The whip slashed into Helle's thighs once more and she screamed.

'You call me Master!' Prince Akram grinned at her. 'Now did you say something?'

Helle was beginning to wonder if they were breaking her. Fearing another beating she lowered her head. 'Nothing, Ma.Ma.Mast...Master!' She was hesitant, the word, clearly still alien to her.

Prince Akram smiled with satisfaction. 'Better. Not perfect yet, but better.' He stroked the whip across her back. 'Such a simple word, yet so hard to say.' He sniggered. 'But you'll get used to it!'

Helle closed her eyes in defeat. 'Yes M..M..Master!' Suddenly, she was beginning to sound subservient. Damn them! She wouldn't give in.

'Good!' He smiled. 'Now where was I? Ahhh! Yes! We need a name for you.' He sneered. 'But for the moment.' He shrugged again. 'You are just a number!' He grinned at her. 'Number-Seven!' He leaned towards her and she pulled back!

He glared at her, and she trembled, swallowed and closed her eyes, remaining still, rigid almost as Prince Akram began to fondle her breasts. 'Yes! Number-Seven. That will suit you well!'

Helle shuddered and pulled away slightly. Obviously she wasn't quite ready, for she looked up, and shook her head. 'I'll escape!'

Prince Akram smiled evilly. 'Use your intelligence Number-Seven and accept how remote that possibility is!'

Helle was not so sure of herself now. 'But you can't keep me here.' Out of the corner of her eye she saw his whip hand rising. 'M..M..Master!' She added, quickly.

'Whip her!'

The whip slashed into her tortured thighs once more and she screamed. 'Please stop! I can't…. No. Don't…!'

'Slavegirls don't answer back.' Prince Akram grabbed her shoulders and shook her. 'For the last time. No one knows where you are. You are now a slave and I will use your body for my pleasure, as and when I feel the need.' He shrugged slowly. 'In that respect, you will do whatever I ask of you.' He leaned back into his chair. 'And when I have had my fill of you, and my guests no longer find you amusing, I shall sell your sluttish hide to someone else.' He shook her again. 'Now, do you understand?'

Helle stifled her sobbing, clearly knowing the awful truth. She couldn't escape. She really was a slave! She looked up at him, trembling. 'Y..Y..Yes M..M..Master!' Quite suddenly, then, she slumped in front of them and began to sob. Then she raised her head, her sorrowful face full of shock, and puzzlement.. She stuttered. 'P.p.p.p.please! D.d.don't hurt me any more. I'll b.b.be g.g.good!'

Prince Akram prodded her with his switch. 'Offer yourself Number-Seven.'

Panic-stricken, sucking in deep draughts of air, Helle shivered her face full of bewilderment, confusion as she tried to understand. What did he mean?

Prince Akram's switch whistled through the air, to land on her buttocks with a loud crack. Squealing, she obeyed and, almost in a conditioned response, crawled towards Prince Akram.

Hartman flicked her buttocks with his whip again, 'Offer yourself Number-Seven!' he growled.

Helle had no idea what was expected of her, but she knew she couldn't stand any more of that whip, or of that switch either. She would have to improvise. Shaking, and feeling sick with shame, she turned away from Akram, lowered her head to the floor, submissively touching her nose to the carpet, forcing her buttocks upwards, and spreading her knees to expose her genitals, to Prince Akram. 'I offer m..m..my s..s..self t..to y..y..you M..M.M.M.Master!' She quavered, her lips trembling uncontrollably, clearly having to fight with the words, hoping to God he would be satisfied, that she would please him. Anything but suffer the whip again.

Prince Akram grinned. 'She is learning Max.' He smiled.

'Thanks to the whip!' Hartman added.

'Yes!' Prince Akram nodded, standing up. 'Of course. The whip!' He placed his foot on the back of Helle's neck and then grabbed her hair. Then he stooped down to begin a none too gentle, examination of her body, running his hands over her exposed flesh; sliding strong fingers casually into her vagina and over tight little anus. He looked down at her and traced the switch across her back. 'You are going to submit, aren't you Number-Seven?'

Quite suddenly Helle seemed to capitulate, completely. 'Yes Master!' Her head lowered and she had even stopped trembling. She knew what he wanted. She had no options. But she didn't have to like it.

Hartman smiled. 'I've seen this before.' He said. 'A girl being broken; finally accepting, she is a slave.' He coiled his whip and let Helle scent the leather. 'And not just because she feared the whip, but admitting, in the heart of her, she was finished.' He chuckled and pulled her head upwards, to stare at her. 'But you don't fool me slut. I know there's still rebellion inside your slut's heart.' He sneered at her. 'But I'll cleanse it. Have no fear.'

Akram came across to her and tilted her chin upwards. 'You act quite well Number-Seven. Almost convincing!' He shrugged then. 'No matter. Soon you really will submit.' He grinned at her. 'And the sooner the better, for your sake.' He looked at Hartman. 'I think she'll do for the moment, Max.' He stood up. 'Now, I wonder how well she rides.' He leaned forwards, and taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, undid the manacles about Helle's wrists. Then he nodded towards a wooden rack, near the door. 'Fetch me the some riding tack, please Max?'

Hartman nodded, went to the rack and took down leather reins and a small bridle. He also collected a vicious looking crop, and a pair of long, pointed spurs. These he handed to Prince Akram, who slipped the bridle over Helle's head. He dropped the reins. 'No need for these, with hair like hers, eh Max?' Still grinning, he fitted the spurs to his boots and then sat aHartman Helle's back. He filled his left hand with a hank of her hair and kicked into her thighs with his heels. With a sadistic swipe of the quirt, into her flanks, he hissed. 'Forwards, mare!'

Screaming out her agony, Helle began to crawl forwards, wailing, as each blow of Prince Akram's quirt urged more speed from her. Soon she was crawling as fast as she could, being obliged to lift herself off her knees, so she was up on hands and feet. As Prince Akram rode her around the room, like an animal. He was continually cutting into her buttocks and thighs with the crop and digging his spurred heels in to her flesh. 'Faster, mare! Faster!' He roared, slashing at her with the crop. 'Move your hide! Show me how you gallop!'

Bucking and screaming, each time the crop slashed into her flesh, sweating with the effort of carrying Prince Akram about the room, the tormented Helle staggered about, crying, her saliva and tears running, dripping from her nose and mouth, slicking her breasts and thighs. To add to the pain there was the continual banging of the manacles as they swung to and fro, cracking against her breasts and arms. But worse by far was the shame that burned in her mind. She knew she was blushing as each time she went past Hartman; knowing he had a full view of her upraised hips, and her buttocks, and that her private parts were on full display to him.

The sadistic Prince showed her no mercy and six or seven times, he rode her around the room, using savage jerks on her golden locks to guide her, smashing the crop into her backside. Finally, he stopped her by the door and dismounted.

Gasping, and spluttering, Helle collapsed into an exhausted heap as Prince Akram stood up. His face curled into an expression of fierce anger and he laid the crop across her rounded buttocks, wrenching yet another scream from her. 'On your knees slave!' He shouted, leaning over the Helle. 'I'll tell you when you can lie down!'

In mad panic, she scrambled to her knees once more, to remain quiet, but quaking, her pain-wracked breathing filling the room with its noise. Her heart was thudding against her ribcage, she labored for breath, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the feelings of self-loathing and disgust she was experiencing. She should have let them whip her to death rather than behave in such a degrading manner, forced or otherwise. She sagged, knowing that she wasn't brave enough to do that. She now had to live with the humiliation and degradation.

Prince Akram looked at Hartman. 'She runs well.' He ran his hands softly over her trembling body, allowing his fingers to stray into the crease of her buttocks, before straightening up. 'Stay on all fours mare!' He looked down at the shaking Helle. 'You could make a good pony-slave.' He smiled cruelly and bent, once more running his hands over her abused flesh. 'A few weeks in front of a trotting-gig will bring you round to the right way of thinking.' He grinned. 'But for now, you will be locked away. He grinned at her. 'You will be allowed to rest. Tomorrow is another day.'

Helle felt her heart sink at the dread his words imbued in her. What horrors lay in store?

Akram ignored her altogether and turned to Hartman. 'Tomorrow she can be branded and pierced for the usual rings.' He paused. 'After that, give her a spell in the pony-arena. That should bring her around.' He sneered at Helle. As she gaped, horror stricken at what he had just said. She tried to find her voice but she couldn't as Akram went on. 'Before long, you will be begging to see me!' He grinned. 'So, it's up to you! I'll see you again, when you really are ready to submit!' He stood up, and leaned over her trembling form and pulled her head upwards by her hair. 'You know by now, that Max is an expert with the whip. If you make it necessary, he can cut you to the bone.' He shook Helle's head. 'On the other hand, he can subject you to the most exquisite agony, without leaving a mark on your hide.' He caressed Helle's right flank. 'Such a pretty hide, and one from which I shall make much profit.' He grinned evilly, as he said. 'I wonder if you regret what you did to my noble Father now?' he shrugged. 'No matter. You are nothing. What you feel or think is of no importance.' He squeezed her throat again, and then pushed her away from him. 'Understand slut!'

Helle nodded, panic widening her eyes as she glanced at the quirt. Shaking with her fear, she remained on all fours before Prince Akram; crying quietly. There was another slash of Prince Akram's whip into her shoulders and, squealing, she cowered down, as he stalked from the room.

Hartman nudged Helle with his toe. 'We'll soon have you fit slave.' He chuckled and, gave her another savage slash with the dog-whip, before bending over her. In moments, he had removed the leather tack and had re-shackled her wrists to her collar. Then he clipped a length of chain to the steel collar. He pulled savagely on the chain. 'Come on then girl. We've work to do. Move that pretty little backside of yours!'

Still panting from her exertions, Helle bowed her head and allowed Hartman to lead her from the room.

They didn't go far, and within a few yards, Hartman snarled at her. 'Halt and face left.'

Helle obeyed, mute, her head lowered, realizing she was defeated. She had to accept, she was going to find it difficult to get away from these maniacs, but she would.

Then she saw the iron grating at her feet, and her nose wrinkled as the smells of disinfectant and stale urine rose from the grille.

Hartman prodded with the whip, pushing her back a little as he stooped and grasped the large ring on the edge of the grating.

The suffocating stench rose like an invisible cloud and Helle coughed, her eyes watering as the fumes seared her lungs and eyes.

The grating crashed back with a clang, and He stepped across the dark, forbidding hole, to push her against the wall.

He grinned in her face and then took a hypodermic from his pocket. 'Stand still slut.' He said

Helle eyes opened wide in fear as she saw him get the needle ready, filling it from a phial. The satisfied he just nodded to her. 'Lift your arm slut.'

'Please… No.'

He grabbed her arm angrily. 'Move!' He said. 'You know by now. When I tell you, you move.' He gripped her upper arm tightly and then almost carelessly jabbed the needle into her deltoid muscle and shot her full of the drug.

Immediately she felt woozy, and there was a strange humming in her ears. But she didn't pass out. She stood there swaying, realizing that as the drug took effect it was more of the same drug they had used on her after she had run from the car; just enough to make her compliant. '

Hartman grinned at her as he patted her face gently. 'All sleepy eh?'

She nodded. 'Yes Master.' She heard herself say that word, yet she didn't question herself why. She just knew she had to.

He chuckled. 'Surprising what a drop of this stuff will do.' He pulled her towards the open pit, 'Right my pretty in you go.'

He slapped her rump hard and she screamed out as she felt herself falling.

She seemed to be floating and she felt very little as she hit the pile of damp, moldy straw at the bottom of the pit. Then half-asleep she heard the grating being slammed back into place. There was enough time to register that she was well and truly captive in this place. Then she slept, for now completely oblivious, of her misery.