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rear bar, and another series of electric shocks fired through her most tender flesh. She immediately realised that she had to somehow keep from touching the steel bar fixed behind her, and the only way to do that was to keep pace with the speed of the treadmill. This wasn’t too difficult, for the belt was only moving at a reasonable walking pace, and she quickly adapted to the required rhythm. However, almost imperceptibly, the speed increased, until she had to take long, rapid strides. After a couple of minutes, Sara found herself trotting to keep pace, and more than once her bottom touched the bar to send the sharp electric shocks screeching through her tits and pussy. Worse still, the power of the current seemed to increase each successive time. She was only vaguely aware that the woman had walked away, leaving her to pound the treadmill and desperately try to keep away from the rear bar. Soon she was sprinting and blowing hard but then the belt slowed for a while, back down to a trot. It was evident that the machine was pre-programmed to give an arduous interval training workout.
     

VI
     
    The first time that Sara became fully aware of the size of Viktor Borzov’s ‘family’ was about a month after she had arrived at the oligarch’s Moscow HQ. Sasha supervised her preparation but he was unusually quick and perfunctory about it. Besides her sapphire choker, he merely provided a pair of shoes and instructed her to apply make-up and tend to her hair. She was also made her powder her body and apply rouge to her nipples and the lips of her sex. Sara was then left to sit with her hands on top of her head and legs splayed widely. She knew better than to change position, even in the pitch blackness. As Sara had learned to her cost, the cameras had infra-red and someone was always likely to be monitoring her, even in the dark. So she sat alone with her thoughts, meek and submissive.
    After that first night with the creepy Dom, life had fallen into something of a pattern for Sara as one of Borzov’s discreet harem of willing, or nearly willing young beauties. As his newest acquisition she received rather more of the Boss’s time than the others, often being chosen to dine with him alone. He liked to hold a cultured conversation with her, but this seemed more and more strange to Sara when she was clad in a bizarre bondage outfit, panting to be fucked. Still, the fabulously wealthy oligarch seemed to enjoy teaching her the game.
    Her life as a demure Ivy League college graduate seemed a long time ago but despite the strict and often painful incarceration (or perhaps because of it), she was enjoying her erotic adventure. And, of course, she wasn’t the only Borzov bondage bitch. She had attended several small soirees in the Boss’s penthouse suite, often with other girls who were equally subjected to the ‘fun’. And she had seen various young women being led out for exercise. But she had never got to know any of the other young women, and there was little chance of conversation, either at the parties or at exercise.
    The guests she entertained were usually well-known and sometimes glamorous, and at other times they were downright sinister but, without fail, these little parties always ended up with Sara and any other girl present getting heavily dominated and thoroughly fucked. Often, guests would bring their own sluts too, and Sara was never sure which girl belonged to Borzov and which didn’t, so it was hard for her to assess the size of the oligarch’s stable of bitches maintained. After the parties, Sara was always returned to the darkness of her metal box in the basement. Plenty of others came for her oral services, and Georgy, Leo and Sasha often came to fuck her too, but she had no social intercourse with the other girls. This night, though, proved to be somewhat different.
    Sara’s arms were beginning to ache when Leo came for her, an hour or more after Sasha had left. Leo he ordered her from the small,