short
The Badhul Khani misfit
"How very curious..."
Duhl Sharkan stared at the bound woman at his feet. She was young, little more than a girl. Her head and neck were tied to a pillar, keeping her in a slouched position. Her arms were tied behind her and there were ropes all around her upper body, further securing them. Her hands and feet were wrapped in wet leather bands. And then there was the ceremonial crotch rope.
She had injured three men severly, before finally being subdued. Now this was not suprising: many men had fallen in the proces of bringing Badhul Khani prisoners down. This one had come with nails so long and hard that her hands and feet were more like claws. And she had used them in a very effective fighting style. But then again: given the specific circomstances, three men should have been enough. Frankly, even one man should have suffied.
Duhl Sharkan turned to one of the wounded soldiers standing beside him.
"So you are telling me that all this took place AFTER you had loosened her hair?"
Allowance day
The first of August. Emma hated the day. Every year on the first of August, Frederick the III got his annual allowance, and the agency would send her over, to the mansion, for him to have his way with her. Why always her? Well, because she was his favorite, of course. The bastard could tell that he was able to get under her skin.
Mrs. Davis’s struggle
For the next shoot Gerald had made her sit on the office chair, with its back turned to the desk. Gingerly, she had moved herself to the edge of the seat. Between her thighs, there was a large vibrator anchored to her loins. He hadn't turned it on, of course, because actual sexual activities were prohibited: this they had agreed upon. But even as a dead piece of plastic it had sent a tingle up her spine as she first sat down. The seat had forced it into a slight downward angle, causing it to press firmly onto her sensitive spot. In search of relief, she had shoved herself forward as much as possible. As it toppled over, that made the vibrator hang down in the crotch harness, reducing the pressure on her vagina somewhat. All the small movements she had had to make in the progress however had triggered their own effects.
Jack-knife
As the bus slowly found its way through the busy city trafic, Mrs. Davis glanced at her fellow travelers and smiled inwardly. Sitting there in her grey raincoat, with her handbag in her lap and her brown hat on her grey coiffure she mused how none of them could have the slightest idea of what she would be looking like one hour from now.
Come to think of it, she didn't either, frankly. She never knew exactly what Gerald had in store for her. And on top of that things were going to be different: she would be working with another model. For the first time! She felt a little anxious.
But she needn't have to. Her co-star, who introduced herself as Esmee Gonzales, turned out to be friendly and cheerful, and Mrs. Davis liked her instantly. Mrs. Gonzales was in her early sixties, like herself and within five minutes they were exchanging stories about their children and grandchildren.
After having served tea, Gerald joined them. He told them how hard it had been to find a second model. He had been looking for someone of the same height as Mrs. Davis, and the exact same weight. And the same age even. It all played into the shoot, he explained, assuring them they would understand it when they would start. He stood up and cleaned the table, as the women started to undress.