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This is a Vintage Erotic, Adult Novel... Full of sexual adventures... Involving a sexy and Seductive girl... Full of Sex, Surprises and Unusual Naughty Twists.
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Crawl For The Master
CHAPTER ONEThe man at the wheel of the armored car saw her walk out of the lobby of the modelling agency at precisely one o'clock. The short, revealing dress she was wearing rode half-way up her sleek, slender thighs. It was held to her narrow waist by a thick strap of black, glossy plastic. A sheer, pale blue blouse emerged from the top of the belt. Only the bottom three buttons were done, and the braless softness of her bosom rolled temptingly behind the thin material, puncturing the fragile surface with the delicate points of her perfectly round nipples. Through the deep blue lenses of her swept back glasses, her eyes peered nervously at the watch strapped to her limply held wrist. The high spikes of her heels were beating an agitated staccato rhythm on the concrete sidewalk. She was waiting for someone. Someone was late. She was obviously wondering why.The man gunned the engine and moved the armored car along the street leading up to the agency door. He kept his eyes on her in the rear view mirror as he parked a few feet in front of her. He knocked his knuckles lightly on the back wall of the cab, and heard the return knock that meant the others were ready. His eyes watched them step out of the rear door of the car and walk over to her. The rear view mirror showed him that she was confused by their presence, and didn't know why they were there. One of the men put his hand over her mouth while the other grabbed her around the waist. They hoisted her roughly into the back of the van. He heard the door slam shut. She screamed, and he gunned the engine again to muffle the sounds. He went through a red light and made his way quickly out of the city.The man drove the armored car for hours. He passed through the suburbs at the outskirts of the city. He drove on and on, watching the density of housing diminish, while the density of the trees and high rocks increased. Soon, there were no more houses. Only trees and rocks, and an occasional brook, could be seen.An hour past the last houses, a narrow gravel road could be seen leading up to the highway. The man turned the car into the road and began to bounce in the seat from the impact of the ruts and stones that interfered there with the smooth spinning of the wheels. When he was two or three miles down the road, he saw a large electric gate jump out from the overhang of trees and block the path of his vehicle. He stopped the motor and pressed down heavily on the breaks. He stepped out of the cab and walked over to a small metal box that sat atop a four foot cable of coiled steel that was braced to the trunk of a tall oak. He opened the front of the box with a silver key and pulled out a red telephone receiver. He pushed a few numbers on the inner surface of the receiver and spoke a few brusque words. He replaced the receiver in the box and relocked it. He returned to the cab of the car and turned the ignition key. He waited.There was a whirring sound emanating from the gate. The gate swung open and he drove through. He saw the gate shut behind him in the rear view mirror and kept driving.There was a large Tudor mansion emerging into view as the armored car followed a sharp bend in the road. The mansion was surrounded by a cluster of small shacks. All of the windows of the house were shuttered. There was an oval driveway with a mammoth oak tree in its center. The man drove the armored car around the oval, parking in front of the heavily bolted door that marked the front entrance to the mansion. He pulled the emergency brake and extricated himself from the cab. His boots bit into the black gravel that filled the oval as he made his way to the back door of the van. He opened up the door and stood aside to allow the men inside to emerge with their cargo.She was gagged and blindfolded, and all of her clothing had been removed. She could not walk in the heavy leg irons, and had to be carried. The men could not carry her by draping her arms over their shoulders, as her wrists were tightly bound together in barbed iron cuffs. They draped her across their extended arms and brought her to the door.Her hair dragged across the steps as the men carried her slowly to the man in the long black flowing cape who had unbolted the door and come down to them. He raised a gloved hand into the air. Leather-wrapped fingers swooped down on her upraised breasts and pecked at her nipples. More dark fingers dug into the tufts of blonde curls that cloaked the space between her thighs. A grim smile darted across the opening in the base of his mask and disappeared. He walked to the van while the others froze in place by the door. He extracted the blouse, the skirt, the silky undergarments and hose, and sprinkled them across the lawn. Two huge mastiffs ran out of the door past the immobile men and the captive woman. They pounced on the garments on the lawn, shredding them between their fangs. They came over to the man by the back of the van. He pointed his hand to the door and they returned inside.The man in the leather mask put his hands behind his back beneath his cape and walked slowly after his dogs. When he had entered the foyer of the mansion, the still forms by the door came to life and marched behind him to a book case in a high-ceilinged den. He removed a heavy tome from the shelf and pulled at a lever that lay hidden behind it. The shelf began to swing around an invisible vertical pole until it had half disappeared into the wall. A stone stairway could be seen leading up to the opening made by the book case. The masked man walked down the stairs, followed by the others.They came to a low and narrow tunnel, lit by torches that jutted from the earthen walls. The leader came to the end of the tunnel. There was a thick metal door. It had a screen three quarters of the way up from the floor. Four vertical bars of steel could be seen behind the screen. There was a great iron latch half way down from the screen, and a key hole.The leader reached inside his cape and removed a long key which he placed in the hole in the door and turned. He squeezed the latch with both hands and the door creaked open. He stepped inside, followed by the others. The man carrying the manacled legs closed the door behind him.There were steps leading down from the door. They opened on to a vast natural cavern. Its floor was pock-marked by small, fetid pools, and the men weaved their way through them and the stalagmites that sprouted at irregular intervals from the stretch of cold, dank limestone between them.' A faint light glowed from a crevice in the far wall of the cavern. They headed toward it, then into it. They were in another chamber. Its inner trappings gave evidence that it had been visited by similar parties many times before.The chamber was as high as the one they had left behind, but it was narrower, and not as deep. There were numerous chains dangling from the ceiling, and numerous pieces of machinery along the floor and attached to the walls. One of these was a high, flat rack of wood, with metal braces and straps. The leader waved his hand above it, and the others deposited their burden upon it. The leader removed the irons from the legs and wrists of the captive, intending the braces and straps to take their place. He removed the blindfold and gag, giving her liberty to note her surroundings, and to speak if that pleased her.The man in the mask snapped his fingers, and the others turned and departed. They threaded their way through the pools in the outer cavern, crouched up the narrow tunnel to the library above, passed out the front door to rejoin the driver of the armored car, resumed their places in the van, were locked in by the driver, who went into the cab and started the motor. The departure of the car could not be heard in the cave far below where the man and his new slave were at. The man poked her breasts with the handle of a riding crop and admired their full perfection with his eyes. He flipped the crop and lightly grazed the mounds and tufts of her crotch with the lash at the other end of the handle, making the hips above twitch slightly. Then he moved the lash in and out of the spaces between her toes, and across her soft soles. Her contours gave him pleasure, and he bared his teeth."How do you like your new home?" he inquired.The woman was afraid to speak. He repeated his question. She remained silent. He dragged the lash across her stomach, then raised it into the air and held it above her. He repeated his question again."You must speak now, while I am in the mood to allow you that liberty. How do you like your new home? I hope it pleases you, as you will be residing in it for some time to come."A shrill scream pierced the silence of the cave, echoing for many seconds from the walls. The man laughed darkly at her answer and retrieved the gag. He forced her to take the wad of cloth into her mouth, then tied a knot tightly at the back of her neck. He started to walk away from her. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, moving them in slow, attentive circles about the room.He saw the men perched in the high hollows of the upper stretches of the walls. He raised his hands above his head, then dropped them to his sides. The men took the headphones from their ears, and placed caps over the lenses of their cameras."You have gotten all of it so far?"The men nodded their heads in silence. The masked figure staring up at them placed his hands together behind his cape and nodded his approval. He was pleased with the initial sequence, and began to plot out later scenes in his mind. He paced for a time, then decided to leave and contemplate alone in his study.He really wanted her to have time to grow more fearful. Her first screams were appropriate testimonies to her initial terror, but they would have to be refined. He wished for her to develop a wide spectrum of fearful emotions. The subtlety of her anguish must be tutored, it must grow to match the subtle methods he had carefully developed over the years for torture, humiliation, and gradual enslavement of his victims. She had the matchless beauty that he needed for his present work. She would serve him well, and he looked forward to a rewarding partnership with this future slave.He returned to the library and replaced the book case to its normal position within the wall. He entrenched himself in the heavily padded Morris chair behind his writing table and took a folder from the top drawer. As he thumbed through the clippings and sheets inside the folder, he would occasionally find one that he wished to peruse, and place it on the polished ebony surface of the table.The clippings were advertisements he had placed or answered in various of the sado-masochistic magazines to which he subscribed. To each clipping he had stapled a page of notes and whatever letters of inquiry or response the ad had elicited. The one marked P. O. Box 373, Grand Central Station now held his attention. It was one of the first responses he'd gotten to the chain letter he'd circulated among the frequent advertisers in the magazines. The respondent was currently strapped into a body-length plastic sheet and dangling by her hair from a chain attached to the ceiling attached to one of the sheds outside the mansion. According to the proposition he'd announced in the chain letter that she'd answered, she needed to supply five unsuspecting victims for him to train before she could be released from her bondage and allowed to become the master of the next link in the chain of responses. Being one of the first to respond, she needed to be his slave for only a few weeks before there were sufficient further answers to his circular, and sufficient victims supplied by her own efforts prior to her arrival at his fortress, for her to expect freedom and mastership to be awarded her. In fact, her first four victims had already converted, and started to supply further links in the chain for his pleasure and - as they hoped - eventually their own. The fifth and final victim was now strapped to the bed of planks in the cavern below. Once she had been tamed, the woman in the shed outside would have fulfilled her contract. Then the woman in the caves would become her slave. Pedro Peligrosa chuckled to himself as he reflected on the success of his circular. The woman in the shed was the last of the first set of five. Once she won her liberty, there would be five times five forced to seek the same hard-won freedom. Then there would be five times five times five: a number that would require the many sheds he had erected on his large, secluded estate. Those who responded late to his letter, those who were many links removed from the start of the chain, would be forced to suffer not weeks, but months and even years of his discipline before they could hope to meet the obligations of their contracts with him.Signor Peligrosa had made his large, illicit fortune some decades ago by the device of such letters. Then, his letters were concerned with more mundane sorts of appropriation: send five dollars to each of the five names above your own in the chain letter, enter your own name beneath the last of those, -and send out five copies of the letter with your name affixed to its bottom line. You will then take five dollars from each of the next links in the chain. A very simple and attractive sounding proposition! Being always the first name, the first link in the chains his letters began, he was able to amass a rapid fortune. Those who answered at further removes from the source sent out much money, and received little, if any, in return - and what they received took a long stretch of time to come back to them.That, of course, was why chain letters were illegal now. Their logic had not the least taint of the Christian mercy that Signor Pedro Peligrosa so despised. The heavenly riches that one reaped were not equally doled out to the early and late arrivals to the faith in the chain letters that he sent out to those heathen he had made his fortune manipulating and deceiving. The first links grew fat at the expense of the later links' sustenance.But Peligrosa no longer needed to concern himself with the accumulation of such crude prizes as dollars and cents. Thanks to the illegal device of the chain letters he had concocted in his early years, he no longer needed to give the slightest thought to money: the tainted millions he had made by his simple gimmick were now safely invested in the most solid and lucrative securities; their initial value, large in its own right, was now multiplied many times over. He need never worry about money, even if he lived to be a thousand, even if he spent those thousand years living in the luxurious style he had been accustomed to for the past twenty years.But Peligrosa had a fondness for the chain letters that had done him such splendid service in the past. The illegal device of the chain letter he now used for an even more disreputable purpose: no longer in need of dollars, he now used them to procure more animate, priceless treasures. He used them to procure slaves - and slaves in great number!Peligrosa was not one to give compliments lightly, but he was willing to give credit where credit was due. And he was more than willing to give the credit for his recent and highly successful venture to his late wife, the Signora Yma Peligrosa. He would always remember with great fondness the night that she had died of pleasure in his arms. As he unravelled her from the stud-riddled chains that had held her above the sharp metal spikes that had worked their way too far into her shredded flesh, she had rolled her eyes back into her skull and spoke her last words of love to him Her words were simple: "Chain letter chains!" It was the final visionary pronouncement, crowning a life devoted to the pursuit of pleasure through the most fantastic degradations and torments. Her words were simple, and the inspirational fervor with which they were pronounced gave her husband food for much thought in his period of bereavement.Her vision had been a great gift. He would cherish that gift until the time for his own final pleasure arrived. And he would make use of that gift with great energy and devotion until that time. He was making stern use of it now, as the inhabitants of the sheds and caves on his estate could attest.The Signor rose from his table and went out for a walk among his sheds. He came to the one with the woman dangling by her hair from the ceiling chains, and entered it."Well, my dear, the last installment of your payment has been delivered. If she serves me well, you will soon win your freedom. Soon, if she turns out to my liking, you will be awarded your own slaves, and your own sheds in which to discipline them.The woman made no move to answer him. She could not move at all. The thin, skin-hugging plastic made all movement impossible for her. Peligrosa could see every detail of her tormented flesh through the transparent wrapper. She, however, could not see him. Her eyes were covered by thick black patches. But for the plastic, the spiked bracelet that bit into her neck whenever she expanded the walls of her throat by swallowing, the heavy chains that dented the flesh around her ankles and the wrists behind her back, the massive double- ended dildo whose two ends were stuffing the two orifices of her lower body, and but for the thin spindles of silver that perforated the plastic and the scabrous nipples beneath, the thick black patches on her eyes were the only garments that she wore."You must tell me you are pleased, my pet. Your last offering is a choice morsel, a woman of perfect beauty, as perfect as your own, Valencia!"Valencia - for so he called her, and as she no longer had clear memories of her previous life, such she had come to call herself - opened her cracked lips and tried to speak. She had to whisper, lest her adam's apple protrude and suffer punishment from the spikes of her collar."I am glad she pleases you, master!"Peligrosa pushed her gently with the butt of his riding crop. The light thrust sent her body slowly spinning, twining her hair in an ever tighter bundle that gathered up her roots and pulled painfully at the woman's scalp. Her lips hung open, and began to be coated with a thin smear of drool."Ah! You do enjoy this little recreation.Valencia! It pleases me to see you so happy!"As the chains creaked above her, she moved a dry, coated tongue toward the front of her mouth and spoke in a hoarse murmur."Yes! Yes! It pleases me to spin!"Peligrosa peered into her bloodless face with his idiosyncratic substitute for tenderness. He reached to a lever on the wall of the shed, and held it down. The chains moaned, and lowered her."Your lips are so dry, Valencia, I would not like your luscious mouth to become brittle and hard. You must drink, you must have exercise. You will have them now!"When her body had crumpled onto the dirt floor of the shed, Signor Pedro peeled her out of the plastic, first removing the pins in her breasts and the spiked collar, and the double-edged instrument that filled her crotch and anus. The latter he removed slowly, watching her face move through a series of contortions that gave proof of the exquisite pleasure and agony that were mixing together in her brain as she was relieved of their tormenting mass and pressure."When we have returned from your walk, you must remember to watch the television screens as you dangle in your hutch tonight. You will see how well she performs. Let us hope she performs well for us! It will mean much for. you if she does - and much if she does not!" He undid her cuffs and unwound the chains from her feet, then removed the patches from her eyes. He gave her a few moments to recall how to coordinate her limbs, then lifted her to her feet and took out the leash.As she stood dazed and immobile, he draped the leather loop of the leash about her neck and tightened it, leaving just enough slack to permit breathing and small swallows. There was a small ring on the loop to which a long and slender cord was attached. The loose end of the cord clipped onto the ring that Peligrosa had threaded some months ago through the ruffles of her lower lips: one of the first rites of initiation into the mysteries of his order of pain.When he wished to change her course, he would pull on the leash in such a way as to constrict the cord. The spur of pain that would shoot through her loins then would let her know in no uncertain fashion that she was not obeying his whims properly. He seldom needed to engage in that practice any more, Valencia was, by this time, exceptionally well trained.
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