The people of Russia knew him by many names. The Mad Monk, some called him. A Holy Fool, others called him. But the young women of St. Petersburg knew him by another name: “Master.” That was the name they spoke late at night, when they were face down on a dirty mattress, or pressed up against a wall somewhere in the shadows of the street.
Rasputin had his fill of women, though no one was quite sure how.
To look upon him was to be repulsed. This man was not attractive. He had a dark face, his eyes shadowed and cruel. His hair was limp and greasy, a testament to his infrequent bathing. His rotting teeth and rancid breath did not inspire passion, and his body reeked like a goat. There was no earthly reason why this man should draw women to him like honey draws flies. Yet he did. He fucked with wild abandon, and no one ever seemed to refuse his advances.
There were whispers among the people that Rasputin possessed supernatural powers. That he could control minds and bend the will of the women he took to bed. Perhaps these powers were a gift from God. Perhaps they were a gift from the Devil. No one knew for sure.
Katya had felt his powers first-hand. A maid in the Tsar’s household, she had been cleaning late one night when she felt a presence behind her. She turned and…nothing. Everything went fuzzy. When she became aware again, she was standing in a hall gagged and bound, naked but for her panties.
Rasputin’s whores were numerous. Often they were young; pretty things that laboured as maids or cooks in the Tsar’s household. Sometimes they were older, and of a higher class. A few were actual whores, procured in the streets and alleyways of St. Petersburg. The women varied, though most had one thing in common. All had begged him to take them.
All those who knew Rasputin were confused by his ability to fuck such a collection of women. He was not an attractive man. They supposed the appeal came from his political connections to the royal family or his skills between the sheets. After all, the women all left his bed singing praise of his skills and his holiness. But there was something that was just so hard to believe about that. His eyes were so cruel, his hair so greasy, his manner so hard. Why would women want a man like him?
What no one knew was that the women were not willing at all. Rasputin was like a vampire, stalking his prey and taking them whenever it suited him. He enjoyed the unwillingness; their little cries made his dick so much harder.
He had grabbed this woman during a ball that was being held for the Tsar’s nephew. She was easy prey, standing by herself near the window. It was a simple matter for him to creep up outside the window and take her.
She had put up a valiant struggle; her dress had ripped in the fight, exposing her breasts. But Rasputin had won in the end. He always did. This woman had bit him before he managed to get the gag in. Oh, she would pay for that.
Her breasts were soft… luscious… inviting. He would get great joy from biting them. He sank his teeth into her warm skin; he felt her tense underneath him as the pain made her stiffen. Her cries of pain and her muted pleas to stop took him right to the edge of cumming. He held off, though. He had plans for this little bitch.
“Have you ever had your ass fucked, woman?” he asked.
She shrieked and started thrashing around.
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“Noooo! Please, I did everything you wanted!” Amelyth cried as the Romans began lifting the cross. The cum of a dozen Romans was flowing out her red, stretched out pussy and her hair was crusty from the dried semen of a hundred Romans. She was to be the totem of the Raptio festival, and her freshly violated body would hang in the center of the arena until every man in the city had drained his balls into or onto one of the dozens of available slave girls.
“Please, let me suck your beautiful Roman cock! PLEASE! HELP ME!” Norona sobbed as the brutal Roman in front of her ran the vicious cane across her soft, heaving breasts. “Please don’t hit me with that!”
“The whores of Germania, gentlemen. As you can see they’re all inferior specimens of womanhood.” The Princeps said.
Hours earlier these unfortunate women had been the taken by an entire Roman Century, 100 men still covered in blood from slaughtering their husbands in battle. There was something about shedding blood that made the Roman’s libido rage out of control, and they took these women viciously. Making sure they had no pleasure in it, even going so far as to wipe their cum out of the holes so that they wouldn’t be lubricated. And the rough hemp cloth they used only made their bruised, swollen labia even more raw and sensitive.
Now they were out here, a warning to the other tribes of Germania. Well at least until the next patrol came by, who undoubtedly take them down to empty their own balls into the broken women…
Sometimes captured women were exhibited on a special wooden frame on wheels, four at a time. The frame was appreciated by the largely drunken crowd because from wherever you sat in the Coliseum you got a good view of at least one naked slave. The frame was painful for all three girls, but for the girl on the front it was especially painful…
The unfortunate woman was tied so that her body was arched backwards, pushing her cunt out. Just below her cunt was a pole into which sharp pointed nails had been driven. The girl struggled against cramp and soon had difficulty holding her vagina above the nails. On a signal from the Emperor, the flogging began.
The flogging was performed with long swishy sticks. There were no rules about which part of the body should be punished because all parts were punished…
From time to time an official fingered the girls’ cunts and if he found one that was especially wet and juicy, he announced it to the crowd. The crowd would choose which of the girls would be penetrated at the end of the flogging sessions.
The girl on the nails was usually a feisty warrior from some Gallic tribe. When the flogging stopped for the other girls, it continued for her. At least two men worked on her breasts with cats o’nine-tails.
With the new influx of slaves after the Gallic War, whorehouses found it easier to change girls more frequently. It was one of the worst fates for captured women. They knew that they would be used day and night because new women were always the most popular in brothels.
Antonius was a brothel owner and an experienced slave trainer. He wanted to work fast this time to get the girls into his brothel as soon as possible.
He subjected them to merciless sessions of physical abuse, so intense that he had to let the girls rest for a few minutes from time to time because he was afraid of doing them permanent damage.
He watched as one of the girls tried to keep her vagina off the sharp edge of a marble block. He brought his riding crop down from time to time with no warning, to ensure that the girl would move and feel the sharp edge of her clitoris.
“Say, I’m a slut!” he ordered.
“I’m a slut! I’m a slut! Don’t hit me please! Take me off here! I’ll do everything you say!”
“No apology will redeem your filthy soul. No confession will save you… We will pound you back to Hell, from whence all women were spawned. Let’s see what a dent in the earth you can make now, slut!”
“You wanna come in?”
“Yes… yes please.”
“Are you going to be a good girl?”
“Yes. I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want…Please.”
Praetor Carvonus ran his fingers along the red welts blooming on his Dacian slave’s tiny tits, pinching and scratching them to make the girl’s tiny frame shudder on the cross. Decebalus’s Dacian army had been utterly crushed, and the fine women they had captured were now the spoils of war.
A few feet away a gorgeous blonde woman was struggling to walk as she was forced to hold the heavy wooden pole across her slender shoulders and two centurions whipped at her bare ass.
“Faster honey, I want you lathered up like a horse when I bust your cunt with my cock!” One of the centurions laughed.
“Please, let me fuck you now! I can’t hold this! PLEASE!” She whimpered.
Carvonus smiled, and forced two fingers into his slave’s dry cunt, brutally forcing open her reluctant hole.
“Ngggghhh!” She whined.
The Roman expertly struck her right across her puffy red nipples, driving them back into her chest like hammered nails and watching them rebound, swelling with welts.
The two Romans began alternating their strokes, first across her abused cunt, then across her tits and back and forth it went. Never giving her time to recover, striking her while she was still screaming from the earlier blow. Soon her tits and pussy were completely covered in welts.
“Open up whore, it’s time to swallow some Roman cock. My friend is going to keep whipping your filthy slit until I cum, and if you dare bite me, I’ll have him burn off your clit. Understand?”
The soldier didn’t even wait for her to reply, instead shoving himself balls deep in her throat and groaning with pleasure as she screamed around his cock…
There were three slaves’ revolts. The most famous was led by Spartacus in the 70’s BC. The slaves’ army proved difficult to defeat. Many male slaves were physically strong, and their army was well-organized. They fought Rome for over a year, but were finally defeated. 6,000 slaves were crucified along the Appian Way that led to Rome…
Not all the captured slaves were crucified to death. Some of the women, especially the pretty ones, were displayed on scaffolding to which they were tied, not nailed. They were stripped naked so that they could be flogged and abused more easily.
As the macabre line of crosses approached Rome, more and more Roman citizens came to watch the spectacle, and the soldiers soon saw the opportunity to make money out of their naked booty.
Aemelia and Juliana stood fascinated, unconsciously licking their lips at the sight of the three slaves.
“They’re lovely,” said Aemelia.
The officer nodded. “My men will confirm that! They’ve been fucking the asses off these bitches for two weeks now!”
“NOOOOO, MASTER, NOOOOOOOOOO!!! PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE!!! YOU’RE HURTING ME! AAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
“UGH! Take that, bitch, right up your slave’s cunt! And that! UGH! And that! UGH! Does it hurt if I squeeze your tits? Does it, bitch?”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH!!! YES, MASTER, IT HURTS!”
Sabinus Regulus had fought in the final battle against Spartacus, in which the Roman army had defeated his army of 60,000 men. One tenth of the prisoners were selected to be crucified along the 10-mile road that led from Capua to Rome. The soldiers had been allowed to choose female prisoners and tie them to the scaffolds too, for whatever use they wished…
Sabinus had selected a blonde with lovely firm breasts and a high, prominent vulva that got to him immediately he saw it. He ordered her to stand with her legs apart and he inserted the edge of his sword between her cunt lips, carefully separating the lips to reveal her clitoris… He liked the way she trembled when he did it, and he had always liked blonde cunts, so he chose her.
He soon discovered something else he liked about her. She was very shy. When he asked her why she was slow to show him her cunt, she explained that she had never been a slave. She was from a small tribe that had joined Spartacus after one of his victories against the Romans. The tribe had always hated Rome for its taxes and bullying and the way it took away the women…
Sabinus discussed this with his companions and they advised him to start training the girl straight away. He took their advice. He dragged her to the end of the line of crucifixions, which was now nearing Rome, and he tied her to one of the scaffolds for displaying female prisoners.
Predondo returns with the dirty, disgusting, filthy, and unbearably arousing and incredible “punished in paradise” series with this third episode in the exciting escapade!! Poor brooke and tisha will suffer the worst, for sick, sadistic women have no mercy and no remorse for helplessly bound and spoiled beauties!
“I enjoy watching tears pouring out of your eyes, bitch. I love to make girls cry, especially young, thin, attractive girls who think they are superior to men. What does your ass tell you about who is superior now, whore?”
“It feels like he is peeling the skin off my poor bottom. I could never have believed whipping could hurt so bad… I wish I had never worn tight clothes in my life… Maybe this sick bastard would not have picked me. Fuck! Help!”
“You have never been like this for a man before, have you, cunt! Totally exposed, entirely helpless, completely at his mercy! I bet that you have never even tasted cum, have you? Tease that you are, I bet you made men spurt their goo into your hand. Well, now you are with a man who doesn’t allow a slut to set the limits, a real man who does with sluts what his dick wants done… and all men, in their hearts, want to punish women.”
“Now I’ve got some nice, warm tit flesh and ass flesh to play with!”
Olivia felt Sanchez grab on to the burning skin of one of her big breasts. Even a touch would have been painful, but Sanchez squeezed his fingers into her skin – and he had just beaten her boobs so hard.
Sanchez palmed the sore flesh of Madison’s bottom, and rested his large thumb comfortably between the lips of her pussy as if he owned it. As bad as it was to have the man look at her naked, spread puss, it was ten times worse to feel him touching it.
“Oh, yes! Look at this fuck flesh, all for me and all mine! I OWN you two cunts. I own that smooth skin of yours, I own those precious, high-riding titties of yours, I own your firm thighs, and I own your round asses.
“I own your obedience! I own your pain, your fears, your screams, your tears.”
At any given time there are thousands of cargo ships crossing the world’s oceans, delivering cars, electronics, food and countless other commodities. One ship, however, carries a very different kind of cargo: sex slaves. Affectionately known as the Slave Barge to its crew, the ship looks like any other cargo vessel on the outside, but on the inside it’s a paradise for the crew…and a nightmare for the cargo it carries. The holds of the Slave Barge are a series of prison cells and dungeons, all designed to quickly break and train the new girls that come aboard.
The girls that have the misfortune of ending up on this god forsaken ship start out as beautiful, independent and strong young women. But once they descend into the bowels of the Slave Barge…
They’re just Cargo.
Betty was so cold she could no long feel the biting arctic wind sweeping across her bare tits. A few hours ago she’d been a normal college student going to her first off-campus party in the warehouse district. That’s when this nightmare had started, when she’d been grabbed by a pair of sailors and locked away in one of the abandoned warehouses.
“Ughhh, for such a fat-titted cow you sure have a tight pussy!” Her captor had taunted her as he rammed his cockmeat in her dry, resisting vagina.
“Flip her over, I want to take her ass!” The other sailor said.
“NNIIEEARRGGHHH! PLEASE! TAKE IT OUTTTTT!” She’d screamed as the dry fucking of their cocks began stretching and tearing her delicate holes. Of course her screaming only made them fuck her harder, fucking her in a brutal rhythm that never gave either hole a chance to adjust to the massive invaders tearing them open.
It hurts so much! This is the worst, worse than the strap on my butt! He is a sadistic animal and my poor breasts are so sensitive.
“You fat titted cow! How do you like the feel of a little leather on your funbags, huh? Feel good, whore? Some men will allow you to stick those big titties in their faces without… consequences. I think a cock teasing bitch who is as proud of her jugs as you are needs to be taught a lesson. I like teaching this lesson.
No, please, no! Stop hitting me! So sick, so…
“Aaaiigh! Ooaahh, owwgh!”
“Damn, your rack looks even more attractive with red lines whipped all over it. Makes my dick kind of thrum to look at your welted boobs bouncing all around when my whip strikes them. I ought to thank you for catching my attention by showing off those beauties in the gym, slut. Without that, your tits would not suffering in my cellar right now.”
With her ass on fire, Madison lay in bondage, twisted like a pretzel, staring up into her friend Olivia’s crotch. She could never have imagined when she was putting up posters to help find Olivi, that hours later she would be tied up and whipped so that some sick man could force her into lesbian sex.
How can this fucking be happening? It can’t be!
Then the whip sliced through the air of the cellar that had become a torture chamber for naked women. It snapped across the girl’s firm, round bottom as she squirmed in her leather cuffs.
No! No! No!
“Bitches, my arms are getting tired… not!
“When I was in prison for rape, I spent hours every day lifting weights. I was fantasizing about and preparing for the day I would get out of prison to whip and rape stuck up cunts like you, only harder than I had ever done before. With my strength, I could cut the flesh of your butt into shreds… but I won’t. Ask blondie… there’s other things I like to do with a pretty girl’s ass!