Pyotr left them to it. His men well knew how to break new cunts in then train them till they were obedient cocksleeves. After all, it had been a business the Volkov's had been involved in for three generations and and they'd got it down to a fine art.

Izz had woken up alone and after a quick breakfast she got to work assessing the remaining damage, listing items that would need to be brought in to get the assembly line running again. They had lost a few easily replaceable cunts but, more seriously, ten Dominants had also been killed in the shitstorm the new arrivals had created.

At least five of the replacements would need to be top-tier. They weren't like the rank and file sadists already here but true Dominants who took pride in their work, who understood the psychology, the nuances of training a specialised fuckpet. The best of them understood why they craved what they did, were taught to be true submissives. These weren't just holes to be used till they were too broken to be of further use.

The best Island cunts were smart, well-trained, highly sought after... and beautiful. They often ended up as the valued pets or even confidants of the powerful men who bought them and occasionally even as a wife.

In past centuries they would have been the courtesans and concubines of the elite. They were clever and, if a buyer requested, could be educated in more than the ways of pleasure. The Dominants trained the mind before the body, turning cunts into valuable fuckpets, pleasure slaves for men who wished for true mastery... and they were paid accordingly.

Izz made a note to pay out the dead men's next-of-kin and include a healthy bonus for each. Car accidents were a sad fact of life, especially when you considered how so many Russian drivers treated roads as their own personal fiefdom.

The chosen Dominants would be the best of the best, those who could turn the most resistant cunt into a begging mess without leaving a mark on her flesh. The top ones could do it by word alone.

Training a cocksleeve to cum on any and every cock while trembling in agony was a simple pavlonian response that could be trained within a week. It didn't take any particular skill. Training a cunt to cum just from a Master's voice, his commands, from imagining what would be done to her was more difficult.

Training one to crave it when she'd barely been used was harder still. Those were the truly valuable ones, the ones who would willingly do ANYTHING for their Master's pleasure, who's greatest punishment was knowing she'd disappointed him.

Forcing a cocksleeve was really easy. Training a pavlonian response was easy. True absolute mastery and ownership was an art, a dying art.

Izzy suddenly realised she was soaked from thinking about it. Remembering how her love had trained her and made her into his perfect toy, how the worst punishment was the look of disappointment in his eyes when she failed him had her cunt clenching. The memory of the ways he'd trained her, taught her, the things he had done before rewarding her with his thick cock was so real she could almost feel him watching her.

He would not be proud of her now, in fact he'd hate the way she'd let herself be broken by his murder and he'd sure as hell make sure she knew it. Even knowing this Izz couldn't force herself to care.

She was less than nothing without him and truly broken beyond repair. Knowing she'd never submit to him again, never feel his touch or hear his voice had her craving to be hurt simply so she'd feel something beside grief and emptiness.

He'd been so proud of what she'd become under his love, his mastery, how she'd flourished under his training, his ownership, but now, no. She'd burn the whole fucking world if it meant she would see his smile once more or get to check out his ass as he walked away, or simply kneel at his feet but it would make no difference. She was alone, nothing, simply existing not living.

Giving herself a mental kick she ignored her needy cunt for now, knowing that later Pyotr would hurt her enough for her to get through another day. She made a note to herself to tell him the thoughts she'd had regarding the new Dominants.

Some new building materials were needed to replace the damaged walls and flooring before the wet season struck. This was the one drawback of being off South America as opposed to the Baltic. The latter would have been cheaper and colder but there was less jurisdiction here and greedy politicians were easy to replace. Izz did not really enjoy the wet in the tropics but it was easier to keep the cunts nude. Cold weather needed clothing of some kind.

After a detailed check it became obvious there'd been remarkably little damage to the infrastructure. Thankfully the tech centre hadn't been breached and they hadn't had time to torch the main buildings. How they'd intended to get themselves, and, presumably, the 'free' cunts out would need to be examined. Security would have to be upped as well. Izz smirked to herself, knowing there'd be no shortage of men volunteering for that duty as it came with free access to the common cocksleeves-in-training.

Izz thought Pyotr had been too hasty to end the first cunt as she was sure information had been overlooked. Then again, it kept the men happy and was kinda hot. The men had definitely needed the release.

Suddenly feeling she was being watched she discreetly eased her blade out before walking past the bar. Nothing was visible as she watched for the reflection of movement out of the corner of her eye but she was certain all the same. Someone was here who shouldn’t be.

Deciding against further action she returned to Main Square. Several of the cunts were in punishment devices. Yuri and two others were busy making the most of one spreadeagled cunt strapped to a cross. The top ropes weren't attached, allowing her wrists to be tied to her legs. Bent in half, holes fully exposed and at just the right height she was displayed for mens enjoyment. Various whips and devices were placed on the stand beside her.