Sandy arched her back once again, testing the limits the ropes would allow her to move from the chair. And again that limit was only an inch or so. Inch by inch, loop by loop, she concentrated upon each segment of the bondage that had been applied to her, testing it where she could, imagining how she might turn any slack or misplaced knot into an escape. First the white cotton clothesline wrapped around her ankles. That had been cinched down good and tight before the final knot had been tied, and the additional cinch ropes that went up to her wrists made the ankle bondage even tighter. No slack or play there. She stretched her toes but could not reach the floor. No chance of using her toes to tilt the chair over.
Her knees were wrapped and cinched down and knotted. But the way they were bent as her legs were tucked under the chair tightened up the ropes. Again, nothing loose, nothing to work on.
She turned her attention to her wrists. They had been placed palm to palm together behind her back and tied. There was cinch rope over the main windings and a couple tight knots where her fingers could not reach. But the most damning rope of all was the additional cinch ropes that connected her ankles and wrists. That rope had been pulled tight until her feet were off the floor and dragging on her wrists. No chance of loosening that wrist bondage.
Sandy's elbows were tied much as the wrists had been, with rope around them and cinch ropes running between her arms and around the main loops. It was an efficient way to bind a girl's elbows, tight and secure and inescapable. And somewhat painful, too. Sandy was reasonably slender but even so, binding her elbows together behind her back was uncomfortable. And she knew that it would grow more and more uncomfortable as time passed.
The rest of the binding was then mentally inspected. There were ropes around her tummy and the back of the chair, cinched down tightly. That pretty much held her bottom in place. Those ropes might have been within range of her fingers had not her hands been pulled down by the ropes tied between them and her ankles. As things were, they were safe and secure.
The ropes had been cleverly and secured placed upon her body, and she came to the conclusion that she would probably not be able to escape from their grip. About all she could do, beyond moving her head around, was to shift her knees a little from side to side, and thrust her breasts out an inch or so by arching her back and straining against the ropes. All in all, it was a good bondage job.
"Looks fine," Sandy said to the person who had tied her thus. "Everything seems secure." She paused to try and move her shoulders to one side. The back of the chair was buried into her armpits and prevented any movement. "Good. Can't move that way. Okay, Michelle, now the gag."
The person who had tied the ropes around Sandy's body picked up the prepared gag from the dresser and approached the nearly naked and very well bound young woman. Michelle, who was dressed only in bra and panties herself, as opposed to Sandy's tiny black panties, noted that her friend's nipples were already erect, a sure sign that the girl was becoming sexually excited already. Not that such was unusual. Sandy always found being tied up exciting. Just talking about being tied up usually started her juices flowing.
The gag was a ball of cloth made from a washcloth rolled into a tube and doubled over. It was shoved into the open mouth. As Michelle reached for the wide, white tape, the bound girl closed her lips tightly. The tape went over those lips, first horizontally, then in an X shape, each piece of tape ending far from the mouth to get maximum effectiveness. Sandy had at first wanted to have the roll of tape wrapped around and around her head at her mouth level, which would work very well to seal her mouth. But Michelle pointed out that it might be very hard to get the tape unstuck from her long black hair, so Sandy backed down.
But the tape was not to hold the wad of cloth in by itself. There was also a leather harness that strapped onto her head. A portion of the gag covered her mouth from ear to ear, and from the bottom of her nose to her neck. Straps around and up over her head held the gag in place. The tight leather covering the tape helped hold it in place against any attempt to push it out with the tongue. The bottom part of the gag under her chin even had a strap that went around her neck to hold it tight in place. Michelle backed off, absently pushing a curl of her long blonde hair back from her face, and looked at the bound and now gagged girl. The raven-haired girl was shaking her head, obviously trying to dislodge the gag and push it from her mouth. After a minute she ceased the struggled and simply sat there, breathing heavily.
"Point of no return," said Michelle, teasingly. Sandy nodded. The look in her eyes said she understood fully.
Between these two friends and roommates, there was an understanding about the rules when one is placed in bondage by the other. There is a certain point beyond which the one being tied cannot change her mind. That "point of no return" was where the victim would have to go through with whatever ordeal was planned. It usually occurred at the point when the bondage became sufficient to prevent escape by the victim. But sometimes it came when the door closed, leaving one of the two beautiful girls alone and very helpless. Today, it came when the gag was tested and found not wanting. Sandy was now securely bound and gagged. She could not free herself. Or at least both girls assumed not. She could not talk. Not unless she were able to work the gag off during the course of her struggles. She was, in a word, helpless.
Michelle then turned to a small arrangement of items on the dresser and Sandy's eyes followed her with unusual interest. There were four items on the wooden dresser; two were wooden clothespins, one was a small bottle of reddish liquid, and the last was a small jar of honey. Michelle paused before the objects, apparently deep in thought. Sandy made funny grunting sounds through her nose, perhaps as attempts at speech in hopes of influencing Michelle's choice. She toyed with the wooden clothespins with one fingernail, moving them about on the dresser. Sandy moaned. Then she picked up the jar of honey and read the label. Sandy sucked in her breath for she knew that if the honey were chosen, it would be smeared all over her bare breasts, chest, legs and shoulders. It would be torture to have to endure the sticky honey for the hours that she was going to be left alone, but the worse part was that the windows would be opened which would allow flies into the bedroom. On a warm summer evening such as this was, she would soon be wearing a coating of flies, some stuck to the honey, some walking around on her skin, others buzzing around her head. It would be most unpleasant.
Michelle put down the honey but her hand hovered near the jar. Then she made a quick motion and the small bottle of reddish liquid was in her hand. Sandy moaned and shook her head in negation. But Michelle was not to be put off by nonverbal protests. She advanced upon the helpless girl, opened the bottle, and pour a little of it on the upper slope of one rather large and perfectly shaped breast. Using two fingers, she spread the liquid around the breast, taking more from the bottle as needed, until the entire breast was covered with a thin coating. Special attention was paid to the rigid nipple to ensure that it was totally covered. The process was repeated with the other breast.
The bottle was recapped and placed back on the dresser. Michelle immediately went to the bathroom and washed the oily substance off her hands. Then she proceeded to remove her underclothing and take a shower. After that she blow dried her hair, dressed in a very flattering burgundy skirt that showed most of her long, lovely legs, and added a matching lavender silk blouse. When she moved certain ways, it was obvious that she wore no bra under the silk and that her breasts were every bit as big and nice as Sandy's. Black high heels finished the outfit, making her look very sexy.
All the while Michelle was fixing herself up, Sandy sat in her chair. From time to time she strained against the ropes, trying against hope to find some slack, some means of escape, but there was none. By the time Michelle was hoping around, putting on her high heels, Sandy's breasts were heating up and the captive girl had a serious look in her eyes. She seemed to be trying to get her friend's attention. But the blonde ignored the bound girl completely.
When Michelle was all finished and a glance at the clock showed her that it was time to go, she turned to the bound girl and smiled sweetly. "You know I really would like to stay and watch you suffer," she cooed. "But Ted has promised me a lobster dinner, and you know how I like lobster. Makes me so horny," she giggled. "I wouldn't be surprised if we wound up back at his place. For a little fun and games, you know."
Sandy knew. And she groaned. That meant her friend would not be returning until late at night. Perhaps not until the next morning, if she and Ted fell asleep after their lovemaking. Sandy shook her head violently from side to side, trying to make it known that she didn't want to be left bound and gagged for that long. And especially not with her breasts covered with Secret Formula X.
There was the sound of a door bell. "Oh, there's Ted now. Got to run," said Michelle sweetly. "Have a good night. I know I will. Bye."
Then Michelle was gone. But she left the bedroom door open and Sandy could hear her greeting the man who sometimes dated both of them. Then came the sound of the front door closing, including the clicking of the locks, and Sandy was alone in their apartment.
She let out a groan of frustration and began a serious attempt to free herself from the ropes. Secret Formula X was the name that they gave to the mixture of irritants they had come up with after long experimentation. The liquid stayed on the skin and did not run off. It made the skin itch and burn. And it lasted a long, long time. A girl so unfortunate as to have her breasts coated with Secret Formula X would be in for a great deal of torment as the hours wore on. Unless she could free herself and get into the shower.
Sandy strained and jerked and pulled against the ropes. She tried to push the gag out of her mouth. She tried to reach any of the knots with her fingers, but they were cleverly tied just out of reach. As she strained and struggled, her breasts bounced a little and swayed from side to side now and then, but mostly they just stuck out there and grew more heated.
By the end of an hour Sandy was exhausted from her efforts to free herself but no closer to freedom than at the start. Her breasts were both on fire and itched like crazy. She longed to be able to grab both of them and dig her fingernails into them. But the way she was bound prevented that. She was panting, she was hot, and she was frustrated as hell. She was suffering from very tight ropes, tortured breasts and uncomfortably bound elbows. She wanted to scream and was thankful that she was gagged for it would prevent the screams from leaving the bedroom.
By the end of two hours she was cursing herself and Michelle. By the end of three hours, as the light in the bedroom was fading to night time, she wanted to cry. She even tried to tip her chair over in hopes that she could rub her breasts against the carpet, the bed, anything.
But she was also very sexually excited and riding an intense emotional high very few women ever experience or would understand. Her whole body was alive to the torment and the pleasure. She felt helpless, even a little afraid, for anything could happen while she was so bound. Michelle could get killed in a car accident and never return to free her friend. The apartment building could catch fire and burn to the ground with her still helplessly bound to that chair. Hell, the landlord could even come in and find her like this. He had a key, after all.
Being alone and so helpless was scary for sure. But also very exciting. Sandy was fully alive and riding intense emotions.
Around the five hour mark Sandy managed to squeeze her thighs together enough, to strain against the ropes enough, and to feel the burning and itching in her breasts enough so she reached the only relief available to her, an orgasm. For a long time her nearly naked body arched against the ropes until the muscles were trembling.
When she finally drifted down from the sexual high, she was still bound, still helpless and still suffering. But the orgasm has been so intense that it didn't matter much what else was happening to her. She was living life to the fullest and enjoying it.
In the middle of the night her breasts began to cool down and itch a little less. Eventually she was able to fall asleep for a while, an art she had learned from long nights spent in bondage. But before she drifted off into dreams of being helpless while a thousand demons tortured her breasts, she made a mental note to congratulate Michelle on a well done job, both of the bondage and of making her feel so very helpless while alone. And she began making plans for what she would do to Michelle when next it was the blonde girl's turn to be the "victim."
The Saturday morning had been uneventful, as the whole weekend promised to also be. The two beautiful women had cleaned their apartment, Michelle doing so while completely nude and wearing handcuffs and leg irons. With her wrists cuffed in front, there was little of the housework she could not do, and the chain connecting the ankle cuffs of the leg irons was of sufficient length so as to not prevent her from walking nearly normally. As she moved around the apartment, a clinking music followed her.
By mid-morning they were finished and had to face the prospect of finding something wild and crazy to do for the rest of the weekend. Michelle was sitting on a bar stool, ideally inspecting the keyhole on one of her handcuffs. Sandy was flipping through the TV guide without really seeing the listings.
"We could play it straight this weekend," suggested Michelle shyly.
"Straight!" exclaimed Sandy. "You mean not to do any kind of bondage for the whole weekend? Have you lost your mind? Has your twisted little brain straightened out? Forget that!"
"Well, it was just an idea." Michelle smiled sweetly. "A lot of people do it that way."
Sandy made a disgusted noise and tossed the magazine to the coffee table. "There's got to be something interesting to do," she said with special emphasis on the word, "interesting."
"We could tie you to a chair in front of the TV and make you watch reruns of "I Love Linda" all day," suggested Michelle.
Sandy grunted. "There's got to be something better. We just have to think of it."
"We always do," purred Michelle. "Maybe we could dress real sexy and go down to Hank's and let the boys try to pick us up. It's so much fun when we tell them that we really don't like men. And then kiss each other."
"Blows their little macho, masculine minds," said Michelle. "But we did that two weeks ago. Let's wait a while for a fresh crowd there."
"Well, there's always the cabin in the mountains," suggested Sandy. The cabin really belonged to a friend of Sandy's father but she had a key and was allowed to use it anytime she wished. Her father's friend never used it anymore. And the two girlfriends had spent many an interesting and exciting weekend among the pines and wild mountain country.
"Bit of a drive," commented Michelle. For a few seconds she toyed with her handcuffs then a smile brightened her face. "I've got an idea."
"So? What is it?"
"Well, first we have to decide who gets to have it done to her," said Michelle sweetly. "I was the one who spent the night in handcuffs and leg irons... Not to mention all morning while I did housework..."
"So you think it's my turn?" asked Sandy.
"Well..." Michelle said sweetly. "But first you'll have to unlock me."
"Before I unlock you, I have to ask. Am I going to regret this? I mean, some of the things you've dreamed up for me were pretty rough. Like the time you left me hogtied all night in the forest half a mile from the cabin."
"Don't worry, you'll like this one. And you won't be hogtied." Michelle smiled so sweetly and innocently that Sandy produced the handcuff key from her pocket and began releasing her blonde friend.
"I've got a feeling I will regret this," she commented, but she unlocked the handcuffs and then the leg irons. "Good. Now get into the bedroom, we've got to dress you," Michelle said, switching easily from her little-girl, submissive innocence to a dominant mistress. "Suppose I'll have to get dressed, too."
In the bedroom Michelle put away the handcuffs and leg irons and took out some of the cotton clothesline rope from their large supply. It had taken a long time but they finally found a manufacturer of the soft clothesline and had purchased a whole case, over twenty thousand feet of it. They had laughingly joked that it was only a month's supply but they could buy more as needed.
Michelle motioned with a coil of rope and Sandy removed her baby-doll nightie to stand before her friend completely naked. In the normal manner of their game playing, Sandy hung her head submissively and completely cooperated when Michelle took hands and pulled them up behind her back. They were crossed and bound up between the shoulder blades with a short length of clothesline. Then Michelle tied a longer piece of rope to the wrists and used that to make a rope harness that passed over her shoulders on top and behind her back in the armpits. The whole harness was tightened nicely and knotted quite firmly where Sandy's fingers could never reach. When Michelle stepped back, Sandy shook her shoulders and pulled on her arms without being told to. In this wild game between them, they both wanted the bondage to be real and inescapable. Anything else would be cheating.
Satisfied that Sandy's arms were secured behind her, Michelle rummaged through the closet and came up with a coat, a medium length soft leather coat of hers. She put it around Sandy's shoulders and buttoned it up in front. The bottom of the coat came to only to mid-thigh on Sandy. The empty sleeves were tucked into the pockets and safety pins used to hold them there. Michelle left the top button undone and, with the extra bulk of Sandy's arms behind her breasts making the coat was a little tighter than normal, the "V" in front showed a bit more of Sandy's large breasts than she would have liked.
"Are we going out in public?" ask Sandy.
"Of course. Why else would I put a coat on you?"
"Then aren't I showing a bit too much breast?"
"No, you look fine. Just a healthy, well-built young girl."
Michelle fetched a pair of Sandy's high heel shoes and put them on the carpet before the bound girl. They were five inch heels and Sandy protested.
"I can't go out in public in those! With my legs bare and those shoes, I'll look like a prostitute!"
"Well, maybe a little bit. But they do wonders to the shape of your legs. See, I'll be wearing heels myself."
"But yours are only three inches. And are you sure that people can't see up under my coat? It seemed awful short."
"Well, it is a little short. But that's the style. I hear miniskirts are coming back in. Just don't bend over or you'll moon whoever is behind you."
"You're a big help," said Sandy sarcastically. Now that she was secured and helpless, she didn't have to be so cooperative. That was part of their game, too. When one girl was secured, then she could play the part of the unwilling victim. If she felt like that role on that day. "I won't be able to sit down without showing a lot of pubic hair, you know."
"I know."
Michelle busied herself with getting dressed while Sandy stood there on heels so tall they made just walking an adventure. A dangerous adventure. With her arms tightly bound high up on her back, keeping her balance on those high heels was no easy task.
Michelle finished dressing in a business-like blue skirt that ended just above her knees, a frilly white blouse and black high heels of her own. The short skirt showed off her lovely legs very well, and she looked quite delicious. Sandy, on the other hand, did look a bit funny. Anyone looking closely would probably notice that the sleeves were empty. And those high heels did make her legs looks beautiful. And very sexy.
Normally Sandy would have worn pantyhose when showing so much of her legs. But she knew that Michelle was denying her even that much covering of her private parts so she would be constantly aware how close they were to public exposure. If she were to fall, or make the mistake of bending too far over, it would be an interesting, and indecent, show for all to see.
Michelle finished brushing her hair then used the same brush to smooth out Sandy's long black tresses. Then she arranged them spread out along the bound girl's back. It helped to hide the odd shape where crossed wrists were bound behind her.
Before leaving, Michelle took Sandy in her arms and kissed her friend and lover on the lips. Unable to return the embrace, Sandy demonstrated her love by the passion in her kiss. When Michelle finally pulled away, both girls were flushed and breathing a little heavier.
"Later," muttered Michelle as she headed towards the front door of their apartment. Sandy smiled. It would have been nice if her friend had thrown her on the bed for yet another of their lovemaking bouts. But it was also exciting to play these little games and Sandy was wondering just where Michelle planned to take her. Besides, there was always "later."
The walk to the car was uneventful, for which Sandy was glad. No matter how many times they played these bondage-in-public games, she still felt a lump in her throat and a little twinge of fear in her stomach as soon as she heard their front door close behind her. Her arms were tightly bound behind her so she couldn't use them at all. She felt nearly naked with only that short coat to cover her body. And she was completely under the control of a girl was her friend and whom she loved dearly, but who was also a joker. Just as likely as not, she could wind up stranded at some restaurant or along side a road miles from their apartment and have to walk back, all alone and still bound. It had happened before.
In the car, Michelle tightened the seat belt around Sandy's waist, securing her to the seat. Sometimes when they played games like this, her ankles would have been tied also, but this time it was not to be. As Michelle drove along the busy street, Sandy pressed her head against the window and wondered what all those other people on the sidewalk and in those cars would think if they knew that a few feet away was a girl who was bound up, nearly naked, and being whisked away to some ordeal that might be pleasant or a torture. But it would be exciting, whatever Michelle had in mind. Sandy sighed. She really did love these games, no matter how much she was afraid when it was happening to her.
Besides, she knew full well that Michelle wouldn't do anything too drastic. The next day it would be Michelle's turn to be the victim under the total control and power of Sandy, who would surely remember what happened to her today. And if it wasn't the next day, it would be some day soon. Rarely a night went by when one of them wasn't in some kind of bondage at the hands of the other.
"Oh, no!" said Sandy as the car pulled into the parking lot of the Fox Hills Shopping Mall. "You're not going to take me in there!" She was genuinely aghast at the thought of having to walk the corridors of the crowded shopping mall in her condition. "Will you...?" she added meekly.
Michelle said nothing as she found a parking place and brought the car to a stop. She got out, locking her door, and for a second Sandy hoped that she would only be left in the car while Michelle went in for some shopping. But her door was opened and the seat belt unbuckled in invitation for her to get out. With a sigh Sandy did that, a bit awkwardly because of a lack of arms.
"Please..." she whispered as she stood next to Michelle. Michelle simply smiled at her friend and locked the car door, one more barrier between Sandy and the safety of their apartment.
The mall wasn't too crowded, at least not for a normal Saturday. But this was only mid-morning, it would get more and more crowded as the day wore on. Sandy wondered how long she would have to stay in the mall. And there was the nagging fear that Michelle would leave her in there with all those people and her looking like a prostitute - a bound and nearly helpless prostitute at that. She shivered in equal parts fear and delicious excitement.
For a while Michelle strolled along, pausing to look in store windows, acting as if she had all the time in the world. Sandy meekly followed, trying to take an interest in the displays, but really fantastically aware of all the people around her. Each time a person glanced at her, and many did because of her lovely legs and those ridiculous high heels, she cringed inside. But it was a delicious kind of fear and Sandy was glad of Michelle's wild imagination.
She was aware of the way the men looked at her. All the men from the youngest teenager to the oldest grandfather, they all looked at those long, lovely legs, that budging coat, and the generous amount of breast top front showing in the V. A few might have noticed the long, shinning black hair but most eyes were riveted to the front where more of her charms were on display.
An inner thrill raced up and down her spine to have all those male eyes gazing at her and to know she was generating lust in their hearts. It gave a woman a tremendous sense of power to be able to affect men so much. And, even if most of her loving was spent in bed with Michelle, she still appreciated a male lover now and then. If he knew how to bind her tightly and make her feel very helpless.
The morning wore on and they visited every store in the mall, actually entering many of them. Michelle made some small purchases, a new pair of fishnet nylons in one place, a pair of shoulder length gloves in another. Sandy meekly followed along, trying to act as if she merely had her hands in her pockets, and really had no desire to take them out to pick up anything. And she tried to stand straight upright and not bend forward when looking at something. In a mirror in one store she noted that when she bent forward the bulge of her arms bound high on her back showed more. And the bottom of her coat in back rode dangerously up.
And Sandy was very conscious of the click-clack her high heels made on the stores that had hard floors. Some had carpets and she was grateful that she didn't make a loud, attention-grabbing sound in those places.
Neither of the two young women playing their exciting, erotic and daring game noticed the pair of dark eyes that followed them out of the Twenty-Four Carat Jewelry and down the corridor. The owner of those eyes followed their wandering progress, carefully noting the condition of the one with the long dark hair, the short coat and high heels.
The two girls took a late lunch at one of the mall restaurants. At least Michelle eat a lunch. Explaining that her friend had already eaten and only wanted a coke, she processed to order a club sandwich, which she ate slowly and with great enjoyment in front of the hungry Sandy who had to content herself with sipping her coke through a straw. It was just one more of the little torments the dominant one got to play on the submissive one in their games.
And under the table, Michelle's hand slipped down occasionally to stroke the smooth skin of Sandy's leg. Michelle was careful not to do it when anyone seemed to be watching for the underside of their table was not adequately covered by the table cloth and most of the bound girl's legs were clearly visible. At one point, after Michelle's fingers had made the journey all the way up to Sandy's pubic hair, Sandy moaned with repressed sexual excitement and leaned over to whisper in Michelle's ear that she was desperate to get back to the apartment so they could make love. Michelle laughed daintily as if Sandy had just told her a mildly funny joke and went back to finishing her sandwich. Sandy moaned quietly to herself and squeezed her legs together. It didn't help the fire burning within her loins, but it would prevent Michelle's fingers from touching a part of Sandy she so desperately wanted touched but not out in a public restaurant.
Mercifully, Michelle made Sandy only window shop in two more stores before she led the bound and horny girl back to the car. Once she was seat-belted firmly to the seat, Sandy spread her legs and begged Michelle to touch her sex. Michelle laughed in a delighted way and refused to do as her friend wished. It was not that she was uninterested, indeed, Michelle was just as horny as Sandy. It was just that she knew keeping Sandy horny for a while longer while she was tied and unable to even touch herself would make for a very interesting and intense lovemaking session when they did get back to the bedroom. One squeeze of her left breast through the coat was all that Michelle would grant her dark haired friend.
The drive seemed like forever to Sandy, but she knew what Michelle was doing. She had done the same to the blonde girl many times. They used their bondage games to heighten their sexual desire. And when that desire finally came to fruition, it was incredible. She was really looking forward to throwing her body on the bed, spreading her legs wide and welcoming Michelle's loving tongue. Or perhaps Michelle would select one of their dildos and give her a thorough screwing with the phallic substitute. Or perhaps Michelle would simply take her clothes off and order Sandy to kneel at her feet and use her tongue to please her. Not knowing was part of the game. It was even possible that Michelle would tie Sandy into some impossible tight position and leave the girl alone to suffer both the discomfort of the ropes and the unsatisfied desire burning within.
Sandy sighed. No matter what happened, it would be fun! It was nothing that Sandy had been envisioning. First Michelle removed the coat and placed a large ball gag into Sandy's mouth. When that was strapped in tightly, she pushed the lovely raven-haired beauty back onto the bed and processed to bind her ankles to the comers, forcing her legs to spread wide. Sandy was almost panting with desire as she watched her beloved friend knotting the ropes tightly about her ankles. Even when her legs were spread to about their limit, she thought not of the discomfort but only of the coming ecstasy.
Michelle stripped off her clothes slowly to the accompaniment of Sandy's pleading moans. When she had tossed off the last tiny bit of panties, she went to the dresser where they kept all their ropes and other playthings. When she returned, smiling, to the bound girl, her hands held a large dildo. Sandy's eyes widened in both shock and pleasure. The rather massive replica of the male phallus was gently placed at the entrance to Sandy's love tunnel. The tied down girl moaned loudly and thrust her hips up to meet the rubber thing that she so craved. But Michelle leave the dildo laying on the bed with only the tip of it's nose barely parting Sandy's pussy lips. But quickly she came back with a short length of rope. Suddenly she shoved the toy in, pushing until it was buried to its base in female flesh. It went in easily for that entrance way was already well lubricated and ready.
Sandy moaned extra loud and her body arched upward, supported by her bound arms under her. Quickly, and with expert hands, Michelle looped rope around Sandy's waist, jerked it tight, then ran it down between her legs. Twice the rope passed between the wide spread legs until it was knotted in front. The dildo was then tightly held inside the panting girl so that no amount of struggling or pushing could dislodge it. Not that Sandy wanted it out. She was breathing very hard and her face and neck were flushed with excitement. Her nipples were very rigid and her hips were thrusting gently back and forth.
Michelle could have simply stood there and watched the helpless and naked girl reach a much-desired climax, but she was not of a mind to make it so easy for her friend. Climbing on the bed, she straddled Sandy's body with her legs on each side of her head. Then she removed the gag and move her own pussy so it was positioned just an inch away from Sandy's mouth. Without an order, and with great enthusiasm, Sandy lifted her head and plunged her tongue into Michelle's cunt, hungrily wiggling it as fast as she could. The effect was instant. Michelle lifted her head towards the ceiling and moaned with pure pleasure. She began a circular motion of her own hips that matched the humping Sandy's hips was doing a little farther down the bed. Quickly both girls were emitting little sound of ecstasy, gasping in pleasure and desire, and rapidly approaching their mutual satisfaction. When it came, it was almost simultaneous, both girls crying out. Michelle threw her body around so that she was laying on top of Sandy, her legs between the bound girl's spread legs and her hips hard against Sandy's. Then she wrapped her arms around Sandy and thrust her hips hard against the ropes and dildo inside, much like a man driving his tool into the woman he loved. Their mouths found each other and locked into a kiss with their tongues caressing each other.
For a long time the two naked girls held that position, both lost in a haze of orgasm.
Michelle was the first to come back to earth. She sucked in a deep breath and arched her body. When she got off Sandy, the still helpless girl moaned, perhaps in response to the lessening of pressure against the dildo, perhaps as a plea for more. But she was never able to place that plea into words for Michelle lifted her head and replaced the ball gag. Sandy did not protest nor fight the intrusion of that large rubber ball. Being completely helpless was a wonderful thing to her and she savored it.
When Michelle left the bedroom, Sandy was already slowly working up towards another climax, stimulated by the tight bondage, the discomfort of laying on her bound arms, the feeling of vulnerability created by her wide spread legs, and impossible to ignore presence of that large dildo inside her pussy.
Neither girl was aware of the stranger who stood before their door, noting the apartment number. Nor would they have cared had they known, so lost in their mutual pleasure were they. But events were begin set into motion that would change their lives forever.
2
Strange Invitation
On a Saturday evening several weeks later, Sandy and Michelle were engaged in their favorite hobby in the bedroom of their apartment when there was a ringing of the door bell.
"Ignore it," said Sandy from her position tied to the stout metal chair they had bought just for that purpose. Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed the attention Michelle had been paying to her helpless body, so much so that Michelle was surprised that the naked and bound girl had even heard the doorbell.
Michelle switched off the powerful plug-in vibrator she had been teasing the open pussy with and stood up. Sandy moaned as that wonderful instrument of pleasure withdrew from tantalizing contact with her sensitive flesh. Her hips strained forward as if to follow the vibrator but could move only an inch. "Oh, Michelle, please! Don't go."
But Michelle had already straightened her clothing and was headed out the door. She paused to glance back at the form of a young woman bound with her arms behind the chair and legs tied to the back of the chair so her thighs were open. She closed the bedroom door and crossed the front room.
The peep hole revealed only a young woman standing there, so Michelle opened the door. "Yes, may I help you?"
The girl standing there said nothing but motioned down towards the breast pocket of her jacket. For a few seconds Michelle was puzzled. She did not know this girl. She was a beautiful redhead with masses of lovely hair framing her features. Her skirt was very fashionable, if a little short, and revealed nice legs. She wore high heels that made them look even better. There was something about the way she was standing that puzzled Michelle. That and the way that the girl hadn't said anything.
Again she motioned towards the breast pocket with her chin. Michelle could see the end of a small envelope sticking out.
"You want me to take that?" Michelle asked, somewhat taken back by this unusual occurrence. She gently pulled out the envelope by one comer. The girl still said nothing.
Michelle glance down and found the outside of the envelope addressed to her and Sandy by name. The script was rather ornate and fancy. She opened the flap. Inside was a short note, written in the same hand.
"This girl's name is Rebecca," it read. "Please allow her inside and close the door."
Michelle glanced up at the redhead who was still mute. "Sure. Okay. Come on in," she said, standing aside to allow the other girl in.
The girl simply stood there in the middle of the room, expectantly and eagerly watching Michelle. "I would appreciate were you to unzip her jacket," the note continued, "so you might observe her condition. Please do not expect her to answer any of your questions, she is holding a golf ball in her mouth and has orders not to speak."
Then Michelle realized what had been nagging at the back of her mind. The sleeves of that jacket were rather flat. Much like the sleeves when she and Sandy played some of the little games. With sure hands, and fairly certain what she would find, she took the zipper and pulled it down. The jacket popped open to reveal a very nice set of breasts, large and firm, and with erect nipples. There was also revealed a considerable amount of thin cord wrapped around the body very tightly, so tightly, in fact, that it was cutting into the soft flesh in a manner that must have been very uncomfortable if not downright painful. Michelle lifted the jacket from the girl's shoulders and laid it on the couch. Rebecca immediately did a little turn to show off the rest of the bondage.
Her arms were crossed behind her, forearm against forearm, and tightly bound. With the amount of cordage and the tightness, the only thing this girl would be able to do is wiggle her fingers. Or should have been able to had not her fingers been taped together and then taped flat to her forearms. Simply put, the girl couldn't move her hands or arms at all. It was a very effective piece of bondage.
Michelle was puzzled but interested. Who had done this? And why was this girl sent to them? Michelle tried to think of any of their friends who might have done this, as a joke or otherwise, but came up blank. "You're holding a golf ball in your mouth?" she asked. The girl nodded. Now her eyes seemed to be laughing, or at least sparkling with delight. "Would you like to be untied?"
Rebecca immediately shook her head. Then she nodded towards the note again. "Okay," muttered Michelle.
"I am aware that the two of you often play bondage games. I am something of an expert at such games, as you two are. Presenting Rebecca to you is my way of demonstrating this. You may examine her and her bondage. But please do not remove any of it. You may also play with her, if you so wish."
Michelle's eyebrow went up at that. Play with this girl? It was an interesting idea but she was too puzzled about the whole thing to indulge herself. At least not yet. She returned to the note.
"If you two would like to meet with me, be at D'Arcy Restaurant at 8 p.m., tomorrow night. We will talk over lobster tails and wine. When finished with Rebecca, please replace her jacket and let her out." The note was signed, "Mistress Marla."
"Is this Mistress Marla for real?" asked Michelle. Rebecca nodded. Michelle bit her lower lip. This was all very strange. She hesitantly reached out a hand and touched one erect nipple on the bound girl. Rebecca stepped forward so her breast pushed into Michelle's palm. Obviously the girl was willing to be touched while she was bound up and sort of gagged.
Michelle withdrew the hand. Rebecca looked the slightest bit hurt. As she considered what to do, Michelle glanced at the note again and noticed an extra line below the signature. "Please be sure to show Rebecca to your friend who is currently naked and well bound in your bedroom."
Michelle looked up quickly. How did some stranger know that Sandy was naked and bound in their bedroom? Was this some kind of set up? Michelle went back to the front door and double locked it. Then she went to the bedroom and confirmed that the drapes were still pulled shut. She was pretty sure no one could possibly see into their bedroom. She returned to Rebecca who was patiently waiting in the middle of the carpet.
"Well, might as well show you to Sandy," Michelle said. "She won't believe this any more than I do." She put a hand on Rebecca's arm and led the girl to the bedroom. Sandy was still sitting there. Her eyes were closed and her hips were making small motions back and forth. She was obviously still very sexually excited. Michelle positioned Rebecca directly in front of Sandy, then tapped her friend on the shoulder. "Look what I found," she said with a smile.
Sandy opened her eyes a little then suddenly they shot open wide. "What...? Who...? What...?"
"You're repeating yourself," said Michelle. "This is Rebecca. She was at the door. This note explains all." She held the note for Sandy to read.
For perhaps five seconds after finishing the note Sandy said nothing, merely sat there looking at the very nice breasts and tightly corded arms and body of this strange girl. Then she turned to Michelle and said, "Untie me. I'll play with her! Oh, boy, will I play with her."
"Whoa! Slow down. We don't know what's going on here," Michelle advised.
"I know a well tied girl when I see one," replied Sandy. "Come on, untie me! You're not going to keep her all to yourself, are you? Let me get my hands on her."
Throughout all this Rebecca smiled but didn't seem distressed to hear Sandy wanting to get at her. In fact, she seemed pleased at the attention.
"Come on, Michelle, untie me. You are going to, aren't you? Michelle?"
The sadistic tormentor rose to the surface within Michelle. She smiled sweetly and stroked Sandy's pert breast. "I do seem to have the upper hand, don't I?" she purred. "Rebecca, what can we do to you?"
Rebecca shrugged her shoulders, and raised one eyebrow.
"Need yes or no questions, huh? Okay, can we spank you?"
Rebecca nodded and smiled.
"Can we tie you up in some terribly tight and painfully contorted position?" Again the nodded and an even bigger smile "Can we make love to you and force you to make love to us?"
Rebecca smiled and stepped forward until her breasts were rubbing against the front of Michelle's blouse.
"I take that to mean yes." Michelle allowed the bound girl to continue her pressing against her for a bit then gently pushed her back. "I'll tell you what to do," she said firmly. "Never did like uppity slaves," she added in a mutter.
Rebecca immediately knelt at Michelle's feet and bowed her head submissively.
"Oh, boy!" muttered Michelle.
"Oh, shit!" cried Sandy. "Let me at her! Why do you get all the fun?"
"Remember how you tied me to the balcony rail during that rain storm a couple months ago? And how you tied me in a ball, gagged me, and locked me in the closet while you invited George over and let him make love to you on our bed? Don't give me that sob story." Michelle turned her attention to Rebecca, leaving the fuming Sandy struggling against her ropes. "Can you take that golf ball out?" she asked.
Rebecca sadly shook her head negatively.
"Wait a minute," said Michelle, waving the note. "This note only says that you are under orders not to speak. It doesn't say anything about that golf ball staying in your mouth. If you were to be careful not to say a word..."
Rebecca pushed the white golf ball out then spent a few seconds moving her jaw around. That done, she simply nodded once and awaited orders.
Michelle had Rebecca move over until she was pressed against the front of Sandy's chair. Then she pushed the redhead down until it was buried between Sandy's open thighs. Suddenly Sandy gasped. "Oh! Oh! That's good," she cried in delight. "Go ahead. Do it! I love it."
There followed a long, drawn out period of lesbian lovemaking as Michelle used her new toy to satisfy both her and her friend. For a while she let Rebecca bring Sandy right up to the brink of an orgasm, then she would pull the girl back and leave a frustrated Sandy uttering curses and straining violently against the ropes. But eventually she miscalculated and Sandy burst into climax under the talented tongue of the unspeaking stranger.
Rebecca's next task was to service Michelle as she knelt between her legs. Michelle pulled up her skirt and allowed the active tongue to lash her clit and dive into her pussy. She held off as long as she could but finally could evade the inevitable no longer. With a gasp of pleasure, she clamped both hands on the back of Rebecca's head and pushed her face hard into her pussy as she climaxed.
Later Sandy was freed from the chair but her arms not untied. She was then put on the bed and Rebecca order to bring her to another climax, which the redhead did with expert tonguing. When Sandy returned to the real world, Michelle turned her over onto her face on the bed and placed a large rubber dildo in her bound hands. She told Sandy to hold it straight up. Then she ordered and helped Rebecca place her body over the dildo and lowered herself until it was buried deep inside her. Then Michelle straddled Sandy's legs and grabbed Rebecca's large breasts from behind. She squeezed the breasts hard and ordered the girl to come to a climax.
Rebecca obeyed and was soon humping her hips up and down on the artificial penis. Sandy had to hold on to the end tightly to keep the toy from being pulled out of her hands. Fortunately it wasn't very long before Rebecca was arching her body backwards and shivering all over with her own orgasm.
It was two hours later before Michelle pushed the still bound Rebecca out the front door. The golf ball had been replaced as had the jacket. Their questions held gone unanswered, and the two girls finally stopped trying to get information out of Rebecca.
With a contented sigh, Michelle joined the still bound Sandy in bed and, after a bit of resting with her arms around the naked roommate, they made love to each other. This time it was slower and more gentle but still lovely.
The next day neither of the girls said a word about whether or not they were going to meet this mysterious Mistress Marla or not. It was simply understood that they would.
3
Mistress Marla
The girls were early at the specified restaurant. Both had dressed in short brown skirts and matching tan blouses, without bras, which showed when they walked and their ample breasts bounced. They thought it would be nice for them to look alike. And, with the high heels the wore, both were looking very sexy.
Before either could say a word, the head waiter bowed and informed them that they were expected. He bid them follow and led them across the main dinning area to a small private room. There was only one table, large enough for four people. A window to the right gave a lovely view of the last fading glow of the sunset and a million shinning lights of the city below. One woman was sitting at the table, one was sitting in a corner. The waiter bowed again and backed out, closing the door behind him.
Michelle lifted on eyebrow and smiled slightly. Sandy's mouth fell open and stayed there. The woman at the table was perhaps mid thirties, had long dark hair and pretty, dark features. She sat there as a queen on her throne, regal without being too haughty. But it was the girl sitting in the corner that held Sandy and Michelle's attention. It was Rebecca. And it was a Rebecca looking much as she had in their bedroom. She was naked, she was tied with thin cords wrapped tightly around her arms and chest, and she was sitting on a bar stool in the comer. Her legs were tied to the stool and she was gagged with an arrangement of leather and steel that covered the entire lower half of the poor girl's face and strapped tightly around her head. She sat there with her back rigid and her head bowed.
"Don't mind her, girls," said the seated woman as she rose to greet them. "She's being punished. She won't be eating with us. My name's Mistress Marla."
"Your parents gave you a strange first name," said Sandy. "Mistress, I mean. Strange."
"It is a title, of course," replied Marla but without a trace of anger. She smiled and seemed to find Sandy's sarcasm amusing. "Please be seated. The first course will be served shortly. But first a little wine."
Michelle took the chair to Marla's left and Sandy to her right. Immediately a waiter entered and pour wine for the two newcomers, a white wine.
"You should like this wine, it's an early May wine from my estate in France."
"Yes, it is good," said Michelle after a sip.
"Yeah, good," added Sandy after a big gulp that drained the glass. The waiter refilled it then retreated out of the room.
Michelle studied their hostess. This woman's features were slightly dark and the eyes a strange shade of violet. But Michelle could not place the features to any particular nationality. Nor could she place the slight accent that tinted her words. "Tell me," asked Michelle casually, "what does the management of this establishment think of naked and bound women in the private dinning rooms?"
"They don't think anything. They're paid too much to bother thinking." Marla sipped from her glass daintily. "Besides," she added as she set the glass down, "I own the restaurant."
"Neat," was Michelle's reply. "Rebecca's not being punished because we used her last night, is she?"
"Of course not. I expected you two to use her. She failed me in another way and will spend the night in the corner. An appropriate punishment for a girl who acted like a silly school girl, don't you think?"
"I've been tied like that," said Sandy. "Gets uncomfortable after a while." "Of course," was all Marla said.
'Tell me, how did you know that we were into... Ah, these types of games?"
"I had a private detective investigate you two after I saw you in that shopping mall. It wasn't too hard to find out what I needed to know."
"From the privacy of our bedroom?" asked Michelle.
Marla smiled. "Of course. The bug is hidden inside your phone. That will save you the trouble of searching for it when you get home."
Michelle smiled back but without humor or goodwill. She wasn't too pleased at the idea of their having been spied upon. "So we like the same kinds of games you do," she said. "So what?"
Marla paused before answering the question. "I enjoy girls who understand the things you do. Of course, you two are just beginners."
"We can tie pretty good," cut in Sandy. "I wouldn't call us beginners."
"Of course. I'm sure you have gotten good with the ropes. Apparently you've been living together for over a year, and practicing most of that time. But I speak of the domination of one person over another. You two have... How shall I say it, potential?"
"She gets pretty dominant," commented Sandy with a nod towards Michelle.
"Your little bondage games are only a part of a bigger picture," continued Marla, ignoring the dark haired girl. "Have either of you given yourself completely over to another? I think not."
Sandy frowned. But Michelle only pursed her lips. "Maybe we're not playing the same game, after all," she offered. "Perhaps we should go."
Sandy looked puzzled. Marla merely smiled again. "You are free to go. But perhaps you would like to at least enjoy dinner before you go. The food here is really quite excellent."
Sandy looked at Rebecca who continued to sit there with bowed head. "Yeah, I would like to stick around for the food," she said. It wasn't too hard to see that she was also hoping for some more action similar to what had transpired last time that they found Rebecca bound up.
"Lobster tails, you said," said Michelle. "I like lobster tails."
"Good. We'll talk no more of this until after dinner."
Dinner was indeed excellent. The lobster tails had been flown in from Australia alive. The salad, soup, and side dishes were all worthy of a five star rating. And a different wine was served with each course. Sandy drank more than she should, as was usual with her, but Michelle part took in moderation. And enjoyed the meal.
Nothing more was said of bondage or domination or submission. And the naked and bound girl in the comer might not have been there for all the attention everyone paid to her.
It wasn't until the coffee that Marla again brought up the subject apparently dear to her heart. "I have a big house in Bel Air," she began. "It's really more than I need, so I converted some of the lower rooms into playroom. More of dungeons, actually. On Saturday night I would like one of you to deliver the other to my house. The girl being delivered will be wearing a coat but be naked and bound under that. I know you two are familiar with this procedure. I will play with that girl as I wish for the entire night. She will be released Sunday morning."
"You mean you want to tie one of us up?" asked Sandy.
"That. And other things. I will only promise that no serious harm will befall you. This time, at least." Her dark eyes and secret smile hinted at many mysterious things. "The other of you may observe."
"What makes you think we will come?" asked Michelle. "Because I asked you to." It was a simple reply and delivered without a hint of humor or sarcasm. "You want me to deliver Sandy to you, all wrapped up like a Christmas present? So you can torture her?"
"Hey," interjected Sandy, "you might be the one tied. She said one of us."
Michelle continued. "And let you play with her all night?"
"Torture is such a harsh word," said Marla smoothly. "Such a harsh word. I promised there would be no harm. Pain... Perhaps. But no harm."
"Will Rebecca be there?" asked Sandy. "I like her."
"Rebecca will be there. Would you like her to be naked and tightly restrained?"
"Yeah," sighed Sandy. "Here is my address. The time is eight o'clock."
"You take too much for granted," said Michelle, always the more cautious of the two. "I don't think we'll do it."
"You will." Sandy frowned at Michelle. "Why won't we go?" she said to her friend. "Sounds like it might be fun."
"Sounds like it might be a pain in the ass," replied Michelle without taking her eyes off Marla.
"Well, a little whipping with a belt isn't something new to us, you know," retorted Sandy. "Makes the tied up girl struggle real nice."
For a while no one spoke. Michelle was trying to figure out what was behind this woman's request. Beyond the obvious, that is. She wanted to play with one of them. And that playing might become a little rough. But was there more to it? Was there something hidden behind this woman's politeness to them?
Finally Michelle rose from the table. "Thank you for dinner," she said. "It was, indeed, fine food. I've never tasted better lobster tails."
Marla rose with the two girls. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." She escorted them to the door. "Until Saturday."
Sandy looked longingly at the naked girl in the corner but could sense that Michelle would not like her to make any suggestions just then. The door closed and the head waiter was instantly there to escort them out of the restaurant.
Michelle and Sandy walked along the beach, for a change neither of them wearing ropes, handcuffs, chains, or straps of any kind. But they did tease the local boys with a pair of bikini's that left little to the imagination and provided very little warmth. It was early evening and the sun was low over the water, tinting the few high clouds with shades of crimson and burnt orange. Seagulls squawked demands for food overhead and children chased the charge and retreat of the foamy water.
"Why shouldn't we go?" asked Sandy. "It sounds okay." "There's something wrong here," replied Michelle. "I just don't trust that Marla. Mistress Marla, she calls herself. I know we've played our little bondage games with other girls, and guys sometimes. But she's different. Like... Well, like out of our league. Know what I mean?"
"Yeah, she's different, all right. But maybe being rich makes you different."
"Hard logic to argue with, but that's not what I mean. Would you have ever thought of having a naked and bound up and gagged girl sitting on a stool in the corner of a plush restaurant's private room?"
"If I owned the restaurant, I guess I would." Sandy suddenly brightened. "But only one of us is going to be tied and played with. The other will be free to make sure things are on the up and up."
"Maybe..."
Inside, Michelle really wanted to go. It would be interesting to see what this Mistress Marla would do with one of them. And what condition that really beautiful and utterly submissive Rebecca would be when they got there. Probably hanging by her thumbs from the rafters. But she was still uneasy.
"Maybe if we told her that we told a friend were we were, she would know she can't do anything funny," offered Sandy.
"That's not a bad idea," conceded Michelle. "And one of us will be free at all times..."
"Michelle, I'll volunteer to be the one who is tied up," Sandy said with a sigh. "I had wanted to get my hands on that Rebecca, but I'll be the one tied if I have to. I'm sure I'll enjoy myself some... A little bit. Maybe." "You'll enjoy yourself immensely, and you know it," retorted Michelle. Sandy only smiled. "Okay, if you want to volunteer, I guess we'll go. But I stay free all night. That should be good enough."
Sandy threw her arms around Michelle and kissed her soundly upon the lips. That act of happiness and friendship evoked groans from numerous male onlookers.
Mistress Marla's house was at the end of small canyon in what can only be described as "seclusion". There was a huge iron gate set between two massive brick pillars. There was a fence running to the left and right of the pillars that must have been twelve feet tall if an inch. Beyond only trees and shrubs could be seen.
Michelle paused at the gate to look for a speaker into which to announce their arrival but could see none. Just as she was noticing the two surveillance cameras, the gate silently and majestically swung open.
"Impressive," muttered Sandy from her position of restraint in the passenger seat. As per their instructions, Sandy was wearing only a coat and high heels, her arms tightly bound behind her back under the thick blue material. For the trip in the car, Michelle had also bound her ankles and buckled the seat belt tightly over her body. Sandy was enjoying herself with the delight of a small child on Christmas Eve. But, in keeping with game, she had uttered protests every mile of their drive. "You didn't have to tie my elbows together," she said sulkily. "They hurt."
"It looks better that way," said Michelle absently as she negotiated the curvy driveway. "And you behave yourself better if you're hurting a little bit. Ah, there's the house."
House was an understatement. The place was a mansion by any definition of the word. Done in old English style, it would have suited the Queen for a summer residence. Two stories of far larger than normal height and width framed the massive oaken front door. Michelle brought the car to a halt in the courtyard before the house as just sat there looking at the impressive structure.
"I don't suppose it's all false front and hollow behind there, like in the movies," muttered Michelle.
"Our new friend is certainly wealthy," said Sandy quietly.
But the spell could not go on forever. Turning to Sandy, Michelle asked again, "You sure you want to go through with this?"
"Of course. Nothing will go wrong. The worst is I'll get my bottom whipped. And that's happened before. Don't worry. You see me worrying?"
"You're too trusting for your own good. Well, let's go."
The front door opened as Michelle was opening the car door for Sandy. Mistress Marla emerged, wearing a lovely cat suit of black leather. Her high heels clicked against the paving bricks.
"I'm so glad you came," she said regally. "We'll have such fun."
"If you'll just wait a minute, I'll untie her ankles and we'll come inside," said Michelle as she unbuckled the seat belt.
"No need," said Marla with a smile. "Henry!"
At her command a huge black man dressed in formal clothes stepped out of the door and approached the car. Michelle found herself stepping aside as she looked up at the tall and very strong looking man. He easily reached in and picked up Sandy in his arms.
"Henry used to play football in this country," Marla explained as they all followed him and his bound package. "He's quite strong. He told me he got that way from throwing quarterbacks around or something like that. And bouncing tight ends, whatever that means. But he's very useful."
Michelle didn't argue the point. The interior of the house screamed money, lush carpets that you sank into up to the ankle, very expensive paintings, oak paneling in most rooms, and cut crystal chandeliers. The party stopped in a room that might have been a den. There was a large fireplace, several bookshelves and a host of comfortable sofas and chairs. Sandy was set down in the middle of the room on her feet. Michelle could tell she was about to say something from the way she was looking dreamily up into the eyes of that rather handsome black man. But before she could interrupt, Marla dismissed Henry with a wave of her hand.
"Now let's see what present you've brought me," she purred as she approached the dark haired Sandy, teetering on her bound ankles and high heels. As Marla slowly unbuttoned the front of the coat, Michelle noted that their hostess had a riding crop dangling from her belt. Slowly those magnificent breasts became visible, young and proud and protruding in a most pronounced manner due to the binding of the girl's elbows behind her. Sandy smiled and stuck them out as much as she could. She was very proud of her fine breasts.
"Very nice, very nice indeed." Marla seemed pleased. She tossed the coat to a sofa and circled the nudity before her, noting the curves of soft skin, the tight cords cutting into the arms, and the firmness of the youthful body. "Very nice indeed."
Suddenly she turned and walked to a bar against one wall. "What may I offer you?" she asked Michelle. "My detectives didn't find out your preference in drinks. Martini?"
"I'll have a little white wine, if you please," replied Michelle. "Will Sandy have to drink hers through a straw?"
"Slaves don't get drinks." It was a simple statement but spoke volumes.
The wine was served with Marla pouring hers from a wicker covered bottle with funny writing on it. "Nastrova!" offered the leather clad woman, raising her glass. Michelle replied to the obvious toast with "Health".
A small cabinet drawer produced the next attraction which was a pair of small metal clamps, each hardly larger than the nipples they were to go on. Marla took them to the naked girl still standing on the carpet. Without preamble she took one breast in her hand and placed one clamp over the already erect nipple. The shape was basically a circle with a small lump on the edge. That lump had a small slotted head set in it, and it was into that slot that Marla inserted a tiny screwdriver. She turned the screw until Sandy frowned then emitted a little cry of distress.
"That hurts," she uttered. "And it feels sharp."
"The inside does have tiny studs," Marla informed. "But the main pain will come from the pressure of metal squeezing flesh." She turned another half turn and was rewarded with serious cry of pain. The other clamp was then attached to the other nipple, accompanied by another cry of pain. The naked and bound girl shook her chest as it to get it away from the pain but Marla's firm hand upon her already captured nipple clamp was enough to insure that she would stay in that spot. Besides, a girl with her ankles bound can't run too fast.
When Sandy calmed down, Marla stepped back to join Michelle. Both simply watched the dark haired girl trying to cope with this new pain. She tilted her head down and blew on the small metal clamps that were hurting her so. "They burn," she informed with a little trace of anger. "They hurt."
With disdain for the complaints of Sandy, Marla clapped her hands once sharply and Henry instantly appeared. "Carry her down to the dungeon."
"The dungeon?" inquired Michelle as they followed the large black man who was easily carrying her whining friend. "You have a dungeon?"
"Originally it was a wine cellar and basement storage room. I had it made larger then converted into a dungeon. It's quite functional," Marla said, matter-of-factly.
A stairs led them down to the dungeon. Michelle's first impression was of a health club, a large room filled with exercise equipment. But a second look showed her that health was not the main concern here. The equipment included most every type of torture device Michelle could imagine and a few she didn't know the use of at all. To the left was a pillory set in its own platform and made of stout oak and looking like it could hold an elephant. Next to that was a rack looking sort of like a table with a ladder laying on it. But there was a windlass at one end of that ladder. Michelle knew that just to have to lay on that rack would be uncomfortable because of the rungs under you. Next was a set of stocks. The wood was again oak and quite stout. There was a two inch thick board turned on edge for a seat and solid looking yokes with holes for the ankles, hands and even neck. The locks were huge and intimidating.
The right wall displayed three wooden posts from floor to ceiling and an array of whips, ropes, chains, and other restraints hanging from hooks on the wall. There was a metal chair that was bolted to the floor. Michelle had to look twice to believe her eyes for the chair's seat had a metal dildo sticking straight up! A girl forced to sit in that chair would be shafted but good!
There was also a number of rings set into the walls, ceiling, and even some in the floor in places. There were two places where chains hung down from holes in the ceiling. There was a wooden bar set at waist height. From the rings on the floor around it, Michelle figured that a girl could put her tummy against that bar and bend over it. The rings were at just the right places to secure the wrists and ankles in a spread position. The girl wouldn't be able to move much and her bottom would certainly be available for whipping.
There was a small platform that puzzled Michelle. While Henry was carrying Sandy over to one of the overhead chains, she stepped over to that platform to see it closer. It seemed to be a very flat box sitting on the floor. There were four holes in the box, two each on cracks. She realized that two opposite sides of the box could be opened on hinges which would make the box sort of like a pillory. But against the floor? She was trying to figure out how it would work when Marla's voice cut into her speculations.
"The ankles go in one set of holes, the wrists in the other," she said. "Holds the girl bend over. Very good for whipping the bottom."
"Or for a standing screw, if you're a man," replied Michelle. One eyebrow on Marla rose a quarter of an inch in disdain for the very thought of a man doing such a thing.
"Well, what do you have in mind for Sandy?" Michelle asked to change the subject. Apparently Marla was a confirmed lesbian. "I'm anxious to see how you play with her."
Marla turned her attention to where Henry was holding Sandy upright with one hand on her bound arms. Sandy was still blowing on the nipple clamps as if that would do any good for the burning pain. And she tried to look angry at her captors.
"It might be amusing to bind her over that bar with her legs spread wide. Her ass would be sticking right up in the air, no? We could let Henry have his way with her. There would be nothing she could do about it, right?"
Michelle said nothing. She was aware that Henry could overhear what was being said. And, although Henry was not a bad looking man and certainly was a hunk, she wasn't too hot on the idea of Sandy being screwed by a stranger. Besides, she also wasn't sure of what Sandy would think of it. "Perhaps..." she said, but in such a way that it sounded negative. "What is that?" Michelle added, pointing to a short post she saw in the far corner of the rather large room.
Marla smiled and walked towards the post in question. As they drew closer, Michelle say with some surprise that the post was topped with a wooden replica of a male phallus, beautifully carved and painted with enamel in life-like colors. The artificial penis was large enough to cause any girl to feel filled up, but probably not large enough to do any damage. Unless the girl was on the small side, that is. "Oh, now I see what it is. A girl straddles it and sort of... Well, she simply has to stand there with it inside her."
Marla touched a button on the wall and the replica of the male tool rose smoothly. A second button made it lower. Marla smiled. "Care to try it? It can be a great deal of fun."
"No thanks. Maybe some other time." Michelle lightly touched the side of the phallus and a tiny shiver raced down her spine. What would it feel like to be standing there with that thing deep inside her? If it were pushed up far enough she would be on her toes and unable to get off, even if her hands were free. With bound arms and ankles tied to the bottom of the shaft or to those floor rings on either side of it, she would be rather helpless. It might be interesting to try it, she thought. And almost said so aloud but remembered that she had promised to stay out of bondage games so that she would be able to protect Sandy. "Perhaps another time..." she said again, and meant it.
"Henry, bring that slave over here," Marla commanded. Henry again picked up the naked girl, carried her over, and set her down besides the shaft. He untied her ankles without being told to and positioned the puzzled girl over the shaft. The prong was a couple inches below Sandy's pussy and the young girl was looking down with a strange mixture of fear and delight on her face.
"You're not going to do what I think you're going to do, are you?" Sandy asked. "Is that thing...?"
Marla did not answer. Michelle was beginning to see that in Mistress Marla's world, the questions, wants and wishes of slavegirls were ignored. At her command, Henry secured Sandy's ankles to rings in the floor so that they were spread about two feet apart. Then he stepped back.
Marla removed her crop from her belt and approached Sandy. She teased one clamped and hurting nipple with the tip of the riding crop. "The penis will certainly come up inside you. my dear. And, unlike the real thing, it will never fail you. Have you ever been impaled upon an artificial penis, dear?"
"Well," Sandy began, "we have a couple dildos, and I've been tied up with one inside my pussy. I guess that's the same, isn't it? Sometimes I'm tied up all night with the thing inside me." She was smiling now. Pleasant memories, undoubtedly. "It's fun but I stay so horny all night."
"I'm sure you do," commented Marla. Turning to Michelle, she added, "I didn't know you two were that far along."
"Along what?" asked Michelle.
Marla smiled. "Along a long, long path." She put a hand down between Sandy's legs. Her fingers came away moist. Then she took the two steps back to the wall and pressed the up button. Between the pain, the bondage, and being naked before strangers, and an artificial penis now nudging against the lips of her vagina, Sandy was becoming quite turned on. She moaned and spread her thighs a bit wider to accept the prong slowly moving upward. Marla checked but it was not necessary to guide the dildo into it's new home, the lips were spread and the head already entering smoothly into the moist tunnel.
For a while all three observers simply watched as this lovely girl moaned and wiggled with delight. "Oh, it's so big!" she repeated, along with, "It's so good!" Her eyes were closed as all of her concentrated upon the wonderful sensations generating heat within her loins. "Oh, saints preserve us, that's good!" Forgotten was the painfully tight manner in which her elbows had been bound behind her back for over an hour now. Gone were thoughts of the metal devils that clamped upon her nipples and caused her constant pain. All that remained in her world was great pleasure. It was beautiful sight to watch a blush spread from her face down her neck and almost to her heaving breasts. Her breathing quickened to a heavy pant and it was obvious that soon she would be reaching an orgasm. Mistress Marla pressed a button and the artificial penis began withdrawing, considerably faster than it had gone in. Sandy moaned extra loud and tried to move her hips downward to keep it within her sheath. "No! Please, make it come back," she begged.
Marla stopped it with only the head still within her sheath and Sandy squatting down as much as she could to get more of it back in her. Marla waited until the hot girl began to cool down a bit then pushed a button again. The dildo rose back up, much to Sandy's delight. Soon she was on her tiptoes to accommodate the invader. Marla stopped it. For a while Sandy just stood there, on tip toes, eyes closed, as if savoring some delicious sensation. Suddenly she was begging again, "Make it move! Please, make it move in and out. I'm so close!"
Mistress Marla smiled and touched an as yet untouched button. The dildo came down a few inches then rose back up. This motion repeated without any use of the buttons. In fact, Marla left the wall to come closer to her victim.
Sandy was gasping and moaning. "It's so good," she kept saying, with real feeling.
Michelle leaned forward to confirm what she thought she heard. "It's vibrating," she said as a half question, half statement to Marla.
"Yes. A rather strong vibrator, too. I estimate she will orgasm in ten seconds."
The estimate was off by at least four seconds. Sandy's body stiffened and her head arched back as she tried to trust her breasts forward and clench her thighs together. Tremors raced through her body, and a loud moan escaped her lips as she reached what she so much wanted, an intense sexual satisfaction. She slumped and looked like she might have fallen to the floor had not that shaft been buried so deeply within her body.
For a while, all those present watched, undoubted both women feeling that intense sensation along with the naked and bound girl. Or at least remembering. As to Henry, he stood quietly in the background and said nothing. The scene might have held no interest at all for all that could be seen on his face.
Finally Sandy began to come down from her sexual high. But the mechanical rape of her sex continued as she stood there. "Oh, oh, oh! Please, I've had enough... For now," she pleaded. As was the custom in this strange place, her pleas were ignored.
With wave of her hand, Marla gave some order to the waiting Henry, then turned towards the door. "Henry will fix her so she can't hurt herself, even if she passes out," she said casually. "We can go upstairs and have a drink."
Michelle followed but looked back from the door to see Henry tying a rope around those already on Sandy's elbows and running that overhead to a pulley. The rope would prevent the girl from falling. Michelle noted that the motor was still driving the dildo in its up and down motion and vibrating. Strange emotions alternated on Sandy's face, perhaps as she tried to decide if this was heaven or torture.
Upstairs in the den, Marla mixed cocktails, turned on some quiet background music and was the perfect hostess. Michelle gratefully accepted a stronger drink than was her custom for she was excited by what she had seen. This Mistess Marla was carrying their little games to a whole new plateau. And it was not without effect on Michelle, herself. The desire to become a part of the games was very strong. She would probably have asked to try that mechanical girl- screwing machine had not she promised that she would not engage in any activity that would prevent her from watching out for Sandy. She was even a little nervous leaving her friend downstairs with that hunk of a black man. But she also had the feeling that Marla was the one running things and that Henry would not touch a hair of Sandy's head without Marla's permission.
For a while the two women sat and sipped their drinks.
Michelle had questions but was unsure which to ask first. It was Marla who broke the silence.
"Your friend is wonderful! A natural slavegirl if ever I saw one."
"You're not planning to do anything about that? I mean, like try to keep her here?" asked Michelle, trying not to sound worried.
"Of course not, darling. I gave my word that the two of you would be free to walk out of her tomorrow morning, and you shall be. And I won't even suggest that you allow yourself to be bound up." She paused for a drink. "Unless you really want to...?"
Michelle's reply was quick. "No. I don't want to. Not this time. Although, I'll admit that your little game with Sandy would be... Well, interesting."
Marla laughed. "I'm sure it would. You know, I have Henry test every game, as you call them, on me first. That way I fully understand what my slave is going through and feeling. I had him stand me like your Sandy is bound for four hours one afternoon. I thought that my pussy was going to be wore out! I lost count of how many orgasms I had. That's easy to do when the machine won't let you stop."
"Were your arms bound behind you the same as Sandy's?" asked Michelle.
"Yes. As a matter of fact, almost identical. The only real difference was that after the first half hour I ordered Henry to gag me and put the discipline hood on me. That way I couldn't change my mind about receiving the full four hours I had asked for. You do know what a discipline hood is, don't you?"
"I've seen pictures."
"A marvelous device. Makes a girl feel so very helpless. First you fill the mouth with a ball gag that is strapped in tight. Then you put the soft leather of the discipline hood over the girl's head and lace it up in the back. It laces tightly so that every square inch of her head is feeling the pressure of the leather. Then the collar around the neck is locked tightly on, and the girl can't remove it, even if she had hands free to try. Very effective."
"I'm sure."
"I'm telling you so you'll understand that I know what my slavegirls are going through," Mistress Marla said. "It helps no end when I have to punishment them."
"You've tested every slavegirl punishment?" The word slavegirl came hesitantly to Michelle's lips, she was not used to thinking that way. She and Sandy usually referred to each other as the "victim."
Marla did not reply verbally. Instead she stood quietly and unzipped the front of her leather suit. When the top slid off to expose a very young-looking and firm pair of breasts, she turned around. On her back were half a dozen discolored lines crisscrossing the flesh.
"Are those...?" said Michelle in disbelief.
"Whip marks? Yes, they are. They've faded because it was over a week ago. But they are whip marks."
"I find that hard to believe."
"It's quite true. How can I whip a slavegirl if I don't know how it feels to be whipped?" Marla made it sound so logical. "Same goes for all the punishments. I've spent a day in the stocks, the pillories, even a full twenty-four hours tightly bound to one of the posts."
Michelle was speechless. It was simply incredible to her that this obviously dominant woman would submit herself to these tortures.
Marla pulled up her suit and zipped the front closed. "I said I try every punishment before using it on a slavegirl, and I mean it."
The obvious implication of that statement hit Michelle. "You mean that you've whipped some girl? Actually whipped her across the back? That's medieval!"
"No, it's simply common practice for keeping slavegirls in line. And it goes back much farther than the Middle Ages."
Michelle took a big drink and choked on the fiery liquor. "Whoa!" she gasped when she could. "You can't be serious!"
"I'm quite serious, my dear. What you don't see is the logical conclusion to the games you and Sandy play. You do see that human nature has a submissive and a dominant side?
"I won't deny that."
"Then just extent your bondage and discipline games to the logical conclusion. When you have tied up Sandy and keep her in a state of helplessness for five or six or more hours, you're the one in complete control. She is totally submissive to your every whim."
Michelle nodded. She understood very well the feeling of being in complete control. As she also understood the feeling of being completely under control. Both could be delicious.
"I simply recognize that human nature is such that some, perhaps most people, wish to be kept under total control all of the time. There are, Miss Michelle, two kinds of people." Marla paused to take a sip. "There are the Masters and the slaves."
Michelle had nothing she could say. It was right but somehow had to be wrong.
"Tell me, how much of the time are you the one tied up, and how much is Sandy the one tied up?"
"I guess about half and half. Well, maybe Sandy does get tied up a little more. She just sort of volunteers for it quicker than I do."
"It just feel right that she should be the submissive one?" asked Marla. "Tell me, how much debate was there as to which of you would be the one tied up tonight?"
Michelle started to reply but then reconsidered her answer. "I guess not much. We did argue about coming but there never seemed to be any question that Sandy would be the victim."
"Victim? Is that what you call the submissive one?"
"Yes."
"You might try saying 'slave'. It will sound better."
Michelle let that pass. She wasn't so sure it wasn't a totally correct statement. "You said in the restaurant," she began, "that you wanted us to become your slaves. Do you really think that will happen?"
"It will happen."
"Sandy, perhaps. But I'm nobody's little slavegirl."
Marla smiled faintly. "No?"
"No."
For a minute neither spoke. Michelle, for her part, was mixed up inside. There was a tiny, nagging doubt that troubled her mind.
"Would you like to replace Sandy downstairs?" Marla asked. "I know that you don't want to tonight, but if you two were to return next weekend, would you want to straddle that mechanical shaft and feel it slide up into you?"
"It would be interesting."
"And if I kept you on that shaft all night?"
"It would be hard but... Well, it would be interesting."
"You mean exciting?"
"Yes, exciting. It would be sexually exciting to be like Sandy is now. I won't deny that."
"And if I were to keep you chained and naked all the next day? Would that also be exciting?"
Michelle paused. Part of her wanted to immediately admit that it would be, but part told her where this conversation was leading and she wasn't sure she wanted it to go that way. "I guess it would be exciting. I've spent twenty-four hours wearing handcuffs before. It can be exciting to know that you can't get those steel bracelets off."
"And if I were to keep you forever chained?"
"Now, wait a minute. That's different!"
"Is it? Is it really so different? Wouldn't you feel a contentment knowing that you never had to worry about the strife and problems of the world again? Wouldn't it be good to not have to make decisions? All would be done for you, all would be taken care of. Just as you would be taken care of and loved."
Michelle was again silent. It didn't seem right but she didn't know what to say to refute this argument. For, indeed, she had thought of just that possibility more than once. Sometimes when she was tightly bound and left alone in the apartment by Sandy, she thought of what it would be like to be constantly keep helpless. In her mind it was mostly tightly bound up for she really did like that. But a girl could be kept more practically chained. One time she had been left in the apartment for a day and a half, naked and wearing handcuffs on her wrists and ankles. Sandy had taken the keys, leaving Michelle are real prisoner. And it had left right, Michelle had to admit to herself. But she would not admit it to this woman.
"No need to continue this discussion, I can see the answer in your eyes," said Marla. "Another time we will return to this topic. Meantime, should we check on Sandy?"
They returned to the dungeon and the girl still riding that phallic shaft. They could hear her moans as soon as they entered. It was obvious that the girl was rapidly approaching another climax. Her eyes were shut, her body tense, her fingers trembling. The rope tied between her elbows and the overhead pulley held her upright. The shaft relentlessly continued it's pumping motion within her sex. As they watched she emitted a loud gasp and trembled all over. "Oh, lordy! Oh, lordy! My body!" she repeated several times before her voice trailed off.
"How many?" asked Marla.
"That is the third," replied Henry from his position standing by.
'Then it's time to add lubricant." "Yes, Mistress."
"The human body is very durable but I like to help it a little now and then," Marla explained as Henry retrieved a jar. Bending down, he applied some white cream to the sides of the dildo as it slid almost out. "That cream will make the dildo slide easier. It will also make her vagina tingle and hot."
After a minute Sandy's eyes opened half way. "Oh, Michelle... It's... So... Wonderful!" the naked and bound girl gasp out. "And sooooo terrible! Please stop. No, don't ever let it stop!"
"She has taken more than three orgasms in one session, has she not?" asked Marla of Michelle.
"I've seen her do half a dozen in little over two hours, if she's kept tightly bound and stimulated," admitted Michelle.
"I thought so. She does seem to be one highly sexual slavegirl." Marla fingered the metal clamps still adorning Sandy's nipples. Sandy moaned loudly. "She will soon be experiencing another climax," proclaimed Marla. "We will let her ride for a while."
It certainly did seem that Sandy had hardly floated down from one sexual high when she was beginning to show signs of becoming excited again. Michelle was fascinated. They had done things sort of like this, but this was so much more intense. That was the word Michelle settled on, intense. Marla's way of playing was more intense than theirs. It made her feel funny in the pit of her stomach to think about being in Sandy's place.
"How long?" Michelle asked.
"Until she reaches six," came Marla's reply. "After I get to know her tolerances better, we can try for more. For tonight, half a dozen will get her into the mood for some other games."
"Other games? You're doing a pretty heavy number on her now," replied Michelle.
"Other games," Marla repeated firmly. "The night is young and I did promise you an entire night of fun, did I not?"
"I'm not sure Sandy will last out the night if it's all like this."
"She will. I know what I'm doing."
Apparently Marla did know what she was doing. Sandy burst into her fourth orgasm in a very short time with every indication that it was just as intense as the first three.
"Henry, bring in Rebecca," commanded Marla.
Henry left the room.
"Yes, you did promise us that Rebecca would be here," said Michelle. "Where is she?"
"She is resting in her cage. She'll soon be here."
When she was brought in, it didn't appear that Rebecca had gotten much rest. The pretty, young redhead was naked. And she was bound rather tightly. Henry wheeled her in on a flat topped cart because the girl could not walk at all. Her wrists had been pulled up high behind her, crossed and tied with rope around her shoulders. Her arms were solidly held up between her shoulder blades. Her legs had been bound together at the ankles and above the knees. Then her ankles had been pulled up behind her towards her wrists in a very tight version of the hogtie with most of the actual strain taken by the ropes between the ankles and shoulders. The poor girl's body was laying on her side on the cart because it was bent into such an arch that she would have fallen over had she been placed on her stomach in the normal hogtie position. There was a gag in her mouth, a big red rubber ball to fill it up. To judge from her eyes, there was every appearance of her being in considerable discomfort.
"After spending the last three hours in a small cage and tied like this," began Mistress Marla, "I'm sure that Rebecca will be more than glad to come out and play with us. Henry, if you please."
Apparently Henry had already been given his instructions for he knew just what Mistress Marla desired. That, or they had performed this little game so many times that it was had become ritual. He picked up a length of rope and tied it to those taunt lengths joining the naked redhead's ankles and shoulders. It seemed to Michelle that he took quite a bit of time to make sure that the new rope was tied to the existing ropes in just the right place. And she wasn't sure why. But when he lowered pressed a button on the nearest wall and a chain lowered from a hole in the ceiling directly over the tightly trussed up redhead, she began to get an idea what was coming. At it was as she thought. The rope was passed through the end link of the chain then secured tightly to the ankle-shoulders ropes at another carefully selected position. When the button was pressed, Rebecca was hoisted into the air. The pain of being suspended by a hogtie was very apparent in her eyes and the gasping moans the emitted from behind her gag. Her eyes pleaded with her mistress but Michelle could also see that this slavegirl knew there would be no mercy.
"She can take this kind of suspension," said Marla, dryly. "Don't let her appearances mislead you. She has be so bound for long periods before this day."
"I'll take you word for that," Michelle said. Marla looked at Michelle but did not address her comment. "As you see," she continued after a pause, "Henry lifts her up, takes the cart out of the way, then lowers her to the desired height."
The "desired height" had Rebecca's bent body only a couple of feet off the floor. Henry left only to return a minute later with a chair. He placed it a foot or so in front of the hanging girl. Then he removed the strap gag.
"If you will make yourself comfortable in the chair," Marla invited Michelle. "And pull up your dress. I assume you have no panties on."
Michelle was amused by the assumption. But it was correct. She sat down on the chair and lifted her skirt until her pubic patch was clearly visible. It was only after she was perched on the edge of the chair with her private place only a few inches from the hanging girl, that she realized she hadn't even given a thought to the fact she was exposing herself to a strange man. No matter, she told herself, eager for what was coming next.
Henry lifted her chair forward and Rebecca, obedient to the unspoken orders, lifted her head. Quickly the slavegirl's face was buried into Michelle's pubic patch. She slumped backwards to make it easier for the bound girl to reach that part she wanted attention paid to. Suddenly there was a swift slash of the tongue that parted Michelle's lips and gave a tingling sensation to her clit. A shutter raced down her spine. It did feel good! Very good. As the tongue returned, she eased herself back even more and closed her eyes.
The naked and suspended girl did not hesitate. She was obviously in pain and perhaps thought that if she brought Michelle to a climax quickly it would end her suffering equally as quickly. She licked, teased and plunged her tongue into Michelle's sex with an expertise that spoke of long practice. Michelle was really enjoying this service when there was a sudden crack and Rebecca's head jerked back. Immediately it returned to it's task but Michelle keep her eyes open and was able to see the second impact of Mistress Marla's riding crop against Rebecca's bare flank. An angry red mark was left and the hanging girl again jerked with the pain. But she continued her oral sex as best and fast as she could.
Michelle sucked in breath as Rebecca's lips surrounded her clit and began a gentle sucking. This girl was so damned good at her job. Another crack echoed in the dungeon and the suspended body jerked. But she keep her face buried into Michelle's pubic hair and her lips and tongue busy.
Michelle was torn between her desire to close her eyes and surrender totally to the wonderful sensations in her sex, and the strange desire to watch that riding crop deliver pain to the naked body before her. There was something terribly exciting to know that the girl giving oral service to you was receiving pain as her reward.
It would have been easy to give in and let an orgasm come. But Michelle held back, forcing herself to concentrate on the red marks appearing on Rebecca's flanks and even on the sides of her breasts. The longer she held off that climax, the longer this wonderful scene would last. And it was wonderful for Michelle. She saw the helplessness and pain of this slavegirl and felt the soft tongue against her flesh, and knew that she wanted this to last forever.
But all good things come to an end. Marla brought the crop up squarely on the hanging breasts several times, evoking muffled shrieks of pain and jerkings of the captive body, and that was all Michelle could take. With a cry, she grabbed the back of Rebecca's head and shoved it hard against her sex. Her whole body shuddered and went rigid. When she came back to earth, the riding crop was no longer being used on the hanging girl, but she was still hanging before Michelle.
Michelle pushed herself up and straightened her skirt. For a while she stood there, fascinated with the way the ropes dug into Rebecca's flesh, with the limp and useless fingers high on her back. The arch of the girl's body was fascinating to observe, so much did it speak of her suffering. Finally she turned to Marla to ask, "Does she just stay hanging there? She did a good job on me, perhaps she deserves a reward?"
"Slavegirls are not rewarded for doing what they must," was Mistress Marla's reply. "As to how long she'll hang there..." Marla smiled. "As long as I wish it, of course."
"Of course," replied Michelle. It made sense in this world. Rebecca was, after all, only a slavegirl.
For a minute both girls watched Rebecca sway gently in mid-air, her head held down with the beautiful red hair almost touching the floor. The spell was finally broken when Henry coughed softly. Marla turned to receive his report, "Six, Madam.' "Good. Let's release her from the shaft and see what she has to say."
They made their way to where Sandy was impaled by the mechanical shaft. The shaft was still doing its thing but the girl looked as if she were exhausted. Michelle was glad for the rope pulling her friends elbows upward, it kept her from falling. Henry unfastened that rope after using the button controls to stopping the shaft and make it withdraw from the girl's sheath. It came out with a wet popping sound that was quickly followed by a small moan from Sandy. Her ankles were untied from the rings holding them spread and she was allowed to settle to the floor.
Using a small screwdriver, Henry removed the metal clamps, leaving Sandy's nipples swollen and enlarged. The naked girl shuttered and gasped at the pain of returning circulation. When Henry finished removing the ropes from her arms, they lay limp and lifeless by her side. Deep were the reddish rope marks, and painful the tingling reawakening of those limbs.
As soon as she could move her arms, Sandy crawled over to Marla's feet and took one high heel in both her hands. She knelt to kiss the shinny patent leather surface. "Oh, Mistress Marla! That was so wonderful! I was so helpless and so excited! It was wonderful."
"Henry, get some cuffs on this girl before she slobbers all over my shoes."
Henry hurried to produce a pair of silvery handcuffs, and a couple seconds later Sandy's wrists were firmly locked behind her back. A second pair secured her ankles in a very short hobble. "The cage. Madam?" asked Henry. "Yes," Marla said. Henry picked up the naked girl and carried her out of the room.
"We'll go see her in a moment," Marla said to Michelle. "Bui first maybe we should secure Rebecca in some fashion less likely to leave a permanent bend in her spine."
The redhead was lowered to the floor and the rope removed from her ankles, leaving her to unfold slowly from the hogtie. Then her legs were untied. But her arms were left bound high on her back, between her shoulder blades.
"Slave!" snapped Mistress Marla.
"Yes, Mistress?" replied Rebecca from her kneeling position on the floor.
"Get up and fetch the discipline hood. And one of the ball gags." "Yes, Mistress."
The naked girl fled from the room on legs still shaky from her long period in the hogtie and that suspension. Michelle was surprised that she could walk at all.
Marla began walking slowly towards the door with Michelle following. A short time later Rebecca returned with the requested items. Both the hood, a leather bag that filled over the head, and the ball gag were held in her mouth. Michelle could understand why since the poor girl's fingers were up by her shoulders and looked pretty lifeless anyway. But how the bound and naked girl had managed to get both the objects into her mouth was a puzzle to Michelle. She could only guess that Rebecca had plenty of practice at such things.
Marla took the objects and set them down on the cross piece of the stocks. "Turn around," she ordered Rebecca and the slavegirl obeyed. The rubber ball was fitted into her mouth, shoved in would be a better description, and then buckled tightly in place. Michelle noted that the ball was just the right size to fit behind the teeth and fill the mouth. She and Sandy had found that too big a ball only wedged against the teeth. It held the mouth open but half or more of the ball was outside the mouth. That meant the tongue could push against it. And it wasn't as effective as a ball that went behind the teeth and filled the mouth, pushing the tongue down. That really prevented speech and muffled any sound from the mouth.
The gag in place, Marla turned her attention to the discipline hood. It was, basically, a form-fitting leather bag, slit up the back, that covered the entire head from neck up. There were laces in back from near the top of the head down to the neck that allowed Mistress Marla to tighten the hood until it was smooth and firm all over the head. She knotted the laces tightly behind the girl's neck, then closed the thicker leather strap around the neck over the laces. A small padlock secured that leather strap. Michelle was sure that even if this girl had her hands free, she would be unable to removed the discipline hood. Rebecca was now silent, blind and had no hands to speak of. The tiniest hole below her nose allowed air in.
"Mistress Marla, Rebecca gave me quite a nice orgasm with her tongue. Is there anyway we could perhaps... return the favor?"
Marla lifted on eyebrow. Michelle expected some comment about slavegirls not being allowed orgasms but that was not what came. "Perhaps. But it might not be the way you're thinking."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see." Marla took Rebecca bare shoulder and led blind girl to the horizontal beam that was about mid-thigh on her. She tapped the inside of Rebecca's thighs and the slavegirl obediently spread her legs, wider and wider until she could barely hold her balance. Marla then tied a rope to each ankle and a ring set in the floor, obviously for such a purpose. The wooden beam now came to the slavegirl's hips. There were two small metal rings sown into the discipline hood, one at the neck in front and one at the top of the head. Marla tied a piece of rope to the one at the front of her neck collar then ran than down through a ring in the floor before the helpless girl. When she pulled on that, the naked slave had to bend forward. Soon her head was below her hips and she was laying across the wooden beam, her ass sticking up in the air.
"You will note that this positions her bottom perfectly for whipping?"
"Yes. But I thought..."
"That we were going to give her a climax? Out of gratitude to her having given you one? Well, she'll get a climax but it will be from being whipped, not from being pleasured by another girl."
"Whipped? How can that be? I mean, a whipping while you're helpless can be exciting, but... Will she climax just from that?"
"Watch." Mistress Marla took her riding crop and positioned herself to one side of the upturned and vulnerable bottom. Michelle could see the poor girl's pussy peeking out behind.
Certainly is a good position to whip a girl, she thought.
The first slash deposited a red mark on the left cheek. There was a jerk of the slave's leg muscles and a muffled cry of pain, but so well secured was the naked girl that she couldn't move. The second cut landed on the other cheek. A second muffled cry greeted it. Marla looked at Michelle and smiled.
The whipping continued slowly and steadily. The riding crop gave way to a short whip with three leather thongs that snapped against the captive skin delightfully. After fifteen strokes Michelle stopped counting. She could see that, although causing considerable pain, the slashing of these whips did not cut the skin. There were areas that were turning a dark purple against the general redness of the whole bottom.
"How many?" asked Michelle.
"How many until she reaches climax? Depends. Tonight, I think soon." Marla seemed amused by Michelle's concern for this slavegirl's sexual satisfaction. She went back to the wall and replaced the three-thonged whip with a leather strap. The leather was moderately stiff and about two inches wide. When Marla delivered the first stroke squarely across both cheeks, the cry that echoed from the walls was the loudest they had yet heard. Quickly the mistress slashed the bruised ass with three more cuts and three more cries of distress. Then she backed off and stood watching.
Rebecca, for all her restrictions, was fighting the bondage that held her. Her body strained to lift up. Her legs muscles jerked, and her fingers fluttered helplessly. She shook her head and shoulders from side to side wildly as if trying to evade the pain.
"Now," said Marla softly as she approached the bend over girl. The arm went up and then down, cracking the leather strap across tender and sore flesh. As the captive girl's body went rigid from the pain, Marla reversed the whip in her hand and shoved the handle up into her slavegirl's vagina. A dozen hard, quick strokes and the job was done. Rebecca was trembling all over, her hips straining hard against the wood, and a long, loud moan of unmistakable pleasure filled the room.
Marla dropped the whip to the floor and stepped back.
"See," she told Michelle. "She has her orgasm. Happy?"
Michelle only nodded. This was, indeed, not the manner she had envisioned for this slavegirl's orgasm. But she could not deny that this bound up girl was experiencing an orgasm, an intense one from all appearances.
"Good. I wouldn't want to disappoint a guest." Marla was the smiling hostess again. Let's have a drink then you can visit Sandy again."
Michelle followed Marla out of the dungeon, looking back from the door to stare in disbelief at the braised and battered flesh of the trembling girl still bound over the beam. Marla turned off the lights and they left the slavegirl alone.
Again Michelle, who usually only sipped a little wine, took a snifter of brandy and drank deeply, allowing the fiery liquor to shock her. The scene she had just witnessed was a little intense for her usual taste. But it was merely, she told herself, an extension of the games she and Sandy played. Merely the same kind of games carried a little farther.
"Her bottom," commented Marla, "is not damaged. It is sore and will pain her whenever she sits down for a while. But in a few days that pain will go away, and after a couple weeks there will be not a sign it ever happened. I will probably not whip her during that time. I prefer an unmarked bottom for my whip."
"We've never whipped each other that hard," was all Michelle could say. "Never."
"Of course. As I said, you're only beginning down a long, long path." Marla sipped at her drink. "Would you like to see Sandy?"
"Yes."
As they walked back to the dungeon area, Marla explained, "Sometimes I wish to punish a slavegirl but want something that lasts longer than a whipping, and is more... shall we say, mental? For that I have what I call a 'punishment cage.' A girl being so punished will stay in it for a day. Or two. In the worse cases, perhaps three days. Believe me, that gets to the most rebellious slavegirl."
They entered a door and found Henry standing just inside.
But what drew Michelle's attention was in the center of the room. The cage was made of shinning steel bars totally. The bottom, sides and top were all bars about one inch thick with two or three inches spacing between them. The bars were welded to each other where they met. The top was obviously the lid as it was hinged and had a hasp that could be padlocked. There was a metal ring encircling the center bar of the lid and that was attached to a chain going up to a hoist on the ceiling. The whole cage was suspended four feet off the floor by that chain.
But what was the most exciting was the size of the cage. It held Sandy and there seemed little space left over. The unfortunate girl had to lay on her side with her legs bent. Her hands were still cuffed behind her back as were her ankles. The small size of the cage prevented her from unfolding her legs or anything else. She would lay there until freed from the metal prison, and could only shift a little this way or that.
"Hi, Michelle! Isn't this just the cutest thing! If we had one of these in our bedroom, I could keep you a prisoner hovering over the bed all night long. Wouldn't that be wild!?"
"Yes, Sandy, it would be wild. Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. It's not comfortable but that's okay. You ought to try it."
"Sure." Michelle walked around the cage holding her friend, viewing it from all sides. Then she turned to Marla. "You keep girls in this cage for days on end?"
"Sure. It's not hard to slip them some food between the bars. And as to... Ah, necessities, you will note the drain in the floor? And the way the room is tiled, yes? Henry, demonstrate how we keep the girls clean."
Michelle didn't notice the hose until Henry picked it up and turned it on. The stream of water was hard and cold. Henry sprayed the caged girl down, walking from side to side to assure all parts of her were flushed.
"Hey! No! That's cold! Pleaseeee....!" cried out Sandy.
When it was done, Sandy was a sad-looking, very wet nudity. Her blonde hair hung through the cage bars, dripping water down.
"See, no mess," said Marla reasonably.
"Not too easy on the slavegirl, though," replied Michelle.
'Tut! The comfort of a slavegirl is not important."
Michelle bit back a retort, partly because she did not want to offend their hostess, partly because there was something attractive about this attitude expressed here. Michelle was beginning to understand that there were, indeed, different ways to play the type of games she and Sandy that thought they invented themselves.
"Would you care to try the cage, yourself?" asked Marla in the same tone of voice as someone asking if you would like another cookie.
Again that stab of desire lanced through her but was beaten back. Michelle would like to try that cage but instead she muttered a quiet, "Some other time."
"Indeed," was all that Marla said. She turned to Henry and gave some orders in a quiet voice that Michelle could not hear. Henry nodded. Then Marla left the caged and wet girl, and Michelle followed.
"It has come time for me to enjoy myself," offered Marla. "Your Sandy has had her orgasms. Six, in fact, more than most girls have in one evening. You have been brought to climax by my slave's tongue. And that slave has had her orgasm, kissed by the tender touch of the whip, as it were."
Michelle said nothing but wondered if she was expected to take some part in the "enjoyment" of Mistress Marla.
"I will have your Sandy brought to one of the bedrooms. She will be bound and she will service me."
"And I am to watch?" asked Michelle.
"Of course. You may watch if you wish. But there is one thing that I require. If you wish to remain in the bedroom, you will have to wear a pair of handcuffs. They can be on in front of you, but they will be real and locked. Mostly symbolic, I suppose, but something that I will insist on."
As they walked, Michelle did some quick thinking. Being bound up was something she had promised not to do tonight. But having her hands cuffed in front of her was not much in the way of bondage. Besides, she told herself, if Marla wanted to pull anything against her will, she could simply order Henry to make her a prisoner. Against his strength, she would have been helpless. "Okay," she said.
Marla smiled. The bedroom was almost as large as the entire apartment the girls shared. It was done in shades of charcoal gray and red, giving a strange look. There was one huge bed covered in red satin bedspread, and the floor was of the thickest, softest material Michelle had ever seen. It seemed more like fur than carpet. If there were windows, they were hidden behind closed drapes. Marla went about the room, lighting several large candles. Then she turned off the overhead light. The room took on a warm and sensual glow. Strange, but not at all unattractive. It was the sexual playroom straight out of a wild fantasy.
Marla unzipped the front of her leather body suit, revealing most of her breasts but leaving the nipples just hiding behind the black leather edge. Going to a dresser, she tossed her riding crop into a drawer and removed a pair of handcuffs. She returned to Michelle and stood there expectantly.
Michelle looked at the shinning steel bracelets with longing and perhaps a little fear. But she held out her hands. The metal circlets clicked shut and her wrists were joined in tight steel and only a couple inches apart.
"Sit over there. Watch but don't say a thing." Marla pointed to a chair in the far corner. Then she turned her back on Michelle, obviously expecting the girl to obey.
Michelle went to the chair and sat down. It was comfortable and easy to rest back in. Marla put one foot on the edge of her dresser and was unlacing her boot. When it came off, Michelle could see that it was calf high and have very high heels. Under the boot, Marla wore nylons.
The mistress of this house continued to disrobe as is she were alone, ignoring her handcuffed guest. The leather suit was peeled off and hung up. Revealed was a fine body now clothed only in a garter belt and nylons, which were also removed. Then Marla donned a very sheer black nightie, one that framed her lovely body and made her look more naked than she had when she was totally naked.
Marla lay on the bed, the perfect vision of a woman relaxing in her bedroom. Then they waited. But not long. There was a polite knock on the door then it opened. Henry entered, leading Sandy on a leash. Michelle sat up straighter. Her friend had been dried off, even her lovely long blonde hair. She was still completely naked, and her arms had been tied behind her back in a manner identical to the way Michelle had bound her in their apartment so very long ago. The elbows were tight together, throwing the nude girl's breasts out. Her legs were free but Michelle noted that there was some rope tied tightly around her waist and then between her legs. She could barely make out something of flesh-colored plastic under the ropes and guessed that a dildo was being held inside Sandy's pussy by those tight crotch ropes. A glint of metal in the candle light showed Michelle that the small metal clamps had been replaced on Sandy's nipples.
But the most impressive addition was the gag that Sandy wore. It was a harness of thin straps around her head to hold whatever was in her mouth in place. But attached to the front was an artificial penis sticking straight forward. Michelle guessed that the same kind of plastic penis was on the other side, filling her friend's mouth. She had heard of a penis gag but never seen one. The penis sticking out from this one was huge, at least eight inches if one. Michelle might have found the sight of her friend sprouting a penis from her mouth humorous had it not been so very erotic.
Sandy was escorted to the foot of the bed where she knelt down on the carpet without being told to. Henry had probably given her orders before they entered the room. He unhooked the leash from her gag and left the room.
For a while the three people in the room were frozen as each took in the scene. Sandy was breathing hard, obviously in some stage of sexual excitement. And Michelle could easily understand that. In addition to being a very sexual girl, Sandy now had a penis filling her pussy and another filling her mouth. She was probably very happy.
Marla's eyes were bright in the candle light as she slid forward. She sat on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, allowing the front of the nightie to open fully. From her corner position, Michelle could see that Sandy's eyes were sparkling, too.
It was a strange and wonderful scene in the flickering candle light. A bound and helpless slavegirl was about to service her mistress in a degrading yet erotic and wonderful way. All three people present were intensely into this game, living it without having to think, enjoying it immensely.
Mistress Marla's hand grabbed one of Sandy's breasts and squeezed. There was a gasp from the slavegirl and Michelle could see the fingernails digging into the soft flesh. Then the other hand grabbed the other breasts and both were being roughly kneaded. Sandy emitted little cries of pain and pleasure.
For a while the rough handling of Sandy's big breasts continued, both girls at the end of the bed growing more excited as it did. Then Marla stood up. With strong hands in the captive girl's hair, she turned the slave slightly so her back was to the observer in the corner. Then she ordered Sandy to bow her head down until the top of her head was against the carpet. That position was possible only by Sandy putting her weight on her head. From her position, Michelle could see Sandy's face between her legs and that ridiculous penis sticking straight at her.
It was expected by all present - suddenly the riding crop was in Marla's hand. A second later it was slashing across the upturned bottom, leaving mark after mark on the soft and virgin flesh. Sandy cried out through her nose but did her best to hold her pose. Again and again the leather instrument of pain cut and marked the lovely bottom until it was red with dark splotches.
With a cry, Marla dropped the riding crop and pulled Sandy's head up until the girl was kneeling again. Then Marla knelt herself in front of Sandy and pressed her body against hers. Michelle could see both of Marla's hands come around and clamp themselves onto the sore and tender ass cheeks. The fingernails dug in, and Michelle winched at how that must hurt. Without noticing, her handcuffed hands found their way down between her legs. The dress rode up as Michelle leaned back into the chair and her fingers sought her private place.
For a while Marla was content to grind her body against Sandy's and dig her fingers into the freshly battered flesh of her ass. There was pain from the nipple clamps where four breasts mashed together to match the pain from Sandy's burning bottom.
Then, suddenly, Marla was back against the end of the bed, her bottom on the red satin and her legs spread wide. She rested back on her elbows with her hands on her hips. Sandy needed no orders. She crawled forward until her penis gag was just touching the pubic mound of the mistress. One of Marla's hands came down to open her lips and guide the head of the huge dildo into her tunnel. After that Sandy took over, working her head back and forth, making the shaft plunge deep into this woman and back out again, so much like a man yet not quite the same. Sandy moved her head up and down to make the penis move inside Marla's vagina. She turned her head to make it rotate. And she shoved her head back and forth with a wild abandon.
It was not long before Marla cried aloud and arched her body upwards. She trembled as she climaxed intensely. Sandy kept up her motions, even faster than before. Marla cried out again and suddenly clamped both hands behind Sandy's head. She held the captive head hard against her pussy, driving the artificial penis deep inside her, as she shuddered with pleasure.
Michelle found herself sighing as her fingers toyed with her own sex. Just as Marla pushed away the bound slavegirl and felt back on the bed, Michelle's fingers brought her to a climax of her own.
Only the bound and naked slavegirl was denied her own satisfaction but that didn't last long. While both of the other girls present were busy with their own feelings, Sandy crawled over to the bed and threw on leg over the comer. With her body half on the bed and her legs straddling the satin covers, she pushed her pussy against the bed. The action made the dildo inside her, which had originally been put there only to assure that the slavegirl was in a proper state of sexual excitement to service Mistress Marla, press harder inside her. Soon her hips were pumping against the bed, battering her pussy against the satin covers. Not long after that Sandy was rolling on the floor, encased in her own intense ecstasy.
Within the candle-lit, sensual bedroom three women trembled and sighed with ecstasy.
Michelle yawned and sat up in bed. It was late for her to be getting up, even on a Saturday morning but the sun coming in the window had felt so warm and good that she stayed under the covers and enjoyed a period of time when nothing had to be done. Her thoughts, naturally enough, drifted to matters involving ropes and pretty, naked girls.
It had been one week that day since she and Sandy had visited Mistress Marla for one fantastic night in her dungeon. And in that red-walled, candle-lit bedroom. It had been a very interesting experience, Michelle told herself, with her usual tendency to understatement. That had been one wild night, Sandy had put it.
Both girls had admitted that it was enjoyable, and Sandy had suffered little in the way of after affects. She definitely was ready for another fun-filled night at Mistress Marla's. Michelle was not so sure. There was something more there than just some fun and games. There was something almost sinister about Marla. Not that she seemed to be evil, rather that she seemed to much more in control that Michelle felt comfortable with. The dark haired mistress seemed to exude confidence with her statements that she would one day own both of them as her slaves.
It had been near morning when the games finally came to an ending. Michelle woke to find that she was still sitting in the chair, her wrists still handcuffed before her and her dress still pulled up around her waist. She pulled it down and walked to the bed. Sandy lay there asleep, a picture of innocent and sexuality. Her young features were softened by sleep and the aftermath of sexual saturation. But her beautiful body was still bound, tight cords indenting the flesh of her arms, especially at the elbows. Those metal clamps still encircled her nipples.
Michelle looked closely in the flickering candle-light and could see the end's of Sandy's nipples protruding through the hold in the steel circle. They looked swollen.
But what delivered a pang of jealousy was the face that Sandy lay asleep in the arms of Mistress Marla. Together they lay, Marla's arms around the blonde in a possessive manner that Michelle knew too well. Don't be silly, she told herself, Sandy's just your friend. You don't own her. But still she felt uneasy to see her friend cuddled in the arms of another woman.
Michelle had tried to be quite but perhaps the handcuffs clinked ever so slightly. Marla's eyes opened slowly. For a while the two girls looked at each other in the dim yellow light. Neither said a word but each was well aware that it was Mistress Marla who held the naked and bound form of Sandy.
After a minute, Marla rose, dressed, this time in a silky nightgown, and called for Henry. When the big black man arrived after only a few seconds, he was ordered to prepare Sandy for her ride home. He picked up the still sleeping girl and carried her from the room.
Marla produced the tiny handcuff key and freed Michelle's wrists.
"I hope you enjoyed your visit," she said. "I did."
"Yes, I enjoyed it." Michelle paused as she handed the cuffs back. "As you say, we're only beginning on a long path. You've traveled it for some time."
"I am still a traveler. There is always more to see and do and feel."
"I'm sure."
Marla led Michelle to the front door where Henry was waiting with Sandy. The blonde girl was as she had been when delivered: naked, arms bound behind her back with elbows tightly corded together, ankles bound together. The metal clamps were off her nipples and Michelle noted how much they were swollen and rigid. Sandy leaned against the man and only slightly opened her eyes at the entrance of the other two woman.
"Next Saturday night," Marla said as she handed Michelle the coat Sandy had been wearing. "Eight o'clock."
The invitation had been put in its simplest terms yet seemed more like an order. This dominant woman seemed to never doubt that both of them would again show up on her doorstep.
"And is one of us to be bound up?" asked Michelle, a little miffed at the arrogance shown them.
"It would be nice," Marla replied, eyes roving down then up Michelle's very fine figure. "Very nice."
Michelle didn't reply. She was torn between the desire to do just that, to be this woman's slavegirl for the night, and the desire to be independent. She simply put the coat over Sandy's shoulders and buttoned it up.
"Thanks for a lovely evening," said Sandy sleepily as those who could walked to the car and the one couldn't was carried in strong male arms.
"Yes, thank you," Michelle said. "It was interesting."
"Until next time."
Then Marla was gone, leaving the two girls and Henry to stand in the cool dim dawn light. Michelle pulled the seat belt over Sandy and jerked it tightly. Then she went around to the driver's side and drove them away from that strange yet intriguing woman.
Michelle finished remembering that night a week before. Tonight the invitation to Marla's was again open. And yet, even after thinking about it all week and talking with Sandy, Michelle was unsure of what she wanted to do. Sandy seemed to take it for granted that they would go, and showed little care about whether it was she or Michelle who went all naked and bound up.
She didn't feel as if there was any physical danger. Mistress Marla might be a sadist but she was a woman of her word. They would both walk out the next morning as free women. But it was a little frightening to become the captive of a woman who so exuded control, power and assurance in all she did. Michelle had finally come to the conclusion that what she feared most was loosing Sandy to this strange woman.
There was no question that Sandy had been greatly impressed with her night in Marla's castle. That was what they came to call the large house in the foothills. And it seemed appropriate, for didn't all castles have a dungeon? But castle or no, the blonde with the great love of things sexual and of being a captive had been greatly impressed with dark haired dominant. Michelle dismissed her uneasy feelings as jealousy, and told herself that she wished only happiness for Sandy. If Sandy was happy being a weekend slavegirl of this Mistress Marla, then what was wrong with that?
Michelle sat up in bed and stretched like a contented cat. Can't stay in bed all day, she told herself. Besides there's a little task to attend to.
Sandy was exactly as Michelle had left her the night before, to the surprise of neither of them. When Michelle ties up a girl, she stays tied. In this case, Sandy was laying in the middle of the front room floor, in a hogtie, admittedly not an extremely tight one, but a very secure one nevertheless. Her wrists were crossed behind her, her ankles crossed and both tied that way. There was a linkage rope between the wrists and hands tight enough to keep her legs from unfolding. The beautiful blonde was naked, as usual for their games, and wore no gag this time. Normally, when tied like that Sandy would have been able to roll around, even crawl from room to room, in an awkward, tiring fashion. But Michelle had fixed her so that she would remain exactly in the same spot all night. The girls had screwed metal rings into the floor in the center of each wall of the front room. Michelle had tied one end of a long rope to one ring, ran the rope over to Sandy's waist and looped it around there a couple times, fairly tightly, tied a knot, then passed the rope over to the opposite wall. When the rope was tied snugly, the naked girl was trapped in the middle of the floor. She couldn't roll over nor crawl anywhere.
"Hi, Michelle. Had a lovely night, how about you?" asked Sandy brightly from her position on the floor.
"I slept fine. Probably more comfortably than you."
"Well..." said Sandy with a smile, "I won't argue that point. But I had such wonderful dreams. I dreamed that I was hogtied all night and every time I woke up, I was!"
Michelle had to smile back at her friend. Sandy's love of bondage and most any kind of sexual act was incredible. "I'll fix breakfast. You want to be untied how or later?"
Sandy frowned as if in deep thought before coming up with, "Never. I never want to be untied."
"You're a silly girl. But I'll leave you tied a while longer." As Michelle fixed breakfast, watching out of the corner of her eye as Sandy struggled and rocked back and forth in the ropes, she began to think again about the coming evening. And she was still unsure about what to do.
When Sandy was finally untied, she insisted on being handcuffed, even in only in front, while they had breakfast. Between bites, Michelle brought up something that had been on her mind. "Sandy, do you think that lately it's been you who is tied up much more than me?"
"I guess so. But I don't mind it, if you don't. You seem to like to tie me up," she teased.
"Yes, I do. But I also like to be tied up. And I haven't been getting much of that lately." Michelle paused, then continued. "Maybe you could get back at me for leaving you hogtied all night with an extra tight hogtie this afternoon. Say four hours...?"
Sandy brightened up. "We could let you be the one who is tied up tonight at Mistress Marla's!" "I don't know."
"Oh, come on. It will be fun. Believe me, it will be fun. She's so good with the ropes. And that Henry is a real hunk, isn't he?"
"I don't know. She gets a little heavy into the S&M. Did you see the whipping she gave Rebecca?"
"Oh, did I ever! That lucky girl came and came just from being whipped. And when Marla shoved that whip handle up her! Oh, I thought I was going to climax again right then."
"I'm not sure I would like to be whipped, to a climax or otherwise."
"I whipped you about three weeks ago. Remember? With that belt. And pretty hard, too."
"I remember." And she did. It had been exciting. The leather belt smacking into the soft flesh of her bottom had made her feel so very helpless. And excited. It had been good.
"And, besides, I'll stay untied to make sure you're okay. Please...?"
Michelle sighed. She really loved her friend and it was hard to say no. So she didn't. "Okay, I'll go tied up. At least I'll get to be tied for a while."
"Oh, goodie!"
The drive was the same, house was the same, but the girl driving and the girl sitting in the right hand seat, a coat covering her nudity and tightly bound arms, was different. Michelle shifted her bottom to try and find a little more comfortable position but none was to be found. Her arms were bound behind her with the elbows tightly corded together and it was hard to rest against the seat with their bulk behind her. Sandy, with her usual pixie sense of humor, had not depended upon the seat belt to hold Michelle to the seat, but had wrapped rope around her waist and the back of the seat, holding Michelle quite firmly to the car. Her ankles had also been tied, and Sandy had pulled up the coat until all of Michelle's lovely legs were exposed.
But the worst part of the drive was not the discomfort from tight ropes, not apprehension of the coming evening of torture, but the constant fear that Sandy's none-to-perfect driving would result with a policeman stopping them. It would be a little hard to hide her bound legs or the rope around her waist, even if her bound arms and nudity didn't show.
But they were lucky this time, no policeman pulled them over. Henry was waiting at the front door. "Mistress Marla said to escort you two to the dungeon," he said formally. "She will be awaiting you there."
Sandy pointed back to the car and giggled. "Think you can carry Michelle? She can't quite make it by herself."
"Of course, Ma'am." With that he untied the ropes around Michelle's waist and easily lifted the bound girl from the car.
The dungeon looked about the same as it had before, filled with ropes and whips and instruments of torture. Mistress Marla was, indeed, waiting for them, dressed in a lovely black leather skirt that showed off most of her long legs. She wore high heels that made her nyloned legs lovely, but that was all. She was topless and didn't seem to even notice that she was exposing her breasts to two girls she really didn't know too well, as well as her male servant. Henry, apparently used to such activities, simply deposited Michelle before Marla without a word or the slightest hint he found anything out of the ordinary.
Michelle teetered on her bound ankles and high heels and noticed that Marla was standing next to the phallic shaft that Sandy had ridden to glory the week before. A thrill raced through the roped girl at the thought of her riding that shaft tonight.
"Welcome, girls. I'm so glad you decided to come again." Marla smiled sincerely. "We'll have such fun tonight."
"I'm sure we will," agreed Sandy. Michelle kept quiet. Bui inwardly she agreed.
"Shall we get started?" Marla took a step to Michelle and unbuttoned her coat. Casually tossing the coat onto a pillory, she walked around her victim for that night, smiling approval at the soft curves, full breasts and shapely legs. She tested the tight cords around the wrists and elbows with one hand, finding no fault with them.
"Henry, the clamps," Mistress Marla said quietly.
Michelle felt a shiver at those words. This was it, the beginning, the point of no return. From this point on she would be the prisoner of this woman, to be played with, teased, forced to perform all kinds of sexual acts, and even tortured. She swallowed hard and forced herself to say nothing as Henry presented the small circular clamps to his mistress. Marla needed only to flick each nipples a bit to assure they were rigid and ready for their clamps. They were already erect in anticipation and fear.
First her left nipple was encircled by the metal clamp, it's hardness slightly cold against her flesh. Marla tightened down the tiny screw and Michelle felt very tiny teeth bite her flesh. It wasn't too painful at first, more a minor sting. But the screwdriver turned slowly and she felt the sharp bits of metal dig in. At the same time the clamp exerted a pressure all around the base of her nipple, a tightness that increased with each turn of the screwdriver.
"That's pretty tight," she found herself saying as the pain reached the point where she sincerely begin to regret allowing herself to become the victim. "That hurts."
Marla ignored her. The clamp tightened again and Michelle gave out a yelp of pain. "That really hurts!" she exclaimed. Again she was ignored. Again the tiny screw was turned half a turn and the pain became much worse. Michelle felt as if tiny teeth were trying to bite off her nipple. And it was squeezed in the metal jaws much like the strongest clothespins she and Sandy had ever tried on each other. Michelle looked down and was surprised to see the end of her captured nipples blossoming out of the clamp. It looked swollen and taunt. She understood why Sandy had been blowing on those clamps, they burned her flesh.
Marla turned her attention to the other nipple, one quite erect and ready for its collar of pain. When this new clamp was about the same tightness, Marla returned her attention to the first one and tightened it down another turn.
"Hey! Stop that! That really hurts. Please turn it back!" Michelle was biting back harsher words for the pain shooting into her breasts from those tortured nipples was very real and more than she had expected.
Marla ignored the words and tightened the right clamp until both were hurting about equally. Then she nodded to Henry and stood back. The big black man picked up Michelle and carried her a short distance to one of the wooden posts near one wall of the dungeon. He set her down a couple of feet from the post. Michelle stood with uncertain balance on bound ankles and blew on her nipples. That small wind did nothing to stop the burning pain. Henry returned with rope in his hands. He tied one end of a rope to the wrist ropes and bent Michelle at the waist. Down and down her head went until she was looking at her knees and afraid she would fall over. And she might of had it not been for Henry's hands upon her body. He picked her up and moved her forward until she could feel the wood pressing against her back. Then the ropes were being wrapped around her wrists and the post and Michelle gulped.
When the ropes lashing her wrists to the post were knotted and done with, more rope was wrapped around her elbows and the post, locking her arms firmly to the post. It was very awkward with her head straight down but she knew she wouldn't be falling over. Her arms were too solidly welded to the wooden post to allow that. This was a most unusual position to be tied in and Michelle was both a little fascinated by it and a little afraid. She quickly found that she could only bend her knees a little bit, wiggle her bottom, and was otherwise robbed of movement.
In an upside down view of the dungeon, Michelle could see Mistress Marla approaching, a riding crop being tapped against the palm of one hand and a smile on her face. Behind her Sandy was following with interest on her face. Behind them both, she could see the mechanical dildo shaft she had been hoping to be riding now by now.
"Slavegirls, Sandy," Marla said conversationally, "have to be made to know who is the boss and what their place is. This is important."
"Yes, Mistress."
"This slave," she said, indicating Michelle's upturned rump with a light tap of the whip, "needs to learn that lesson. She thinks she is not a slavegirl."
Suddenly there was a burst of fire in Michelle's bottom and she cried out at the stinging pain. "Ohhh! That hurt! Stop that!"
A second burst of pain greeted her protests, quickly followed by a third and fourth. In less than five seconds, Michelle's bottom had received two hard swats on each cheek, each leaving its red kiss on the tender flesh.
"A slave girl has to not anticipate what her treatment will be," continued Mistress Marla. "Nor to hope for one favored punishment over another." The lecture was accented with two additional, harder swats. Michelle wiggled her bottom but could do nothing to remove it from the range of the riding crop. "I'm sure this slavegirl expected something quite different."
Michelle ruefully and silently agreed. In thinking about what tonight would be like, there had been only visions of that pumping shaft sliding in and out of her vagina, giving her orgasm after orgasm that she could not stop. This was certainly something different.
The whipping continued. It was worst than anything Sandy had ever given her, and probably worst than anything she had ever given Sandy. Yet it was not unbearable. The pain as very, very real and Michelle had to bite her lip to keep from crying out too loudly. But it was within her ability to stand.
Two more strokes cut at her bottom. The naked and bent over girl held her tongue and promised that, no matter how severe the pain became, she would not plead for mercy. It was a matter of pride. Sandy could be expected to give in and let vent to her protests and pleas from the start. But she was not Sandy and she would show this beautiful mistress that she had pride.
"This slavegirl wishes to hold her tongue," continued Marla's lecture, "and not cry out too loudly, nor beg for the whipping to stop. It would, of course, be easy to make her beg. I would only have to use a cruder whip with all the force of my arm, and she would see that this is merely child's play compared to the pain she could be given."
"You won't hurt her, will you?" asked Sandy with some concern. But it was hard to tell just how concerned the blonde was, so obvious was her excitement.
Marla gave Sandy a sharp look. "What is punishment if not pain? Of course, I will hurt this slavegirl. I already have. And she will experience much more before the night is over."
"You're not going to whip her all night long, are you?"
"Only as much as needed."
"Only as much as needed? How much is that?"
"Depends on her. Enough to make her see that she is a slavegirl. Perhaps if she were just to admit it..." Marla let the suggestion trail off. She was sure that Michelle had heard it.
So this is what it is to be tonight, thought Michelle. A test of wills. She will push me until I give in and admit to being a slavegirl. And I, she admitted to herself, will push back by not giving in. Well, at least it's nice to know that I can end it anytime I wish simply by saying that I'm a slavegirl. Maybe a promise to serve my mistress would help, too.
Suddenly another flash of pain told her that the whipping was continuing. She bit her lip and tried to pull her arms free from the ropes holding them over her head. But it was no use. Her arms were tightly held together by the original ropes she came with, and welded to the wood by those Henry had added. It was, indeed, a very awkward position. Her head was forced towards her knees by the way her shoulders were hard against the wood. She could see her knees flex with each blow.
And she wondered just how long this could go on. She wasn't gagged, she could talk. But she had been whipped across the bottom half a dozen times already and she had been in this house of pain only ten minutes. It could well be a long, long night.
The riding crop kissed the soft flesh on the back of her thighs just below her bottom cheeks and she gasped aloud. It was a different sort of pain from that on her bottom. A worse pain. Then the crop cut her other leg. A pause and then, from a new position to one side of the tied up girl, a new pain as the riding crop smacked into the side of her right breast. "Ohhhh! Noooo!" Michelle cried. Visions of her lovely breasts battered and black and blue flashed across her mind. And the very thought of such pain make her resolve waver. "Perhaps now she is getting some idea of what kind of pain can be given a slavegirl." Marla smiled at Sandy. "Henry, the next position."
Henry move efficiently to untie Michelle's arms from the post. But the new position Marla ordered was certainly no better. She was placed on her back on the hard floor and her legs lifted up against the wood. The same ropes that had held her arms to the post now held her legs. From sore bottom to her heels, Michelle's legs were straight and fast against the wood. As she lay there on bound arms, she hoped that the discomfort of this bondage position would be the punishment, nothing else. She was aware of her breasts being easily accessible to the riding crop.
But Marla's first target was different. "A slave can be whipped in many places," she told Sandy. "Including the bottom of her feet."
Michelle had only half a second for that statement to sink in before the crop came down hard in the middle of one upturned foot. She immediately jerked her toes towards the post to protect the tender bottoms of her feet. And she cried out at the unexpected pain.
Marla moved around to the other side and measured her crop against the other foot. Michelle curled her toes in an attempt to make the sole of her foot less of a target. Marla smiled and nodded to Henry. The servant casually took some thin cord from his pocket and loop it around her big toes. When that was cinched down there was a enough cord hanging down to reach the ropes lashing her knees to the post. It was passed around that rope and tightened. Despite her best efforts, Michelle's feet were uncurled and her toes pulled down. When Henry tied the knot, her feet were flat and perfect targets.
Marla brought the crop down upon the right foot. Michelle screamed. It was a small scream but one that she could not hold back. That blow had been the crudest of them all, causing her more pain then she could ever want. Another followed almost immediately and she screamed again. Marla went around to the left side and struck that foot squarely on the sole. Michelle cried loudly, "Stop it! Oh, that hurts so much! Please....!"
"Slaves will always exaggerate the pain," Marla said. "They must think that Mistresses are easily fooled." She accented her statement with another downward slash. Michelle threw her head back and whined.
"If I were to give Henry the crop, he would undoubted do a better job of whipping the soles of her feet. He can, you know, hit much harder than I can."
Michelle shook her body in anger at the rope holding her prisoner for this pain. She desperately hoped that Marla would not give the whip to that big man. This was painful but she knew it could get worse.
"A slavegirl must know her place. Are you a slavegirl?"
Marla asked sweetly, while teasing the bound toes with the end of the riding crop.
Michelle held her silence. "As I expected. A girl like this will not give in so easily." Marla seemed unconcerned by her slavegirl's obstinateness. "Let us show her some more pain and then move on to another part of a slavegirl's training." Kneeling down beside the captive girl, Marla positioned her whip directly over one clamped nipple. "Oh, no!" cried Michelle. "That will hurt too much!"
"Pain doesn't last," replied Marla. "But the memory of it does." And she brought the crop down hard squarely on the breast.
Michelle was stunned silent for a moment, then she screamed. There was fire bursting in her breast and pain shooting straight into her body. More pain than she had ever known. It felt as it that end of her nipple had exploded where the crop had impacted.
"She is in pain," said Marla, understating the obvious. "And she's beginning to see what can be done to a helpless slavegirl."
"You won't hurt her too much?" asked Sandy, a little more sincerely concerned this time.
"How much is too much? Remember Rebecca? Pain drove her to an orgasm."
Sandy was silent, uncertain how to answer the puzzling question.
Marla tapped the swollen nipple of the other breast and Michelle whined. She tried to turn her body aside to protect the intended target but was easily pushed back down by Marla. The crop teased the already pained nipple. Then it was brought slowly up until it posed ready for its pain- giving downswing. Michelle whined with fear. Then the crop moved suddenly and pain exploded in her breast. It was terrible and the naked girl screamed.
"A crop across the breasts doesn't usually hurt a girl that much," Marla said. "But when the clamps are on her nipples, that magnifies the pain many times." She looked down at the whimpering and gasping girl. "See how beautiful she is when she's in pain?"
For a while they all looked at the withering form on the floor. And none would deny that there was a strange beauty in her pained expression and the way she struggled.
Finally, Marla spoke again. "She had felt pain delivered sharply and quick. Now let her experience another form of pain. Henry, the horse."
Sandy looked puzzled and Michelle only grimaced. She didn't know what this "horse" was but she knew it would mean pain. And she was still trying to come to grips with the unexpected shock of what was her first real whipping. Henry untied the ropes holding her legs to the post and helped her to her feet. The soles of her feet were sore but not nearly as much as she had expected. She was able to stand on them. They hurt, but she could walk. The ropes on her arms were left in place, as were the metal clamps holding her nipples captive.
The horse was simply two wooden boards placed edge to edge to form a wedge pointed upwards. Michelle looked at that wooden edge for a long time before it dawned on her how it could be used as a punishment device. When she did, she gasped. "No, you aren't going to put me on that thing!" she cried in genuine fear.
"It's not really all that bad. At least not at first." Marla ran a finger lightly along the edge where the two wooden planks came together. They formed about a ninety degree angle but it looked terribly sharp to Michelle. "Henry, please lift her up."
Henry's strong hands were suddenly on her waist and she felt herself being lifted into the air. As Marla took one leg and helped fit it over the edge. Michelle jerked her leg out of Marla's grasp. "No, I won't let you do it!" she exclaimed.
"Remember the pain of the riding crop, dearie?" asked Marla casually. "I have other whips that will hurt much worse than a riding crop."
The threat froze Michelle. She didn't now what to say or do. The threat of more pain was terrible. More terrible, it turned out, than her fear of being placed upon the horse. She allowed her leg to be lifted over the wooden edge. Henry slowly lowered her until she could feel the sharp wood pressing against her pussy. Marla busied herself with tying a loop of rope around each of the terrified girl's ankles. Those ropes went out to large rings in the side walls and forced Michelle's legs spread apart. Then Henry lowered her until her entire weight was upon her sex.
"Oh! Please, no! That hurts. It's cutting into me!" Suddenly Michelle's protests stopped as she discovered that she could push down with her bound hands on the edge and ease some of the pain in her pussy.
"Slave has discovered how to lift herself up," Marla said casually. "We must stop that. Henry."
A rope was tied to those around her wrists and a few seconds later she felt her arms being pulled up behind her. When her palms left the wooden edge, her pussy settled down onto it. "Ohhhhhhh! That hurts!" Michelle cried out. Then she looked right into Marla's eyes and added, "Please, Mistress."
"You're learning. But uttering one 'mistress' does not make a slavegirl make. You have a lesson to learn. A lesson in pain."
Mistress Marla smiled as Henry tied off the rope. Michelle was bent forward and her hands about the level of her shoulders. The position would have been uncomfortable even without the edge cutting into her softest, most private place.
"Now we let her enjoy the horse for a while," Marla said. "Would you like a drink, Sandy, dear?"
"Okay!" Sandy never turned down a drink. Before following Marla and Henry out of the room, she went over to her friend and put one hand on an outstretched and strained thigh. "It's really not that bad, Michelle."
"How the hell would you know? You're not up here. It hurts! I'm being cut in half!"
"Mistress Marla says it's not really bad until you've been up there for a few hours," Sandy consoled.
The thought of a few hours like that brought a moan to Michelle's lips. When she looked sideways, Sandy was gone and she was alone in that room of torture.
Michelle called out but she just knew that the walls were soundproof and no one would hear her. She wiggled and tried to shift her hips, but could find no position that didn't hurt like blazes. The wood was a terrible, sharp pain that seemed to be cutting her right down the middle. She struggled but the ropes continued to hold her and it only caused her more pain. Finally she settled down when she realized that not moving was the best way to minimize the pain.
It was a very long hour, seeming more to the naked and helpless girl like the whole night. She moaned and sought comfort where there was none to be found. She cursed herself, then cursed Mistress Marla. Then she cursed Sandy for allowing this to happen to her. But during those moments when she wasn't cursing everyone, she had to admit that this pain was bearable. Not pleasant, indeed, it was very unpleasant, but not impossible either. A part of her mind knew that the whipping with the riding crop and this ride on the horse were nowhere as painful as Marla could have done to her. Yet they were more than she and Sandy had ever done to each other. Much more. She remembered some of the really rough bondage she had put Sandy in, and the very uncomfortable ways that Sandy had retaliated. There had been real pain in those games, often augmented by spankings and clothespins on nipples. They had even played around with a little candle wax dripped on the bare breast of a helpless girl. Yes, the pain had been real but this was something else again.
For a while she wondered if she was going to be there all night. And she wondered what Sandy was doing. She trusted her friend but also knew that the blonde was no rocket scientist. Then, when she had thought about all these other things, she wondered to herself why it was this harsh treatment was also exciting. Not that her pussy was juicy and hot and ready for sex. It was squashed, throbbed with pain, and didn't feel the least bit sexy. But she was fascinated by what was happening to her.
Michelle had been attracted to this Mistress Marla, she could not deny it. She just figured it was because this woman seem so masterful, so in control. It just seemed right that Marla should treat any slavegirl, even Michelle, this way. Slaves were to be punished, confined and subject to the whims of their owners.
With a jerk of her head, Michelle stopped that line of thinking. Pretty soon, she told herself, she would begin to believe this nonsense about being a slavegirl.
When the door opened it was Marla alone. She circled the suffering girl, noting the tension in her legs, the pain clearly etched on her face, and the slight trembling of muscles long stressed by tight ropes and a contorted position. When she spoke it was to ask a question.
"Do you have anything to tell me?"
Michelle held her tongue.
"No matter," continued Marla. "You will admit that you are a slavegirl. Perhaps not tonight, perhaps not tomorrow. But you will. This is only a lesson to teach you what it is like to be a slavegirl."
"Please let me down." Michelle spoke the words slowly, trying very hard not to make them sound like either a plea or an order.
Marla pursed her lips and tapped the side of her nyloned leg with the riding crop. "Your request," she began, "has, of course, no bearing on the matter. What happens to you is what I want to happen, not what you wish. And right now I wish to make you feel pain."
"I am," Michelle said. If she was going to say anything else it was cut off by the swish of the crop cutting the air, followed by a loud smack as it impacted against bottom.
Marla walked slowly around to the other side where she carefully positioned herself and let fly another stroke across the other side of an already sore bottom. Michelle moaned.
"Do you believe that I could give you more pain?"
"Yes." Her answer was simply a statement, lacking any feeling.
"Do you believe, really believe, that I could make you suffer terrible pain all night?"
"Yes."
"And all tomorrow? And all the next day, if I so wished to?"
"Yes." "Good."
Marla smiled at her captive girl and stepped forward to kiss her gently on the side of her face. "I will send Henry to untie you." She began to leave the room but paused at the door. "I have another lesson for you."
"How..." Michelle said with a whine. "How long have I been up here?"
"How long? Only an hour, hardly a real punishment. The real pain doesn't start until after the first three hours."
"I suppose you know first hand?" It was hard to keep any sarcasm out of her voice. But a girl who's pussy is throbbing with pain has trouble maintaining a conversational tone of voice.
"Yes, I have. I spent six hours on that same horse one night. After about three hours I had to ask Henry to gag me so I would stop screaming."
Michelle was silent. She believed this woman. It was incredible but believable in this house of pain.
Marla left without another word. Michelle sighed. Ten long minutes later Henry came in. First her ankles were untied. Then her arms were lowered and she could straighten for the first time in what had seemed like ages. Henry easily lifted her off the wooden torture instrument and set her on the floor. But trembling muscles betrayed her and she would have fallen to the floor had not Henry's strong hands been on her waist. Picking her easily up, he carried her away from the horse.
Their destination was a nicely appointed bedroom decorated in shades of blue with lavender accents. There was a comfortable looking queen sized bed, soft carpeting, and other furnishings as you would expect in an expensive home. There were also, Michelle noted as Henry placed her on the bed, certain additions not normally found in homes. The bed had a large metal ring in the ceiling directly above it. There were several rings set into each wall, and a small pillory rested in one comer. Michelle puzzled about that since it seemed rather small. Then she realized that a girl with her head and wrists in that pillory would have to be kneeling down and bend over. There would be no other position she could assume, even if her legs were not bound.
Henry unknotted the ropes binding her arms with surprisingly gentle hands. Michelle gasped as he unpeeled the ropes from her flesh, creating a not-unfamiliar mixture of pain from returning circulation and relief at having arms free from those horribly tight ropes. For a long while she just sat there, her arms laying limply in her lap as life came back to them. Henry stood by like a gentleman, waiting for this naked girl to recover from her ordeal. When she felt stronger, Michelle tried standing only to find that she was holding her legs apart. Her pussy was throbbing with a dull ache from an hour on that wooden edge, and she was afraid it was damaged. Gingerly she walked around the room, not caring that a man was watching her as her fingers gently explored the tender flesh. Nothing seemed to be wrong, it just ached. Finally she returned to the bed and sat down.
"Is this the end of my torture for this evening?" she asked Henry with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.
Henry slowly shook his head negatively. He went to the dresser and removed a pair of handcuffs from the top drawer.
"Oh..." was all Michelle could think to say. She held out her hands before her and was surprised when Henry clicked the cuffs shut on them. She had expected that her hands would be secured behind her back, at least. This was terribly mild bondage for Mistress Marla.
With gentle hands, Henry pushed her back on the bed so she was laying on her back. Then he fetched a short chain and two small padlocks from the dresser. Standing on the bed for a second, he locked one end of the chain to the ring in the ceiling. Then he lifted Michelle's hands and locked the other end to the center link of her handcuffs. She found herself with arms stretched above her but not tightly. Her arms would stay straight up but they weren't hurting.
Henry left. For a while Michelle simply enjoyed the comfort of laying on satin covers and hardly being bound at all. After a few minutes it struck her that she didn't have to lay there. Tucking her legs under her, she found that she could easily kneel on the bed, and even stand up. She could not free her hands, nor leave the bed, but she was comfortable.
Michelle was kneeling with her hands before her face when the door opened and Rebecca entered.
The beautiful redhead was as naked as Michelle, and like Michelle, she was chained in a manner that allowed her considerable movement yet kept her prisoner. Her hands were handcuffed before her and her ankles were joined by a set of leg irons. The chain between her feet was of a length that forced her to take short steps, but she could walk around. Without a word, Rebecca went immediately to the bed. She said nothing but motioned that Michelle should lay on her back. Michelle, suspecting what was to come, complied.
"I've just been sitting on the horse," she explained. "I don't know if my pussy will work."
"Silly girl," said Rebecca, "a girl's pussy is tougher than you think. You'll be all right."
Noting that this was the first time Rebecca had spoken, she took the opportunity to ask a question that was on her mind. "Are you really a slavegirl? I mean, are you really owned by Marla?"
"Mistress Marla," Rebecca said with emphasis on the first word, "is my owner. I am a slavegirl. And before you ask, I love it."
"What! Every time I've seen you, you've been in tight bondage. And usually being punished. You like that?"
"Of course. I'm a natural born slavegirl. That's it, just lay back. Now spread your legs. Some girls are simply slavegirls, whether they realize it or not. That's good. Now let me get between your legs."
Michelle was still worried about the condition of her sex. "I'm not sure you should do anything there. It's still aching from that horse. I was up there for a whole hour."
"I've ridden the horse for six hours at a time," Rebecca replied as she knelt down between Michelle's spread legs.
"Six hours! That must have been terrible."
"Well, I was sure that my little puss won't ever be good for sex again. But it was. And you're will be, too."
Michelle was going to ask some more questions, but just then Rebecca spread the lips of her sex apart and attacked the soft flesh within with her tongue. "Oh! That tingles. Oh!"
Michelle was surprised to find that her pussy responded with pleasure at the touch of another girl's tongue. With surprising speed, a fire was lit in her loins by the skillful tongue and lips of this self-confessed slavegirl. Soon Michelle was moaning with pleasure.
"Oh, that's nice. You're good." Then she managed another question between the moans of pleasure. "Are you always tied up?"
Rebecca lifted her head to reply. "Not always. Maybe only four or five hours a day, average. But I'm always kept in some form of restraint. When it's not ropes, it's handcuffs, chains, straps, or tape. And sometimes I spend all day in the stocks or pillory."
"You... Oh! You mean you're never free?" "Right. Never. I'm a slavegirl." With that final word she returned to her tongue-lashing of a freshly punished nudity.
Things were going very well and Michelle was very close to a climax, admittedly a strange one with her pussy feeling pleasure and pain at the same time, when the door opened again. This time it was Sandy.
But, as Michelle noted through half closed eyes, Sandy had not kept her promise to stay unbound for the evening. She was naked, her arms were bound behind her back with the elbows together, she was wearing leg irons, and she was looking at the two naked girls on the bed with sparkling eyes. She was also wearing two metal clamps similar to Michelle's, and that penis gag with the artificial phallus sticking straight out in front. She approached the bed and pushed against Rebecca's side with her gagged head.
Rebecca, seeing who was there and how she was equipped, rolled over Michelle's leg to position herself with her hands holding one of Michelle's breasts. Quickly her tongue was attacking the end of the nipple where it stuck through the clamp. Michelle moaned louder.
Sandy, meantime, had not been idle. She had crawled upon the bed and was positioning herself, as best she could with bound arms, between Michelle's legs. Then she slide down until she was laying on the bed with her head pulled up so the penis gag was sticking straight at Michelle's pussy. Then Sandy wiggled and struggled to move her body forward, succeeding mostly by digging her knees and toes into the covers. The head of the phallus pushed against Michelle's slit for a few seconds then was inside the moist tunnel. Sandy pushed herself up until she had the phallus buried deeply into Michelle before beginning a very skillful job of imitating a male organ performing sexual intercourse.
Michelle was soon moaning very loudly and on the verge of orgasm when Rebecca threw her body over Michelle's chest, pinning her to the bed. A second later Michelle crashed into a massive orgasm and would have bucked Sandy out of her had not Rebecca been holding her down. Instead she wrapped both legs around Sandy's head and squeezed hard.
Mistress Marla, from her position just inside the door, watched the scene with a smile on her face. "A mistress gives pain, a mistress gives pleasure," she said quietly. "Michelle will make a most excellent slavegirl."
4
Rape Never Felt So Good
It was only a block from Michelle's and Sandy's apartment to the beach, and Michelle often walked that short distance. The ocean was a special place to her and she often came there to stare out at the massiveness and timelessness of those surging waves and that dark green water. The sea was somehow reassuring, it always has been and always will be. Sometimes it was good to be alone, to think things out for yourself and she had a favorite spot, near a huge rock, where she could sit in the sand and watch the sun swallowed by the darkness of the waters.
She had a lot to think about. First there had been that wonderful/terrible night spend in Marla's dungeons and bedrooms. What an incredible mixture of agony and ecstasy that had been! Her bottom still bore faded marks from repeated beatings with the riding crop. Yet, for all the pain, no real damage had been done. She had suffered upon that horse thing, yet her pussy had worked when stimulated and her orgasms had been incredibly intense. What a mixture of pleasure and pain that night had been.
And behind it all she felt that Marla was trying to teach her a lesson. It didn't seem logical, that giving of pain with one hand and pleasure with the other, but that was the way of Mistress Marla. Perhaps this whole thing doesn't involve logic at all, Michelle told herself. Logically she should be running away from that terrible woman as fast as she could. Yet she was strangely attracted to that wonderfully cruel woman. She found her thoughts constantly returning to some part of that evening. The feel of the riding crop striking her bottom or breast or even the sole of her foot. And the incredible high of her friend Sandy pumping her sex with the penis gag until she was ready to scream.
What was the lesson? Perhaps nothing important. Perhaps Marla was simply having fun in her own way. But perhaps there was something terribly important to be learned.
With a mental shrug Michelle turned away from such idle musings. There were other matters of importance. For example, the next Saturday. They had been invited back. No word had been mentioned of either the girls being bound on delivery, but to do otherwise would just not seem right. Sandy and Michelle had talked about it and decided that if they went they would both wear nothing but coats and shoes, and when they got out of the car they would shed the coats and lock their own wrists behind them with handcuffs. They would then present themselves to Mistress Marla as a pair of naked and already bound girls. There hadn't been a single suggestion that they not go.
As the sun was half swallowed by the distant horizon, Michelle stood up. She should be getting back to the apartment. There was some things she needed to do. Saturday night was a whole day away. Just as the last tiny sliver of sunlight faded Michelle saw a tiny green flash of color. Then the sun was gone, leaving only an orange glow. Walking back home, Michelle wondered what lessons she would have to endure the next night.
The two girls actually got a raised eyebrow from Ms. Cool, as they laughingly referred to Mistress Marla. The sight of both girls walking into her den, completely naked, save for high heels, and with their wrists locked in handcuffs behind their backs was a little more than their hostess expected. But she smiled, took their eagerness in good grace, and complimented them on how well they looked tonight.
"Henry, a pair of leg irons for Miss Michelle," she said. "They will go well with your handcuffs. And please take Miss Sandy down to the dungeon. You know what to do with her."
Henry quickly returned with a very nice silvery pair of leg irons for Michelle, which he put on, clicking snugly tight around each ankle and leaving her with only about twelve inches between her feet. The he placed one hand on Sandy's arm and led her from the room.
Marla watched the naked girl go before turning to the other naked one. Tonight she was wearing a cocktail dress of emerald green velvet, low cut and with a slit up one side all the way to the hip. If she was wearing panties, they didn't show. She surprised Michelle with a question, "Why did you come?"
Michelle was taken back, it was not a question she would have expected. "I... I guess I just like the... ah, games here."
'Those games caused you considerable pain last week, did they not?"
"Yes. No question about that."
"Then what would you say to a girl who sought out things which hurt her?"
"I am not a slavegirl, if that's what you're getting at," Michelle retorted. "I simply have a little masochistic side, that's all. A little of these games is fun. But I wouldn't want to become a full time slavegirl, like Rebecca."
Marla smiled softly. "Time will tell. And what if I were to have Henry place you upon the horse and leave you there all night? There is considerable pain involved in that."
"I know." Michelle couldn't think of anything else to say. There was a strange attraction for the idea, mingled with a terror at the very thought of how much pain that would bring her. And for how long. Riding a thin wooden edge with all your weight on your sex is not pleasant for any girl.
"Never mind. I can see the answer in your face. Come along, I have something to show you."
Michelle was silent as they walked along towards the back of the huge house. Marla walked normally but slowly while Michelle shuffled along on chained ankles. To her surprise they did not head towards the stairs leading down to the dungeons. Instead they exited through a set of French doors into a beautifully landscaped patio. There were lush plants around, creating a jungle-like atmosphere, accented by colored lights set in various places to give an exotic and warm feeling to the area. Overhead the sky was loosing the last of its sunset colors and stars were appearing.
But Michelle's attention was immediately drawn to the figure standing on the diving board of a swimming pool which resembled a small lake in size. It was Rebecca, naked as always, standing at the end of the diving board. As they approached closer, Michelle could see that Rebecca was tightly bound up with arms behind her back and legs tightly wrapped in several places. Some rope went around her waist with what appeared to be an extra tight binding going down between her legs and crushing her pussy under its ropes. The redhead beauty was wearing high heels of at least four inches height. She was blindfolded but wore no gag. When they stopped by the side of the pool, Michelle began to get an idea of what this torment really was.
A swimming pool diving board is an unstable platform at best. It is meant to flex and spring. Having to stand on the end of it, on high heels, was difficult enough, but with arms bound behind her and a large, black blindfold mask covering the top half of her face, it became a very difficult task. Then, considering that she was tightly bound and would be unable to swim, her position became downright hazardous. Loosing her balance could be... Well, Michelle shuttered at the thought of what would happen if Rebecca fell into the water. It was not the shallow end of the pool.
It was a fascinating scene, a mixture of erotic, beauty and danger. Michelle knew that Rebecca had been standing there alone for at least a while because no one else was in sight when they came out. It was both fascinating and frightening to think about what that girl must be feeling. What if she had lost her balance...?
"How long?" asked Michelle, trying to hide the excitement in her voice.
"Oh, about an hour. She has very good balance. She could stay there all night."
The bound and naked girl teetering on stiletto heels and an unsteady board emitted a small whine of shock but not a word of protest.
"You really wouldn't leave her there all night, would you?" asked Michelle.
Marla merely turned to Michelle and lifted one eyebrow slightly.
"Guess you would. She is, after all, only a slavegirl." Michelle tried not to sound too sarcastic. "What if she falls?"
"She might be able to wiggle enough to make it to the shallow end," replied Marla in a tone of voice that said it really wasn't too important. "She's not weighted down, only bound up."
"But..."
"You want to trade places with her?"
That brought Michelle up short and cut off the next words in her mouth. She did not want to trade places. But she did feel sorry for Rebecca. This was strange kind of torture.
"Doesn't it bother you that she could drown? I mean, that's a little more serious than just a whipping."
"But doesn't that add a dash of excitement and interest?"
Michelle pursed her lips and did not speak. She was looking at the tightly bound ankles of the girl on the diving board. She doubted that Rebecca could have shuffled her feet backwards to get off the board. She had been placed there with her front facing out into the pool. The thought occurred to her to wonder how they had gotten her there in the first place. She couldn't have shuffled out herself. And the image of Henry carrying her out on a shaky diving board to place her there didn't ring true. Henry's weight alone would make the board sag way down. But further speculation was cut off my Marla's turning and heading towards the house.
"Wait for me," called Michelle as she hurried with shuffling steps of her own. "I can't walk as fast."
Inside the house she asked the question that was on her mind. "How long are you really going to leave Rebecca out there? Surely not all night."
Marla paused as if considering. "If it bothers you that much, I'll tell Henry to bring her in." She smiled sweetly. "But she really could stand there all night. She's done it before."
Michelle was shaking her head in disbelief as they made slow progress towards the dungeons, accompanied by the musical clinking of ankle chains.
Sandy was waiting for them in a position that brought a gasp from Michelle the second she saw it. Henry was also in the small room, standing by one wall, apparently finished with the task of preparing the blonde nudity. Marla whispered a few orders and he left to obey. Sandy was not comfortable. There was no question of that. The young woman was riding the same horse that Michelle had ridden the week before.
"Hi," said Sandy with a forced smile. "See what you mean about this thing. It hurts."
Her hands had been freed from their handcuffs and encased with many windings of tight, thin cord that crushed her elbows together. As with Michelle, her arms were pulled up behind her and her legs spread wide to assure that all her weight was directly on her sex, driving that wooden edge into her tender place.
For a while Michelle simply stared at the sight before her, wondering if that was what she had looked like. It was a very impressive punishment, both beautiful and terrible at the same time. The taunt muscles beneath those soft curves gave testimony to the strain. And her eyes betrayed the pain within.
"Henry tells me that Mistress Marla may leave me up here all night," Sandy said. "That will be quite a while." The understatement was uttered through a weak smile.
"You wouldn't! Marla, please tell me that you won't leave Sandy up there all night." There was real worry in Michelle's voice.
"What do you care?" asked Marla calmly. "It's not you who is feeling the horse cutting into you."
"But I care about Sandy. Even a few minutes is a torture." Michelle was very much aware of her arms being handcuffed behind her back. And with handcuffs she had put on herself.
Those handcuffs and leg irons told her that she had no power to change the course of events, nor to oppose Mistress Marla's will.
"She's only a slavegirl. For that matter, so are you." "I'm not a slave! I never told you I was. You can't make me into one."
Michelle looked defiant but did not feel that way inside. She was suddenly afraid of the power this woman held over the two of them.
Mistress Marla smiled, and Michelle's heart sank. Perhaps the pain of last weekend was only a warm up for what was to come. "I... I'm sorry... Mistress," she forced out. "Please don't leave Sandy on the horse all night. She's not used to that kind of treatment. Please?"
Marla didn't answer. Instead she turned and walked to the side of the suffering girl on the horse. For a minute she toyed with the erect nipples with the end of her riding crop. Then she took one step back. Suddenly and without warning her arm swung the crop and Sandy cried out with pain. A red mark appeared rapidly on her breast, right next to the nipple. Michelle shuttered at the memory of what a riding crop across the nipple felt like.
"Just a little reminder that things can always get worse," said Marla. "Always." Then she turned back to Michelle. "Shall we leave her to enjoy her ride?" Michelle had little chance to reply before she was shuffling after the whip-wielding mistress.
Their destination was the large dungeon with all the torture instruments. For a while Marla stood inside the door, her back to Michelle, as if surveying all her instruments of pain. "You know," she said without turning around, "Sandy is ready."
"Ready for what?"
'To become my slavegirl." The statement was said with such a quiet conviction that Michelle felt a tinge fear but, nevertheless, believed it.
Marla suddenly turned and tapped one breast with the riding crop. "And you... Well, you're not ready. It will take some more work."
"Never," was all Michelle could say, and that was uttered without much conviction.
"I could simply keep you. It wouldn't be to hard, you know. I have a detective who could arrange for you and Sandy to disappear. A letter would arrive at your office, telling them that you've gotten a much better job offer but had to go to Europe immediately to take it. Your apartment will be closed out with at least a full month's rent already paid, so the landlord won't question anything too closely. Oh, yes, it could be done."
Michelle felt coldness in the pit of her stomach. She believed this woman.
"It could be done," repeated Marla, mostly to herself. "And it has been done." "What about the police?"
"What police? Who would turn in a missing person report? Nobody that my detective could uncover. Same for Sandy. She has a sister in San Diego but they aren't too close. Not since Sandy stole a man away from her once. No one will be missing you."
"I have a boy friend."
"You have some male acquaintances but none who you are serious about."
Michelle didn't argue. It was true. She had no close boyfriend.
Mistress Marla smiled gently, kindly. "But don't worry, my dear. I won't make you my slave that way." Michelle looked startled.
"I told you that you would become my slavegirl by your own choice. So it shall be."
Michelle was greatly relieved, and it showed on her face.
"Note please, that I didn't say you won't suffer tonight. Until dawn tomorrow you will be my slavegirl. After first light you may walk, or drive, away, still free."
"And Sandy? She goes with me?"
"If she wishes."
"Why don't I like the tone of that."
"Because I think she will chose to stay here and you know that I'm right."
Michelle bit her lip. She was afraid that Marla was, indeed, right in her assessment of her blonde friend. Sandy was a natural-born slavegirl, and both of these women knew it.
Her survey of the torture instruments concluded, Mistress Marla walked to the pillory. "This," she began, "is a simple device. Probably one of the first punishment devices every created. After the whip, of course."
"Of course."
"It holds the hands and head quite firmly, leaving the rest of the body free to be played with or punished. Won't you step over here?"
Thoughts of refusing fluttered briefly across the mind but the steel on her ankles and wrists, and that big manservant somewhere nearby made her realize such would be useless. She obeyed.
"Good. I'll just take the handcuffs off. But notice that your ankles are still secured. You couldn't make much of a getaway, could you? Now please put your hands here. And your neck here. That's a good slave."
Michelle hated helping with her own bondage but she knew Marla was right. Her ankles kept her from running or kicking. And there was Henry hovering somewhere in the background. Unless he was still getting poor Rebecca off that diving board. Briefly Michelle wondered how he would do it. If he stepped out on the board, it would shake quiet a bit, probably enough to make the bound and blind slavegirl fall. Maybe if he inched his way out carefully...
As she wondered about the rescue of Rebecca, she placed her wrists in the half circles awaiting them. Then her neck. Marla pulled her long hair forward so none would get caught in the crack. Then the yoke came down, fitting snugly over female wrists and neck. Michelle couldn't see it but heard the loud click of the padlock proclaiming her imprisonment. Marla then checked the fit, assuring herself that there was not anywhere near enough slack for her to pull a hand out. Satisfied, she announced her plans.
"It's been a week since you were last whipped," Marla said. "Unless, of course, Sandy's done it?"
"Neither of us has been whipped," replied Michelle. "As you cansee from my bottom. The marks have faded." "Good. Yes, I can see. I prefer an unmarked bottom. Of course, as you can image, a whipping on an already sore bottom would cause considerably more pain..." "I can image."
"Good. Since you are bent over, your bottom is a fine target, Not as good as if it were sticking up in the air, but good." Hardly had her last words gotten out when there was a cracking sound and a burst of pain in Michelle's left cheek. "Ohhhh!" she exclaimed. "You didn't warn me." "Now that's a stupid thing for a slavegirl to say. Here's a red mark for the other side." Crack when the riding crop and Michelle had two perfectly centered reddish marks and a double pain in the ass.
The cropping of Michelle ass continued for quite a while. It was accompanied by squeals of pain and the swishing sound of the crop dancing through the air. After the first couple strokes, Michelle had to be careful not to kick her feet. The first time she did the leg irons painfully snubbed her ankles.
Likewise she learned quickly to contain her reactions to wiggles of the bottom. Jerking her whole body only hurt her neck in it's solid wooden prison.
Marla was content to slowly turn her naked guest's bottom a warm red all over, including the tops of the thighs half way down to the knees. After a couple dozen strokes, Michelle began asking that this punishment stop. She was ignored. After around forty strokes, and after her entire bottom felt on fire, she stopped begging and only gasped or whined with each new cut of the leather enemy. And she lost count about that time, She had been counting just out of curiosity to see how many Marla would deliver. But the stinging pain began to override intellectual curiosity and only she cared about after that point was when would it stop.
It was a while before Michelle realized the whipping had finally stopped. A hand cupped her chin and lifted her Tear-stained face to be kissed gently on the lips. Without thinking, and as a surprise to herself, Michelle returned the kiss with a passion that surprised her.
"I'll be right back," said Marla after withdrawing from what would surely have become something much more than a single kiss. A few minutes later she was back. "Here are four pictures," she said, holding up some small photos. "Pick a man."
Michelle frowned. She recognized none of the men, all were strangers. Each was handsome in their own ways and each had a self-assured smile in the photograph. "I don't understand,' she offered. "What do you mean, pick a man?"
"Just that. I've decided that you will be raped tonight by a man you've never seen before."
"You can't be serious."
"Of course I am. A slavegirl is the property of her mistress to be used as she wishes. I wish to see your sex impaled by a male shaft."
"That's rape!"
"A crude word. I prefer to think of it as a reward for the slavegirl."
"Rape," said Michelle stubbornly. "It makes no difference what you call it. Tonight I can whip you, I can make you ride the horse, I can put you on that penis shaft and let it fuck your brains out. Until dawn tomorrow you are mine to do with as I please."
"But I don't want to be screwed by some stranger."
"You can also pick Henry. He's quite good," Marla said as if recommending a brand of car polish.
"I don't want any man! You can't be serious. That is rape It's illegal."
Marla tapped Michelle's bottom with the crop. "So is keeping a woman prisoner against her will and torturing her But here you are. Oh, come off it, woman, you're no virgin And these men are all studs. Any of them will give you a great ride."
Michelle looked at the photos. They did look good, all handsome. She remembered some saying about when rape being inevitable, enjoy it. "I don't want to be raped. I want you to know that I'm not a willing partner to this." Michelle paused again as she looked at the photos held up before her face. And she suddenly realized that she was horny. All that had happened was a good whipping with a riding crop and she was as horny as a teenager cheerleader! "I don't want any of them. But if I had to be raped, I guess number two would be my choice."
"Your protests are duly noted. And ignored. A slavegirl's wishes don't count unless her mistress gives her a choice, like this time. The choice was which man, not if a man. And you did well, Bill is very good with a woman."
Michelle thought she detected a hint of wistfulness in that last sentence. "What am I suppose to do, just stand here and he'll come in and shove it up my pussy while I bent over?"
"You will be fixed up in a position that allowed a man full access to your sexual parts but also keeps you from moving or denying him."
"So I'll be tied down. Do I get gagged or can I utter dire threats and pitiful pleas?"
Marla smiled. "I think it would be best if you were gagged this first time. Makes for a smoother scene in case you change your mind."
"I," Michelle said as firmly as she could manage, "did not chose to be raped." "But you chose the man, dearie."
"I did not! Well, I did express a preference. But not for the rape. Well, you know what I mean."
"Indeed I do, better than you realize, dear. Well, I'm off to call Bill. Henry will fix you up." Marla turned to go but paused at the door to leave Michelle with one further thought. "If Bill's not available, Michelle, dear, Henry will stand in for him. He won't mind."
Michelle called out several nasty names but Marla had already gone. A few minutes later Henry came for her.
The position was undignified but that was the least of Michelle's worries. She was discovering that there were many rooms in this basement area, all mini-dungeons or close to it. She had seen the big dungeon, and smaller one with the horse, the titled room where a girl could be sprayed down, and now what she thought of as the "Screwing Room." It was not big, and it held only one piece of furniture, a padded table on which she rested. The walls were light red with the ceiling painted a restful shade of pink. Rather tacky, thought Michelle.
After being released from the pillory, her arms had been immediately bound behind her back, elbows touching, with average size rope for a change. That hurt less than the thin cord, so she figured that this was simply to get her arms out of the way, not to punish her. She was well aware that plain and simple bondage could be quite a punishment, especially when tight, thin cord was used. A rubber ball gag was added and strapped down tightly. She would not be talking.
Then she was taken to this small room and prepared for ravishment. The padded table proved to be just big enough to fit a girl if she was laying on her back. There were five wide leather straps attached to the sides of the table. They went up and over her body, holding it firmly down at the neck, above and below the breasts, the narrowest part of the waist, and the hips. Each ankle was caught in a loop of rope and pulled up towards rings high up on opposite walls. She was then helpless, unable to twist, rise up, or close her legs. And they were spread in an obscene "V" with lots of angle on it. Her pussy was right at the edge of the table, making very accessible. A little experimentation proved that all she could do was shake her head from side to side and wiggle her bottom just the slightest.
All Michelle could do was wait. And, except for her arms being under her and hurting, it wasn't too uncomfortable. But idea of a strange man coming in and raping her was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and yet somehow exciting. Like most other girls, Michelle had fantasies of being ravished by some tall, dark stranger. But mostly when she was a teenager. But now that it was going to happen she remembered an old saying, "Be careful what you wish for, you may get it."
The wait was long, and while she had nothing else to do she wondered what it would be like. Would this be like one of those teenage boys in high school, a couple minutes of fast, hard pumping and then all over? Or would this man take his time and make sure that she also climaxed? For that matter, what would he do to get her excited enough to screw? She didn't suspect it would take much, she felt that familiar tingle down in her loins and knew that she was not only half way turned on but pretty horny, too. She sighed.
As she was thinking about how she must look, a horrible idea struck her. With her legs pulled up and spread, not only was her vagina readily available, but so was her asshole! What is this guy was one of those men who thought it exciting to ram his dick into a girl's rear instead of the proper place for it? Michelle shuddered. She had never been screwed there. Would it hurt? Probably, from what she had heard. She had talked with one girlfriend who's boyfriend did it to her many times. The two things that she remembered from that conversation was that it hurt, and that you should always use lubricant. But then, that girl had been on the small side and perhaps a man's penis was large compared to the orifice under consideration.
Finally he came. In person he was even more handsome than his photo, a small favor all things considered. Bill did not introduce himself, but walked around the naked and completely helpless girl, holding a cocktail glass in one hand. A slow full circle completed, he stood again between her legs and nodded his head in approval.
Damned right, thought Michelle, I've a good body. Placing the glass down on the floor in a comer, he slowly removed his coat and undid his tie. There followed the shirt, Michelle following his hands with her eyes. When he unbuckled his belt, she couldn't follow the pants going down but knew what was happening.
Oh, please, kind sir! I beg of you as a gentlemen, don't do this terrible thing! she thought but could not say it. In a way it was kind of funny, her wanting and not wanting at the same time what was to come.
Bill began by teasing one already erect nipple with his tongue. Michelle felt electric tingle shoot through her. It felt good. Then, while teasing one nipple with his fingers, he switched his oral attentions to the other one. Okay, Michelle said to herself, I'll give you just one hour to stop that. Oh, that's nice.
The erotic effect of this enforced sex and anticipation had done their work on the naked girl, she was ready. The idea of being raped had not really be as repugnant to Michelle as she had let on. Fact was, she hadn't had a man inside her for a while and was starting to crave that kind of action. After all, she was bi, not pure lesbian.
Moving around to the open legs, Bill felt her sex with one hand, fingers carefully exploring the love tunnel. They found it moist and definitely ready for action. But it was not in his head to immediately ram his tool home, even though it was standing at the ready. He spread the lips protecting her most private place with gentle fingers and lowered his head to it. Michelle gasped as the tongue began it's slow licking of her most sensitive spot.
She couldn't help herself. Her body responded to expert attention, she moaned with the pleasure he was giving her, and all thoughts of how horrible felt was to be raped fled out the door. When rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it, she told herself. Oh, boy!
He did know what he was doing. It had been Michelle's experience that most men didn't really know how to eat a girl's pussy, only other women really knew where all the nerves and sensitive spots are. But this man was hitting most of them.
Upward and upward, her excitement grew until she was trembling on the verge of an orgasm. She wanted to scream out for him to shove that tool of his into her pussy, but the gag prevented that.
Suddenly the tongue left. Michelle moaned into her gag and wished she could move. With a skill better than most men, Bill had sensed that she was very close and stopped just short of driving her over the edge. It was frustrating but a wonderful kind of torture that she wanted and hated at once.
"So you want some more?" he asked. Then, when she replied only with a moan, he added, "Perhaps a little something inside you?"
She certainly hoped that it wouldn't be a "little something." In the mood she was, she hoped for a great, big shaft, shoved in hard and deep.
With her head held down by the neck strap, Michelle couldn't see what was going on between her legs. For all she knew, he was putting his pants back on. But that was not it. He was just positioning his tool at the entrance of her sheath. Suddenly she felt her lips spread and the welcome entrance of a shaft. With expert skill, he slowly drove his tool in, pleasing Michelle with every additional inch that filled her. Soon she felt his balls against her bottom and knew that he was all the way in. At it felt ever so good!
He worked her slowly and carefully, making her build up to the edge, then backing away just enough to keep her in a high state of arousal and desperately wanting more. When he finally sensed that neither of them could hold off any longer, he wrapped his arms around the raised legs, increased the speed of the thrustings to a fever pitch, and finished them both. Michelle moaned very loudly into her gag and Bill sucked in air with a gasp of delight. For a long time both of them were suspended in a frozen moment of ecstasy, pressed hard together, sharing the deepest emotions a man and a woman can share.
They came down, Bill more obviously than Michelle. It had been a fine coupling, enjoyable for both, satisfying and delicious. Neither said a thing for a long time.
Finally he withdrew his limp member, cleaned it on her pubic hair, then dressed. Michelle, for her part, was slowly returning to this world and would have welcomed a encore. But it was not to be. Bill thanked her, said that he hoped he would see her again, and left.
It was a strange mixture of satisfaction and an empty feeling. She wished Bill had stayed, that perhaps they could have talked a bit. But she was just a naked, tied down, and gagged slavegirl to be used for the pleasure of her mistress, and any male her mistress wished. The logical part of her mind said that she should be thankful for a man who considered her satisfaction and took pains to assure it. Many men would have just used her sex, had their orgasm and left without a thought to whether she enjoyed it or not.
It was half an hour later when Henry came and released her. When the ropes came off, her arms hung lifeless at her sides, numb from the double restrictions of ropes and having been laid on for quite a while. The wrists were handcuffed behind her back again and the leg irons replaced, but she didn't care. For all her protesting, it had been a wonderful rape and she was one happy girl. In another room, Sandy was not feeling so happy.
Riding a horse is a terrible way for a girl to pass the time. Her whole body aches from the strain, the tight ropes, but especially the wooden edge trying to cut her in two. At first the pain is a burning one, then it slowly changes to dull ache. The girl finds that wiggling in an attempt to find a comfortable position only makes things far worse, so she stops. The crying desire to move and do something about the pain is finally suppressed and she sits there motionless, head bowed, tears slowly crawling down her cheeks. Now and then a muscle twitches but for the most part she is a study in quiet agony.
Such was Sandy, the youthful and lively blonde with the figure that evoked instant erections by all males on the beach. She moaned and small muscles twitched, but she did not move, she dare not. Time for this tortured girl dragged slowly, too slowly. Alone in one of the small dungeons belonging to Mistress Marla, perched upon an instrument of torture that no girl should ever have to endure, she waited and savored the delicious agony she both hated and loved.
Cleaned up from her rape, Michelle followed Marla into the punishment room that held the suffering Sandy and gasped aloud when she saw what was being done to her friend.
"You've left her up here all this time! That's terrible!" Michelle cried. "An hour is too much but you've left her there most of the night."
"Only five hours," replied Marla evenly. "It took time to call Bill, set you up for your little activity, and to clean you. Actually, a little less than five hours."
"Sandy! Are you okay?" called a worried Michelle.
Sandy turned her head slowly and tried to smile but the effort was weak. "I'm okay. It hurts a bit, though."
Michelle's heart went out to her friend. She had ridden that horse for an hour and thought the agony would never end. Poor Sandy had been perched up there for five times that.
"How does our little slavegirl like the horse?" Marla asked Sandy.
"It's punishment, Mistress," was the weak reply.
"But do you like it?" insisted Marla.
"If it pleases you, Mistress, then it is good."
"Not exactly what I asked, but acceptable." She turned to Michelle. "You see, she has crossed over that line and is a slavegirl now. Watch."
Marla detached her ever-present riding crop and tapped Sandy's left breast. "Would you like a good, hard swat across this breast?"
"If my Mistress wishes," Sandy said dully.
"See? She has been reduced by constant pain to a very acceptable level of submission." Marla actually sounded quite proud of her accomplishment. "She is now a slavegirl."
"She's just in such pain that she wouldn't think of disobeying," retorted Michelle. "Can't you let the poor girl down? She's suffering."
"Of course she is, silly! That is the purpose of the horse."
Michelle wanted to protest more, to say something that might get her friend down from that terrible device. But she knew that there was nothing she could say that would change Marla's mind. Sandy would come down when Marla felt like it, not a second sooner.
"Come on, I feel like having a slavegirl service me," Mistress Marla said firmly. "Come on."
From the doorway, Michelle glanced back and almost cried out at the expression of hopelessness in Sandy's eyes. "Aren't you going to let her down now?" she asked as she shuffled along. "I mean, she's become your slavegirl. She's totally obedient now."
"A little while longer up there won't hurt her." Marla chuckled, "Well, maybe it will but it will only re-enforce upon her mind just what her status is. But don't worry, she'll come down before dawn."
Inside Marla's bedroom, Michelle stood uncertainly in the middle of the carpet while Marla removed her dress.
"Bend over," she ordered the chained and naked girl. "Put your head down around your knees."
Michelle obeyed, well aware of how much her bottom stuck up in the air in that position. And her handcuffed hands were kept away from the tender flesh of that bottom. As expected, there was a quick swish and pain exploded in one cheek. Quickly the crop cut the other cheek. Michelle staggered forward under the pain but regained her balance before falling over.
"That's just to remind you what will happen if you don't please me," Marla said sweetly. "Please do a good job, I don't like to have to take time out when I'm getting serviced to whip a slave's bottom."
Michelle sighed inwardly but was careful to keep her face blank. When Marla lay back on the bed and spread her legs, Michelle climbed up on the bed to kneel between her mistress' legs. Reluctantly she bent to her task.
The lovemaking was totally one sided, Mistress Marla getting all the pleasure, Michelle none. Since her hands were handcuffed behind her, she could not use them to help her in her sexual servicing. She could also not touch her own sex, even though being chained and having to service another woman was having its effect on her. It would have been nice if Marla would make love to her, but that was not to be.
When Marla was satisfied, Michelle was allowed to rest on the floor at the foot of the bed. It was getting on towards dawn and she was tired. The rest was only for a few minutes before there was a polite knock on the door. At Marla's command, Henry entered, leading Sandy on a leash. The poor girl's legs were free but she was walking bow- legged. Michelle grimaced at the thought of what this girl's poor pussy must have felt like. No wonder she was walking with legs spread as wide as she could. Her hands, like Michelle's, were handcuffed behind her.
"Hi, everybody," said Sandy, obviously in better spirits than a while before.
"Good," said Marla, getting up from the bed. Her nudity before the man servant didn't seem to bother either one of them. "I have a question to ask you. Sandy, would you like to stay here with me, as a slavegirl?"
"Oh, Mistress... I don't know." Sandy seemed genuinely undecided. "It's sounds good but there is Michelle..."
"I will keep you for one month. If you are not a proper slavegirl by the end of that time, I'll kick you out."
"I..." Sandy stuttered. "Michelle, I... I'm sorry. But I would like to stay with Mistress Marla."
"Just to make sure things are understood," continued Marla, "you will be kept in constant restrictions, punished whenever and however I desire, and will obey instantly any command. Do you agree to that?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"You see, Michelle, it is as I predicted. You will be going home alone."
"Sandy, are you sure? You'll be tortured by this woman, you know that."
"I know that Mistress Marla enjoys punishing me," replied Sandy with real love in her eyes as she looked to her naked mistress. "And that makes it okay. Beside, I sort of like it. I want to see what it's like to be a full time slavegirl. The couple times you kept me tied up all weekend were nice but this is... Well, this is different."
It was different indeed, and Michelle could find no argument that might change her friend's mind. And the fact that she also found such an idea attractive made it much harder to make the effort.
"Okay. You're old enough to make your own choices, I guess." Then Michelle turned to Marla. "Will I be able to visit her?"
"Of course," purred Marla. "Come any time you want." "Then I guess I've lost a roommate," said Michelle. "Unless she flunks out of slave school."
5
Visiting a Slavegirl
Michelle wandered around the apartment, very much aware of the missing girlfriend she had come to love. In the year they had been living together, Sandy and Michelle had become very close, had some fights, and played a lot of bondage games. In many ways they were different, but still very good friends. Michelle was coming to understand that she loved Sandy.
She considered trying to get another roommate but knew she couldn't replace Sandy that way. Where would she find a another girl who loved bondage as much as she did?
The first weekend without Sandy, Michelle stripped off all her clothes, locked handcuffs on her wrists and ankles, and spent the entire weekend in her apartment in that restrained position. But it wasn't the same. By the middle of Sunday afternoon she had unlocked the cuffs and put them away in a dresser draw. It just wasn't the same. By dinner time Sunday evening she knew that she would have to visit Sandy.
But Michelle put off the visit until the following Friday night. She could have made the short trip any week night but instead waited. Perhaps it was the hope that she would become involved in some games if there were two whole free days ahead. But whatever the reason, she made a call on Thursday night and was told by Mistress Marla that she would indeed be welcome the next evening. She was prompt.
As Michelle exited from her car she though she saw a slight glint of appreciation in the eyes of Henry as he held open the door for her. Which was only what she had expected. Her dress had been chosen to show off her assets in a very erotic way. The dress ended just above the knees and had a slit up one side nearly to her waist. In front it had a very low cut V, exposing a lot of fine flesh and obviously no bra. The material was a thin silky black, shinning and clinging. Her legs were sheathed in old-fashioned nylons held up with a garter belt in a style hardly ever seen in modem times. The heels were very high, stiletto thin and shinning black. As she walked to the front door, her heels clicked on the flagstone pavement and there was even a slight swishing sound from nyloned legs rubbing thighs together with each step. She smiled sweetly at Henry and thanked him.
Then she was once again inside that incredible, strange, and more than a little frightening world of slavery and pain that Mistress Marla oversaw.
"My, but you look good tonight," exclaimed Marla coming up to meet her in the hallway. "Very good."
"Thank you. You look fine, too."
"Would you like a drink? It's a little early in the evening for it, but perhaps a small cocktail?"
"No, thanks. Perhaps later. What I would like..."
Michelle was cut off. "Is to see Sandy," said Marla with a smile. "You want to make sure she's still alive and in one piece? Well, come along, you'll soon see my newest slave."
As they walked towards the stairs leading to the dungeon, Marla turned a shrewd eye to her guest. "And how's your special interests going? Been tied up lately?"
Michelle was put off by the unexpected question and didn't answer. If she said no, it would somehow be like admitting that she had been deprived of something really good and important in her life. But she didn't want to lie and say that she wasn't missing her friend. She had to admit to herself that a major part of her life had been taken away.
"Here we are. I've left her in her cell so you can see how she lives when I'm not playing with her." Marla opened a door and stood aside to allow Michelle entrance.
There was a small central area with three cells, one in each of the walls except where the door was. Each cell was like a prison cell, a small room with a hard wood bench, bare walls of stone and tile floor. The front was of iron bars mostly door, with a large hasp. In that hasp was a padlock the size of a man's fist. Each cell also had metal rings set in each wall at the height of a girl's neck.
Two of the cells were empty, the third held a smiling Sandy. She was naked, but Michelle had expected no less. She was also secured by considerable weight of shackles, but that was also not unexpected. Her wrists were locked in front of her with silver handcuffs. There was also what looked like a pair of handcuffs locked above her elbows but the chain linking them was much longer than normal handcuffs and passed behind her back. But it was short enough so that it held her elbows pulled back. Michelle could see that between the handcuffs and elbow cuffs Sandy's arms were held by her side with hands at her waist with very little motion possible. She could touch her own breasts, perhaps stretch fingers down to her pussy, and maybe scratch her nose if she bent her head down far enough. But that was all she would be doing with her hands.
There was also a pair of leg irons on her ankles, a very short chain connecting the cuffs, three links where handcuffs have one. And around her neck was a lovely silver collar, about two inches wide and thin. In the front was a small ring with the end of a chain locked to it. That chain ran down to her wrists were another small padlock secured it to her handcuffs, then down to her leg irons where the end was locked to the center link. When she was standing that neck to ankle chain was stretched taunt but didn't forced Sandy to bend.
"How do I look?" said Sandy cheerfully. "Isn't this just the cutest outfit? And isn't this collar delightful?" She proudly turned around so Michelle could see her shackles from all sides.
"Is this outfit for punishment?" Michelle asked. It didn't look too uncomfortable but it also didn't look too comfortable. "Oh, this is my usual bondage," said Sandy happily. "I even sleep like this. Expect, that is, when I sleep with Mistress Marla," she added.
"Isn't it rather uncomfortable to sleep like that? I mean, those cuffs on your elbows must be uncomfortable."
"They are," agreed Sandy. "But I manage. And they constantly remind me that I'm a slavegirl."
"Yes. I guess they would." Michelle looked over the naked girl's restraints for a few seconds, then turned to Marla. "Could we talk alone for a few minutes?"
"Of course," said Marla. "But first..." She held up a pair of handcuffs invitingly.
Michelle offered her wrists. It only seemed natural that she would be chained up to some extent in this place. But Marla made a circular motion with her finger and Michelle found herself turning to offer her wrists behind her back. The cuffs clicked snugly tight and Michelle felt a little thrill. This was the first time in a week she had been actually helpless and it felt good. Not the same as when she handcuffed herself for she knew that she could unfasten herself when she did it. Now she was helpless and didn't even know where the handcuff key that could free her was.
Marla opened the cell door and motioned for Michelle to enter. Then she closed it behind her and locked it again. Then she was gone.
Michelle found herself in a awkward position. She wanted to give Sandy a big hug but her hands were secured behind her. And Sandy had very little freedom with her hands, so hugging was out. Instead she kissed Sandy and felt a thrill race though her as Sandy's breasts pressed against her chest, and the kiss was returned with a loving passion that evoked memories of many wonderful nights they had spent together.
Each girl was more than a little breathless when they separated.
"I've missed you," said Michelle honestly. "I missed you, too," replied Sandy. "It's fun here but I still miss you."
"Are you being treated okay? I mean, they're not hurting you, are they?"
"Silly! Of course they're hurting me. A slavegirl always gets punished. Look!" Sandy turned to display her bottom. The bottom was crisscrossed with fading marks from a crop and perhaps a whip, too. There were also lighter marks on both the back and front of her thighs.
"And my poor little titties are constantly sensitive and sore from all the clamps and clothespins they put on them. You know those little metal circles we both wore? Well, those things were left on my tits for a whole day! Isn't that wild! I thought the ache would drive me mad. But half that day I was also riding the horse and the pain from that wood cutting into me made me forget about my poor little titties."
"Sandy, are you sure this is what you want?"
"Oh, Michelle, you're being silly. I'm fine. I've always wanted to find out what it would be like to be full time slavegirl and now I know. It has it's bad points but there are also very exciting times." Sandy seemed very sincere in her enthusiasm.
"I've been punished along with Rebecca. One time Mistress Marla tied both of our hands behind us and made us make love to each other on the floor of her bedroom while she watched! Isn't that wild! And one time she put me back on that mechanical shaft, you know, the one that pumps up and down inside you? I thought I was going to explode! I don't think I've ever had such orgasms!"
Michelle doubted that. Sandy was the kind of girl who said every orgasm was the best she had ever felt. And Michelle felt a little sadness inside. Perhaps she had hoped that she would find a Sandy sorry for her choice and ready to come home with her.
"Michelle, why look sad? I've having a good time. Sure, it hurts sometimes but that's part of being a slavegirl. Don't feel bad for me."
"I'm not sad for you." Michelle hesitated. "I just miss you."
Sandy brightened. "Well, you could join me! Mistress Marla has plenty of room and has said that she'll take you as a new slave. Oh, Michelle, we could have such fun together!"
T don't know..."
"Really we could." Sandy reached up one chained hand to touch Michelle's breast. "Maybe she'll keep us in the same cell! Oh, Michelle, it would be such fun!"
Michelle felt an attraction calling to something inside her. But she was also unsure. This Mistress Marla want a girl to be a full time slave, not just on the weekends. It was much more than a game with Marla.
"Do you still want to stay here?" she asked Sandy.
"Yes. I just like it. I sort of... Well, fit in. You know?"
"Yes, I know. Well, I'm glad you're happy."
For a minute they were both silent. They were at an impasse, both wanting to be together but Michelle not willing to make the full time commitment. Finally, Michelle turned to another topic.
"Do you know if Marla has any games planned for tonight? So long as I'm here might as well have some fun."
"I don't know but I'm sure she'll think of something. She always does."
They talked of trivial things for a few more minutes. Then Marla returned.
"Mistress Marla," began Michelle. "May I have the pleasure of being your slavegirl for this one night? I will be ever so submissive."
"I'm sure you will." Marla seemed to ponder the request for so long that Michelle began to think that perhaps she would be turned down. "I would rather that you come to me wanting to be a full time slavegirl of your own free will. But it happens that I have a little game I wanted to play tonight and perhaps you will fit into it as well as Sandy. Very well," she said decisively. "You will be a slavegirl until the morning's first light. Then you may go home to your drab, ordinary life."
Michelle cringed inwardly. The description of her life as drab was too true to be comfortable. Only when playing games with Sandy, or when visiting Marla's dungeons did she feel really alive.
"Thank you, Mistress." She bowed her head and awaited orders.
First Sandy was fixed up so she could watch Marla play her "little game" with Michelle. She was taken to the big dungeon room, the chains taken off, except the collar, and she was bound to one of the posts. The ropes were tight and cut deeply into her soft flesh, especially behind the thin post were the ropes crushed her elbows together. Her head was even secured by ropes through her mouth and the post. Sandy could only stand and watch.
As Michelle was prepared by Henry, she really had to wonder what she was getting herself into this time. First a rope was tied to each ankle. Then those ropes were threaded through rings high up on opposite walls. Then the handcuffs were taken off and her wrists tied together in front of her. Her elbows were tied together. Henry lowered her to the floor on her back, then went to the ropes hanging down from the rings. Pulling and tying one, then the other, he pulled Michelle up slowly until she was suspended completely off the floor with her legs spread wide. She kept contact with the floor for as long as she could touch it with bound hands, but eventually lost that.
The wide spread of her legs forced the dress up until it was bunched around her hips. Having worn no panties meant that she was now fully exposed with a pussy wide open and pointed at the ceiling. Henry took the rope from her wrists and tied it to a ring below her and slightly behind her. He pulled that rope taunt so her arms were pulled down and immobile. Then he left her.
It was a strange position to be bound in. She was upside down, her legs spread wide and her hands bound tightly down near the floor. She had never been tied like this before and found it both exciting and a little scary. With the dress gathered around her hips, her private parts were wide open. She was very much aware of the male presence of Henry as he finished up the binding of her body. But, as always, Henry was a perfect gentleman.
After checking all the ropes and knots again, Henry departed, leaving the two naked slavegirls in immobility and totally helplessness.
"Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten me into," quipped Michelle. "Oh, I forgot, you've got a rope gag through your mouth. Do I look as helpless as I feel?"
Sandy's grunts sounded like an affirmation of Michelle's suspicions. The hanging upside down girl sighed and wondered how long she would have to hang like that. It wasn't too comfortable but it was tolerable. What worried her was what plans Mistress Marla might have in store for her inverted, open and inviting sex.
Michelle didn't have long to wait. Marla made a grand entrance, dressed in flaming orange velvet down to the matching high heels. The riding crop she held in her hand was not, however, orange but the usual wicked black leather. Without a word she walked over to Michelle and tapped the end of the riding crop lightly against the vulnerable pussy. It was an unspoken threat and Michelle understood it very well. Before the night was over, probably in the near future, that riding crop would be used on her sex. She hated the idea, shivered inwardly at the thought, but still found it strangely exciting.
Marla laid the riding crop down on a pair of stocks and used her hands to push and pull the thin material of Michelle's dress down over the hips, passed the big breasts, to let it drop to the floor. Michelle looked up at her breasts and wondered at the odd shape they took in obedience to gravity.
"I have a desire to whip a pussy," announced Marla after picking up her whip. "And I have a pussy right here." She again tapped Michelle's tender flesh. "But perhaps we should first remind this slave of what pain tastes like.
The riding crop swished through the air and a fire exploded in Michelle's left breast. "Ohhh! No!" she cried. "That hurt."
Marla did not bother to reply to the obvious. Instead she shifted her position and swatted the other breast. They were not easy taps as a red mark on the smooth side of each mound showed. This time Michelle was prepared, all that came out was a grunt.
Those were the first two of many blows, all painful. Marla took her time and targeted all the soft places of the nearly naked body hanging inverted before her. The crop found the soft flesh of her bottom and covered both globes with red marks intermixed with purples. The poor breasts were likewise covered with angry red marks but perhaps Marla held her hand on that target for none of her smooth and soft skin turned purple as did her bottom.
Then the cruel mistress worked her whip up the backs of Michelle's thighs, evoking cries of pain and useless jerkings against the tight ropes. Then the front of her thighs received the kiss of the riding crop, the nylons still on her legs offering no protection.
Marla stood before Michelle and placed the end of the riding crop near the crying girl's lips. "Kiss it," she commanded softly. "Kiss it as a sign of submission and love."
Michelle kissed the wicked leather, but not out of submission. Her act was out of fear, fear that failure to be properly obedient would only mean much more pain. And she was hurting enough.
"Very good," purred Marla. "And now you shall be rewarded. Are you ready?"
Michelle didn't know if an answer was expected. But it was soon obvious that one was not. Marla placed her hand on Michelle's upturned sex and brought away a finger glistening with secretions. "You are ready."
Michelle was wondering how being so cruelly bound and then whipped could light the fire she felt in her loins when the first blow landed squarely on her sex.
She screamed. She hadn't wanted to but the pain had simply been so sudden and intense she could not help herself. Her body jerked wildly back and forth the little the ropes allowed her as she let vent the anguish in one long scream.
"Sweet music," commented Marla when Michelle was reduced to sobs and gasps.
"Oh, please, no! That hurt so much! I'll do anything. Don't hit me again."
"Slavegirls don't give orders," said Marla dryly. Then she hit Michelle squarely between the legs again. Again Michelle screamed. When the scream had died away, Michelle was gasping for breath and moaning. The muscles along the back of her legs trembled and her fingers clawed at the rope holding her hands down.
"You see, I can give you much pain," said Marla sweetly. "And I do so enjoy doing that."
After five hard strokes with the riding crop across the pussy, Michelle was begging and screaming, twisting and jerking. The entire area between her legs was becoming numb and swollen as the torture continued. After ten hard strokes, Michelle was reduced to a sobbing, totally submissive female who would have done or said anything just so long as it stopped the pain.
"Now you'll see that I can also give pleasure," said Marla. She discarded the whip and produced a dildo with a handle coming out of its base. The penis replica was large and apparently made of hard rubber or plastic. Without warning Marla placed the end of the dildo against the open vagina and pushed down. It slid in easily to a loud gasp from the tortured girl. But Marla didn't give Michelle time to think or respond verbally. She began pumping the instrument with hard, sure strokes. After a dozen strokes Michelle began moaning loudly but it was hard to tell if it was from pleasure or pain.
Marla used her other hand to find the clit and tease it with her fingers. It was less than a minute before Michelle was giving every sign of rapidly approaching an intense orgasm. And she did. With a loud cry she arched her body backwards and shook all over. Marla shoved the dildo in all the way and held it there while her fingers squeezed Michelle's clit between two of them.
For a long time both girls held their poses. But all good things come to an end, and eventually Michelle sucked in breath and fell limp in her bonds. Marla left the dildo with Michelle's sheath and stepped back. She seemed fascinated by the trembling nudity hanging there and watched the moaning girl for a long time.
Suddenly she turned and left the room. It was a long time before Michelle was aware of her surroundings. She moaned and looked around but the only person in sight was the tightly bound girl on the post. After a minute Michelle sardonically commented to Sandy, "That was one hell of a trip."
Almost an hour later Henry returned to lower Michelle to the floor. Her rope bondage was replaced with handcuffs and leg irons and she was led to Marla's bedroom. There she found Marla laying back on the bed with Rebecca kneeling between her legs. The red-headed slavegirl was naked and her arms cruelly bound behind her. She also had her head between Marla's legs and was busy giving her mistress a good tongue-lashing.
When Marla became aware of Michelle's presence, she ordered her to take Rebecca's place. Michelle did, kneeling on all four. Then she was ordered to spread her knees apart and Rebecca ordered to come up behind her and continue her lesbian service, only this time on a sore and tender pussy.
Michelle was surprised to find that her sex responded. It was very sore but still functioning as a second orgasm attested to. It was not as intense as the one she had experienced hanging in the dungeon, so she was able to continue her tongue work on Mistress Marla, eventually bringing her to an orgasm, too.
Sandy spent the night tied to the post, alone in the dark dungeon. Michelle was forced to service both Marla and Rebecca several times before dawn, but was not allowed a third orgasm herself. Which made her glad for she wasn't sure her poor sex could take another one.
The next Saturday night Michelle visited slavegirl Sandy. This time she found her friend's bottom and the back of her tights covered with ugly bruises which Sandy admitted had been placed there with a black whip of a kind she had never seen before. And didn't want to ever see again. The reason for the whipping, aside from Mistress Marla's usual enjoyment of such things, was because Sandy had refused to obey a direct order. The fact that the order involved her performing a oral sex act on Henry, an act which Sandy disliked immensely although she didn't mind oral sex with other women. She refused and was punished. Afterwards the act didn't seem so bad, at least compared with the pain from a serious whipping.
"It wasn't so bad," Sandy admitted when they were alone. "But I wish that huge prong of his was in my pussy not my mouth." She shifted position on the hard wood bench of her cell. Michelle sat next to her, also naked and likewise chained with handcuffs and leg irons. "Did you know that he can hold off from coming for the longest time? I must have worked on his prong for hours before Marla told him he could finally have his satisfaction. And then, wow!"
"Do you mind having to perform oral sex on a man?" asked Michelle with concern. "I remember how much you dislike it. You never would do it for any of your boyfriends."
"A slavegirl has to do as she is ordered," Sandy said meekly.
Michelle nodded, not in agreement but in understanding. She was understanding the mental attitude of a slavegirl much better than she ever had. Her own pussy had been sore for days after the cropping of it a week before, yet she had returned to this house of pain, to visit her friend but also to be a slavegirl for another night.
"You still want to be her slave?" asked Michelle, hoping for an answer other than the one she got.
"Yes. I am a slavegirl. I love Mistress Marla. Really I do! She's so wonderful. I love it when she lets me sleep with her. I'm always bound or chained for the night but it's wonderful to sleep next to my Mistress."
That night Michelle rode the mechanical shaft to multiple orgasms while her nipples burned with the bite of sharp-toothed clamps and her arms ached from very tight cords crushing her elbows together behind her. Marla amused herself by walking around the oversexed girl on the shaft and cropping tender spots now and then to add just a little spice.
Sandy watched from a position bent backwards over a bar, her nipples and breasts tormented by similar steel jawed clamps and a rash of fresh riding crop marks.
A week later, when she again visited her friend, Michelle was shocked to learn that Mistress Marla had allowed Henry to perform intercourse upon a tied down Sandy. She was shocked at first, but Sandy didn't seem too upset about the incident. And then Michelle remembered that Marla had secured her to a table with legs spread up and wide for a stranger to rape her.
So they had a laugh over it and Michelle accepted Sandy's assurance that Henry was a very skilled and long-lasting lover.
Later that evening, Michelle found herself hanging by her wrists from the ceiling while a heavy weight dragged her legs downward. Those same small clamps squeezed her nipples in their painful bite, but that was all. She was simply left to hang there, a punishment but not as severe as she was used to from Mistress Marla. After an hour or two, Sandy was brought in, her arms tied behind her back with tight, thin cord, her mouth filled with a rubber gag, but her legs free. At Marla's orders, Henry unzipped his pants, freeing a penis that Michelle had to admit was everything Sandy had proclaimed it to be. Then, as Henry sat on a chair, Sandy was lifted up and lowered onto that prong, as she called it, an impaling that the bound and gagged girl seemed to rather enjoy.
There followed an interesting show. Michelle hung with pained wrists to watch while Sandy sat on Henry's lap, her bound arms pressed against his chest, her big breasts cupped by two huge hands, and was screwed to a fare-thee-well. It seemed like hours that the blonde was bounced up and down on the male shaft, her breasts were squeezed, she gave every sign of intense sexual excitement. Periodically Sandy seemed to be experiencing an orgasm, but she was held in place easily and the screwing continued. Michelle was reminded of the mechanical shaft that she had the pleasure of riding. Henry, like it, was very long-lasting.
Only when Marla ordered him to climax did his facial express change. For the first time, Michelle actually saw him smile as he shot his load into the bound girl. For Sandy it must have been a very fulfilling experience for she seemed to hit another orgasm just as he did.
Michelle hung in suffering and was very horny. It was a long night.
Several times over the next couple months Sandy related during the visits that Henry had been allowed to screw her. Sandy was pretty sure that some of the time Mistress Marla hadn't given direct orders for the ravishment of her slavegirl, that Henry had done it simply because he wanted to. And Sandy seemed rather pleased as she related these experiences in considerable detail to her friend.
And there was always some tale of punishment to make Michelle shudder. Sandy's life had become one of long periods of confinement within her cell or some device, punctuated by intense periods of pleasure or pain. Or both.
Michelle also suffered pain and pleasure at the hands of Mistress Marla during her one night visits. Sandy repeatedly asked her friend to join her in slavery, and there were times when Michelle's will power wavered.
After three months of seeing her friend the constant slave of a cruel mistress, and being herself a slave for one night once a week, two important events happened to Michelle. She was laid off from her job. And she decided to become a full time slavegirl.
6
Slavery Forever
"...And then the guy dropped the hint that he might be able to keep me on in the company if I were willing to jump into bed with him," Michelle told Sandy. Both friends were sitting on the hard wooden bench in Sandy's cell under Mistress Marla's mansion. "Well, you can guess how far that got him."
Michelle paused to shift her bare bottom on the seat. "I told him if he wanted sex, he could go home to his fat, bitchy wife and beg her for some. And I walked out." She paused again to raise her handcuffed wrists before her as if having never seen such a sight before. "Of course, that left me without a job. I could have looked for another... But, what the hell, I decided to give this slavegirl business a try."
"Oh, Michelle, I'm so glad!" Sandy exclaimed. "We'll have so much fun. If Mistress Marla allows us to, of course."
"Of course. Look, is she really terrible to you? I mean, she doesn't go around punishing you every hour of every day, does she?"
"Well, no. But she doesn't have to be here to punish us. Sometimes she gives Henry orders and he does it for her. Sometimes she simply puts me into some kind of device and have to stay there all day and suffer." "Every day?"
"Well, she says that a slavegirl should be punished at least a little each day so she will remember that she's a slave. Sometimes it's not too bad, Michelle. Some of the punishments are simply boring. You've never spent an entire day in chains and locked in your cell. No TV, no magazines, no friends to talk to. Gets boring." "I can imagine."
"And there are real punishments, the kind that hurt."
"Like?" "Oh, you'll find out. Like having to ride the horse for hours. That can get pretty terrible. But even having to sit in the stocks can be pretty bad. You sit on the edge of a wooden plank and your bottom gets sore. And one time I spent a whole day with my arms tied behind my back and the elbows together. That can become a punishment. But I guess you know that. I tied you with your elbows together and left you all night several times."
"I remember. And the next day I tied you the same but added a hogtie. And you spent the night like that."
"I was horny all night. Being tied tightly makes me that way."
"Yes, I remember. I had to gag you so I could get some sleep. You kept demanding that I use a vibrator on you." "Well, you could of..."
"So, every day you get punished?" said Michelle, returning to the subject at hand.
"Yeah. But there are good times, too. Sometimes she has Henry put me on that shaft thing and I spend a few hours of almost constant orgasms. That is pretty wonderful. And," Sandy lowered her voice, "there's the sex from Henry. He's the best man I ever knew."
"She let's him screw you?"
"Sometimes she orders him too. Usually I'm tied real tight in some terribly uncomfortable position and she has him screw me. Makes an incredible mix of pleasure and pain. But other times he just screws me because he likes to. I think he's screwing Rebecca, too, but he won't talk about it. Says a gentleman doesn't talk about such things. Hey, do you think he'll screw you, too?"
"I hope not. From what I saw, he's so big that most girls just couldn't take him." Michelle's voice was a little dreamy.
"I can," replied Sandy. Then she giggled. "And often do. But it's okay if he gives you sex, too. He's really... Oh, what's that word? Means he can screw all night and still be good for a quickie in the morning."
"Potent? Viral?"
"Yeah. Viral. He can keep pumping all day and stay hard."
"I'm so glad." Michelle wasn't too keen on having that big black man using her sex. She still regarded her sex as her own property to be offered as she wished, not because her mistress wanted some man to use it. Still, Henry was a real hunk...
"I don't mind sharing him with you," Sandy concluded with the last word on the subject.
"Do you see much of Rebecca?"
"Sometimes. Her cell is in another room. Funny thing about Rebecca, every time I see her, she's in some horrible kind punishment. I don't think I've ever seen her just chained up like you and I are. I've walked by a room and seen her inside riding the horse. Or sometimes she's tied in a ball so tight you wouldn't believe it and just laying in a corner someplace."
Michelle shifted again and stretched her legs out. They almost touched the other side of the small cell and the leg irons snugly clamped on her ankles made a tinkling sound. Both girls were completely naked and wearing handcuffs and leg irons.
"Does Marla take you to bed often?" Michelle asked.
"Mistress Marla! Don't forget that or you'll be punished. Call her Mistress Marla or just Mistress. And, yes, sometimes she takes me to bed. And sometimes she take both Rebecca and me to bed. But I'll bet you'll see."
"I'm sure I will."
Michelle leaned back against the hard brick wall and sighed. The last twenty-four hours were a bit of a blur and she still didn't believe what she had done. After walking out of her boss' office, she cleaned out the few personal things in her desk and went immediately home. By dinner time that night she had made her decision and placed a call to Marla. Marla was delighted and told her to come by whenever she wished, she would be welcome.
She didn't report for duty immediately. She took a day to dean out her and Sandy's things from the apartment, storing them in one of those self-storage places. There was surprisingly little, only half a dozen boxes, mostly clothes. She paid a year's rent on the storage area and locked it. Then, with only the clothes on her back, she drove up into the Hollywood foothills and her fate.
She had parked to one side of the main entrance door and left the keys in the ignition, certain that Henry would later find someplace to put the car. Then she stood beside the car, stretched, and locked a pair of handcuffs on her wrists behind her back. Exactly on clue, Henry opened the front door and welcomed her in.
Mistress Marla wasn't present, having business to attend to, but Henry made sure that Michelle didn't feel ignored. First he look her down stairs to Sandy's cell. The youthful blonde was in her cell, naked with handcuffed wrists behind her back and ankles joined by leg irons. Henry removed the handcuffs Michelle had used and replaced them with a pair of Marla's, perhaps to assure that there was nothing tricky about Michelle's pair. Then he locked the leg irons on her ankles. She felt a tingle of excitement as her ankles were secured in steel. Up to that point she might have been able to run out, or at least try. But after the final click, she was truly a prisoner.
Her shoes came off easily and the dress followed. It was only a light weight summer dress with thin straps that Henry easily undid so the dress would slip off and fall to the floor. After locking her in Sandy's cell, he picked up the clothing and departed. If there was any kind of special feelings between him and Sandy. Michelle could not read it in his face. He had virtually ignored the blonde slavegirl.
So Michelle and Sandy talked. There was nothing else to do. After the talk and speculation of what life would be like now died down, they considered the possibility of making love to each other. But they were not sure when Mistress Marla would return - it might be any second - and were a little fearful of discovery. Not that lesbian sex was frowned on around that place, but any kind of sex without Mistress Marla's direct permission might be against the house rules and a punishable offense.
It was nearly dinner lime when their new owner made her appearance. "Well, well, it has come to pass. Just as I said it would," she said cheerfully. "I now have both of these delightful slaves."
"I told you over the phone," protested Michelle mildly, 'I'm only willing to try it for a month."
"And if I were simply to keep you after the month was over...'?" teased Marla.
"But... You promised..."
"I don't recall promising anything. But we'll see at the end of the month. Perhaps I'll not want you any longer. Or perhaps I'll want to keep both of you forever."
"But..."
"Hush, now. You're a slavegirl now. A full-time slavegirl. That means twenty-four hours a day, every day. And it is my choice if you are every to become anything else."
Michelle shut up. Perhaps Marla was only teasing her. So far she had kept her word to both of them. She had many times been a complete captive in this house and yet been released when Marla said she would. She could only hope that was also the case this time. There was really little she could do about it otherwise.
"I think that I'll play a little game with my new slave. But after dinner." Marla smiled at both of the naked girls and left.
"You'll like it, the food is great," enthused Sandy.
The food was, indeed, great. Henry brought it down on silver trays, unlocking Sandy's hands from behind her and relocking them in front so she could easily eat. Later the trays were cleared away and both girls had a couple hours to digest their dinner before Marla and Henry came for them.
"This game is simple," began Marla as Henry added the finishing touches to Michelle's bondage. "You simply have to move each of those glasses of water from that side of the room to the other without spilling a drop. Simple, no?"
Michelle nodded because she could not speak. Her mouth was filled with a rubber wedge gag, tightly strapped in place with leather straps around her head. She was naked save for a pair of high heels and the ropes binding her. The high heels were the kind with an ankle strap so she couldn't slip them off. Her arms were bound tightly behind her back, palm to palm, and elbows together.
She was standing in the middle of the room, a plain room decorated only with three metal rings about neck height on each wall opposite the door. There were a dozen drinking glasses of water on the floor by one wall. Each was filled to within an inch of the top and stood only an inch away from the wall. Sandy had been brought in and bound against the middle wall in such a way so she couldn't help Michelle. Sandy's arms were bound behind her back like Michelle's and her legs were also bound at the ankles and above the knees. In addition her silver neck collar was locked to the wall ring by a single padlock, preventing her from leaving that wall. She was also gagged with a rubber, steel, and leather harness that was both cruelly tight and effective. She would be an observer but unable to help her friend.
Michelle was looking at the glasses and thinking that this might not be too hard. She could maybe bend straight down and pick up a glass with her bound hands. Then moving them wouldn't be much problem.
But Mistress Marla wasn't the kind to give her slavegirls such an easy task. At a nod from her, Henry added another piece of rope and changed the whole game. He tied one end of a short length to the ropes around her elbows. Then he passed the other end through a ring on back of the harness gag. When he pulled Michelle found her head tilting up and backward. By the time he tied the rope at her elbows, her head was under considerable strain and she found herself looking straight up at the ceiling. She could move her head a little to either side but regaining a normal position was impossible. She whined through the gag but could not speak her protest.
"I think that adds some interest to the game, don't you?" Marla was cheerful. "Of course, we must give you some incentive to move the glasses or you'll just stand there for the whole hour. So... If you haven't moved all those glasses to the other wall by the time I come back, or if you've spilled even one drop, your bottom will be severely whipped with the riding crop. And you'll remain bound like this all night. And you'll wear nipple clamps all night. And..." she added sweetly, "you'll get no sex tonight."
Michelle whined again. "I'm glad you agree to the rules. Okay, have fun!"
She and Henry left the room, locking the door behind them.
Michelle first tested the bondage holding her arms imprisoned behind her. The ropes were solid, tight and the knots far from her fingers. She would not be freeing her arms. Then she tried to force out the rubber wedge but that was impossible. Likewise was bringing her head back to anything like a normal position. Sandy seemed to be trying to tell her something but she ignored her also helpless friend.
She tried lowering herself straight down and almost fell over on the glasses. With her head held straight upward, she couldn't keep her balance. What would have been simple had her head not been pulled back now became the impossible. She felt as if she would fall backwards if she tried that again. Perhaps if she were to rest the top of her head against the wall and lower herself with that as a steadying aid...
She tired it and got her fingers to touch the top edge of one glass. But it was awkward to say the least and she wasn't sure she would be able to hold on to the smooth glass as she rose back up.
It was then that she found out the trap. When she tried to rise back up, she couldn't. Pushing with her legs only arched her body. The problem was with her head pressing hard against the wall. She finally had to hop her head up the wall in tiny little jumps accompanied by exerting her leg muscles. When she finally was standing again, she rested. An hour was a long time to move a dozen glasses and she needed to consider this problem carefully.
Her next attempt was to slide the glass gently with one toe. The floor was just uneven enough to make this a difficult task but what was worse was the fact that she couldn't see the floor.
Even tilting her head as much as she could to one side, she couldn't see the floor under her. She would have to find the glass and push it by feel.
If only she could see, she told herself. Then she remembered that there was a set of eyes in the room that could see the glasses. Sandy! If she could only get Sandy to tell her when she was near the glass...
Sandy seemed to have caught on for she was making loud squealing sounds whenever Michelle's foot came near a glass. Michelle used that to let her know when she was near one and was actually able to put the side of her foot against one glass and begin sliding it along the floor. It was very slow work and had to be done totally by feel. Then she understood why the high heels had the ankle strap. It would have been easier for her if she could have kicked the shoes off and used a bare foot.
With agonizing slowness the naked slavegirl move the glasses across the room. Dozens of times the glasses caught on some unevenness on the floor and had to be eased around the obstacle. There was no watch to let her know how much time she had left, but Michelle was getting worried that the limit was approaching too far. It was while worrying about the time that she made the mistake of loosing concentration. The glass caught on a tiny projection of the uneven floor and, with a loud clunk, tipped over. Sandy sighed as a large puddle of water proclaimed a whole night's torment for Michelle.
Michelle might have simply rested until her owner came to discover her failure, but instead she went back and worked on the next glass. In all, she had eight of them moved by the time Marla came back. There was no reason to continue the awkward efforts, she simply continued because she had been ordered to do so.
"So, you have spilled a glass," said Marla sadly. "And not moved all of them. Well, I guess I'll have to carry out the punishments I promised. Henry!"
Michelle was picked up and carried to the big dungeon where she was hung upside down by the ankles. A rope was tied to her wrists and that used to pull her arms down towards the floor and away from her bottom. It was an awkward and uncomfortable position but Michelle didn't have long to worry about that part. Mistress Marla was standing behind her with a riding crop in her hand as soon as Henry had finished binding Sandy to a post where she could watch.
From the first blow to the last, Marla smiled and uttered pleasantries while her newest slavegirl suffered. The blows were stinging and soon her whole bottom was glowing red and felt on fire. It was almost an hour before Marla had finished the whipping, a very long time to a suspended and suffering slavegirl. When Mistress Marla and the riding crop had left the room, Henry attached the promised nipple clamps before lowering the sobbing girl to the floor. Her ankles were left bound together and she was carried from the dungeon to Marla's bedroom in Henry's strong arms. There the rope dangling from her ankles was passed through one of the wall rings and her legs pulled up until all of them, and Michelle's bottom, were off the carpet. The rope was knotted tightly and Michelle was afraid this was the way she would have to spend the entire night.
Her fears were correct. She remained with tightly bound arms and legs pulled up all night. She remained gagged for the entire period, and her nipples ached and burned long into the night.
But perhaps worse than her physical discomforts was what she had to watch. Sandy was brought in, naked, wrists shackled with handcuffs, ankles joined with leg irons. She stood submissively by the bed until Marla entered, fresh from a shower, lovely in her own nakedness and ready for the next part of the evening's entertainment. Michelle didn't want to watch but she found herself viewing every second of Sandy's lesbian services of their mistress. And feeling terribly horny, even for a long time after the activity on the bed had ceased.
Thus was slave Michelle's first night of slavery.
7
Torture and Frustration in the House of Pain
At the end of Michelle's first night as a full time slavegirl, she was sore and ached in many places, notably her jaw from the gag, her arms from the tight ropes that had held her elbows together all night, and her ankles from the ropes that had held her legs up to the ring on the wall of Marla's bedroom. Oh, and her nipples from the small but very effective nipple clamps that had adorned them all night. Her bottom was sore and somewhat painful to sit on. And she was still horny when dawn found her to be followed shortly by Henry who freed her legs and helped her from the bedroom retreat of her mistress. The gag was left on until they were well clear of the room to assure the continued sleep of the two girls intertwined on the bed.
It was not really needed, for when the gag was removed, Michelle could still not talk for almost half an hour while her jaw muscles tired to unlock. The ache in her jaw had become the most demanding pain of all towards morning. Perhaps it was because she was used to sleeping with arms bound behind her but not with such a huge gag forced into her mouth.
Henry removed the ropes and allowed her to clean herself in a luxurious bathroom. After she was clean and even her hair repaired from the evening of torture, she was handcuffed, given a breakfast, and led to the cell next to Sandy's where she almost instantly fell asleep on the hard wood bench. It was mid afternoon when she awoke to find Sandy staring at her from the adjoining cell. "You all right?" Sandy asked.
"Yeah. I guess. Still a little sore in my rear. But otherwise okay."
"I was trying to tell you what to do." "What?" asked Michelle.
"In the room with the glasses," her blonde friend replied. "I was trying to tell you there was a way to get the glasses moved."
"And how was that?"
"Well, Mistress Marla played the same little game with me when I first came here. I guess I didn't tell you about. Anyway, she had Rebecca tied to the wall like I was. I just figured she was there to watch, but Rebecca later told me that she was the secret to moving the glasses."
"But how could she help you? Or, for that matter, how could you have helped me? You couldn't talk. And I guess Rebecca couldn't either?"
"That's right. Rebecca was gagged, too. But the trick is for the girl who can walk to go over to the girl who is tied to the wall and they both turn their backs to each other. Then they work on the ropes until one of them gets free. If I had gotten free, I could have untied your arms, including the elbows. If you had gotten free, you could have used your hands better. Or just untied my hands so I could untie your elbows. You know what I mean."
"Yes, I can see that. But isn't that cheating? I mean, wouldn't Marla punish us for untying our ropes? Okay, before you correct me, I mean Mistress Marla."
"No. She didn't say that freeing ourselves would be against the rules. There's sort of a rule around here. If a slavegirl can free herself from any ropes or chains or whatever, she won't be punished. Chances are whoever tied her will be punished instead for doing a bad job. If that someone were a slave, of course. And of course," added Sandy, "attempting to escape out the door is another matter. That will get you a real punishment."
"So all I had to do was walk over and untie your hands, then you untie mine, and I would not have had to spend a miserable night?"
" 'Fraid so. Sometimes Mistress Marla leaves a way out of her contests. If you're smart enough to figure it out."
"Guess I failed on that account. I'll try to remember next time."
For a long time neither of them said a word. Michelle felt pretty silly for not thinking of so simple an answer to the task Mistress Marla had given her.
After dinner had been served and taken away, Henry removed Michelle from her cell and took her to the big dungeon. There her leg irons were removed and her feet installed in the floor pillory, that box-like set of stocks that closed around a girl's ankles while she was standing on the floor. Then her wrists were freed from the handcuffs and bound with very tight, thin cord. But they were crossed and her elbows were not bound at all so she considered this mild bondage.
But then a funny thing happened. Henry produced a bra into which he sprinkled large quantities of a white powder. Then he placed the bra over Michelle's large breasts and hooked it in back. The straps went over her shoulders and the bra was on her with no way she could get it off, lacking hands as she did.
Then Henry left her alone in the dungeon, switching off the lights as he closed the door.
Michelle wondered about this punishment. Having to stand in the dark with your hands bound behind you and your ankles locked in wooden stocks wasn't too bad. But that white powder worried her and her worst fears were soon realized. The itching began as a slight irritation of her nipples. Then it grew until all of her breasts were burning and itching like crazy. It was maddening, a torment she could do nothing about. Her hands could not reach the bra, nor could they reach the hooks in back between her elbows. The closest she could come was to just touch a fingertip to the lower edge of the bra on one side.
And the fiendish cunning of this torment was driven home to her when she realized that she couldn't even roll around on the floor. With her legs locked a few feet apart, she was forced to stand. She could not lowered herself to the floor, she could not even fall down. All she could do was wiggle and shake and do a strange dance of agony in the complete darkness. Her mouth was free of gag and she could cry out or protest or beg all she wanted. But it would do no good. She was alone in a soundproof room.
Minutes seemed like hours and the hours were unending. She cursed then pleaded aloud in hopes that someone was actually listening to her. She felt like screaming and did towards the end. But it was all to no avail. The torture continued, a terrible torture that would leave no mark on her body save for a redness of the breasts that would fade by the next morning.
Later that night Henry came to remove her from the stocks. But he left her hands bound behind her as he led her from the darkness to the bathroom. There he removed the bra to the accompaniment of her thanks but again left her hands bound. As he soaped and cleaned her breasts of the hated white powder, he explained that if he were to free her hands before the powder was all removed, she might have injured the soft flesh by scratching with her fingernails. Reluctantly she had to agree for the urge to scratch vigorously was still present even after he had cleaned them with soap and water. Actually, his attentions felt rather good and his hands were surprisingly gentle.
When she was clean, she was returned to her cell with hands still bound. Henry carefully explained that the itching would diminish but continue for some time and it was best to make sure that her hands would not be able to reach them. She thanked him for his concern.
The cell door locked shut on the newest slavegirl of this house of pain and ended her first full day as a slave of Mistress Marla. Sandy didn't return until after breakfast the next morning, having spent the night again in the bed of their mistress.
"Come here," said Mistress Marla in an imperial voice. "Kneel."
Michelle did as she was ordered, shuffling over to stand before her mistress then sinking to the floor as gracefully as a girl can when her wrists are handcuffed behind her and her ankles joined by leg irons. She also bowed her head, for good measure.
Marla walked slowly around the kneeling girl, lightly lapping a riding crop against her thigh. Decision made, she turned to Henry, gave one curt order, and left the room of Sandy's and Michelle's cells. The order had been simply, "The wall."
Henry told Michelle to follow him and the two of them left Sandy still locked in her cell, not to mention handcuffs and leg irons which were the usual restraints for a slavegirl in this house. When they reached the main dungeon, a slow progress because of the shortness of the chain between Michelle's ankles, she was ordered over to one wall, the only one made of wood in the whole room. The handcuffs were unlocked and placed aside. Then she was backed against the wall and her arms raised to either side. There were wide leather strap attached to the wall, one at the right position for each wrist if the arms were spread in a V and straight. Another was directly behind her and tightly secured her tummy to the wall. With arms and body firmly attached to the wall, Henry knelt and look Michelle's left ankle in hand to spread that leg wide and strap it to the wall at least a foot off the floor. As the other foot was pulled to the side, she felt her weight settle onto her arms and the tight strap around the narrowest part of her waist.
When the last ankle was secured, she was not touching the floor but still the position wasn't too bad. Most of her weight was taken by that strap around her middle and made it cut in. Her spread eagle position made her feel vulnerable, wide open, and wondering what else might coining.
But Henry added no more bondage, nor did he attach any kind of instrument of torment. He simply checked all the straps and left.
It was a strange situation for Michelle. She had come to expect either pain or pleasure from Mistress Marla. But this was really neither. The discomfort from being hung on the wall might increase as time wore on, but it was mild compared to most of the torments suffered in this house. Perhaps the worst part of this day's torture would be the boredom from being alone.
For a while Michelle experimented with her restrictions, twisting this way and that, trying to reach buckles with fingers, mostly just to pass the time. She gained no advantage over the straps, no progress towards freedom, but she had not expected to.
As the hours wore on, Michelle found that her thoughts constantly were returning to her mistress and the sight of Sandy laying contentedly beside her, their black and blonde hair intermingled on the red silk sheets. Pangs of jealousy made her moan and long for the time when she would be the one laying there, satisfied after lovemaking with the mistress who owned her - at least for a while.
As the day wore on, Michelle found her thoughts more and more of sex, with Marla, Sandy, and even with Henry. She longed for him to return, hoping that the available position she was in with its wide spread legs, would tempt him. Before long she was regretting that she could not even touch herself. She could only hang in her straps and feel frustration. And wonder what tonight would bring.
Evening brought release from the wall, but not release from the sexual desire that had slowly grown during the day. Michelle was one girl who enjoyed being tied up and found it very exciting. But the male who unbuckled her straps had not shown the slightest interest in using her body, and Michelle had dared not suggest what was on her mind. She was horny but didn't yet understand all the rules of this slavery. To ask Henry for sex might break some unknown rule and bring severe punishment upon her. So she contented herself with the feel of his strong hands upon those parts of her body necessary for removing her from the wall and relocking the handcuffs and leg irons on her.
Dinner was served in the kitchen for a change. Sandy was there, still naked and secured with handcuffs and leg irons. Rebecca was nowhere in sight. The food, served by a female cook, was excellent, as usual. The cook was apparently used to serving naked and chained girls for she ignored the condition of the two girls at her table.
After dinner both girls were allowed to bath and tidy themselves up. They took turns soaping each other in the large bathtub, a game little hindered by the joining of their wrists before them. The leg irons were removed to make the bath easier, and there were portions of the procedure where the intimacy rekindled the fire in Michelle's loins. Soon both she and Sandy were engaged in far more stroking and grabbing and kissing than needed to insure cleanliness. Michelle lowered her joined hands over Sandy, locking the blonde's arms to her side and pressing their bodies together. Their kiss was long and passionate.
Normal lesbian sex was not possible in the bathtub, but the two hungry girls did a good job of stimulating each other. Sandy's talented hands teased Michelle under the bubbly water to almost bring her to an orgasm. Surely it would have followed had not Henry chose that moment to enter. "Mistress Marla wishes your presence," he informed, ignoring the female embrace before him.
"We'd better go immediately," said Sandy. Michelle didn't disagree. It was most pleasant in that warm, bubbly water with Sandy but the fear of a displeased mistress was far greater. They untangled their limbs and exited the tub.
"One of you will share my bed tonight," said Mistress Marla. "And one of you will be tightly bound up in an uncomfortable position for the night and allowed only to watch. But which of you will lay comfortably in bed and which will suffer from tight ropes all night?"
Michelle dared not speak. She wanted very much to be the one in bed, touching and being touched. But she was not sure about Marla. Could this be a trick? If she asked for the bed, would that condemn her to the other fate? It would be very much in character for a mistress to deny what a slavegirl asked for. So Michelle said nothing.
"Mistress," said Sandy, "I have had the pleasure of serving you for several nights now. Perhaps it would be nice if you allowed Michelle to do it. I don't mind being tied up all night."
Marla said nothing. The silence lengthened as both girls held their breath. At stake was a night of pleasure or a night of discomfort. Finally she smiled. "Slave Sandy, bend over." When the naked girl had obeyed, her mistress lashed her a good one across the available cheeks with her ever-present riding crop. "Get in bed," came the order.
Sandy obeyed but with a backwards glance towards Michelle. She had tried, and both girls knew that it would not be wise to press the issue. When their mistress made up her mind, that was that.
Henry came in with a large collection of ropes in his hands. Michelle sighed and wondered how she would be fixed for the night.
Henry began with the arms, as usual. They were bound behind her with elbows touching. The cord used was not the thinnest so there was not as much pain from the beginning as she had experienced before. Not that she would be comfortable during the long night - far from it. Then ropes bound her arms to her body, encircled her breasts, cut into her tummy, and made any movement with her arms impossible. Then her legs were bound together at the ankles, above and below the knees with tight, masterful ropes.
A rubber and leather strap gag was added, and speech was impossible. A leather collar was strapped around her neck, a collar with two built-in metal rings, one in front and one in back. Henry then lifted the bound and naked girl and deposited her against one wall. The back ring of her neck collar was locked to a ring in the wall and Michelle's restraints for the night were finished. She was forced to stand, made completely helpless, and facing the bed where her girlfriend was laying along side their mistress, already sucking on her fine breasts. Michelle wanted to moan.
As Michelle had feared, it was a long night. It seemed to her that Marla and Sandy made love for hours before they both fell asleep. And those were very frustrating hours for the bound girl forced to stand and watch. A smoldering fire heated her loms but all she could do was grab her own ass and squeeze, a frustrating and not very pleasing substitute for touching those places she longed to touch.
By pressing her body against the wall, Michelle found that she could get some rest in snatches of sleep but most of the night was spent awake with the sight of Marla and Sandy together on the bed. Marla had unlocked Sandy's leg irons and their bodies were intertwined most of the night in a manner to make Michelle want to moan. Only a pair of silvery handcuffs marked which was the slave and which the mistress.
The days passed slowly, far more slowly than Michelle had expected. Sandy had been right, being a slavegirl was mostly boredom for long periods between intense pleasure and intense pair.. It was a full week before Michelle was allowed into the bed of her mistress, and then only after she had been tightly bound up so that her arms and legs were useless. With great difficulty she managed to position her mouth were she could give lip and tongue service to her mistress. Yet, by then she was so frustrated that even the simple act of giving oral sex to another woman seemed wonderful to her. The fact that afterwards she was literally kicked out of bed and onto the carpet to spend the night with a body aching from overly tight ropes did little to dim her pleasure at having been allowed to serve.
After two weeks she was allowed in bed with Sandy and Marla with only her ankles joined by leg irons and her wrists secured behind her by handcuffs. By the third week she was allowed in bed with only her hands cuffed but she still have to return to her cell for the night. Michelle wondered why it was that Sandy was so favored as to be allowed to sleep all night with their mistress while she was not.
The daily routine was rarely varied. After breakfast and a chance to clean themselves, the slavegirls were put into some kind of restraints for the day. Often it meant simply sitting in their cells in handcuffs and leg irons. But often there was a pillory or stocks or even being tied to a post to provide variety.
And there were punishments. But they came and went with little rhyme or reason. Some days Michelle or Sandy, or both, would be punished, made to ride the horse or endure some painfully tight bondage. Other days not. But they never knew why. Michelle finally decided that it was simply to make them suffer.
And there were punishments from Mistress Marla's hand, whippings, clamps upon the nipples, and a few times a canning across the bare bottom with a slender yellow cane that hurt like hell and made Michelle cry out with every stroke.
One evening during the fifth week it amused Mistress Marla to see her newest slavegirl bound to a chair and have to take Henry's massive tool in her mouth. Under orders she worked the shaft in and out of her mouth, licked it with her tongue, and generally gave all the attentions a female mouth can give to an erect male phallus. It must have felt good to Henry but mostly it just made Michelle hornier.
Sex was a lot rarer than Michelle had expected, perhaps, she wondered, as a part of "keeping her in her place." Or perhaps simply as a part of the ongoing punishments. Michelle was kept from her friend Sandy by a mean mistress who keep them in separate cells at night. If Sandy was getting sex from Henry, and she assured her friend that she was, it was never done before Michelle.
Occasionally Michelle caught sight of Rebecca and had to admit that the redheaded slavegirl was certainly being treated differently from her and Sandy. Their usual restrictions consisted of handcuffs and leg irons. But Rebecca was rarely, if ever, secured by anything less than tight ropes. Michelle often saw her in the big dungeon, usually bound to one of the posts with a great quantity of tight ropes, and securely gagged with one of those rubber, leather and steel things that Michelle hated.
One day as Michelle was being led down a corridor, she passed an open door through which she saw Rebecca riding the horse. Another time she saw the redhead suspended by her wrists with weights hanging from her bound ankles. But mostly Rebecca was nowhere to be seen, and the two slavegirls assumed that she was off someplace in the house being punished. They speculated often about why Rebecca was treated so differently from themselves, but could come to no conclusion. Questions to Henry went unanswered, and they dared not ask Marla. Henry did let it slip one day that Rebecca was kept in constant bondage of one form or another. When Michelle replied to the effect that so were she and Sandy, Henry grinned and told her that wearing handcuffs and leg irons was nothing compared to what Rebecca went through daily. And he should know because he was the one who "fixed" her up each day and then again for each night. Michelle got the impression that with her and Sandy as resident slavegirls, Rebecca was getting far less personal attention from their Mistress than before.
Then came the end of a month of captivity, the amount of time Michelle had agreed to serve as a slavegirl. That evening Marla took it in her mind to use Sandy as a foot stool while she sipped brandy in the lounge. Sandy's arms were bound behind her and then she had to kneel and bend over for Marla to rest her feet upon the slavegirl's back. Michelle was merely handcuffed and kneeling next to her mistress' chair. It was a quiet time and looked like the evening's entertainment would not begin for a while, so Michelle ventured a question.
"It has been one month since I came here, Mistress," she said tentatively. "If I were to ask you to release me, would you do it?"
Marla didn't answer for a long time. Finally she said, "No."
"Then I won't ask," said Michelle. It was not a sign of submission but rather a lack of desire to push the issue. Michelle was a prisoner in this house. She was under constant restrains, constantly naked, and reminded with daily punishments that she was a slave. Demanding her freedom would only anger her mistress and she did not wish to do that. Yet she could not let the matter drop completely.
"Please understand that from this moment on you are holding me against my will," she said simply and without anger in her voice.
"Of course, dear! Most slaves are held against their will." She sipped a little more brandy. "Tonight," she began, changing the subject, "we will hang slave Michelle up by her wrists and whip her with a strap."
Later, while hanging from sore wrists and dancing on air to the tune of stinging blows from a thin leather strap, Michelle wondered if she would ever be free again. It was both wonderful and terrible to be a slave under a stem mistress. But Michelle was coming to the conclusion that it was not really the full time profession for her.
Exactly ten weeks to the day after Michelle walked through Marla's front door with her wrists secured behind her by her own hand, Sandy was sold.
8
Slave Trading
"Actually," said Marla with a smile, "I didn't really sell Sandy. I traded her for another slavegirl named Erika. Lovely girl, you'll like her. She will be here tomorrow."
"But you sold Sandy? Why? How could you do that? I..." Michelle's protests were cut abruptly short by the sting of a riding crop across her breast.
"The subject is closed, dear little slavegirl. We shall speak of it no more." Marla walked a half circle around the naked, chained and kneeling girl before her. "For tonight I think a nice hogtie in one of the dungeons. I'll have to sleep alone but that's the price you have to pay to keep your slavegirls remembering what they are. Henry!"
Michelle was taken to her cell where Henry encased her in many windings of rope then put her on her stomach and secured her ankles to her wrists in a classic hogtie. It was tight, uncomfortable and, of course, inescapable. Michelle cried herself to sleep that night but very little of her sorrow was from the painfully tight ropes.
The next morning she met Erika. The new slavegirl was blonde, a classical Scandinavian beauty, with long golden hair half way down her back. She also possessed a very shapely figure with full, round breasts and muscular legs. That fact that she was nearly Henry's height did little to distract from her beauty or the sexiness she projected. Michelle would certainly have been interested in playing with this gorgeous creature if she were not so sad and mixed up over loosing Sandy.
Erika was delivered to Mistress Marla in the morning by a delivery van, packed into a large wooden box. When Henry unscrewed numerous large screws then pried the lid off. it was to reveal a very naked and lovely woman of around twenty-two, well bound, well gagged, and still alive courtesy of carefully placed air holes. The inside of the box was padded to hold one extra large female form. That form had been tied with numerous windings of rope to make her a prisoner even without the box. A blindfold covered the eyes and the entire bottom half of her face was covered with some kind of leather harness, strapped on tightly. With the lid in place and screwed down, Michelle was quiet sure that this girl could not move a muscle.
Michelle stood by as Erika was removed from the box and the blindfold and gag taken off. The lovely blonde blinked as if she had not seen daylight for some time. And she could barely work her jaw, so strained were the muscles from the rubber wad that had filled it for what was obviously a long time. She could also not use her limbs after the ropes were peeled off and meekly allowed her wrists to be joined behind her back with handcuffs. It was only with Henry's help that she could stand to be led to her cell.
Mistress Marla stood by, smiling with approval at her newest acquisition. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" she enthused. "I wanted her from the first moment I saw her. Lady Sonya didn't know what she had. Look how big and strong she is, and yet how completely helpless she was in that box."
"Yes, Mistress," replied Michelle, not sure if a reply was expected from her.
"I'll have to keep an eye on her. Normal bondage may not be enough. We'll have to take extra precautions with this slave."
"Mistress Marla?"
"Yes?"
"How long has she been in that box?" Michelle asked. "About twenty-four hours. She was flown from Sweden to Mexico on a private jet. It's no problem to land down there and disembark a box without customs checking anything - if you bribe the right people. Likewise to get a box put on a commercial airline for the United States. I've found that the easiest way to get a slave into this country is to simply box her up and have it come in as merchandise. Much easier than bringing in a person who has no passport and who is in chains. Don't you agree?"
"Yes, Mistress." Michelle could see a certain logic to it but mainly she was trying to imagine what Erika had gone through during the shipment. Being totally helpless, blind, silent and immobile for a full twenty-four hours while you're being flown, driven and handled by strangers was quite an impressive feat. And more than a little exciting to think about. Of course, Erika had very little to say about it. She was simply a mute and immobile piece of baggage. Michelle shivered and wondered if she would ever be shipped that way.
Then a thought hit her. "Mistress, did you ship Sandy out like that?"
Marla smiled at Michelle. "Of course, dear little slavegirl. She was boxed up last night while you were in your cell and shipped out late last night. By now she's on a plane..." Marla glanced at her watch. "And about to land in a distant country, ready to assume her new life as a slavegirl for a new owner."
"May I ask who you sold her to?"
"Well, actually I traded her. You see, Lady Sonya wanted this really cute French girl. But she was owned by Sheik Abdul Hassin. Hassin, on the other hand likes American blondes. So I traded Sandy to Hassin, who traded Monique to Lady Sonya, who traded Erika to me. Simple, no?"
"Yes, Mistress." Michelle was coming to find that it was best to say, "Yes, Mistress", often and whenever something else wanted to spring from her lips.
"Oh, my little slavegirl looks sad." said Marla sarcastically. "Perhaps a little whipping would pick up her spirits?"
"It's just that I expected Sandy and I would be slavegirls together."
"Slaves don't have a say in what happens to them. Surely you've learned that lesson by now." "Yes, Mistress."
Marla stared at Michelle, probably wondering how sincere her submission was. Finally she ordered Michelle to her feet and walk with her. They ended the short walk in a little cell that held only a ring at head height. As soon as Michelle was inside, Marla closed the door, leaving her slavegirl alone. Michelle idly tired it but the door was locked from the outside. Most of these little mini-dungeons of Marla's could be locked from the outside. Michelle sighed and sat down on the hard floor to await her fate.
A few hours Henry entered. Motioning Michelle to her feet, he produced a tiny handcuff key which he used to free her hands from behind her. But freedom, as it always is in that place, was short lived. A rope loop was almost immediately around her wrists and she had to stand there while her arms were corded tightly behind her back, with special attention to getting her elbows tightly together. Her legs followed, being bound at the ankles and again just above the knees. Henry left but returned with a leather collar which he buckled around her neck, and a rubber wad gag which he placed in her submissively open mouth and strapped tightly on. Michelle hated those gags but had to admit that they were certainly effective. The only noise she could make were small whines through her nose.
A padlock secured her neck collar to the ring in the wall and Michelle found herself standing by the wall, unable to walk, sit or free herself. Henry left and again she was alone.
The ropes hurt but Michelle was used to that. What occupied her mind was the image of Sandy being bound tightly and secured into a box for shipment. She could imagine the feeling of the gag (not hard with one filling her mouth as she thought about
the blindfold corning down over her eyes to make her blind, and the tight ropes. She wondered what Sandy felt as the lid was screwed tightly over her. Did she know what was happening? Or where she was going? Knowing Sandy, Michelle was fairly certain the young blonde was probably having a sexual orgasm as the lid was being screwed on. The
thought of being boxed up and shipped to a sheik to be part of area! harem was warming Michelle's loins. She would hate to have it happen to her, but it was exciting to think about.
Just when Michelle was beginning to think that spending the day in this rope bondage was her punishment de jour, Henry came in and proceeded to set a dozen glasses of water against one wall. Michelle immediately recognized the little game Marla had played on her, and it wasn't hard to guess that Erika was about to have it played on her. A minute later the blonde was brought in to confirm Michelle conjecture. The girl was naked, with arms bound behind her, a harness gag on her head, and a pair of high heels with ankle straps on her feet. Mistress Marla explained to Erika what she was to do and smiled as Henry tied the rope linking her harness gag and elbows. There was a lot of confusion and fear in her eyes as she realized that she was to perform the given task while her head was held in that uncomfortable and awkward position. Then Marla and Henry were gone.
For a while Erika straggled against the ropes, fighting them with a considerable show of anger and strength. But even a girl as big as Erika who looked easily as strong as most men could do nothing about the ropes holding her arms prisoner behind her. Angry grants and whines escaped from behind her gag but in the end she was only exhausted and still bound.
Erika was still regaining her strength after her fierce straggles as Michelle considered her actions. She knew the trick to solving this contest but should she help this new girl? Her first reaction was negative - let the girl figured it out herself. If she didn't, then too bad for her. There was a kind of anger against the beautiful slave, as if it were her fault that Sandy was gone. But then Michelle figured that Erika was probably just a pawn in these games, the same as she and Sandy. And Rebecca. A slavegirl has enough problems without negative feelings from her sister slavegirls.
A few grunts got Erika's attention. Michelle turned her back as much as she could and wiggled her fingers. Then she tried to point to Erika's bound wrists and reach towards them with her fingers. Perhaps Erika mistook the invitation for she snorted and turned her back to Michelle. But whatever the reason, she never did try to help Michelle free her hands so she could get help in return.
The tall blonde quickly found that she couldn't bend down to get the glasses in her hand and turned to the trick of sliding them over the floor with her foot. Michelle sighed. She knew that only failure waited, a certainty that was confirmed when the second glass tipped over to tinkle against the stone floor and spread a wet spot. Michelle smiled inwardly. At least she had gotten half the glasses move to the other wall before spilling one.
Erika grunted in anger and kicked the wall. Then she kicked over all the glasses, breaking some of them. Boy, thought Michelle, this girl's got one bad temper. Then Erika leaned against the wall in one corner and smoldered. Michelle felt a surge of amusement at the thought of what Marla would say to such a rebellious slavegirl.
Mistress Marla took in the whole scene and smiled with genuine happiness. "Oh, joy! A rebellious slavegirl! What fun it will be to train her." She turned to Michelle, "Did you try to help her? Never mind, it doesn't matter. Apparently she didn't want help. You know, Michelle, that's the one thing you and Sandy lacked: rebellion. Both of you were practically fully trained slaves the moment you first walked in. Not an ounce of fight in either of you." She smiled and patted Michelle's flank with the riding crop. "But with Erika here I will have some fun. And I'd better be careful, if she gets loose I probably would not be able to physically control her. Such a big, powerful woman! And so helpless! I'm sure you understand, Michelle."
Michelle did, in a way, understand. Even though loving every second that Sandy had keep her in bondage and teased her helpless body, Michelle had a dominant streak and could easily understand the challenge and enjoyment of training a woman like this Erika to be a submissive slavegirl. The thought of having a tightly bound Erika crawling across the floor to perform acts of lesbian love upon her thrilled Michelle.
Henry and Marla took Erika away to some unknown and probably painful fate, leaving Michelle still bound and shackled to the wail. She sighed. Marla had a new toy to play with and she would probably be ignored. Then she wondered if that was how Rebecca felt. Perhaps all that extra tight, extra painful bondage and punishments she knew Rebecca almost constantly had to endure were because Rebecca had rebelled against the attention Sandy, and then Michelle, had gotten from her mistress. But no, Rebecca had been treated harshly from the first time they saw her, long before they became slaves themselves.
But Michelle had to wonder what was her fate. Would Marla become so engrossed in playing with this new toy that she would loose interest in Michelle? What would happen then? Would Michelle become like Rebecca, constantly punished? Or would Marla find some other new and exciting slavegirl and trade Michelle for her? Would Michelle find herself being boxed up for shipment to some horrible fate in a few weeks?
Conjecture is one of the only amusements a slavegirl has to pass the time. That and imagination. Michelle had been finding out that her imagination could become pretty fertile during long hours of restriction. So she imagined terrible tortures for Marla, once she got free and took over the house. She would bind up her owner so tightly that she couldn't move a muscle. Then she would tickled her all over for hours on end. She had heard or read somewhere that prolonged tickling can drive a girl mad. How long would it take? Or was that some kind of old-wives tale and not really true.
And then she considered how she would suspend Marla by her ankles over vats of horrible liquids and dunk her repeated until only her wiggling feet would be visible. She would pull the sputtering and dripping girl out before she drowned. After all, you can't get much amusement out of a dead slavegirl. But then the dunking would go on. It helped pass many hours imaging what you could put into a vat. Honey? Vinegar? Slimy swamp water? Boiling acid? And other, much more gross and unmentionable substances were considered in loving detail.
But there was little real anger in her heart. It was more a means of passing long, boring periods of confinement.
In mid afternoon Henry came for her, untying her legs and unlocking the collar from the wall ring. Michelle was led down a hall to one of the small rooms, one she knew well. Inside Erika was already astride the wooden wedge that they called the 'horse." The Swedish blonde was sitting on the wooden edge in much the same position as Sandy and Michelle had spent tormented hours; legs spread wide and tied to the walls arms bound behind with elbows together and brought up until the girl was forced to lean forward, and small but effective nipple clamps. Michelle noted immediately that the girl wasn't gagged. Erika glared at Henry but said nothing. But Michelle could tell that there was a lot this big blonde wanted to say. She was hurting and angry. Michelle felt Henry's strong hands on her waist and suddenly she was lifted into the air only to be set down on the horse, facing Erika. She did not fight being placed on the horse. It would serve nothing and probably only get her additional punishment. Henry secured her ankles and spread her legs away from the wooden wedge. Then he tied a rope to her wrist bondage and pulled her arms up behind her.
It hurt immediately, the horse is like that. But that pain will also grow, Michelle knew from bitter experience. Henry checked all of Erika's bondage and then left without giving even a hint as to how long these two slavegirls would ride the horse. Michelle hoped not long.
"My name is Michelle," she offered. "I know your name Erika." Erika looked up into her eyes but said nothing. "Do you speak English?" Michelle asked.
"Yes. A little." Her accent was heavy, as if she had only few classes in English in high school as many Europeans do.
"Well, did anyone tell you how long we'll be up here." Michelle was trying to make conversation but she also wanted to know.
"Not know."
"Oh. Have you been a slavegirl long?"
Michelle regretted asking as soon as the words were out. It was a stupid question and sounded like some guy asking a girl if she came to that bar often, or what sign she was.
Erika added some puzzlement to the pain in her face.
"Never mind. Look, don't worry, this hurts but it doesn't kill a girl. Have you ever ridden the horse before?"
"Horse? I ride horses at home. This is horse? Not good."
"Yes, not good. Have you ever been tortured like this before?"
"Hurts."
"Yes, it hurts," agreed Michelle.
"I think what we have here is a failure to communicate."
"This... horse hurt. Do... hurt to me." She seemed to be searching for the right word.
"You mean it will do damage to you? Don't worry. You will hurt and your pussy will ache for a long time. But there will be no permanent damage. Your pussy will work fine."
Michelle could see from the look in Erika's eyes that the last pronouncements exceeded her grasp of English. "It will hurt. But it will be okay. Understand?"
"Hurt."
Yes, hurt," sighed Michelle. She could see that their conversations weren't going to be very informative. "Scream help. Good grief, I'm beginning to talk like a child."
Erika whined in pain but did not scream. Michelle knew that it was only a matter of time. Any girl would start screaming sooner or later when she had to ride the horse.
For a while she simply sat there, enduring and looking at Erika. The Swedish girl had a very nice body, with large firm breasts and very shapely legs. The sight of her astride the horse, suffering and looking very helpless was pleasing to Michelle and would have be downright enjoyable had she not been enduring the same torture herself.
"Escape?" asked Erika suddenly.
Michelle shook her head. "I don't think so. No escape."
"Escape."
The single word was filled with conviction. Michelle sighed. Apparently this blonde hadn't been a slavegirl very long. Escape was something that Michelle didn't consider possible anymore. Marla and Henry were simply too good with the chains and ropes and other restraints. She had never seen even the slimmest chance at escape in all the time she had been a slavegirl here.
The two suffering girls rode the horse for three hours but talked very little. Michelle tried to teach Erika some new English words but it was a very slow process and as time passed Erika became more and more upset at the constant pain in her most private parts. Near the end the blonde slave was screaming, short, mild outbursts at first but occasionally a scream of frustration and angers that bounce off the walls of the small room. Michelle understood the emotions being vented in those screams but accepted her own suffering in silence. But she understood. She had screamed the first time she rode the horse.
Later the evening, both girls were freed from the horse, handcuffed and leg-ironed and allowed to clean up before dinner. Erika cried when she was lifted from the sharp wood edge and walked awkwardly afterwards. Michelle understood how she felt, the fear that her pussy was damaged and would never be right, and the ache that continued long after dismounting the horse.
That night Erika was tightly bound, gagged and chained to the wall of Mistress Marla's bedroom to watch as a chained Michelle performed prolonged lesbian lovemaking on their owner. When the lovemaking was over, Michelle was allowed to sleep in her mistress' bed while the Amazon Erika stood a painful watch throughout the night.
The next day, while being bound up for her daily punishment, Michelle had a chance to talk to Henry. He was tying her hands crossed behind her back when she asked, "Henry, do you know where Sandy is?"
He paused for a second then finished up the tight knots. "Miss, I'm not suppose to talk about that. And you're not suppose to ask."
"But, Henry... Sandy was my friend. She said she was your friend, too." Henry didn't comment on that. He shift Michelle around into a sitting position in the middle of floor and crossed her legs. He began binding the ankles crossed together.
"Henry, did Sandy mean something special to you?"
Henry stopped what he was doing. "Yes, Miss," he said finally. "She was something special." "She loved you, too."
Michelle wasn't sure if love was the right word but it seemed a good thing to say then. Sandy was not the first girl to in love with a big phallus attached to a strong, silent type. Henry finished the binding of the ankles and began buckling a leather collar around her neck. "I liked Sandy."
"She really liked you. She said that she never knew a man like you." Which wasn't, far from what Sandy had actually said.
Henry finished the collar and then tied a short length of rope to the ring set in the front of it. He passed that rope down to her ankles and around the ropes holding them together. Then he rolled Michelle over on her back and pulled the rope back through the collar ring. He pulled until Michelle's chin was touching her ankles. Then he tied some knots up at her collar to secure her in that position. When he rolled her back into a sitting position, she was bent over with head touching the floor and back bowed over spread legs. She could only flutter her fingers but not roll over, straighten up or escape. It would be a very uncomfortable position very soon.
"Henry," she called as he headed towards the door. "What can we do about Sandy?"
"Do? Michelle, we can do nothing. Sandy is a slave. Slaves can be sold or traded."
"But there must be something we can do. Could you let me go and I'll try to find Sandy?"
"Slave Michelle," said quietly but seriously. "You do not talk of escape, nor do you ask for help in that direction. I am suppose to report anything like what you just said. The punishment is a whipping from the calves to the shoulders. Both sides."
Michelle shivered. Would his casual mention of her words mean a real and truly horrible whipping for her? "We can do nothing. Your friend is now the property of one Sheik Abdul Hassin and is in a country very far from here. And this is both in distance and time. They own slaves legally there."
Michelle felt very helpless, both at the unpleasant bondage she was in and the words she had just heard. For a long time the big black man stood by the door looking at the naked girl bent over on the floor of the small cell. Finally he sighed and repeated, "We can do nothing." He put his hand on the light switch and was about to leave when Michelle called out.
"Henry... Thank you." He left without reply.
9
Prisoner of San Jancith
Erika slowly became Mistress Marla's favorite. There was no denying that, Michelle could easily see that it was happening but could do nothing about it. A slavegirl can strive to please her mistress but has very little options other than to be properly submissive and obedient. Michelle tried her best, but Marla became more and more intrigued with the Amazonian blonde who possessed fire and spirit. And, wisely, Michelle did not try to emulate the blonde. She was submissive and not given to open rebellion, and that was all there was to it.
Whether Marla sensed the growing desperation in her raven-haired slavegirl or not was perhaps not important. Even if she sensed that Michelle was jealous of her new toy, she simply didn't care. AH that matters is the wishes of the mistress, the woman who owns the slave.
Several times Mistress Marla took delight in demonstrating punishments on Michelle, torturing the girl purely for the sake of showing Erika what could happen to her, but Erika usually seemed unaffected by what happened to another slavegirl. The worst was one time when Michelle had to spend over two hours hanging upside down by her ankles while Marla slowly and methodically lashed her body with a riding crop. When the mistress was finished, her slavegirl was covered with red marks from ankles to neck. She had taken the unusual action of leaving Michelle's hands free. All during the whipping Michelle tried to cover her breasts or pussy and constantly found her hands leaping to hold some place that bore a fresh sting from the crop. Being completely naked and upside down made her a vulnerable target for Marla's riding crop, even with the hands free. And escape was, of course, not possible even if Michelle had been left alone. She could touch nothing with her hands, and if she were to try to pull herself up to reach the ropes around her ankles, she would find no knots to undo, only tight ropes that disappeared into the hole in the ceiling where they were attached to a winch.
After only a little more than one week Michelle was no longer the favorite, no longer the slavegirl allowed into her mistress' bed to serve with tongue and lips. It became an obsession with Marla to force Erika to into lesbian service, a act which the blonde giantess obviously hated. Perhaps the struggle to mold that slavegirl continued in Marla's bedroom each night. Michelle did not know. She only knew that she was no longer taken to the private bedroom of her owner and that Erika no longer shared an adjoining cell in their little prison.
After two weeks of no sex, not even the servicing of her mistress, Michelle took a dramatic step that might well have gained her a terrible punishment. Henry had just bound her in her punishment position for the day when she spoke to him about something she desperately wanted. She was standing in the middle of the big dungeon on high heels, legs bound tightly together and arms pulled up behind her back so far that she had to lean forward with her arms straight up over her. Her elbows were, of course, tightly corded together, and it looked to be a long day of discomfort edging towards pain. Summoning up her courage, Michelle made her plea, "Henry, please fuck me."
Henry stopped to look at this naked and very attractive slavegirl. "You don't have to be vulgar, Miss Michelle," he said quietly.
"Henry, please call me Michelle. And don't all men think of the sex act as 'fucking'?"
"Perhaps most men, but a gentleman doesn't. If you mean that you would like me to make love to you, then why not ask that way? Or call it 'having intercourse'. Or something pleasant and nice. There are too many crude words for a beautiful act."
Michelle was surprised at Henry's mild voice and at the words he spoke. "Henry, would you please make love to me? I am so very horny. It would be wonderful."
"I suspect that you are lonely, too, Michelle." he said. "You have lost your best friend and your mistress."
"I guess you're right. Maybe you're the only friend I have around here."
Henry did not answer that comment. But he did answer her question by unzipping his pants. Michelle could not see what happened after that because he walked around behind her, but her heart was pounding. The only thing she wanted in the whole world right then was to have his manhood shoved deep inside her. She could feel his fingers spread the flesh of her bottom and thighs behind her and wondered why he didn't untie her legs so he could perform the act of intercourse in the normal manner. Suddenly she felt the head of his rather oversized penis pressing against the entrance of her pussy and she knew he wasn't going to ease her bondage one little bit.
With a firm but not harsh shove, his penis was inside her love tunnel, finding it moist and ready, indeed glad, to received him. His big hands took hold of her hips and guided her against the thrusts of his hips like she was a doll. Apparently he had performed this unusual intercourse position before because there was no fumbling, and it was surprisingly easy. Michelle would not have thought it possible for a girl to be ravished while her legs were tied together, especially while standing, but it was happening to her. Being bent forward by her upraised arms helped.
His thrusts were long and deep and made her feel wonderful inside. The warmth in her sex quickly blossomed into fire and she was thrusting back against him as hard as a woman so bound could. Henry might have been willing to prolong the act of lovemaking but Michelle rushed into her orgasm so fast that it must have taken him by surprise. He grabbed both breasts and squeezed and held himself deep inside her while she shuddered and moaned in pleasure. When she finally begin to return to the land of the living from Cloud Nine, he began slowly pumping again with his still- rigid rod. With a moan, Michelle realized that her return to normal was being interrupted. The heat in her loins flared again under his expert attention and she was once again building up to a climax.
When it came, the second climax was every bit as good as the first. Only after he was sure she had gotten full measure out of the act did he withdraw his still erect member. "Have to save some for Rebecca, Miss," he commented.
"You mean you're screwing Rebecca, too?" panted Michelle.
"There you go again, Michelle. No need to be crude. And, yes, I do sometimes make love to Rebecca. She has a harsh life and rarely gets any kind of satisfaction from Mistress Marla."
"So you brighten her day a little with a quickie!" Michelle said with a smile.
"The same as I just did for you."
"And you were... making love to Sandy, too."
"She asked for it."
"Only if a girl asks for it?" Michelle was not being sarcastic and Henry knew it.
"Yes, Miss Michelle. Only if a girl asks me. Or if Mistress Marla orders it."
"In one case it's part of your job," said Michelle, "and in the other case it's a kindness you impart upon us poor slavegirls."
"It could be put that way. I obey Mistress Marla's orders. If she tells me to use my tool on a slavegirl, I do it. But if it is not by my employer's orders, then I would consider it only if the girl asked for it. Otherwise it would be rape." He paused a moment then a faint smile tugged at the comers of his mouth. "Perhaps that is chasing rabbits with an ax, however."
"Chasing rabbits...?"
"Splitting hares."
"That's terrible," Michelle groaned. "The pun, I mean. The lovemaking was wonderful. I'm ever so grateful."
"I'm glad to have been of service." He turned to go. "You do know that I have to leave you bound like that all day?"
"Of course, Henry. Orders. I don't mind, really I don't." Michelle smiled to show her feelings. "And thank you."
Henry bowed his head slightly and left. Michelle was uncomfortable for the day - that was, after all, an uncomfortable position to be bound in. But she was content in a strange sort of way.
The next day she again had a chance to talk to Henry as he was fixing her in position for the day's punishment. This time it was to be a day standing on tip toes with the phallic shaft up inside her pussy. Her arms were bound behind her in the usual elbows-touching position she was becoming quite used to. There were nipple clamps that burned and bit in with sharp, tiny teeth, but that was all. She was impaled and had to stand on her toes with no way for her to get off that artificial penis. But it felt good inside, at least at first. Later in the day she would probably be very tired and sore in that area. The motor was not turned on and the shaft was not making with it's wonderful up and down and twisting motions. It was simply a means of holding her in one place and making her feel degraded.
"Henry, do you ever make love to Mistress Marla? And I hope I'm not going to get in trouble for asking that."
"When I first went work for Mistress Marla, I wondered if she was going to expect me to satisfy her lusts. I once had a chauffeurs' job with a woman who hired me for my body not my driving skills. But I've come to realize that she really prefers other women and not men. No, Michelle, I have never performed with Mistress Marla and doubt I ever will."
"Have you heard anything about Sandy?"
Henry did not reply and Michelle felt certain it was because he did not want to tell her something. Finally he sighed and said simply, "The sheik is a harsh man. He takes out his anger at the Westerners by torturing young American girls."
"What? What do you mean, Henry?"
"I fear that your friend Sandy is not having a pleasant time in Abdul's harem."
"Oh, Henry, isn't there something we can do about it? And isn't she your friend, too?"
"I fear there is nothing we can do. Being owned is not pleasant. And, yes, Sandy is my friend, too. She was different."
Michelle bit her lip in frustration. "What's happening to her?"
"I'd rather not say. It's better that you don't know."
With that he left the room. But first he touched the buton and Michelle felt the shaft inside her lower an inch or so. Michelle was saddened by the news of Sandy and very frustrated that she could not do a thing. And, at the same time, she was grateful for Henry's little kindness in allowing her to lower her feet a little. There would be much less strain this way.
The day was long, the position uncomfortable, and the bondage a torment. Her arms hurt as did her nipples where the clamps squeezed them. But as time marched on she found that she could almost lower her feet flat on the floor. Perhaps her pussy had stretched to accommodate the dildo within, but she could just touch her heels to the floor by noon, a kindness for which she was grateful. The other kindness for which she was grateful was that with this added slack she could raise up on her toes, then lower herself, an action which made the dildo slide in and out a bit. And that led to the biggest kindness of all: several orgasms during the afternoon. The helplessness, burning nipples and sliding dildo inside her were very stimulating. And a lonely slavegirl has to take whatever comfort she can, whenever she can.
Michelle was actually rather mellow when Henry came to free her for dinner.
Weeks drifted by and Michelle settled into a routine of daily torments, usually just short of being torture, followed by long lonely nights in a cell by herself. She saw little of Erika but guessed that Marla was stretching out that Amazonian slavegirl's training so as to enjoy it more. She also saw very little of Rebecca and wondered why, since her daily treatment and Rebecca's were coming to be more and more alike, they weren't tortured together. But, as Henry pointed out when asked, being alone in your punishment was a part of the punishment. Sharing it with another slave eased the pain.
Then, in the fifth month of Michelle's captivity, everything changed. She had lost track of how many days and weeks she had been a slavegirl. It was obvious Marla considered her a slave for life and what did an accurate count of the days and weeks mean then? But, on the one hundredth and sixtieth day of her slavery, had she been counting, Michelle was taken to the garage area where she was packed into a wooden box and shipped away.
No one told her what was happening. She simply assumed that she was being taken to her daily punishment. The handcuffs had been taken off and her arms bound tightly behind her with rope, but she had only assumed that was because it was a part of the day's punishment. A rubber wedge harness gag was tightly strapped on her head but that was also not too unusual. It was only when she saw the box laying open that she knew something was happening. And then it was too late. Her arms were useless behind her and she was silenced. Henry said nothing to her as he bound her legs together. But Michelle sensed that there were emotions just below the surface in this powerful man. But what they were she had no idea.
She was set into the padded interior of the box to discover that it fit perfectly. It must have been shaped to fit her body, she realized. Customized for her, as it were. There were straps attached to the insides of the box that went over her body, holding it tightly down and immobile. A blindfold was added just before a strap over her already covered mouth was secured down to hold her head in place. Michelle's heart was beating faster than normal as she tried to make noises that might get Henry to tell her what was going on. But the black man ignored her and continued his work as if it were an assembly line where he put together a car, not boxing up a live, naked girl.
All straps were checked and a couple tightened one more notch. Then the lid was placed over her. Inside, Michelle heard a muffled sound as the lid fitted in place, then tiny sounds and movements as Henry screwed in the two dozen wood screws that held the lid firmly in place. She felt a moment of panic at the tightness of the padding pressing in on her whole body. The darkness was complete, she could only the tiny flashes of light and vague shapes the originated within the human eye. She could hear very little through the padding and doubted that any noise she could make would be heard outside the box. Breathing was a bit strained but possible. There were small screen-covered air holes around her head where just enough air came through for her to stay alive.
Finally the tiny noises stopped and she could no longer feel the small changes of her box as Henry drove in the screws. The silence lengthened and she guessed that Henry had left the room. In the blackness and tightness of her box, Michelle felt both fear and excitement. She had to curse that perverse part of her that found this treatment exciting, but could not deny it's existence. She had come to realize that helplessness was a stimulus to her, it excited her and kindled a fire within her loins. And this was nearly the most perfect helplessness she had ever experienced or could imagine. Nothing could move, everything felt squeezed. And there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.
A while later she felt her box picked up and carried somewhere then set down. A while after that it was again picked up and set down. Then there were movements that were not like those when someone carried her and she assumed that she was in a truck or van being driven someplace.
Michelle tried to follow what was happening to her but lost track after what she thought might have been being loaded into an airplane. There was motions but it didn't sound like a jet airplane. Only when her ears popped did she feel certain that she was in an airplane gaining altitude. But traveling in what direction and to where she had no idea. She was a slavegirl reduced to cargo.
Michelle had been, in turns, cold, hot, thirsty, hungry, scared, lonely, and had to go to the bathroom. The trip seemed to go on forever. There were times when her mind seemed to wander off into some other world, a world in which there was nothing save the darkness and pressure against her from all sides. Perhaps she slept, perhaps net. Memories faded in and out, like dreams.
At some point she stopped trying to guess what was happening to her box. So it was a surprise when she heard the unmistakable sound of the lid being lifted off and felt the padding that had been pressing against her breasts disappear. After a few more moments she felt the straps holding her down being unbuckled and was finally lifted out of the box. Several hands held her in a standing position while the ropes were taken from her arms and legs. Which was good because she would not have been able to stand on her own. When the blindfold was lifted she had to close her eyes against what seemed like an intense light blasting her in the face. Very slowly she squinted until she was able to make out the shapes of people around her and very bright sunlight pouring in a windows. The shapes slowly formed into two men wearing robes of white. One was holding her up while the other finished removing the ropes from her limbs. She was vaguely aware of her arms being pulled behind her and secured with handcuffs but could not feel for they were totally numb from the prolonged and rather tight bondage. With the removal of the gag she understood why it had been so long before Erika had been able to speak. The muscles at the base of her jaw ached terribly and would not obey.
She was helped to a sitting position on a chair. Her arms were beginning to prick with the pins and needles of returning circulation. When a glass of water was held up to her lips, she realized that her mouth was dry. It was hard to swallow but she drained the glass with a thirst she hadn't realized she had. That was one clue that she had been in the box a long time, perhaps a day or more. For a few minutes she was left alone while the men gathered up the ropes and other "packing materials", tossed them in the box, and replaced the lid. Michelle had a chance to study the men and her surroundings. The men had Arabic features and dark complexions. Their robes reminded Michelle of something straight out of Lawrence of Arabia, so she was not surprised when she looked out the window to see sand dunes stretching off into the distance. Then hope flared as she realized that might mean she was now the property of Sheik Abdul Hassin and therefore reunited with Sandy. But that hope dimmed to nothing as she remembered what Henry had said about the sheik hating Americans and being very cruel to any American woman he could get his hands on.
After a while one of the men barked an order at her. She could not understand the language but the meaning was clear and she stood to be led out of that room. She and her captor descended stairs and Michelle hoped that she would soon see Sandy. But the cell she was led to was empty. Oddly, it was very much like the cells in Marla's basement dungeon. Perhaps they both bought their prison equipment from the same manufacturer.
Shortly after the door was locked behind her, it was opened again, this time to admit an older female carrying a tray of food. The tray was left on the bench beside her and no attempt made to unlock her hands from behind her back. Michelle noticed that there was no silverware, and knew she was expected to eat as best she could with no hands. The rice was flavored with something she had never tasted before and the other plate held what looked to her like the Greek dish of lamb wrapped in grape leaves. But she was very hungry and ate every morsel, licking the plates clean.
The long afternoon was very hot in her cell. A tiny window up near the ceiling gave her no view but it did admit hot, dry air off the desert sands above. Michelle reclined on her side on the hard wooden bench after moving the tray to the floor. She slept some of the afternoon, a restful, reviving sleep unlike the fitful, dream-filled sleep of her traveling box. A dinner tray was brought and taken away by the same servant woman. Again not a word was said to Michelle, nor did she try to engage the servant in conversation. Only later, as the light coming in her window had faded almost totally away, did someone come to take her from her cell.
It was a room with one wall that opened fully onto a garden filled with greenery and fountains, a cool oasis amid the stark whitewashed walls of the house. Michelle was led up to a man who stood at the edge of the garden feeding bits of fruit to a small monkey. She was made to kneel and had to wait until the man was finished with his pet. Which gave her a chance to observe the man she assumed was her new owner. He was middle aged, fat, bearded and wore a gold ring on nearly every finger. His dark eyes held amusement when he teased the monkey, holding bits of choice fruit above its head to make it reach high. But they turned to cold, hard orbs when his attention turned to his newest slavegirl.
"Welcome to my country," he said with a cultured English accent. "You know, of course, that you are my property now. You will instantly obey any orders given you by anyone in this place. Instantly and without question. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Master," Michelle said for the first time in her life.
Abdul said nothing for a few seconds. "Mistress Marla tells me that you are a natural slavegirl, that you gain satisfaction from being controlled by a master. Well, I hope," he said with an evil leer, "that you like pain. American woman are too arrogant. It is right that a man should punish such a woman." He casually reached out and took one nipple between finger and thumb. The pinch was hard and hurt. Michelle flinched but did not cry out.
Abdul tossed the last piece of apple to the monkey then said, "Come with me. I have something to show you."
The something was Sandy. In a corner of the garden was an area marked by four stout posts. Strung out between the post in a spread-eagle, face down, was Sandy, her head bowed and the long blonde hair hanging down almost to the ground. Each of her limbs was caught in rope and pulled very tightly to one of the posts. In addition, clamps were secured to her nipples and weights hung from small chains attached to those clamps, pulling her breasts from their normal lovely shape. She was naked and bore marks on her back, bottom and legs from whips, both fresh and old. She did not look up when they came up to her.
"I believe you know this slave," Abdul said. "Lift your head up, slave."
Sandy lifted her head and peered through blonde hair. "No...
the tightness of the padding pressing in on her whole body. The darkness was complete, she could only the tiny flashes of light and vague shapes the originated within the human eye. She could hear very little through the padding and doubted that any noise she could make would be heard outside the box. Breathing was a bit strained but possible. There were small screen-covered air holes around her head where just enough air came through for her to stay alive.
Finally the tiny noises stopped and she could no longer feel the small changes of her box as Henry drove in die screws. The silence lengthened and she guessed that Henry had left the room. In the blackness and tightness of her box, Michelle felt both fear and excitement. She had to curse that perverse part of her that found this treatment exciting, but could not deny it's existence. She had come to realize that helplessness was a stimulus to her, it excited her and kindled a fire within her loins. And this was nearly the most perfect helplessness she had ever experienced or could imagine. Nothing could move, everything felt squeezed. And there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.
A while later she felt her box picked up and carried somewhere then set down. A while after that it was again picked up and set down. Then there were movements that were not like those when someone carried her and she assumed that she was in a truck or van being driven someplace.
Michelle tried to follow what was happening to her but lost track after what she thought might have been being loaded into an airplane. There was motions but it didn't sound like a jet airplane. Only when her ears popped did she feel certain that she was in an airplane gaining altitude. But traveling in what direction and to where she had no idea. She was a slavegirl reduced to cargo.
Michelle had been, in turns, cold, hot, thirsty, hungry, scared, lonely, and had to go to the bathroom. The trip seemed to go on forever. There were times when her mind seemed to wander off into some other world, a world in which there was nothing save the darkness and pressure against her from all sides. Perhaps she slept, perhaps not. Memories faded in and out, like dreams.
At some point she stopped trying to guess what was happening to her box. So it was a surprise when she heard the unmistakable sound of the lid being lifted off and felt the padding that had been pressing against her breasts disappear. After a few more moments she felt the straps holding her down being unbuckled and was finally lifted out of the box. Several hands held her in a standing position while the ropes were taken from her arms and legs. Which was good because she would not have been able to stand on her own. When the blindfold was lifted she had to close her eyes against what seemed like an intense light blasting her in the face. Very slowly she squinted until she was able to make out the shapes of people around her and very bright sunlight pouring in a windows. The shapes slowly formed into two men wearing robes of white. One was holding her up while the other finished removing the ropes from her limbs. She was vaguely aware of her arms being pulled behind her and secured with handcuffs but could not feel for they were totally numb from the prolonged and rather tight bondage. With the removal of the gag she understood why it had been so long before Erika had been able to speak. The muscles at the base of her jaw ached terribly and would not obey.
She was helped to a sitting position on a chair. Her arms were beginning to prick with the pins and needles of returning circulation. When a glass of water was held up to her lips, she realized that her mouth was dry. It was hard to swallow but she drained the glass with a thirst she hadn't realized she had. That was one clue that she had been in the box a long time, perhaps a day or more. 4 For a few minutes she was left alone while the men gathered up the ropes and other "packing materials", tossed them in the box, and replaced the lid. Michelle had a chance to study the men and her surroundings. The men had Arabic features and dark complexions. Their robes reminded Michelle of something straight out of Lawrence of Arabia, so she was not surprised when she looked out the window to see sand dunes stretching off into the distance. Then hope flared as she realized that might mean she was now the property of Sheik Abdul Hassin and therefore reunited with Sandy. But that hope dimmed to nothing as she remembered what Henry had said about the sheik hating Americans and being very cruel to any American woman he could get his hands on.
After a while one of the men barked an order at her. She could not understand the language but the meaning was clear and she stood to be led out of that room. She and her captor descended stairs and Michelle hoped that she would soon see Sandy. But the cell she was led to was empty. Oddly, it was very much like the cells in Marla's basement dungeon. Perhaps they both bought their prison equipment from the same manufacturer.
Shortly after the door was locked behind her, it was opened again, this time to admit an older female carrying a tray of food. The tray was left on the bench beside her and no attempt made to unlock her hands from behind her back. Michelle noticed that there was no silverware, and knew she was expected to eat as best she could with no hands. The rice was flavored with something she had never tasted before and the other plate held what looked to her like the Greek dish of lamb wrapped in grape leaves. But she was very hungry and ate every morsel, licking the plates clean.
The long afternoon was very hot in her cell. A tiny window up near the ceiling gave her no view but it did admit hot, dry air off the desert sands above. Michelle reclined on her side on the hard wooden bench after moving the tray to the floor. She slept some of the afternoon, a restful, reviving sleep unlike the fitful, dream-filled sleep of her traveling box. A dinner tray was brought and taken away by the same servant woman. Again not a word was said to Michelle, nor did she try to engage the servant in conversation. Only later, as the light coming in her window had faded almost totally away, did someone come to take her from her cell.
It was a room with one wall that opened fully onto a garden filled with greenery and fountains, a cool oasis amid the stark whitewashed walls of the house. Michelle was led up to a man who stood at the edge of the garden feeding bits of fruit to a small monkey. She was made to kneel and had to wait until the man was finished with his pet. Which gave her a chance to observe the man she assumed was her new owner. He was middle aged, fat, bearded and wore a gold ring on nearly every finger. His dark eyes held amusement when he teased the monkey, holding bits of choice fruit above its head to make it reach high. But they turned to cold, hard orbs when his attention turned to his newest slavegirl.
"Welcome to my country," he said with a cultured English accent. "You know, of course, that you are my property now. You will instantly obey any orders given you by anyone in this place. Instantly and without question. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Master," Michelle said for the first time in her life.
Abdul said nothing for a few seconds. "Mistress Marla tells me that you are a natural slavegirl, that you gain satisfaction from being controlled by a master. Well, I hope," he said with an evil leer, "that you like pain. American woman are too arrogant. It is right that a man should punish such a woman." He casually reached out and took one nipple between finger and thumb. The pinch was hard and hurt. Michelle flinched but did not cry out.
Abdul tossed the last piece of apple to the monkey then said, "Come with me. I have something to show you."
The something was Sandy. In a comer of the garden was an area marked by four stout posts. Strung out between the post in a spread-eagle, face down, was Sandy, her head bowed and the long blonde hair hanging down almost to the ground. Each of her limbs was caught in rope and pulled very tightly to one of the posts. In addition, clamps were secured to her nipples and weights hung from small chains attached to those clamps, pulling her breasts from their normal lovely shape. She was naked and bore marks on her back, bottom and legs from whips, both fresh and old. She did not look up when they came up to her.
"I believe you know this slave," Abdul said. "Lift your head up, slave."
Sandy lifted her head and peered through blonde hair. "No...
Not you, Michelle," was all she said. She looked as if she had been hanging there for quite some time and suffering every second of it.
Michelle sucked in her breath and wanted to protest. Only fear held her tongue. Dangerous waters, she told herself, tread with caution.
Abdul seemed amused at the internal struggle displayed on Michelle's face. "You have been a slave long enough to know that slaves are punished. If they do something wrong. If they fail to do sometime ordered of them or expected. Or for no reason at all."
"Yes, Master."
"You will be punished."
"Yes, Master."
"You will learn to live in pain." He seemed happy to be able to say that.
"Yes, Master." Michelle strained to keep all shades of sarcasm and anger out of her voice.
"And it will start tonight. Mashad, take her to my bedroom."
As she was being led away, Michelle glanced back to see that Sandy's head was again drooping as she hung limp in her bounds. It tugged at her heart to see her friend so mistreated but she dared not complain. Even a plea for mercy might only make matters worse.
The sheik's bedroom was furnished in a hodge-podge of English and French provincial antiques. The bed was an old four-poster which clashed with the gold on white of a night stand beside it. There was a carpet at the end of the bed and it was on that Michelle was made to stand. Her wrists were unlocked from the handcuffs only to be bound with rope before her. Several feet of the rope was left trailing down to the carpet after the guard finished wrapping cinch windings around the main rope around the wrists. He then pulled over a chair and stood on it with Michelle's rope in one hand. Looking up she saw the metal hook in the ceiling as he reached for it. Her rope was passed over it and back down to her wrists. Twice that was done, then the man pulled on the rope, slowly lifting Michelle's hands over her head. But he did not stop when she was on tip-toes. When he tied the final knot at the hook, Michelle's toes were a good foot off the floor. He replaced the chair and left.
Michelle felt around with her fingers but could not reach the knots. And with all her weight pulling on the rope joining her wrists, there was no hope of loosening anything. She could only hang and await her fate at the hands of a man who hated her for the country she was born in.
The wait was not long. Another girl was brought in, also an American from her looks, a teenager, young and innocent looking. She was dressed in a baggy pair of silk pants and a length of chain joining her wrists in front of her. The chain ended in true shackles to embrace her wrists, slender silver bands but quite sturdy enough to hold her prisoner. The girl's back and small but pert breasts were covered with bruises and fading whip marks. The blonde teenager knelt on the floor with arms at her sides, the chain joining her hands laying across her thighs. After a minute she looked around and, seeing no one, hurried to her feet. She stood before Michelle with pleading eyes. "Listen, we've got to get out of this place! Get to the American Embassy, tell someone. This man is crazy. He'll wind up killing all of us." Her frantic pleas were cut short when she realized that someone stood behind her. It was Abdul. With a cry of alarm the teenage girl fell to a kneeling position on the floor and bowed her head. "Little slavegirl, what am I to do with you?" Abdul asked, shaking his head. "Constantly you are trying to escape. Constantly you are begging to be set free. Constantly you are complaining. That American Embassy you think so highly of is across two hundred of desert. And this new slavegirl? What did you think she could do for you? You are a fool."
Sally did not answer. Abdul removed his robe and lay back on his bed. Sally submissively crawled up on the bed and knelt between his legs. Michelle could see his tool was already at full attention, what there was of it. She couldn't help but compare it with Henry's fine weapon. And she could smell the man from several feet away. She doubted if he was familiar with the beneficial effects of bathing.
Another man entered the room. Michelle thought he was the same guard who had taken her to Abdul but could not be sure. All she could be sure of was the wicked looking whip in his hand. It was no riding crop but a braided leather thong. She instantly feared it and felt her mouth go dry at the thought of what it might do to her.
The guard took position behind her and began her whipping without preamble. This must have been a scene often repeated for all the actors played their rolls without orders or conversation. The guard began a cruel lashing of the skin of Michelle's bottom. Sally took Abdul's tool in her mouth and began to work it skillfully Abdul smiled and watched Michelle's face all the time.
The whipping began at her bottom but extended up her back and down to her thighs. The whip was terrible, and felt like it was cutting her flesh to ribbons, though in reality no blood was being shed. But Michelle's flesh was turning red and purples as the slender whip kissed her again and again. And she danced after the first dozen strokes, her legs kicking out and jerking around. Abdul must have loved the pain contorted features of Michelle's face for he looked at nothing else, even when she kicked out at her attacker. The only sound in the room was the snick of the whip and the moans of the hanging nudity. But soon enough there was added the sounds of pain beyond holding in when Michelle began screaming with each cruel stroke.
The guard worked her back side over very well, then moved to one side to mark up her flank. But the loudest screams of all came when he lashed squarely across one breast. At the same time Abdul gave out with a strangled cry and had his climax in Sally's mouth. Quickly the guard lashed both breasts with a series of hard blows that immediately began turning her creamy smooth skin into multicolored welts. Michelle screamed continuously, tapering off to sobs only when the whip ceased it's torture. The whipping of her breasts had been for Abdul's sake that he might enjoy his climax to the maximum. And he did.
Eventually Abdul was finished. He waited while Sally licked his tool clean then literally kicked her out of bed. "Mashad, I have had enough of this slavegirl's demanding and complaining. Take her to the dungeon and have her tongue cut out. Then give her to the soldiers at El Armin. They will know what to do with her. And she won't bother them with constant pleas to be taken to the American Embassy."
"OH!" cried Sally. "No...! Wait! I'm sorry! I won't ever do it again!" Her cries could be heard as she was dragged off by Mashad.
Michelle couldn't believe what she had seen. Abdul, on the other hand, seem unconcerned about the terrible disfigurement he had just ordered.
Abdul pulled a light sheet over himself, turned off the light, and turned over to go to sleep. Michelle hung in the dark and tried to keep in her sobbing. She was crying not only from the pain of the whipping but because she was sure she had been condemned to hell.
Having spent the night bound in the bedroom of her mistress many times, Michelle knew this game and its rules. She would have to be as quiet as possible. If she awoke her mistress... make that master, she would be punished. As if the whipping were not enough. So she hung there and was miserable.
Morning comes early on the desert. Michelle was awaken by a body pressing against hers. It was light in the bedroom and Abdul was gone. It was Mashad who was untying her hands as he stood on the chair. When Michelle lowered her hands she found that they were an ugly, deep purple color and she had no feeling in them. When the ropes came off, it was a long time before feeling returned, and then it was terrible pain from nerves awakening and screaming in agony. Michelle lay on the carpet and cried as her hands returned to life.
Breakfast was a simple meal served in her cell. Surprisingly her fingers worked well enough for her to eat breakfast. She had feared permanent damage. After breakfast she was taken again to the presence of Abdul. This time he was seated behind a massive oak desk in what was obviously an office. He still wore the desert robe of his fathers but all else was completely modern right down to the fax machine in the comer and the 586 PC sitting on his desk.
Michelle had to stand before him for a long time as he worked on a pile of papers. But eventually he acknowledged her presence by getting up and going to the window. "The desert is a hard place to live," he said. Michelle was uncertain if he was talking to her or himself so she said nothing. "It makes you strong or it kills you."
He turned to her. "I said you will feel pain here. By the delightful whip marks, I see that you have. But," he held up a finger, "there will be more."
Michelle was taken outside where the morning sun had already heated the sand so it burnt the bottoms of her feet. The air was very dry so the heat didn't feel too bad. Not yet. It was only mid-morning.
Sandy was brought along. Like Michelle, she was naked and covered with whip marks. Her hands were bound before her with rope. A guard unlocked Michelle's hands from the handcuffs and bound them before her with rope. The deep rope marks from her night of hanging around Abdul's bedroom were still there when the new rope was wound over them. Again there was a length of rope trailing from her wrists when the knots were tied. A length of perhaps ten feet.
The small party was standing besides the house. Before them was rough flat ground littered with small rocks. A little beyond that were sand dunes, their smooth surfaces rippled with wind marks.
"My ancestors," began Abdul with his cultured English accent, "used to do this with camels. But I am more modem. We will use a jeep."
Right on cue a jeep came around the comer of the house. It looked like something from a desert war movie except that it was painted a bright pink. Even the spare tire in back was pink. "There is very little pink out here. I like the color," explained Abdul.
The driver of the jeep came around and took Michelle's hanging rope. He tied it to a bar welded across the back of the jeep. Then he tied Sandy's rope to it also.
"You will be driven out into the desert. Only a mile or so." Abdul was casual as he described their next torture. "You may walk on the trip out. Retief will drive slowly. But on the trip back..." He laughed, and his laugh sent shiver down Michelle's spine. Abdul jumped into the jeep as did the driver.
The drive was slow enough at first so the girls had no problem keeping up. They headed straight out across the low sand dunes. The sand burnt their bare feet.
"Oh, Michelle, I'm so sorry that you had to come here," bemoaned Sandy in a low voice. Neither girl was gagged but they kept their voices low for fear that talking might be a punishable offense.
"Is this man really as terrible as he seems," said Michelle. "I mean, like did he really have that Sally's tongue cut out like he said last night?"
"Sally was taken away this morning. I heard her scream last night just before they cut out her tongue. Oh, Michelle, don't think for one minute this man is not for real. He loves to torture us."
"Henry said so but I didn't believe him."
"Henry! You talked to Henry." Sandy's spirit seemed to pick up a little at the mention of Mistress Marla's servant.
"Yesterday. Or the day before. Yes, I guess it was the day before yesterday." For a few seconds Michelle said nothing, debating her next words for fear that they would hurt Sandy rather than make her feel better. "He really likes you. He said you were 'special'."
Sandy emitted a tiny whine of mental anguish. Michelle decided not to tell her that Henry and she had sex. Sandy was suffering enough.
"When I first got here there was another slavegirl, an American named Markie. He has about a dozen slavegirls but four are Americans. Most of the others he simply uses for sex and sometimes punishes. But us he really has it in for."
"But why?"
"First off, you have to understand that Abdul isn't really a sheik. A sheik is a leader of his people, like a chief of the Indians. Abdul is simply a man who became rich selling oil to Americans. A number of years ago he moved to America. He liked the rain and snow of California. I guess even LA is nice compared to this place. Well, he met an American girl and they got married. But when he decided to start building his harem by adding a teenage bimbo he met at a bar, his wife was upset. She divorced him and the court awarded her plenty. It was a messy divorce. Perhaps you remember it from the papers. After that he moved back here, and hates all American women. He's been getting back at his first wife ever since."
Michelle didn't know what to say. She and Sandy would be tortured daily because this guy is pissed off at this first wife. It would have been comical had it not been so painful.
About then the jeep halted. Abdul stood up to address his slavegirls. "I read somewhere that a human can run at about twenty-five miles per hour. This jeep can run faster than that. I hope you can run very fast. But even if you fall the jeep will not stop."
Michelle felt the hot sand on the soles of her feet and groaned. But she had little time to contemplate the possibilities for the jeep started up again, this time fast enough to keep them at a jog. A couple minutes of that and the speed increased to a run. Abdul keep his attention on them, grinning at them as they struggled to keep up.
But while human muscles tire, a jeep does not. Soon both Michelle and Sandy were gasping for breath and stumbling along, sometimes remaining on their feet only with help from the same rope that threatened to drag them. Sandy was the first to fall. The jeep did not slow, just as Abdul had promised. Sandy was being dragged over the hot sand, crying out in pain. Michelle longed to help her friend but there was nothing she could do.
Michelle's muscles burned and her legs began to feel like lead. A sharp pain stabbed her in the side. She was almost grateful when a stumble jerked her to the left and made her fall. At least the running was over. Quickly she discovered it was hard to keep from getting sand in her eyes and mouth. Then she found that the hot sand was most unpleasant against her skin as the jeep dragged them both on its bumpy journey.
Next to her she could hear Sandy crying out over and over, "Please... Please..." She felt like screaming herself.
It seemed like they were dragged for an hour but suddenly it was over. The jeep stopped at the edge of the sand dunes not far from the house. Both girls lay there, panting and moaning. It felt as if their skin had been rubbed away by the gritty sand, and their flesh burned. Neither had the strength to stand.
Michelle felt herself being picked up and carried. She had closed her eyes in an effort to keep the sand out of them and continued that now. Suddenly she was being dropped and a split second later there was the feel of cool water all around her. Sputtering and coughing, she managed to gain her feet to find herself standing in the shallow end of a swimming pool. She gratefully used the water to clean sand out of her mouth and eyes.
A minute later Sandy was carried up and dropped into the pool. Michelle helped her get her feet under her. The water felt good against all those places where her skin felt raw. They were allowed a few minutes to get the sand off then ordered out. Michelle found herself standing beside a pool straight out of a California mansion. Around the pool lounged half a dozen women of different nationalities, all naked and all wearing a silver chain joining their wrists in front of them. But the chains were more symbolic than actual restraints because they were long enough to not impede anything the girls wished to do. They were laughing at Sandy and Michelle.
"The harem," said Sandy. "Oh, but my breasts hurt. Notice no American girls in the bunch. We don't get to lounge around the pool. We get tortured."
Before Michelle could reply, the ropes still tied to their wrists were picked up by a guard and they were pulled away, their eventual destination a dungeon-like room beneath the house. There the ropes were taken off and handcuffs used to lock their arms behind them.
Lunch was a plate of apple slices and a jug of water, but Michelle was glad for it and glad that she was again with Sandy. They were left alone in a cell, so they could talk all they wanted it.
"I heard that Abdul is not really one of those filthy rich sheiks. He's only worth about two hundred million. Peanuts by their standards. He has this house and about a dozen house staff and another dozen slavegirls," Sandy explained between bites of apple. "Of course the number of slavegirls varies. He's hard on the Americans, as you can see."
They talked about other things but eventually both fell asleep on the benches. Michelle had not slept much as she hung in Abdul's bedroom, and Sandy had, it turned out, spent the entire night suspended in the horizontal spread-eagle in the garden. That in addition to having spent most of the whole day-there.
That night Sandy had to take the place of the missing Sally and perform the odious task of oral sex upon Abdul while Michelle hung upside down from that hook in his ceiling. Fortunately she didn't have to spend the entire night hanging upside down, only an hour or so while Abdul enjoyed the oral attentions of the blonde American stave. Of course it wasn't as easy as it might have been, there was attached to her flesh about a hundred clothespins, so many of them covering her breasts that they looked like pincushions, the rest jiggling from the flesh of her bottom and that soft flesh around her pussy. It was not a pleasant time for her.
10
Death Sentence
Each day in the desert brought it's own tortures. Never were Sandy's or Michelle's bodies free of bruises and whip marks. Never did they have more than a few minutes rest. In addition to often serving Abdul in his bedroom, one being tortured while the other performed oral sex, both the girls were forced to "service" the other harem slavegirls. And occasionally they were given to one or more of the male house servants to whip or use as he wished.
It was not a pleasant time for either of them. Then came the day that Michelle made a big mistake. It was in the third week of their slavery under Sheik Abdul Hassin. Michelle had just been whipped across the breasts and was crying as she hung by her wrists from the hook in his bedroom ceiling. Sandy lay on the floor by his bed, head bowed but unshackled other than by handcuffs, in front because the sheik liked to have her hold his balls while she sucked on his penis. Sandy was silent but Michelle could tell that she was feeling miserable for the shame of what she was forced to do. And while her best friend was hanging and being tortured.
Abdul was out of the room, in the adjoining bathroom, doing something. Michelle, as she hung with toes a dozen inches from the carpet, was feeling pretty miserable. Her breasts hurt but that was not unusual, most parts of her hurt. But she was beginning to realize that his might go on for a very long time, and the prospect of endless days and nights of torture was too much to take.
Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, there was a creaking noise and Michelle felt a little jerk. Looking up she could see the plaster around the hook cracking. Then, with a louder crack the hook came out of the ceiling and she fell to the carpet, landing on her feet. For a few seconds she stood there stunned, her slave-trained brain wondering if she would be punished for breaking the torture equipment. Her hands were still tied and the heavy metal hook dangled from the rope, hitting her knees.
Then several things happened almost instantly. Abdul walked back into the room. The wild idea struck Michelle that perhaps this was a chance at freedom. Sandy looked up with sad eyes to behold her friend and Abdul both standing there with surprise on their faces. Michelle looked up into Abdul's eyes only a few feet away and made up her mind. Mostly of instinct she swung her body to the right then brought her hands up and swung back to the left as hard as she could. The metal hook swung out at the end of its tether in an arc to land squarely along the side of Abdul's head. He went down without a sound.
Michelle stood there panting, eyes wild with excitement and heart thudding in her chest. She looked up from the prostrate form of their owner into the eyes of Sandy and saw, for the first time in a very long time, a glimmer of hope.
"Let's go," was all she said. Sandy nodded. Both girls fled the room, crept carefully down the hallway. They made it to the kitchen which, fortunately, was deserted at that time of night. Helped only by moonlight coming through a window, Sandy worked loose the knots of Michelle's rope, finally freeing her hands. But there was nothing they could do for the steel handcuffs on Sandy.
"The only chance is to get a jeep and make it across the desert before they know we're gone," whispered Michelle.
"Is he dead?" asked Sandy.
"I certainly hope so. Look, let's hope the keys are in the ignitions."
The keys were not in the ignitions. They were all neatly hanging from small hooks on a board over a desk in one corner of the garage. It was not hard to figure out which one went to which jeep, they were all numbered. A small piece of tape over the ignition hole on each jeep held the same number as the key that fitted it. There was also two land rovers and a stretch limo.
Michelle considered the land rovers. She wasn't sure of the condition of the roads and wondered if a jeep would be better. But then she realized that if the limo and land rovers got in here, they could certainly get out. She took the time to check the gas tanks. All were full except the pink jeep. Which was no problem as they would not have chosen that one anyway. Too many bad memories.
Since they were naked and she didn't know if they would be driving after the sun came up, Michelle chose one of the land rovers. While she was doing all that, Sandy was letting the air out of the tire on the limo. Then she did the same service for all the jeeps and the other land rover. It wouldn't stop pursuit but it would slow them down.
The main door was on an automatic opener, turned on by a button. It would make noise, Michelle was sure, perhaps enough to rouse the household. Then pursuit would surely follow. And those people knew the roads, she did not. For a few seconds she sat there, thinking.
"Come on, let's get going," urged Sandy. � "Wait. Got to do something." Michelle got out of the land rover and looked around. The moonlight was bright but not enough to enable her to find what she was looking for. But it did reveal a flashlight, and that helped her find a map in the glove compartment. Surprisingly it was in English but didn't help much. She could see several cities plainly marked but she didn't know where she was on the map. But at least she had a map. If she could get away and find some kind of road marker perhaps she could tell where she was.
Her second goal was easier. There was plenty of gas around, mostly stored in large cans. She made a fuse out of a rag and stuffed it in the open top of one gas can. Then she found a book of matches. She was about to light the fuse when she remembered something else. The water can attached to the back of the land rover was full, and that alleviated one worry. Back at the gag cans, she lit the oily rag and ran for the door.
The opener did make noise as it cranked up the heavy metal door. Michelle sat in the driver's seat with the engine running, anxious for the door to clear enough so she could get away. She could see the flickering light from the burning rag behind her and knew that if the gas went up before she got out of there, they wouldn't have to worry about being slaves anymore.
The roof of the land rover lost some paint as it scraped the bottom of the door but they made it out with a whole second to spare before the garage went up in a huge fireball. The shock shook the land rover but it continued on, throwing rocks and sand up behind it.
Michelle switched on the headlights and followed what looked like the only road leading away. The whole desert around them glowed in the orange light from the merrily burning structure. "That," she said to Sandy, "will slow them down more than letting air out of their tires."
"Yeah..." Sandy's voice was filled with admiration.
After being lost several times, the two escaped slaves finally got on a road that the map said would lead them to a city large enough to have probably have an American Embassy. Or some American company that might help fellow countrymen or women stranded in a strange land.
It would have been nice to report that they made it safely to the embassy and were given sanctuary, along with some clothes. But truth is they were stopped miles from the city by the military police who immediately took them back to Abdul Hassin's. There were, after all, escaped slaves in a land where slavery is legal.
Sheik Abdul Kassin was pissed off. He stormed around the naked forms of Sandy and Michelle as they stood quivering in the middle of his office. They were still naked since the military policemen seemed to prefer them that way. And they were both firmly shackled with handcuffs behind their backs, leg irons with very short chains between the ankles, and metal collars padlocked on the necks.
"You have destroyed my garage," he fumed. Michelle did notice the burnt smell that filled even the house. "You destroyed jeeps and land rovers. You destroyed my limo!" He glared at Michelle. "And you nearly killed me," he spat as he pointed an accusing finger at the large bandage on the side of his head.
For quite a while he ranted and raved about stupid, dangerous females, and how all the trouble he's had in life came from females, and how they should all be lined up, whipped, and then shot. But finally he calmed down enough to pronounce sentence upon them.
"You American's have an expression that fits this. Do you know what 'Dead Meat' means? Well, that is what you are: dead meat. In this country the penalty for attacking an owner is death."
Sandy swallowed hard and Michelle sucked in her breath. But it was not unexpected. This was a harsh country and a harsh man.
"The only problem is how to do it. Shooting is too good for you - too fast. Hanging would be nice. But too fast again. I want something very slow - painfully slow. Know what I mean?"
"Could we die of old age? That's slow," quipped Sandy.
Abdul's eyebrow went up in surprise. "You face death and you joke? American women are crazy. And their men even crazier for tolerating them. Allah give me strength!"
The girls were dragged down to the dungeon so Abdul could sleep on it. In the morning he would tell them of his choice for their deaths. But, in the meantime, they were not to spend a comfortable night. Each girl's arms were tightly bound behind their backs with thin cord and then lashed to their bodies with barred wire. Then they were hung upside down by the ankles for the night.
The next morning both of them had terrible headaches but otherwise seemed to have endured their ordeal without serious injury. The barred wire was peeled off them, leaving tiny puncture marks here and there, but their arms were left bound behind them. Then they were taken before their owner.
"I have decided," Abdul said grandly, "that first I will have every bone in your bodies broken."
They were taken out to a place behind the house were several posts were stuck in the ground. The posts had metal rings screwed into the wood and both girls were rebound, this time with each spread-eagle between two posts. The ropes had been pulled as tight as possible before being knotted and both girls felt like they were being pulled apart. It was also a very obscene exposure of their private parts but being exposed before men was the least of their worries right then. From where they were bound, the girls could see the still smoldering garage trickling black smoke into the desert air.
"My men have metal bars. They will begin with your legs and break every bone in them. They will work slowly. They will break each bone in as many places as they can. They will smash your kneecaps. They will work their way up your bodies until every bone in every finger is broken."
Abdul smiled at them, obviously taking delight in their suffering and the fear in their eyes.
"The only bones that will not be touched are your backbones and your skulls. That might kill you or render you unconscious. I wish you to feel the pain and continue feeling it for a long time. Just like this terrible headache you gave me."
Abdul paused to savor the moment. "And then... And then you will be left between those posts until you die. Perhaps that will take a day, perhaps several days. Maybe you can last a week. But I doubt that. It is very hot in the desert sun. And the nights are cold. I doubt you will last three days. But you will suffer. As Allah is my witness, you will suffer."
He motioned to his two henchmen. "Begin with the bones in their toes."
The first man took up a position beside Michelle's tautly bound leg. The metal bars looked very heavy. He lifted the bar over one shoulder, ready to bring it down in an arc which would end at her foot. There was nothing she could do about it, no words, no actions, nothing to change fate. She would, as Abdul stated, suffer. And suffer greatly.
For a brief second the scene was frozen, one bar posed to smash a feminine foot. Then a loud boom and the metal bar was flying out of the man's hands.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a deep voice from behind Abdul. Standing there, with a smoking 357 Magnum in his hands, was Henry. "Nobody moves."
In the anticipation of delightful female pain, no one had noticed Henry and two companions walk up to the little group. Both of the men with him were black, all wore combat fatigues, and all were armed, the other two with wicked looking assault rifles.
Some people are stupid. One of Abdul's guards reached for his pistol. Before he could get the pistol out of its holster, his body was almost cut in two by a short burst from one of the assault rifles.
The rest of them froze. "Oh, Henry!" cried Sandy in delight.
"I think my heart stopped," said Michelle. The girls were cut down by Henry while the others disarmed the men who had planned to torture the girls. "What has he done to you?" asked Henry when he got close enough to see all the whip marks and bruises covering their bodies.
Sandy was the first cut down and she collapsed gratefully into his arms. Michelle managed to stand on her own but on shaky legs. Too much was happening too fast.
"Come around to the front," Henry. "We'll take their land rover. Bill, Gary, secure the prisoners."
In front there were three dirt bikes, light-weight motorcycles made for off-road travel, laying on the ground. There was also the land rover the girls had stolen and had been returned along with them. Henry bundled them into the land rover. Then he went to the dirt bikes and stacked all three of them on top of each other. From his backpack he took a small square package which he placed on the gas tank of the top bike. He turned a small dial on the package.
Just then the other two came around the corner, moving with the cat-like grace of a professional soldier in dangerous country. They stood guard by the land rover, rifles at ready, while Henry disappeared back around the house. A few minutes later he returned. All three of them got into the land rover and it quickly departed the scene.
Henry reached into his backpack and produced a small package for each of the girls. Inside was a pair of panties, a pair of shorts and a shirt, rather manly in style but welcome nevertheless. The girls gratefully dressed.
"This is the first time in months that I've worn clothes," said Sandy. "Feels funny. But after what nearly happened to us, it feels good to be able to wear clothes."
"Thank you, Henry," said Michelle sincerely. "But how did you find us?"
"I always knew where you were. I've been here before, when Abdul was showing his slaves off to Marla. That wasn't the hard part."
"We have a long trip ahead of us, right?" asked Michelle. "We're all ears."
"Well, it was really simple. I wanted to get Sandy out of here before that madman killed her. But I didn't personally have enough money to buy her, even if Abdul would sell her. So I stole the money from Marla."
"You stole money!" exclaimed Michelle. "And I notice you're not calling her 'Mistress Marla' anymore."
"I am no longer working for her. And, yes, I stole all the money I needed. She has always kept a large amount of money in the house in cash. She comes from a country where the banks aren't too reliable and she trusts gold over a bank account. When I counted it later, I found the bagful I got away with contained over half a million dollars in gold and cash."
"Wow!" said Sandy as she rested against Henry's broad shoulders.
"So you stole the money. Then what?" asked Michelle.
"I looked up some old friends; that's Gary and that one is Bill. We flew to a nearby country where we knew we could buy some weapons. And some dirt bikes. Then we stole a helicopter and flew to within a few miles of Abdul's. We didn't want to land in his backyard, that would give him too much notice of our coming."
"You stole a helicopter!?"
"Not too hard when you know how to fly one," said Henry reasonably.
"I take it you do?" asked Michelle. This was getting more fantastic by the minute.
"Captain Henry Miller, USMC, at your service," he said with more than a little hint of pride in his voice. "But Bill flew the choppers, I just rode along."
"And did someone's dirty work?"
"Yes, Ma'am. We've seen desert warfare in this part of the world before. Well, we got into the country by scrapping sand with the landing gear for a couple hundred miles, and managed to land without being seen. The dirt bikes were modified with bigger mufflers than normal so we wouldn't make so much noise coming up. The rest you know."
Just then there was a small explosion behind them. "That will be the dirt bikes. Like to eliminate evidence of our presence."
"And now we fly back to... To where?" asked Michelle. Sandy seemed content to just press herself against Henry and look up into his eyes.
"Eventually the US. By way of two other countries. But that will be no problem. Bribes are a way of life in this part of the world. It got us in, it will get you two out."
"Won't we have trouble getting back into the US? We have no passports."
"If I have to, I'll just ship you in boxes," Henry said with a smile.
They came up to the helicopter. It was easily large enough to hold all of them and a few extra soldiers, if they had been needed. Once inside, Henry put another of those square packages against the gas tank of the land rover. Perhaps it needed elimination as evidence. Or perhaps he just liked to blow up things.
The helicopter was noisy but Michelle could make herself heard, at least to Henry. "Just two other questions. One, what will happen to Abdul? Won't he come looking for you? You did kill one of his men. Not to mention spoiling his fun."
"Abdul will not bother you," he said with confidence. "How can you be sure?"
"Remember what he was going to do to you?" asked Henry.
Then he continued without waiting for the answer. "He and his men were handcuffed to those posts. Sheik Abdul Hassin was feeling a little broken up when I left him." Michelle could imagine. "And he has the chance to watch the timer run down on one of my little packages. I figure he's getting pretty nervous about now." He grinned. "Not exactly what he was going to do to you, but poetic justice nevertheless."
Michelle did not feel any sorrow at the idea. "Then the second questions is what happens when we get back? You got any plans?"
Henry looked into Sandy's blue eyes and smoothed back a lock of her gold hair. "Sandy and I have some talking to do. Maybe we will stay together for a while. I still got enough money to buy a house somewhere. Somewhere far from Marla. Just in case she's pissed off at my stealing some money and leaving her hogtied in her dungeon."
Michelle thought for a few seconds. "Could I stay with you for a little while?" she asked. "I won't try to come between you and Sandy. I love both of you too much. But from what I've seen, you're man enough to satisfy more than two women. And I have a feeling that Sandy and I will be spending a lot of time tied up."
"You can count on it," Henry assured with a playful smile.
Michelle settled back in the seat. The vibration of the powerful machine around her was a comforting feeling. She loved both Sandy and Henry and would do nothing to come between them. They had something special between them and there was no way she was going to ruin that. But she also wanted some time to think about what was important to her. And to be tied up by someone who loves you as an expression of that love. She had the feeling that Sandy and she would be tying each other up and giving each other to Henry for a while. It would be fun game. And it sounded like fun for she and Sandy to be tightly bound by Henry's expert hands and both of them screwed for hours on end by that hunk of a man.
Then she got to thinking that perhaps they could kidnap Rebecca from Marla and have a third girl around Henry's house for all of them to play with. Or maybe she'd get Henry to kidnap Rebecca just for her. There were a lot of possibilities.
The helicopter raced low over the desert to both freedom and a new, wonderful kind of slavery for two girls who loved each other very much.