Slaver's Bait: The Taking of Cheryl Read Online Free Page A

the chair and pulled her to her feet. Tamara and Agfa watched silently and knowingly as the Turk pulled the startled woman from the room. When Denise saw that she was being led to the cellar door, she believed that the man, whose name she still did not know, had decided to lock her into her cell for the night. She followed him docilely as he took her down the cold, hard stairs. She was surprised when they bypassed the door to her cell. Instead, he led her to another heavy steel encased door on the other side of the carpeted corridor.
    The Turk unlocked the door and swung it open. He dragged Denise in by her chain, causing her to stumble as she crossed the threshold. When she looked up, her stomach sank. Before her was an array of fiendish devices that she knew could only serve a single purpose, the administration of cruel tortures.
    The Turk had no taste tonight for the slow and painful tortures that the various racks, stocks and enclosures could provide. His fever could only be cooled by the immediate and direct application of pain to this woman who symbolized all that he hated, both in the world and in himself.
    Denise started to whimper and tried to communicate a plea for pity. But her gag stifled all words. She went limp and sank to her knees. Her fear had no effect on the Turk other than to serve his pleasure. He would take pleasure in beating this woman, transferring his pain to her.
    A long chain descended from the ceiling in the center of the room looped through an eyelet embedded there. Turk dragged Denise over to it and pushed her to the floor. Forcing her to her stomach, he released her arms from behind her back. He took one wrist and clipped it to one end of the chain. He pulled on the other end of the chain, forcing Denise first to her knees and then to her feet.
    The frantic woman dug her heels into the cement floor and tried to waive her other arm out of the Turk’s reach. Her efforts were futile as the Turk easily captured it and joined it to its mate. He then pulled the chain tight until Denise’s toes barely touched the floor. Stepping over to the wall, he locked the chain into place.
    Denise’s body writhed as she dangled at the end of the chain. She was sobbing, terrified at the prospect of her imminent torture. The Turk savored her fear. Her delectable body was now covered with a sheen of sweat that her fear had wrung out of her. He stepped towards her and ran his hands over the breasts and belly that he owned. He peered deeply into her blue eyes relishing the panic that was reflected in them. He could hear her murmurs of hysterical pleading from behind her mask. It steeled him in his purpose.
    It was difficult for Denise’s mind to comprehend what was happening to her. What had she ever done, she thought, to deserve such cruel treatment? How would she be able to stand the pain of whatever torture this dark, hard man had in store for her?
    The Turk stepped back and took a long, narrow hickory switch from the wall. He swished it in the air in satisfaction. It would do nicely.
    When Denise saw the switch, she realized that she was to be whipped. She remembered the sharp, painful lashes she had received from the Turk in the apartment. She realized that this was not to be several quick, sharp blows meant as a punishment. This was something else. This beating was to be for its own sake. It purpose was for nothing more than the satisfaction of her master’s sadistic pleasure.
    Before commencing Denise’s torment, the Turk used small, thick leather belts to fasten Denise’s legs together at the ankles and just below her knees. He connected the ankle belt to a hook recessed in the floor. He then pulled the chain tighter, stretching Denise so that her body presented an unmovable, taut target.
    The first blow of the switch fell on the twin globes of Denise’s ass. It produced an immediate red line of damaged flesh. Denise howled at the pain. It stung fiercely and reverberated throughout her body. The