Chapter 1
Not a star could be seen in the midnight sky. Only the full moon added light to the darkness, but the moon was floating behind clouds and mist.
The wind howled up from the hollows, the sunken cavities of the earth.
Angelica shivered. Ordinarily, she would never venture out on a night like this, but the eighteen-year-old beauty had a reason. She was accepted as a trainee at the Veteran's Hospital out in Fort Howard. She was the only female chosen for the traineeship, which meant that she would study speech therapy at the hospital, and receive a salary for the training as well.
Since she would be able to use the experience as part of her college work, Angelica had it made.
She was going to see the hospital for the first time the next morning. Fort Howard was said to be an hour's drive from her parents' house, and since she had never traveled the route before, she decided to set out on a trial run.
She didn't want to be late for the first day on the job, and she assumed that she would arrive on time in the morning if she practiced the route this night before. At night there would be no pressure from heavy traffic, and if she turned off at the wrong curve, she would know what not to do when she actually had a time schedule to keep.
Angelica giggled to herself when a gust of night wind blew up her skirt. The white flared skirt had to be held down so that her nylon panties remained covered. Angelica was a modest girl, despite the abundance of her figure. And yet, when her skirt blew up she was more concerned about the neatness of her mane of blonde hair.
"Don't give me any trouble tonight, baby, please," she whispered to her car. She patted the dashboard gently. The pretty girl had taken to talking to her car since it began stalling at intersections. It didn't happen all the time, and when it did, it was only for a moment or two.
She had meant to take the car into the garage for repair before setting off for Fort Howard, because she knew that the drive to the hospital was a long one. But when she realized that there wouldn't be too many lights to stop for once she got beyond the city limits, she decided to postpone the visit to the garage.
Her father had sold her the metallic blue Chevy for a dollar, so she couldn't complain about not getting her money's worth on the car.
She tuned in her favorite station on the dashboard radio, and with a turn of the ignition key, she was off. At first the drive seemed easy enough, but when she arrived at Carnation Boulevard she was stumped.
Angelica stared at the direction sheet. Just as she thought, Carnation Boulevard did not appear on the sheet. There was no mention of it at all.
She tossed her blonde hair behind her and looked in both directions. The boulevard had exit ramps on the right and the left. She was at a fork in the road, so to speak.
She knew that she shouldn't stay on the boulevard, and yet she was confused about which exit to take. Both paths seemed to lead to darkness. There were apparently no lights on either road, and the moon had hidden itself behind dark clouds again, making Angelica shudder.
Oh well, she sighed. The very reason that she was making this trial run was to avoid these problems in the morning. This was the time that she felt free to make mistakes because now a mistake could be corrected.
Or so she believed.
It was a choice between Bliss Avenue and Lagoon Road. Something told her to take the latter.
Almost as soon as she started along Lagoon Road, the car radio began to wander. She lost her favorite station, and the indicator needle swayed aimlessly. She was unable to find the station again.
"Oh, the things they play on the radio at this hour of the night," she said. Almost every station sounded the same to her. It was this damned chanting which reminded her of church, although the melodies were unlike anything she'd ever heard in her church before.
The chanting filled the car and Angelica finally had to turn the radio off completely. She hit her right ear with the palm of her hand a few times when she heard that chanting in her head even after the radio had been quieted.
There was something eerie about being out on the dark Lagoon Road. There were no cars in front of her, no cars behind. The road curved and was becoming too narrow to accommodate more than one car. She hoped that nobody would be coming in the opposite direction.
Although the road was narrow, it seemed to stretch on into infinity. She had been out on it for at least ten minutes, and not once did she pass any sign of light or life. She kept thinking that something would have to come up sooner or later, but as she continued to drive into the night, the stretch of road ahead remained bleak and black.
"Now, don't get nervous, Angelica," she told herself. "You have plenty of time. It's not like anybody is waiting for you anywhere. If there's nothing at the end of this road, you can always turn back and return to where you started."
She believed that. Almost.
After another ten minutes of the same spooky darkness, with only the howl of the wind and the rustling of the trees to comfort her, Angelica decided to stop and see if she could find anything on the road map which her father had left for her in the glove compartment.
She had resisted looking at the map until now because she wasn't very good at reading the thing. In fact, her sense of direction wasn't very good at all.
But there seemed nothing better to do, and she flicked on the inside light, and observed the maze of lines which represented the geography of the area. She found Fort Howard easily enough because it was located at the very tip of the map.
She found her parents' house on the map, too, because she had circled their street on that map before.
As hard as she searched, however, she was unable to find Lagoon Road. In fact, even Carnation Boulevard was not to be found, and Carnation Boulevard had been the point from which Angelica had started out on Lagoon.
Sighing, she decided that the best thing to do was to continue down the road until she found a place wide enough in which to turn the car around and head back toward the boulevard. If she couldn't find any signs leading toward Fort Howard from there, she would simply have to go home and hope for the best in the morning.
Angelica replaced the road map in its compartment, and she turned the ignition key. The mechanism groaned.
"Oh, no, not here," she said, feeling a flush of heat rush over her body. Being stranded in the middle of the night on a strange, deserted road was the worst thing she could think of. Even if she were able to make it through until dawn, she would be in no condition to face the first day as a trainee at the hospital.
"Please don't die on me," she said to her car. "Not now. Tomorrow, maybe. But please, please not now."
She never imagined that she would be pleading with her car. The machine had reduced her to subservience. She was begging it to work for her.
Try as she did, she could not get the motor to turn over. She'd stop and give the car a rest, and then she'd try again. Each time she hoped her luck would change. Sometimes she even prayed. But finally she broke down in tears at the wheel.
"Oh, what am I going to do now?" she asked herself. "There's probably no telephone for miles."
She was afraid that if she left her car in the middle of the road, someone might eventually come through, but bang the bumper in the process. She was totally frustrated because she seemed to have absolutely no control over any of this.
To make matters worse, a bolt of lightning streaked through the night sky, signaling a pouring rain. Angelica was desperate.
The rain began pouring from the sky in torrents. It was beating down on the car and bouncing back up again. Angelica sat at the wheel and held her ears. The pounding of the insistent rain was echoing in her head.
Thunder quaked the earth. The trees along the side of the road bent to the will of the wind. A branch cracked in two, and the limb crashed down on the windshield of Angelica's car.
"Oh, great," she said aloud. "What's next?"
She expected almost anything. Almost.
Angelica was, not one to give up that easily. When the situation seemed hopeless, she was ready to give it another try. She gave herself a little pep talk, and just then an intense and long-lasting tremor of lightning illuminated the sky and the road before her.
She couldn't be certain, because she wasn't certain of anything at this moment, but she thought that she saw something further on down the road. It looked like a house at the side of the road, shrouded in trees and bushes, perhaps out there was a refuge. Maybe.
Once more she tried the motor, but it was as cold as the chilled night air. Although she had no coat, no umbrella, no covering for her head at all, Angelica left her car and walked in the rain in hope of finding shelter, or a telephone, or something.
With the sky opening up and pelting her as it was, Angelica trotted along down Lagoon Road, getting soaked as she ran. Her hair was hanging in rivulets down over her voluptuous breasts. Her white dress was clinging to her body with the wetness. The front of the pleated skirt hugged her private part.
Another bolt of lightning cut through the sky, and this time Angelica's eyes were focused on the spot ahead where she had seen the house. This time she was sure of what she saw. It was still a distance away, but it definitely did appear to be an old house at the side of the road.
In the moment of illumination she saw a shudder flap in the breeze and she hoped that the house was occupied. She prayed that it wasn't deserted, as was everything else along this God forsaken path.
She was so soaked now that she didn't even care. All she was thinking about was the refuge she might find if anybody lived inside the old house. When she got closer to it, she heard sound. It was the sound of singing. Strangely, it reminded her of the chanting she had heard on the radio earlier, only this was even more bizarre.
Angelica wondered for a moment if she should even dare knock on the door. That chanting frightened her. And yet, with the rain and the wind and her aloneness on the empty road, she decided that she had better knock at the door and see what the knock would bring her.
There was a slight overhang which finally protected Angelica from the downpour. She stood under the protection and used the brass knocker to rap on the door.
She knocked more than once; more than twice. Finally the door was opened with a creaking noise which sounded like a rocking chair on an old back porch.
"Come in my dear, we've been expecting you," an ancient woman in a long black robe told the wet and shivering girl.
"Oh, no, you don't know me," Angelica explained, not wanting to lead the old woman on to thinking that she was someone she wasn't.
"Of course I know you," the woman answered. "Now come in out of the rain."
There was a towel on the bureau in the hallway which served as the entrance to the house. It was almost as if they really had been expecting her. But then, it was only thoughtfulness to have a dry towel waiting for wet visitors who might come in the night.
The woman handed Angelica the towel and suggested that she dry her head.
"Thank you very much," Angelica replied, "but about my identity, I'm afraid there's some mistake. I wasn't expected here. I came here by accident when I took the wrong turn in the road."
The woman laughed a little laugh. "Oh, my dear," she sighed. "When will you young girls ever learn? My dear, there are no mistakes and no accidents. How could you have taken the wrong turn in the road when you are here?"
Angelica was puzzled.
"Nobody comes here by accident," the woman continued. "You may not yet know the reason that you're here, but soon it will be clear to you. Now get out of those wet clothes. I have some dry things waiting for you."
"Oh, no, I can't stay. I'm only here for a minute. I wonder if I may use your telephone?"
"We have no telephone," the woman said. "Now come inside and change into the clothes I have for you."
This was all very peculiar to young Angelica, but she did want to change into something warm, and the woman did seem friendly, even if a bit odd. Angelica followed the robed woman into another room.
When Angelica got inside the room, the woman quickly moved around her. Angelica looked down on the small cot in the otherwise bare room. There was a grey-colored rag on the cot.
"That's your uniform," the woman said. "Get into it and wait for one of the Whipmasters to come for you."
"What do you mean?" Angelica asked, her face showing her worry and fear. Something was very strange about this place, about this night, about the rag on the cot which was supposed to be her uniform.
But the woman didn't turn back. All Angelica heard was the slamming of the heavy door, and then she heard it being locked and bolted on the other side.
"Wait, you can't do this to me!" Angelica protested, running to the door and trying to open it. "Let me out of here. There's some mistake. You can't kidnap me and keep me captive here. It's against my will. Somebody, listen!"
She banged on the door but it wouldn't budge. She rammed her little fists on the heavy oak, but to no avail.
She sneezed, and realized that she must have been coming down with a cold on top of everything else. The eighteen-year-old blonde felt really lost.
Looking around the room she noticed that it was more like a cell than a normal room. Only the cot filled the space. There were strange clamp-like fixtures in the floor and on the walls and ceiling. Some of the hooks of heavy metal had rings inserted through them. The hook-rings seemed to be placed in pairs. Angelica couldn't figure them out.
The only other things in the room were equally bizarre. On the wall opposite her cot, there was what appeared to be a peephole. It was about three inches in circumference. It was a circle, the only passage leading to an adjoining room.
There was no other light in the room except the light which flowed from the adjoining room into Angelica's quarters. That was how she noticed the small hole so readily, because of the light streaming through.
She placed her eye close to the hole. What she saw amazed and shocked her.
Lying on the cot in the adjoining room was another girl, a girl who appeared to be close to Angelica in age and appearance. The girl in the next room had dark hair, though, which she wore long and straight. She was a pretty girl, although there was a strange look on her face. She looked as if she were waiting for something.
She was dressed in the 'uniform,' the same rag that had been left for Angelica, on Angelica's cot. The dull rag was barely covering the voluptuous body of the girl in the next room. One of her breasts was completely bare.
And that was when Angelica noticed the sight that shocked her the most. The girl's left breast, the exposed one, bore a tattoo on the tender flesh. Several inches above the girl's stiffened, rosy-tipped nipple, a red star had been emblazoned.
The red star was perfectly obvious, since it created a striking contrast with the white cream of the girl's breast.
Angelica was going to call into the room when she noticed something else. The girl's left ankle was wrapped in a steel cuff of some kind. It was obviously closed tightly around the ankle, keeping the girl in place on the cot.
Attached to the cuff was a heavy chain connecting down to a ring in the floor. A ring! Angelica glanced quickly at the ring in the floor near her own cot. She looked at the tattered cloth which was to serve as her uniform. She looked at the other rings and clamps which were fixed in the cement walls and poured concrete floor.
The old house which creaked in the wind was far more fortified on the inside than one would ever imagine when seeing the decaying place from the outside.
From the outside it looked like a haunted house, but inside it was even more horrifying than that. It didn't seem to be haunted, unless one said that it was haunted with leaders of some bizarre cult.
What they wanted, was still unknown to Angelica. But she was certain that it had something to do with young, innocent girls.
She heard a door being unbolted, and she rushed to hers, awaiting its opening. It didn't happen. The sounds were coming from the room beside hers. Angelica moved to the peephole, and watched in awe.
"Oh, my God," she whispered. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Her heart began racing and she could feel every beat as if her heart were going to jump from her breast. Instinctively she placed her hand over her breast, very near to the delicate place on which the girl in the next cell had the red tattoo.
"Mary Jane, you know why I have come," a man's voice said deeply.
"Yes, Master. I know why you are here," the girl answered.
Through the peephole, Angelica was unable to see the man's face. He was standing too close to the other side of the peephole for Angelica to get a full length view of him. But she did see that the man must have been naked except for a thick black belt around his waist. His bare buttocks were close to the hole, and on the left cheek he had a red star tattoo!
His arms were muscled. In his right hand he held an evil looking whip.
"Tell me why you need to be punished," the man demanded.
"I am to be punished for my thoughts," the girl answered softly. It was almost as if she were hypnotized. Angelica saw the girl, chained to the cot, in the V between the wide-stanced legs of the man the girl called 'Master.' Ah, one of the Whipmasters the old lady had spoken of, no doubt.
"What are your thoughts, Mary Jane. Tell your Master why you are to be punished in detail," the man said, fingering the long bull whip as he spoke.
"I am only seventeen years old," Mary Jane replied. "Although I have never done anything with a boy, I have been tempted. From time to time I've found myself feeling, well, sort of tingling in certain places when a handsome boy passed my way and gave me the eye. I felt that I wanted to, well, be with him if you know what I mean."
The Master, obviously infuriated, cracked the whip against the floor with a fury. The whip struck so forcefully, Angelica thought that it must have bitten into the cement floor. She recoiled. Her sex lips were damp with fear.
"What was that you were feeling when you felt yourself desiring intercourse with a young man of the street?" the Master snarled.
"It was lust, Master, it was lust!" Mary Jane answered. She began to weep.
"Yes, Mary Jane. Very good. Cry your sins away. You'll cry much more before you have learned your lessons."
"It was lust, it was lust," Mary Jane sobbed repeatedly.
"Yes, Mary Jane. It was lust. It was nothing but primitive animal attraction. But we are here to give you much more than that, aren't we, Mary Jane?"
"Yes, Master. You are here to train me to serve with love. You are here to teach me the difference between sex and love," she answered, half in true belief, and half in the parroting of phrases which had obviously been drilled into her. At least, that was Angelica's appraisal of the utterance. Angelica, repulsed by this scene, assumed that poor Mary Jane had been coaxed by the whip.
"Are you being trained to serve your ultimate Master?" the man with the whip asked Mary Jane.
"Yes, Master. I am being trained so that when I am presented to him I will pleasure him in all ways. My answers will be as pleasing to him as my physical gifts. They will all be gifts for him. I will give myself unto him in the name of pure love."
"Very good, Mary Jane. You know that you will be a virgin gift to the Master, do you not?"
"Yes, I will be a virgin gift."
"To insure that you are not tempted to lose your virginity, I am going to whip you now. You will receive ten harsh strokes for that. And then you will receive another five for your sins. You will feel much better after I am through."
"Yes, Master," Mary Jane replied, and she obediently placed herself face down on her cot. Her full breasts pressed softly into the surface of the cot. She remained in the humbled position and didn't move at all when the Master opened the back of the cloth which barely covered her. He exposed her bare buttocks and finely curved back.
Angelica watched as the Whipmaster took something out of the pouch attached to the leather belt which circled his trim waist. It was a thick cone-shaped object.
"Place this where it belongs," the Master told Mary Jane.
"Yes, sir," she answered obediently. She took the object from the stern man and arched her buttocks up. She placed the object beneath her. It looked as if she placed it in her sex lips.
"You know what that is for, don't you, Mary Jane?" he said.
"Yes, Sir. When the ultimate Master takes me, I will have to be stretched wide enough to accept his huge member. The f-piece is designed to work my lips apart."
"That is correct, Mary Jane," the man said. "But what must you watch for?"
"I must be careful not to let the tool slide too far in. It must remain at my outer lips. I must be a virgin on the day I am taken."
"That is correct," the Whipmaster repeated. "There will many trials for you here. Many times you will meet temptation. It is for you to resist, if you expect to offer yourself unto the ultimate Master. Even when I beat you now, the desire to move your buttocks away will be great. But if you press your buttocks down in an effort to escape the lash, you will force the f-piece into your cuntal realm."
"I won't let that happen, Sir," Mary Jane whispered. "I'll take the full force of all of the blows," she told him.
"Good, Mary Jane. Good. I present your mouth with the whip."
He stretched the black leather whip between his hands and placed it at Mary Jane's mouth. Obediently she took the menacing leather in her mouth, and got it slick with her saliva. The man told her that the more wet the whip was, the better the crack would be when it landed on her bare flesh.
Angelica's hand found her own moistening sex lips. She felt the soft flesh and she trembled to think that her private place might be used for the insertion of an f-piece, as Mary Jane's was.
She ran her hands over her body, feeling the tender breasts, and stroking the stiffening nipples and the fragile area where Mary Jane was tattooed. She felt her soft white skin and shivered to imagine that a black whip could be used to cut into it.
"This is for the Master," the man in the next room announced. "Take the whip for the Master and know that this is only an introduction to its sting. If you misbehave before the ultimate Master, he will give you something much more hurtful."
"Thank you, Sir," the young teenager sighed. "I am ready for black whip."
There was a moment of silence when everything was still. Then the man raised his muscled arm high. The whip was raised with it, like an evil snake with a wicked bite. Angelica trembled even more than Mary Jane did. Mary Jane was already on her road to slavery, while Angelica was still a novice to pain.
The man stepped back to give himself as much room to swing the whip as the confined space would allow. Young Mary Jane looked up at the Master's face as he swung the whip down on her flanks. She heard it whistle through the air, and then she felt the stinging first crack.
"Oh, oh," she groaned when it hit. She had been whipped by this Master before, and she knew to expect severe treatment, but this first stroke was more than she expected it would be. Signs of previous abuse still remained on her posterior, but her memory of the intensity of the blows had mercifully been weakened with time.
It all came back to her, however. It came back again and again, and she thought that she would never be able to forget this whipping.
Just as the black whip striped her bare bottom, another stroke would flail her, leaving still another strip of pain to burn on her flesh.
Her rounded globes were white, at first, but each new stroke was carefully placed to make her entire posterior ache from the red hot punishment strokes.
The Master was not called Whipmaster for nothing. He was an expert disciplinarian, who specialized in the disciplining of young girls. The girls who somehow found their way to this house were always beautiful girls, and the Whipmaster did his good work with a sense of pleasure.
Often he was aroused. His heavy organ would fill with blood as he turned the bare buttocks of a girl like Mary Jane into a cherry red expanse of soreness. He would make no attempt to hide his arousal. Since he was bare but for his utility belt, his monstrous erection would be temptation for the punished slavegirl.
So it was with Mary Jane, who had admitted to feeling a stirring in her crevice of pleasure when she was in the company of a male. The Master was giving himself to Mary Jane in the form of the whipping. He was doing more than simply giving the girl sensation within her young vagina, as most men would do.
He was laying sensation all over her body, and he placed his power wherever he chose. Mary Jane was there to take it.
Young Mary Jane felt the sweat pouring off the hard-working Master. When it dripped onto her well-beaten flesh, it practically sizzled. The whipped slavegirl watched her Master's blood-engorged Manhood bounce up and down each time his body lurched with the force of the expertly-administered whip strokes.
Her tender body bent to the will of the whip. She bent, but she forced herself to keep her bottom raised high enough to please and satisfy. She didn't dare sink her weight down into the cot. That would mean deep insertion of the f-piece, and she couldn't even imagine what punishments would befall her if that happened.
"How many has that been, Mary Jane?" the man asked her.
She was aware that she should have been counting the number of strokes in her head so that she would be aware at every moment of each detail of her punishment. She had been distracted by the sight of the Master towering above her, and she prayed that she came up with the correct response.
The Master, of course, had been counting the strokes he gave, and he would start from the beginning if Mary Jane hadn't done the same.
"That was number nine, Master," Mary Jane said hopefully.
"Nine? Are you certain?" he said harshly.
Mary Jane trembled. She wasn't sure. She wondered if the man was testing her. She knew that she hadn't responded with much conviction.
Deciding that she might get away with it if she stuck to her original answer and said it with conviction, she answered him again.
"Yes, it was nine, Sir."
"Good, Mary Jane. It was nine. And now I will give you the tenth blow."
"Please, Master. May I have the tenth blow?" she asked.
"Stick your bottom up," he said. "Get it up high."
She raised her round rump. It was perfectly curved. Two perfect half moons, all peachy and smooth. A deep cleft, quivering as the whip kissed the flesh, covering it with its scarlet kisses. Heat radiated from the soft behind.
Swish. Crack!
A tenth blazing sting burned into the bottom of young Mary Jane.
That was only the beginning. There were still five more to go. And the final five were always the hardest.
The black whip was placed at Mary Jane's mouth again.
"Kiss it. Kiss the whip that trains you," the Master told her.
"Yes Sir," she answered respectfully. "I will kiss the whip that trains me for the ultimate Master. I know that this is being done so that I will learn of love. I want to love. I want love. I want to serve a man who cares for me."
"And then you shall have no wants," the young Whipmaster told her. "Your body will be his body. Your entire being will belong to him. The purpose of your body will be only to serve him. Now suck on the whip."
Mary Jane felt the braided leather of the bull whip scrape across her tongue. She wrapped her pink tongue muscle around the whip which beat her. She could feel the heat from her punished posterior on the tip of the whip.
She closed her mouth around the punishing weapon of pain. She was unwilling to part with it.
But when she had soaked it, the young Whipmaster ripped it from her oral grasp. He pulled it out and flailed her with it, giving her the final five strokes in a volley of rapid fire. If there had been an inch of unmarked flesh on her buttocks, it was red hot and, well marked now.
She gritted her teeth and took the terrible punishment. All the time she watched the hefty tool sticking out eight thick inches from the hairy crotch of the disciplinarian.
She wanted to take hold of his thing, just for the comfort and support. It would have helped her get through the beating. She wanted to feel that thing in her hands and in her mouth. She wanted to feel it down her throat, and ... but she didn't want to even think of such things.
The man had warned her about temptation. He had told her that it would show itself many times before she could be presented to the ultimate Master. She would have to learn to resist, despite the fact that the Whipmasters would be more than happy to oblige a slavegirl with a dose of their sex when provoked.
It was only that the girls would then lose their virginity, and they would forfeit all that they had worked for.
It was work to take those whippings. It was work to be the object of torture as the girls were, for there were more severe practices going on in this house than a mere whipping!
For Mary Jane it was perhaps most difficult to avoid temptation. A pearl of semen appeared at the slit of the Whipmaster's tool. Aching for it, the teenaged girl licked her lips.
"I saw that, Mary Jane!" the Whipsman declared. "It's a good thing that chain is securing you to your cot. You're going to punished for that gesture, young lady!"
Mary Jane felt the hot tears fill her eyes. She knew that she deserved to be punished for that indiscretion.
Still peeping through the peephole, Angelica assumed that the punished beauty was crying tears of pain and humiliation. Angelica had much to learn. Mary Jane was feeling the pain and the humiliation. But she was crying tears of joy.
Mary Jane knew that she was being prepared for the ultimate Master. He would only accept perfection.
Fate had chosen Angelica for similar rewards. She too would cry grateful tears.
For now, Angelica trembled and rubbed the tender flesh of her back as she watched Mary Jane get beaten again.
"I'm going to spare your bottom new bruises over the old. This time I will work on your back and upper thighs," the Whipmaster told Mary Jane.
"Thank you for your caring," Mary Jane answered softly.
The fierce bull whip, slicked with her own saliva, smacked wetly into her virgin flesh.