The Price of Love

Chapter Sixteen – The Whore in Red. (Edited by Curtis. Thank you.)

"Quickly, Mistress Layla needs you now!" Rose rushed into Elise's bedroom and threw a silky red dress down on the bed. Elise looked at Rose then put her magazine down.

"Alright, I'll bathe immediately."

"No, no! There's no time for that," Rose waved franticly at the dress. "Put it on!"

"Alright," Elise picked it up and slipped it over her head. "But, please, Rose, what's so urgent?"

Rose impatiently turned Elise around and pulled her zipper up. "Mistress Layla needs you. The shoes — you mustn't forget the shoes."

She hurried over to the wardrobe and took out a pair of red patent stilettos. Elise slipped them on, and then began preening her hair with her hands.

"No, no, there's no time! Come," she said, grabbing Elise by the hand and hurriedly pulling her out of the room and down the stairs. Elise felt confused and unsure — what could possibly be so urgent?

As they approached the dungeon, loud heaving sobs of a woman in distress could be heard. Rose opened the heavy door and pushed Elise forward. Through the dim lighting Layla could be seen dressed in black from head to toe sitting on a large leather chair. To one side of her, placed on a small table, a photo album lay opened. The pages, however, were too far away for Elise to see the pictures clearly.

"So there you are — you disgusting little whore!" Layla almost spat the words through her tears. "Get over here now!"

Feeling totally confused, but not wanting to exacerbate the situation, Elise hurried over to her Mistress and dropped down onto her knees without saying a word. Layla grabbed her crop from the dresser. Standing up, she slashed it across the poor girl's bare breasts. Elise cried out, in fear as much as pain. Terrified, tears began to form and then trickled down her cheeks as the extent of Layla's rage became clear.

"Spread your legs! That's so easy for a slut to do!"

Immediately Elise pushed her knees further apart, as far as her tight fitting dress would allow. Not, however, wide enough to satisfy Layla. Immediately, she grabbed the neckline and, with one angry wrench, ripped it down to the waist exposing breasts marked with a fine crimson line just above the nipples.

"There, look at them! How can any man resist a whore's tits?" Layla's face contorted and she drew the crop high, hitting it down across the girl's breasts again and again, each time a swift whoosh followed by a sharp slap. Biting down on her lower lip, Elise took her pain with agonising determination. However, within a short time, it all became too much to bear. She threw herself forward, burying her face between Layla's boots. Her shiny red dress fell around her on the floor as she pleaded, "Please, Mistress, no more!"

Layla, however, was in no mood for mercy. "No more?" she bellowed. "That's not what little whores are say. Oh, no, you always want more! You want it! You just had to have my Edward, too, didn't you?"

Elise's mind raced; she tried to think. 'Edward?' She knew a lot of men, but none by that name.

"Greedy little whores — all of you!" Layla shrieked. Again and again she lashed at Elise's shoulders, back and ass, covering her in a cris-cross of angry red welts. Each time Elise jerked and writhed about on the floor, desperately trying to understand what she had done wrong.

"No more! Please, stop…" Elise's pleas were now muffled as she buried her face in her arms and her words morphed into uncontrollable sobs.

"What's the matter?" Layla questioned her as she used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears from her own cheeks. "You think you don't have to pay for being a whore? Is that it? Oh, yes, you'll pay for it alright!" Layla hadn't finished. Oh no, not at all. Sneering, she leaned down to tear away at what little fabric still covered Elise's body. Then, holding the crop between the girl's legs, she slapped at her soft and smooth cunt with a couple of vicious and well-aimed strikes. Elise cried out, and her body shook before she collapsed helplessly on the floor; tears of despair now flowed freely as she realized her impossible situation. Layla then grabbed the other end of the crop and, leaning down, rammed the handle up inside the poor girl's wet vagina. That had been totally unexpected. A howling cry of overwhelming fear and panic broke the sound of the powerless Elise's tears.

"Well, that's what you want isn't it, whore? You don't care, do you? You just want to be fucked!" Leaving the crop embedded, Layla grabbed Elise by her hair and dragged her towards a low wooden bench. Forcing her up on to it, face downwards, with her head at one end and her ass hanging over the other. "I'm going to fill every one of your filthy holes, slut! But first…"

Elise heard the clinking of metal. Layla grabbed hold of the girl's right hand. Something cold touched against the warmth of her wrists, and she realised her hands were being cuffed behind her as she lay there. Closing her eyes, Elise hoped that soon she would wake up from this terrible nightmare. Instead, she felt something being pressed against her mouth. Immediately, she blinked and saw what appeared to be a large rubber cock – much too large. Instinctively, she pursed her lips to prevent it from entering. Layla then pinched her nose, and within minutes Elise had no choice but to open her mouth and allowed the huge rubber phallus inside. Elise gagged and coughed as Layla pushed it hard up against the back of her throat before slipping the strap around her head. She couldn't spit the damned thing out, and she couldn't breath! Elise began to panic, writhed about in a desperate struggle to free herself, but to no avail. Thankfully, she soon realised that she could still inhale, although with much difficulty, though her nose. She sniffed and tried not to cry — if she cried then her nasal passages would become blocked, and she would quite simply suffocate on her own mucous.

"And now something for your ass and cunt," she heard Layla say. Elise felt the crop being wrenched from inside her, allowing for a brief reprieve. Then, something smooth and hard pressed against her anus. Something large, she suspected, especially when Layla began forcing it inside. Her immediate reaction was to try to expel it. "Don't you even try to push the fucking thing out, you little whore! It stays until I'm ready to take it out," Layla warned her, slapping Elise's ass again with her crop, as if to reinforce her words.

Elise tried to speak — to beg, but her words were nothing more than muffled cries. Now another hard and cold object invaded her wet cunt. In and out, penetrating her, not with lust, but with a power of anger and rage. A force that within a short time made her cunt feel raw and tender as her body yielded to the relentless attack. Previously, Elise felt there had been a fine line between her pleasure and pain—an amazing and erotic indecision in her head pulling her this way and then that. It had been a delicate balance that could so easily tip either way, but not this time. Her world began to spiral into darkness.

**************

The following day, Rose came into the girl's room as she usually did, only this time without her breakfast.

"Mistress Layla would like to see you in her bed chamber now," she said, drawing the curtains back as she did every morning.

Elise squinted as the sunlight streamed in. She sat up and then closed her eyes and groaned. Even the slightest movement made her wince. She slipped her legs over the side of the bed and gingerly stood up. Her whole body felt tender and sore from the previous evening's events. She groaned again. Layla was the last person she wanted to see.

"Right now," Rose told her, becoming impatient.

"You mean like this?" Elise held out the front of her nightgown. It was long, pale pink, and gathered to a lacy white yoke. She hadn't worn anything like it since she was a child, yet now, living at Layla's house, she always wore it to sleep in. Like many odd rituals at Layla's house she never bothered to question it.

"Yes, right now. Get moving, girl!"

Rubbing her cheeks, she padded barefoot out of her room and down the hallway to Layla's room—one foot after the other as if in some kind of hypnotic trance. It would be useless to resist — Elise knew that. She had never been invited into Layla's room before and felt unsure of what to expect. She only hoped Layla would be in a more congenial mood than the previous night. The door was ajar, so cautiously pushed it open. She hesitated for moment, then entered.

Layla, draped in a long purple satin robe, sat brushing her long dark hair in front of her dressing table mirror. "Oh, there you are, precious."

'Precious?' Elise queried silently, as she quietly walked over to Layla to kneel at her side.

Layla put her brush down and turned to Elise, taking the girl's chin in her hand and gently turning her face one way and then the other. "I see you are all right? I was a little concerned that perhaps I had… " Layla hesitated before continuing, "I was concerned I may have gotten a little carried away last night."

Elise flashed a glance up at Layla before quickly averting her eyes again. Her whole body ached, and her pale skin still carried a random array of angry red welts. Feeling a little nervous, she wriggled her ass about on her heels. Immediately the dull pain of her swollen ass and cunt reminded her of exactly what had occurred the previous evening.

"You have to understand little one, that I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I'm really extremely fond of you. You know that, don't you?"

"I understand Mistress…" However, quite simply, she didn't. A photograph on the dresser of an older, but still very handsome, man caught Elise's eye. Then, something dawned on her. "Edward?" she questioned.

Picking up the photo, Layla looked lovingly down at it then slowly traced her fingertips over the image. "Yes, my Edward."

"And he was killed by another woman?"

"You seemed surprised, little one. Yes, well, not directly, but she certainly caused his death."

"I'm so very sorry, Mistress."

Layla carefully placed the photograph back on the dresser. Her body appeared to stiffen as she explained, "Some things you can forgive, Elise. I forgave Edward for being weak and allowing himself to be seduced—men are like that you know. But that little whore— never!"

Elise listened quietly. So many things that had previously been a mystery were now becoming clear.

"Do you know she actually had the nerve to turn up at my Edward's funeral? Oh, yes, she made quite a spectacle of herself." Layla reached for her handkerchief and gently dabbed the tears now forming in her eyes.

"What did she do, Mistress?" For a split second Layla's face contorted into a dark and ugly expression that caused Elise to gasp. "As if that wasn't enough? I will never forget that disgusting dress. Can you imagine it? She turned up to my Edward's funeral in a fucking red dress!" Layla's body quivered as she clenched the handkerchief in her fists, twisting it to the point of almost tearing.

Elise hesitated, unsure of what to do or say, then she leaned over and rested her head on her mistress's lap. Layla gently stroked the side of Elise's face with her fingertips, as the two remained silent in their own thoughts for several minutes.

'Yes, men are weak,' Elise told herself silently. Her own experience proved that. Elise had tried so hard when her father married his lovely young secretary. 'Everyone adores Jean," he told Elise. "Why don't you?" But Jean just understand. Jean wanted too much of his time, too much of his attention… too much of his love. When, just after her eighteenth birthday, Elise left home, she felt certain her father would realise how he had hurt his little daughter. He would divorce that loathsome woman and things would be just how they had been before—just Elise and her father—but he never did. Elise knew why; he was just too weak. So, she made up her mind; he would have to choose his new wife or his daughter. She blinked and a single tear trickled down her cheek breaking her thoughts. Elise then she lifted her head and whispered, "It's a terrible thing to lose someone you love. I lost someone very special, also. He was weak, too."

"Oh, you poor baby. I had no idea." Layla wrapped her arms protectively around the girl's shoulder, then leaned over to rest her cheek on top of Elise's head. "Who, little one?"

"My father," Elise replied, hesitating, then nonchalantly adding, "His whore wore black to his funeral."