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The Seller, The Buyer, The Girl & Her Master
Young Evie is a prisoner in a detention center for delinquent girls in Eastern Europe-but not for long! A rare prize among the many nubile waifs, she's traded for cash, part of a scheme for smuggling innocent girls out of Europe and into a web of sexual service. She's forced to grow up fast, trapped in a world where her sole purpose is learning to please the sexual appetites of the men who own her. Though Evie rebels, she can't stop her unleashed lust, or her passion for masochistic pleasure.
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Pink Flamingo Publications
May 29, 2003
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Adobe DRM EPUB
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Excerpt from The Seller, The Buyer, The Girl & Her Master by Lizbeth Dusseau
The evening adjourns to the casual elegance of the ranch house, returning to its previous, civilized state of etiquette--as if there were no whipping posts or archaic punishment rituals. Evie, clothed again in the plain black dress, serves coffee, tea, and a rich chocolate layer caked encrusted with pecans and topped with smooth whipped cream. Observant, but not part of the festivities, Jacob stands on the sidelines, nursing his resentment with a stoic gaze no one will ever see beyond.
With the very last course of this remarkably fine meal about to proceed, Evie, unwittingly collects desserts plates and smiles as she refreshes the coffee, or hands a guest another bottle of German beer.
Jacob no longer expects to run the game. That is squarely in his mentor's corner. He doesn't give it another thought, except to let his anger gestate, waiting for the appropriate time to show its force.
When the host of the evening, interrupts his guests again, it is with the same fixed eye on the serving girl.
"Now that we've established the fact of your crime, I think it's time to show us all exactly how you managed to 'get off,'" he uses this vernacular disdainfully, "with so many things intended to deter that possibility."
Evie stands in the center of the room with an empty cup and saucer in her hand. Realizing she's being spoken to, she stops, stands up straight and stares the man in the eye, trying as she does to determine exactly what he's said. Sometimes her command of formal English fails her.
"Sir?" she finally thinks to clarify his thoughts with the question.
"Having trouble understanding?" he asks.
"I think so," she says, cautiously. At her side, her free palm opens wide, then she nervously clutches the black skirt and twists it in her fingers.
"Well then, let me describe this very clearly," he goes on. "You'll put that coffee cup on the table, takes us to your room in the cellar and show us exactly how you managed to pleasure yourself the past two nights."
Her face turns pale with shock before she blushes... the rosy color rising from her chest, crawling up her neck, to her ears and cheeks.
"You're having trouble understanding now?" he wonders aloud when she doesn't move. The sadistic trill delivering his message arouses him.
"No, sir," she replies quite readily.
Fighting him would be useless, everyone knows this including Evie. Although, she momentarily turns to the side of the room where the only other soul she really knows in this place stands with his eyes indifferently focused her way. He gives her no assistance. Does she expect that? Is there already some bond forming between the two? Does she think he'll give her comfort?
Jacob bows his head, as though bowing out of the scene altogether. The master is unaware that he's disgruntled, that Evie's training is not going according to the wishes of his protégé. But no one will see the truth in his stoic expression. In reply to her vaguely pleading look, Evie receives another cold shot of apathy. The master sees her spirit sag; she is weary and afraid.
"Jacob take her to the cellar," he speaks curtly, and the two both jerk, awakened by the request.
Jacob moves first, striding forward, pushing Evie between chairs to the back of the house and toward the cellar door. A scattering of guests follow them out--the men and two interested ladies, who sport lurid gleams in their heavily made-up eyes.
As they descend the steps, they find the cellar is as dark as the night outside. Jacob lights the lanterns, and leads the party through a short maze to Evie's cell.
"You know what he wants?" Jacob asks the girl.
"He wants me to masturbate?"
"Do exactly what you did last night and the night before."
"I remove my clothes?" she acts confused, as if she can't believe what she has to do.
"What? You suddenly dumb as a stump, or are you just stalling?"
"No, sir, I was just unclear," she attempts to explain.
"The man was very specific. Take off your clothes and show them how you do it." He pauses to see her expression clear. "Although, I suppose I should tie your hands to make it more realistic."
Fidgeting nervously, she unbuttons the dress to remove it. Her eyes dart about the tiny room as if she's searching for ways out of this horrid exhibition. There are none. Mocking faces appear outside her cell, peering inside, lechers all of them, waiting for her to 'get them off' with her tawdry show.
Once she has the dress removed, the corset is next, unlaced by Jacob and torn from her body, left in a heap beside the bed. He dismisses the stockings--they might add to the allure--and binds her wrists as he has the last two nights. Stepping back, he waits.
Evie falters. She looks them in the eye and blushes again, as a layer of sweat makes her body glow in the pale light. The only way to survive is to do the deed for them, to go inside, turn off their eyes by closing hers, and pretend it is the middle of the night and she's alone. Does she have it in her?
She lays on the bed, breathing to relax, and finally twists her body into position, one foot on the floor, the other bent and on the bed. Her naked crotch caresses the side of the bed, slipping from the mattress to the metal frame, back and forth, teasingly. Her bottom bobs before them, garishly exposing her moist privates for their amusement. Despite their salacious grins, her body responds, as a swell of orgasmic sensation shoots savagely through her. She lets the bed become her lover as it has twice before. The hard, the soft, the scratchy surfaces arouse her pussy's longings, letting her drag from deep within the same fantastic response that's occurred before. In time, her erratic fucking movements become rhythmic. Her belly grinds within, spasming hard. She can't stop herself for any reason. She slams herself to the rail and grovels as it massages her swollen clit. Seconds later, she groans, "Oh, my gaaaaaaaaaawdd," circling her groin over the one lovely spot. Then there is that awesome jolt of ending, the one that seems to never end, the one that more stimulation expands, that comes in brilliant surges, passionate like a perfectly phrased symphony. Crescendo, crescendo, until the crescendo finally reaches its peak with its last powerful swell, and then fades away.
No one stops her this time. She falls on her belly, hands still tied to the rail, finished.
"Evie," she hears Jacob's voice, sharply waking her. "Up, face your audience." Her hands have been untied. She can kneel before them, looking up at them embarrassed. Perhaps she expects a round of cocks and cunts pushed into her mouth, but no zippers fly, or skirts get raised. They can mock her with their eyes and then leave her to herself, humbled, crushed by what they know about her.
Long after the last guest leaves, the house is quiet except for the occasional scurrying mouse, except for the natural creaks and groans, the sound of wind reeling through the trees outside. The master has dismissed his protégé, giving him a good report of the girl's performance, sending him to the stables where he'll find the new ones waiting for their first taste of training. The younger man understands the truth, understands that Evie will be violated before the night's out. But not by him. This was supposed to be his duty, his right and his pleasure. But he's been eclipsed by seniority he can't dispute.