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BDSM Story, The Missionary – Chapter 2

by Dungeon Master

“One more time, tell me your fucking code name!” The police chief’s stone-faced demand was once again met with defiance.

It had been two days now since Peggy McKloskey had been arrested while preaching her mission message to the attentive congregation. Since her enforced incarceration, she’d been stripped, severely spanked and whipped, as well as stringently tortured (clamps on her nipples and pussy lips) for her refusal to divulge the name her captors repeatedly demanded to know. In particular the burly chief had grown increasingly impatient of the woman who’d kicked him in the groin in a futile attempt at escape.

At this very moment, however, the lean, amply endowed damsel was tied face up to a wooden table with her wrists anchored securely to each corner with strong cords. Her legs were raised high and wide with ankles tethered to metal rings that were dangling from the ceiling by a set of strong chains. Her body ached from the continuous punishments inflicted on her, and she felt utterly debased from the fact that these horny men were gaping at her most intimate body part.

Just then she espied the broad, dark face of the chief who was peering down at her from between her legs. “Your such a stupid cunt!” This verbal degradation had grown commonplace along with the physical abuse. They were determined to break her and she was just as determined to keep her silence.

The chief then looked over to one of his deputies. “Begin!”

The tall, dark faced deputy took the chief’s spot and held a short, black whip with six cow hide strands extending from a smooth black handle. Leering down at her wide open pussy, he drew back his arm and snapped all six strands swiftly and precisely onto her left inner thigh. She howled and jerked as angry red stripes immediately appeared. A matching swipe on her right inner thigh produced an identical reaction. Another lash an inch from the initial one landed on her left thigh. The flagellator matched that one with another on her right one. Then methodically, he alternated thighs, each time getting closer and closer to her sensitive juncture.

The chief then reached down and took the ballgag out of her mouth. “Want to tell us now?!”

“NO!” She shrieked through blinding tears.

“Dumb cunt!” He replaced the gag and stepped away.

The man wielding the whip appeared again. A sadistic grin crossed his face as if the burly man was hoping she’d hold out. Then he drew back the menacing looking implement and snapped the lashes devastatingly in the center of her wide open womanhood. The searing sensation showed immediately in her eyes as she jerked wildly and shrieked into the gag. Never in her life had she experienced such agony.

Fearing another blow to her pussy the desperate woman looked up at her captors and mouthed something inaudible into the ball that covered her mouth. The chief removed the gag and she blurted out, “Hellfire!”

The dark face of the chief then smiled sarcastically. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”


Hours later, Peggy McKloskey was lying hogtied on her stomach in the back of a rickety wooden wagon, wearing two skimpy pieces of clothing that barely covered her breasts and crotch. At this moment however, she felt utter indignation and betrayal and this bumpy, turning ride only added to her misery.

After that brutal interrogation they had led her to believe that she would be released. She thought about how great it would be to be back in The States again.

Her elation abruptly changed however when she stepped outside and a blanket was thrown over her head. She resisted strongly but her wrists and ankles were quickly cuffed, a ball gag was shoved into her mouth, a blindfold was put in place and she felt herself being lifted. That’s how she got into her present position.

She heard two sets of feet scamper onto the ground and she could sense their eyes leering at her thinly covered rump. The rope binding her wrists to her ankles was untied, then her ankle cuffs were unhooked. Her wrists remained cuffed as they lifted her out and stood her on the ground.

Thoughts of escape disappeared quickly when she saw how big and muscular these two men were. A leather collar was placed around her neck, then a leash was attached to the ring. One of the men then yanked on the leash, forcing the brown haired, gagged woman to follow him. He led her into a one-story red brick building, which was part of a large compound that was surrounded by a six-foot wooden fence.

Peggy was finally led into an office with maroon carpeting with a large mahogany desk. Behind the desk sat a slender dark skinned woman who appeared to be in her early thirties. Her long braided hair cascaded down to her shoulders and her brown eyes seemed to want to penetrate Peggy’s forehead. Once the native of Connecticut was standing in front of this authoritative looking female, the burly man removed the leash, but left Peggy’s hands bound and mouth gagged.

“Very good, Tom. I’ll take it from here.”

The man nodded while returning a wide smile. “Anytime Ma’am.”

“I’ll see to it that you get your proper reward later,” she said with a lascivious leer that conveyed an obvious meaning.

After Tom left, the lady rose from her desk, which visibly demonstrated her intimidating height. Peggy is no short lady, but this woman towered over her. The lady’s smooth, dark skin seemed as smooth as velvet and there didn’t appear to be an ounce of fat on her. Her well developed breasts were covered in a black leather blouse that showed plenty of cleavage. A matching pair of shorts encased a firm, shapely bottom. Her long sleek, muscular legs appeared to go on forever and her feet were bare.

“Welcome Ms. McCloskey, my name is Coura, but you will always address me as “Ma’am.” She said this while coming around to the front of her desk and facing the spy who had entered the country under the guise of a “Missionary.”

“I will remove your gag so you may answer when I ask you any questions, but first there’s something I must do.”

Then as the tall, wiry woman peered down at the almost naked American, she swiftly brought her right foot upward, catching Peggy directly in the center of her thinly covered crotch. Caught completely off guard, the bound woman cried out painfully as she sunk to her knees, then laid on her side in a fetal position. Writhing in excruciating discomfort she heard the verbal debasement as the African woman glared down at her. “We don’t like fucking spies in our country! What you just got was my personal feeling toward your fucking activity. A missionary? You fucking bitch! You may also consider that to be payback for your assault on the chief!”

Perversely, the authoritative autocrat enjoyed watching the spy-bitch suffer, then finally ordered her to get on her knees. Slowly and painfully Peggy managed to obey the command. But the strong woman gave her no respite as she yanked on Peggy’s hair and forced her head backward. Coura’s face was an inch away. “You should feel lucky that a kick to your cunt was all you got bitch! I could still fucking kill you so don’t fuck with me!” Coura’s eyes blazed. As Peggy looked up into the woman’s eyes she could tell she meant business. The ache in her scalp along with the throbbing pang between her legs were prime reminders not to give this woman any trouble.

Coura then released her grasp of Peggy’s locks. “I will now remove the gag, but you don’t speak unless I ask a question”. The brown haired still suffering, kneeling woman merely nodded.

Coura then sat on the front of her desk and gazed down her. “You’re probably wondering why you are here.” Peggy silently affirmed the statement. “You do realize that we could’ve had you executed or incarcerated for a very long time.” The attentive woman’s face reddened, but kept silent. “We made a plea agreement with your agency.” Peggy frowned. “We would neither kill you, nor send you to prison… but we will train you to be a sex-slave!”

That pronouncement hit the appalled late-twenties brunette like a ton of bricks. “WHAT!?” She blurted out, not caring about what she’d just heard about not speaking unless asked a question. “AN AGREEMENT!?”

The slap across her face came instantly.

Peggy gritted her teeth and her nostrils flared as the strong woman once again held the rebellious lady by the hair. “I AM NOBODY’S FUCKING SEX-SLAVE!”

The hard backhand snapped her head sideways. Coura then spoke into her two-way radio. “I need help in here!”

When Tom and his companion Johannes entered the room, Coura ordered them to drag “this recalcitrant bitch” to the whipping post!


With her wrists bound by strong rope to the high, upright wooden post Peggy screamed when she felt the lashes hit her between the shoulder blades. They’d stripped her bare but left her legs free. She cringed in anticipation of the next stripe. When it came she screamed and pivoted around, trying to avoid another lash to her back. The next slash, however, landed between her breasts, and she turned around to avoid a repetition, only to have the harsh tails strike in the middle of her buttocks.

There was no escape from the steady, rhythmic strokes as she twisted around on the rope. Peggy’s shrieks were met with laughs and taunts as every part of her body was soon covered by red streaks. Seeing a pale skinned young woman whipped was high entertainment for the inhabitants of this compound, which consisted of grounds keepers, cooks and counselors. Coura, who had ordered this woman’s sound chastisement, allowed the flogging to continue until the insubordinate bitch was sagging by her wrists.

Peggy was then dragged off to a tent and tied down.

Three hours later the authoritative woman entered the tent that Peggy would call home. The freshly whipped woman was spreadeagled down to the ground and her stripes and red marks were still visible. Coura towered over her supine form and spoke.

“Now let’s continue with your indoctrination.” Peggy didn’t dare say a word as she glared upward. “As I was saying, you will be trained to be a sex-slave. It’s either that or be shot.”

Coura allowed that pronouncement to sink into the other woman’s brain. Peggy’s face reddened but knew better than to protest.”So what’ll it be? Do you want to face our firing squad?”

Peggy swallowed hard and she managed a respectful, “No Ma’am.”

Coura smiled sarcastically. “I didn’t think so.”

The naked American remained silent.

“Therefore,” the dark faced lady continued, “as I said, we will train you to be a sex-slave.” Peggy’s face reddened at the demeaning thought. “In plain English, your body will be used by anybody anytime for his or her pleasure.”

Coura allowed those debasing words to sink in Peggy’s brain as well. “You will go through four phases of training. Your first phase, which begins tomorrow morning means you will have scheduled spankings and whippings each day. Your spankings will generally be in the morning with your whippings in the evening. You will be instructed on the proper ways of a sex-slave. You also will be expected to perform menial tasks around the compound. Depending on how you progress, you may graduate to phase two, which means your spankings and whippings are every other day. In phase three they are once a week. If you make it to the fourth phase, the scheduled punishments will no longer be required, but by that time you will expected to comply with anybody’s desire for your body.”

Peggy wanted to ask what happens after phase four, but thought better of speaking out of turn.

Coura then looked at Peggy’s body and smiled. “You have a very healthy looking set of tits and your toned legs will make you a favorite here.”

Even though some of her rebellious spirit had been whipped out of her for now, Peggy was clearly repulsed by what she was hearing, but she didn’t dare say anything.

Then Coura’s face turned grave. “By the way, any attempt at escape will result in you being shot immediately!” Peggy gulped again. “Oh, and one more thing, you can be disciplined for any infraction by anyone in the camp. The whipping you just received was a prime example! Any such punishment can be meted out at any time and would be separate from your regular spanking and whipping. Do you understand?”

Peggy felt utter indignation and couldn’t believe this was happening to her, but she had little choice but to give a sincere, “Yes Ma’am,” to the question.

“Your training will begin formally at 6am sharp, when you will be aroused by your trainer.”

Trainer? She thought to herself. Coura read her mind. “That’s right, trainer. That person will be your immediate supervisor and the person who will recommend that you pass to the next phase. So it’s in your best interest to cooperate fully with your trainer!”

The tall dark faced woman then stood directly over Peggy’s face and leered at the trussed up American spy. Straddling her, Coura lowered her own leather covered crotch so her juncture was only a few inches from Peggy’s mouth. Coura then grasped the other woman by the hair holding her face upward. “Look at my cunt, bitch! Very soon you will expected to eat it!” Peggy cringed from the shooting pain in her scalp, but with that savage whipping still fresh on her mind didn’t dare voice any objection.

Coura then left the tent, leaving the still spreadeagled Peggy to wonder about what was just explained to her. How the hell could this be? Why was somebody from her agency not there? Why was she not rescued from these barbarians? She was told that there’d be no trouble when she agreed to this operation. Somebody had betrayed her but she wasn’t sure who.

The Missionary, To Be Continued….