Sylvia Amdur – The Unconquerable Heart:

The Perseverance of Compulsive Love:

Sylvia’s sacrifice – Part -2 – From our book,

‘The Unconquerable Heart’

Meanwhile, back in the Presidential suite room, Tretan had released Sylvia from the cross. He now sat back again on his elevated sofa and looked amorously at his slave who stood before him, helplessly.

‘I admire your foolishness…’ Tretan remarked, observing that Sylvia kept her arms crossed over her naked chest and stood expressionless before him, without bothering to look him in the eye. She wasn’t sobbing anymore or even experiencing the slightest hint of fears. She had turned into a bland emotionless lady, devoid of any sensitivity.

Tretan stirred up another peg of Absinthe, took a swig and placed the glass on the side table and gestured her to come closer to him.

Sylvia obeyed. Tretan made her turn around and unfastened the Velcro straps loosening the skirt to the floor. Now Sylvia was completely naked. Tretan forcedly turned her around and leaned back on his sofa, ‘Now try covering both.’ he said laughing even more wickedly.

Sylvia’s tears had long dried up. She was ashamed but her pain was beyond physical. She only visualized Munna’s innocent smile all the time and it gave her a tremendous amount of solace.

‘Now wiggle ya fleshy cheeks. Strap your filthy body with a fishnet dress and come back to daddy.’ Tretan ordered.

Sylvia promptly obeyed and walked towards the closet. Tretan looked amorously at her fleshy rear as it wobbled up and down with the upward vibration generated by the clanging of her heeled shoes against the wooden floor. She could easily find the fishnet dress in the closet as she’d observed it on her previous visit. It was a short, one piece, knitted see-through dress, woven intricately by elastic threads. When Sylvia put it on, it easily fit her shape. Despite the dress being see-through, her naked body was on complete display. It looked as if she only wore body paint.

She understood Tretan was now ready to unleash upon her the actual act of humiliation. She resolved not to let pangs of shyness or fear, hinder her spirit to persevere through the hellish night. She strode back to the dais confidently and stood before him holding her hands to the front.

‘Hmm, lovely titties.’ Tretan commented pointing his index finger at her, holding the absinthe filled glass. ‘So, that’s what you decided is more precious.’ Tretan said slyly observing her hands held to the crotch. Sylvia stayed silent. Her psychological state had already crossed the boundaries of shyness now.

‘Well, for the big question.’ Tretan leaned forward in the sofa and peered straight into Sylvia’s eyes. ‘I know your answer for sure, but I still want to hear it from you.’ he said.

‘Please ask, Fuhrer.’ Sylvia said looking into Tretan’s eyes.

‘Do you really consider that mute retard your soul mate?’ Tretan asked seriously stirring the half-filled glass.

‘I do, Fuhrer.’ Sylvia replied without exhibiting the slightest hint of offense at Tretan, for having referred to the love of her life as a ‘retard.’ She knew, by reason, being extremely calculative and obedient were the only two things that would see her through that night.

‘How dear is he to you?’ Tretan egged on relaxing back in his sofa.

‘I would carve my heart out for him, Fuhrer.’ Sylvia said. Her eyes turned moist answering something she’d posed to herself a good many times.

‘Good, I like the intensity. Now, wiggle ya ass back there and tie yourself a Tichel[1]. I think you very well know how to do it, don’t you bitch?’

‘I do, Fuhrer.’ Sylvia answered and walked up to the closet, picked up a red coloured scarf and tied it around her hair in the traditional Jewish fashion. She then came back and stood before Tretan.

‘Lovely chubby pig.’ Tretan said. ‘Now, go and straddle that one.’ Tretan pointed at a spanking bench at the far end of the room opposite to his seated position.

Sylvia turned around to find the instrument of her earthly damnation but she didn’t feel the slightest of inhibitions or fears, Tretan had taken off those already. Now she was just a big piece of lifeless meat with no emotions. But Tretan wanted to achieve something more than just pound at that lifeless meat and it was yet to be seen if Sylvia could pass that hell. She meekly straddled the spanking bench. The fishnet dress drew up to her buttocks, as she knelt on the spanking bench and it offered a clear view of her vagina and rectum to Tretan.

Tretan folded up his full hands shirt, picked up a small glass plate and poured himself ten big lines of cocaine powder from tiny glass vials that were already kept on the table. He then picked a long thin tube that was kept in a horizontal holder at the end of the glass plate and snuffled up four of those lines. The cocaine rushed through his nostrils into his bloodstream and instantly gave him a monstrous high. He placed the plate aside on the table and jerked his head sideways letting the cocaine ease his senses. He then removed his shoes, stood up, removed his pants and underwear and walked up to Sylvia.

‘I’m gonna tell you a real story; a story I’ve been intrigued about a long time now.’ Tretan said as he fastened the Velcro strap of the spanking bench on her neck first. The neck strap completely immobilized her head, fixing her right cheek to the headrest. Having tightened the neck strap satisfactorily, Tretan then bent down to face Sylvia, ‘It’s about a pious Jewish woman’s instinct for survival.’ he said sarcastically mimicking a double quote in the air with his fingers.

Sylvia stayed silent and Tretan continued to strap one of her hands, ‘And you will answer me back, bitch.’ he shouted on her face impatiently.

‘I’m listening, Fuhrer.’ Sylvia replied in a modest tone. She wildly speculated that his story was going to be Nazi rhetoric, questioning her integrity of devotion to God, family, spouse or even herself.

‘Very well then.’ He said continuing to clamp down her other arm. ‘My Grandpa was a senior officer in the SS Gestapo and was in charge of a concentration camp at Auschwitz.’ Tretan then strapped up her feet, stood between her parted legs, pulled up the fishnet dress a little upwards towards her waist and inserted his erected penis in her vagina. He gave her one strong pelvic thrust and then it was all over for him. He collapsed on her back grunting and leaking inside her. Sylvia stayed put like a rock; she didn’t expect it to finish so soon, but then Tretan had all the time till seven the next morning and she was sure, he’s not someone who would leave her so quickly.

[1] NOTE: Tichel is a head scarf worn by orthodox married Jewish women in compliance with the codes of modesty as required of them in the Torah – the Holy book of Judaism. Orthodox Judaism states that a woman’s hair is a sensual and private part of her appearance, and hence may only show it to her husband in privacy. This is considered a sign of the bond between husband and wife. And hence married Jewish women are required to cover their hair in public


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s