Our Only Hope Ch. 03

"She is such a fragile thing," he said sarcastically, "that I will be merciful and only give her ten swats." He then began spanking. Each swat was paced so that the slave stopped thrashing and screaming just before the next one landed. She was obviously unconscious before the tenth swat.

Master rod looked down at her in disgust and said curtly, "Put her in the display."

As the two eunuchs were releasing the unconscious slave, the back curtain was slowly raised revealing four women and two men bound spread-eagled on wheel-like frames attached to the back wall. Unlike the rest of the walls of the club, the back wall was painted a flat white. An additional four wheels stood empty, two on each side of the captives. Beyond that were two more sets of restraints that were attached directly to the wall.

I looked quickly along the base of the wall. On the right side, all the way to the end, just to the right of the last restraint was a strangely-shaped electrical socket like the one Boris had noted in the picture of Mistress Aleana. This was where that image had been taken.

Was one of the bound figures her?.. was one perhaps Master Robert? All six were naked. Both men and one of the women were masked with Lucha Libra masks. The masks had an image similar to the devilish one on Master Rod, but the mouths were formed in an exaggerated frown, almost like one would find on a Greek theater mask. I was betting that I would recognize those faces if they were not masked, but the body of the masked woman did not look like Mistress Aleana. One of the women was bound facing the wall, but she was much too small to be the Mistress. Another was turned so that she was hanging sideways. Her face was unfamiliar. Except for her, the rest of the figures bound to the wheels were upright with their toes barely touching the floor, keeping them from turning.

The two large eunuchs had no trouble carrying the diminutive slave to the wall and strapping her in place on one of the empty wheels. I don't know if it was easier to do it that way or just their warped sense of humor, but the eunuchs strapped the slave's feet to the wheel and then turned it so that she hung upside down before restraining her hands and then turning her back right side up.

I felt Natasha tense up next to me and heard a soft, hissing intake of breath. "That's poopsie," she said softly. I could hear the hurt and anger in her voice.

"Not now. Not yet." I tried to say firmly. I had very little confidence in my ability to keep her from acting, but a loud voice called out in my- and her- earpiece saying, "Control yourself, Pusik, we will rescue poopsie, but we have to stick to the plan. You can do it, my little kitten, but we have to follow the plan."

Boris' words had an amazing calming effect on Natasha. At least they enabled her to get her emotions under control. She was now staring at Master Rodriguez with an intensity of hatred that I have rarely seen. I was now afraid that The Stiff One- even if he did not know it- was a dead man walking. And I was even more afraid that Natasha would act before Boris was ready.

Master Rod again stepped to the front of the stage. "That was intense, wasn't it?" he said with a laugh." After the audience laughter died down, he continued, "We start every special show with that just to keep all the slaves on their toes. But would you believe..." He now stood with his fists balled up on his hips. "... that this spanking bench holds no threat to some slaves? In fact there is one slave among us tonight who has begged her Master to let her experience the full treatment of this delightful piece of equipment." He paused and then said loudly, "Isn't that true, slave monica?"

The spotlight turned to one of the tables near the wall. A rather dark, almost swarthy, man was sitting with an olive-skinned young woman standing next to him. She was wearing an off-white dress that draped loosely around her neck but clung tightly to her more than ample rear end. With any movement, her breasts were totally visible from the sides and even from the front. A wide, shiny chrome collar around her neck proclaimed her to be a slave.

Her Master nodded his head and pointed to the stage and the young woman rushed forward like a kid chasing after an ice cream truck. She stopped when she got to the front and stood more or less at attention in front of Master Rod.

"I don't often give people a choice in this," he said, looking down at her, "but if you really want to experience the full treatment from me in this spanking bench, strip down and come up on stage."

The woman hesitated a moment, looking back and forth between Master Rod and the padded bar, but then she made her final decision. Reaching behind her back she loosened a zipper at the waist of the dress. Once that was done, there was really nothing holding the dress in place. She pulled her arms clear of the top of the dress and it slid from her body.

Master Rod laughed slightly and pointed down at her. "Turn around and let everyone see how excited you are," he ordered firmly.

The naked painslut turned around and stood with her feet widespread. Thick fluid was dripping from her slightly gaped cunt. As if she couldn't help herself, she reached up and twisted her hard and engorged nipples, gasping slightly at her own touch.

"Get across the spanking bar," he said sharply. She stepped up on stage and knelt on the spanking device. She watched trembling as the eunuchs strapped her legs in place on the low pad, and without prodding, she extended her arms for them to stretch with the straps. Because she was not wearing wristcuffs like the waitress had been, the eunuchs had to first wrap leather restraints around her wrists. She moaned when the eunuchs pulled her arms tight in front of her and moaned again when the electrodes were attached to her nipples. She moaned once more when the cunt-anal hook was slipped into her and pulled tightly forward so that it could be attached to the floor. The large bulb on the cunt hook slipped easily into her slippery slit. The slightly smaller bulb on the anal portion of the hook seemed to not want to enter at first, but it popped into place when one of the eunuchs spread her plump asscheeks to let it settle directly against her waiting rosebud.

One of the eunuchs knelt next to the apparatus and used the rachet-like device to pull the hook tight in the slave's cunt and ass. As he stood back up to leave, he reached down and patted her ass, causing a long, drawn out moan. Both eunuchs were laughing as they left the stage.

Master Rod was also laughing as he stood next to the slave. "It is obvious," he said still laughing, "that slave monica likes to be stretched out tight." Swinging the paddle through the air, he added, "But let's see if she really likes pain."

He then stepped back slightly and swung the paddle into slave monica's ass. The blow was relatively light, but it was almost immediately followed by a smack that was louder than any of the swats he had administered to the unfortunate waitress.

The slave thrashed in her bonds and her moan became higher-pitched, but she did not scream. Master Rodriguez began steadily pounding her ass, moving each blow slightly so that both asscheeks, from below where they met her legs to where they merged into her back, were soon bright red and starting to turn purple.

Someone was counting the strokes because I was hearing the translation in my earpiece, but it was not Master Rod. He was silently swinging the huge leather paddle repeatedly into the slave's ass. Even with his face masked, you could sense a visible determination to break this slave by exceeding her pain threshold. Then I heard a voice laughing. It was the masked woman bound against the wall. I had heard that laugh before. It was slave ines. That meant that, hopefully, one of the masked men was Master Randolph.

The laughter caused Master Rod to almost lose control. He began slashing wildly, delivering swat after swat to the slave's bruised- and now bleeding- ass. Her moan became higher and higher and was almost musical. Then she screamed... a long, loud, and extremely shrill scream that was obviously a scream of passion not pain- or maybe passion and pain- or maybe pain that only a true painslut could feel as passion. She then fell limp, or as limp as the tight restraints would allow her body to be.

Master Rodriguez stood alongside her panting from his exertion. He signaled the eunuchs and they came hurrying out onto the stage to begin releasing her. Her Master had rushed up onto the stage to check on her, so they let him release her wrists and undo the nipple electrodes.

"I could never have driven her that high," he said. "I won't risk damaging her... but she needs so much... she needs so much..."

Master Rod responded, "I could wake her up and see what her true limits are..." He shrugged, "Of course, she might die first. Some of them are like that. They want it more and more and more and more until it kills them."

The slave was more or less responsive and was able to stand with help from her Master and the eunuchs. As they walked into the darkness, Master Rod swung the paddle and threw it aside. There was an obvious bulge in the front of his leather pants. Beating the painslut had clearly turned him on very greatly.

He patted his groin, acknowledging what everyone already knew. Then he laughed deeply and said, "Lucky for me, this bench can be used for more than spanking. A slave- or a Mistress- or even a Master- can be strapped into this and I can do whatever I want to them. All we have to do is leave off the hook."

He shouted something that the earpiece did not translate and the two eunuchs ran back onto the stage. "Get the little one," he said sharply, pointing back at one of the women bound against the wall.

The eunuchs walked over to the woman who was bound facing the wall and turned the wheel until she was upside down hanging from her ankles. Both smiled as the young woman screamed in fright. They released her wrists and then, with one of them holding on to her, turned the wheel so that her feet were once again close to the floor. It was a rather effective technique to keep someone under control while you released them.

The woman was young, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties. She was olive-skinned and extremely petite. Her breasts were well-formed, but small. She had short, dark brown, almost black hair that surrounded an oval-shaped face, and surprisingly, she had a thick patch of hair in her crotch and also in her armpits. I immediately thought, "That's a slave that would really appeal to a European Mistress." That's when the alarm bells started going off in my head. I was sitting next to a European Mistress. That was poopsie!

"Boris," I said softly, "if you can hear me, the shit is about to hit the fan."

I looked over at Natasha. Her arms were rigid and her hands had a death grip on the edge of the table. The muscles of her shoulder and neck were standing out as if she were lifting a great weight. I looked at the bodyguard next to her and he was slowly sliding his hand under his coat.

"Now, Boris, now," I said a little louder than I intended.

"We will once again combine pleasure and pain," Master Rod said loudly as the slave was brought forward. "Only it will be my pleasure and this worthless slave's pain."

Suddenly Natasha was standing and all of the drinks on our table had crashed to the floor. "NO!" she screamed in English as she flipped the table the rest of the way over. "You will not hurt her. She is mine."

I didn't see Natasha pull the knife from her clothing. I didn't see her throw it. I wasn't even sure what I was seeing fly through the air until it hit Master Rodriguez squarely in the center of his chest... handle end first.

My loud, "Shit!" was drowned out by his laughter as the knife bounced off the front of his shirt and clattered to the floor. "You must be Natasha," he said jubilantly. Then pointing to me he added, "And you must be Boris."

I wasn't about to contradict him at this point. He continued in English. His voice was tinged with sarcastic laughter as he said, "Even if your inept attempt at throwing a knife had succeeded, I'm wearing a multi-layer bulletproof vest. No bullet... or blade... could ever penetrate this vest." He slapped his fist against his chest.

Natasha smiled at him and said calmly, "No, but a special microneedle driven by a charge in the handle of a knife could. And it could inject a poison into your chest."

Master Rod didn't answer her. Instead the hand against his chest began to quiver and he seemed to stagger slightly. "Or in this case, a paralytic," she said with a smile as he dropped to the floor.

Suddenly it sounded like every cellphone in the place- including mine- sounded an alarm. A voice much stronger than the normal translation almost yelled in my ear, "Master Rodriguez has poked a very angry Jaguar with a very short stick. Leave now and you will not be hurt. Your families will be safe. Check your cellphone. We know who is precious to you. If you stay you will die and your families will never be seen again."

I looked quickly at my phone to see an image of Paula, a young woman with whom I had an intense relationship a half-dozen years ago. I thought I had put that behind me, but evidently Boris' AI algorithms had scanned my phone and selected her as someone very close to me. Maybe she was. She was gone, but my love for her had not faded. There was no doubt in my mind that everyone in the room was now staring at the picture of someone they loved dearly.

The room was extremely quiet. Then Natasha pulled at her dress, tearing it off as she jumped up onto the stage next to the collapsed body of Master Rodriguez. With the bottom of the dress gone, she was wearing what looked like a one piece leather swimsuit and knee high, shiny black leather boots. A knife was strapped prominently to the outside of each of the boots at the top. An empty sheath was strapped near the ankle of the left boot. From the look on her face and the pistol she held in each hand there was no doubt that she was a very powerful- and very pissed off- Mistress.

She already had everyone's attention before she held both pistols out wide, slightly above her head and fired them into the ceiling, shouting, "Eu sou o jaguar!" very loudly and very angrily.

The earpiece translated that for me as "I am the jaguar."

The loud voice then repeated the warning, "Leave now and you will not be hurt. Your families will be safe. If you stay you will die and your families will never be seen again."

Everyone in the club- including Master Rodriguez's security staff- began moving toward the doors except for one group of eight men in dark clothing at a back table who moved toward us and fanned out as if to surround us. I had my Glock firmly in my hand, but still under my coat. I was almost ready to start shooting when, to my surprise, seven of them stopped a couple yards in front of the stage and formed a half circle around us. They turned to face outward as the eighth one continued up to me. "I don't know who you are," he said brusquely, "and you don't want to know who I am, but someone called in a favor and told us to protect his daughter, so we are here to make sure that you get out of here safely."

"With him and everyone we came to rescue?" I replied pointing at Master Rodriguez and the captives against the back wall.

"If that's what the lady wants," he answered, "that's what the lady gets." He then helped release everyone- except for the unconscious waitress- from the wheels and escorted us all outside. I got elected to carry the unconscious Master Rod. We were joined at the door by another eight men who were more heavily armed.

"All quiet," one of them said. "She must have scared the shit out of them."

"She had my attention," the one in charge replied.

"It's going to be a little crowded in the van," Natasha said urgently, "but we need to leave NOW!"

With the help of the unknown protection detail, we were able to load everyone into the van. I, and the four bodyguards, ended up standing against the outside walls. The others sat in the seats or on the floor. Master Rod was laid out against the back of the electronics console. Natasha had used some long zip ties to secure his arms and legs. I think one of the bodyguards had also injected him with something, so I was pretty sure he wasn't going anywhere.

Two large SUVs roared up to join us. One pulled in front of the van, the other behind and the men scrambled in. The leader of our unexpected escorts, as he jumped into the lead SUV, yelled out, "Let's roll!"

One of the bodyguards slid the door closed and those of us who were standing strained to remain upright as we quickly accelerated out of the parking area. Natasha was now sitting cross-legged on the floor and cradling poopsie in her arms. Poopsie kept whimpering and trying to burrow deeper into her Mistress' lap. Natasha, in response, kept saying, "I have you, poopsie. You are safe now. You are safe now, my pet."

Once poopsie had calmed down, Natasha looked up at me and said, "They are taking us to a safehouse." She paused to stroke poopsie's head. "It is one that has been compromised for a long time," she continued, "so it makes no difference if the Americans follow us."

"How did you arrange that?!" I almost sputtered.

She smiled at me and said, "My father does many favors for people and people do favors for him." She cuddled poopsie closer and then said, "And what father would not protect his daughter?"

One of the bodyguards gave me an almost smile and said in heavily Russian-accented English, "She's always been that way. I'm glad I only have sons."

Boris stuck his head around the electronics counsel and said, "We should be there in about fifteen minutes. I've arranged for food and clothing for anyone who needs it."

He then squeezed himself around the end of the console and stood next to me.

"Have I ever sent you any of my 'I am the Jaguar' memes?" he asked with a smile. "They are very popular here in Brazil. Something to do with local legends."

"I take it the Jaguar is a legendary really badass female," I answered.

"It is now," he said looking down at Natasha and poopsie. "It definitely is now."

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END OF STORY

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