[darkstalker]

so I finally got over my writer's block for this one and was in the mood for a little more asian. so hope you enjoy the new installment.
*****

She breathes unevenly, having difficulty breathing around the ball gag in her mouth, her teeth pressed hard against the leather ball stretching her jaws to an uncomfortable degree. Saliva and drool are trailing down her neck and what little air she has is hot and warm, fetid underneath the leather hood they placed over her head. There are no eye sockets or even a mouth socket, so the leather presses again her lips uncomfortably. No, it only has a nose slit where she can take in some fresh air, if smog filled air stained by tobacco can be called fresh.
She tries to keep calm, to breathe evenly, for any time she begins to gag, chocking on the fumes, the collar on her neck is suddenly jerked forward, threats whispered to her which she has trouble perceiving or understanding. What she has no trouble understanding is when one of the men in lieu of these threats decides to plug her nose, not letting her breathe. Then her body begins to buck, trying to suck in air from the small opening she has and being restrained from doing so.
This is only compounded by her arms being tied behind her back, forced at such an angle she can almost feel her shoulders grinding. It is too much. At the third point time she passes out. When she wakes it’s to an acrid odor she is unaccustomed to and her eyes snap open, her mouth opening wide and taking huge mouthfuls of air. She breathes rapidly, her eyes blinking, looking at the smokey air in a stifling room dimly lit by overhead lights. She does not have long to acclimate herself before she is jerked off the table, gripped by her hair with her neck straining back.
There are several men in the room and she stares with large eyes, her breathing coming in quick sharp burst. An old man, with slicked back hair receding from his forehead and large double chin waddles up to her. He touches her cheek with some fat digits, greasy discolored fingers running down her cheek. A dark smile crosses his lips.
“You will do as I say, no?” he says quietly. She does not answer, instead keeping her eyes averted from the man. There is silence for a time and then something cracks across her face hard enough to make her fall to the floor. She has barely fallen before the leash at her neck is being jerked and she is chocking, scrabbling on the floor in her high heels.
“That is enough son,” says the man and the collar is loosened allowing Vivian to fall back to the floor, coughing. She hears him turn away, his shoes clicking on the concrete floor when the collar is jerked once more, one of the Russians whispering softly in her ear.
“You straighten up around father or you will be seriously punished. Understood?”
She does not answer, only a slight chocking noise coming from her parted lips. The collar is tightened once more, squeezing and the Russian grips her hair, jerking it back. “Understood?” he says again. She nods, the tears streaming down her eyes.
“Good,” says the man, releasing her and letting her slump back against the floor. “Now remember to do what father tells you or it will be much worse.”
“You can leave her collar on,” says the old man as he pours himself a glass of wine, taking a small sip from the glass. “And the leash as well.” He smiles, the shadows playing over his face. “She is a dog after all. Let her know her place.”
The other men in the shadows chuckle, soft whispers running through them, but with a raise of the old man’s hand everything is silenced. “You can go now, my sons,” he says.
The two men nod, but Vivian doesn’t worry about them, instead simply staring at the man who pulls a chair before her, dragging it across the floor and setting it before her. She watches him intently, hearing only briefly as the door behind her slams with a resounding clang.
The floor is cold against her breasts and legs but colder still is the feeling she gets from the man who looks over her with cold calculating eyes. He takes a sip from his glass, swishing the contents in his mouth slowly before swallowing. Staring briefly at his glass he says, “Fine wine is like fine women I would like to say. Better with age and experience. But...”
And he tilts the contents of the glass over her face, making her shake her head incidentally rubbing her hair in the floor. “We know that is not the case,” he says. He places a shoe against her cheek, grinding her face into the dirty floor. “Already you have been a disobedient woman and do not even dare stare me in the eye. Isn’t that so?”
“Ahhhh!” she yells. “I’ll be good! Just don’t hurt me!”
The boot to her stomach is sudden, and she coughs, spittle trailing down her lips as the wind is knocked out of her. Her hair is jerked up by the bangs and the man turns his head, considering her.
“No...” he says slowly. “No. You have been disobedient and even now you say what is opposite of what you said on your introduction.”
“Introduction? What introduction?” she says, her eyes squeezed shut as she strains against the man’s hold. The slap against her face sounds loudly in the near empty room and she moans in pain. Her cheeks, now squeezed together as the man holds her with his thick chubby hand, feel hurt and pained.
“You are a very stupid girl aren’t you?” he says. “The video I received from Ahmed says “you will give any service.” And you were quite... convincing in that regard.” He leans back on his seat, the chair creaking with his weight. “Am I to believe I was misled Ms. Hansen? Because I will make this session far worse for you if I have. As punishment for Ahmed misleading me.”
She leans her head down, biting back her tears. “So Ms. Hansen,” he says, “you will be obedient in whatever we say or are you still going to be resistant?”
She looks at the man, at the small beads of eyes he has and then towards the gathering of men, some thin, some large but all looking at her intently. All masked in shadow, smoke drifting from their cigars. She lets her head fall back and nods.
“I... I will be obedient.”

“Good,” he says, “now go to the center of the room and dance for me.”
“Yes,” says the Asian, her words meek but cut sharp. It is barely a whisper but she positions herself, standing on her wobbly legs. He runs a hand over her tan yellow legs and can feel as the woman shivers and moves rapidly out of his reach. “Oh, and Ms. Hansen?” he says.
She stops, a slight tremble running down her arms. “Keep your eyes on me throughout the duration of this game and ask me before you do anything.”
She nods in a curt way. He smiles and takes a cigar from pocket. He hasn’t told her all the rules yet, and she will be punished for that. But that is exactly why he has done it this way.
He smiles, clicking the lighter with the small flame flashing beneath his cigar. Soon the end is burning red and Valentin puts it to his lips, sucking on it slowly. She will do nicely, this one, for the day, he thinks, watching her.
He watches, that bronze skin so tantalizing and asking to be abused he thinks. Long lustrous hair a deep brown so rich it is almost black, wanting to be pulled and jerked with those slanted eyes perfect to spit into. He enjoys the sway of her hips, how her skirt nearly rides up her butt asking anyone nearby to give her a good fucking.
That is his sons’ doing, of course. She never would have dawned something so provocative judging by how quiet and serious she is. But that is a perk of working with Sans and Inc. Having people who would never have done certain things do them by force. All thanks to the power of lustful men with greed, power and some spare time to kill, and the right resources of course. He smiles once more, pulling the cigar from between his fat lips.
The Asian woman stands herself in the center of the room and begins to gyrate her hips, swinging them suggestibly from side to side. The dance is awkward, especially with her arms tied up behind her back as they are.
He notes Alexi lean forward, his thin wiry frame masked in shadow. He nods. He’d brought his three closest associates to enjoy this woman. So he’d let them enjoy her.
“Ms. Hansen,” he says, “Draw yourself closer to the seats. I think my associates would like a closer look at you.”
She glares at him from under a matt of hair but complies, moving herself towards the seat where Alexi leans forward. He watches everything, a contented feeling in his gut.
The three seats where his associates are lined up are on the Asian’s right and left while there is a large cushioned seat behind her. Seven large men pace about or look into the distance, their hulking figures keeping guard. He notes one or two glance at the woman every so often but not for very long. He smiles inwardly. These men are also part of the entertainment. Strict, hard men with discipline, but ones who enjoy a good tumble in the sack every once in awhile, even when someone else is watching. They are broken men, disturbed men, and perfect for this sort of game. After all, watching is half the fun.
And that is part of the game, to make the woman suffer more as her degradation is watched by a group rather then alone and one on one. It makes her shame and humiliation all the greater and she has a tougher time keeping her eyes on him which adds to the punishment he may inflict on her.
He puts a hand to his chin, watching as Alexi leans his hand down towards the woman.

Vivian shivers, feeling a man’s hand run down over her hip. Instinctively she turns away from him, moving away and shaking her hips, keeping a smile on her face and turning to look with a glare at the fat man who sits smoking his cigar.
How she ever got so degraded as to become a private dancer for criminals is beyond her. One day she is helping with her firm in prosecuting men like those sitting before her and the next she is here dancing for...
The thin man’s hand is suddenly running up her thighs and she gasp, moving back and just out of reach of him, almost stumbling but barely saving herself. She has to be on guard and not give the men extra reasons to punish her.
She can see the man stare, his lower lip protruding outwards and his shoulders hunching in anger. She is likely going to have to do sexual favors for them all but she won’t make it simple for them. She will make them all know she isn’t in compliance with this.
There is a snap of fingers and she turns to look at the fat man who sits in a chair off to the distance. “Vivian, please remove your blouse and skirt will you?”
“What?” she asks, her eyes growing wide.
“Are you questioning me?” he says in a dark tone.
“No....” she says trying to fake a smile. “Just... I can’t undress with my hands tied behind my back...” She wiggles her arms trying to show him her problem.
“Then you are defying orders?”
“No!” she says, sweat starting to drip down her forehead. He is looking for an excuse to punish her! God damn it all, she thinks. “I just can’t do anything with my hands...”
“Excuses! All you women are always filled with them.”
“But...”
The man snaps his fingers and one of the figures who was walking past turns his attention to her. “Vlad. Help Ms. Hansen with her blouse.”
And the hulking figure lumbers towards her, a fat face much like his master’s but with a stupid look in his eyes, short cropped hair and a fat gut. But he is large and his fist are the size of large hams.
“No...” she says. “If you’ll just untie me, I can...”
“Do not question me Ms. Hansen. Vlad. Proceed. Ms. Hansen, keep dancing.”
She swallows a wad of saliva, her mouth going dry, watching from the corner of her eye as the hulking figure of a man approaches her. The figure is still for a moment, regarding her and she watches him for any movement.
He does not move right away but then there is something that passes between him and the old man and he lunges towards her, his large hands clamping down on her breasts. “Ow!” she screams, feeling the large digits dig into her still tender and sore flesh, squeezing. “Ow! You’re hurting me!”
But the man does not stop, instead squeezing and jerking on her mounds, his thumbs and forefingers pressing down into her flesh and squeezing it, pressing down on it and pulling it like a rolling pin on her breasts. It is highly painful and she stares at the old man, tears streaming down her eyes. “Make him stop!” she cries. “Make him stop!”
“You are quite the defiant one Ms. Hansen,” says Valentin, putting a finger under his chin. “You refuse to follow any orders I give you and now you make demands. What a foolish woman.”
“Pleeeaaassseee!” she says, the pain rushing through her breasts rapidly.
“Vlad,” he says. The man stops almost instantly.
“Thank you,” says Vivian. “Tha...”
“Be quiet woman!” he snaps, his temper seeming to flare suddenly. She is quiet, her eyes bulging. She feels Vlad’s fingers press against her breasts, rubbing less then gently.
“Now...” says Valentin, enjoying how unbalanced and fearful the woman is. “Open her blouse so my associates can see her more properly.”
The large man’s hands on her breasts suddenly grab at the fabric from both sides and split it open, jerking it wide in a sudden ripping motion, tearing open the blouse with buttons popping and scattering across the floor. The man then begins to fondle her breasts, less fabric in the way of his probing fingers. His calloused hands rub hard against her wounds. “Ah!” Vivian yells, swinging her head back and forth. “Ah! Please stop!”
Women are most pitiful Valentin thinks, watching as the woman struggles against his man’s grip. Most pitiful but highly beautiful. “Show her to the others and let them feel her skin.” He snaps his fingers and Vlad jerks the woman around, her body nearly stumbling, a shoe lost in the exchange.
Alexi of course, is the first to greet her with a padding from his thin warped fingers. If he could that man would fuck her repeatedly. Valentin smiles, leaning back, considering this.
For Vivian, the feel of the thin man’s hands over her breasts, long bony digits with nails that are too long and chipped, tracing over her skin makes her blood chill. But she can do nothing as more hands begin to probe her breasts. “These are good,” one man says.
“Yes, nice and large,” says another.
“Good for Vlad to pound against.”
“Ow!” she yelps as one man’s hand trails down her bra and grips her nipple between two sharp edged nails. She struggles against their binds, swinging her breasts left and right, but to little effect as the men continue to fondle her, murmuring amongst themselves.
Someone suddenly jerks her hair back, forcing her mouth open and pushes into her mouth, his tongue probing against hers. She stares wide eyed, this probing surprising and unwelcome. Out of instinct she bites down and the man jerks back with a yelp.
“Is something wrong Alexi?” says Valentin, noticing as Alexi has jumped back, his hand jerking towards his lip.
“The woman bit me,” he says. There is anger in his voice, a light growl issuing from his lips.
“So it is,” says Valentin, already bored with watching them fondle her. It’s time to up the game. “Vlad, you like her breasts, correct?”
The man nods. There is a crack and the woman suddenly moans as Alexi is close to her, his hand squeezing her throat, whispering a threat to her. “Are you done Alexi?” says Valentin in a monotone voice.
The man glares back at him but nods. He will need to be reigned in some, but Valentin can afford a few... setbacks to tonight’s game.
“Alright then,” he says. “Vlad, fuck her breasts until you spill your seed all over them. And don’t worry about removing her bra, that is good as is.”

Vlad jerks the woman away from the old men suddenly, bringing her back by the hair. He’d been arrested years ago for an assault and battery of a woman. He’d raped her and left her black and blue and barely moving. He’d landed in jail with a life sentence but had quickly been exonerated by Valentin. And Valentin then gave him more then the one woman he went out with. He gave him several. Almost weekly. Like this bronze colored little whore at his feet now. Her big bags of flesh swinging, wanting to be fucked.
He unbuckles his trousers quickly, jerking his pants down one handed while he holds the whore who stares at him with pleading eyes, begging, actually begging him to defy orders. He laughs. “One, it’s suicide to defy orders,” he says. “And two, why would I want to defy an order I want to do anyways?” and he leans down, running his tongue over the woman’s swan like neck, making a shiver run down her. He can taste the salt in her tears and smiles. She is scared now? This is only the beginning of what Valentin will have done to her.
When his pants are at his ankles he turns the woman around, jerking her by the breasts and pushes his penis in between the two mounds. She moans, crying, the tears streaming down her cheeks. He doesn’t care. Those sacks, they’re made for fucking. And though the black lingerie makes the process somewhat less comfortable, Vlad proceeds regardless. As he finds a more proper hold for the mounds he begins to press himself against them more forcibly, the soft meat rubbing at his phallus. He begins to rub himself more rapidly, the woman crying, her bra rubbing at the base of his cock, but he’s loving it.
“Oh yeah bitch,” he whispers. “Oh yeah, you fucking whore...”
He is squeezing both mounds tight, rubbing himself, smacking his testicles against her chest, making her lean back painfully as he breast fucks her. That bronze yellow skin, it makes him warm inside, heating, and he goes faster.

Valentin watches, enjoying the spectacle as the woman struggles, his man rubbing his cock between her two shapely orbs, his breathing becoming labored. It is an enjoyable sight, all the more so for the woman’s struggles.
He smiles, sucking from his cigar slowly as he watches the man’s exertions become stronger, his breathing becoming more labored. The woman is now screaming as Vlad jerks on her breasts in a most painful manner, slapping against her chest with each thrust. It will not be much longer now...

He feels his heat rise, like a fire and he thrust against her, smacking her chest with each blow. The girl is screaming now, tears running down her eyes. He can hear one of the old men behind him yelling “fuck her! Fuck her! Make the bitch cry!” But he doesn’t listen, his heart thundering inside him, his ball sack thick and heavy and getting heavier still with his load.
He jerks on her flesh meat, smacking against her more forcibly, his grunting becoming more strained and labored until with a few final thrust, he cums, spilling himself all over the woman. He lets out a bestial roar as he does so, his cum spraying over her neck and chest, splattering across her in a sickly mess of white fluid. He jerks against her a few more times, making her cry and then grips her hair, jerking her towards him, slapping his cock against her cheek.
“Suck it whore,” he growls. “Suck it!”
She opens her mouth in a quivering response, too afraid to say no but not wishing to comply either. He thrust it into her forcibly, pushing it back to the edge of her throat, making her gag. She is coughing against him and he pushes it further. Two quick thrust and he pulls it out, letting her heave with her breaths, saliva and drool spilling over her chest and making her an even more unsightly mess. He slaps his cock against her forehead, smiling.
“Look at you,” he sneers. “You’re just a dirty whore looking for your next fuck. You dirty slut.”
With this he tosses her back against the ground, her body twisting and curling, a soft hiccuping coming from her parted lips. “Whore,” he whispers, pulling his pants back up. That’s all any of them are. Whores....

*******