Free Cruise by Jurgen von Stuka

corridor, idling checking each door and noting the small printed nametags over each viewing port.
    “Too bad, Meagan, your lovely little mouth will just have to wait,” he said as he passed another.
    When he came to the door with the cast-in numeral six, he stopped and again used a magnetic key to unlock the bolt and swing open the heavy metal door with its twin tiny windows. Brillcart bent over, stuck his head and shoulders through the opening, studied the darkened interior of the area behind the door and then eased his corpulent body into the space behind the door. Once inside, he closed the door, pocketed the key and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then he moved slowly forward, addressing the shadowy form displayed before him.
    “Hello, Karine, dear. How are you getting along down here in your private dungeon?”
    A faint sound met his ears. It wasn’t a voice, it wasn’t a spoken word. It was more of an inhuman bleat like one made by a cow on the way to the slaughterhouse.
    Brillcart reached out and pushed the switch on the nearby stone wall. There was a buzz and then the overhead mercury vapor lights flashed once and came slowly up to full, brilliant intensity, filling the small stone room and the high arched ceiling with devastating blue-white light. The figure before him was now illuminated in full, tormented detail. Every sweat-shiny muscle, every feature of the lush female body stood out in explicit detail.
    Facing Brillcart was the slightly spread backside of a well-proportioned young woman. She stood with feet and knees shackled well apart and her abdomen pressed against a metal crossbar fixture that resembled a hitching post or simple railing. The horizontal rail was adjusted so that it came just below her waist. She was bent over the rail at a ninety-degree angle and chained so that her upper body, bent with her hands stretched out in front of her, was pulled harshly forward and chained to a floor ring. Both globular breasts hung down, stretched towards the floor by chains that led from ringed nipples to rings in the floor. The chains had adjustable turnbuckles for maximizing the tension. Encapsulating her head was yet another heavy, black, leather discipline hood. A long chain from the crown of the hood went upwards and connected to an overhead pulley. From the front of the hood, a dark rubber hose led upwards and disappeared into the vaulted stone ceiling. Another pair of hoses led from her lower body to twin metal containers on the floor. One hose, centered in the middle of her ass crack, was attached to the dark strap that cleaved her ass. The first hose joined another between her legs and disappeared downward to a plastic, 6-liter container. The second hose originated from between her legs and went to the second container.
    “Enjoying your vacation, Karine?” Brillcart intoned as he picked up a long, flexible riding crop from the collection displayed on the opposite wall. Not waiting for an answer, he slashed the beautiful, bound and well displayed buttocks brutally with three cuts, leaving deep, bloody welts in the already scared ass and upper thighs. The girl flinched at each cut, a low gurgling sound coming from inside the hood. Clearly, she was deeply gagged inside the hood and, based on the scars across her back, buttocks and thighs had been through this ghastly routine before. Brillcart, of course, didn’t know that his much sought-after nemesis, Bibi Lynx, had delivered the whipping earlier that same day. Karine shifted her head a fraction of an inch, all that the chain allowed, and twitched her ass cheeks. At each blow, she made the bleating sound, a sound of horror, pain and pleading. Of course, her attacker could not have cared less. He had a fixed agenda and only so much time to spend with her today, so he got right down to business.
    He unfastened the tight leather belt around her slim waist, pulling the crotch strap and hoses away at the same time and letting them fall to