Free Kate and Julia: Abducted in India by Lindsey Brooks

down her taut belly to the plump love-mound above her parted thighs. His finger circled through the little tuft of hair he had left there.
    Kate jerked back from the tickle of it and gasped in pain as her bottom met his thighs. He laughed softly and pressed a finger between the oily slickness bathing the lips of her sex. Kate jerked again, feeling the shackles bite into her skin at wrists and ankles, as she pulled away as far as the taut chins would allow. It was not enough to stop his finger pushing into her pussy. She gave a horrified squeak as it circled her entrance, sending unwanted little thrills through its tender tissues.
    “Still good and damp,” Ross observed, withdrawing and moving to her right side. She turned her head and saw her nude body in the mirror with her breasts thrusting out, humiliatingly hard-nippled, from her chest.
    He reached into his trouser pocket and Kate stared in shock as he produced a long, black, phallic object. “You’ll like this better than a hairbrush handle,” he promised.
    “No! Oh, no!” Kate protested as he pressed the rounded tip of the phallus against her moist pussy-lips. She squirmed, tugging at her shackles as she strained to escape the frightening contact. The sudden pressure of Ross’s other hand on her scorching bottom made her hips jerk forward, and the hard, black length slipped easily into her sheath. A ripple of excitement teased its quivering walls.
    “Ooh!” Kate could not stifle her surprised cry, nor deny to herself that it also held a note of pleasure. “It’s not right,” she murmured even more weakly than before, and began to pant.
    Ross pushed the phallus deeper. “Right, little miss, you clamp down around that. You’re to keep it inside you until I say otherwise, understand?”
    “No, I won’t!” Kate wailed, horror-stricken by her pussy’s response to the hard, horrid thing filling it. It was much larger than her hairbrush’s handle, much larger than anything she had felt there before.
    She strained to expel it. It slid easily over the slick membranes of her sheath and clattered to the floor at her feet.
    Ross made an annoyed sound and picked it up, pulling the whip from his belt. As Kate sucked in an anxious breath, he flicked the leather backhanded across her lower abdomen. It stung like a nettle.
    “Bad girl.” He held up the whip before her wide eyes. It was about two feet long, a narrow strap split into twin tails for the last third of its length. It seemed less menacing than the rigid cane Jefferson had used to flog her but she had just discovered it could still hurt.
    “Now see,” Ross continued, “that could have been on your bum where it would have stung a lot worse. Let’s try again.” He pushed the phallus easily back into her sex despite Kate’s frantic twisting.
    Immediately, she forced it out. The whip flicked out, stinging the outer curve of her right teat.
    Ross lifted the phallus. “One more try then you’ll get another lesson.”
    Frightened though she was, Kate let the phallus slip from her sex for a third time. She did not want the awful thick length inside her, not least because she feared the pleasure she knew it would create. She stared back at Ross’s look of displeasure. She even dared hope he had given up when he left the room with a furrow in his brow. Fresh determination rose inside her. She was not going to surrender and let him make her a slave. Her gut twisted violently when he returned.
    “Back or front?” he demanded, bending the long, thin switch he was holding in his calloused paws. “You choose.”
    “No!” Kate cried, suddenly realising what she had brought upon herself.
    “It had better be front then.” Ross lashed the whippy rod across the firm flesh of her thighs.
    With a high-pitched yelp, Kate writhed in her shackles as its fiery scorch seared her skin. Even before she had stopped he had slid the hard phallus back into her pussy.
    “Now don’t disappoint me, little miss. If I see