Fresh Meat

An innocent appearance that fuels the sordid abuse now being imparted by the three males who claim her with a brutal abandon.

It's only an illusion I consider as I watch the desolation of Logan Hughes latest female companion. A desolation earned once more via the surreptitious nature of the blue pill that has been fed to her.

As she stands there tethered, fearfully shaking under the harsh attention she receives I cannot help but consider how aware of her circumstances the young redhead might be. Her demeanour now in such stark contrast to her behaviour during the protracted fuck she had taken across the bed in my Suite, she seems acutely aware of every torturous act her body absorbs.

I watch as the cane is raised high above the head of the middle of the three genuinely unknown members once more, only to then lash down with such ferocity as Hetty immediately screams out to further underline her consciousness of the depraved circumstances.

The feast of her young body I suspect has barely begun.

Her body rises and falls on sobs as she hangs there unable to gain any escape.

As the cane drops to the floor, with a fresh echo throughout the room I watch as the male in the centre of the three steps up close behind her.

"No... No... Please don't.... Please no..." I hear her frantic pleas that are distorted by the metal mask clamped over her features.

I watch as he presses up against her his hand snapping her obscured head back against her shoulders with his left hand as he guides himself into her body with his right hand.

The three of them have discovered her already, taken it in turns to take advantage of the unfettered access offered to her perfect young firm tattooed body beneath the sheer red gown. The three of them suitably rewarded for their arrival at Watehouse 43 in the small hours of the morning.

As her arms are pulled taught the sound of her frantically trembling and shaking legs rattling the chains of their restraint echoes throughout the chamber.

"N.... N... Na... No...No No No" I hear Hetty plead on heighten breath.

Pleaded words that give way to a cry of anguish so guttural and raw as I watch the hips of the male pressed to her bound body push forward as she is penetrated once again.

The cry lingers in the room as I turn and walk away, assured in my own mind that the latest act upon Hetty's body has resulted in her asshole being harshly impaled.

"When they've grown tired of her bring her back to my Suite," I state without looking towards either of the bare chested cowled males who flank the only double doors that enter or exit the chamber.

A simple nod garnered from both in understanding of my simple instruction.

Stepping through the double doors that open automatically before me I walk into corridor, leaving the anguished sounds of Hetty's conquest behind me as the doors close shut.

**********

I withdraw my aching dick from the tight confines of her anus.

Hetty lays broken beneath me, with only the black thigh high leather boots adorning her body as she lays face down across the bed.

Raising myself I sit across the edge of the four poster bed, looking back over my shoulder to her long slender arms stretched out to meet thick black chains that shackle her wrists tightly.

Sitting there naked as I feel a slight trickle of residual cum dribble against my thigh from my rescinding erection.

"Rest up Hetty... you've earned it.... We will let you go in the morning..."

Hetty barely flinches as I stand from the bed looking to the two halves of the mask that now sit on the bedside table. The last fuck I had given her brutally from behind, commencing in her well used cunt begore I had climaxed deep in her tight little asshole. Her wrists had been shackled but I had removed the mask to offer marginal reprieve during my deliberately prolonged abuse of her slender pale body.

With her hair matted to her scalp, soaked in sweat from the experience she had endured while locked into the cruel restricted confines of the mask. I had sensed that the side effects from of the blue pill administered several hours earlier had subsided as she winced and gasped through her last enforced submission of a long night that only now as dawn broke outside the building drew to an end, a temporary reprieve.

"Where... where am I?" Hetty meekly enquires.

"Warehouse 43" I state with a pride and purpose, "Thanks to Logan Hughes you just made an impressive debut at our establishment."

My words are only met with a contemplative silence.

"So much so that when he inevitably discards you.... Which I've no doubt he will... You'll be more than welcome back here." I add.

"Lo... Logan Hughes" Hetty offers, and I note the genuine confusion in her voice as she wearily lifts her head from the surface of the bed, "...I don't know... I don't know a..."

"You probably don't," I offer without providing her any further clarity on the matter.

As I let my gaze fall across her back I note the heavy welts that criss-cross her back as I ponder just how deep Logan Hughes selfish subterfuge runs. Young Hetty would have no knowledge of his former moniker, the man who now supposedly lay six feet under the ground in a Cemetery grave on the far side of the City. Hetty quite possibly would only know the man she had been with at the start of her evening as Andrew Baxter, or more likely than not some other pseudonym he had offered her with his callous deception.

The lack of knowledge on how well she knew the insidious individual mattered little. Seeing the two of them together had confirmed just how much they meant to one another. I could not second guess but I assumed he meant more to her than she actually meant to him.

Fixating on Logan Hughes I can't help but wonder where the vile individual spent the remainder of his evening, and who was unfortunate enough to be keeping his company.

My hatred running deep, I held no conclusive proof but I knew he would be intrinsically linked to Laura Mancini's disappearance.

Taking Hetty had been but a step towards a retribution that I intend to be as swift as it will be brutal. Her performance whilst memorable faded in comparison to my greatest conquest in retribution for his vile persona. My mind casting back to Hannah Walker begging for mercy as she'd been locked first into the Pillory and then the St. Andrews Cross which sit just the other side of the double doors that annex this bedroom to my personal Chamber,

As I watch her, Hetty falls still her heavy breath steadying now as under the influence of nothing other than sheer exhaustion she passes out while shackled face down to the bed she is stretched across.

Considering her performance to myself and her tribute in the hands of 'The Collective' I can't help but wonder how young Hetty's body would feel and how she would react locked into the restraint of the same Pillory that I had held Hannah in. My mind then drifting towards considering if Logan Hughes already knows the answer to the question of such carnal intrigue.

In the fullness of time perhaps young Hetty will answer such questions with further surrender. I think of my recently acquired Pet who resides behind the hidden doorway to my left. Fully aware of the identical doorway leading to a hidden cell that sits to the left-hand side of the four-poster bed. Physical stature alone would make for her a worthy capture, combined with the energetic performance her body had provided I had no doubts to her capacity to perform as a Pet. Although I sense her mind might not be as easily broken as Rose Redmond's had been.

For now I will let the Hetty return to him as I park thoughts of enslaving Logan Hughes delightful little querida. I had seen that look between them the manner in which they both acted in one another's company, I knew I was not mistaken about their mutual infatuation.

To permit her return to him will only increase her feelings for him and I would hope equally his feelings towards her, in the fullness of time. I would monitor her as closely as I did him by benefit of the network of street level spies Marlon Pickford's gang offered.

Reconsidering the words I had offered her barely minutes earlier I will not let him discard her, even if he is so inclined. I will take her from him before such a time occurs. I will take her from him in the cruellest of fashion in retribution for the disappearance of Laura Mancini.

I will break Logan Hughes.

I will destroy Logan Hughes.

"He's dangerous company to keep is Mister Hughes...."

I offer ambiguously to Hetty with no irony in respect to my own dark thoughts for the girl who exhaustedly sleeps stretched out across the bed behind me. Despite her slumber I continue to offer my best advice.

"...I'd suggest be careful not to get your fingers burnt... but tonight The Collective may well have already held a blow torch to them... my little work of art"

**********

Shivering as she pulled the scrap of a dress around her broken body Hetti Harper rested her head to the window of the Range Rover as it crept through hectic Saturday lunch time inner City traffic.

In truth she concentrated on very little she observed through the single pane of glass.

Reaching into her little black handbag she found the bright pink device and powered up her mobile by depressing the button to the side of the slim gadget, grateful for the charge cable that the driver of the Range Rover had provided for her.

Her body physically ached, every little movement seemed to cut like knife. She had never known such brutal discomfort as she felt wrack her body in this moment.

Her mind a blur, dwelling on what had happened to her across the night, a night which she had very few memories of until the very early hours of the morning when she had awoken scared and shackled face down across the four-poster bed.

Uncertain on so many things but equally certain of fates that had befallen her.

Acts that constituted a betrayal of her burgeoning relationship, if she could call it that.

Lingering on the words the tanned skinned forty something had stated as she had been guided through a labyrinth like Warehouse barely twenty minutes previous; "Tell Mister Hughes that Hector Salazar sends his regards."

Hetti had no idea who the referenced Mr Hughes was, something in her mind echoed on a distant conversation from the clouded memories of the night she had lost, but she could not correlate or understand the meaning of his statement.

An amnesia that gripped her with fear as her bottom lip began to tremble, before she immediately found her resolve, refusing for one moment to let whatever had happened break her. Burying the crushing fear of what had happened to trigger her mind to shut down on actions that had inflicted such physical pain.

She had no idea how she had come to be in his company, where her friends had gone to.

Her mind lurching once more had she been targeted? Her body shivered at the prospect that her family name might have been the reason for all of this. Confusion racked her broken mind. Her father was an unpopular individual.

Her recall then suddenly remembering the duty she had to her family for the day that lay ahead. She would be late, but she knew she would not be able to escape the trappings of the demure and conservative persona she would be expected to diligently observe. Such territory that came with Daddy being the local member of parliament.

Grimacing holding back tears that formed once more, her mind once lurched back without recognisable trigger to her unconscious betrayal of the man she had grown increasingly fond of, Andrew Baxter. The man she saw as a path away from her mundane diligent existence.

He excited her, just thinking about the increasing dominance he held over her. A dominance that enticed her. His presence, his touch. The exhilarating control he regularly exerted over her in the height of heightened sexual activity that never failed to goad a climax from her regularly sated body. He could not discover her infidelity. She was less scared of the consequence of her unknown night than she was Andrew Baxter learning oh her obvious promiscuity in his absence.

Her phone vibrated in her clenched palm, startling her as the device slipped back to life. A slew of unanswered messages immediately causing further vibration as they silently flashed up on her Home Screen.

Hetti scrolled through the on screen notifications, seeing only the partial messages received from her friends, her sister and her Mother.

Tapping away a response to a message enquiring as to her whereabouts from her mother that had been sent only seven minutes previous. Assuring her Mother that she was on her way home ahead of the busy schedule that would offer her broken body no chance of the recovery she desperately needed.

Looking to her heavily bruised wrists Hetti tapped out a second message to request her navy cardigan be laid out with the navy short sleeved dress she had intended to wear. Such sterile clothing normally worn to hide the plethora of tattoos that conveniently sit, hidden unawares from her family, beneath conservative hems and necklines.

"Can... can you pull over here?" Hetti meekly enquired towards the Driver as a row of shops appeared ahead of them on the street they traversed. "I won't be long I just need...."

A little over five minutes later Hetti Harper glanced briefly towards the emergency contraceptive sat in the little paper cup being handed to her.

"Can you confirm your name for me please?" the female Pharmacist requested

"Yeah its Hetti... Hetti Harper," Hetti responded, "Hetti with and 'I' but everyone always spells it wrong."

As Hetti took hold of the paper cup and tipped the tablet into her hand a memory triggered of an unknown orange speckled tablet that Andrew Baxter had given her the night before. She contemplated only briefly the tablet now in hand before placing the chalky white pill upon her tongue and swallowing hard.

"Are... Are you sure that you are alright Miss Harper?" The kindly faced Indian woman enquired, while casting her eye over Hetti's hideously dishevelled appearance.

"I'll be fine," Hetti offered believing the resolve which slowly built within her.

The Pharmacist offered the kind of weak smile that suggested she wasn't reassured.

Hetti though believed, as though the new tablet that started to slowly dissolve in her body invigorated that resolve.

"I'm fine..." she reaffirmed confidently "...just avoiding the consequence of a very blurry night."

Hetti steps away, headed towards the door to the small Pharmacy and the Range Rover that patiently waits for her outside.

"Actually..." she offers, turning back towards the Pharmacist in the heels of the recently acquired thigh high black leather boots that adorn her legs, "...Painkillers... I need painkillers...the strongest you have."

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Hetti's wider Story Arc can be discovered in The Dark Star Descent listed within the Author's stories.