On the Other Side of the Mirror Ch. 02/06

All characters are over 18 years old and this story is solely a figment of my imagination.

My language is Spanish, I apologize for any grammatical errors I may make when translating the stories into English).

On the Other Side of the Mirror 2 of 6

I come to yet another orgasm, one more of the countless I've had since Friday afternoon when I was removed from the blowjob dispenser and lowered into the basement of my company.

I don't know what time it is, or what day it is, or how long I've been hanging from the ceiling, and of course I have no idea how many men have fucked my pussy, my ass and my mouth, since Albert and James tied me up in this hidden and unknown to me room of my own premises, but from the puddle of cum formed at my feet, there must have been quite a few.

The man fucking me is the third time he has done so, although this is the first time, he has decided to use my pussy, probably because my asshole is so open and sore that they don't want to risk damaging it any further.

"As soon as you're done fucking her, untie her and take her to the cleaning room, it's coming time for the workers to come in and we have to put all these bitches back where they belong so no one notices what we're doing;" I hear Albert say to whoever is fucking me.

I am very angry and not just because I have been locked up for more than two days in this filthy warehouse being fucked by a dozen of my company's workers, when on Friday after being kidnapped when I was going on vacation, I found out that my vice-president and lover Gemma Prentis and my ex-boyfriend Henry Dinfor were the ringleaders of an illegal slavery plot involving several of my workers, I felt really bad for not having seen it, but when during this weekend of forced sex I discovered that a large part of my trainers were involved in the plot I felt like a complete idiot.

Putting together what I heard in my office while Henry and Gemma were fucking, and what I have been able to gather from the comments of my trainers when I was not too overcome with pleasure, the plot has been going on for about three years and this dirty warehouse is one of the ways in which Gemma and Henry reward the workers, allowing them unlimited use of the slaves in processing and letting them kidnap free women to after using them sell them on the black market or simply leave them abandoned on the street.

The only nice thing about this weekend has been to see me free of the hood with which my face has been hidden from people the first hours of my kidnapping, it was the workers who wore latex hoods hiding his face, apparently Albert and James did not want anyone to ask inopportune questions about a hooded slave and must have thought that no one would recognize in a chained slut and covered with cum to his boss.

As soon as he finishes fucking me the hooded worker unchains me and dragging me by a leash attached to my slave collar takes me to the shower area and with a pressure hose begins to wash any remaining dirt and semen from my body, before the worker finishes washing me Albert appears in the showers.

"I'm done with this slut, go take the rest to their respective places;" he says to the worker who quickly hands him the hose and leaves the showers.

"I hope you had fun slut;" he tells me putting without any regard the jet of water first in my pussy and then in my ass to leave them well clean, "Now comes the turn of all workers who wish to use your mouth, I just hope the bosses let me play again with you."

Albert activates the hot air jet to dry me off and as soon as he deems me dry enough, he puts my hood back on and blocks my mouth with a ring gag. Guided again by a leash hooked again to my nipple rings, Albert takes me back up to the reception area of the building, placing me back on one of the blowjob dispensers.

The clock ticks down to the start of the day just seconds after Albert completely locks me in, and I can't help but freak out as the doors to the building open and the first of the two thousand plus workers begin to enter.

"I'll be here to pick you up in four hours to take you to the marking room;" Albert says walking away from me, as the first of the workers stands in front of me, freeing his cock by shoving it all the way down my throat in a single thrust.

The last time I had a study done on the operation of the blowjob dispensers, it was a year ago, and I was surprised to find that each of the twelve slaves placed in the dispensers, during their four-hour shift serviced an average of twenty-five cocks, which caused me to double the number of stations, although the second part of the study showed that with the increase in dispensers the average did not decrease, but rather the number of users increased.

If on Friday Albert was the first to use me after placing me in the dispenser, today he is the last to do so, and this time instead of cumming on my face, he forces me to swallow his entire load.

When he releases me from the dispenser, I fall exhausted to the floor, and Albert has to call James to help him carry me to the cleaning room.

"We're going to have to give this bitch a rest if we don't want something to happen to her;" Albert says to James.

"Don't worry about that;" James replies, "The bosses are taking her home for a private party and won't bring her back until next Monday, then we can go back to fucking her."

After washing up again I am taken to the branding room, and again I am surprised to find myself in a room that should have been closed and dismantled two years ago, when I forbade the branding of new slaves.

The room is just as I remembered it, with several burning braziers arranged to heat the branding irons, irons that hang on one of the walls and seem to me to be more numerous than the last time I was here.

"What iron do you plan to brand her with?" I hear Henry ask as he enters the room.

"The truth is that I had a hard time deciding;" Gemma replies, "There are some very humiliating brands, and others like Sheikh Osman's or Sir Arthur Conley's that would legally turn her into a slave as soon as she stepped on their property, but in the end, I have decided to use her own brand;" she adds approaching the wall.

"Fuck!" exclaims Henry, "I only know of four slaves that have had that mark put on them, and they all sold for over ten million dollars."

"I know, premium goods. Christine is another one of two women in the world they've offered those amounts for;" Gemma comments.

"You're lucky we're immensely wealthy now;" Henry says to Gemma stroking the base of her back, where the slave brand is placed. "Otherwise, I might be tempted to sell you."

"I'd sooner sell you to a brothel in North Africa;" Gemma replies pushing him away. "But neither of us are going to sell the other, we need each other if we want to have the three hundred million, we've earned over the years."

I have to make an effort not to react to their words and make them realize that I can hear what they are saying, my company's profits last year did not reach that figure and I process thousands of slaves.

"Prepare the temporary tattoo;" Gemma instructs Henry, "I'll get the iron hot and prepare her for the branding."

As soon as I hear Gemma's words, I notice how they begin to undo the hood's clasp, and slowly remove it from my head, although just as my eyes are about to be free, they place an eye mask so that I can't see.

"I've always wanted to know what it feels like to wear one of these hoods;" I hear Gemma say in her voice distorted with some kind of electronic device, causing me to shiver at the prospect of her discovering that I can see and hear everything.

"Put that down and do what you have to do;" Henry yells at her with his voice also distorted.

I feel fingers running down my body, from my neck to the base of my back.

"We're going to brand you as a slave, first with the tattoo and then with a red iron;" Gemma tells me , "And then we're going to sell you to some brothel in Asia, where white sluts spend eighteen hours a day getting fucked. What you've experienced this weekend is going to feel like a vacation compared to what's in store for you."

I struggle with the restraints as I begin to beg to be let go, pretending to be terrified at Gemma's words, what is not pretend is the scream of pain that comes out of my mouth as I feel the tattoo machine resting on my back. The technicians who designed the machine said that the sensation it produced was very similar to the real mark, unfortunately I'm going to check if it's true in a few moments.

I feel the coldness of the spray that is used to fix the tattoo and anesthetize the area and I just hope that idiot Henry has set the tattoo gun right, and the code will be gone in a couple of months.

Before I have fully recovered from the previous pain, I feel the heat approaching my back, and I scream again as the red-hot iron burns my skin, the smell of burning flesh floods my senses, and I feel something hot fall down my legs, then I close my eyes and fall into unconsciousness.

------

When I regain consciousness, I scream again, as if the pain of the mark is still present even though I have probably been passed out for hours. It doesn't take me long to realize that I'm wearing my hood again and that I'm no longer on the premises of my company.

I am hanging from the ceiling again, in a kind of dungeon with stone walls, and I am not alone, in front of me there are three naked women, the first of them must be about forty years old, but she is still a real beauty, round curves, wide waist and big and firm tits, a long blonde hair falls down her back, and in her round and attractive face stand out two big blue-green eyes.

The young woman in the middle is a perfect copy of the first one, but half her age, only her slightly darker hair, slightly smaller tits and very blue eyes differentiate them, as well as less pronounced curves, due to her more youthful body. I quickly deduce that they are Albert's ex-wife and stepdaughter.

The third woman is completely different from the previous two, she is more of a classic beauty, of Mediterranean origin, her hair is black as night and falls down the length of her back, her legs seem endless, ending in a firm and tight ass and narrow hips, her tits seem small, but they look perfect in that slim body, in her youthful face stand out two eyes of such a light gray that they do not look natural. In the case of this young woman, I don't have to deduce anything, I have seen her face on billboards all over the world for the last two years, she is the actress Tara Mitchell, the payment to James for betraying me.

The three women look at each other several times, then focus their gaze on me, surely wondering who I am and why unlike them I am wearing my hooded face.

Time passes slowly without anything happening in the cell, until I feel the cell door open and again, I have to make an effort not to react and continue to pretend that I am still blind and deaf.

"I don't understand why you brought those three here and didn't hand them over to Albert and James;" Henry comments to Gemma.

"Because as soon as I hand them over to them, they will spend all their time fucking them and I need them attentive, now that they know we have their payment in our hands they will work better;" Gemma replies.

"And while they are waiting for their payment, I will prepare everything to get rid of them;" Gemma indicates to Henry's surprise.

"Don't look so surprised Henry;" Gemma tells him, "I've been thinking from the beginning whether I should get rid of them, but as soon as I saw those three beauties it was clear to me. For the mother we can get half a million dollars, a million for the daughter, and now that I've seen the actress up close no less than four million for her, although I'm thinking of keeping her for myself."

Henry's face at Gemma's words almost makes me laugh, it's obvious he has no idea what she's really like, although after what happened these days, I can't say the same either, I'm sure Gemma has already planned how to get rid of him as soon as she doesn't need him.

"It's perfect;" says someone behind my back running their fingers over my mark, "What does it mean?"

"I don't know;" Gemma replies, "Christine calls it the Flower of Aphrodite, I think it's of Greek or Roman origin, but there are hardly any references or data on it."

"Are you sure we can't really enslave her? Now that I see her up close, I'm sure I could turn her into one of my best racing pony girls." Asks the voice behind me.

"She would be perfect for that;" Gemma replies, "Christine ran track and field in high school and college and came very close to going to the Olympics, and I know she runs ten kilometers every day before coming to work. Unfortunately, Carol, you know we have to release her in a few days."

I didn't need to hear the name on Gemma's lips, as soon as I hear her talk about pony girls, I know the person behind me is Lady Caroline Stephenson, wife of the Duke of Essex and one of the richest women in Britain, as well as owner of the company that controls all the slave processing in Europe.

"Then I'll have to settle for these two blonde beauties;" Carol comments approaching the younger one, bringing a hand to her pussy. "The mother can still serve several years as a brood mare, and the daughter is not as elegant as Christine, but with proper training she can be a champion."

"Fucking slut;" Gemma screams as Carol leaves the dungeon, "If her cuckold husband knew half of what he does, she'd be the one tied up in a breeding stall being fucked by her own stallions."

"Take those three up to the party and see that no one touches them;" Gemma orders Henry, "I'll take Rose upstairs along with the rest of the slaves to be used tonight."

To be continued...