It happened and was over in a minute. Almost before Dawn and Heather Ryker realized what was happening, the large black van had forced their sports car from the road and two black-clad men had jumped out to drag the beautiful young sisters from their seats. Startled screams and protests echoed through the night air of the deserted country road but were ignored by the hooded assailants and found no other ears to fall upon. In the grasp of strong arms the two girls were dragged, kicking and screaming, to the open back doors of the van and thrown inside. Fortunately the floor was carpeted but the force of impact still drove the breath out of the girls. Before they could react, rough hands grabbed their arms and pulled them behind their backs. Thin cord was quickly but surely wrapped around slender wrists, cinched and knotted down, marking the first step of the girl's imprisonment.
Quickly there followed more thin cord around struggling ankles, biting deeply into tender flesh and locking feet together. To the sound of ineffectual cries for help, the ankle bondage was linked with the wrist bondage and that linkage pulled tight until each girl was bend backwards. Suddenly struggles were reduced to shaking of heads and verbal abuse. As a well-drilled team the two men had rendered both girls helpless in less than a minute.
One man exited, slamming the doors behind him. A few seconds later the van rocked as he got in the driver's side. The engine roared to growling life and both girls knew they were being driven away from the place of the kidnapping.
And kidnapping it must be for both girl's instinctively knew that this could not be a prank or cruel practical joke by some misguided friend. These men were too rough, the cords too thin and painful to have been put on as a joke. And the running of their car into the bushes along side the road had been a dangerous move, scratching up the side of the expensive sports car. Neither of them could image any friend going to such dangerous and expensive actions for a joke.
In the darkness of the van they could see the shape of the remaining man doing something in the dark. Both girls had stopped screaming and were heaving for breath while blood raced fear-driven through their veins.
"What the hell is going on!" gasped Dawn, the younger sister by a year and the more emotional of the two.
"I don't know," replied Heather. She was taking their kidnapping with a little more calm than Dawn but that was her nature to not react so quickly to emotional situations.
"Hey, you! Get us out of here!" protested Dawn loudly. The outburst earned her the right to be the first one gagged. Ignoring fresh screams of protest, the man grabbed her face and forced a large rubber ball into her mouth, filling it and pressing the tongue firmly down. A strap buckled at the back of her head and she was effectively stopped from all conversation and limited to whining through her nose. Heather looked up as the dark shape of a second ball gag moved towards her mouth. With a shutter, she opened her mouth as wide as she could. She knew it useless to argue or struggle. These men would have their way with us, she told herself.
With both girls now hogtied and gagged, the man sat back against the wall of the van. Heather studied him as he sat there but could see little in the dim light coming from the dashboard instruments. She could only tell that he was a big man, sitting there with his knees pushed up and his arms resting on them. His job done, he seemed to be catching his breath and ignoring the bound girls.
Dawn strained her arms and shook with efforts to rid herself of the encircling and tight cord. Heather, usually the more introverted and often the more rational of the two, did not fight the cords. She knew escape was impossible. And logic told her that to escape from cords right now, in front of their captors, would only results in being bound again. And perhaps earn them some punishment. It was frightening to think of what a man could do to a bound, gagged and helpless woman.
So one girl lay still save for deep breathing while the other twisted and whined protests and curses. But a girl can keep up her struggles against unyielding rope only so long and eventually Dawn lay quiet in her bonds.
It was then the man added to their misery. Another piece of cord, wickedly thin, was looped around Dawn's elbows. The man slowly pulled the loop tighter and tighter until the girl's elbows were pressed hard against each other and muffled cries of pain were echoing within the van. More cord was wrapped around the soft flesh of her upper arms until her elbows were cruelly locked together.
Heather sighed and knew what would come next. She sensed that the tight cords binding her sister's elbows had not been put on as punishments for her struggles. The man had seemed to accept that the girls would struggle and had ignored that. No, the binding of their elbows, which was now happening to Heather, was simply to keep the girls under control. A girl with her elbows tied together would be easier to control, would be constantly concerned with the pain in her arms, and less likely to be planning escape. And the pain, Heather told herself, would be a lesson, a lesson to a freshly captured girl that these men were serious and would hurt them.
She winced as the cord bit into her arms but held cries of pain within. The pain wasn't all that bad. Not yet. She knew from experience that it would grow. Even if she didn't struggle, even if she lay as still as possible, not moving her arms at all, the pain would grow slowly, constantly until it was a terrible ache in her arms and shoulders. And she would be able to do nothing about it. She prayed it would be a short ride.
It was a long ride. Strange, at least to Dawn's mind, was the fact that after binding the girls and gagging them, the men paid no interest to them. Dawn had expected a man, any red-blooded male, to take advantage of a helpless girl. Especially a girl who had a wonderful figure, curvy in the right places and slender in the right places. And she knew that she and her sister were, without question, beautiful women. She expected no less than for those rough male hands to explore her body as she lay there helpless on the floor. And rape would be easy. All he had to do was untie her ankles and turn her over on her back. The tight bondage on her arms would keep her well under control. There was enough room in the van for him to spread her legs and take her by force.
It's sex, thought Dawn. These are sex fiends and we're kidnapped to be tortured and abused and repeatedly raped. So why hadn't these men shown any interest in touching two sexy girls? Damn it, even if they couldn't see them too well in the dark, they certainly had handled their bodies enough while carrying the girls to the van to know that they had two well-built, sexy females! Dawn felt almost insulted.
It's money, thought Heather. Both girls had plenty of money from their parent's estate. It was a kidnapping for ransom. They would be taken somewhere and held while a ransom demand was delivered. And then when the money was paid... She shook her head in the dark. No use worrying about that. Changes are they would be kept in a constant state of helplessness. And, if this bondage was any indication, these men were capable of keeping two girls helpless prisoners for any length of time.
Dawn, the one in the sky, not the girl, was painting the sky pinks and violets as the van pulled into a garage. Five hours of driving had produced the effect Heather had predicted. Both girls lay still and silent in their bonds, their entire world reduced to the humming of the engine and the pain in their arms.
When the van's back door was opened they had to blink at the bright electric lights. Then rough hands grabbed Dawn's legs and untied the rope connecting her ankles with her wrists. Heather's feet were also freed and both girls were roughly dragged out of the van. Unsteady on their feet, they had to have the support of male hands to remain upright at first.
"Hmmmm... not bad. You boys did good." The voice was high pitched, almost feminine but the speaker was a man. The words came with a slight lisp and slowly. "Very nice, boys." There seemed to be special emphasis on the word "boys."
At the edge of the light they could see the speaker, a man somewhere in his late thirties, if they had to guess at an age. He was slender, a trait accented by the tightly tailored slacks and pointed toes of the alligator leather shoes, and not more than five foot two or three in height. He wore a soft purple smoking jacket and held a cigarette in an ivory holder as least twelve inches long. Bluish smoke curled upward to disappear into the shadows.
"Well, boys, by all means take the ladies to the... ah, let's see... I think the blue room, don't you. It will go so well with their beautiful blonde hair."
With rough hands tightly gripping an arm, the sisters were guided down a long corridor, down a stairs, through another corridor and into the blue room. It was indeed a blue room, the ceiling painted a light blue, the walls covered with a flowered wallpaper patterned in five or six shades of blue. Thick blue carpet covered the floor. A crushed velvet arm chair, in shades of blue, of course, awaited the dapper little man.
"You may call me Mr. Ed," said the small man as he crossed over to the chair and sat down, carefully straightening the crease in his slacks. He laugh a high, squeaky laugh, as if he found his own name amusing. The laugh stopped, leaving a tiny smile tugging at the comers of his dainty mouth. Then he frowned and waved the cigarette holder vaguely in the direction of Dawn's and Heather's feet. Both men quickly dropped to their knees and not too gently removed the girl's shoes.
"Ah...." Mr. Ed sighed. "Now, perhaps we could see the merchandise?"
Dawn jerked back as a male hand touched the shoulder strap of her dress. And Heather didn't like being called "merchandise," it implied things that she didn't want to think about.
As one male hand held the back of her neck, the other took hold of her dress and ripped it from her body. Hundreds of dollars of Rodeo Drive's finest lie tattered on the floor. The little man smacked his lips at what was thus far revealed, the slender waist, hips flared just the right amount and large breasts held in a flimsy bra that hardly concealed.
Heather felt hands on her dress and made no resistance as the material was ripped off. The rough jerking hurt her arms but she held in any sound of pain. The little man in the chair made a little clicking noise with his tongue, perhaps it was approval. It certainly should be for Heather was every bit as beautiful and sexy as her sister. In fact, they were identical.
"Boys...." prompted Mr. Ed. First Dawn's flimsy bra was removed without bothering to unlatch the hook, then Heather's. "Magnificent! Beautiful!" came comments from the chair. Then the panties were violently and painfully removed, evoking a cry of pain from Dawn. "Magnificent... as good as I have ever seen. Oh, you boys have done so well...." Mr. Ed was actually clasping his hands in delight, flicking unnoticed ashes from his cigarette.
"Oh, my, can it be?" he said with a delighted intake of breath, "Have you boys gotten... are you two perhaps, sisters?"
Neither of the girls replied. One rough hand grabbed Dawn's left breast and squeezed. She jerked back and whined in pain.
'Tut, tut. One must be gentle with the fairer sex," cautioned Mr. Ed. "See how you've made her poor little breast all red. Now it doesn't match the other. We really should correct that little inequality."
Dawn's other breast was quickly redden by a rough squeeze and twist from a male hand.
"Oh, that's better," lisped Mr. Ed. "Now, ladies, I will ask again. Are you sisters?"
Dawn looked at Heather with fear in her eyes. Both girls nodded at the same time.
"Oh, delightful. We've never had sisters here before. I wonder... well, we'll see. Perhaps you could go as a pair. Perhaps I could even get more." Raising from his plush seat, Mr. Ed crossed to the girls and conducted a slow, careful, close-up inspection of their bodies. He tisked-tisked at the fading red marks on Dawns breast and seemed to appreciate the fine muscle tone in Heather's young body. But even though his inspection took him very close to the frightened girls he didn't touch either.
"Magnificent," was his conclusion. "Simply magnificent. You girls are wonderful animals, just wonderful. Once again I must congratulate you boys on your catch. You will be rewarded." He stretched out the last word to put special emphasis on it. "But for now perhaps we should place these two wonderful creatures in some secure place, yes?"
Without a word the two henchmen dragged the girls away. The last thing Heather saw was a smiling face puffing gently on his ivory cigarette holder. She noted that the cigarette itself was a pastel shade of violet.
The "secure place" was a small room, nowhere as plush as the Blue Room. Barely ten by ten, it had a no windows, bare walls painted soft pink, and a hard wood floor broken only by three metal rings set firmly into the floor a foot from each wall on the sides away from the door. Each metal ring had a short piece of chain linked through it, the free end of which had a padlock through the last link. Dawn was taken into the room first, protesting through her gag about the rough treatment. She was pushed down to the floor and the chain locked around her neck. Heather was quickly taken in and locked to the metal ring on the wall opposite her sister. Just as quickly the henchmen were gone and the girls left alone in a small room, painfully bound and gagged. And naked, which was something that made both the ill-treated girls sure their kidnapping was somehow for sexual purposes, even if they had not yet been touched.
Dawn was kneeling with her head held bowed by the taunt chain, tears falling to the wooden floor between her knees. Heather sighed deeply and settled herself on her side as comfortably as she could. Her arms hurt terribly and her jaw ached. She had hoped that this "secure place" would mean that their arms would be untied but apparently it was not to be.
Inside Dawn was fear and anger and pain. Her arms were hurting even more than her sister's because she had been struggling against the cords while in the van. She wanted to lash out at these sex fiends, especially that little twerp who called himself Mr. Ed. It helped a little to ease the pain by imaging him being thrown around the room by her own hands. She was certain that rape would follow when that twerp allowed his "boys" to have the Ryker sisters. Perhaps he would even try to rape them himself-if he was man enough-which Dawn doubted.
Heather couldn't get a fix on the situation. If they were kidnapped for ransom, why did Mr. Ed not know they were sisters? His remarks made her think that they had been kidnapped more or less at random by the "boys", in which case they could not hope for ransom to set them free. And there were unnerving comments about "getting more" and "merchandise." What then was their fate?
With no clock and no passage of sunlight they couldn't tell how long they stayed in that small room. The air was neither warm nor cool. Several times Dawn tried to talk to Heather but attempts at conversation were doomed to failure. Even communication with hand gestures was taken away from them by the thin cords they hated. Heather could see those cords cutting deeply into Dawn's arms and the dark color of the skin below the elbows. She could also see the fingers move now and then so she knew Dawn was suffering but no damage being done. She could move her own fingers and even still feel with them so she knew her hands were okay. But the ache in her shoulders was terrible and her elbows hurt something fierce.
At one point Dawn jerked her head back in rebellion against the confining chain and kicked at the wall with a bare foot. After the little show of rebellion was over she was just as securely bound and gagged.
When the door opened both girls instantly looked up hopefully. Was freedom from these painful cords finally coming?
It was one of the nameless "boys". And it was relief. He casually cut the cords from tortured flesh without a word. Silent gratitude flowed from both girls but fell upon an unresponsive male who projected the air of one doing a boring and slightly distasteful job. He cleaned up the severed lengths of rope and pocketed them. Then he produced two pairs of handcuffs from the other pocket. Neither girl could put up any effective protest with arms limp and screaming loudly from returning circulation, and both quickly found their arms again behind their bodies, this time held securely by metal.
Before leaving, the unnamed male removed the ball gags, almost as if it were an afterthought. The door closed solidly behind him.
"My god," sobbed out Dawn.
'Take it easy," soothed Heather to her younger sister. "We'll make out."
"Oh, Heather, wise up," snapped Dawn. "These bastards only want one thing of us, the same thing any man wants from a women."
"Then why," came the calm reply, "haven't we been touched?" She paused a moment to let her sister think about that one. "We've been helpless half the night and naked in front of all three of them. And we haven't been touched except to bind us and... and examine the merchandise."
"What the hell did that Mr. Ed bastard mean by that?"
Heather sighed. "I don't know," she said. Inside she was afraid she knew.
"Well, that bastard had better not try anything funny."
"What? Try something funny? Dawn, he's had us kidnapped, stripped and painfully bound. What else funny can he do?"
"Well, you know what I mean. Like... well, if any of them tries to rape me, I'll kick him in the balls."
Heather sighed softly and refrained from pointing out to her sister that if rape were coming she would probably be tied down quite firmly. This bunch had already shown that they tended to use bondage to keep a girl under control. And, she reminded herself, they know how to tie a girl quite well.
Dawn muttered some vague complaints about their treatment then faded off into silence. Heather thought upon the events that had snatched them from a happy existence into a world they had no control of. She was a worldly woman despite her young age of twenty-three, and knew women were kidnapped for things other than rape. There might still be the possibility of ransom being the reason. But Heather doubted it. Their parents might be wealthy and generous with gifts to their daughters like that fancy sports car, but their father was a tough old bastard himself and unlikely to just hand over cash without a fight. Heather knew her father, had seen him wheeling and dealing with shrewd and ruthless cunning, and knew that he would not want to give in to any demand for ransom. At least she didn't think he would.
"Heather," interrupted Dawn.
"Yes?"
'They are going to ask Daddy for money, aren't they?" She sounded much less brave.
"I don't know. I just don't know. That could be."
"Then Daddy will pay then and we'll be set free." It sounded more like a question than a statement.
"Maybe. Look, Heather, maybe they want ransom, maybe not. But in any case you're going to have hang tough and not let them get to you. Just don't do anything stupid and keep an eye out for a chance to escape." Dawn looked puzzled. "What... if not money... Heather, what else could it be?"
Heather sucked in her breath before answering. "Sometimes a beautiful girl-a beautiful girl with a good body-can be sold."
"Sold? You mean... ! Like a slave? Hell, I read a book once where this girl was kidnapped and sold into a harem for this wealthy oil sheik."
"Maybe."
"Hell, he was real mean to her. He even had her whipped. Gosh! And when she tried to escape he had her buried in the sand up to her neck for a whole day. And then he hung her up by her thumbs and "
"Dawn! Knock it off! You and those damned trashy novels you read. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm just telling you to stay cool and wait for a good chance to escape."
"We're beautiful," Dawn continued as if she hadn't been listening. "And we've got great bodies! You know the way the guys look at us around the pool. Especially when I wear that tiny black bikini, you know the one, the one you said was so small I could fold it up and keep it in a pill case? Well, maybe we will be sold. Gosh, that would be exciting!"
"Dawn!"
"Well, I mean... it would be terrible. I didn't mean exciting like in fun, you know. I mean, well, exciting like... oh hell, I don't have a way with words like you do, Heather."
"Dawn, this is not one of your erotic novels. These men are real and can hurt us. Did that rope around your arms feel exciting?"
"Well, no!"
Heather sighed at the hesitation in Dawn's negative. She knew her sister had a strong tendency towards the kinky side of life, and didn't doubt that, under different, more pleasant, circumstances, her little sister would be turned on by being tied up. Hell, Dawn was turned on by any sexy guy winking at her, by rock music, and rides on motorcycles. There really wasn't too much that didn't turn on the little sexpot.
Heather let the subject drop. Dawn could be exasperating but she wasn't a stupid girl. Inside there was a hard core of strong will and determination. Her innocent and not-too bright exterior was partly an act she had fallen into when she discovered that men fell head over heels for a sexy body and face coupled with sweet innocence. Sweet but erotic innocence, thought Heather. Twenty-one years old but she looked and sounded like eighteen.
It was no use trying to warn Dawn. Besides what was she really to warn her off? Heather wasn't sure there really were girl kidnapped and sold into slavery any more. She had heard rumors, hints now and then in the rich crowd her father moved in. A subtle hint that some people, those with enough money to feel themselves above the law, might buy and possess a girl held against her will. A slavegirl in other words. But she had dismissed such talk as male bragging.
Suddenly realizing she was very tired, Heather snuggled down to rest on her side as best she could with arms secured behind her back. Without realizing it was happening she was soon asleep, exhausted from being up all night and the events that had happened to her.
Dawn also settled down but stayed awake for a little while. Mixed emotions twirled within her tired mind. This was about the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. At first she had thought it was a gag by that handsome Reginald Brockton. Dawn had once spent an entire night with her hands tied behind her back while she and Reginald bounced around his huge bed. That had been one hell of a night, and toward dawn as the pace of sexual activities slowed down, he had tied her ankles together and let her sleep until noon all naked and tied up. She had liked that very much.
But she knew Reginald was not behind this. This was much too rough and scary for him. So what was going to happen to them? Exhausted by events, she fell asleep amid churning images of handsome oil sheiks, girls in harem customs, and chains.
It must have been nearly noon when they were awoke to their first day as captives. It was the two "boys" who released the chains and locks and led the naked and bound girls down a corridor to a surprisingly lavish bathroom. One at a time the girls were allowed to take baths, but their hands were not released from behind their backs. The job of soaping and cleaning was performed by one of the boys in a sadly impersonal manner suggesting this was only a job to him, not an adventure as it would have been to most males. Shampoo was applied to their hair and afterwards the boys proved surprisingly good at styling a woman's hair as she sat naked and bound before a large mirror. Then they were given high heel shoes with heels at least five inches tall, a ridiculous height for walking, but a perfect height for showing off a girl's legs to perfection. Heather noted that the high heels included ankle straps so they couldn't take them off. Not without their hands, at least.
Just the lightest touch of makeup was applied, only enough to highlight their natural beauty, and they were ready. But ready for what, they asked themselves?
The answer was not long in coming, and it came in the form of another room in that strange house, a room with a small stage and some comfortable leather seats facing the stage. Mr. Ed was standing by the stage, splendid in a puce leisure suit with pink suede shoes, a lavender hankie fluffed in a pocket, and his ever-present cigarette holder. The cigarette that trailed thin smoke towards the ceiling was a pale yellow.
"Well, hurry, you big sillies! Get those girls up here," he admonished with a wave of his holder. "We have a sale going on here!"
Heather and Dawn were marched onto the wooden platform to stand there in uncertainty. There were lights attached to the ceiling in the back of the room and those lights prevented the girls from seeing who was sitting in the chairs. All they could see were several lumps that moved lightly from time to time. Heather set her mouth in a thin line, determined to hide the fear she felt inside. Dawn alternated between looking like a frightened little girl and a very angry young lady.
"Turn around, girls, give these gentlemen a chance to see what you look like," twittered Mr. Ed. "Give them a good look."
Heather did as she was told. Whoever was in that unseen audience had already seen most of what there was to see of her naked body, and disobedience would probably get earn them rough handling or something worse. Dawn would have refused just on general principles but she saw Heather circle slowly and did the same with a look of disgust on her face. Both girls had beautiful bodies and had occasionally shown them off to male friends, teasing and provoking the male animal, and usually giving in to desire in the end. But this was something else again. Heather found it exciting and fearful at the same time and wondered how it was she could feel both emotions at the same time. Dawn would have found a certain amount of excitement and stimulation at showing her fine body off, but it was subdued under a rising anger that she should be treated thus. She had always been the pampered one, the one boys showered gifts on, treated with respect and took to the most expensive restaurants. She was definitely not used to being treated like merchandise.
"They are sisters!" explained Mr. Ed in a delighted lisp. "A most unusual pair. Very fine pieces of, er, pieces of... well, you know what."
Heather assumed he had meant "womanhood" but had been unable to force himself to utter the word. Dawn figured he meant "cunts" or something equally vulgar.
"Shall we start the biding at one hundred thousand? Hmmmm?" Someone must have raised a hand. "Oh, good! Do I hear one fifty?"
The biding went on, the price reaching rather large figures quickly. Heather was a bit surprised. Somehow she had felt that the common criminals who would kidnap two girls out of their car on a dark backwoods road would not be the kind to know people with this much money. Well, they did, and her sister was about to be sold to a dark shadow that raised its finger more often than did the others.
But Heather also sensed the build up of emotions in her sister. There was no mistaking the stance of her body, the expression on her face and the angry way she twisted her fingers into a fist. Dawn was about to explode, Heather had seen it happen enough. Carefully she inched her way towards the edge of the stage closest to the door. With everyone's eyes on Dawn it wasn't hard to fade into the background.
The explosion came just as Heather had feared. Just as Mr. Ed was calling for someone to top a ridiculously high amount, Dawn turned to him and sent a swift kick aimed to plant a high heel shoe squarely in the center of his manhood, assuming he had one. The kick was perfectly aimed and would have done considerable damage had it landed. But the slender man had easily stepped aside and Dawn's leg soared high only inches from his hips. She probably could have kept her balance had she not been on skyscraper high heels, but she was falling on her ass before she knew it.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mr. Ed with one hand to his mouth as if shocked by such a vulgar display.
The two boys were quickly onto Dawn, who recovered quickly to deliver what she could in the way of kicks while laying on her back, and call all those present several colorful, graphic, and rude names. While one held her legs together, the other grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her head back. His free hand quickly and expertly stuffed a wad of leather into her mouth and strapped it tightly in place. Then they bound her ankles together. Their final act was to set her back on her feet where she tottered precariously on the high heels. Anger subsided she realized that she had to be careful or she Would fall crashing to the wooden floor. She still tried to call them names but nothing much came out of the gag.
While all the commotion occurred, Heather edged closer to the door and made her move as the gag was being stuffed into Dawn's mouth. She might have made it but a hand shot out of the darkness from the seat nearest the door and grabbed her forearm with a steel grip. The unseen man said nothing but easily prevented Heather from escaping. For several seconds she stared at the hand holding her arm. It was a strong hand, and Heather noted a large class ring with a purple stone. She could even read the school name surrounding the stone, "Kingston University." Finally, with a sigh of disgust, she turned and walked back to the stage. The hand let her go.
The sight of Dawn being gagged and struggling angrily must have reawaken the desire to possess this lovely package because the bidding started up again and her final price was a considerable margin above the previous offer.
When it was Heather's turn, she walked to center stage and stood meekly as money was offered and accepted for her body. She didn't want this to be happening but told herself that this was not the place to protest. With feminine cunning she told herself to wait and the time would come when her captors would make a mistake. And once she was free there would be hell to pay!
Perhaps men like slavegirls with spirit for Heather brought in less money than did her sister. Neither girl had seen the person who had bought then. The lights remained on the ten or so bidders marched out, so the sisters could make out no faces. One of the boys placed a shoulder in Dawn's stomach and picked her up. Heather was guided with a hand on her arm as they both were taken to another room, this one a garage of sorts. There were several cars parked there and the tail lights of one disappearing up a ramp.
Then there began the job of packaging the girls for their journey. Dawn was taken first. One of the boys held her arms as the other untied the ropes that held her wrists crossed. She struggled but to no avail as the wrists were retied with the palms together. Then her elbows were tied together with thin rope, cruelly tight and painful.
More rope was added to her legs, just below the knees and again just above the knees. There was a small trunk on the concrete floor and from that trunk came a black leather discipline hood, a sheath of leather that covered the entire head and laced up the back so it fitted almost like a second skin. The only hole was a small one for her nose. Then Heather watched in dismay as Heather was picked up and laid face down in the trunk of a large black car. A piece of rope was added linking her ankles with her wrists and pulled until her heels were pressed into the palms of her hands. The final knots were tied on the other side of her ankles, away from struggling fingers.
Mr. Ed walked over to the trunk to gaze down with a faint smile on his face, With one hand resting lightly on the shoulder of one of the boys, he complemented them, "Very nice job, boys. You're so good at what you do, you silly hamburgers, you! I could just squeeze you until all the mayonnaise runs out!"
Then the trunk was slammed and Dawn driven out of Heather's life. She wondered if it might not be forever.
The boys turned their attention to Heather.
"I don't suppose you would be a little less rough on me if I promised to be quiet and not struggle?"
"Standard procedure, lady."
"Yes, I understand." She had meant the words sarcastically but they seemed not to notice.
Ropes were bound around her ankles and then again around the legs above and below the knees. Then her arms were untied and retied with the elbows forced to touch. Heather felt the pain of the cords and winced. She knew there would be more and more pain to come but there was nothing she could do right now. Protest would be ignored and fighting back would result in tighter ropes. She sighed as they opened her mouth and inserted a rubber ball. The gag was strapped so tightly she wondered how strong they thought her tongue was. There was certainly no chance of her pushing it out now. Then came the hood, a terrible form of torture she had only read about once or twice, and dreaded. Her last sight was of Mr. Ed, leaning against the garage wall, smoke curling daintily around his smiling face. Then there was the smell of leather and darkness.
The hood was laced tightly and Heather knew it would be as terrible as she had imagined. She felt herself picked up and laid down on her stomach. Then came the ropes bending her legs up, pushing her hands wide as her heels came into her palms.. The bend in her body was a strain but bearable, at least for now. The slam of the trunk was like the crack of doom. In complete darkness and helplessness Heather Ryker was driven off into a life of slavery.
CHAPTER TWO - PAINFUL PRELUDE
There comes an end to tears and Dawn Ryker had found but little relief in shedding them. Dejectedly her eyes traveled the wet, bare skin of her arm were her head had rested as she wept and found the object which had come to symbolize an implacable captivity. It was a plain but exquisitely made band of metal that had all the appearance of silver as did the trail of links leading to the wall. There they were attached to a heavy ring which had laughed at all her efforts to tear it loose. The silver band was right round her right wrist, but tight enough to hurt but tight enough so she was always aware of its presence. Dawn had hurt her wrist by fighting the lovely sliver fetter until she abandoned the effort in frustration and disgust.
The chain which joined Dawn Ryker to the wall permitted a surprising amount of freedom but not enough to reach the door or window of the pretty room which had been her prison for the last five days-five days of frightening boredom and premonitions. Her only human companion had been one or the other of what she now thought of as guards as they brought her food and each day, out of a caprice Dawn could not understand, had changed the nature of the silver shackles by which real freedom was denied. She had been kept naked as when transported in the trunk of a car. On the first day her bond had been a silver belt tight around her tummy and linked to the wall in the same manner as her hand was now. On the second day it had been her ankle which bore the sliver band. And on the third it was a collar, snug upon her neck. Dawn has sat before the dresser with its big mirror, admiring the effect the smooth shinning metal collar had upon her looks. Had it not been keeping her prisoner she might have thought it pretty. Yesterday it had been her left which had been captive to the lovely sliver bond. Today it was her right and tomorrow they would no doubt think up something else. But the guards refused to speak, tending her needs in a bored silence despite her flood of questions. Dawn knew she had been sold but who purchased her!
After the auction, Samual Ryker's daughter had been robbed of sight and sound by the soft leather of the constricting hood and the long ride in the trunk of a car so cruelly bound as she had been was a remembered agony seemingly lasting forever. Her elbows still bore marks of punitive cord as did to a lesser degree her ankles. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Miss Dawn Ryker found herself most prettily marked. The youthful female prisoner had lived over and over again the terrors of the prelude to this condition in which she now sat aimlessly upon a bed to play constantly with the silver wristlet and its links. Dawn had never know such fear or frustration in her young life.
The lonely captive thought constantly of Heather but her sister had vanished from her life and was probably as naked and helpless as she. Dawn felt certain she had been purchased by a man who was now softening her up by the tried and true methods of boredom and loneliness. The unhappy captive thought often of the books she had read, the books Heather had told her not to think about in which naked girls were whipped and ravished again and again between the miscellaneous tortures of suspension by their thumbs or the smoking agony of scarlet iron upon there skin. She shuttered at such dreams and thrust them from her. The dreams and images of those tortured girls kept coming back. Finally she was forced to realize that sitting as she pleased with only one chained wrists as a reminder of being owned was not actually as bad as it might have been. As of yet she had received no pain. With youthful hope Dawn was soon envisioning a master who would adore her completely and from whom she would soon escape. The chained girl settled down and devoted her thoughts to constricting a benign and good-natured owner too old for the ravishment of girls and so forgetful that he would undoubtedly leave his ring of keys laying around where they could be easily picked up by a maiden determined to escape.
She was deep into this pleasing but unlikely fantasy when she heard a sound. It was like the whisking of a rug from beneath Dawn's feet as she gazed at the figure in the doorway in a mixture of emotions to leave her totally disorganized. After a moment of stricken silence she blurted out, "But you sold me! Whoever it was took me away in a car."
Mr. Ed bestowed the benefit of his unruffled smile and a wave of his outrageous cigarette. His voice was the same cheerful chirp, "A small deception, dear girl. I can always replenish the girls of my inventory as they are sold. But you possess a quality I cannot bear to part with. You need to be brought down to size and this is a delight I cannot forgo. At the auction it was the house that bought you and simulated your transport for your sister's benefit and that of the other customers. Would be bad for business if they knew I changed my mind and withheld some merchandise, don't you know. Also bad for my image, dearie." He paused to suck at the light green cigarette in his ivory holder. "Dear Heather, and all the other buyers, will be supposing you're being whipped and ravished by an unknown far away. But it is I who will have the pleasure of teaching you manners and a proper feminine submission." He grinned and raised a hand in mock protest. "No, no, don't thank me. You are going to give me the greatest pleasure of my life."
"What are you going to do with me?" Dawn was still grappling with the unexpected.
"The word commonly used is 'break.' I am going to break and mold that rebellious spirit of yours. I'll have you kneeling and begging for my favors in short order."
"Dreamer!"
"No dream, sweet child. You are already looking at the most basic instrument by which young women such as you are brought to see the light."
Dawn shivered, she knew this conversation was simply Mr. Ed licking his chops at her expense. Her eyes were focused upon the long and slender whip with which her tormentor lovingly played, stroking it gently as his eyes traced her naked curves. Instinctively she shifted over to the other side of the bed and stood erect to face the menace of the male, her shackled hand outstretched to the limit of its chain.
"You have plenty of chain, dear child," Mr. Ed said, "why don't you stand comfortably by me?"
"You're going to hit me with that thing," Dawn said shakily. But she followed his request. She found herself once more playing with the silver band upon her wrists and flushed when he jibbed, "Won't come off, will it?"
"Of course it won't. It's hateful of you to keep me chained like this. Look, I'm willing to be polite. Please unfasten this thing from my wrist. I don't have to be chained like a wild animal in order for us to talk."
"I want you to kneel and call me Master."
It was like a blow. The frightened girl flinch as if actually struck. But caution was not her strong point and she flared, "Don't be silly, you know I won't do a thing like that. Hire a whore!"
"Honeybunch, that's an invitation for you-know-what!" Mr. Ed was suddenly a coiled spring.
Dawn backed away, fearfully conscious of the limitations of her chain. The idea of obeying Mr. Ed's command was so far from her mind that she never for the moment considered Mr. Ed's demand. When he pounced and struck, only the tip of his whip connected with her flesh but it hurt enough to make her yelp in dismay and make her leap back upon the bed.
Panting, Dawn turned to face a danger she could not escape.
"In case you haven't figured it out," said Mr. Ed gently as he idly flicked his instrument of pain, 'TU explain how this is going to go. You'll run and I'll follow. No matter how you leap back and forth across the bed that chain will deliver you to my whip. If you think your bottom is the only place a girl ever gets whipped, I'll prove you wrong. You've got more whippable flesh than you ever dreamed. Now, would you care to save yourself pain and kneel upon the rug?"
"Up yours, buster! I'm not going to kneel and I'm not going to stand still while you cut me to pieces with that horrible thing."
The flick of his wrist was almost too fast to see and the blur of leather darted to find the soft flesh of her breast. She screamed out and, in anger, launched herself towards this greasy little man. Her head landed squarely in the narrow center of his being to be followed by a frightened foot impacting its heel hard within a startled crotch. Tugging desperately at the end of her chain, Dawn gazed in satisfaction at the bent over and gasping figure of the man who had threatened to break her spirit. Mr. Ed crotched to regard her balefully.
"I suppose you can guess what you've just earned yourself?" he asked in a wheezing voice. When she didn't answer he slowly straightened up, apparently not injured as seriously as Dawn might have hoped. He retrieved his riding crop while Dawn backed away and cursed her chain.
The kidnapped girl had never known much pain in her life but now Mr. Ed taught her new meanings to the word as she fought the chain in a futile effort to escape his wrath. But it was useless and his riding crop sought out and found many places on her naked body to touch with pain. When she covered one part, he easily shifted targets to another part exposed. There was always a target available. Soon Dawn was sobbing as she danced around trying to escape the leather horror. It was unfair, it was cruel, and the sobbing girl vowed it would teach her nothing. But, as her skin was marked and burned again and again by the snickering crop, she knew instinctively she was entering an new dimension of what it meant to be a girl. Mr. Ed would not be treating a man thus, the idea was silly. But, because his target was the chained girl, he found fresh joy in each shameful mark he etched upon the fleeing flesh. Recognizing that Dawn was reaching the end of her strength, he paused to watch her fall limp and sobbing upon the bed.
'Take a minute to think quietly," he suggested, almost with kindness. "I can go on whipping you like this all day. Why don't you simply put an end to it by kneeling at my feet?"
"You rotten asshole, you know I'll never do that! When I kneel in front of you I have given up everything, I'd be just a nothing." Dawn's hurt young voice was muffled in the bedclothes but her nakedness was still tense in revolt. In despair she said, "Go ahead and whip me to pieces. I won't run around anymore, I'll just lay here until I die. Don't you understand, you bastard, I can't possibly kneel, even if I tried I couldn't do it. Go ahead and kill me."
Mr. Ed stood quietly surveying the havoc he had made. The girl on the bed was very beautiful as she sobbed and made her vow. The man with the whip knew a glow of satisfaction that he had recognized the spirit of this girl, the nearly unbreakable spirit that would be such a joy to break. But he knew, too, he must use good judgment in the punishments he inflicted in the coming days. It did not matter whether this girl knelt now or at some later time. Or even if she never knelt at all! Dawn Ryker was exquisitely designed for punishment, and punished she would surely be. Quietly he turned and left the room.
Caring only for the pain and the metal circlet around her wrist, Dawn sobbed herself into mental exhaustion until the tears stopped. Then she slept, uncaring if Mr. Ed was there or not. She was mildly surprised when she awoke and found that she could take such pain and shed no blood. Her left breast throbbed from a line of swollen skin across the sweet and tender curves. After a long time the whipped girl, sore and stiff from what had been done to her, went to the big mirror to assess her wounds and was amazed at what she beheld. Strangely, the more she looked upon the scarlet and purple devastation of her skin, the more pleasure she found in that looking. She turned this way and that to miss no part of the scene. It was then she noted how the crop had cut at every part of her expect the most obvious: her round bottom was still unmarked. Then she noticed that he had also, either by design or luck, not whipped her crotch and the tenderest part of her that was found there. No doubt this most feminine part was reserved for another time. Perhaps Mr. Ed, in his pretty clothes and damned fool cigarette holder, would reappear at any time to continue what he considered as her tuition in how it felt to be a girl. Dawn wished most ardently she were a seven foot male who could crush him with a single blow.
Once more she lay upon the bed, every part of her hurting, sore and tender and cruelly marked. But in this aftermath of punishment she could not help but be aware of sexuality. Dawn Ryker was hot-blooded and ardent, and as the agony of what had been done to her slowly receded, it was replaced by an erotic heat and an aching desire for human hands and human lips. She lay a long time dreaming mischievously carnal visions of how her need might be-pleasurably dealt with until once more she was interrupted by the door.
This time it was both the guards. In their usual silence, they each possessed themselves of one of Dawn's bare arms and led her from the room after having unlocked the silver band. Ruefully the captive girl reflected it was almost worth whatever lay ahead to be rid of the horrible thing. Chains would probably be a part of this new life, but after the past five days any relief from the silver bonds was welcome.
Dawn did not struggle. She knew it useless and from no on must conserve her strength for the improbably opportunity of an escape. In the hands of these professionals she was no more than a kitten. She walked limply where she was led, not bothering to ask the questions they would refuse to answer. But these powerful men who gripped her arms had shattered her pretty dreams so once more the knew only fear and apprehension. Mr. Ed was not yet through with her, she felt sure of it.
For an establishment which kidnapped and sold young women, the chamber to which Dawn was now led could well be described as the "Utility Room," everything in it was strictly functional and designed for the correction of wayward girls who still harbored the illusion of possessing rights. The kidnapped girl allowed her gaze to wander around the walls and above to the ceiling. She shuttered at what she saw.
Their concern appeared to be two slender poles raising from floor to ceiling and holding rings. Positioned between them, the now trembling girl could easily judge their use. Had her hands and arms been free, she could have stretched them to either side and touched them. She guessed that she would soon be bound to them. Her guards busied themselves with thin rope, working to encircle one of her wrists with a number of strands which they knotted tightly with expert ease before raising her arms to tie her wrists to rings above the level of her head. Then they performed the same service with her feet so that Dawn Ryker now stood between the poles with her hands high and fastened to either side, as were her feet to render her nakedness a perfect "X" without stress or strain but with little freedom of movement. She would stand thus until someone freed her. And she was sure that something else would happen before that release came.
It was very quiet and lonely when the men had gone. Evidently she was to be forced to wait, probably as a part of the punishment itself. But time flowed on and no one came. She looked up the bareness of her arms to the neat windings of cord around her wrists. Great care had been taken to provide security that was also visually attractive. There was no visible slack, no loose ends, only neat windings. The same was true with her ankles. After examining her bondage, Dawn realize how obscenely her legs were pulled apart to emphasis her sex. Here, too, was food for thought for she remembered in the brutal books how certain villains gained pleasure from ravishing a girl as she stood helplessly erect with ankles roped apart. She wondered if Mr. Ed would use her thus. It didn't seem likely but then she would never have thought that he would resort to a fake sale and transportation of her just to keep her himself.
It might have been two hours before he came, time was uncertain to the naked girl. He was his usual prim and swishy self but without the crop. His greeting was typical, "Enjoying the hospitality of the house, I see. You're a lucky girl, sweet thing. I do hope you find that pose as enchanting as I do. Would you care to have me resume your whipping?"
"No, I wouldn't. And I don't see why you have to be such a bastard. You half killed me this morning. Are you going to finish the job this afternoon?"
"You and that sister of yours undoubtedly have the loveliest breasts I've ever seen, and, believe me, I've seen quite a few. I see one of yours got nicely marked. Want me to even things up?"
"No, don't. Please don't!" The plea escaped her lips before she could bite it back. "I don't want to be whipped. I don't want any of this. I know you can kill me if you want but I don't see any sense in that, either. Look, there's one thing I will willingly do for you because I know it's something men have to have. If you'll set me free, I'll position myself anyway you want and you can push it into me as you wish. Isn't that good enough for you?" Her voice was breaking.
What happened then was total shock. Dawn's eyes beheld something which at first she could not believe. Mr. Ed peeled away the natty mustache from his upper lips and easily shed the scanty coverings of his lavender clothes to reveal a tall, slender women who carelessly disposed of the bra to reveal a pair of small but neat breasts. She had been a strange looking man but was now slender female with a figure pleasing to any male who liked them tall and slim. She might not have been as curvy as Dawn, and certainly not as top-heavy, but she was attractive in her own right.
"I hope you like me as I really am, darling." The darling was stretched out and husky with special meaning. Mr. Ed ruffled his head of carefully styled hair so that it fluffed up until it was much more feminine. Her voice a tone lower than it had been, actually more masculine. "And I must warn you, darling, I'm much more deadly naked than clothed. Only a girl knows how to be most cruel to other girls."
Staring with open mouth at a stark nakedness still holding the long ivory cigarette holding between her lips with its pastel cigarette, Dawn stuttered, "But if you're a woman, you won't want to hurt me! Please untie me so we can be friends."
"Nice try, darling. Any other cute observations?"
"But if we're friends you won't want to hurt me. Please don't whip me again."
"Don't be silly, dear, you know I have to hurt you. I can't possibly be around a girl long without wanting to do nice things to her that she won't want or enjoy. Get it through that pretty head of yours that you're mine to play with."
"I expect Daddy would give you money to let me loose," Dawn said hopefully, knowing full well in her own heart that her father would tell any ransom demand to go to hell.
"I don't want your father's money. I've probably got more than he has."
"Well then why don't you sell me to someone who will be kind? I can't stand that awful whip."
"I've already told you, I want you for myself. After I've got you properly trained, we'll have the nicest times together, you'll actually enjoy belonging to me. And as for that beef, I do assure you can stand much more than you think you can. I'm often surprised at how much punishment a girl can take. I wish you'd take my word for it and save yourself pain. I think you got a lovely body, what do you think of mine?"
"I think you're gorgeous, too, but why can't you be kind instead of cruel. Girls aren't suppose to want to whip other girls. Or scare them half to death."
"You're wrong there, sugar plum, females won't admit to wanting to slice a girl's skin but at least half of them do, even if it's only in their dreams." Mr. Ed laughed at her captive's bewilderment. "It's the same way with men, at least half of them would love to whip a girl until she did whatever she was told. That's what I'm going to do to you, darling, it's beautifully simple, I've handled a lot of girls since I went into the kidnapping business but you're the nicest I've even seen. Try and think of it as something to be proud of, that you're the most whippable girl alive."
It was all casually stated as if between friends. The girl bound in the revealing X between the posts could not judge the moods or caprice of she who's lips dripped so strange a mixture of sweetness and gall. It was a terrible thing to behold while helplessly held hand and foot while at the mercy of a girl who's moods were never inclined to mercy. It was then the inevitable happened. The mistress stepped forward to grab Dawn's exposed sex. It was a very strong and very knowing hand, and females eyes met female eyes in mutual understanding of its power. When the mistress bent to capture a tender nipple between sharp teeth, the victim gasped, "Please don't do that. Please don't excite me. Please don't make me have an orgasm while I'm fastened up like this."
Surprisingly both lips and hand fell away. "You don't deserve an orgasm, darling," she was casually assured. "You'll have to earn your orgasms and, if I catch you playing with yourself, you'll be a sorry girl indeed. What I'd best do now, darling, is find a couple of whips. I'll let you kiss them this time and let you have a good look at them. Just a moment."
Miss Dawn Ryker was no authority on the subject of whips. She gazed at what was held out to her with visible distaste. One was a pretty thing with several sinister leather thongs and a length of no more than fifteen inches. It was a feminine instrument designed to give girls pain where they wanted it least. Its companion was a long, tapered leather thong, carefully crafted for the marking of female skin. Both had short braided handles. They were held up to the bound girl's lips. "Kiss them, darling."
It was such a simple thing to do that Dawn almost fell into the trap. But she realized that to kiss this instruments of torture would be the same submission as to kneel on the rug. And if she could not do that, she surely could not kiss what was about to hurt her terribly. Fling her hair back, she glared up at her tormentor and retorted, "Why must you be such a bitch, you know damned well I won't do it. I can't, I absolutely cant'! I won't kneel and I won't kiss whips. Please let me go. I'll ask you for mercy but that's as far as I'll go."
Mr. Ed laughed delightedly. "You're running true to form, darling. You and I can forget the 'Mr. Ed.' I'll keep that for other occasions. But when we're along together you can use my real name. It's Natasha. I don't suppose you're willing to call me 'Mistress' right at them moment. But some day... for now I want you to call me Natasha just as I call you Dawn. Would you like me to whip your bottom first?"
"I don't want to be whipped at all and you're not going to make me ask for it."
Natasha sighed once more. "I seem to be in a good mood," she said like a mother to a wayward little girl. "I've got lot's of time so I'll make this last for you. It's going to be quite different from this morning. Here, let me kiss you first. You can't stop me so your might as well be sensible. Stick your chin up."
It was a beautiful, wonderful kiss. Natasha started it by grasping a handful of hair to compel obedience but quickly abandon her hold as hungry lips sought her own in a deep need for affection and human contact. Dawn found some comfort in the lips and clasp of bare arms. While not exactly a stranger to lesbian activities, Dawn surprised even herself with her response to the naked body pressing hard against hers. Natasha had a firm, trim body and attractive. Dawn found herself straining against her bonds in a futile effort to give all of herself in the passionate act which made Natasha suddenly human and plant the seed of hope once more in the prisoner's mind. Stepping back with shinning eyes, Natasha exclaimed, "You've got the most wonderful body, darling, and you respond sooooo well with it! I'm going to enjoy myself with you." Dawn Ryker had thought she could not move but as the single thong cut into her bottom she lunged against the ropes which bound her tight. Natasha positioned herself to quietly watch these female responses to her first use of the tapered thong. She was as bright-eyed and with heaving breasts revealing passion within. She waited until the struggles against cord died down and the girl was once more limp and panting. After a brief silence she asked, "Did it really hurt that much, darling?"
Hurt eyes rose. "It hurt more than I could ever believe possible. Please don't whip me anymore."
"You know I will, darling."
"Then could you hit me less hard. That was a most terrible cut. Is it bleeding?"
"Of course not, darling! But you're going to have the loveliest mark. Ready for another?"
Dawn knew herself helpless and condemned. She would stand as she was during her mistress' pleasure and would endure whatever Natasha chose to inflict. The second stroke seemed every bit as hard as the first. And her response was every bit as strong, she fought and screamed in a mixture of emotions overshadowed by pain. It was a while before she again fell limp within her bonds and met Natasha's eyes. In the bitterness of defeat, the whipped girl muttered, "I've sorry about the screams, I can't help them, you're hurting me too much."
"Perhaps you'd like to kiss the whip now, dear?"
"No, I wouldn't and I don't want to kneel at your feet, either. Please, have some mercy. I don't think you understand how terribly this hurts."
"Yes, I do, dear. You're not the first girl I've whipped. But, tell me, sweetheart, aren't you getting some sort of a thrill out of this? I mean, standing there like that because you're tied, and knowing that my whip is going to cut at you. And you can't do a thing about it. Here, let me feel." Dawn cringed in shame as the avid palm discovered the wetness of her pussy, a wetness which betrayed something she could not understand. But Natasha was delighted and dried her wet hand lovingly upon a captive breast. Dawn sobbed in frustration.
"You've done what you want, you've hurt and made me feel more shame than I've ever in my life. You don't have to go on."
"Seems to me I've heard that tune before, darling. Would you like to be gagged? Might save you some embarrassment."
"No. Oh, please no, not that!"
"But, darling, I'm finding your screams very trying. It might be better for both of us if your mouth was sealed. I have the loveliest gag."
"No, I beg of you. It frightens me. Please don't gag me and I'll promise not to scream."
"Well, that's a concession," Natasha conceded grandly. "I think you're softening up a bit. As a reward I'll forget the gag for a moment. I'll be really sweet and use a different whip."
Dawn tensed. She could no longer believe in anything getting better, it would always get worse and worse. She was now forced to contemplate the little whip of several thongs and to guess what tender places they might land on. So frightened she became that she even considered asking for the tapered thong from the kiss of whip her bottom already burned. But Miss Dawn Ryker knew herself in the grip of a force she could not influence. Natasha would do as Natasha pleased, and she shuttered as she was told, "The boys opened you up beautifully the way they've got you tied. You're almost doing the splits. And I want you to consider if my little whip doesn't do something else to you besides hurt. Pain and pleasure can be closely mixed, you know, and this is where you're going to find out." Natasha laughed gleefully. "The nice thing about the way I've got you tied for this punishment is that I can stand eye to eye with you in the front and whip you most efficiently, or I can step around you and get pretty much the same result back there. We really are two very lucky girls."
Natasha was right, the new pain was different as the mistress stood in front of the nude girl to sweep the shorter whip up inside the waiting cleft, its thongs splaying apart to encompass her sex. She tried but could not close her legs to protect that tender target. Dawn fought her screams and failed. Her sexual parts burned and ached. The pain was like nothing she had ever felt and was something she wished she would never feel again. Screams of pain dashed from her lips, mixed with screams of anger over the harsh treatment she was sure she did not deserve. Finally she calmed her screaming until they turned into gasps and moans. Then she had to stand there, legs wide and inviting, to await the second stroke of how many she did not know.
The second stroke was as bad as the first. The third found skin untouched by the others and inflicted fresh pain. She jerked and tugged at the cords binding her in the obscene X until the ropes almost tore the flesh from her wrists and ankles.
With tight lipped determination as she held her protests in, she withstood five more strokes, letting vent only to a scream as the whip impacted soft flesh. She did not ask for mercy, she did not beg for the whipping to stop. But as die strokes continued, relentless and merciless, alternating between the back and front of her but all sweeping upward to lash her sex, Dawn began to sob and to plead until Natasha cheerfully agreed that perhaps she had had enough for now and it was time to return to the taper whip with its venomous single thong. She took her time in making the exchange and not before her palm once more attested Dawn's response to pain was making the girl react in unexpected ways.
While the thongs had been punishing her crotch, Dawn had admittedly felt the compulsions of her flesh. There was no denying the vicious thongs had made her horny which she saw as only one embarrassment and shame. Carnality and punishment seemed strange bed fellows but her flesh was betraying her to both. She exclaimed savagely, "You've got me excited and there's nothing anyone is going to do about it, least of all me. Natasha, please don't whip me any more."
"Don't be silly, darling, of course I'm going to whip you some more. But from what you're telling me I'm wondering if I shouldn't continue with the little whip until you pop with an orgasm. I think you're pretty close. Want me to continue?"
"No!"
"Very well, you sulky little so and so. But you'd better not change your mind when I start the fresh series with that single thong. You'll just have to put up with it for as many strokes as I decide. And the number is something you'll not know until it's over. Wouldn't you like to kiss my lovely whip?"
"No!"
"All right. I must say you've got a lot of spunk and I do hope you're learning something from this. You must understand I'm not doing what I'm doing solely for my own enjoyment. Consider it a part of your training."
"I would rather not consider it a part of anything. Oh, Natasha, please don't start whipping me again."
It was not only the little whip of several thongs which could sear within Dawn's sex. Unexpectedly and shockingly from the rear the single thong landed a vicious snap across and above her navel to leave a wicked mark and evoke a cry of pain from her lips. "What me to gag you, darling?"
"No, oh no! I am trying. Can't you see I'm trying. If only it didn't hurt so damned bad."
The next stroke was less painful but still a horrible experience for the girl who had never been whipped before. Dawn was weakening now, the struggles grew less and less as the strip of leather bit more and more until she wondered if there was any part of her bottom not branded. The bum and scold of her flesh was continuous, interrupted only briefly by each impact. Soon she hung half conscious in her bonds.
Satisfied with her work, Natasha cast aside the whip and clasp the nude girl in her arms to whisper again and again, "I'm so glad I didn't break you this time, darling. But sometime I will. Be sure to behave yourself in what we're going to do."
The well-whipped girl no longer cared much what they did. The relief of getting back her hands and arms was almost worth the agony. Natasha quickly clapped handcuffs upon deeply marked wrists. When the lovely ankles lost their cords, they were made captive by a single shackle of silver as had controlled Dawn for the last five days. In a great thankfulness that at least this punishment was over and done with, Dawn allowed herself to be led by a firm hand upon a bare arm towards the door. The links between her feet clinked joyously as she took her steps.
It was a bare stone room, well lit from a large barred window to one side. In the center stood a sliver cage which Dawn recognized as far too big for any bird and improbably for any beast. It was a girl-sized cage and as she was led towards it, she inquired the obvious, "Are you going to lock me in there, Natasha?"
"Of course, darling. Don't you think it's beautiful?"
"I suppose so, but it's awfully small."
"The better to hold you tight, darling. Don't be difficult, dear. When I open the door just walk inside like you were going home. It's plenty big for all you're going be doing. And see those lovely rugs and the pillow. Like I said, you're terribly lucky." There was the turning of a key and the swinging open of the barred door. And then the shameful, shackled steps delivering Dawn to a prison more bizarre than anything she had every dreamed of. She could not stand up in the cage, but nonetheless sank gratefully upon the rugs and watched as she was safely locked inside. The key was hung upon a nail on the far wall. There was a farewell kiss between the bars, a kiss in which she hated her response but which she actually enjoyed.
When Natasha had gone and slammed locked door the silence was terrible. But it was swiftly broken by the reappearance of the mistress who's eye immediately fixed upon Dawn's joined hands. "I absolutely forgot, darling, I told you you mustn't play with yourself and here I've left you every opportunity. Hold still while I change you around."
It was simply and easily done. One cuff was freed and then locked again behind Dawn's back. Most certainly she would not be playing with herself or doing much else. When Natasha was again gone, Dawn flung herself down upon the rugs and wept. The bum on her bottom and the scold in her private parts tormented her for a very long time.
CHAPTER THREE - HEATHER RYKER'S FIRST OWNER
It was hot and dark in the trunk and Heather found herself barely able to breath. There was a hole that her nose fitted through but her mouth was not only filled with a gag but covered with leather stretched tightly and laced. And the leather around her nose pressed in, restricting her ability to pull in the much needed air. Inside that discipline hood was complete darkness, not a trace of light, a hint of glow anywhere. She could feel her head beginning to sweat inside its leather prison and understood why a discipline hood was considered a punishment device. Even sounds were muffled in their transit through the leather to her ear, making the engine and highway sounds blend into a drone that rose and fell but never went away.
The cruelly bound girl experimented with the ropes on her arms and legs, a hopeless experimentation but one she felt she had to do. Besides there was not much else. Pulling and tugging obtained no slack in any rope, only increased the strain as her body tried fruitlessly to unfold itself from the hogtie. Concentrating with all she had, she let her fingers explore those ropes she could feel but no knots came within reach. With her heels pushed against her palms, she could hardly move her fingers and all she found was the ropes crushing her ankles together. She noted the way her flesh felt around the ropes, sort of budging at the edges, so tightly was the cotton cord cutting into her ankles. It didn't take much imagination for her to know that those ropes on her arms were also cutting into the flesh, perhaps even more than that little bit she could feel on her legs.
In a final flash of frustration she shook her body angrily. She wanted to wept but wisely realized that anything which would make her nose stuffy would also cut down her ability to breath. She forced herself to ignore the terrible frustration and concentrate upon analyzing her situation.
At least some of the questions of the prior night were now answered. She and Dawn were actually sold-to whom and for what purpose remained conjecture. But the solid fact remained that they had been tightly bound like parcels and shipped off in separate directions to unknown fates. Her first thought was not so much for what might happen to her but whether she would ever see her sister again. It somehow didn't seem to fit that they would be kidnapped and sold only to be released a few weeks or months later. There were entirely too many laws broken for them to be released. There only remained the possibility of a life of... What to call it Heather wasn't sure. The closest word that came to her mind was slavery, an archaic term not much used any longer but which seemed to fit this situation. And it was not a slavery such as the American South used to practice to provide cheap labor for it's fields of cotton, it would be an enforced sexual slavery, a complete owning and using of a woman's body for the most primitive purposes. There could be no other reason, she told herself. Why else was she kept naked? The only question left was who owned her body and how would he use it?
Time had little meaning, Heather's universe was now measured by droning noise and tiny shifts in the pain her body was experiencing. Her shoulders ached a little more or her hands grew a little more numb as her circulation struggled against the tight ropes. And she discovered something small but sharp was digging into her right breast, something she could not avoid because her body could not be moved. She had tried to roll on her side in search of comfort, however slight, but found that the shape of the trunk prevented it. As the miles passed Heather found that she could not even relax. If she tried to rest her head on the floor, the arch in her body and the pull on her shoulders kept her head from resting. She found the best she could do was place her forehead on the floor and gain a bit of relief for her neck muscles.
Once or twice the car seemed to stop and Heather tried to call out for help. But whatever noise that could evade the gag fell upon no human ears. She never heard the trunk lid open nor felt any refreshing cool air upon her sweaty naked body. The trip seemed to stretch on into infinity.
This was a terrible time for Heather, unlike anything else she had every experienced. It would have been easy to give in to hysterics but she fought that off. Under all the suffering there was a hard core of whatever it was that made Heather a unique person, whatever name you might wish to call it by. She knew without forming the words in her mind, knew on a deep level, that she would not give in easily, not succumb to the punishments inflicted upon her. Part of her silently vowed that she would overcome this enslavement of her body-not only overcome but somehow, someplace extract vengeance upon those who imprisoned her and her sister. She may have to bow low to escape pain that her captors could bring upon her but she would never surrender. Never! It was a comforting thought in its own way but was only a thought. The reality now was ropes and darkness and heat. And pain.
It may not have been sleep but suddenly Heather was aware that her body was being lifted and knew that she had not been aware of the stopping of the car nor the trunk being opened. Perhaps she had retreated into some sort of trance to help isolate her mind from the discomfort and pain. She had no idea how long she had been imprisoned in that trunk but it had been enough for her to loose feeling in her arms and legs, enough for her whole body to ache. Stabbing pains danced and darted along her back and neck as she was lifted from the car to be set down on a hard surface.
For a long time she was left alone, vaguely aware of sounds around her and perhaps movement of people. Then she was picked up again by two sets of hands and carried a distance, each step sending jolts of agony through her arms and shoulders. When she was at last set down it was on something soft she was ready to cry. It was one thing to have someone force sexual attention upon a girl, quite another to be treated like a package, ignored as a person. It would have been better to be raped, at least she would have felt like she was a person and not a parcel to be impersonally delivered.
Again she was left alone for a time, the crushing ropes still upon her limbs and the leather prison around her head. She heard no footsteps but suddenly a pair of hands were turning her body on its side. The unseen hands then explored her body, not with the heat of passion but like a prospective buyer running his hand over the seats of a new car. The fingers traced her curves, tickling her lightly in the process but evoking no giggles from behind the black mask. One breast was squeezed as if the unknown examiner wanted to test its resiliency. Heather made tiny moans through her nose, more of pleading than protest for the hands were gentle. She guessed they were a man's hands from the size and strength.
She was rolled back on her stomach and something hard placed around her neck. Then those fingers began working at the ropes holding her body bend double. Heather moaned as her. legs unfolded and cried when the ropes came off her arms. Both arms fell limply to the soft surface where she didn't even try to move them. Before the last rope was taken from her legs the returning circulation in her arms began a pins-and-needles sensation and tiny jabs of pain in her limbs.
It took a long time before her arms stopped aching and she could use them again. With slow careful movements she pushed her way to a sitting position only to suddenly be jerked to a halt by her neck. Exploring fingers found a chain leading to a stiff leather collar around her neck. They also found a padlock firmly shut upon the end of the chain and a metal ring in the collar.
With slow movements the naked girl explored her new environment, quickly coming to the conclusion that she was laying upon a bed with her neck chained to a ring in the wall at the head end. The bed was large and covered with a silky material. She encountered no one and the chain was only long enough to allow her a choice of positions on the bed but not to leave it. She could hear nothing and no more hands touched her naked body so she guessed she was alone. Unless her owner was standing off to one side, watching with amusement as she blindly explored her new world. With a small sense of wonderment her fingers felt the deep ridges where a few minutes before the ropes had been buried into the flesh of her arms and legs. Had the ropes really been that tight? It didn't take her long to find that the neck collar covered the knots of the laces on her discipline hood and her prying fingers could loosen none of them.
With a tiny feeling of gratefulness that her body was at least free of those cruel ropes, she spread her limbs on the bed, enjoying the relative freedom of being able to move arms and legs. But she knew that she was still very much a prisoner and that leaving the discipline hood on was probably just a reminder of that Prisoner or slavegirl, she told herself. When a girl is chained naked to a man's bed there can be little doubt what his intent is.
* * *
Someone sat on the bed and that motion awoke Heather from a light sleep. As hands took her head her own hands flew up to touch the male arms but were pushed away. Wisely she waited to see what would happen. There was the clicking of key in lock and the collar loosened. A minute later it was relocked firmly around her neck but with the laces of the discipline hood untied and pulled out. The leather prison was pealed off her head and Heather blinked at the light. The gag was unstrapped and removed from her mouth leaving her jaw aching and refusing to obey her. As her eyes slowly focused they found a man sitting by her. He was probably middle thirties, handsome in a rugged sort of way, dark haired and with deep eyes that were probably brown but looked almost black. He wore a look of amusement as he watched over Heather's attempt to get her jaw moving.
"How... how long?" Words came with difficulty from aching muscles and a dry mouth.
He glanced at his watch. "I'd say you were in the trunk of the car and that hogtie for about four hours." His voice held a nice resonance, like a trained radio announcer. "And another two hours on the bed here. You actually took a nap, you know." Heather saw a large class ring on his finger and realized this was the same man who had stopped her from trying for escape during the auction.
He looked mostly into her eyes while he talked to her but she knew he was well aware of her nakedness and had gazed at every curve on her. She tried to fight the urge to cover her breasts with her arms. It would have seemed a bit foolish considering this is the man who had been running his hands over her body a while before. She was sure it had been this man. Instead she put both hands behind her and leaned back with her head held upright. Her breasts stood out proudly which she made no attempt to minimize. She didn't want to look like she was teasing him with her body nor offering it, but she didn't want to look as afraid as she really was.
"And you?" she asked.
"You can call me Brian. I suppose I should make you call me 'Master' but that does seem a bit pretentious. But make no mistake about one thing," he added with a sharp edge to his voice, "you are my property, bought and paid for. I'll do with you as I wish."
There was an unspoken challenge, as if he were giving her an opportunity right up front to show rebellion. Heather almost protested that such was illegal but thought better of it. He knew that many laws had been broken to bring her to this status, laying naked an chained upon his bed. She did not debate his claim of ownership openly but inwardly she felt anger.
"And what do you plan to do to your-what do you call me?"
He laughed. "You've spirit-good! As to what to call you, well, property may be correct but not glamorous enough. I like the term 'slavegirl,' don't you?"
"No."
"Good! Then it's settled, when you or I want to refer to your status, we'll call you a slavegirl." He grinned at her and she realized that he was a truly handsome man. Under different circumstances she would have smiled back at the real warmth she felt from his smile. But now that was hardly possible.
"You'll be taken care of, of course," he continued as if lecturing students "You'll not want for food or drink, or the common necessities of life."
"Like freedom?" she interjected with a sarcastic tone.
"Please don't interrupt. I was about to get to the punishments." He paused a moment to see if she had any more to say then continued. "Of course, as a slavegirl, your body is completely free for me to use whenever and however I chose." His voice stressed the "However" but Heather was not sure what special meaning he was conveying. "And, also of course, you will be punished when you disobey. I believe that covers the main points. Details will come in due time as you become used to your position. What do you think of that?"
Heather sensed that he was not being polite in that last question. Was he giving her a chance go be insolent? So she could be punished? She decided the best path was to be half way honest but no insolent. "I don't like it," she said but without heat. "A girl should not be kept as a slave, like an animal."
"On the contrary, most women should definitely be kept as slavegirls, always chained or roped up, punished for the slightest disobedience to their masters, used for any imaginable sexual pleasure of those masters. Without consideration of her own pleasures," he added, as if teasing her. "That should be the natural state of womankind."
She sensed no real hatred of women in his voice and wondered how much she was being put on. Was he teasing her? Baiting her? If he was trying to provoke her into an angry response, he had almost succeeded. Heather was willing to be submissive to a male, but only to a male she respected, and not one who had bought her. And only in bed.
"I've heard such theories," she said coolly but under control. "Along with other equally incorrect ones."
He laughed. "You're also smart! Great! We'll have some fun training you to be a good little slavegirl." He smiled very warmly and sincerely at her.
Under different circumstances, if this man were her lover and this talk of obedience and submission merely verbal sparring, a teasing after the lovemaking, she would have enjoyed playing along. Maybe even play the submissive role for a while. But this was all too real, the rope marks still fresh and deep upon her flesh, the memory of pain all too recent.
"I suppose I don't have to say that I don't want to be a slavegirl?" she offered.
"Don't worry, no slavegirl wants to at first. But there are ways to train a girl."
She didn't like his style of trailing off his sentences and in that way hinting at things she didn't want to contemplate.
"You mean punishment?" she ventured, not really wanting to open this subject for discussion but feeling that he did and would force it out into the open anyway.
"Of course," he replied evenly. "It is the right, no the responsibility, of all masters to keep their slavegirls properly obedient and submissive. And what better way than to apply punishment? I'm sure a beautiful woman like you has never felt the kiss of the whip."
"What!" she cried. "You're not serious!"
"The kiss of the whip, as I was saying. Of course there are other ways to punish a disobedient slavegirl, hanging by her thumbs, the rack, the branding irons, being staked out on an anthill, and others."
"You can't be serious!"
"Well, maybe not totally," he said with a grin after dropping the dramatic tone. "I really don't have an anthill."
"But you do have a rack? And branding irons?"
"I can get them." He smiled and she knew she was being teased. But suddenly he dropped the smile. "I may not use some of those traditional ways, but don't think I won't punish you when you deserve it. Or when I just feel like it-that's the nature of being a slavegirl. There are very simple ways of punishing a girl. Did you like that trip here in the trunk?" Heather's reply froze in her throat. The dark, heat and pain were too recent to not affect her.
"I could hang you up by your thumbs, you know. You have to be careful not to do any damage but it is simple and very effective. And you don't have to have a special whip to lash a girl's bottom. I man's belt makes a very good whip-I know, I've used it many times." Now he wasn't teasing or bragging, Heather sensed that he was simply stating the truth. "I could tie you very tightly into a hogtie like when you came in here and leave your for the day. And there are clothespins for your nipples and.
"Enough! I get the idea. So, okay, I'll be a good little slavegirl." Heather hated using his term for her but this talk was cracking her shell. The visions his statements evoked made her shudder. She didn't know what it would be like to be in a hogtie all day or to have clothespins clamped upon her nipples, but she had some idea and didn't want any part of it. "I'd love to be your little slavegirl," she said even though her true feelings couldn't have been more opposite.
"Now my little slavegirl, let's not lie to your master," he waggled an admonishing finger at her. "I can tell when you're lying. Truth is you'd love to get up and run from this house as fast as you could. And as for what you'd like to do to me, I can get some hint of that in your eyes. Which are beautiful, by the way. Just don't make the mistake of thinking you can pretend to be an obedient slavegirl, I'll know when you're lying." Heather didn't dare say a thing. This Brian didn't seem too cruel but she was certain that he could be mean if she pushed him too far. "All right, I don't like the idea and wished I was far away from here," she said with a sigh.
"That's better. I may be owning you for a long time and it's best that we get off on the right foot. I'd think there was something seriously wrong with you if you wanted to be a slavegirl right off."
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Where am I?" she asked, climbing to her knees but having to stay near the wall because her chain was rather short. She felt better on her knees, that brought her face nearer the level of his. "That was a long trip in that trunk."
"The exact location isn't important, let's just say it's someplace in the Southwest. This is my house, custom built and very far from the nearest neighbors. I wanted it that way. I have a few servants, none of whom will help you escape, mark that, and little contact with the outside world. But don't worry about escape. I'll keep you always in chains or rope bondage. You'll not have an chance to escape." He went to a dresser and extracted a pair of shinning steel handcuffs from a drawer. "Put your hands out."
Heather meekly obeyed, mostly out of fear. That chain around her neck made her very much a prisoner and fighting this larger, stronger male just didn't seem practical. At least he wasn't binding her with rope. The handcuffs clicked on and her wrists were linked only a couple of inches apart. She stared at the handcuffs before her eyes. They were oddly pretty, both shinning and functional, and she had never seen a pair up close before. Brian unlocked the padlock at her collar and removed it to leave it laying on the pillow, a reminder that it could easily be put back on.
He smiled at her. "You look good in chains. By the way, what's your name? Mr. Ed didn't know."
She hesitated but saw no reason to lie. "Heather," she said. Brian didn't seem interested in asking for a last name to go along with that first. "Pretty," was his only comment. He walked to a door and opened it. "Bathroom," he said simply with a wave of his hand. "I expect you'd like to use it?"
"Oh, yes!" Heather slid from the silk bed covering. He noted her automatic movement to cover her pubic area with the linked hands. "Don't worry about covering yourself," he chuckled, "your whole body is mine now and I'll look at any part of it I wish. I'll return before dinner." Suddenly he was gone out another door.
Heather made for the bathroom as it was, indeed, much needed. But not long afterward she again emerged to explore this room while she could still move around. There were three doors, one to the bathroom, one the door Brian had gone out and which was now locked, and a third on the other side of the room. It proved to be a closet but completely lacking in clothes. Instead there were some metal rings bolted firmly in the walls and a bar that went across the closet above her head. It resembled a normal clothes bar but-was made of metal and much higher that any clothes bar she had ever seen. She closed the closet and turned her attention to the dresser, the only other piece of furniture in the room besides the bed. The first draw revealed half a dozen pairs of woman's panties, the bikini type, skinny and showing off a woman's charms off more than hiding them. All pairs were black and lacy. A second draw held three pairs of shoes, all black patent leather with very high heels. Heather picked up a pair in disbelief. The heels were at least five inches long, more than she had ever seen in a woman's shoe. Two pairs were pretty much normal shoes but the third pair had a section that went up the heel and ended in a thin strap that would buckle around the ankle.
The third drawer held another pair of handcuffs identical to the ones she wore and another pair that were slightly larger with about six inches of links between them. After a second's puzzlement it dawned on her that the larger pair would make a good pair of leg irons when attached to her ankles. She would hardly be able to walk with them on and her ankles would be very securely attached to each other. The forth drawer held a selections of ropes, mostly cotton clothesline, in varying lengths, all coiled up into balls and laying in neat rows. She closed that draw without touching the ropes.
There was only one window in the room and she went to it. She found the handle and turned the blinds open to be greeted by a blinding bright sun reflecting off whitewashed walls. When her eyes grew used to the sun she could make out that the house was very large and shaped like a square with a courtyard. Her window overlooked the courtyard from the second story and iron bars on the outside told her that escape via that means was impossible. The courtyard was filled with cool, green plants and trees and looked like an oasis. Beyond the house she could catch only a glimpse of rocky hills, desolate under the desert sun.
Leaving the blinds open for whatever sense of freedom she could gather from the open window, Heather returned to the bathroom. It had it's own window, but that was small and high up on the wall. But there was a luxurious bath and she quickly decided to make use of it to wash away the sweat and grim. A girl doesn't stay too clean while bound up in the hot trunk of a car. It was surprisingly easy to learn to do things with joined hands and soon she was submerged in scented water. She made it a long bath and included a good shampoo. By the time she was finished she felt better and looked far better. For the first time in a long while she had time to think without being pressured by painful bondage or creeps like that Mr. Ed. She had discarded the notion that she and Dawn were kidnapped for ransom and knew it simply to be that they were in the wrong place. Any other pretty girls would have done as well. Perhaps they had not even been looking for two, perhaps one girl would have satisfied them. She also discarded the idea that rescue would come quickly. A little reflection showed her that it would be quite possible for a wealthy man to keep a girl prisoner indefinitely prisoner.
Heather was not a stupid girl, nor was she one of those girls who ignored the fact that they had any mind and reacted emotionally to everything. She didn't like this situation but she recognized that her options were limited. And that it would be important for this Brian to like her. She was aware that a beautiful woman could twist a man around her little finger and, although she had never tied that, it was a part of woman's nature. And it would certainly benefit her for this man to fall in love with her. It might be the only way for her to escape slavery. She bushed her hair carefully and wished she had some of her clothes to make herself more beautiful. When Brian cautiously opened the door he found a Heather dressed in a pair of the bikini panties and high heel shoes. She had even practiced walking around and around the room on those ridiculously high heels so she would not look clumsy. She was standing by the bed, frozen as if in mid movement but actually in what she thought was a pose to show off her figure to the best Brian smiled in delight. "I see you found the clothes," he said.
"What there was of them. I don't suppose I could have some more?"
"No, that's enough for you now. Ready for dinner?" He offered his arm and she took it with a smile she hoped didn't appear false.
* * *
Dinner was superb. There were several courses including lobster as the main course. There was a light, fruity wine to compliment the meal and a delicious desert made from lightly browned coconut over vanilla ice cream with a liqueur poured over both. Heather might have enjoyed the meal more had she not been busy learning how to eat with hands joined in front of her and being more than a little conscious of her bare breasts standing out. Although she did not catch Brian eyeing those breasts directly she was sure that he was as aware of them as she was. She hoped she was not blushing but couldn't be sure. It was oddly more embarrassing to be almost naked at the dinner table then it had been to be totally naked and on display for a roomful of men.
The meal was served by a teenage girl who represented the finest in dark-haired beauty that the land of Mexico could produce. Her smile was warm and pleasant, and her manner indicated that she didn't see anything unusual in a nearly naked and handcuffed girl eating with the owner of the house. Brian, for his part, was a very fine host, leading the conversation, pouring the wine, and trying to make Heather feel as if she were a welcome guest. Over the final glass of wine she questioned him about that.
"Is this the way slaves are treated? I would have thought a simple meal served in their cells or whatever would be more appropriate."
"You are not a common field slave," he replied after a moment's thought. "You are a slavegirl more in the sense of a harem. I find it to my liking to treat you pleasantly tonight for I understand that the last two days have brought many painful changes in your life. In the future I will perhaps feed you dog food in a tin plate on the floor of your cage and watch you lap it up while your hands are tied behind your back."
Heather raised one eyebrow as if in disbelief but inside she wasn't sure that the described meal might not come tomorrow night. This Brian seemed capable of being very friendly but there was a hardness underneath the polite exterior.
"And what activities have you planned for the rest of the evening?" she asked with studied indifference she certainly did not feel inside.
"Oh, a little lesson in obedience, and then...."
"And then...?"
"Perhaps I shall rape you. But, to be honest, I don't like that term."
"I don't either, it's such a crude act."
"Oh, I wasn't referring to the act being crude. I was referring to implication that to perform sexual intercourse upon your body would not be my right. It most certainly is my right."
Heather bit off any reply. To his way of looking at it, sex with his slave was no more than riding a newly purchased motorcycle. She forced a smile as she said, "I would think that a gentleman would not have to rely upon brute force."
"Who said I was a gentleman? I've broken at least one law by buying you, probably several others by holding you against your will. Would a gentleman do that? No, appealing to my civilized side will get you no where."
The subject dropped because there seemed to be nothing more to say about it. Heather was surprised to find the evening included brandy in a lounge with a magnificent view of the desert as the sunset painted a riot of reds, oranges and pinks upon the western sky. For a long time neither spoke.
"I don't suppose there's any way I can persuade you to free me? I have considerable money?"
"I have all I want."
"Except for the ride here in that trunk, you've been rather the gentleman. Could I simply ask you to set me free? Needless to say, I won't tell anyone." For a long time he did not reply. He seemed to be considering his response carefully. "Please?" continued Heather. "You could have me dropped off in some city far from here. You can even bind me and keep me blindfolded so I won't even know where this house is myself."
He reply was simply to take the brandy from her hand and lead her from the room. The room that she had come to think of as hers was lit softly by candles someone had placed there while she was gone. Brian took her hands and unlocked the handcuffs with a small key kept on his key ring. For the first time since her car was forced off the road, Heather was totally free. The idea of kicking this man and running flashed into her mind.
"You wouldn't get beyond the end of the corridor. I have a man waiting in case you try it," he said casually. "And I doubt you could disable me, especially with my being on the watch for it."
He threw some ropes from the drawer on the bed. Then he took her hands and wrapped rope around them. He cinched the rope down with several strands running counter to the others and on top of them, leaving the free end and a couple of feet of rope dangling down. He lead her to the bed and motioned for her to lay down. Heather's heart of beating fast and her mouth was dry. What did he plan? Some of that punishment he mentioned, perhaps. The rape, surely. He would rely upon ropes to hold her down so brute force would not be necessary. Heather did not understand the feeling of relief that she felt until she realized that rape is better when you're completely tied up and helpless. Then there's no question of guilt at not having fought harder or being able to do something to prevent the act.
But when he rolled her over on her stomach and positioned her in the middle of the bed, she was puzzled. Why on her stomach? The rope from her wrists was passed up to the wall and the metal ring that her neck chain had been locked to that afternoon. Then she felt her ankles being pulled together and rope wrapping around them. When they were cinched down her whole body was pulled by the ankles until her arms were stretched out taut and raised off the bed as they pointed straight towards the ring. Her ankle rope was tied somewhere at the bottom of the bed, leaving her stretched out and feeling very helpless. She could imagine no possible way of performing the sex upon a girl tied down this way which left the lesson in obedience he mentioned. She strained to look around at him.
Brian had taken his shirt off and was pulling the belt from his pants slowly. Heather gulped at that sight and knew what was coming.
'Tonight's lesson will be simple, all you have to do is describe the act of sexual intercourse in at least five vulgar and graphic terms. I will be the judge as to whether the terms are vulgar enough and graphic enough. Understand?"
"I would rather not do that," Heather answered honestly. She had always hated crude language.
"I think you will. I just hope you, with your cultured upbringing, will know five vulgar terms."
"And if I don't?" she asked hopelessly.
Her answer was a burst of fire across her bottom. She yelped and jerked her whole body tense. The unexpected blow burned her flesh. She remembered the hand of her father spanking her bare bottom but this was a hundred times worse than that! "Hey, don't do that! That hurts!"
"That is the idea," Brian explained sweetly. "Now, about those descriptive term?"
"Screw! That's one."
"Not much of one but I'll accept it. Another."
"I don't know any others!"
The second blow came from the other side and light a new fire upon her tender skin. Heather cried out but did not ask for mercy. "I don't know any others," was her only comment.
"Then you're going to have a very sore bottom," he chuckled. "I'm sure you know several others and I'm going to warm your bottom up until you've said them out loud. Ready?"
Before she could answer the belt descended again and fresh fire exploded in her bottom. "Please, I really don't know any other terms for it! I've always called it lovemaking!"
"I don't doubt that but I'm sure you've heard a few others. How about that famous one beginning with the letter 'F' and lasting only four letters?"
"Oh, that one. I can't say that! I've never said that in my life!"
Again the belt lashed across her flesh and again her whole body jerked. "Please! Stop it!" Another stroke and she was crying but thinking furiously. "Bang! That's one."
"Okay. Rather mild but acceptable."
It took three more strokes of the leather belt before Heather could no longer hold it inside, "Fuck! Damn it, I said fuck!"
"Yes, you did, and that counts as number three. Any others?"
"Ram. I think that's one," she blurted out, any resolve to withstand his punishment her bottom at an end. "I don't know any others."
It took a few more slashes of the belt before he believed that she really didn't know any others. He returned the belt to his pants and sat down beside her. "Boy, you've got a red bottom," he commented. "There may be some bruising, too, but mostly it looks burned." He traced lines on the crimson skin as Heather cried softly into the bedspread.
"You're a bastard," she said softly.
"Yeah, ma and pa didn't have the license fee so they just started living together."
He untied her ankles but left her wrists tied to the wall. "It's not bleeding, is it?" she asked.
"Of course not. It would take a hell of a lot more than a belt to break the skin," he replied in the tone of one who knows his business. "But you're going to be a bit sore sitting down for a few days." Then he turned her over on her back. She gasped a bit when her bottom came in contact with the bed. Quickly he looped a rope around each ankle and spread them wide. Each end was tied to a comer for the bed and pulled tight so she was wide spread and quite stretched out again. She had not fought this crude positioning of her open sex because she thought it would do no good and she was more than a little afraid of this man. She wanted some sarcastic comment to make about the coming act but nothing came to her. Instead she simply lay back her head as much as she could with her arms stretched up behind her. She could hear the zipper of his pants and sense when he mounted the bed. She prepared herself for a quick, hard mounting and climax by the man.
Instead he began with her breasts, tenderly touching them, teasing the nipples, squeezing gently those nearly perfect mounds she had been blessed with. At first Heather closed her eyes and resolved not to react to his touch. If rape be his goal, she certainly wasn't going to add to the shame by becoming sexually aroused herself. But that is exactly what happened. Perhaps it was the beating of her bottom, perhaps simply the gentle teasing of her body, more likely both. But respond she did, slowly at first, then growing with surprising speed until desire was filling her entire body.
Had he been rough, or simply pushed his rampant rod into her for a quick climax for him and no satisfaction for her, she would have felt shamed and used, the victim of a cruel and sadist act. But it was not like that. His hands were gentle and knew where to tease a woman's body, where the nerves were, and what hidden switches would turn a woman on. Even with part of her wanting to resist, to not enjoy, not protest sex without permission, her luscious body responded as had female bodies through the eons.
Heather Ryker was no virgin. But she had never had sex while tied with wide spread legs upon silk sheets. And she had never experienced the strange pain that the contact between punished flesh and silk sheets generated in her bottom. It was pain but it was so much more. It excited her, filled her with longing for male attention.
And Brian was no amateur. With an expertise born from long experience, he built up the fires within until this naked woman was panting and gasping. Soon her back was arched to push her large breasts against his hands as he kneaded them. When he touched her sex, she gasped and jerked her hips forward. By the time he had teased her clit by gently stroking it with fingertips, Heather Ryker was deep into lust and not thinking rationally. She bit her lip to keep from calling out for the thrust of male rod inside her. Even in her deep need, she would not beg for what she so desperately wanted.
As the candlelight flickered against the walls of her prison, Brian entered his slavegirl and she cried out with the intense pleasure of it.
CHAPTER FOUR - TEARS AND TRAINING
Dawn Ryker came to know her cage all too well. She was thankful enough to sleep throughout the first night but with the new day she was not taken back to the familiar bedroom but left to amuse herself as best she could with shackled feet and handcuffed wrists. The scorch of sexual demand had diminished with the night and now all she longed for was human companionship. But, better still, escape. Fastened as she was escape seemed only a pretty dream. But in the matter of companionship the caged girl got a surprise. Instead of Natasha or the man she called the guards, the opening of the door revealed a girl pretty much her own age and most as naked with no more than a triangle covering her pubic hair. The girl was pretty and well formed and walked with the ease of long practice with the silver shackles upon her ankles. She grinned cheerfully as she put down a tray and began to hand its content through the bars.
"My name is Stephanie," she said brightly. "I'm not allowed to let you out of the cage but would you like to get your hands free so you can feed yourself?"
"Can you really unlock my hands?" Dawn was startled.
"Sure I can but you have to promise to let me lock them again after breakfast. We can do things easily through the bars. If you don't want to make promises I can easily feed you." Stephanie's cheerfulness was infectious. Without a qualm, the captive of the cage backed up to the bars to make her joined hands available to the key. When they were free she massaged them gratefully. Having her hands back seemed too good to be true. But along with Dawn's gratitude came Stephanie's explanation, "Don't ask me to set you free because I absolutely won't. I'm a prisoner the same as you but I behave myself the way our mistress wants. Then she lets me run around with just my feet chained. I've been here so long I don't think I'd want to leave even if I had the chance. Natasha's wonderful in bed and in the first few months I was here I tried to escape so often and got whipped so much, and a whole lot of other things beside, that I don't want to ever be punished again. And I'm going to make sure I'm not." She gave Dawn a good look. "Gosh, girl, you've been whipped something awful! You must have given her lip." The youthful glance became anxious. "You didn't manage to hit or kick her, did you?"
"I never go the chance."
"Yes, I know. Natasha keeps a girl chained or tied all the time until she's sure of her. You only got yourself kidnapped a few days ago so I don't suppose you can be trusted." Stephanie smiled encouragement. "But she kept you here the same as she kept me so that's got to be good. She likes you: Or are you one of the rebellious ones she loves to break?"
Dawn gazed through the bars. "I suppose I'm the rebellious type," she admitted ruefully. "I just can't bring myself to do the things she wants. This business about kneeling at her feet and calling her mistress. And then to she wanted me to kiss the whip before she used it on me. These things just aren't for me."
"They aren't for any of us at first but we soon learn." Stephanie pushed food and hot coffee through the bars. "I suppose the best thing is to get yourself sold immediately. You don't know what you'll wind up with but if a girl is going to buck our mistress at every turn, she will be sorry she wasn't sold. Be sensible, sweetheart, stop fighting."
"I can't, I just can't! Stephanie, what's going to happen to me?"
Natasha will simply break you one way or the other. It may take a long time and you'll get a lot more marks like the ones you've got now but she's got a lot of ways and a lot of time. She used some of them on me at first until I got wise and surrendered. Believe me, Dawn, in this place a girl simply can't win."
Dawn munched and sipped in a grateful recognition of hunger. She also thought aloud. "But if you wanted to escape and your only restraint was those shackles upon your ankles, I don't see why you couldn't just walk away. I know you'd have to walk slowly but I expect there's some sort of road nearby where you'd find help."
"Oh, sure," Stephanie scoffed. "Think about it a minute. You're naked and your feet are chained together so you can't run. So you get out on a highway and stand there naked and wait for something nice to happen. But the nice people will drive right by you. It's the bikers and the bums who will pick you up. Or maybe the police who will run you in for indecent exposure. They'll probably throw you in the country nut house. No thanks, I prefer Natasha."
Dawn could see herself naked upon a highway in the glare of headlights. The wrong people stopping would be very bad, they would simply take her and do as they pleased with her nakedness. Maybe Stephanie was right. She turned her mind to less horrible thoughts. "What will Natasha do to me next? Will it be today?"
"She's away on business today. That's another reason why I can't let you out of the cage, you and I are alone and I don't want a battle on my hands."
"But what about those two big bruisers who kidnapped me? I thought they were on the staff?"
"Sometimes they're here, sometimes they're out roaming around, looking for sweet young girls to kidnap."
"What's the idea of that Mr. Ed thing? Why does Natasha dress as a man?"
"I've never found out and I've never asked. She wears man's clothes when she's on business but whenever there's only girls in the house or she is dealing with a girl alone she strips naked." Stephanie giggled. "Maybe it's so she gets a free swing with her arm-those thin, tight suits she wears must be binding! But, of course, it also makes it more convenient for both when a girl's told to do a bit of muff-diving." Stephanie sighed. "Gosh, I held out against doing that for so damned long until I couldn't take it any more. Then I knew I was beat so I got down on my knees and buried my face in her sex. I think she was surprised." Stephanie paused a moment to think. "She had me handcuffed at the time, that's all, I wasn't fastened to anything so I was able to do what I was thinking was impossible. I simply discovered that when a girl is hurting enough it isn't impossible anymore. Now I like doing it. Sometimes Natasha will reward me the same way. It's not all bad here, you know. Cheer up."
Miss Dawn Ryker was horrified. "You mean you've been forced into lesbian acts? That doesn't sound very nice."
"It isn't so bad, darling. After a while you'll find that girls really can be fun. Even Natasha." Once more Stephanie sighed. "I wish she weren't so tall. It's not that she's so bad looking but she makes me feel a child. In case you ever get notions, let me tell you that she can fight pretty well. Her strength is shocking and she knows a lot of tricks. Gosh, that's a beautiful strip you've got across your breast."
Breakfast over and the coffee gone, the two girls gazed at each other through the bars. Stephanie held up the handcuffs to ask, "You won't be silly about this, will you?"
"What would happen if I refused to give you my hands," Dawn inquired mischievously.
"Nothing would happen. You just stay locked inside the cage until our mistress returned. And then I'd have to tell her why you're not handcuffed. You'd be terribly punished."
"You mean you'd snitch no me?"
"You can call it that but all I'd be doing is saving our skins and making our punishment as light as possible." Stephanie grinned woefully. "You see, I'd be punished, too, for letting it happen. But not nearly as bad as you."
"It's so lovely having my hands like this. It's been so nice talking to your over breakfast. Must I really be handcuffed right away?"
"Don't try and fox me," Stephanie's voice was suddenly sharp and anxious. "We made a deal and you'd be wise to stick to it. I want to be your friend. But I must remember the rules. Come along, sweetheart, let me have your hands."
Dawn shrugged. It was all hopeless and useless, and Stephanie's insistence was bitterly disappointing. But locked inside a silver cage, with silver shackles upon her feet, Dawn knew herself in no position to argue. With a shrug, she backed against the bars and placed her hands for Stephanie's convenience. There was the usual cold steel as two metal jaws closed tight upon a pair of innocent wrists. And once more Dawn Ryker had lost her hands. She turned and said, "Am I really handcuffed behind my back so I can't play with myself? That's what Natasha said."
"That's the main reason. But having her hands locked behind her back really softens a girl up in a way she would never believe." Stephanie snickered. "I've sure you've noticed that?"
Dawn had noticed it all too well and stood still within the cage silently contemplating her helplessness long after Stephanie had gone. Oddly, she did find herself wanting to touch her private parts, to make the long hours a little shorter with some erotic play. But since Dawn had rarely done such an act, she had to also wonder if perhaps the knowledge that she couldn't do it made it ail that much more attractive. Perhaps it was better to have her hands locked securely away from such a source of temptation. She would just die of embarrassment if someone walked in and found her playing with herself.
But just the same it was outrageously frustrating and, after only an hour or so, once again she contorted in twists and turns to try and reach her finger to the place desired. She could get close but never close enough. Reluctantly she conceded the fact of total helplessness. She fell back against the rugs and faced a boring day.
In the time to come, Stephanie was a delight, making Dawn's imprisonment as pleasant as she could within the limits of Natasha's rules. It was on the third day of Dawn's imprisonment within the silver bars that the laughing girl took the key from it's place upon the wall and opened the cage door. This invitation to freedom fell a trifle flat to due to Dawn still being controlled by handcuffed wrists and shackled ankles. But she clinked her way out of the cell and looked at her jailer inquiringly.
"I'll bet you have something up your sleeve," she accused. "Is Natasha back?"
"Yes, she's back. She'll get around to you in a while. In the meantime there's something she wants me to do with you."
Trivial as the exercise might be, Dawn's spirits rose with dainty, controlled steps beside her jailer to the room which held no pleasant memories. The posts had disappeared but in their place was a massive construction of heavy timber which the chained girl felt certain would bode ill for her.
"You sit on this bench, sweetheart," said Stephanie as though conferring privilege. "I'm going to unlock your leg irons. Aren't you lucky."
Dawn's good lucky was open to question. Her feet had no sooner been freed of metal than she was directed to place her ankles within waiting holes in the heavy oak. Since she was still handcuffed to helplessness, she shrugged and did as she was told to watch dismally as Stephanie lowered the upper half of the stocks to impose a frightening helplessness upon slender ankles now tightly encased within the solid oak. She shifted unhappily upon the bench and wondered how long she would have to endure this new confinement. Stephanie scarcely paused but snapped shut the heavy padlock which insured Dawn sitting were she was. But moments her handcuffs were removed, leaving her to massage chaffed wrists. Now that her feet were firmly held, she caught a glimpse of one more facet of punishment the hateful machine could easily impose. Stephanie's voice bubbled with cheerfulness. "Now your hands, sweetheart. Please don't be silly and make a fuss. They go here."
Dawn could see the circles waiting for her wrists. They were in front of her face and close enough so she would not have to lean forward. She had never been more helpless in her life. She shrugged and fitted her wrists within the slots. The yoke was lowered and another padlock snapped. Dawn was now firmly locked within a strange contraption. Questioningly she met her jailer's eye.
"You just have to sit like that, honey," Stephanie offered. "If doesn't hurt, does it? You'd best be grateful, sweetheart, anytime something doesn't hurt. I know I used to be. You'll only hurt if you tug and twist, and then it will be your own fault."
"But, Stephanie, I'll held so tight. And I can't even scratch my nose. I'm not sure I'm going to like this."
"You're not suppose to like it, stupid! But you're going to have to sit in it quite a while. I'll come when I can and cheer you up. But I expect you'll be seeing Natasha more than me. Natasha's back home and I think there's another kidnapping on the way." For the first minutes after Stephanie had departed, the girl now held captive by the cunningly fashioned oaken beams was inclined to view her predicament with amusement. It didn't hurt and, as Stephanie had said, this was the big thing in the life of any prisoner. She simply sat with arms and legs outstretched and firmly held to enjoy a limited view of arms and legs running up to the wrists and ankles then disappearing. She flexed fingers and toes and found both in working order but out of sight. She noted how the two sets of stocks had been built so the holes for wrists and ankles were not just circles but were sufficiently out of round to fit both wrist and ankle snuggled as a glove. Perhaps most girls were the same size but this structure seem tailored for her. She tried to move but achieved only a shaking of her shoulders. For this day her bottom would not be moving from its wooden seat.
It was probably less than an hour when Dawn realized this new imprisonment was not a harmless as it seemed. Here and there bits of her started to ache and the bits started to intensify into what came close to pain. Bleakly she surveyed the hours and the day and realized how much she could be hurting and how vocal she would then become in pleading for realize. And that was a fault which might easily lead to being painfully gagged or worse. She tried to settle down to weight but she became more and more discontented with her plight. When Stephanie finally reappeared, the tight-clamped captive had much to say.
"Stephanie, you said this wouldn't hurt but it's turning into agony. I can't move, I can't do anything. It's torture!"
"That's right, dear, it's suppose to be."
"But how long do I have to sit like this?"
"Goodness knows, dear, but you have to be patient. Rome wasn't built in a day and Natasha's going to want to have a look at you. I wish you could see yourself, you're sweet."
"I'm not sweet. I'll bet I look horrible. Please let me loose for just ten minutes. I promise I'll be good and let you lock me up again. "
"Don't be silly," Stephanie admonished crossly. "I won't come and visit you anymore if all you're going to do is make demands. Would you like me to whip you while you're waiting?"
The captive girl snorted in disgust. Stephanie was a darling but would never bend or break the rules. Unhappily, Dawn exclaimed, "If you'd every sat in this thing, you'd know how awful it is. Really, Stephanie, darling, I can't possibly endure it all day."
"I have sat in it, Dawn, and you probably will sit there all day. The same as I had to long ago. And you're right about it getting worse all the time. I almost had to laugh over how happy you were when I left you here. Would you like me to give you an orgasm?"
"No thank you, I'm sure it's against the rules."
"I'll leave you to it then," Stephanie said casually, bending to kiss two willing lips. "Bye, bye for now and don't hurt yourself struggling."
It seemed impossible that Stephanie could have come and gone. Dawn fought back an impulse to fight, to vent frustration upon wrists and ankles. That was silly. She occupied some time by striving to prefect muscles motions to ease her aches and pains. But she could not move much and that was what she really needed. If one were to seek something funny in her predicament, it would be the twin cheeks of her bottom which had now become numb. She tried rocking back and forth but achieved nothing. The hateful thing in which she was fastened had been well designed.
The mistress came before noon, sauntering into the awful chamber as if on a casual errand. Once more Natasha was naked but the cigarette in its long holder pointed in one direction or another like a pistol. Her trill of approval was instant, "You look too sweet for words in those stocks, darling. Did you enjoy the cage?"
"No I didn't. And I'm not enjoying this, either." Her young voice was sulky with injustice.
"Well, I'll put you in there again so you'll have another chance. And this nice arrangement you're in now takes a bit of getting used to. One day you may actually love to sit the way you are now. Though I'll admit it is a bit unkind to whipped bottoms."
"Please, Natasha, get me out of this thing. Let me loose."
"Don't tell me you're ready to kneel! That's really what you're telling me, isn't it?"
Dawn bit her lip in vexation. With this woman she could never win. She retorted, "You know damned well that's not what I mean. Can't you be kind for a change."
"Wasn't I kind in providing you with that lovely silver cage? I don't see how you could possibly hurt in there, all those lovely rugs and cushions. I'm beginning to think you're an ungrateful young woman."
"I'm sorry, I suppose you're right," Dawn admitted reluctantly. "The cage was just a bore without a single thing to do. But it didn't hurt."
The mistress found a chair and seated herself with the best possible view of the young woman seated in the stocks. Making herself comfortable, she broached a different subject.
"I don't care how long it takes me to break you, dear. In fact, I hope you'll be your stubborn self so I can train you a long time. But there's no reason why I shouldn't get some value out of you along the way. I don't suppose you would be adverse to doing a few painless chores?"
"You mean washing dishes and scrubbing floors?" Dawn rejoined sulkily. "No thanks."
Natasha laughed. "You see what I mean, darling, your thinking is negative. What I have in mind, darling, is delightfully social. And you'll have complete freedom of choice as to whether you play along or sit as you are. I'm talking about tomorrow, not today."
"Social!" Dawn twisted uneasily. "You'd never dare take me to a party, I'd escape."
There was more laughter. Dawn was a treasure; sulky, spirited and delightfully rebellious. "It's far more simple, darling," Natasha said gently, "from time to time there'll be just one person drop in for tea of coffee of a drink. And it would please me to display you in nudity and chains. You only task would be pleasant conversation and good behavior. As in not asking any of them to call the police or help you escape. You will behave as if the condition they find you in is the most natural one in the world."
"Naked and handcuffed! I'd die!"
"You know you won't. You'll probably enjoy the females, they're lot's of fun."
Dawn tensed. "You mean they're not all women!" she demanded. "Don't tell me you want to exhibit me to men!"
"Of course, dear, they'll enjoy you immensely. Don't give me that line about no man every seeing you naked."
It was on the tip of her tongue to angrily refute Natasha's demand but the awful immobility of the stocks cautioned wisdom. Where there were people there might be hope. And she would no worse off naked and chained in the presence of half a dozen then she was Natasha alone. True, it would be humiliating and demeaning and this might be her mistress's revenge for her refusal to submit and give in to total obedience. But humiliation was implicit in everything now done to her, why not take a chance!
"This good behavior bit, how do I qualify?"
"If the guest wants to talk about horse racing, you talk about horse racing. If the guest wants to discuss your tits, you politely do the same. You won't call the guest an asshole, and you'll stay away from sarcasm. It's easy, I'm offering you a real good deal."
"And if I refuse?"
"Darling, don't be silly. But if you have to be ridiculous then you'll go on sitting in that delightful contraption that holds you now. I might even think of one or two other little refinements to add to the discomfort. Like clipping your nipples or using the riding crop on the soles of your feet. They're nicely positioned for that, in case you haven't noticed."
It was cruel and so damned unfair. Dawn Ryker knew she actually had no choice. A girl would have to be an idiot to sit in the torture she was now enduring in preference to a social tea fill of females or even a man. Dawn swallowed bitter words and sarcasms to mutter dismally, "Well, okay, Natasha, I'll do what you want or at least try to. If I blow it, it will be your fault not mine."
"It will be yours, darling, regardless." The voice of authority was silky soft. "You must keep that in the front of your mind the whole time. Spending the day the way you are will leave a vivid impression in your mind of what to expect if you don't behave."
"I'll be sensible, I hate this thing." The young voice became pathetic. "But since we've just made a deal couldn't you let me out sooner? Like right now?"
"No."
"I'm hurting and I'm tired."
"We're going to stop talking about your aches and pains," the mistress said. "And there's nothing else to discuss about your social activities. I'd like you to tell me about your previous life before you were lucky enough to be kidnapped. And we won't talk about that sister of yours. I've no idea what is being done to her right now and don't care. I expect she's a shrewd little so-and-so, who will soon get tired of being whipped and will learn to behave. You'd best forget Heather, she's gone."
When the silence and the loneliness returned and Natasha was gone, the girl still firmly in the grip of oaken timbers shed a few tears of self-pity which she brushed away on a bare arm. She forbid herself to think more of the hours and hours she must remain sitting in the clamped punishment. What she must do was think of tomorrow with its promise of human contact and perhaps human sympathy. If only those who beheld her chained nakedness would help... Perhaps...
As she sat motionless, curiosity bubbled in her mind and she began to weave fantasies about those to whom Natasha would exhibit a prized possession. Obviously the visitors would share the mistress' delight in girls undergoing corrections and restraint. The captive girl dreamed on and as she dreamed some magic of the human condition eased the pains of punishment. When Dawn was finally freed it was a reversal of a familiar process. First the handcuffing of the freed wrists, followed by the shackling of the slender ankles. There had never been a moment when some restraint was not upon her and therefore never a moment when fighting might have paid off. A giggling Stephanie guessed her longing and made certain it would not be exercised. Standing naked in the control of silver links, the captive maiden was simply thankful to be free of the wooden contraption. Thankfully she followed where Stephanie led.
Dawn had expected that the silver cage but when bedtime came was led instead to the bedroom of the mistress of that crazy place. When freed of fetters she was bound mischievously and most securely by cord and rope with which Stephanie was more than competent. Once more Dawn was frustrated by restrictions that held her wrists crossed behind her back. She gathered she was to spend the night with Natasha with her hands out of the way that she might not fight with her mistress.
Dawn was tired and aching from her day in the stocks but managed the tart retort, "If it means I have to be tied this tight, I'd rather be put back inside the cage. Of, Stephanie, I'm so sick of being tied and chained." There came a little pause before she added, "You're kidding about sleeping with her Highness? Aren't you?"
"No kidding. Our Mistress has ordered that you be tightly trussed before being inserted under the covers. By the way, don't ever let her hear you calling her what you did. That's considered insubordination, a punishable offense. That would get you back in the stocks for the night."
"Good gosh, is that damned wooden monster to rule by life? Haven't you got something else to frighten me with?"
"Sure, there's lots of things, the rack and pillory and the hoist and horse." Her tone was mischievous. "But those stocks don't hurt you, that is they don't do any damage, and you seem to hate them so bad that Natasha's picked up the idea that there the ideal way to make you behave. Roll over on your tummy."
"You mean there's more to this than the way I'm already tied!" Dawn was indignant.
"Yes, dear, we can't have you hopping around the room. Just lay still while I complete your control. You're going to look so damned cute." Dawn recognized the hogtie before she was half complete. Under Stephanie's strong young hands the already bound feet were drawn up as the tied hands were tugged down to bend their owner backward in a bow. Inch by inch this one final rope was made to do its work until Dawn squealed in protest, "For Pete's sake stop, you'll break my back! I can't move! This is awful!"
Deft fingers completed knots and drew them tight. With the suppleness of youth Dawn's feet and hands had actually passed each other. Dawn wiggled unhappily to exclaim again, "You've tied me so I can't move. Don't be mean. You surely don't intend me to stay like this all night!"
"It's not me, it's our Mistress, Dawn dear. Try and go asleep. Natasha won't be up for quite a while." Stephanie sighed happily. "No matter how I have to fasten you, you always look so terribly sweet. You look that way now. After I've gone you can flop over. Our Mistress will probably rearrange you when she comes to bed. Goodnight, sweetheart, pleasant dreams."
Once more frustration. Dawn felt positive there was something she could have done or said while Stephanie was still there. But apart of begging for mercy she could think of nothing she could have used. She now sought to explore Stephanie's work and hopefully find a flaw. But the job was perfect and wiggling brought instant pain to wrists and ankles. The response of the rope was like Stephanie's distant voice telling her to be sensible and go to sleep. Wondering if she could ever wiggle herself back into position, Dawn allowed herself to flop over to one side in a search for comfort. But there was no comfort to be found. There was no escape, there never would be escape from either Stephanie nor Natasha. They could handle her as easily as if she were a child. And since her limbs would never be without some kind of bond, the freedom she dreamt of would never been hers. Once more Dawn shed a few tears which she dried upon the pillow before falling into unexpected sleep. It had been a hard day for a captive girl. Dawn could not tell how long she slept but was awakened to find her mistress gazing down at her bound up nakedness with an affectionate eye. "Stephanie really did a job on you, darling," she said with evident satisfaction. "She's a wonderful girl and we're lucky to have her. I expect you're hurting?"
"Yes."
"Well, don't say it like that. Aren't you going to beg me to untie you?"
"I don't think it would do any good. But it's cruel to keep me like this."
"You went to sleep so it can't be too bad."
"It is, it is! Oh, Natasha, I was in those beastly stocks all day and now this for all night!"
"You mean you'd like to kneel on the rug now?"
"No, that isn't what I mean at all. What I mean is I'm asking you not to leave me like this all night. If I can't sleep, I'm not going to be much good to you tomorrow." The bound girl delivered an accusing stare.
Surprisingly the mistress tugged away at the knots joining wrists to ankles and, as the legs opened up and their owner sighed in ecstasy, said sharply, "There, is that better?"
"Oh, yes, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"There's a quite practical way of thanking me, darling. I suppose you've done a bit of muff diving in your young life?"
So this was it: the confrontation! The joy of being able to stretch full length withered on the vine of an impossible demand. "I suppose you'll punish me for saying this," Dawn said slowly and reluctantly, "but, no, I never did such a thing and I'm not going to do it now. Please don't put me back in that awful thing downstairs." Dawn was lying and hoped that Natasha would not be able to tell. Truth was she had explored lesbian sex with a couple of girlfriends and it was something she could take or leave. But the idea of doing it with this terrible woman who had kidnapped her and tortured her was repulsive.
"I suppose you would prefer the rack or pillory?"
"I don't know anything about such awful things. I just hope you will be kind to me. I'm grateful for getting rid of that rope which bent me backwards."
"I could tie it back in place."
"All I can do is ask you not to. I'm sorry."
Strangely the mistress allowed the subject to drop. This time Natasha was attired as a female and, as she stripped the flimsy coverings away, the bound girl on the bed acknowledged the loveliness of a tall girl. Natasha might be five years old then Dawn but not much more.
"I suppose I should put a rope on you somewhere to hold you to the bed, darling, but I'm tired and can't be bothered. If you decided to hop around during the night, you'll wake me up and earn yourself a punishment. Be sensible and lay beneath the covers besides me like a good girl. If you can handle it, both of us can sleep breast to breast. I'd like that and you ought to like it, too."
That was the way it was.
It was Stephanie who prepared the prisoner for her afternoon, explaining there were no deadlines to that which lay ahead. From somewhere she produced simple feminine garments, beautiful and costly enough to for Dawn appreciate. Never were her hands or feet entirely free of shackles and she had expected that. Leg irons and handcuffs were becoming a uniform. A bath, hair-do and touch up with cosmetics returned Dawn to the beautiful young woman that she was before all this rough treatment. She thanked Stephanie with a kiss.
Suddenly she exclaimed, "But, Stephanie dear, I thought I had to be naked? I thought that was the name of the game?"
"You'll be naked soon enough, so don't worry. In the meantime enjoy what I've done for you. You're absolutely stunning. I wish I were as beautiful."
Miss Dawn Ryker fought for composure. The clothes were unexpected and lovely but her chains were puzzling. Stephanie confided that she was to be confined in nothing more than handcuffs and these were to be worn in front and not in back. Stephanie told her sagely that handcuffs were a most important part of the whole procedure, mainly because they impose upon the wearer a false sense of freedom. Any girl with hands cuffed in front possess a good deal of freedom when her feet bare no irons. Dawn could not stop wondering if indeed the situation did not harbor possibilities of escape. With Stephanie present she dared do nothing but surely the afternoon offered possibilities?
Cheerfully she played with the chrome bracelets which now seemed like costume jewelry than a restriction. Stephanie guessed her thoughts and offered, "Don't get carried away, sweetheart. Try and remember yesterday and try and remember you could sit like that for a week if you play the fool. There will probably be times when you'll be tempted to make a quick sprint but don't do it. Believe me, even if you were totally free and not even handcuffed you wouldn't have a hope of getting away. Be a good girl and behave."
Dawn said that she would be good. She remembered the previous day just as she remembered the painfully tight hogtie she had endured the night before. She said she never wanted punishments like that again. But, just the same, way back in the comer of her mind...
Mavis Selby was in her thirties, obviously had money, and possessed a pair of discerning eyes. She had been busily talking to Natasha but paused to survey the newcomer when Stephanie's urgent hand propelled Dawn into the lounge. "You're a beautiful girl," she said bluntly. "You can call me Mavis and I'll call you Dawn." The introductions summarily dealt with, Miss Selby turned to resume her conversation, leaving Dawn feeling foolish and quite certain the woman had not even noticed the handcuffs on her wrists. But in this she was wrong.
"So this is another of your pretty prisoners," the visitor said to her hostess. "Damn it, Natasha, I don't know where you pick them up. I've been wanting to be kidnapped for the last fifteen years and no one's even made a pass." She sniffed. "And I'm not that bad a package when you get me stripped."
"I'm sure I could arrange something," Natasha hinted with a chuckle.
"Wouldn't be the same. I'd want the whole thing done properly. Do you think this charming child would like to tell me how it happened with her?"
"She's not that much of a child, Mavis. And the way she came into my possession was not the least bit romantic. It was frightening and painful. Wasn't that right, Dawn?"
The handcuffed maiden agreed and blushingly tried to hide chained hands.
"Don't worry about those handcuffs Natasha's put on you," Mavis laughed. "I've seen them before and I find them all together charming. You were them like expensive bracelets." Turning to the hostess, "I suppose the poor girl's been whipped half to death?" "Of course she had, She's beautifully marked. Those whippings and a few other punitive experiences are the reason she's so well behaved today. Her feet aren't fastened so she could run if she wanted to."
Natasha's tone became quietly possessive. "But you don't think it wise, do you darling?"
"I'm not going to try and fun away," Dawn said flatly. "Would you like me to get the tea things?"
"I'd rather you took those clothes off," Mavis said. "Natasha, dear, do please have the girl strip for me, I want to see her marks."
"Gosh, Mavis, have a bit of patience," Natasha said crossly. "She's already been instructed to serve tea with her clothes on. She wears them beautifully so I'd like her clothed for at least a little while." She turned to Dawn, "You know what to do, darling, so run along."
She knew what to do. It had all been carefully planned so that Stephanie was waiting in the passage with the trolley. Dawn took it back into the lounge. She felt silly and foolish and out of place. To be respectively clothed but handcuffed and made to wait upon others was a new experience for this daughter of wealthy parents. Mavis Selby was a bit frightening but Dawn could not put her finger on just why. Dawn sighed and hoped she would not spill a drop of hot tea when she tried to pour with handcuffed wrists.
But she smiled at the conversing couple as she lifted the teapot with shackled hands. Once started on her task, she discovered it easier than she had supposed. When done, she wheeled the trolley back to Stephanie who assured her the ordeal was far from over.
Natasha and her guest were talking in animated conversation. But when Dawn returned to stand before them, Mavis Selby lost no time. "I want to see your breasts, dear," she said in the manner of asking to examine some holiday snapshots. "Stand a step closer and show them to me one at a time."
Once more it was the unexpected. Dawn looked questioningly at her owner to receive a nod of approval. Instinctively her linked hands rose to cover the treasures she had been told to bare. But she told herself not to be silly, Mavis was just another girl. While the revelation of her breasts seemed somehow indecent and obscene, it seemed silly to demur when she was sure her nakedness would be total in a matter of minutes. Dawn fumbled at fastenings to reveal the firm, young curves with an erect nipple.
"It's a beauty," Mavis affirmed breathlessly. "I knew it would be. Damn it, Natasha, you have all the luck." She looked up at the shamed and humiliated captive. "Put that one away and show me the other. I'm sure you're proud of both of them."
Exposure burned the innocent breasts as their owner was compelled to stand and exhibit first one and then the other. Dawn was willing to believe the interest of Mavis Selby was sincere and prompted by artistic appreciation. But she felt shamed and blushed enough to evoke laughter from both other girls. The whip mark across a naked breast drew favorable comment.
Mavis Selby appeared to be a connoisseur of punished young ladies. Miss Dawn Ryker had no sooner hidden her breasts from view than she received the inevitable command.
'Take off your clothes, dear. If the rest is a good as your breasts, it's well worth seeing."
Natasha confirmed the order with a brief nod. No longer concerned, Dawn slipped out of as much covering as she could with handcuffed hands. She held out her hands to her mistress with an eyebrow raised in question.
"She wants those handcuffs off," Mavis said. "It won't do any harm, will it Natasha? To let her have her hands?"
"She may do something foolish. She'll be totally free."
"I think that will be fun. We can punish her afterwards. It's a good idea to have a sound reason for punishing these girls. They reaction much more logically when they know they've misbehaved."
Dawn once more felt foolish with her lower half exposed to view while the rest of her was clothed. Swiftly she consider the possibility of flight when her hands were freed and came up short. These two would be alert for a move and apparently felt confident they could handle it. And then she would be punished. She listened as they discussed the merits of removing the metal bracelets from her wrist, then felt she had scored heavily when she said a demure thank you after the key freed her hands. When she was naked under watchful eyes, Dawn extended both bare hands to once more be chained.
"She's the most glorious female I've ever seen," Mavis Selby breathed over the loveliness revealed. "Good gosh, you really did whip the poor dear, didn't you! Turn slowly around, Dawn, I want to see the best places."
The captive maiden had forgotten her whip marks but it now appeared they would draw more attention than her curves. Overcome by admiration, Mavis rose and made her own personal exploration of punished skin, lovingly tracing the purple lines across curve and hollow. She even ordered Dawn to lift one leg and then the other that she might better see those marks almost hidden. It was a shaming exposure to Dawn. Mavis was delighted by every mark disclosed as well as by Dawn's shame in offering to view those feminine portions of herself. When the inspection was finally over and Mavis Selby had resumed her seat, Natasha's guest said in firm decision, "I'll buy her from you. Name your price."
"She's not for sale, Mavis. But the boys tell me they've got some fresh material in view. You can buy one of those."
"I want this girl, there's something about her that grabs me." Natasha laughed. "You don't want Dawn at all, darling. What you're excited about are those whip marks. But you can easily put some on the girl you buy. This one is mine."
"Don't be mean. With all the girls you handle, Natasha, this one can't be all that important. You'll still have Stephanie. You can whip her tomorrow and mark her up the same way. Goodness, Natasha, you don't realize how fortunate you are."
Mavis turned an excited eye towards a trembling Dawn. "You'd like to belong to me, wouldn't you? I could punish you and we would have such fun."
The naked girl knew herself on dangerous ground. "I belong to Natasha," she pointed out reasonably. "I don't have anything about being sold."
The bargain became a laughing battle of wills with neither female yielding an inch of her position. Disbelieving that anyone could want her body so badly to offer that huge sums she heard, Dawn was nonetheless aware of the freedom of her limbs. At a moment when both her owner and would-be owner were busily in thrust and parry, she slipped silently from the room and down the hall.
Dawn had been held so closely captive she knew nothing about the house. But hallways usually led someplace and she sped forward without thought of consequences, knowing herself as free of bonds as she was ever likely to be in this place. There might never be another chance. When she reached what was obviously the big front door, she was forced to fumble with locks before it swung open.
She felt something and looked down to find her ankle noosed in rope. The other end of the rope was in the hands of a smiling young woman standing on some steps behind her. Before she could recover her wits she found herself laying on the hard floor with her right foot held up at a distance she could not reach.
"You shouldn't have done this, sweetheart," said Stephanie sweetly. "And I'm not the bitch you think I am for doing this. Natasha figured you'd make a break for it and told me to stand here with this bit of rope. Do you want to fight, darling?"
Dawn could think of only two things: the terrible punishment that was sure to come, and that Stephanie's feet where chained. Stephanie held the rope but could not move as fast as Dawn. How could she use that to gain freedom? Dawn fought.
It was the strangest of battles between two girls and the outcome was never in doubt. A girl naked on stone steps who's foot was held at an elevation beyond reach could not get a chance to use her superior speed. Stephanie clinked her way over with a smile on her face. Dawn could cry. Her heroic resistance was useless. Which ever way Dawn turned she could not get her ankle free.
Stephanie threaded the rope through the huge, ornate knocker on the door and drew Dawn's foot higher until it rested only on her shoulders with arms waving furiously but uselessly. Finishing a neat knot, Stephanie gazed down in sorry. "I suppose you'll hate me forever," she said, unhappily. "But you could never escape. You couldn't climb the walls and you couldn't go through the gate because there's someone there. If I were you I would be very humble and apologetic. You've got yourself in a spot and you may as well make your punishment as light as possible." Stephanie made a small gesture with her hand. "I'll leave you like this a few minutes while I tell our Mistress. You'll soon be handcuffed again."
It was absurd to be held captive by one ankle. She looked up to where the rope was biting deeply. As usually everything was helpless and hopeless. In desperation she fought anew but could only turn and twist, and even though she could get up on one foot but she could not reach the tether by which she was held. She was still vainly struggling when the older girls appeared.
"Well, just look what we've got here," Mavis said cheerfully. "You look terribly uncomfortable, darling."
"Not half as uncomfortable as she's going to," Natasha said sourly. "I told you she wasn't trained. I've a good mind to leave her like this for an hour or two, she looks ridiculous."
"Nice view of her pussy. Our whipped little sweetheart isn't looking the least bit happy."
Dawn looked at the handcuffs in despair. They were, of course, inevitable. But once locked on her wrists they spelled doom. Having performed her task, Stephanie had finished and it was these two girls she would have to deal with. Miserably she caught Natasha's eye to mumble in defeat, "I'm terribly sorry, I've acted like an absolute idiot. But I suppose I've learned some sort of lesson."
"That's right, darling, and you'll learn another before too long. Turn over and put your hands behind your back."
There was nothing to do. Dawn completed the awkward move and, in total defeat, surrendered her wrists. The clicks and snaps were instant and the bit of metal sent shivers up and down the lovely nakedness. The rope was lowered and untied and laughingly loop around her neck. In this fashion Dawn was led back to the lounge.
They made a mock trial out of it with Natasha as the prosecutor and Mavis, without much sincerity, playing the defense. The naked girl was forced to stand and listen to the deciding of her fate. When she was declared guilty beyond any reasonable doubt, Mavis joined the prosecution in an earnest discussion as to sentencing and the mode of punishment to be employed. Standing helplessly with her hands secured by handcuffs behind her back she listened to the pros and cons and the vivid descriptions of unmentionable penalties. All of them frightened her to the point where her final sentence came almost as a relief. Since she had used her feet in trying to flee, the soles of each would receive twenty strokes from the limber riding crop. Natasha pointed out that it was the most appropriate of punishments and far less than she deserved. Mavis inquired anxiously if Dawn consider her punishment as just and if she was accepting her guilt and its penalty in the proper spirit for a captive girl. By this time the captive girl was ready to scream but limited herself to saying that, yes, she agreed with the guilty verdict but only guilty of trying to run away from an illegal imprisonment. She affirmed her belief that she should not be punished at all for so natural an act. And would the two of them think again before making the punishment effective.
Dawn faced a shocked silence and accusing eyes. Agreement was instant that this impertinence deserved an additional five strokes on each of her feet. She was told the sentence would be carried out on the following morning and that in the meantime she must strive to be bright and cheerful. They even went so far as to tell her that she would be expected to entertain them with lively conversation.
CHAPTER FIVE - HOT SEX
The desert air was burning hot and the sun a blistering white glare in the deep blue sky. Heather Ryker placed one foot in front of the other, trying not to stumble and wishing she could shade her eyes from the oppressive glare. But there was little she could do as her options had shrunk to zero, a state that seemed to now be the norm for her life. She was almost naked as she walked along behind the chestnut bay, her clothing allowance this day being one rather skimpy black bikini bottom with no top. Her large breasts stood out proudly, aided in their effort by the binding of her arms behind her back, elbows touching. She hated being bound with her elbows touching, it was painful and she hated the way it made her throw her breasts out. But she had to admit that it was a good way to control a girl, to make her feel every bit a prisoner and flush her mind of thoughts of rebellion and escape. Even if she could run away, what could she do with her arms bound painfully tight behind her?
Upon her feet were a pair of high heel shoes, a standard part of the uniform when her owner, Brian, was around. He claimed it made her legs look much better and insisted she wear them, even to bed. That sounded a little kinky to Heather, but when compared to keeping a girl a prisoner and in some form of bondage twenty-four hours a day, every day, what is a little kinky footwear?
The rope looped around her neck with a noose and leading up to the saddle horn completed her bondage and dress. The rope was not tight unless she lagged behind the horse then it tightened threateningly around her neck. It was just long enough to force her to follow about ten paces behind the swishing horse's tail.
They had left the white house at mid morning, her master not telling her where they were going on her first passage outside the walls of the big adobe house. She was simply dressed and bound and lead out to the back of the house and the waiting horse. Since Heather had seen no signs of horses or stables around the house, she assumed he had rented or borrowed the horse for this trip. At first she had been excited by the idea of going outside. Outside meant she would not be hidden behind thick walls. It meant she might be seen by someone, anyone. But her hopes slowly died. The land behind the house was desert, desert and more desert. They had not even crossed a dirt road. She quickly realized there was no one out there to see her in her naked and bound up condition.
It seemed they had traveled miles but Heather was pretty certain it was not yet noon when Brian halted and descended from the saddle. He hitched the reins to a cactus and untied the noose from Heather's neck. Turning his back to her, he extracted a small blanket from the saddle bag and spread it on the ground. For a few moments Heather sensed more freedom then she had in days. She was not inside the house. Her legs were free to run. And he was not even looking at her. But that hope quickly died as reality set in. She would never be able to run as fast as he while wearing high heels and with her arms bound behind her back. But most important, where would she go? She thought she knew which way the house was but which way was freedom? She might wander around that desert for days without finding a soul.
Brian grinned at her as he took some bags from the other saddle bag. "Go ahead," he said cheerfully. "Wander around if you want. But don't get lost. It's a long way to anywhere." Heather sighed. "Could I be untied?" she asked with little hope.
"Not right now," he replied as if it had been the most reasonable question. "I like you tied that way."
"So I notice," she replied with only a slight a hint of sarcasm. Every night for the last ten days she had been taken to bed by this male. And seven of those ten nights her arms had been tied behind her like this. It had not been the most pleasant position to be laying on her bound arms while he rammed away with that more than adequate rod, but compared it the other three nights it was acceptable.
The fourth night of her captivity she had been hogtied on the bed for an hour or so when Brian came in. He had a handful of metal rings with screwed shafts. Two were driven into the baseboard on one wall of her room. The other two were screwed into the wall by the ceiling. Then he released the naked girl from her captivity only to retie her immediately in a wide spread eagle against the wall. She had been forced to stand on a box so that when he tied her ankles spread wide to the bottom rings, she was completely suspended off the floor. The wall was hard against her back and her wrists and ankles hurt. Heather was afraid that perhaps she had angered him somehow and hanging like this all night was to be her punishment. But the punishment didn't last all night. A few minutes after she was strung up, Brian returned with his clothes missing and his rod at attention. She quickly found that she had been tied at just the right height for easy entrance of her sheath. Quickly she was being well and truly screwed.
The screwing lasted a long time, to the delight of both parties. When Heather came down from her sexual high, she found Brian resting on the bed and herself still spread-eagled on the wall. Fortunately he didn't leave her like that. All night would have been hell on her wrists. Instead he untied her and fixed her to the bed in her usual nighttime bondage. Her wrists were tied crossed behind her back and her ankles tied together, this time crossed. Then a leather collar was placed around her neck and padlocked via a fairly long chain to the metal ring bolted in the wall above her bed. She was learning to sleep bound that way and finding that it wasn't so bad.
The next night brought a return to the elbows-touching behind the back screwing. But the night after that saw her once again spread-eagle against the wall, this time upside down! She quickly found that the position was perfect for him to perform oral sex upon her upturned pussy, and for her to accept his rod in her mouth and return the favor. Brian was even enough of a gentleman to start the sucking and licking. After very little time Heather was so aroused that she automatically took his stiff rod in her mouth. There followed a most unusual mutual oral sex session, usually called "69ing." The pain in Heather's ankles and wrists only added to her excitement and when she hit her first orgasm it was a dilly. His tongue was relentless and as she hit her second orgasm less than two minutes later, he timed his to coincide.
He drove her into a third climax just for good measure. Sometime later she came back to earth to find that she had been untied and retied in the usual, comfortable position on her bed.
It was then that she began to like Brian.
The eighth night was the most painful one of all. Something was upsetting Brian and he took it out on his slavegirl. She was tied to those handy rings on the blank wall but this time face against the wall, her breasts flattened against the hard surface. Just when she was wondering how easy it would be for him to enter her in this position, her hair was grasped from behind and her head pulled back. A rubber ball gag was forced into her mouth and strapped tightly in place. A few seconds later she found out why the gag as it muffled the first of her screams.
He was only using his belt but to Heather it was creating burning pain in her ass. She cried out with as each stroke burned across her soft flesh. Her body jerked with-each cut and her bottom tensed each time she heard the swish of the belt.
A couple dozen strokes eased his anger and turned her bottom into a crimson blaze of mark, and left the naked girl sobbing with her gagged face turned against the wall. But her rough treatment was not over. In disbelief she felt her ass cheeks spread wide and a male rod pressing against the entrance to her anus. Suddenly it was inside, driving upward in what was to Heather the most unusual mixture of pain and strange sensation she had ever felt. One part of her cried out at the pain such a huge object rammed into her ass was causing while another part thrilled at the strangely sexual sensation. She was being screwed but it was a screwing like she had never experienced before.
Heather was still building up to a climax when Brian hit his and withdrew from her. In frustration and anger she thrust her hips against the wall with increasing fury until she reached a kind of orgasm herself. Then she lay panting and trembling in her bonds until he untied her and retied her in the nighttime position on her bed. After he left she cried herself to sleep that night after her unsatisfying orgasm. It was the first, and only, night as a captive to Brian that she had not had a very satisfying sexual fulfillment.
Heather came back to the present when Brian offered her a seat on the blanket. Awkwardly she sat down, wondering if he was going to feed that fried chicken to her himself. She certainly could not eat fried chicken with her arms bound that tightly behind her back.
But he did not feed the chicken to her. Instead he cut some into little pieces and put them on a plate before her. "Am I... T she asked, full well knowing the answer.
"Yap. Enjoy."
With a sigh, Heather leaned over to pick up the meat with her mouth. At least the chicken was delicious even if she had to eat it like a dog. He put a saucer of wine down for her. At first she balked at drinking like a dog but at the suggestion that she could be dragged back to the house rather than walk she gave in. At least she tried to sip it as daintily as she could.
Lunch wasn't too bad on the whole. Brian did not seem to take relish in her embarrassment and humiliation at having to eat doggy style. It was more that he saw no way he would feed her like a baby and since she couldn't eat normally with her hands bound behind her, she would just have to do it as best she could.
Lunch cleared away, Brian stood staring down at his captive girl and the empty blanket she sat upon. She looked up and saw a look in his eyes she had come to recognize. And why not, she told herself? If a man would spread-eagle a girl on the wall and screw her, even screw her in the rear, why wouldn't he screw her in the middle of the desert under a burning sun?
Heather wiggled down and lay upon her back. She spread her legs and wondered if she should hate herself for being so submissive. It was not that she was surrendering herself to this man. Not now. It was just that he would take her whether or not she helped and she might as well save some trouble. Inside, Heather was as resolute as ever that some day she would get free. Someday this man and that creepy Mr. Ed would pay for what they've done to her and her sister. Someday... But that day was not today and Heather arched up her hips while he pulled down her bikini bottom. He teased her breasts and stroked her beautiful body with his hands until arousal and he could feel the tension in her. Then he spread her legs and entered his captive. The desert sun was hot and when it was done they both lay panting and sweating on the blanket.
* * *
"It's quite simple," Brian was saying as he tightened down the last knot. "You were complaining of how hot the desert sun was so I decided to let you cool off a bit."
Heather didn't like the grin on his handsome features. It was times like this he seemed so much like a little boy, playing with a new toy. In this case his new toy was a naked woman, tightly trussed up into a ball and completely helpless. Her wrists had been crossed and tied behind her back. Then her legs were tied at the ankles and knees. A leather collar around her neck provided a base to anchor her knee ropes to her neck, doubling her up. Then her feet were pulled back down and tied with rope to her wrists. It was a tight little ball and she knew without even making an attempt that she would be unable to escape from it. It was just too tight. And her fingers were far from any knots. But worse was the fact that she couldn't move.
Usually bondage had some degree of freedom. There was some way you could move your legs or bend your body. Some bondage had even allowed her to stand and hop around the room or house. Some allowed a great deal of freedom but was still secure. Like when she was occasionally secured for the night by having one wrists locked to the ring in the wall above her bed. That one wrist had to stay put but the rest of her body was free to move as it pleased.
But this ball tie afforded none of that freedom. She could not unfold her body nor escape. She couldn't even crawl. Presently she was on her knees, forehead touching the floor in a bowed position perfectly appropriate to a slavegirl before her master. She knew that if she could unbalance herself and fall to one side that would be it. She would never regain the kneeling position. She even doubted she would be able to roll over. She would just lay there until some kind soul freed her.
One strong hand clamped onto the ropes connecting her ankles and wrists. The other hand grabbed the short length between her neck and knees, then she was picked up like a package. It was a strange feeling to be carried by her bondage, and more than a little painful. But she held in protest. Long experience over the last month or more had taught her protests are either ignored or earn her some form of punishment.
From her awkward position she could see the floor and part of a wall going by and generally had the impression that she was being carried to the kitchen. That was confirmed by the sight of Ramona, the main maid in this crazy house in the desert, holding open the door to the walk-in refrigerator, a sight which sent a shiver down her spine.
"Oh, Brian! I wasn't really that hot, honest! I like the desert sun! Oh, Brian, please!" But her protests were ignored. She was laid down on the wooden slat of the floor. "Brian, please! Oh, Master! Master!" Brian undoubtedly knew that Heather was desperate as she never called him master unless she was driven into it by pain or fear.
"Have a cool time," he cheerfully called out as he closed the door.
"Bastard!" she cried to the closed door.
She was on her side and a little experimentation proved what she had suspected: she could not even roll over. The closest she could get was a little rocking motion by pushing with her toes on the floor. But that did nothing.
The first five minutes weren't bad. She was aware of the cold air but it hadn't penetrated. The next five minutes were okay if a little shivery. The next five minutes were rather unpleasant as shivers racked her beautify body in accompaniment to curses utter with foggy breath. The next five minutes were downright miserable. Attempts at violent action were countered by the tight ropes and her body continued to lay there as she shivered and muttered about what she would do to that bastard when she someday got free. And she threw in a few good curses upon the head of that damned Mr. Ed, for good measure.
"What a beautiful shade of blue!"
Heather had not heard the opening of the door. But suddenly strong hands were picking her body up and carrying it from the tiny room. A few steps and she was put down next to the spa in the courtyard. Brian quickly tied a rope to the ropes from her neck to knees and then lowered her into the bubbling hot water, using the rope as a leash. It was tied so that her head and knees were held out of the water with the rest of her under the surface. It was hot and nerves all over her body screamed as it heated. Soon all the cold was gone and sweat bedewed her brow. Ten minutes passed before Brian returned.
"Hot enough for you?"
"Bastard." But Heather's voice held no conviction behind the word.
She realized that he never intended to do her harm, just make her uncomfortable at which he had succeeded.
"Probably. I never was sure if my parents were married before or after I was born. They wouldn't let me see the certificate."
Suddenly Heather found herself laughing loudly. Brian joined her in what must have been a strange sight. A fully clothed man standing over a naked and bound up girl in a spa.
"Why," she finally asked, "do you do these things to me?"
"Because you're you," was his simple answer. Then he kissed her gently on the forehead. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. It just seems right to keep you tied up and helpless all the time."
Heather found that she didn't have a reply for that. He reached into the water and teased her nipples a bit. Heather closed her eyes and moaned, and was surprised at how much it effected her. It was as if the freezing and then boiling of her body had been just the right stimulus to turn it on. She was instantly aroused and hot to trot.
In a second his clothes were off and he was joining her in the hot water. His hands exploring her body, teasing and stroking it, was incredibly erotic. Gasps came from the bound girl's lips, and despite being bound in a ball and suspended in bubbling hot water, she began thrusting her hips in an ancient and primitive instinct. One hand found its way between her folded double legs and worked its way up until the fingers could stroke her love bud, that tender and very sensitive part of her pussy with millions of nerves per square inch. She uttered a loud moan and thrust her head back as if trying to unfold her balled up body. The other male hand found a breast and squeezed hard. Suddenly she was jerking around as he played upon her nerves like a master musician. A half cry, half moan signaled the arrival of her first orgasm as her body went as tense as it could within its bonds.
He worked her up to three orgasms before she begged off a forth. Surprisingly Brian obeyed, pulling her out of the water and untying her, save for the crossed wrists behind her back. Then he picked her up and carried her back to her bedroom where he threw her upon the bed and leaped upon his slavegirl, spreading her legs wide and penetrating her sex almost in one motion. Suddenly he pumping her and she was building up again towards a forth orgasm. Heather could only moan and wrap her legs around his hips. Then she matched him thrust for thrust. And enjoyed.
* * *
Heather wondered what Dawn was doing right now. She was not doing much herself, a state enforced by a few strategically placed ropes and a wooden post. She sighed and tried for the hundred time to find a more comfortable position where none existed.
She was in the garden in the middle of the large white house. The whole house had been built in a square with the center open like a courtyard. Or garden, since Brian had planted much greenery and watered it with abandon to create an oasis in the middle of the desert. The morning sun fell on most of the courtyard but missed Headier. There was always some place of shadow and cool in that oasis because the two story house wrapped around it and protected it from the burning sun of the American Southwest. She was grateful for the shade for the air was already hot and she would have broiled in the direct sunlight. But she wondered if she would still be bound to this post when the afternoon brought the sun in from a different quarter.
It would have been a boring day but tolerable if she had just been bound with her back against the post and her wrists tied behind it. She had spent many hours in the garden tied like that. But this morning Brian, with a mischievous grin, had ordered her to lay on her back then wiggled up to the post. He picked up her legs and helped her until she was resting on her shoulders with the post holding her back up. Then he tied her ankles crossed with the post between her legs and her fate for this day was sealed. He also pulled her arms around the post and tied them crossed. The ropes did not hurt and neither did the position. Not at first. But a girl standing on her shoulders with her legs above her and wrapped around a post cannot stay comfortable for long. Mostly her neck hurt but there were muscles in her legs that were protesting. Experience told her that there would be more aching joints and muscles before the day was over.
Heather didn't really hate Brian even though she had every reason to. He was keeping her as a slavegirl and freely admitted that he never intended to grant her freedom. He used her body as he wished, often including the inflicting of pain, with little regard for her comfort or pleasure. Yet she did derive pleasure form his acts. He was a strange man, part sadist, part gentleman, part sex fiend, and almost part friend. Most of the time his sexual conquests of her body had also brought her to great climaxes, more intense than any she had ever felt before in her young life. At first she had told herself it was because of the fear she felt at being bound up helpless and at the mercy of a stranger. But slowly she came to understand that there was a part of her that responded to this treatment, that was excited by tight ropes on her limbs and body, even craved such harsh treatment. And that male rod of his inside her... ! She licked her lips at the remembrance of that. She would never admit it to Brian but he was the finest lover she had ever had by far.
At times the idea flittered across her mind to just settle back into this strange but exciting existence and go with the flow. Wasn't it an old saying that when rape is inevitable you should relax and enjoy it? Did that mean when slavery was inevitable you should relax and be a good slavegirl? Heather understood the attraction. There was something about being a woman that craved that sort of life. If she could ignore the veneer of civilization, forget the superficial teachings that claimed a woman must not be submissive, and get down to the primitive feelings, she found that she longed to be owned by a man. She really wanted to be possessed by a male, her body played with and toyed with my his male strength. Even the act of sex was a conquest of her feminine body by the stronger male. He literally penetrated her, not much different from driving a sword deep within the body of an enemy. And did she feel conquered when he finished!
She could understand those feelings. And gain pleasure from them. At times. But there was also the hard core inner self that cried out to be free. There was more to life than spending your days bound or chained like property and your nights screwing away until the late hours. She longed to walk through an art gallery, to dine at a quiet, intimate little French restaurant and sip wine. There was much more to life than bondage and sex. With a wry smile she admitted life wouldn't be much without it, either. And if she ever got out of here, she wondered what her sex life would be like. She doubted she could be happy with the pale, mild sex she had experienced with her few boyfriends. Hell, they were pantywaists compared to Brian. He simply took her when and where he wanted, the barbarian! He made her feel so deliciously helpless.
Again she sighed and shifted her arms a bit. Occasionally she could see or hear someone moving in the house, the staff cleaning or preparing lunch or whatever. But no one visited. She went back to her inner thoughts. There is one good thing about being a bound up slavegirl, it gave you plenty of time to think!
She might have had trouble working out her conflicting emotions about Brian, but she was sure about one thing. She would escape! One day, somehow there would be a mistake and she would be ready to move. She would get free, return to her life and freedom. And then she would set out to find Dawn. Somewhere out in that world beyond the white walls her little sister was being held a prisoner with god only knows what being done to her. She almost wept at the thought of poor Dawn suffering under the whip and being raped by ugly, strange men. Hatred flared within and she vowed that someone would pay for this. Right now there was only one target for that hatred, that effeminate little bastard, Mr. Ed! Heather passed many long hours dreaming of what she would do to that creep when she got her hands on his slender little body. She would start with shoving that ivory cigarette holder up his ass. Then she would get mean.
"What you thinking of?"
Brian's voice intruded upon her thoughts. She opened her eyes quickly to find him standing over her. "I was just thinking about what I'll do one day to that Mr. Ed," she answered honestly, trying to keep any of the hatred she felt out of her voice.
Brian laughed. It was a sincere laugh as if he truly found her wishes for revenge amusing. Perhaps he didn't like that creepy Mr. Ed either. "Dream away, but you'll probably never get your chance. Hell, I'll bet you don't even know where he lives?"
Heather bit her lip. It was all too true that her chances were awful slim. But she would find a way. Inside this lovely and naked girl was a hard knot of determination.
Brian's smile faded to a serious look. "I hope I never have to experience your vengeance," he said simply. "There's a lot of power inside you, a strength few people of either sex possess." Then he sighed. "I guess that's part of why I bought you. A challenge? Perhaps.
"Listen, I have to go to town and fly to LA. Business. Ramona will untie you for lunch and fix you in your room after that."
Heather felt an unexpected let down. "Will you be back tonight," she almost whispered.
"Not for a few days. Business." He frowned and Heather got the impression it was serious and unpleasant business. But then he grinned at her and offered, "I'll have Ramona come in at night and tie you to your bed then screw you with a huge dildo. That should keep your sex hormones under control, you little vixen."
Heather made a sour face but inside was wondering if he was serious. It would be shaming to have a maid satisfy your sex drive with a rubber replica of the male organ. But she was feeling homy today. And perhaps, without realizing it herself, had been looking forward to the usual nighttime bondage and sex.
Brian reached down and stroked the inside of her calf lightly, absent- mindedly. It sent tingles down to her spine. "I'll miss you, too, slavegirl." Heather found his pet name for her sent a shiver through her. "And I was going to take you outside and hang you upside down by your big toes from an Organ cactus. While Ramona whipped your breasts. And ants crawl all over you, eating that honey I poured over your body."
Suddenly Heather laughed. It took a second before she realized he was kidding her. At first she had been imagining herself naked and hanging against a cactus. After all, he had already done some pretty nasty things to her.
Suddenly he was gone and Heather was left to her thoughts again.
That night Ramona did tie Heather spread-eagle upon her bed. And she did screw Heather with a huge rubber dildo. It was a long, exciting and ultimately satisfying screwing. But it wasn't the same as being screwed by Brian. Heather would even had taken hanging from the cactus, if it included a good screwing by her owner.
* * *
Heather was tied down and driven into orgasm with the rubber phallus every night for five nights. Then Brian returned and she was happy, anticipating a return to human screwing. Not that Ramona wasn't good and enthusiastic in her efforts to bring Heather to satisfaction. And long- lasting. But there was something different about the human element, something that made sex with Brian much more satisfying, even if she was horribly and painfully bound at the time. He seemed to enjoy hanging her in different fashions from those rings in her wall, and screwing her to a fare-thee-well.
But the night of Brian's return brought only a half-hearted spanking and an hour hanging in a spread-eagle on the wall before Ramona came and let her down. Mr. Brian, she was told, was too tired to perform. Well, that was Heather's interpretation of the broken English and Spanish message given her. Her hands were tied behind her back and her neck chained to the wall ring over her bed by a leather collar. She was very sad that night.
The next day, after breakfast, Brian came marching into her room. He had a determined look on his face and a handful of ropes in his hands. A lump came to Heather's throat. Meekly she submitted to having her wrists tied behind her back but she was breathing heavily. As he pulled her elbows together to bind them tightly, she sighed. It hurt a little when he tied her arms thus and made her lay on her back while he screwed her. But it was also a good feeling even if she couldn't figure out why.
Then he sat her down on the edge of the bed and tied her ankles together. Well, she told herself, first some bondage then a screwing later. Her knees were also tied, then she was stood up. More rope was looped around her waist and arms, pinning them tightly to her back. Then he tied rope from her wrists to the rope over her tummy, pulling it very tight through her crotch. Then came a ball gag to fill her mouth and push her tongue down. It was strapped very tightly behind her head.
As he stood back to check the results, Heather tried to stand very straight and tall that her body would look good. She already knew just how much the elbows touching bondage projected her breasts straight outward in a fine display to arouse any male. Maybe if she looked very delicious he wouldn't leave her in the tight bondage too long before coming to claim his sexual prize. It was a pattern she had seem often in him - leaving her in tight bondage for a few hours then coming back to ravish her helpless body. The period of extreme helplessness made her feel all hot and bothered and did wonders for his arousal, too.
He dumped her naked body on the bed and lashed the ankles to the wrists, leaving her in a good and tight hogtie, one she sincerely hoped would not last too long. It was uncomfortable already and would grow much worst as time passed. Then she was blindfolded with a wide length of cloth wrapped many times over her eyes. She could feel what seemed to be elastic bandages wrapped over all of her face, leaving only her nose open. The wrapping were tight, cutting off all light and sight and making her feel very helpless indeed.
r Strong male arms picked up her body and carried her away. It was a puzzle but she simply figured that he meant her to spend her bondage time somewhere other than her bedroom. Perhaps in the hot desert sun where she would sweat up a storm and feel all limp and exhausted even if she did not fight the ropes. Or perhaps he wanted her laying on the carpet of his office as he worked, a silent, blind and helpless bundle of very sexy woman as an ornament to grace his working place.
But it was not carpet she felt when she was sat down. It was rough surface and uneven and oddly familiar.
"Fm sorry, Heather," Brian said.
"Oh, sure you are," she told herself. "I got to suffer through a couple hours of painful bondage while you bang away at that computer, and you're the one who's sorry."
"Things have been a little rough-financially, I mean," he continued. Suddenly Heather didn't like the sound in his voice. "Some of my investments went a little foo-paw." There was a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I'm afraid I have to raise some cash. A large amount. About the same amount I paid for you. Which was a good part of my fortune, I hate to say."
Suddenly Heather recognized the surface beneath her body as the trunk of a car. She began struggling wildly against the ropes but a hogtie as tightly done as that one was not to be defeated. She did little more than wiggled in place.
"So I've sold you." It sounded like the crack of doom to Heather. She wanted to scream rejection of what she was hearing. "Sorry." Then there followed the sound of a trunk lid closing over her and Brian was not there anymore.
She cried as the car drove out of the garage into the bright and hot desert sun, taking her away from the man she had grown to love in a strange, illogical way.
CHAPTER SIX - NAKED BEFORE MEN
"You'll need a good night's sleep to get you ready for what will happen to you in the morning," Natasha said conversationally. "I won't truss you up like a turkey, your hands can stay cuffed behind your back the way they are and I'll simply tie your feet. Sit down on the bed and stick your legs out."
Dawn Ryker realized she was more and more obeying commands and doing in docile fashion the things she was told to do. It was shaming but she could see no way out of it without doubling the punishments she would normally receive. She accordingly sat on the bed with her feet sticking out to watch her ankles bound with much thick cord. She also listened to her mistress' admonitions.
"There, you can't get out of that, darling. That's a pretty job of tying your ankles even if I do say so myself. You didn't get out of bed and hop around last night so I don't suppose you will tonight."
"Gosh, no! I seem to be in trouble enough already," Dawn retorted. "Natasha, that punishment you and Mavis sentenced me to, it is pretty awful, isn't it?"
"I sure wouldn't want it."
'Twenty-five on each foot. It sounds terrible. I really am sorry about what I did, can't you give me a break?"
"The best I'll do, darling, is knock off that extra five. There, does that make you feel better?"
"Well, yes, and thanks a million." The girl with tied feet hesitated a moment. "Natasha, isn't there something I can do or say or promise so my feet don't have to be whipped at all? I'm really scared."
"No, darling, you've been sentenced and that's the end to it. Maybe tomorrow you'd like to be gagged so you won't disgrace yourself."
"Oh, no, please no." Dawn's response was instant. She had a real fear of being rendered muter The mistress chuckled. "I'm going to be really mean, Dawn. I'm going to gag you now so you'll have to sleep with a gag in your mouth and over your lips all night long! By tomorrow you will have become so accustomed to it that you wouldn't want things any other way."
"I'm frightened of being gagged, Natasha," the young voice pleaded. "Please, please don't fix me so I can't speak."
Even to Dawn's inexperienced eye the gag appeared an innovation. Natasha admitted as much as she arranged its steel and leather. "I haven't used this before so I'm just as interested in the way it works as you, darling," she said without strict regard for truth. "Open that pretty mouth and stop beefing."
The expression on the youthful features spoke more than words. There was a moment when Dawn obviously considered revolt before slowly opening her mouth and meeting the eyes of the mistress in mute appeal. "You're going to push your tongue into a metal sleeve as I put this between your lips," Natasha explained. "When it's in place and your tongue can't move, I want you to clamp your teeth hard down. Then keep still and leave the rest to me."
This was like no gag Dawn had ever heard of. When her tongue was well within the metal sleeve, it clamped tight, making speech impossible. When she bit hard she found her teeth in a metal cast which held them tightly shut. A strap and buckle were drawn back across her cheeks and, with vicious tugs, the harness of a girl's mouth was made secure. Dawn's lips moved up an down against a smooth metal surface but accomplished nothing. She looked up piteously at the woman who had done this hateful thing and was rewarded by Natasha's usual cheerful laugh and a small mirror held for her eyes. The straps were cruel upon her cheek, she couldn't believe that Natasha actually expected her to spend the whole night and even sleep with such tight straps crushing her head. She tried to speak then to scream but produced only a few sounds through her nose. Shaking her head did no good, either.
Natasha's voice was a whisper, "It's no use, darling, you're fixed. "It's a wonderful piece of work and I'll use it on you again. You don't have to tell me your lips hurt where the straps tug back, I can see that. And I don't suppose you believe it's really happened. But you're very neatly gagged and you'll stay that way until I decide otherwise."
The bound and muted maiden sat on the bed to bitterly reflect upon her condition and watch her mistress strip naked, ridding herself eagerly of the clothes she had worn for the benefit of Mavis Selby. When she was thrust down upon the bed and her feet lifted and tucked away like a precious package, Dawn buried her face in the pillow and vowed not to think about tomorrow.
The day of punishment had to be bad, what else could it be? But Dawn started it in a cheerfully. Never had she been so happy as when that awful gag was taken from her mouth. When her hands were taken from back to front, she could almost believe in miracles. But Natasha shattered hopes of reprieve by explaining these kindnesses were only to enable her to eat breakfast in a civilize fashion because the guest of yesterday would once more be the guest of today.
The greeting of Mavis Selby, even through delivered in good intent, did nothing to improve an absent appetite. "Dawn, darling, isn't it wonderful! I'm going to whip one of your feet while Stephanie whips the other. Natasha gets the best of things as usual so she'll sit and watch."
"I'm terribly lucky," said Dawn with bitter sarcasm.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, dear. Oh, and by the way, you won't be able to scream because Natasha tells me she's got the most wonderful gag. I believe you slept in it last night?"
"It's bloody awful and shouldn't be used on a dog."
"Well, don't worry, dear, you won't have to wear it too long. That is unless Natasha wants to drag out your punishment. But as far as I'm concerned I'd like to give you the best I've got right at the start and get it over with. I'm sure you'd like that too?"
"Right now I wish I could disappear. Please, Mavis, can't I be forgiven?"
"You'll have to ask Natasha but I suspect you've done that already. If I owned you, I'll limit you to ten strokes on each foot instead of twenty. If you get any opportunities, do try to persuade your mistress to let me purchase you. I'm not nearly as strict as she but you can bet you boots you'll get no chances to run away. Let's go to breakfast."
"I'm not hungry, I don't want any breakfast."
"Well, come and sit at the table with us anyway. Natasha will probably insist on you eating something. And I'll give you a tip, darling, don't be sulky. Your owner hates sulkiness in a girl. It will just earn you some more strips. Watch it!"
Dawn watched it carefully, eating as little as Natasha would allow but thankfully drinking the coffee. But her thoughts were not with food. She could swear her feet tingled already in anticipation. Carefully the captive girl made great play with her handcuffs throughout the meal, convinced the sight of silver bracelets on her wrists gave pleasure to those watching. If they were pleased, they might be lenient. Thus do captive girls clutch at straws.
The preparation of Dawn for the whipping of her feet followed a most definite course, obviously already decided. Since pleadings seemed inevitable, the sentenced girl was first of all gagged with the same steel as had kept her silent the night before. Revolt was impossible and Dawn obediently opened her mouth. The tugging of the buckle which would insure her silence was a kneel of doom. Mavis took a firm grip on a handful of Dawn's hair to insure control as the handcuffs were taken from Dawn's wrists. The captive dared not fight as she was turned about and her hands placed palm to palm. She stood still and breathless as cord once more bit her wrist as band after band was wrapped on. Dawn could not see the final knot but felt the stem authority of the cord upon her arms. Had she not be rendered silent, she would have cried as more cord bit her elbows. Natasha's voice was a whisper of delight, "I always think the elbows are most important, Mavis. Once they're tight in cord or rope, they take the fight out of a girl. And the way they wrack back her shoulders and make her breasts protrude makes the little darling doubly delightful. Just look at her nipples now! I'd swear they were demanding us to make it even tighter so they could stick out a little more. Dawn's so sweet."
The girl being thus unkindly dealt with took a quick glance as though to confirm that her twin nipples were actually sticking out. They were, and she felt a blush beginning to suffice her cheeks. How could her nipples stand out so when she was being hurt by overly tight cord around her arms? And when she knew she would soon be whipped on the bottom of her feet? Instead they acted like they were being teased by a lover. Dawn sighed but nothing came out of the steel gag.
It was the room of the awful torture instruments that held the final surprise. Mavis disappeared and the bound girl about to be punished was drawn towards what had previously been a bare space of wall but which now revealed two holes just large enough for her thighs. Just two holes near the floor, nothing more. In docile resignation, Dawn allowed her mistress to ease her weight upon the floor with much of her weight resting upon taunt breasts. Dawn's ankles were thrust within the holes in the walls and grasped from the other side by hands which pulled her legs until her thighs jammed against the hole's edges. She felt her legs bent at the knees and some sort of a wooden bar against the backs of her ankles. Then there was leather straps tight around those slim ankles and her legs were held immobile. Her fingers could feel the wall. It was a strange way to bind a girl. She could not move her body for it was jammed into holes in the wall with her legs spread moderately wide. Her ankles were lashed to something solid with the soles of her feet turned upward, the perfect position for a whipping. Her arms were helpless and hurting, and the only thing she could do was roll slightly from side to side. And that hurt her breasts.
At first she was puzzled as to why they had gone to such lengths to prevent her from seeing her own feet. She had thought they would want her watching the whip descent that she might more fully experience the whipping. But this way she did not know when the blow was coming nor which foot was to be struck. This was indeed a worse way than if she could see. She would not be able to even tell who was doing the striking.
For a few moments there was nothing, no blows, no words. Dawn frowned. Was she to be left alone for a while to think about the coming pain? Hell, there was enough pain in her arms without thinking about more to come. Then she felt hands grasp her foot. Suddenly she knew what was happening and tried to struggle against it but her foot was held solidly while a loop of cord was placed around her big toe and tightened down. Then the cord was pulled downward, bending her foot so the sole was arched. The other foot was quickly bound and Dawn was left without even the ability to move her toes. The tender soles of her feet felt so exposed, so vulnerable that she wanted to cry.
It would have been torture were she just left bound like that. But that degree of torture was not what these two woman sought. They wanted her screaming and she was sure she would soon be doing just that. The attention to detail they had given to her bondage clearly told her that they were experts at this torturing of helpless and naked girls.
On the other side of the wall they were choosing the first instrument of pain, a leather strap, wickedly thin. Suddenly Natasha was on this side of the wall, grasping her hair to raise her head up and plant an ardent kiss upon her forehead. After that there was nothing but the waiting.
The wait seemed long. Perhaps it was only ten minutes but to the trussed up girl seconds crawled. She strained to hear a sound, a voice, even the swish of a whip. But there was nothing. She squirmed and moaned as the cords reminded her how strictly bound she was. The floor was hard against her breasts. She was panting hard and sweating the sweat of fear.
Suddenly fire exploded in her left foot, evoking a muffled scream from Dawn and a jerk against her bonds. Her trussed body rocked mindlessly from side to side as pain shot down her leg. Her scream wasn't loud, the gag prevented volume, but it was sincere, a long, drawn out scream of unquestionable pain. When the pain died down enough for her to think again, Dawn was sure her foot had been cut in half and she would never walk again.
They waited two minutes before Stephanie brought down the leather strap on the other upturned foot. Through the wall came another garbled scream to excite and thrill the feminine hearts on this side. Stephanie silently cried as she delivered the blows with all her force. He had pleaded that she not be made to be the one delivering such pain to her friend. But her pleas had been met with stem glares and the promise of future punishment all her own. It was Natasha who silenced the young girl's protests with a quiet suggestion that perhaps she would like to trade places with Dawn.
And Dawn would be whipped anyway, Stephanie was assured. She bit her lip and took the leather strap from Mavis. There was a pain in her heart with each blow landed upon Dawn's tender feet but she did not hold back the strength of her young arm. To do so would surely be detected by Natasha and then Stephanie's punishment would be terrible. She didn't like the way Mavis looked at her feet, as if the woman was already watching the leather striking her flesh. She shivered and rose her hand over the helpless Dawn's feet.
Natasha would always win. Stephanie knew it. Mavis knew it. And Dawn was learning it.
After three strokes on each foot, Natasha gave Stephanie a small riding crop and took the leather band from her trembling fingers. Dawn, who had thought the pain could not get worse, suddenly found herself screaming even harder into the metal gag. On her side of the wall, her body arched up until her breasts were completely off the floor. She held herself like that for long trembling seconds then flopped back to the floor, weeping. This was terrible. This was torture! She had never known there could be such pain, never imagined it.
Mavis watched carefully as Stephanie whipped the soft flesh, seeking any slacking of the blows that would give her an excuse to punish this girl also. After four blows on each foot with the riding crop, Mavis took the instrument from her hands and quickly slashed two hard one on each foot, a demonstration of what she wanted and expected.
"Easy there!" said Natasha casually. "Stretch it out. Make her enjoy the kiss of the leather longer."
Mavis said nothing but gave the whip back to Stephanie. Natasha nodded and knew that she must continue. The correction of Miss Dawn Ryker's flight for freedom continued.
* * *
For several days Dawn Ryker could not walk. When she tried her knees buckled beneath her in a way to assure her mistress that her prized possession would, for the time being, have no interest in escape. Dawn was allowed to crawl on all fours with leg irons removed and wrists handcuffed in front.
The whipping of her feet had been a lesson she would never forget. She could now understand Stephanie's docility. During the time it would take her feet to heal she would be docile, too. She would obey, that went without question. Had she been ordered to she would have kneel and delivered her vows of slavery. It was a bad, bad time.
But the bad time passed and Dawn's treatment by her mistress was a flow of sweet affection. When it came time for her ankles to be once more ironed, they made a joke of it as though the prisoner had won a victory. It was a new dimension of captivity Dawn had never dreamed possible.
Dawn had been Natasha's prisoner long enough that the enforced absence of men in her life had resulted in a very real hunger for the opposite sex, and a good deal of speculation as to what a life might be in which they were forever denied. But nonetheless when the time came to expose her nakedness to the interested regard of Paul Semple, she approached the ordeal with mixed feelings. Mavis had provided no help to her at all and perhaps this unknown male would prove equally useless. But the chance was always there. Along with the hope that Natasha would one day stretch her luck too far. There was also the disconcerting fact that on the occasion of the second visitor her mistress would once more change her sex to become Mr. Ed.
Stephanie had long since ceased to be contrite and apologetic over the whipping of Dawn's feet. She was now her cheerful self in making the captive as beautiful as possible and then propelling her with a hand in her naked back into a fresh adventure in the lounge. Dawn's only attire was the pair of steel bracelets which confined her wrists in front. Finding herself suddenly confronted by a handsome man and a beaming Mr. Ed, Dawn was a little taken back. Her hands rose instinctively to cover her breasts but she forced them back down. There was the promise of punishment if she proved to be coy. Her simple, "Good afternoon, Mr. Semple," was polite as was her smile to Mr. Ed. The naked girl had been well trained. After the usual formal courtesies Dawn inquired brightly if the visitor desired tea or coffee before going back down the passage to get the trolley with refreshments.
"Damn it, Ed, you've got yourself a treasure!" Mr. Semple exclaimed as he examined at close range the lovely breasts, the flat belly and very shapely legs. Dawn ignored the remark as she passed out the cups and plates, using two hands easily.
"You've been after me for a long time to buy one of your girl but I suppose this one's not for sale?"
"There'll be others quite soon, Paul, they come and go. But I'm not even sure you want a girl around the house, especially one you have to keep chained all the time. You're too damned conventional."
"I think I could endure one like this. She wouldn't be hard to take. Damn it, man, all those fading whip marks! What on earth did she do to you to make you lace into her like that?"
"It was just her initiation," Mr. Ed said modestly. "But she did misbehave a little while ago and got the soles of her feet whipped. She's only just beginning to walk again. I'm sure she'd show you the marks if you ask her."
"I'd rather not see." Paul Semple gazed up quizzically at a blushing girl. "Is this guy telling me the truth? Or are you all kidding me? Did you really get your feet whipped?"
"Yes, I did, Mr. Semple. I'm quite willing to show you if you like."
The offer was waved away but Paul Semple's curiosity remained. "Ed wants me to buy one of his girls," he continued as if discussing the purchase of a car. "I've never done so because I've always figured a girl would never see me as anything but an enemy. Do you want to tell me something about your state of mind after what he's done to you?"
Dawn shrugged and was conscious of Mr. Ed watching. "I've simply become increasingly obedient after each punishment," Dawn said cautiously. "I haven't gotten down on my knees and sworn eternal obedience but I've done about everything else." She held up joined hands. "When a girl is always chained or tied she comes to realize she isn't herself anymore, she belongs to someone else. It's nice of you to be interested, Mr. Semple."
The big man nodded. "But you would escape if you could. Am I right?" Dawn shifted uneasily, well aware of the stern gaze of Mr. Ed as well as this man. "I think I'd have to be rescued, Mr. Semple," she said. "I'd never have the courage to try it myself. Not after what happened to me last time. That was enough."
"She sounds like a damned sensible little trick, Ed. You quite sure she's not for sale?"
"No way, old boy, she's mine."
Paul Semple was not yet through with his research. "You see I've always figured that any girl held captive the way you are has to be resentful against her master and hate his guts." He looked at Dawn shrewdly. "Would you care to comment?"
"I don't hate Mr. Ed, if that's what you mean."
"Well, okay, let's leave it at that before we get your bottom whipped for saying something you shouldn't." Paul Semple sighed. "Look, girl, about this obedience thing, I'm not going to ask you questions but if I told you to go and get me a riding crop and then bend over and touch your toes, would you do it without question?"
For answer Dawn did exactly that, demurely offering the wicked crop then turning to bend over and touch her toes. She was trembling but hoped it wouldn't show.
"Well, I'll be damned." Paul was genuinely impressed. But his next question was more of concern than interest. "Gosh, Ed, the girl's bottom-it's positively filled with marks! Did her initiation whipping have to be that bad?"
"Yes, old chap, it really did. You'll have to trust my experience in handling these packages. If you ever buy one from me, I'll look after her initiation right here, if you're that squeamish."
"Good gosh, I'll bet the poor kid couldn't sit down for weeks!"
"Just for a few days, sir."
Paul Semple thumped Mr. Ed's back hard enough to shake the ash from the cigarette at the end of the long ivory holder. "I'll bet you've promised the girl a thrashing if she doesn't say everything just right." He laughed good naturedly, then turned to Dawn. "You can put that riding crop away now, sweetheart, I never intended to use it. I'd make an absolutely lousy master. But there is another thing I'm curious about. You're naked in the presence of two men. How do you feel about that?"
"I'm always naked, Mr. Semple." She permitted herself a smile. "Nakedness belongs with my position in the world. I became accustomed to it quite a while ago. Being naked enables my Master to look at what he has purchased. And if I am to be punished, it saves him the trouble of taking off my clothes. It's embarrassing at first but very convenient."
"She used the word purchased, Ed, but I'd be surprised if you parted with any cash. How did you pick this one up?"
"A simple kidnapping, old boy. It's really quite simple. If they weren't so damn scared of the law the chaps who purchase these little sweethearts from me could easily kidnap one themselves and save the money." Mr. Ed mused thoughtfully. "But there is a factor I've come to realize. When you strip a girl naked and put her on the auction block, she becomes doubly desirable. If you add some whip marks to her pretty skin, her price goes up. Naturally I always do this. When I hold my sales, the clients who come to buy appear to loose all judgment. I've always chuckled to myself knowing every one of them has an erection the whole time. The girl's know it, too. They're not near as innocent as they'd have you think."
At bedtime Dawn's owner, no longer a foppish male but a naked female again, gave high praise for Dawn's performance and was curious enough to ask, "Did having your feet whipped have anything to do with the way you played ball with poor old Paul?"
Dawn hesitated, ashamed of the truth but seeing no profit in a lie, quietly admitted, "I'm afraid it did. All the time my feet were being whipped I vowed over and over never to do anything to get them whipped again." She thought quietly for a few moments. "You've changed me, Natasha. I'm not the saucy brat you had kidnapped. She's still around somewhere and I'd like to think she'd come alive one day. But right now she's safely locked away in memory because of all the punishments you've given me to get rid of her. Does that sound silly?"
"No, but thanks for telling me, darling. I'll watch out for that saucy brat's reappearance. I suppose you know I want you to be a saucy and as insolent as you wish because I simply adore punishing you."
Dawn was grateful for the day, perhaps it brought a new era. Since the trauma of the whip upon the soles of her feet she had not been punished in any of the many ways Natasha had at her command. The stocks were a bitter memory added to the list of terrors she used within her mind to inhibit the saucy brat she had once been. As always at such moments she thought longingly of Heather.
"I've thought of an unkind way for you to spend the night," Natasha broke into her thoughts. "For once I'm not going to tie your ankles. You'll wear only handcuffs, your right wrist cuffed to your left ankle." Natasha laughed. "I may find out just what you can do in such a fix. But whatever it is you'll find it damned awkward."
Dawn knew that thanks were thanks were in order. After all, she might have been spending the night in an extra tight hogtie! She said thank you sincerely and promised to be a good girl. The described bondage seemed so trivial to Dawn as to prompt the mischievous query, "I could hope around on one leg and maybe find the key to the handcuffs."
"You'll welcome to try, darling. The penalty for failure to find the key is ten hard strokes with something or other someplace on your pretty skin. Your punishment for actually finding it would be twenty of the same. I'll be you won't even look."
The mistress was right. Dawn sat on the bed and giggled over the joining of her limbs. When the time came she lay pressed against Natasha and, with her one free hand, sought Natasha's breast. She slept the sleep of innocence throughout the night. But intermingled with her dreams and idea was born, and idea she tried to deal with tactfully at breakfast.
"What are you grinning about, darling," Natasha demanded at breakfast. "If you enjoyed the way I had you fixed last night so much I won't do it to you again. I can't permit you to have all the fun."
"It's just a silly notion," the prisoner said offhandedly. "You know the effect handcuffs have on me, you know they turn me on, hell, being tied with ropes turns me on. I would really love you to place a key to my handcuffs and leg irons someplace in full view but where I cannot possibly get at it. I'd get an awful charge out of seeing it there."
"I'll bet you would. I wasn't born yesterday, darling."
"But, Natasha, I don't mean something simple and easy. I'm suggesting something impossible-maybe taped to the ceiling or on the wall of that cell where I could see it through the bars."
"You're asking me to put you in a cage?"
"I didn't mean that. I mean with me outside looking in."
"I think you're up to something," Natasha mused thoughtfully. "But it's a bit of a sweet idea and I'll give it some thought. By the way, darling, our visitor this afternoon is a young married woman named Wendy Harridence. Rick Harris couldn't make it this afternoon so we'll get him tomorrow. You're a lucky girl I'm going to tall this trouble to keep you amused."
"Thank you, Natasha. I really did enjoy Paul yesterday. It wasn't nearly as awful as I'd figured it would be." Dawn giggled. "I suppose being naked all the time is habit forming. I found myself really enjoying the way he looked at me."
"Well, you've got a body men like to look at." Natasha licked her lips in a way that plainly said women liked to look at it, too.
Wendy Harridence was every inch a sweetheart, she bubbled affection and good-will, and a mischievous curiosity about everything she saw. She had a husband who's name was Brewster, a husband who adored her with an inordinate infatuation. Surveying the chained naked girl which was Natasha's surprise, she bestowed an almost clinical interest upon every feminine feature Dawn had to offer.
The whip marks she took as a matter of course for. after all, she was in the home of a friend who whipped girls all the time, an activity Wendy much admired. "You've whipped Dawn beautifully, darling, when are you going to whip me?"
Dawn was startled. But Natasha was not. She had heard that request before. "Behave yourself," she admonished in mock severity, "You'll give my prisoner ideas." She winked at Dawn. "Would you like to see this charming creature get her pretty bottom cropped?"
Dawn sighed. This was going to be harder than yesterday. "I expect Mrs. Harridence is just joking," she said, playing it safe. "Shall I bring in the tea things?"
"I don't want tea yet," Wendy said with decision. Turning her attention to her hostess, she continued, "Look, Natasha, you can't expect me to calmly drink tea when you exhibit such a creature before my eyes. And naked and chained, too! You know how handcuffs affect me. I'm already panting. I think it's mean of you to never whip me when this darling here has positively set me on fire!"
"Wendy, my dear, you're simply exciting yourself," said Natasha casually. "I doubt if you could endure the whipping you're admiring on her skin. Or the way we whipped her feet a few days back. If Brewster would allow you to have one, it would be a good idea to buy one of my slaves. You could whip her and handcuff her to your heart's content."
"But I don't want to do things to her, I want things done to me," Wendy wailed. "Next time Brewster's out of town, why couldn't I come here and you could keep me prisoner in lovely handcuffs and things. And whip me until I'd had enough."
"That would be about the second stroke."
"Well, whatever...." Their visitor's eye had never left Dawn's nakedness. "She wears those handcuffs so beautifully, Natasha." She sighed. "May I please tighten them a notch or two? "They're tight enough already."
"Well, yes, but I'd like to see her wince. She's so beautiful and so obedient. But I'll bet she'd run away if she got the chance. Please let me tighten them just a little?"
"Oh, all right, if it amuses you." Natasha obviously had a weak spot for Wendy Harridence. "But you can only make them tighter on her for a little while. No stopping her circulation. Here's the key, you'll need it to release the safety catch."
It was like being an adored pet. Dawn extended joined hands and winced as playful fingers clasp the wicked bands far too tight, locking them once again and returning the key to its owner. Wendy had not stopped at a single notch but had constricted the handcuffs to make the far too tight, to the point of being painful to their wearer. Dawn appealed to Natasha by her eyes but said not a word. The look in Natasha's eyes clearly said she should allow the girl her to play her game. The steel indented well into her flesh.
"You're a beautiful little blonde sadist, Wendy, my pet," Natasha accused good-naturedly. "Here's the key again, take those things off her. Then I want you, Dawn, to put them on Wendy so she can get rid of this silly notion. Put them on sensibly, not so her hands fall off.
Wendy was delighted and so was Dawn who rubbed her wrists happily when the steel was removed. She looked up to get a stem look from her mistress. "You're free, Dawn, but don't get any ideas. Get on with the job and give me back the key."
Standing eye to eye with the bubbling blonde who was holding out her hands in innocent surrender, Dawn did something she had ever done before. Taking the limp and willing wrist to fit upon it one of the handcuffs and slowly click it shut until it was snug. Dawn stepped back in total freedom, still messaging her wrists, while watching Wendy Harridence explore joined hands she could not pull apart. The wife was obviously into a deep emotion, breathing heavily, pink cheeked with excitement.
"Now that the girl's got her heart's desire, you might as well go and get the tea things, Dawn," Natasha said comfortably. "I'm trusting you, don't blow it."
"It's wonderful to be made to wear these delightful things," Wendy said, breathlessly as she accepted her cup and saucer. "I'm letting the feeling sort of sink in and it's making me outrageously wet." She gazed at Dawn. "But it's not the same as with you, is it? You don't have a choice while I asked for it. Doesn't it simply curl you up when you're forced to wear them?"
"I doubt if she gets as wet as you do, but she does get homy," Natasha informed with the same tone as before. "Have you had enough of them now? Do you want them off?"
"Oh, no! Oh, please no! They've just been put on. Can't I wear them through my visit? I'm sure Dawn won't mind."
"She's free and that's against my principles." Natasha gazed at Dawn possessively. "Go and get leg irons, darling, you have to wear something."
Swiftly Dawn did as she was told. But the heavy silver links and bands caught Wendy's eye. "Jeepers, they're beautiful! Natasha, dear, don't waste them on this girl-make her put them on me. Pretty please?"
"You'd fall flat on your face."
"Well, not while I'm sitting down. I'd make the loveliest sounds while I moved around."
Natasha's nod was all it took. Dawn knelt and fitted the heavy silver shackles around silk-clad ankles. To her the sound of the click was ominous. To Wendy it was pure delight. The now bound girl could hardly wait to wiggle her legs back and forth to evoke the metallic clinks she knew would come. She giggled in delight. "You've made me so happy," she said sincerely to both watching girls. "I know I'm an idiot but I can't help it. I simply adore these things and all I need to make me truly happy is to be really and truly kidnapped and get my hands and feet lock the way they are by force." She sighed. "But I don't suppose that's ever going to happen."
"Consider yourself lucky it won't happen. You'd soon get tired of being tied up and long for Brewster's loving arms. Look, Wendy, why don't you simply ask Brewster to buy you a pair of handcuffs and put on you every morning before he goes to work?"
Wendy snorted. "Don't think I haven't tried but the silly idiot's so totally square! It wasn't until after I married him that I realized how stuffy he is. I did my best to get him interested but when he started to talk about buying me the best psychiatric care. Well, I left well enough alone. And all my old friends are the same, they're all a bunch of twits." She sighed delightedly at the metal holding her prisoner. "Gosh, it feels so good to be fastened like this."
"What I should do with that silly little girl is have her properly kidnapped and properly sold," Natasha said thoughtfully after their guest had shed her chains and gone. "She'd make some man a wonderful prisoner. And, considering how well we're acquainted, I might possibly make Paul or even Rick interested. I'd find it an interesting experiment."
"But what about her husband?"
"That old fuddy deserves to loose her. And he couldn't do much because he'd never see her again. Darling, bring me those handcuffs. You look positively indecent without them. But you've scored a few points by good behavior. Tell me, darling, weren't you tempted to run?"
"Yes, of course, I expect I always will be. I'm terribly sorry."
"It's natural enough so we won't shed any tears over it. Now your other hand, dear, you've got the sweetest wrists I've ever owned. Damn it, that idiot girl almost cut them in two. We won't bother with the leg irons, you can put them away."
Dawn chalked up the afternoon as one more experience in imprisonment. None of these friends of Natasha's seemed to offer any hope whatsoever of escape. Rick Harris, the still unknown one, would probably be much the same. He would enjoy Mr. Ed's hospitality and ogle and maybe get an erection over the naked girl his host kept chained more or less as a household pet. She did wonder, in passing, why she hadn't yet been given as a gift to one of the visitors, and knew herself somewhat disappointed although she wasn't sure why. But from the sound of his name, Rick Harris might be the one to get the prize. But Dawn was increasingly aware that neither Natasha nor Mr. Ed had much interesting in carnality. The lesbian promise still hovered but as time went by it seemed to hold less and less threat. Paul had come and gone without her sex being made available for his enjoyment. It was all very puzzling but she had been Natasha's prisoner for less than a month. But since most experiences as a captive girl had been painful or immobilizing, she knew it best to quietly hold her tongue and await events.
Undoubtedly the mistress had chosen diversity among their visitors. Rick Harris was as different from Paul as Mavis had been to Wendy. Finding herself in the now familiar exposure of frontal nudity and chained hands, Dawn assessed his robust masculinity as that of a young man who had probably played in the stock market with success and was finding a puppy-like enjoyment of each hour of each day. He treated Mr. Ed with a sufficient touch of reverence to concede his money-making superiority. His regard of Dawn was unashamedly carnal. He did not drool but his eyes were bright and his speech without inhibition. He looked at the naked girl and his decision was instant.
"Ed, you've absolutely got to let me fuck this one. She's magnificent!" Then, as an afterthought, added to Dawn, "You'd like to be fucked by an expert, wouldn't you?"
Dawn supposed this was it. But she had forgotten Mr. Ed who now stated the obvious in no uncertain tones. "Can it, Rick, you know better than that. This girl is my private property. Be grateful you're getting a look at her. If you want a female to take home and impale, I'll be getting a fresh supply tomorrow. You can take your choice."
"But at that damn auction you put on, Ed, they fetch altogether too much money. I'd bet if you put this one on the block, marked with the whip the way she is, she'd fetch a million."
"Probably. But there'll be some fine material in the fresh batch. What are you drinking today?"
"Plain scotch. I've switched to Chivas Regal. I suppose you've got some."
Dawn fetched the ordered scotch at the bar, feeling her whip-marked bottom and back burn as it was presented to male view. She knew instinctively that Rick Harris would be good in bed and almost wished Mr. Ed would deliver her to him. But she brought back the drinks like a professional waitress, sinking to one knee to present the potent drinks, then stood. Rick Harris sipped the highland brew as a man enjoying it, but his eyes never left the contours of the girl who served.
"The way she wears those handcuffs is pure beauty, old chap," he mused. "If the rest of the world could see her, handcuffs would become the next fad. Would she really give us trouble if you took them off?"
"It's a lot kinder to leave them on. Saves the little darling wondering if she should take a chance."
"Well, anyway, I like the effect. It's given me the damndest erection, old boy. Wouldn't cost you a thing to let me have a whack at her. Just take half an hour, maybe less. And I've got a notion she's as homy as I am. Surely you don't mind my finding out?"
It all happened very suddenly. The boyish guest reverted to school days, grasping one of Dawn's nipples with one hand and possessing a wet handful of her sex with the other. Acting by instinct, and without thought of consequence, Miss Dawn Ryker struck Mr. Rick Harris squarely on his face with handcuffed hands.
It was a truly terrible moment. Dawn had struck hard, harder than she would have desired, and she now stood stricken in dismay as Rick Harris busied himself with a handkerchief at a slightly bloody nose. Mr. Ed was gazing at his prized possession with an expression she could not read.
"Evidently, Rick, the little darling hasn't been trained enough. But, damn it, man, you didn't have to grab at her like a sex-crazed schoolboy. Are you hurt?"
"It's nothing." Rick waved away the damage. "I suppose I asked for it. Probably the dear girl was a lady before you grabbed her." He grinned at his companions. "But, anyway, I proved my point, she's as wet as they come."
Dawn was distraught. She had been caught off guard and given no time to reason. But at the same time, she was filled with sorrow for Rick. "I've terribly sorry," she faltered, "but you caught me unaware." Her voice trailed off into silence. Punishment hovered.
"Look here, Ed," Rick Harris continued as if Dawn had said nothing, "don't be rough on the girl. I behaved like a boar. Forget the whole thing." He grunted. "If you had just given her to me for thirty minutes, I don't think this would have happened."
Without being ordered, Dawn sped to provide fresh drinks, half kneeling as she offered a new glass to Rick. "I behaved like a silly girl. I do sincerely apologize." She dared not look at Mr. Ed.
It was never an argument, Mr. Ed held all the cards. Just as he held Dawn. Rick Harris doubtfully listened to his host's exposition upon the merits of discipline and self-control, as well and the disposition of any prisoner who failed. He tried to counter the arguments but his efforts were fruitless against Mr. Ed's outrage at what Dawn had done.
Fixing the trembling girl with a look she knew all too well, he ordered, "I want you to tell this good-natured idiot that you deserve to be punished and to formally request such. Get with it!"
"I was stupid and unkind," Dawn said in a hopeless monotone. "It's good of you to forgive me, but I have earned punishment and am prepared to endure whatever penalty my master decides." He nearly slipped and said "Mistress" but caught herself in time. "But thank you for your concern."
Mr. Ed then formally sentence Dawn Ryker to spend the following day in what he called the Brank. Dawn did not know what a Brank might be and dared not ask.
CHAPTER SEVEN - NEW OWNER
It was dark, hot, and bumpy. The ropes hurt. The gag made her mouth ache. And, as her tears dried, Heather tried to take stock of her situation. Why were there an ache within at leaving Brian? She didn't really love the bastard. How could she? He had bought her, keep her a bound and chained prisoner, whipped her when the whim was upon him, and ravished her body whenever he felt like it. Her tortured her with burning hot desert sand and freezing inside a refrigerator. He hung her from rings in the wall and toyed with her hurting body. And he had allowed her no chance for the escape she desperately wanted.
No, there was no reason why she should like him, let along love him. Then why was there such an ache in her heart? Damn it, the bastard had just dropped her when he needed a little money for some business game or something! A lot he cared for her.
She was going to a new owner, of that she was sure but not much else. Perhaps, if she were lucky, it would be back to Mr. Ed. Not that she liked that foppish wimp but back there she could maybe get a lead on where Dawn was. At least it was a step towards rescue of little sister.
There was little Heather could do. She simply did not have enough data to make decisions. All she could do was strengthen her resolve to get free from these terrible people who kidnapped girls and held them prisoner. She would get free and then extract a terrible revenge. That was her vow and it was as strong as ever. That Mr. Ed would rue the day he ever sat eyes upon her. And Brian would be sorry, too. And whoever was her new unseen, unnamed owner-he would be damned sorry he tried to buy Heather Ryker. Mental resolve came easy. Finding a comfortable position in which to endure the long trip proved impossible. Long before the end of the drive Heather had turned into one huge mass of pain. Her shoulders ached, her arms hurt, her legs were pained from being bent backwards. Her jaw ached from the ball held firmly within. Her breasts were rubbed raw by the rough carpeting of the trunk. In fact, the only part of her that wasn't hurting was her pussy and it was doing it's damndest to send signals of arousal to her brain.
Heather still didn't understand why being tightly bound and in pain aroused her pussy into pumping hormones but it did. It had happened far too many times at Brian's desert White House for her to not see the connection. But it was so illogical! You bind up a girl painfully tight and then torture her and she responds with sexual arousal and often orgasm! It just didn't make sense.
But after a couple of hours with no end in sight, she succumbed to the lure of some pleasure to intervene in a black world of pain. She unfocused her mind and let her body respond as it wished. Soon the tight crotch rope and a little tugging backwards with her arms provided just the right pressure and tiny bit of friction needed to make her climb that ladder to sexual heights. When it came, it was a fine orgasm, complete with loud moans of pleasure (muffled by gag and head wrapping, of course), and a general rigidness of the body as it spasmed through a prolonged and intense emotional experience. Of course, to an outside observer, her orgasm-induced struggled against her ropes wouldn't appear much different from her anger-driven attempts earlier. But the end result was different. For a while she rested in that wonderful oblivion of a woman in orgasm afterglow. Later the pain and discomfort would bring her back down to earth.
It was a pattern repeated several times over the course of the long car trip. It brought some degree of relief to the imprisoned girl and that was a boon not to be dismissed lightly. After four and a half hours, the trunk lid was opened and Miss Heather Ryker returned to the normal world.
* * *
The elastic around her head was the last part of her bondage to be taken off. Before that her arms and legs had been unbound but were so ravished by the long period of strict bondage that she could hardly move. Her arms had been pulled to each side and again bound, this time to something that held them spread wide and level. Then her ankles were spread and tied so she had to stand awkwardly with them about three feet apart. Only then were her eyes unwrapped and the gag taken from her mouth.
The light wasn't too bright but it took Heather much blinking and time before she could see. Then it was only to find a plain room, devoid of furniture and painted a pastel pink. Two overhead lights shined down upon her but with subdued rather than bright light. Dimly she could see someone standing before her.
Suddenly her world exploded into flames. With a loud gasp, Heather leaped to her toes to strain against the ropes. "Arrrggggh! Oh, shit!" she cried as the pain slowly subsided. It had been a riding crop brought up squarely between her legs that had shattered Heather's peace of mind.
"Got your attention." The voice was feminine but husky. An arm came into the light, a woman's arm but a strong arm and holding a black riding crop. "Always got to get their attention first."
Heather cringed as far as her bonds allowed, waiting for the next blow. She tried to cross her legs but such protection was not available to her. There was a laugh and suddenly her left breast stinging sharply. Heather had the impression that her unseen assailant had merely flicked her wrist but the pain in her breast was much more than a light tap. A second flick and her right nipple was shocked by the leather end of the riding crop.
"All right, got your attention." The speaker came into view, tapping the crop lightly against her palm. It was a large woman, easily inches over Heather's height and many pounds heavier. But she was not fat. It was a large, solid woman who faced the naked and helpless Heather. "Your name's Heather? Better be. Listen, I'm going to tell you some of the rules around here. Take notes. You'll be tested!" Her laugh was coarse and harsh in the empty room. Heather saw little humor in the joke.
"One: you address me as 'Mistress.' Nothing else.
"Two: you obey. Any order, any command, no matter what. Better get that down right away. I tell you to jump you ask how high after you leave the ground.
"Three: you're my property. I make you feel good or I make you hurt. All up to me. Got that? Good. And make no mistake, I can really make you hurt." Again that coarse laugh, as if a sadist horse was amused. "I just love to make pretty women hurt." A strong hand grabbed her breast and squeezed. Heather gasped aloud. "That's why I bought you. I just love to make pretty little girls like you hurt. And there's so many ways...." Heather gulped and tried to drive the fear down. But logical thinking was hard when faced with an enemy who's only apparent desire was to hurt you. And who had the power to do it.
Suddenly fire engulfed her sex again and Heather screamed. "Thought I saw your attention wandering a bit there!" Again loud laughter.
"Yes, Mistress," Heather gasped out.
"That's better. Now, have you ever had needles stuck in your breasts?"
* * *
Heather Ryker lay upon the cement floor that night and wept not only for the pain in her body but for the life she had lost only that morning. Her pussy was sore and her breasts were very tender. The riding crop had lashed them many times but luckily never broke the skin. A swing straight up between the legs was Katrina's favorite form of hurting. The riding crop had pounded her sex until the whole area was numb. Heather seriously doubted it would ever feel right again. And that she would ever have sex again.
After an introductory lashing with the crop, Katrina had told her new property what her name was but admonished against ever using it. "You're a slavegirl. Ain't nothing lower than that. Shit, you gotta look up to a two dollar whore!"
Heather was allowed to stand against that wall for a few hours after her whipping before being untied. She was allowed a meager meal and a few minutes in the bathroom. Then she was "fixed up" for the night, a process that involved her laying face down upon the concrete floor of her little prison. Her wrists were stretched out above her head and locked in handcuffs that in turn were locked to a ring in the floor. Her ankles were locked together with another pair of handcuffs then those were pulled towards the opposite wall by a rope tied around the middle link. Quickly the naked girl was strung out on the floor, unable to do much more than roll a little from side to side. A swat across the bare bottom was her good night greeting. Then she was alone.
The handcuffs were tight, especially the ones on her ankles but not impossible. Resting her tenderized breasts against the rough concrete was painful, and she quickly found that it was best not to move more than she had to. Heather rested her head against one outstretched arm and wept.
The story was as simple as it was horrible. This woman named Katrina had been married to a mousy little man who's only contribution to her enjoyment of life was to have the good sense to be killed in a plane accident after buying a huge insurance policy at the airport. The money was invested carefully by Katrina who had plans for it and knew just how much she needed.
She had bought two girls before Heather. The first was an overweight teenager who Katrina quickly whipped into shape with a diet of daily whippings and very little food. When the girl was slim and trim and well marked, Katrina "traded her in" for a better model, a prettier girl of twenty-two who satisfied Katrina for a few weeks with her squirmings under the whip and crop but who also had the unusual good sense to begin liking the attentions of the whip. When it became obvious that the girl was getting too much satisfaction from the kiss of the lash, she was resold for more money. Seems there are people who especially enjoy a girl who likes pain.
Then there came Heather. And Katrina was happy. Here was a beautiful woman who hated being hurt. And that wonderful body had so many soft, sensitive placed to hurt.
As she lay upon the cold floor, Heather pondered her fate and found that she could hardly imagine a worse one. This woman didn't even want to use her sexually. Lesbian sex held no attraction, only the infliction of pain. And it would go on and on, day in and day out, the whip and crop and strong fingers squeezing her flesh. And needles. Katrina had demonstrated that she was not kidding by slowly pressing a needle against Heather's right nipple. The nipple had moved until it could be pushed no more then the sharp point penetrated the flesh and Heather cried out. The pain was really minor compared to some of the exploding blows brought hard up against her sex. But there was something about having one's nipple pierced by a metal needle, something grotesque and horrible.
The needle had been sterilized in flame before and hadn't penetrated very far but Heather feared this treatment far more than she did the whipping and threats of hanging by her thumbs.
If only Brian had not have to sell her! And why did he sell her to such a terrible woman? Heather had honestly thought that Brian liked her. Oh, he had whipped her some and bound her up in terrible positions, and raped the hell out of her whenever he felt like it. But he hadn't been cruel to her. Not by the standards this woman set.
Heather went to sleep wondering if a woman can really take being whipped every day without serious bodily damage or going insane. Or both.
* * *
Surprising how much two little loops of leather can hurt. Especially when they are looped around your thumbs and then used to suspend your body in midair. Heather found out almost immediately how painful "hanging by your thumbs" can be as the chair she was standing on was pulled out from under her. There had been only a moment of warning as Katrina put her hand on the chair back but at least Heather had been able to pull down so her weight eased onto her thumbs instead of abruptly jerking down. She was sure that her thumbs would have been ripped out by their roots had she not been prepared when the chair went out. Katrina just laughed as if the whole thing was one big joke.
"Damn, you've got a nice body," Heather's new owner muttered as she walked around the hanging girl, eyeing the smooth curves and ample breasts. "Didn't think I would ever get me a girl this good."
"Please, Mistress. Let me down, this hurts something terrible," begged Heather. She knew she could stand the pain for the moment but it was the future that scared her. There had been some mention of hanging all day and the naked girl was sure that her thumbs would suffer severe damage if that were to happen.
"Hell, it can't hurt that much, gal."
"Yes, it does. Mistress. And I'm afraid my thumbs will be harmed if you leave me hanging very long."
"Well, ya, you might be right. Best I not leave you hanging all day, huh?" She laughed. "Tell you what. I'll let you down after only an hour. But it will cost you."
Heather sighed. There was no way to win with this woman. She simply wanted to hurt Heather, nothing else.
"Ya, I'll let you down. But you may not like what happens to you in place of this interesting little thing. Not at all."
"I will have to accept that," Heather said in as even a tone as she could muster. "I don't want my thumbs damage."
"Okay. See you in an hour." Suddenly Katrina was gone, leaving Heather with her toes a good two feet off the floor. Looking around, she found that there was nothing within reach of her feet. There had been a small hope that perhaps she could swing her legs around and find something she could use her feet to pull over to stand on. But there was nothing, the rings had been set into the ceiling in the center of the room. She sighed and closed her eyes. The pain was mostly an ache in her thumbs and hands. She quickly found out that any movement sent shooting pains through her thumbs so she hung as quietly as she could. It was a very long hour.
By the end of the hour Heather was becoming sure that there would be damage to her thumbs anyway. She had lost feeling in them and any slight movement of her body brought terrible pain. Having no clock to watch nor any other way of measuring the passage of time, she was sure that her ordeal had run far longer than one hour. It would not be hard to imagine Katrina cheating and leaving her far longer than promised. And chuckling to herself over it.
But relief did come. The chair was returned and she was helped down. When her hands lowered before her face Heather cried out. They were a dark purple-gray above where the leather loops were pressed deep into her flesh. Katrina was not gentle in removing the loops, which caused considerable pain for Heather. Almost immediately there came a throbbing and sharp pains as nerves awoke and screamed their anger at her. She cried at the returning circulation with its pins and needles and terrible tingle. For a long time she lay on the floor, hands laying useless in her lap as she cried.
Katrina's alternate punishment was almost as bad as hanging by thumbs. The naked Heather was dragged to a chair and bound tightly to it with ropes that were, if not carefully and neatly applied, at least damned tight. Escape was beyond question. With arms behind the back of the chair and legs together and tucked under the chair, Heather was almost completely immobile. She could have jerked her head around and wiggled fingers but not much else.
The rest of the punishment was unique and not at first obvious to Heather. Katrina dragged over a large block of ice and placed it on the floor directly in front of the bound girl. Then she brought out a pair of wicked looking little alligator clips, saw-toothed little clamps used in electrical work. The jaws of the clamps did resemble the jaws of an alligator, especially when you consider the sharpness of the tiny teeth. And the strength of the spring that held the jaws closed tight upon whatever was unfortunate enough to be between them. Twisted to the back end of each clip was a piece of wire. A short distance from the clips, the two wires merged into one.
"You gotta like this," assured Katrina with head nodding like a puppet. "This works real good at making a girl feel like screaming."
Heather stared with horrible fascination at the metal jaws, fearful that she knew all too well where they would be placed.
Katrina, grinning from ear to ear, opened the first clip and brought it close to Heather's left nipple. The sharp teeth scraped her tender flesh. Heather bit her lip to keep the moans within. She could not pull back from the horrid thing, the ropes held her body too firmly. Her nipple, rigid with fear, stuck out as if begging for the evil attentions of that metal monster. For a while Katrina contented herself to teasing the soft flesh with sharp pricks from the jaws. Then, suddenly as if tiring of threats, she put the nipple within the metal jaws and let them close.
Heather did scream. It was a high-pitched sound of torment. Her eyes closed hard and she clenched her teeth against the shooting pains in her nipple. "Oh, my god, please, get it off! It hurts!"
"Of course it does, sweetie! Meant to, you know."
"Ohhhh! Please! Get it off!" Heather's cries were ignored. Instead, Katrina opened the jaws of the other clip and teased the other nipple. The motion that clamped the jaws onto and into Heather's flesh was quick. "Arrrgggghhhh! That hurts! Oh, that hurts!"
Standing back, Katrina drank in the scene before her, wallowing in the look and sounds of pain in this beautiful woman. This was wonderful! Far better than she ever expected. Such a lovely creature, and completely under her power. She could go on hurting this woman forever!
It was a long time but Heather's pleas subsided until the girl was only panting hard. The tortured girl's eyes were closed as if not seeing such torment made it a little less painful.
"Open your eyes." The command wasn't loud but Heather obeyed. She was so afraid of this woman that she dared not disobey. "See this wire? I just pull it up and through the hook here. Then it hangs down here. See?" Katrina seemed to be taking great delight in explaining her torture to Heather as if she were a little child. "Now I put this weight on top of the ice, here."
The weight was a small bar bell of five pounds. It rested on top of the block of ice. Katrina wrapped the wire around the middle of the bar bell and twisted it closed. There was just enough tension in the wire for Heather to feel the clips tugging lightly at her nipples.
Still suffering from the pain of the clips, Heather did not at first see her great danger.
"Hot day, isn't it?" asked Katrina in a friendly manner. "Hot enough to melt most anything."
Then Heather saw. As the ice melted the bar bell would sink downward, pulling upon the wire. And that would pull on the clips attached to her nipples. It was a big block of ice, the weight had a long distance to go before coming to rest on the floor.
"Oh, no! Please don't do this to me! I haven't done anything to deserve this," Heather pleaded.
"Of course you haven't, sweetie. I just like to see you in pain."
"Why? Why do you want to hurt me?"
Katrina paused for a moment, a serious look on her face. Perhaps she was considering an honest answer to Heather's question. But if she honestly knew the answer or not was never disclosed. "Because it's fun!" was her reply.
"I'll be damaged. My nipple will be ripped off."
"No they won't. That ain't such a heavy weight. But it will hurt like hell. Maybe a clip will rip loose. And it might take a little skin with it. You could even help that happen by jerking your breasts. If you can. But then your other nipple would have to take all the weight. Probably better for you to just sit still and take it," was her final, sage advise.
Heather moaned. "I'll scream," she said weakly.
"I know. Ain't no one gonna hear you. And I like screaming. Go ahead."
Heather wanted to cry. Already there was a puddle of water around the ice block. And it was a hot day.
At the end of half an hour the clips were pulling her nipples upward and the pain was twice what it was before. Heather sat frozen in her chair, afraid to move lest a clip loosen enough to ripe her flesh. She almost cried at the thought of going through life with nipples ripped off. What would Brian think? How could she face herself in a mirror?
After an hour her nipples were distorted far beyond what she would have thought possible. But the metal clips held fast, their tiny teeth embedded deeply into human flesh. Heather was panting and moaning constantly.
At about an hour and ten minutes into her torture, the weight shifted on the ice block, adding a sudden small pull to the wire. Small though the shift might be, it was enough to evoke a full-throated scream from the tormented girl and a fresh barrage of pleas for mercy. But mercy was not in Katrina's make-up. She grinned and clapped her hands delightedly. This was great fun.
Heather was arching her back outward to the absolute limits of her bondage, projecting her breasts upward as much as possible. She was panting and moaning and sweating all over her body.
Katrina stopped laughing and stood gazing at the sight before her. Such a lovely naked female body straining so hard against the ropes. There was pain etched in ever line of her face and in every tense muscle in her body. It was gorgeous!
With a tiny thud the weight slipped off the last of the ice to rest upon the floor. The wire holding it to imprisoned nipples was taut with tension. For long minutes Heather held her body arched, tiny cried of pain escaping her lips until they grew into real screams. She pleaded and begged and screamed with an almost mindless agony. Then, with a loud cry of anguish, Heather reached her limit and jerked her body back to the seat. The cry turned to a scream as the metal clips departed tender flesh.
Katrina kneeled close to the bleeding nipples to get a good view. "They're scratched," she concluded. "But they're still there. I thought a nipple was tough enough to stand this. The clips just ripped out. Probably hurt some, though."
Katrina patted Heather on the shoulder. "That's quite a show you put on," she said. "We'll have to do this again sometime."
CHAPTER EIGHT - THE AUCTION BLOCK
The Brank was a distortion of ancient and modern. There were even electric push buttons by which it's occupant's discomfort could be easily controlled. The hapless girl who was to spend the day in it might have screamed and fought as she was led to punishment but remained mute because of the gag locked tight in her mouth. And the neatly tied cords around her wrist behind her back. Her elbows had been also secured with a four inch wide strap carefully adjusted upon her bare skin then drawn tighter and tighter. With delightful comments, her jailer had drawn the strap tighter another notch. Then another. And another. Each time the poor girl's arms began to get used to their new and painful position, the strap was pulled again and her elbows came even closer together. Finally her elbows and forearms were touching from elbow to wrist. Then yet another notch was forced on the strap so that it not only held her elbows together, it crushed them cruelly. It was a bad beginning.
Dawn Ryker knew herself guilty by the standards maintained by the dual personalities of Mr. Ed and Natasha. At the start she had not thought of asking for mercy, she had sinned and was now about to pay the price. But as her introduction the Brank progressed, her gagged mouth swallowed scream after scream and plea after plea. When Natasha punished a girl, she did it right.
Dawn was forced to stand upon a wooden box while her tightly bound arms were raised high to bring them over a smooth metal bar which, when a convenient button was pressed, rose enough to thrust itself into two armpits. Something in back was connected with bound hands and a relentless downward pull hinted to the helpless girl of what she might expect. She had from the start caught sight of what was, for her, the most frightening punishment of all-a magnificent dildo! To her wide eyes the rubber replica of a male phallus looked huge, far larger than any real male member she had ever seen. When it was covered with some kind of lubricant and brought near Dawn gasped behind her gag. Surely they didn't expect that huge thing to go inside her!
But the blunt nose of that monster was held up to nuzzle her pussy. It required careful twists and gentle thrusts to work its way upward, and Dawn could only gasp again and again as the impossible happened. When it was fully inside her, in position for the entire day, Dawn was standing on tip toes and feeling more completely helpless than she ever had in her life. It wasn't just that she couldn't move her arms, nor that she couldn't utter a word. It was more that these two women were doing things to her body and she had absolutely no control. She whined at the frustration and tried to spread her legs wider, as if that might ease the tight, full feeling inside her sex.
Thus impaled, she could only moan and moan again. Yet a tiny voice in the back of her mind muttered something about the ease with which the huge dildo had been inserted indicating a hot and wet pussy. Indeed, her body was reacting to the intruder as it might to any male member, with passion that started slowly but grew. The base of the dildo was hard pressed against her body and straps affixed to her waist and through her crotch, guaranteeing that the monster would stay in place.
But Dawn's bondage was not yet finished. The bar beneath Dawn's armpits slowly rose but her arms and hands remained tied to something below. Soon all her weight was resting upon the bar. When the wooden box was kicked away she hung in anguished helplessness, unable to move. It should have been finished but it was not.
A short metal cylinder, from which protruded numerous tiny metal spikes, was placed against the back of her thigh and her leg bend double until her heel was touching her bottom. A wide strap around her ankle and thigh locked it there. Her other leg was also bend with a spike-filled bar inside the folded leg. Now Dawn hung there with only stumps for legs, and those stumps hurting from many spikes embedding themselves in her soft flesh. She wanted to unbend her legs but could not.
This, too, should have been enough but was not the end of this punishment called the Brank. When Dawn say the little cage with the collar for her neck she remembered that the term brank used to apply to a punishment for nagging or gossiping wives, a metal cage that completely covered the head and usually held a metal ball inside the mouth as a gag. When the gag was taken from her mouth she pleaded but no one seemed to hear and soon half the cage was hard behind her head and the other half with its spiked ball at the end of a rod was closing slowly upon her face. She had no choice but to open her mouth to receive the metal horror which would remain inside there for the rest of the day. It was hateful and worse than the gag since it contained small spikes. The huge padlock used to lock the collar around her neck would had held a horse, let alone one already helpless girl.
A final adjustment to the bar was accompanied by an assurance of pain but not injury during the coming day. Each of her nipples was then tenderly kissed and she was left alone.
Miss Dawn Ryker found herself suspended in mid-air. Already her shoulders ached and she knew it would grow worse, much worse. The beastly cage enclosing her head was a heavy weight and a pain already. But with no support other than her slender neck, that weight would grow to be a major pain by itself. Her knees protested steadily the inserts and she was helpless to do anything with her legs. They simply hung there. Her arms hurt from the tight cords.
And there was that dildo packed tightly inside her. Already she could feel the unwanted heat and tingles it generated in that part of her body, a sure sign that her body was responding in a manner she did not wish. She hung motionless, hoping that the lack of movement would allow her pussy to calm down. She did not want it working itself up into a climax. The idea of having a climax while hanging in this terrible, tortuous position was shameful and repulsive.
But the damned thing was there and her body knew it. Very sensitive nerves sensed it and sent signals to her brain, informing it of supposed male intrusion. Parts of her brain listened and sent back signals to excite her body and force it to take part of the sexual act it thought was happening. Slowly her body heated up as Dawn fought to suppress natural reactions.
Constantly her tongue tried to push out that metal ball within her mouth but it was forced by painful spikes to do no more than explore the little it could of the ball. It seemed awkward and strange to have to hold her mouth half open but necessary. The metal ball with its spikes could not be clamped down upon, nor could it be pushed out. Dawn found herself with lips parted and jaw feeling funny from the unusual position. She could only hold her head still.
Time passed. But inside her cage prison and painful bondage time had little meaning to this lovely, naked woman. After the passage of centuries, Natasha came to inform her prized possession she had been suspended as she was for only a couple of hours with many hours yet to go. Dawn moaned. Natasha gently stroked taut breasts and patted the helpless pussy with the intruder within. She spoke casually of the weather and the benefits of better behavior Dawn would undoubted derive from her session with the Brank.
"I'm sure you'd much rather be fastened in those double stocks you pretended to hate so much, darling," she said. "But we mustn't get into a rut with your punishments. This one will teach you that there is always something worse. Of course, in a couple of weeks your skin will clear enough so that I can whip you again. You're such a lucky girl."
The Brank had prevented Dawn uttering a single word. Dismally she watched her mistress depart and wondered if, after a while, all the places that now hurt would get numb and go to sleep. Somehow she doubted it, this torture was designed too well to allow a girl to escape any of the torment. She had ceased all efforts to escape because they simply hurt and got her nowhere. But in her mind she vowed over and over to be a good slavegirl and not earn punishment ever again. She would be a good girl.
Time to the tortured has little meaning-it crawls. And the suffering stretched out as an endless vista of agony. Her mouth was sealed against complaint but should anyone come near her eyes were eloquent. During her visit, Natasha had offered no sign of sympathy, only a cheerful casualness that contrasted with the seriousness of her torture. Natasha's second appearance was much like her first. The pastel pink cigarette burned at the end of her ivory holder and her greeting was ultra casual. "Darling, you look absolutely exquisite! That cage your head is locked in may not do much for your looks but I can tell it teaches you a valuable lesson. You can nod if I'm correct but I have to suppose you're making good resolutions."
Even though it hurt, Dawn nodded vigorously. Her head was about the only part of her she could move but the weight and spiked bail of the brank made that painful.
Natasha took a long drag on her cigarette then held the glowing tip close enough to Dawn's left nipple for the bound girl to feel it's heat. Her eyes widened as the cigarette went from breast to breast without actually touching the skin. But sweat beaded on Dawn's brow at the thought of that terrible heat actually touching, actually burning her tender flesh.
The cigarette and its holder returned to Natasha's lips. "Have you had an orgasm yet, darling?" she asked casually.
Dawn managed a slight shake of her head. She had been close to it but had fought off the shaming act for as long as she could. Yet there had been times when she felt her body close to orgasm, very close. Only the fear that someone would come in and witness her shame held her back. Dawn sucked in her breath. This question from Natasha was awaking her body yet again, bringing warmth to her sex. Perhaps it was the attitude on Natasha's part, an attitude that simply said an orgasm was expected and a normal part of the punishment of a girl bound up in this Brank thing.
She avoided Natasha's eyes. She did not want to even admit that she felt an excitement, a sexual response to her body being tortured. She tried not to move a muscle, fearful that movement would shift that huge phallus inside her pussy and reawaken nerves she had worked so hard to ignore. She would not be brought to an orgasm by this horrible torture, and especially not in front of Natasha. Her resolve was firm even though a part of her screamed for sexual climax to release her for some of the pain.
It happened swiftly and without warning. Natasha uttered a disgusted, "Oh, shit!" and then grabbed a large breast protruding at her. She kneaded the breasts, working the taunt nipple in her fingers. Dawn began moaning despite her best efforts to ignore the stimulation of her sexual parts. Natasha stood close to the hanging girl and clamped one hand over an ass cheek, digging in the fingernails until Dawn cried out and jerked. From that point the battle was hopeless as Dawn's body responded with an excitement bottled up inside her. Quickly her hips were thrusting against the body in front of her and she was whining within the metal brank gag.
As suddenly as she had grabbed Dawn, Natasha released the nude girl and stood back. Dawn cried out and her body arched forward, ignoring the pain of stressed arms and burning legs. She struggled wildly against her bonds but it lasted only a minute then she went rigid, every muscle in her body tense, as she crashed into the unwanted climax. A strangled cry echoed around the room as the young girl's body trembled repeatedly with ecstasy.
Natasha watched with an amused smile on her lips. This girl was wonderful. She had actually avoided having a climax until Natasha had helped! That was incredible. No girl she had every strung up in the Brank had lasted more than half an hour before that huge dildo inside had driven them to climax. Some girls had orgasmed even as the phallus was being driven into their pussy, crying out and jerking their hips up and down on the rubber tool. But this girl had held out. Perhaps Natasha should have let her go another hour. Would she have finally lost out to the rubber phallus? Would her had jerked and climaxed while alone and hung up? Maybe, Natasha thought, I'll but her in the Brank another day and left her to see. Natasha left without a word, leaving Dawn in her shameful but wonderful afterglow of sexual climax.
Half an hour later the glow was over and the pain was back in full force. Half an hour after that, quite without help, Dawn's pussy began warming up. Within minutes she was jerking in mid-air and dancing a strange dance of ecstasy amid muted cries of pleasure. There were two more climaxes that afternoon before Natasha came back to release the tortured girl, a release that was three hours early than had been planed for even in Natasha's black heart there was pity for the suffering of this beautiful girl.
It took ten minutes to get Dawn down and free of ropes. The spiked cylinders rolled across the floor as her legs unfolded. Her arms hung limp at her sides when the cords were unpeeled from deep within the flesh. And she cried as the huge dildo was slowly pulled out of her sheath.
Natasha took the tortured girl in her arms and kissed her gently. Last to be removed was the hated iron cage of the brank itself but she seemed to not be aware of its presence. The pain and fire of returning circulation in her legs and arms drove out thoughts of all else. When the tiny cage was carefully taken off, her lips and tongue were so parched and stiff she could say no word. But so great was her gratitude that she placed her head with its mop of lovely hair upon the foot of the woman who had set her free and whispered over and over, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll never be a naughty girl again."
It was comforting to be cradled like a child. Dawn Ryker wept in relief as Natasha sat upon the floor and cradled Dawn's head between her breasts. The mistress almost seemed to be sorry she had subjected Dawn to such torment. And, in truth, she had never left a girl hung up in the Brank for longer than four hours before this day. She was sure the poor girl had been suffering something terrible.
Dawn would have forgiven Natasha anything at that moment and cared little for the pain of returning circulation. When her limbs once more had feeling she was led from the punishment room with a supporting arm around her waist. They went up the stairs to the lounge where a sniffer half filled with brandy was thrust between Dawn's free hands. She drank deeply, coughing and sputtering but feeling better. When the glass was empty she returned it to Natasha, then offered her two hands. "You've forgotten to handcuff me, Natasha," she said simply. "Or do you want them behind my back?"
Dawn was kissed and, instead of handcuffs, her fingers received a second drink which she sipped more slowly while her mistress laughed. "You silly little goose, you couldn't run away if you tried. Enjoy having your hands for a little while. It's the lease I can do."
For a while they were silent, one contemplating the suffering she had caused a beautiful woman, the other vowing silently to never be bad again.
The next day Natasha hinted to Dawn that there was a job she could do for Natasha but she wouldn't tell what it was, only that she would find out as it happened. "If you need help or information, you can ask Stephanie," she told Dawn.
Dawn know only one thing, simply that she was free and would not have to be punished that day. To escape the Brank was a good feeling. Whatever this job was it could not be worse than that punishment. She wore the handcuffs that day but did not mind them.
It was Stephanie who took Dawn Ryker to the big, bare stone chamber with its barred windows which gave much light but no view of the outside. Laughing and refusing explanations, Stephanie took the handcuffs from limp wrists to cross them instead behind their owner's back and tie them there very tightly with the thin cord. Much care was taken to make the knots tight and out of reach of the fingers. Dawn did not complain or even much care. Compared to the Brank, this was almost a joy. Besides, a girl was Natasha's prisoner was not supposed to have her hands free.
When Stephanie had planted a kiss and went away she left Dawn with an assurance that the naked and bound girl would not be alone for long. First the first time in her captivity Dawn failed to twist and struggled against her bound wrists. Instead she found a place against the wall and slipped down to a sitting position against the wall. It was nice to be so free. Soon she slept.
The opening of the massive door was accompanied by a laughter and expostulation from two feminine voices. The laugher the huge door slammed shut again to bring Dawn to wakefulness. She had to gasp at what she saw. Standing and looking at her with obvious sympathy was an extremely beautiful girl who's wrists were tied behind her back as were Dawn's. The difference was that this new girl was working hard in a useless attempt to free her hands.
"I suppose you're another of us. I was kidnapped a few hours ago." The blonde girl seemed to be talking out of nervousness. "They threw me in a van and drove me a long ways while I lay on the floor all tied up. Then they dragged me here. Did they kidnap you too?"
Dawn instantly realized this was one of the new batch of girls Natasha had spoken of. Awkwardly she struggled erect. "I've been a prisoner a long time," she said by way of greeting. "Almost a month. I'm afraid I've become used to it. You might as well stop chaffing your wrists like that. We can't get free. I've given up trying."
"Well, I'm not going to give up trying," she newcomer said savagely. "The whole thing is crazy. Just look at me, I'm stark naked! I've been kidnapped. And this looks like a dungeon! That's crazy. And those guys didn't even seem to care that I was naked! Men just don't act like that." She paused, panting with emotion. "Do you want to clue me in on the whole scene? If it's ransom they're looking for, they've got the wrong girl."
"You've been captured so you can be sold," said Dawn simply. The other girl gasped but could say nothing. "You'll get some training and be sold at auction, probably quite soon."
"You have to be kidding!"
"No, that's what it's all about. You'll be sold to some guy who will take you home and keep you prisoner. You'll always be tied or chained so you can't escape. And you'll be punished if you try to escape."
"Why the hell would any guy want to buy a girl for!"
"Why do you think?" Dawn said quietly. "Naked and helpless girls are a great attraction to a man. Surely I don't have to tell you what it is men do to girls."
"I don't believe a word of it. You're making it up!"
"I'm sorry, but it's true. I've been here a long time because the owner of the business took a fancy to me. I'm kept a prisoner here as a sort of pet. And as far as I can see I'll never get away. I'm just beginning to get adjusted to the idea."
"I suppose all those marks on your skin helped the adjustment," she said sarcastically.
"That's right. Being whipped changes a girl considerably. I'm no way near the same girl who was kidnapped. It will be the same with you but the trouble is it has to happen to a girl before she believes it."
"I'll never believe it." The newcomer was eying Dawn suspiciously. "Are you sure this isn't someone's idea of a practical joke? Or do I get gang-banged this evening at a party before being sent home."
Before Dawn had a chance to answer a second nudity was thrust into the stone chamber and the door slammed behind her back. She was blonde and pretty with a figure to match her companion. Her hands were tied in the same way and she was struggling against the ropes until her attention was diverted to the two girls already in the chamber.
"I haven't seen you before. Do you know anything about what goes?" Dawn now understood Natasha's meaning about a job to do. She would talk to these girls and fill them in on the rules of the house. And perhaps help calm them down. She sighed but wanted to laugh at how serious these girls were and how they were so embarrassed and angry at being naked. If they refused to believe a word she said, it really didn't not matter to her. But her voice must have carried conviction for little by little the facts sank into these two girls.
Their questions centered on when they would be raped and what were the possibilities of escape.
Two more hapless maidens were added to Natasha's inventory that morning and Dawn was busily explaining the uselessness of working at the ropes. She was regarded with increased respect when all attempts to free themselves failed. When the door opened again it was Stephanie alone. She looked over her collection of tied beauties with an amused grin before telling Dawn her presence was required elsewhere. She walked from the chamber, aware of four sets of eyes upon her back. Then the door slammed on the prisoners.
Stephanie laughed and said, "You're going to love this one, sweetheart. Come downstairs and be locked in the cell for a change."
The euphoria of release from the awful Brank still held Dawn in its grip. If Natasha wanted to kidnap and sell some more girls, the outrageous act now seemed quite normal and conducive to laugher she and Stephanie could share. Mention of the cell had brought nothing to her mind until the actual arrival at the barred entrance to the tiny prison. Dawn looked through its bars to where a single naked young woman stood busily engaged in trying to free her hands from cords behind her back. She was blonde and petite and fully up to the perfection of figure Natasha determinedly maintained. When the cell door had opened and closed to leave Dawn a second prisoner within, Wendy Harridence ceased her battle with her bonds to turn and exclaim in pure rapture, "Oh, Dawn, isn't this simply wild! I've been kidnapped!"
They kissed and rubbed breasts and Dawn then had a difficult time convincing her companion she had not known about her kidnapping all along. "Natasha said it would be a good idea but I had not thought of her really doing it. Wendy, dear, are you quite sure you enjoy being naked and tied and locked in a cell? I doubt very much if you're going to get to go home this evening. You may be every bit as much a prisoner as I am."
"I love it," Wendy breathed heavily. "Natasha's a darling to have this done to me. Look, dear, is there any possibility of my getting my hands loose or should I stop trying?"
"You may as well stop trying. There's no chance. I've tried."
"Yummy, yummy!" Mrs. Wendy Harridence drew in a lingering breath of pure joy. "I'm going to have the most wonderful time! My pussy is hot and wet already! Isn't it just wonderful to know you can't get your hands untied! That they're going to stay tied behind your back until some else does something about it. I mean, it makes everything so real! So much better than wearing a pair of handcuffs at teatime just for fun. You do understand, don't you, Dawn?"
"Sure, I understand. I'm affected a little bit in the same way. But nowhere near as intense as you get. Are you sure it's going to last?"
"It's lasted with you, hasn't it?"
Dawn had a sudden, vivid memory of the Brank and said cautiously, "Well, yes, I suppose it has. But there are some things that happen to a prisoner that hurt so bad you forget all about hot pants. And the magic disappears. Really, Wendy, if Natasha offers to let you go back to your husband, you shouldn't hesitate. Just go."
Dawn paused briefly to laugh at the happiness evident on the face of this young girl who didn't know when she was good off. "But I don't think Natasha will let you go. She thinks you're really like that and always will be. So you might as well enjoy the full treatment. What I mean is she'll have you whipped and then sell you to one of her male clients. And you know what he'll do to you."
It was useless to argue or try to reason. At that moment Wendy Harridence was the happiest of girl and, despite being told not to bother, continued to struggled against the ropes holding her wrists. When Stephanie came to lead her to the other prisoners, she happily sought this new adventure without a qualm. Stephanie, playing it safe, had grasped a handful of the lovely blonde curls and shook them to demand obedience. But when the happy maiden made not demand and no complain and, indeed, almost lead her captor from the cell. One would never guess that she was going to a far heavier captivity than she had yet experienced.
Dawn watched them go and shivered a bit. Since Stephanie had left the barred door open, she left the cell to search for her mistress. She had it in her mind to give a full report in hopes that Natasha might have a change of mind about this lovely and sexy, although innocent, young thing. Dawn had serious doubts that Wendy would remain so joyful about her captivity after spending the day in the Brank. No woman could.
In considering this possibility, Dawn was shocked at how distasteful was the idea of the sweet and innocent Wendy being sold on the auction block and carried away by some strange man for tortures and degrading. All Dawn wanted right then was to the beloved plaything of the woman who was her owner. She remembered how abject she had been upon her release from the awful Brank. And the way she had clutched at Natasha's feet in a mixture of total gratitude and joy. Perhaps the mistress had seen this as a sign of a broken spirit and might now be satisfied that her prisoner was properly conditioned. Dawn did not know and did not care. Contentedly with hands bound behind her, she went in search of the woman who owned her.
But Natasha had not qualms about Wendy Harridence at all and was prepared to get whatever pleasure she could from that shinning-eyed young girl. She would make an excellent plaything for Paul Semple. If only the man had enough sense to purchase her.
"There's only one thing I feel the least bit guilty about," the mistress confided to Dawn, "and that's having to have the poor thing whipped. I'll whip the rest of them, of course. But we'll put her up for auction with a clear skin. We'll see if she fetches enough money to make her kidnapping worth while. If not, we'll have to whip her. A marked girl will bring more money every time. Go and tell Stephanie to bring the little darling to the lounge. You can get tea since it's not too late in the afternoon. We can have a little chat."
Dawn's wrists were untied and secured in front with shining handcuffs so she could serve the tea.
"Darling, I can't thank you enough," Wendy uttered as she knelt at Natasha's feet. "The way you've had my hands tied is super-duper marvelous. But I still envy Dawn's handcuffs. Aren't they sweet the way she does things?"
"You'll get plenty of handcuffs, you little idiot," Natasha said severely. "Dawn will feed you tea. Then, if you like, I'll let you go home to Brewster. Would you like that?"
"Oh, no! You mustn't, you simply mustn't," she wailed. "You've only just had me kidnapped and I've been having such fun exchanging stories with those girls you locked me up with. Please don't send me home." Dawn was busily engaged with the serving process. Then she had to feed and offer the cup to Wendy who's wrists were still tied behind her back.
Natasha continued, "Very well, darling, if you don't wish to go home after tea, you won't go home at all. How does that grab you?"
"It makes me so happy I could cry."
"Really, you're impossible, Wendy!" The mistress' rebuke was not really sincere. "Since that's what you've chosen, dear, you'll be auctioned off along with the rest. Don't tell me that pleases you, too."
"But it does! It does! I'll positively pop when I'm up there on the block and you're asking for bids. I will be naked for all those men to see me?"
"Of course. The man like that. I'll tell you straight, Wendy darling, I'm going to extract every dollar I can out of auctioning you off to the highest bidder. If the amount of the highest bid doesn't satisfy me, you'll be kept prisoner here until I get more girls and we do it all over again. The second time I'll make quite sure you're beautifully whip marked."
"Oh, goody!"
"Don't be silly. There is nothing good about being whipped after the first few strokes. You'll hate it the same as the rest of them. Perhaps that will change your decision not to go home after tea."
Dawn longed to tell the innocent to escape enslavement while she had the chance. But vivid memory of the Brank and the double stocks held her tongue. She busied herself with the tea things while Natasha continued.
"I'm having the other four girls whipped this evening. You may as well watch so you'll know what it's all about. This won't be a small whipping, a token. This will be a heavy whipping to really get a good effect upon their skins. You understand? Do you think you can handle it?"
There should have been hesitation but there was none. Wendy's eyes glowed more than ever and Dawn felt certain the pretty girl was flashing through fantasies in which the whip marked her from neck to toes. Painlessly, and with love, it would in her fantasy. In her present frame of mind it would be hopeless to argue with her. Wendy was going to have to be like any other prisoner and learn with the help of pain. Until a girl had actually been whipped, the whole idea was difficult to comprehend. With herself it had seemed abstract, something that might happen to others but could never happen to her. The handcuffed girl sighed and lifted another sandwich to Wendy's lips.
It was the same room where Dawn had received her first whipping. Immediately Wendy noticed the ring bolts in the ceiling. Wendy had no doubts what they were for. She and Dawn were attached by a single handcuff connecting their wrists. Their other hands were attached to the wall to render them completely helpless while standing to watch the punishment Wendy Harridence might or might not get. Wendy was sending out excited vibrations in waves. Being chained to her was like having to endure a weak electric current all the time. The young girl's eyes were bright with excitement at a sight which would have caused others anguish.
In a row across the room the four girls who were to be whipped hung upside down in suspension from their ankles, in each case those ankles had been fastened well apart to the ring bolts high up on the ceiling. All had their hands free from all restraint, not that it did them a bit of good. They were helpless. Four backs were facing Dawn and Wendy, four backs ready to be whipped until their owners screamed out in agony. The chamber was alive with sounds of pain and complaint, often all four of the hanging girls talking at the same time. They each offered reasons why they should be hung thus but none dared share the thought that those leather thonged whips on the wall might be used upon their bodies.
When Wendy breathed, "Doesn't it positively curl your spine?" Dawn was able to agree but from a different point of view. All she felt was sympathy.
Natasha and Stephanie each armed themselves with a riding crop. Evidently girlish bottom would first of all receive the marks so highly valued by the opposite sex. As the black leather things swished and impacted upon maiden skin. Dawn realized that being hung upside down make a girl every bit as available to this form of punishment as suspension by her wrists. Girls were amazingly adaptable.
The huge room soon filled with sound, a quite fresh sound from the nervous conversation. It was now a symphony of moans, gasps and loud cries bordering upon screams. Obviously the four new girls had never previously been whipped and shock outweighed the simple pain of a crop kissing their rounded curves with snapping cuts they found hard to believe. Natasha and Stephanie went up and down the line, impacting their crops where ever they found virgin skin. But soon the founds of maiden anguish grew altogether too loud, making Natasha drop her crop and say, irritably, "Stephanie, get the gags. I'm not going to put up with this racket for an hour."
"An hour!" Four female protests echoed in the chamber. No doubt they had considered their painful initiation a matter of just a few strokes and no more than a few minutes. Now the concept of such pain extending over an hour was too much for them to bear. Perhaps none of them had believed that the purpose of this whipping was to thoroughly mark up their skins with marks that would not fade in a day but linger on to excite male eyes. Now they began to believe. They protested and wailed. And, when they caught sight of the huge gags, even more protests.
"You mustn't put those things in our mouths, we'll die!"
"Please don't gag me, I don't want to be gagged. I'll be good."
"Don't you dare!"
And, from the smallest and meekest girl, "I don't think I'll like that." The pathetic complaints were ignored. Stephanie and her mistress busied themselves with mouths until all were sealed and tight secured. The room was much more quiet. The scene before them, with its heavy dose of real pain, must have begun to break through Wendy's innocence for she uttered her first complaint, "I don't think I'd like having one of those things in my mouth, Dawn. Would I have to?"
"If you have to be whipped, you'd be thankful it stops you from making a lot of shameful noises. Don't worry, the decision probably won't be yours."
The suspended nudes were wicked open. When the riding crops had marked each bottom with scarlet and purple, Natasha and her assistant moved on to the use of the leather thong, both on the back and on the front. Youth bodies jerked and twisted around in vain attempts to avoid the slashes. But a hanging girl can only move so much and many targets were solidly impacted with the leather so that each girl wore an increasing number of vivid red marks. Muffled screams escaped gagged mouths but was more of a gentle chorus to accompany the ballet of Natasha and Stephanie moving with grace and ease among the suspended bodies to touch here and there with fiery pain. With careful attention to their task, the mistress and Stephanie steadily diminished areas of virgin skin.
When Stephanie and Natasha finally stepped back, arms tired, the four girls hung limp and exhausted from effort and pain. Both were sweating from their efforts.
Wendy whispered to Dawn that Brewster would never approve of such treatment of innocent young girls.
One by one the bodies were lowered to the floor and wrists handcuffed behind backs. Then Natasha and Stephanie left, undoubtedly to take a shower and perhaps pour a good long drink after such hard work. They apparently forgot about Dawn and Wendy.
The whipped maidens were decided subdued, moving cautiously and striving with fastened hands to touch the most painful of their wounds, they were obviously uncertain as to whether Dawn and the girl to whom she was chained were enemies or friends. But Dawn's somber prophecy was born out in as much as none of the four was the same girl as she had been when first made prisoner. The whip and the crop had imposed their wicked magic to cause each captive to think twice before she said a single word. The appeared to regard the handcuffs behind their backs as a lowering of social status. They noted the manner in which Dawn and Wendy were fastened together and to the wall.
"How come the two of you didn't get whipped?" The young voice was heavy with reproof.
"You must be friends of the family to get away with just standing like you are. I hope you enjoyed yourselves."
"Maybe they're going to get the same as we got but not until tomorrow. Now that they've watched us they can think about it all night."
"What does it matter?" said the last voice. "We can't get out of this place and neither can they. And the way they're chained like us doesn't look like their family."
Dawn told them what she could and explained Wendy's status, an explanation greeted with disbelief. But it was not long before the handcuffs were unlocked from the two standing girl. Dawn and Wendy found themselves again handcuffed behind their backs. Wendy, as part of the inventory, was left with her four companions, all of whom were to be sold the following day. Dawn was taken upstairs for dinner with her mistress. Thinking of the whipped girls left behind, it seemed terribly unkind but when she recalled the Brank and stocks felt less sorry for those girls downstairs. She had paid her dues.
There is an excitement about an auction few can resist. Mr. Ed was the auctioneer while Stephanie dragged angry or tearful maidens to the block. Dawn was simply one of the crowd to wander as she pleased with hands behind her back. Since the girls to be auctioned were clad in a simple white sheet until that final, fatal moment, it was Dawn who got most of the attention and she would have left the auction room to avoid the pinches and probes had not her curiosity gotten the better of her. She wished to witness a fate she had once thought hers but had been wrong. She remembered being auctioned off but it was a sham auction, Mr. Ed had arranged it to keep her for himself.
To the males present the auctioneer was a familiar Mr. Ed, none even suspicious as to "his" secret identity, although there were a few who openly questioned his preference of sexual partners. After all, few men wear pointed suede shoes, silky pants, ruffled blouses, smoked a pale yellow cigarette through an ivory holder, and could call themselves All- Man.
Each girl was stripped as their turn came to mount the small stage, then turned this way and that to exhibit both the form of the girl and the marks freshly placed upon it. Each girl had been forewarned to stand erect and stick their breasts out for male approval. Sulkiness or other bad behavior had been warned against with a promise of very dire punishment. Each girl behaved as if sold was no terrible thing but something she looked forward to. At least they all smiled, even if a the smiles were a little forced.
Wendy Harridence was kept to the last.
Wendy did not sell. Watching the progress of the auction Dawn could well understand why. Compared to the colorful stripes and cunning markings on female skin, poor Wendy's was pale. When the sheet was stripped from her there was no general gasp of admiration as there had been before. The girls already purchased had been taken away to be packaged for delivery to their new owners. And so Wendy would not suffer from the comparison of prices. She stood upon the block, stricken in dismay as ME moved her around, bent her forward and bent her back without too much in the way of bidding. Eventually she was withdrawn from sale to be led out of sight by a sympathetic Stephanie. The clients chatted for a while over whiskey before leaving. They all asked ME to place a price on Dawn but were laughed at.
Stephanie had taken Wendy to the office to await judgment. She had thoughtfully placed handcuffs upon the slender ankles to inhibit any notion Wendy might have had to stray. But the rejected young woman was sitting dejectedly to await Natasha's return. "They're a rotten bunch of bastards," Wendy sobbed upon Natasha's shoulder. "If they want a girl whipped half to death, they must also be a bunch of sadists." She paused before venturing a fresh idea. "How would it be, Natasha, darling, if you keep me the same way as you keep Dawn? She's a lovely pet, isn't she? You can do whatever you please with me, the same as you do with her."
The simple innocence was touching. Dawn wanted to cry while Natasha gently patted the back and bottom of a girl who had not found favor on the block. "Don't take on so," she counseled wisely. "I'll take those handcuffs off your ankles so you can wander around with Dawn. But what you have do remember is that you're going to try again and next time things will be different. You'll sell for sure."
"But I didn't sell this time. Those men must have been a bunch of eunuchs."
"I'll soon get another assignment of kidnapped girls. But we don't really have to wait of that, I can probably sell you privately. I'll try to do that. Are you sorry you didn't go back to Brewster?"
To the tearful young woman who's ankles were now freed the question seemed absurd. "With these lovely handcuffs," she explained, "the men might have thought me not worth a bid. But to belong to you and to be kept in chains is right out of this world! I've sorry if I sounded ungrateful." She rattled the handcuffs behind her back. "You see, darling, you've still got me helpless. I belong to you just the same as Dawn."
"But if I'm to sell you, dear, you've got an unpleasant ordeal to endure. Think you can handle it?"
"Oh, you mean being whipped?" Wendy disposed of the awaiting ordeal with a laugh. "Do you really and truly mean I'd sell if I was covered in whip marks like those other girls?"
"Of course I mean it, and I told you about it before. We can do it tomorrow, if you like."
Once more Wendy was surprised. "Tomorrow, just like that!" she exclaimed as though doubting her ears. "Hung upside down and whipped with two kinds of whips! Oh, darling, would you really do that!"
"Of course, I mean it, you silly girl. Stop worrying, we'll get you sold." The voice of the mistress was kind. "I don't want to have you whipped any more than you want yourself. Although from the sound of your voice I've a notion you're getting wet between your legs from the thought of it. Want me to feel?"
"Of course, darling! I've scared to death on one hand and loving the thought of it on the other. Dawn's been whipped and those other girls were whipped terribly. If they can stand it, I'm sure I can."
"Very well, dear, I've got a couple of prospects who ought to fall in love with you at first sight. I think it will be best to whip you the day after tomorrow so as to have your markings in prime condition." Natasha sighed. "If the meantime I suppose I ought to keep you amused. I'll allow you to have Dawn with you in the cell tonight and she'll tell you what it's like to be whipped. Or to sit in the stocks. Or the Brank. That way we can fill up your time tomorrow and keep you interested. Or would simply keeping you handcuffed and let you wander around be enough? I'd make you wear leg irons, of course, to keep you from thinking about going home to Brewster. Stephanie will take care of you."
Dawn would far sooner have spent the night in bed with her mistress even though Natasha always thought up something awkward and uncomfortable as the price she had to pay for the warmth of a female body while asleep. But she good-naturedly made no complaint about sleeping on a hard wooden bench. She went to find Stephanie to make the quite incredible request with the result that in a few minutes a pair of utterly dissimilar young women were locked naked in a cell. Not only were their wrists in handcuffs but their ankles, too, were closely ironed by the same lovely silver as their bracelets. Natasha did things right and this quaint condition most forcible brought home to Dawn the fact that she was a prisoner and likely to remain so all her life.
As might be expected, Wendy was not only a bundle of curiosity but a highly sexual package of woman. Natasha had been wise enough to lock the new girl's hands behind her back while, at the same time, leaving Dawn's bracelets in front. Under the pressure of pleadings, she used this comparative freedom to ease her companion's sexual need. Wendy was already pretty well primed when Dawn first touched her and it didn't take an expert lesbian to work her up to a moaning, gasping climax or two. This one-sided adventure into orgasm was a prelude to their night.
Wendy was a delightful package who worked steadily at twisting and turning against her chains, explaining blissfully that this exercise was not so much intended to seek freedom but to assure herself freedom was not possible. Being a prisoner herself, Dawn could understand but refused to join in. Instead she asked seriously, "Wendy, about tomorrow, do you really want to be punished that way? If I were you, I'd settle for just handcuffs and leg irons."
"You're too conservative. Gosh, I'm not going to give up this wonderful opportunity to experience something I've wanted all my life."
"You just think you want it. You'll hate it when it's happening."
"I don't believe you, darling. I'll bet you loved every minute of it. Look, why don't we ask Natasha to punish us both at the same time in the same way. We could have lovely talks all day long."
"That's what you think. We'd both be gagged."
"All right then, but, Dawn, darling, please tell me which of the punishments I ought to chose? Which one is the worst?"
"The worst!? Good gosh, girl, you're not going to chose the worst, are you?" Dawn was still sore in places from the Brank. "Have you forgotten that you're going to be whipped the following day to raise your price? Damn it, Wendy, go easy on yourself."
Young eyes glowed-she was seeing visions. "Those stocks things a girl gets locked in, they're not all that bad, are they?"
"Not for the first hour. After that they get worse and worse until you're ready to scream. But you can't scream because you're gagged. I hated it."
"Well, I don't want to rattle around the house being chained the way I am right now." Wendy sounded as if she were defending her most basic rights. "These things I'm locked in now are simply wonderful for the night in this cell. And I do love this cell with those beautiful iron bars and stone walls. By the way, darling, someone's forgotten our bed. Will Stephanie bring us something to sleep on?"
"No, she won't. We're going to have to sleep on this hard bench. I've done it before and it's not the least bit erotic. Are you sure you want this kind of treatment?"
Wendy's ardor was dampened as she surveyed the night. There was nothing erotic about a hard wooden bench but she sighed joyously and rattled her handcuffs as if in defiance of a temporary set back. "If you play with me a couple more times, I could sleep on the stone floor," she declared. 'Too bad we're not lesbians because then I could look after you, too."
"Never mind all that," Dawn said crossly. "In the morning you'll have to chose a punishment." Mischievously she added, "Probably the Brank is the best thing for you, after all. It was too much for me but it's right down your alley." With relish the experienced prisoner explained to the novice what the Brank was and what it did to you. Totally absorbed in a rainbow dream, Wendy listened with intent to the graphic details then insisted upon hearing of them again. She was not deterred at all. Surprisingly, while Dawn was still talking, Wendy went to sleep. Longing for a softer bed, Dawn did the same.
CHAPTER NINE - ESCAPE!
Heather lay almost on the floor in what, for a girl in Katrina's grasp, was a mild punishment. The naked girl was tied by her hands to a ring at the base of one wall, the hands being together and above her head. Her ankles were also tied together and to another ring on the opposite wall. What made this bondage uncomfortable was the belt around her middle. After Heather had been laid on her back on the floor and tied stretched out, a leather belt had been buckled tight around her waist. Then a rope was tied to that belt and up to a ring in the ceiling. From there it went down to yet another ring in a third wall. There it had been tied but not before Katrina had pulled with all of her considerable strength to raise Heather's body off the floor. Like an archery bow she was strung taunt between the rings, only her hair hanging down to touch the floor.
It hurt. But there was less pain than she had experienced the day before from those tiny alligator clips. And less pain than she had experienced while hanging by her thumbs. And less pain than from Katrina's leather thongs dancing over her body. So she lay quietly in her bondage and was thankful Katrina hadn't come up with something worse.
She had been stung up a couple of hours before and left by her owner with a promise of some special torture that afternoon. But Heather paid little attention to it. When Katrina was your owner, there was always torture, torture, more torture and pain.
Within Heather there was a woman seriously wondering how long she could take this type of treatment and retain her sanity. Perhaps Katrina would eventually tire of hurting Heather and slow down. But so far the large woman seemed an endless source of torture ideas and plans. She drank up pain like a sponge, basked in it. But only so long as it was some one else's pain. Part of Heather still vowed to someday escape and extract vengeance but that part was a little weaker with each act of torment against her naked and helpless body. Surely no one could last out for long against this. And there was the chance that this mad woman would one day go too far and seriously injure her slave.
Suddenly Heather was aware of a presence and opened her eyes. It was Katrina, standing over her body on wide spread legs. She was grinning.
"Had a nice little rest? Good. Got me an idea so I went down to the ice house and bought another block of ice. See over there?" She waved towards the comer of the room where a block of ice and a bar bell waited. Then she held up an alligator clip with a wire attached. "I figure if your nipples were sensitive, there should be someplace else that is even more sensitive."
Heather swallowed hard. This mad woman couldn't be thinking of that.
But she was. Fingers worked their way into her pubic patch and spread apart the lips covering her clitoris. A finger stroked the sensitive area and Heather jerked her head from side to side. She tried to shake her body sideways to get those fingers out of her private place but Katrina's strong legs clamped against her hips and held her firmly.
"Sweet little pussy. I got something for you." Heather could see Katrina open the clip and its sharp teeth gleaming in the light. The clip lowered towards her pussy and disappeared from her sight.
Heather bit her lips and began panting fast in apprehension of the coming pain, sure that she wouldn't be able to stand it. This time she would go insane.
"Nice little pussy," intoned her tormentor. Heather could feel the sharp little teeth on both sides of her very tender flesh. In a second they would close and bring Heather more pain than she ever could imagine.
The clip jaws closed and Heather screamed loudly. And screamed again. And again. The pain was indescribable. Fire shot through her loins, bringing more pain than any girl should have to feel. Heather went on screaming, unaware for a long time that the clips had been removed. When she finally became aware that the pain had changed to a dull ache, her cries descended to pitiful moans. Where there had been lightning bolts of pain there was now an ache. And gone was the feeling of legs clamping tightly against her hips.
Slowly her eyes opened to the incredible sight of Brian's face filling her vision. She whined and lost consciousness.
"Is that really you?" was her first question.
"Sure is. I'm here and the pain will stop," his resonant voice reassured her. A warm feeling flooded over her Maybe the universe hadn't gone insane, after all.
"Katrina?"
"She's taken care of," he told her. "She'll never bother you again."
With strength slowly coming back, Heather became more aware of her surroundings. Brian was unbuckling the belt from around her waist as she sat on the floor, arms and legs completely free of rope although the deep marks in her flesh reminded her how recently she had been helpless.
"It's been so long, Brian."
"Three days."
' It seems like years. Brian, why did you sell me to that woman?"
"I didn't. I sold you to a friend. I figured he would treat you okay. Oh, a little spanking here and there, but his main interest was in sex, pure and simple. He loved your pictures. And those video tapes of you." He paused for a second but then went on despite Heather's frown. "I made him agree that I could buy you back if my business straightened out. It wasn't until yesterday I found out that he had sold you to Katrina and that was were you were taken. I got here as fast as I could."
"None too soon," commented Heather dryly as she felt the ache in her private parts. "Another few minutes and I would have been missing some important flesh."
Suddenly the meaning of his statements sank in and she threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Brian, that means you want me!"
"Well, of course I do, you stupid little girl! I've always wanted you from that first day I saw you at Mr. Ed's."
The mention of that name brought a hardness to Heather's eyes. She looked down at her wrists, free of restraints that had been her constant state for longer than she cared to remember. She seemed to be studying the deep red indentations where the rope had been.
"And now?" she asked, looking up into his eyes. "Now what? Do you tie my hands behind my back and lock me in a trunk for the trip back to your white house in the desert? And a life of being your slave?"
He paused before answering, showing mixed emotions. "Well, I do like having you as a slavegirl." He let the words hang there for a few long seconds. "But I also understand a person's wanting to be free." Again a pause. "Would you consider becoming a voluntary slavegirl?"
"What the hell is that?"
"Well, actually, I... well, I want you for a slavegirl. I love seeing you all tied up and wiggling against the ropes. I like teasing you with those little discomforts."
"Little discomforts," she interrupted. "Like hanging me upside down on the wall! And freezing me in the frig? And boiling me in the spa? And dragging my ass half way across the desert behind your horse?"
"Yes," he said simply and directly, meeting her eyes without flinching. "Yes, I do like doing those things to you."
Heather frowned, unsure what to say next. There were things she like about this man. But he had also kept her a prisoner against her will. She sighed. And now he was asking her to become a prisoner again, this time voluntarily?!
"If I refuse?"
"I'll take you home. I don't think you could ever find my house and you don't know my last name. I could just drop you off and drive away. There's a lot of miles between your home and mine. We'd probably never see each other again."
Heather rose unsteadily to her feet, helped by his strong hand. "Could I get a drink. Anything. I've been treated a little badly these last days "
"She did that to you?" he asked, pointing to the ripped nipples.
"Yes. And she was about to do it to my clit " Brian swore. He didn't have to say how angry he was at that treatment.
He helped her to the kitchen of Katrina's house where he put on a pot of water for coffee and rummaged around for something to eat.
"I got Ronald to tell me what he had done to you and then came as fast as I could. You know, the bastard did it just for a profit? A lousy ten percent profit and he turns you over to that woman. Got some roast beef in the refrigerator. Looks like she really tore into you."
"She likes pain. And screams." Heather was oddly reluctant to talk about the mistreatment. Suddenly she looked up. "Where's Katrina? She's dangerous."
"Don't worry, she's in one of those rooms with the rings all over the walls. And she's not going anywhere. I do know how to tie a girl, remember?"
Heather took in a deep breath. For a while they both ate in silence, Heather unmindful of her nudity. She had spend so many days naked before this man that she no longer thought of it. Finally she put down her fork and gazed straight into his eyes.
"Will you help me?"
* * *
"You gotta be kidding!" exclaimed Katrina as Heather and Brian put the finishing touches on her bondage. "You can't do that!"
"Seems like we are," answered Heather sweetly.
It was easy to see why Katrina was looking very nervous. The large woman had been stripped naked and bound in much the same manner as Heather had last been in. Her wrists were tied together and stretched out above her head to a ring in the wall. But where she had tied Heather's legs together, hers were tied spread wide to two rings. A belt around her waist and a rope to a ring in the ceiling provided the support to lift her body off the floor. With both Brian and Heather tugging at the rope, they had been able to suspend her completely the floor, body arched up and looking very uncomfortable.
But what bothered her the most was the alligator clips in Heather's hand.
"You aren't going to put those on me, are you?"
"Why not? You put them on me "Well, that was different. You're a slave. I bought and paid for you. it's okay to torture a slavegirl."
"Well, just think of yourself as a slave. Welcome to enslavement."
Heather placed the jaws of one clip around one taut nipple and let them close slowly. Katrina didn't cry out but the fear was easy to read in her eyes. And in the sweat breaking out on her forehead. Heather surrounded the other nipple with a clip and let it close quickly.
"Ohhh!" Katrina couldn't hold a little cry of pain in.
"You know that I found a whole box of these clips? Probably a hundred of them."
Katrina was worried.
"I figure a big girl like you should have enough surface skin area to place a lot of clips." She attached another to the underside of a breast. "And we both know these little things are very hard to pull off. I'm sure there's no way you could shake them off." Another clamped onto the top of a breast. "You'll just have to wear them until you can manage to untie yourself."
"You wouldn't! I could be alone for days!"
"Yes, I know. You arranged to be alone with me for a whole week. Probably figured you would spend all that time torturing me and didn't want to be interrupted. I saw the notes on your desk and know you have a maid who comes by to clean. I think she'll find you on Monday."
"But this is...."
"Yes, I know, that's a long time. But think of all that pain you'll have to enjoy. I know how much you enjoy pain."
It took Heather almost an hour to clamp one hundred alligator clips on the tender flesh of her former owner. And she was careful not to miss the soft parts of her vagina and surrounding area. Katrina was actually pleading for mercy long before Heather had finished the last clip.
They left her suspended off the floor and moaning.
CHAPTER TEN - STEPHANIE GETS THE BRANK
Natasha was not without a pixie humor of her own. Over breakfast she reluctantly agreed to Wendy's insistence upon the Brank. Sardonically she wondered how many orgasms the hot young girl would manage through her painful day. But the real humor lay in Natasha's determination that since Dawn had failed to dissuade Wendy from her foolishness, she could share a part of it herself. Quietly she tucked the thought away and the three of them went downstairs where Wendy stood in breathless admiration of the metal monster she had chosen for the day. Bright-eyed, she stood with heaving breasts as her wrists were corded and her elbows brutally bound together. She actually smiled as her forearms were crushed together from fingers to elbows and uttered not a word of protest at treatment that would have driven most women to screaming.
"Oh, wow, just look what it does to my breasts," she said joyously. 'They're sticking out a mile! Oh, darlings, I'm so excited."
Dawn felt certain the metal beneath young armpits would bring Wendy to her senses so she might plead for mercy and perhaps mercy might be granted. But when this painful infliction had been adjusted to take her weight the panting young woman exhibited an unsuspected trait. It was as though she could, at will, enter a state of mind where pain became pleasure and immobility took on the role of bliss. She accepted the huge phallus as a wonderful gift from two girls who obviously must adore her greatly to take this much trouble. As the cunningly shaped horror entered her the girl it was suppose to punish was obviously in a high state of excitement and great pleasure. When the wicked prong finally came to a stop because it could go no further, she whispered, "Don't forget those little pointed things behind my knees."
Dawn and Natasha shook their heads in wonder.
The little spiked cylinders were placed in position and the lovely legs bend up and back, the ankles strapped tight against a youthful thigh. With every pain in place and every stricture tight within her flesh, Wendy moaned, "Thank you, thank you."
Dawn and her mistress attached the metal cage around the girl's head and inserted the metal spiked ball into her mouth. Then they stood in reverence before so joyous a victim as Wendy closed her eyes and seemed to be off on some sexual high. They had discovered a treasure, a unique and wonderful woman who turned pain into pleasure. Natasha was already wondering how to use this woman to the best possible advantage. "If my clients could see her now, money would flow like water." Wendy, herself, hung motionless, eyes closed, wallowing in sensations other girls would never know and could not understand. If the condition had a name, it was a name Dawn did not know.
"You may as well stay and watch this," suggested Natasha. "I wonder how long she'll stay excited? Maybe all day. At any rate, I'm sure she will take longer than you did. Hell, she probably wants to live in this." There was a hint of mischievous in Natasha's voice as she said, "Remember, I gave you a promise? Now give me your hands."
The tiny key worked its miracle. For Dawn this opening of a handcuff s jaws was ever a case of so near and so far. The little key spelt freedom. But, since she could never get her hands on it, she was obliged to suffer the frustration of watching it free her hands from front only to lock them again in back. She scarcely noted the slight increase in her lack of freedom. But what came next caused her to tense alert.
"Aren't they pretty," Natasha laughed as she held up the slender, shinning chains with a sinister small appendage at each end. "I'm not going to clip your tit, darling, if that's what you're thinking. This is far more subtle and won't impede the circulation. I wouldn't wish to loose one of your nipples any more than you. Stand still and don't complain." Dawn stood still and found herself breathing heavily as Natasha's fingers were busy on her breast. "It's just a tiny ring, dear," Natasha explained. "You see, I fit it over your nipple like this and work it well down to the base, then I use this little screwdriver. Tell me if it hurts."
The captive girl could look down and watch the busy hands well her own were safely in limbo behind her. It was a delicious sensation upon a tiny portion of herself loaded with nerves. The ring tightened until Dawn winced with pain. But this time the nipple was squeeze enough to be slightly darker and slightly larger than normal. With a fine degree of accuracy, Natasha adjusted the tightness. Dawn watched the other end of the tiny chain was fastened to the a nipple on the other naked girl.
"There, darlings, the chain is a foot long which gives you plenty of scope and you can't get either of the rings off without a screwdriver." Natasha grinned. "Have a nice day." And she walked away.
Dawn did not know whether to laugh or cry. She could examine the ring on Wendy's nipple better than she could see her own. It was evident the tiny circlet was there to stay. Even with her fingers free, she would not be able to turn the tiny screw. Dawn tested the chain by a step backward. Each girl gasped and she quickly stepped back up. Dawn wanted to cry. She would have to stand next to Wendy and watch the beautiful young woman suffer the agonies of the Brank just as she had. They were effectively tethered together by their nipples.
Wendy whimpered something that sounded like praise for Natasha's cleverness but the metal ball in her mouth made speech impossible. But if Wendy thought this little trick of Natasha's was cute, Dawn did not agree. But, since there was nothing she could do about it, she stood still and very soon found herself twisting her wrists within the steel. In wry disgust she realized her handcuffs were the only thing she would have to play with all day. When she tried to wiggle herself into a position where she might ease some of Wendy's pain, the ring instantly warned her to behave herself.
Sighing with annoyance, she was suddenly aware of another diversion. By bending her head down she could just reach Wendy's non-tethered nipple with her tongue. She flicked it and licked it, evoking a muffled but joyous response from the bound up Wendy. The girl must have been at a pretty high level of excitement to begin with for a few minutes of tongue work by Dawn and she was tensing her entire body and moaning loudly from within her metal cage. If she wasn't experiencing a first class orgasm, Dawn would eat her handcuffs! Perhaps it was mischievous of Dawn or perhaps a kindness for the girl being tortured, but Dawn again attacked that free nipple with her tongue after allowing the suspended girl a short rest. The blonde again quickly worked up to an orgasm. Dawn was vaguely aware that as she pushed her head down to take the rigid nipple in her mouth and suck on it, she was pulling away from Wendy with her breasts and that was making the short chain pulled hard on both their nipples. But she ignored the pain from that tether and worked Wendy's free nipple until the girl was arching her body within it's bonds and moaning loudly.
If it were not for the orgasms induced by Dawn, the day would have been a real bore. Dawn watched her companion spasm into one orgasm after another, some triggered by her tongue work, some apparently started simply by the huge dildo inside her sheath. Both girls lost all track of time and Dawn was sure that no woman could ever experience as many orgasms as Wendy did. It just wasn't possible!
Dawn would have' loved to sit down but the tiny rings and chain laughed at such a notion. She was firmly attached to Wendy. When, after three hours, Natasha came to check on them, Dawn was not unchained.
Wendy was inspected and the strap through her crotch tightened a notch, an act which triggered yet another orgasm in the helpless girl. But when Natasha walked out, both girls will still bound and unable to do anything about their plight.
In those periods when Wendy was recovering from the last orgasm and not yet ready for the next, she gazed out of the metal cage around her head with sparking eyes. Dawn could see her grow tired for no girl, not even the effervescent and pain-loving Wendy, could take this treatment without becoming exhausted. But there was still an excitement, a glow about her that spoke well enough of this incredible girl's enjoyment of such harsh treatment.
Dawn offered comforting words. But there was little else she could do to help Wendy. The little rings and the chain mocked her longing to walk away, to run to Natasha and plead that Wendy now be released.
Unexpectedly Natasha came again. No doubt she was curious. She brushed aside Dawn's pleadings to observe sardonically that what they were doing would do both girls a great deal of good. To help counter the boredom of the afternoon, she snapped a wicked little spring clip upon Wendy's free nipple and dared Dawn to take it off with her mouth. She then put another clip upon Dawn's free nipple, commenting to the effect that this was one prisoner who didn't know when she was well off and should keep quiet. After that Dawn stood still and kept her mouth shut as the hateful clip bit her nipple. But she managed to exclaim, without too much sarcasm, "Thank you, Natasha, I'll love wearing it just for you."
When she was alone again she spent fifteen minutes wiggling and twisting in an effort to take it off. After that she had to debate with herself whether she should indeed use her mouth to take the clip off Wendy's nipple. She knew that she could reach it. But Wendy was spasming of moaning and off in another world. Dawn had the feeling that if she didn't take it off, Wendy would orgasm all afternoon. But was that so bad? At least the girl wouldn't feel the pain of the strain on her shoulders and arms, the bite of those damned cylinders embedded in her folded up legs, and the damned metal ball in her mouth. Dawn didn't know if that huge dildo inside Wendy qualified as torture or pleasure. Or maybe both.
Dawn shrugged in resignation. She left the clip alone.
When the time came for the girl's to be released for dinner, it took their owner quite a length of time to set them free.
Dawn wondered if Wendy's ability to slip away from pain into sexual pleasure would enable her to avoid the agonies of being whipped. She was given the opportunity to find out for her wrist was handcuffed to a ring in the wall to enable her to watch Stephanie as she conditioned the young woman for the impending sale.
Since Wendy was more or less a friend of the family, she was not suspended upside down but was bound between the two posts with hands high and wide, and feet similarly well apart. Stephanie explained helpfully that gentlemen wanted to see whip marks around or upon the focal point of interest at the junction of a girl's legs. It was thus desirable to have the subject's feet tied well apart. When Wendy was once more breathless and quivering in excitement as the cords were placed upon her limbs and tugged tight. When Stephanie was finished the subject was completely helpless and could move only enough to provide an erotic acknowledgment of pain. On the basis that she might as well start at the root of the matter, Stephanie struck her first blow hard up between the tractioned legs to snap wickedly upon that most private portion of a female. Wendy surged hard against the bindings and observed that she would never had dreamed such pain was possible. And would Stephanie please be so kind as to hit her again in the same place? It would, she said without shame, bring her to a climax. Stephanie did and she and Dawn watched in disbelief as Wendy flowered into a huge orgasm that left her body limp and trembling.
For a few minutes Stephanie watched but, with a shake of her head, soon returned to her task. She had been ordered by Natasha to mark up Wendy's body, not bring the girl to an improbable orgasm. She swept up the whip again between Wendy's pulled apart legs to make the tethered girl jerk hard and scream. Again and again she whipped the tender skin. But it wasn't too long before the observers realized that the screams were not only of pain, but of pleasure. With eyes clamped tight shut and head arched back, the naked girl was undergoing a long, drawn out orgasm to the accompaniment of Stephanie's whipping!
But all things, good and bad, come to an end, and Stephanie finished her job of marking the beautiful young body. Wendy hung limp and apparently unconscious in her bonds. Dawn wasn't sure who had won, the torturer or the victim.
When let down, Wendy's feet were once more chained and her wrists handcuffed behind her back. Then she was sent to exhibit herself to her owner who spoke breathlessly of the price she would now command from the silly male clients.
* * *
Rick Harris purchased Mrs. Wendy Harridence on the following day at a price so huge Dawn found it hard to comprehend. It seemed absurd any man would value a pair of breasts and a pussy at so huge a figure. No one mentioned to Mr. Harris that he was parting with a great deal of money for whip marks he could have imposed himself. But Wendy was very happy, standing nakedly to be bound by her new owner and offering almost wifely suggestions as to how she could be made more helpless with a little extra pain. Rick stored his new position, safely immobilized, into the trunk of his car and drove away in triumph while Natasha summed up the entire male sex with the simple statement that men were nuts.
That day, right after dinner, three more kidnapped maidens were delivered into bondage and Natasha's auction block. And it pleased the mistress to place Dawn in the same room with her wrists bound in the same way as on the previous occasion as a means of conditioning another kidnapped example of beautiful femininity. Laughing to herself that she was a bell weather, she made herself as comfortable as a naked girl can upon a seat of stone and awaited the first arrival.
First one sadly distressed maiden and then another. Dawn did her best to tell of the benefits Natasha would provide and of the bright future in store for any luck girl purchased by a millionaire. She was listened to with doubt and disbelief. When a third young woman was thrust into the big chamber for her attention, it was Dawn who, herself, who got the shock of disbelief as she came face to face with a girl who couldn't have been much older than fifteen. Her innocent, sweet face was framed by golden locks and showed tear stains. Natasha seemed rather pleased with this new bunch as she surveyed them through the bars of the door. Especially pleased with the youngster who's body, while not quite fully ripe, was well developed and showed great promise of perfection in the near future. The golden-haired teenager had her hands bound behind her back as did the others, and she was naked, also the uniform of the day.
The three newcomers eyed Natasha from their side of the bars, perhaps sensing that this woman was more important to their future than just a guard. One looked defiant, one looked worried, and the teenager just looked sweet and innocent. Dawn could almost see Natasha's tongue licking her lips as she gazed upon such innocence completely under her control. With a sudden turn, Natasha was gone from the room, leaving four naked girls in an iron-barred cage.
The next person to come into the room was Stephanie. She grinned in Dawn's direction but it was the golden-haired teenager she removed from the cell. There had been only enough time to discover that the girl's name was Mary Ann before she had been plucked from their midst.
Dawn felt a certain sadness within herself Was it because of the terrible things that would now be happening to that lovely young girl? Or something else. Perhaps. Perhaps, she finally had to face up to, it was because she that come to think of herself as the favorite of Natasha. But it was this Mary Ann who was being treated different and Dawn was certain it was to Natasha's bedroom that the young girl had been taken. It was a sad thought but also an angry one. Dawn didn't like it one bit. She felt silly admitting it to herself but she wanted to remain Natasha's favorite.
An hour later Stephanie returned. Dawn had spent the time explaining the facts of a slavegirl's life to the two new girls but her spirit had not been with it. In fact, she hardly remembered their names. But with Stephanie's approach her spirits lifted. And when the door was opened and she was summoned out, her heart thumped a little harder.
Up the stairs they went, Dawn following meekly behind Stephanie, her inner tension betrayed only by a slight twisting of her wrists against the ropes that held them behind her back. Then they were in Natasha's bedroom and Dawn was so happy she also cried out in joy. Mary Ann had been taken somewhere else and Dawn was still Natasha's favorite!
The bedroom was empty and Dawn noted the door to the bathroom was closed. Natasha's probably taking a shower of something, Dawn thought as Stephanie led her to a chair that was placed in the middle of the room, facing the foot of the huge bed. The plush purple coverings of the bed clashed with the red carpet. The gold on white wall paper did little to help but Dawn did not notice the decor she had seen many times before.
Stephanie made her sit down with her arms draped over the back of the chair. Then she untied Dawn's hands but quickly retied them with the palms touching inside of the wrists crossed. There followed a loop of rope around her elbows but Dawn didn't mind. She could be tied however her mistress wanted-the important thing was that it was she would be spending the night as Natasha's favorite.
The elbows were drawn together and bound tightly. Then a loop of rope went around Dawn's left ankle to pull the foot back and bend the leg. That ankle was tied to the left rear leg of the metal chair, a rather strenuous position as Dawn had to spread her leg wide to get it around the side of the chair seat. As the right ankle was looped and pulled back, a tiny bit of doubt began to nibble at Dawn's joy. When was she being tied to this chair? Natasha usually let her sleep in the big, soft bed. Always bound or chained but at least in the bed, next to her mistress' body. The right leg was spread wide and bent so the ankle could reach the back leg and be bound there. It was a very wide spread and not at all comfortable. But Dawn was by now an experienced slavegirl and uttered no protest. She knew such would be useless at best and earn her a punishment at worst. If her mistress wanted her tightly bound to a chair, so be it.
Her wrists were tied down to the rungs under the chair so tightly that her shoulders and back were pinned to the back of the chair. It was a metal tubing kitchen with a seat and a padded back but nothing else. There was an opening between the padded back and the seat. Stephanie put a loop of rope around Dawn's waist and pulled it very tightly so that the girl left she was being cut in two. That rope was passed around her already bound arms and back to circle her waist again. Several more wrappings and her tummy was firmly lashed to her arms with the ropes cutting deeply into the tender flesh. "Stephanie? What?" Dawn tried to ask the reason for such an unusual binding but was cut off by the introduction of a metal device into her mouth. It was a large metal ball with spikes, not extremely sharp spikes, but not dull ones either. It reminded Dawn of the Brank, a torture she would rather forget. But here the ball was not attached to anything. She could have, with a little effort, pushed it from her mouth with her tongue. But such was not to be for Stephanie then wrapped a wide metal band across Dawn's face. The band was curved and came in two halves. They closed tightly around her head and were locked together with a small padlock through a hasp. Dawn could feel Stephanie adjusting something at the back of her head and the band tightened down until Dawn's lips were crushed against her teeth and she could feel the edge of the band digging into the back of her head. From the bottom of her nose to the chin, her face was covered by shinning metal.
She shook her head and heard the small padlock rattle against the metal band. But the damned thing could not be moved. It would have been enough of a discomfort by itself but with the spiked ball it held inside her mouth, Dawn was afraid of this gag. It reminded her too much of the Brank. How long was she to wear it?
Stephanie apparently was completed with her bondage tasks for she left the room without even an encouraging word to the naked and well-tied girl. Dawn shook her head violently but only rattled metal on metal. There seemed to be no way to hold that spiked ball that didn't hurt something in her mouth. It pressed down on her tongue and poked the roof of her mouth. If she was to wear thing for any length of time, she would be screaming.
After a few minutes Dawn settled herself down as best she could to wait. The bondage was tight and would get to hurting a bunch before long but she was young and could take it. The gag was terrible but there was nothing she could do about it. Maybe it would be removed before it got too bad. All in all, she told herself, things weren't too bad. Yet. At least she was still Natasha's favorite.
It never occurred to Dawn to wonder if it was worth all this pain to be Natasha's favorite.
One of the first things a slavegirl learns is that her wishes are no consideration of her mistress'. And that a mistress enjoys torturing her slavegirl in ways both physical and mental. When the bathroom door opened and Natasha entered the room, Dawn cried out in pain. Natasha was not alone! With her was a ravishingly beautiful Mary Ann, naked and bound and looking delicious in her sweet innocent way. Both the mistress and the new slavegirl were fresh from a bath, no doubt shared. But the slavegirl's arms were bound with dry rope so it must have been freshly applied. Mary Ann's arms were bound behind her back but in a way Dawn had never seen before. A leather collar with a ring in the back was locked about the lovely neck. Then her wrists had been pulled behind her back and the hands pulled up towards that ring. Either her arms were must more flexible than most girl's or Natasha had been brutal in forcing them together because the wrists were tied together with the back of the hands touching and then tied up to the ring. The rope between the wrists and that ring was very taunt, showing the strain of pulling the arms so far up on that lovely back. In fact, her hands were almost above her shoulder blades with the fingers just able to touch the ring. And so high were they pulled that the forearms naturally came together. A final gilding of the lily was a short piece of rope that wrapped around her forearms near the elbows, holding her arms together all the way from elbows to wrists.
It was similar to the way Dawn's arms were bound but instead of hanging down, they were upside down with the hands up by her neck. Dawn didn't understand how a girl could even get her arms into that position. It must hurt a hell of a lot, she told herself. But Mary Ann's face did not mirror the agony Dawn expected. Instead her eyes were bright with an excitement Dawn had seen all too often lately. Her was a younger version of Wendy! It had to be. This teenager could only be sexually excited!
Ignoring the naked girl bound to the chair in the middle of her bedroom, Natasha casually walked to the bed and spread herself comfortably upon the purple silk. She waved a hand and Mary Ann followed, almost hopping onto the wide bed. Awkwardly she crawled up until her head was resting upon the thigh of her mistress. Her blue eyes gazed upward in admiration.
What the hell went on in that bathroom, wondered Dawn with more than a tinge of anger. Or was this kid just a natural-born lesbian? With arms bound so as to have disappeared, the teenager wiggled over between Natasha's legs and squirmed upward until her face was buried within the pubic triangle. It was obvious the girl know what to do there as Natasha settled back to enjoy.
Dawn cried out and threw her body against the ropes. Anger and frustration raced through her mind. All she could think about was that this youngster was taking-her place! She was Natasha's favorite. It just wasn't fair!
If Natasha noticed the attempted contortions of the girl in the chair, she chose not to acknowledge them.
Dawn could do nothing but endure agony both physical and mental as she sat there watching a display of lesbian lovemaking that stretched out until the small hours of the morning. They took turns, the mistress and the bound slavegirl. Never were Mary Ann's arms untied but that hindered her little. They performed oral sex upon each other in positions Dawn had ever imagined. First one on the other, then reversed. Then both lapping each other's pussies with a vigor. Then the teenager would straddle Natasha's head and lower her pussy down until their owner's tongue teased its innermost parts. A few minutes later the roles would be reversed as Mary Ann lay unprotesting upon her tightly bound arms and serviced the sex pressed down upon her face.
Dawn wept and moaned and jerked her bound body until the chair fairly danced. But nothing changed. The show went on and she stayed a helpless, unwilling observer. When the two lesbians finally fell into an exhausted sleep, Dawn was still breathing hard and feeling such mixed emotions as she had ever felt in her life. Someplace towards dawn �he finally fell asleep herself. When Natasha awoke, Mary Ann was laying against her side, arms still lashed tightly high on her back and an innocent smile on her sweet face. As the owner of such lovely girl-flesh got out of bed, she noted Dawn's sleeping form in the chair and smiled herself.
Later Stephanie would come back and untie Dawn. Then she would take Dawn down to the dungeon area and spread-eagle her naked body against one wall with leather cuffs and tight ropes. Upon Natasha's orders, she then inserted a huge rubber dildo inside Dawn's sex, tying it in place as tightly as she could with ropes that bit into the girl's flesh. A small wire trailed from the dildo to a small black box which in turn was plugged into an electrical outlet. Inside the huge rubber phallus powerful vibrator began tingling sensitive nerve endings, evoking an unwanted response in the helpless girl. Later, long after Stephanie left her, she was moaning and crying out in an ecstasy she could not avoid as her body jerked within its bonds.
That afternoon, Dawn was bound into the Brank for four hours as punishment for making noises which had bothered her mistress' lovemaking the night before.
CHAPTER ELEVEN - REUNION!
Her jaw still ached from wearing the Brank the day before but Dawn couldn't do anything about it. Today she was wearing only her handcuffs and, although her hands were fixed behind her back, she hardly felt restrained at all. It had been a quiet morning, one spent mostly in the iron cage in the basement. Which was good as Dawn needed time to recover from the last two day's torment.
Spending a night tied to a chair was hard enough but to have to watch her mistress in wild abandon and lovemaking with a teenage tart had almost broken her heart and left a sadness inside. She could easily guess that she was no longer the favorite of Natasha. Then a long stretch in the Brank had done her no good. The torture was every bit as bad as Dawn remembered it to be. Her jaw and tongue hurt from the spiked ball forced in by the brank cage. And her shoulders ached something terrible because they had taken all her weight during the ordeal. The inside of her knees gave only minor twinges now and then to tell of the cylinders with tiny spikes that had been forced between her bend legs. But her vagina still felt stretched as if that huge dildo was still inside, driving her to repeated orgasms in spite of her wishes. She remembered many times crying out pleas around that metal gag even though the room was empty. It was a terrible torture.
At eleven o'clock Stephanie came to fetch Dawn and take her to another dungeon room where the new girls were to receive their strips, the strips left by a whip and which would guarantee their sale at a high price. Two of the new girls were already there, strung up in the inverted spread- eagle Natasha favored for marking a girl' skin.
Notable but not unexpected was the absence of the third new girl, Mary Ann, from the suspended beauties. The teenage blonde was instead standing by Natasha's side, handcuffed behind her back and with another pair of handcuffs on her ankles to serve as leg irons. Someone had brushed her long hair until it shone. Dawn saw the rope marks still on the younger girl's wrists and remembered the extreme bondage that had held them high up on her back, fingers touching her neck collar. So the little girl's flexible, thought Dawn, that's no reason for her to replace me as Natasha's favorite.
The whipping of new girls went forward as Dawn had expected with much swishing of leather through the air, the crack of impact as girl flesh was much abused, and the screams of pain echoing in the chamber. Stephanie and Natasha both took turns as the two suspended nudities were transformed from creamy-skinned beauties into crying wenches with vivid red and purple marks covering their bottoms, thighs and even breasts. Not showing but also present were such marks hidden within the pubic bush, marks made by riding crops coming straight down with much force to brutally hurt the girls.
Finally the whips were put away, leaving two whimpering girls suitably marked up for their auction which was to take place later that same day. Dawn was marched away to a simple lunch eaten in her cage all alone. Mary Ann was last seen leaving with Natasha, both bright-eyed and breathing hard.
The auction was the same as most. Dawn was allowed to view it but from the back of the room. There were some rings attached to the wall there and she was tethered to one by a neck collar and chain. As a handful of men trickled into the room, some glanced at her and some went over for a closer look. There were rude comments both about parts of her body and speculation that this nice curvy one might be put up for sale. But most of the men were used to Mr. Ed's auctions and knew that the girls would be brought out one at a time and unveiled on the tiny stage. It was more dramatic that way.
Mr. Ed entered and went to the stage. Dawn noted that Mary Ann was brought in a minute later and chained to the ring next to Dawn. The teenager smiled at Dawn in greeting but was ignored. None of the rules of the house demanded that she have to be nice to this little tart. It was with a little pleasure that Dawn noted the way Mary Ann kept looking around the room as if seeking the one face she wanted most: Natasha. Perhaps Natasha had not yet let Mary Ann in on her little secret. It would undoubtedly come as a surprise to the youngster to find that Natasha and Mr. Ed were one in the same.
There were only eight men in the audience but apparently that was all expected because Mr. Ed stepped up to the stage and announced in his squeaky, high-pitched voice, "Welcome. I have three girls available for sale today, all beautiful and very sexy." He paused while Stephanie brought in the first of the new girls. When her thin covering was whisked away, there was an intake of breath from the male audience. The girl had been beautiful but the whip marks covering her body transported her beyond that. She was now something special. Those scarlet and purple bruises crisscrossing her huge breasts spoke volumes to the audience and they were listening. Numerous marks on her inner thighs drew attention to that area, too. It was almost like the old custom of putting a black spot as a "beauty mark" to draw attention to a girl's better features. These whip marks certainly draw the eye to breasts and pubic patch.
The bidding started high and went higher. Dawn, who was used to wealth and the easy life, was still amazed that men would pay so much for the right to own a woman. She even wondered what it would be like to really be sold. Her only trip to the auction block had been a shame, a farce put up by Mr. Ed to allow him to whisk her away into his own "harem." Finally the girl was sold. Dawn couldn't see the man who had bought the girl, the lighting was-mostly on the stage, leaving the audience in shadows with just enough light for Mr. Ed to see their upraised hands as bids. Stephanie led her away and brought in the second girl a minute later.
The second girl was beautiful but in a different way. While the first had been beautiful in a full-figured way, this one was slender with tiny waist and breasts that, while not huge, looked good in proportion to her slender build. Her legs were long and looked fine. And there must have been some "leg men" in the audience for the bidding did not fall behind that of the first girl. The whip marks that covered her bottom and the front and insides of her thighs did not hurt the bidding, either. The second girl as sold and escorted off by Stephanie who was wearing a very thin leather bikini for this event. Somehow she looked sexier than when completely naked. Perhaps only the merchandise was completely naked around here.
"Which brings us, boys, to the third girl of this auction," lisped Mr. Ed. It was followed by a long, gentle drag on his ivory cigarette holder. The cigarette was violet colored this time. "Stephanie, if you please?"
Suddenly Dawn felt her neck collar being unlocked and Stephanie's hand upon her arms. She gasped out in surprise, not at being unlocked from the wall, but at the sudden realization of why she had been present at this auction. It was no whim of Mr. Ed's, it was so she could be sold. She wanted to cry. But if Natasha no longer wanted her... maybe it was best.
She stood on the block and held her head up high. It would do no good to her pride, already suffering considerably, to sell for less than a couple of girls she considered not a beautiful as her. And just because of some fresh whip marks upon their skins.
But she did not have to worry. Hers was a fine figure and a beautiful face framed by golden hair. The bidding ran high then higher. The final price was well above that of the previous two, making Dawn a little happy in a bitter-sweet way.
But, just as Mr. Ed was announcing "Sold", one of the audience rose to his feet and approached the stage. He was next to Mr. Ed before the slender figure in the mauve leisure suit realized it. And there was suddenly a huge 45 automatic pointing directly at his nose. Mr. Ed gulped.
"Everybody freeze!" came a commanding voice. "This is a police raid." He stepped behind Mr. Ed so he could face the audience. Quickly he flashed a shinning badge in the general direction of the audience. "Now listen, I'm not interested in arresting the buyers here, just in shutting down the operation. But any of you who are still on the premises in one minute will be explaining why to a judge."
For a second the audience was frozen. Then there was a rush for the door, clearing the room very quickly. AH, except one figure who came up to the stage.
"Hi, little sister," said Heather, throwing off the long coat and hat she had been wearing to pass as a man. "Long time no see."
Dawn's jaw actually dropped. Things were happening too suddenly for the girl to grasp.
"We'll have a long talk later, kid. Meantime we came to get you out of here."
Dawn looked puzzled, her glance darting from Mr. Ed's angry features to those of her older sister.
"Might I suggest we get going?" offered Brian, still holding the huge automatic to the back of Mr. Ed's head. "We hit it lucky in finding Dawn instead of having to torture her location out of this bastard. But you never can tell when some one might notice the lack of police cars and support units around here. But it sure is amazing how realistic a badge you can buy at a toy store."
Heather went over to Mr. Ed and grabbed a handful of shirt with an angry fist. "Not until I've had a little talk with this sleazeball. He's the one who had us kidnapped. He's the one who kept my sister prisoner and tortured her. Look at those marks on her body! It's my bet we'll find there was a lot more torture going on here than just a few whip marks."
"No!" cried Dawn. "Don't hurt Natasha."
"What?" cried Heather and Brian at the same time.
Then Heather turned back to the slender figure before her. "Natasha?" she said. Then her fist jerked down and the front of the garment came away, revealing a corset but one not designed to uplift and accent the breasts, rather to flatten and hide them. Quickly, while Brian held the angry woman with an arm around her throat, Heather ripped away more clothing until there was only a pair of short, high-heel boots left. Before them was a respectable feminine body. Even the short cut hair went well with her figure.
'I'll be god damned!" expressed Heather. "Mr. Ed's is really Mrs. Ed!"
"Natasha is her name and please don't hurt her," said Dawn in a pleading voice.
For a long time Heather looked hard at Dawn and then at Natasha, filling in the situation in her mind. "So she's got you feeling some sort of love for her?"
Dawn s lack of reply and hurt looking eyes told the story plainly enough.
"Why that little scum-bucket! I'll rip her eyes out. Brian, give me that gun."
"No way, honey. I don't want you to know the rest of your life that you murdered someone. Even if he... she does deserve it. How many young girls have you sold into a life of slavery?" he said.
"Some of them liked it...." was Natasha's weak answer.
"Ya. Well, your career as a slaver market is over. Question is what do we do now?"
"Police?" suggested Heather.
"No. They would like to get 'Mr. Ed' here but then you'd have to testify in the trial. And Dawn would have to testify. It would be a mess. Perhaps there's something better?"
"Let's secure her while we think." Heather looked around but found no ropes. "Where's some rope? Hell, where's the key to Dawn's handcuffs?" Natasha stuck her nose up and refused to answer.
"Dawn, where's the nearest room with ropes?"
"Well.
"Come on, girl, don't get all mixed up in some silly emotions over this woman. She's the one who kidnapped us in the first place, remember? She's just brain-washed you into thinking you love her. But things will be different now."
Dawn bit her lip and sighed. It was all so confusing to her. She thought she loved Natasha and would do anything to be with her. But now...
Dawn led them from the auction room and down the stairs to the dungeons. One of the first rooms held enough rope to bind an army. Natasha was tossed in.
"Brian, honey, you tie her up in one of your extra special tight jobs. I've got an idea." Heather was suddenly gone.
Brian shrugged and reached for the rope. Dawn stood silently by and watched the unusual sight of her mistress being bound by a man. When Heather returned she was triumphantly holding up a tiny key.
"It was in her velvet suit. Figured she would probably keep it handy." Then she unlocked Dawn's hands to leave the girl rubbing her wrists and looking puzzled. "We'll find you some clothes later."
"But, Heather, I've a slavegirl, I'm not supposed to be free. Or dressed."
"Oh, shit, the brain-washing took pretty good. Well, we'll do something about that. Brian, when you're finished with that?"
Brian looked up to nodded his understanding.
"Don't worry, dear, we understand that you're a slavegirl. We'll tie your hands in just a minute. Be patient."
Dawn seemed to brighten up at that prospect but still looked confused.
On the floor, Brian was applying the final touches to a hogtie much like that used for transporting the girls to new owners. Natasha's arms were tied behind her back with elbows tight together. Her legs were tied at knees and ankles and bend back. Because the girl was slender, and Brian deliberately did not care about comfort, he had tied the ankle ropes up to the elbow bondage instead of the wrists as in a normal hogtie. With the kind of strength he was able to put into tugging on the rope, he had forced Natasha's ankles all the way up to touch the elbows. It arched the slender body in a painful bow but also guaranteed escape impossible.
"Got a gag?" he asked.
"Some on that table," replied Dawn absent-mindedly as she gazed at the painfully tight contortion Natasha had been bend into.
Brian fetched a ball gag and crammed it tightly into her mouth. It really was too large but he managed to shove it past the teeth and buckle it up tight. The former slaveholder's jaw was forced so wide open that it must have been painful right then. In a few hours it would be agony.
"Okay, she's all right for now," said Brian, getting up.
"Then, if you please?" said Heather with a wave of her hand in the direction of her sister.
Brian selected another length of rope and approached the still naked Dawn. She obediently turned her back and crossed her wrists behind her back. When finished he girl's arms were completely helpless behind her back with the wrists bound and the elbows linked but only tightly pulled towards each other, not touching. Dawn seemed more at ease but still puzzled at the sudden turn of events.
While Dawn was being tied, Heather had rummaged through the draws of a bureau, coming up with a discipline hood made of black leather. That she fastened over Natasha's head and laced down tightly. It helped considerably to cut down the moans.
"Well, now what?" asked Brian. "I would suggest we get out of here. We can decide what to do with Mr. Ed later."
"Good idea. Let's get to the car."
With Dawn following obediently behind and Brian carrying Natasha head down by one arm looped under her legs, the little group headed back up stairs. In the hallway at the top of the stairs they met Stephanie.
From somewhere Stephanie had obtained a gun. It was a small automatic, probably 25 caliber, the kind of gun women like to carry in their bags. But she had it pointed directly at the group carrying her mistress.
"Put her down!" Stephanie sounded distraught. "Put her down and untie her!"
Brian lowered his bundle slowly to the floor, aware of the weight of the automatic in his belt holster. But Stephanie held her gun steady on Heather and he dare not try a quick draw.
Stephanie gasped when she saw the cruelly bound up Natasha and dropped to her knees beside her mistress. "I'll get you out, Mistress, don't you worry!" she cried as she put down the gun and began franticly tugging at the tight knots. Heather calmly stepped forward and brought her foot up to connect solidly with Stephanie's chin. The naked girl's head snapped back and she rolled over to lay still on the floor.
"Natasha has loyal slaves," said Heather. "Loyal, but dumb."
Stephanie was tightly bound long before she regained consciousness. Like her mistress, she lay on the concrete floor of the garage area, tightly bound in a hogtie only a little less severe than Natasha's. She wore both a ball gag and a discipline hood, the usual traveling arrangements for slavegirls.
Dawn was sitting against the wall, her arms still bound behind her back and her ankles now tied. A handcuff linked her arm to a pipe in the wall, keeping her from wandering around. She seemed happier than she had since Mary Ann came into her life.
Brian was returning to the garage with a boxful of papers.
Heather came in a minute later, dragging Mary Ann behind her at the end of a leash hooked to a discipline hood encasing her head. The teenage girl's arms were bound behind her back with elbows touching but her legs were free. "I found her in the room next door. Apparently she was being wrapped for shipment. I untied her legs. There's no one else in the place."
"I've got enough documents here to shut down Mr. Ed's operation if I release selected portions to the police. Also enough to enable the police to get his kidnapping henchmen. This operation is finished for good."
"Doesn't that bother you?" asked Heather in a sweet but sarcastic voice. "After all, you were one of the buyers, won't you miss the auction?"
"My buying days are over," he smiled back. "And I seem to have acquired a bit of a harem," he added, indicating the four bound women.
"You're not suggesting that you're going to keep them!" Then Heather cocked her head to one side in thought. "But the idea of torturing Natasha every day for life does sound interesting. A lot of work, but interesting." Brian unlocked the back door of his van. "That's not your style. You want vengeance but you would tire of actually whipping her by your own hand."
"You're right," admitted Heather, a little sadly. "But we can't just let her go. She'd probably be back in business in a month. Besides, she deserves a bit of punishment, heh?"
"Agreed. But what? We decided we didn't want to get involved with the police. After all, my buying you makes me an accomplice to the whole operation."
"I'll think of something. In fact, I have an idea " Brian didn't like the look on Heather's face. It certainly bode ill for someone. He loaded Natasha into the back of the van. "Well, let's get a move on it." He loaded Stephanie beside Natasha. "Some one is sure to come back sooner or later." He loaded Mary Ann in and used a length of rope to tie her ankles together and then into a hog tie. "Hope the I don't get stopped anywhere by the police. It would be hard to explain that I'm rescuing these girls."
Heather unlocked the handcuff on Dawn's arm and led her to the van. The girl still looked puzzled but less so. Perhaps she was beginning to see the freedom as a future instead of the life of a slavegirl she had come to believe was her only future. Heather cover her shoulders with the coat she had worn to the auction and let her sit behind the front seats.
As the van was driving away from the underground garage of Mr. Ed's Slave House, Heather took her purse out of the glove box and went to the back of the van. A few minutes later she returned to the passenger seat with a smile on her face.
"What were you up to?" asked Brian.
"Just helping Natasha pass the time. We've a long drive, you know."
"You helping her?"
"Well, I didn't want her to get bored so I shoved a little bit of this up her vagina." She showed Brian a package marked "Itching Powder."
"And I rubbed a bit into other soft, moist parts of that area. And a bit on her breasts. That's one girl who will wish she had hands."
Brian adjusted the rear view mirror so he could see the bound girls at the back of the van. The one on the right was twitching and jerking within the tiny limits allowed her body by the tight ropes.
"You're quite a girl!" he laughed. "I would never have thought of that."
"And I'm glad," she replied with a sweet smile.
"Well, there's always the future "
"I told you, we'd talk about that after I got my sister back."
"Okay, subject on hold. Now, what about Natasha? You said you had a plan...?"
The moans and whines coming from the room were pitiful in the extreme. Brian paused to listen then shake his head before entering the room with his burden.
Katrina looked up with hope in her eyes, hope that changed to puzzlement when she saw it was Brian. Perhaps he was back to free her? And who was that he carried so easily?
Brian put down the hogtied Natasha and went over to examine Katrina. The large sized sadist was still suspended a foot off the floor and most of the alligator clips were still biting her flesh. There were tear stains down each side of her face and she looked haggard and tired.
"Cheer up," offered Brian. "You've only a little over twenty-four hours to go before your maid comes to untie you. Looks like you've been through hell. Hurt much?"
Katrina glared at him.
"Thought so. Still like pain? Other girl's pain?"
Katrina actually growled at him.
"You're a touch bitch. Well, tell you what. Since I came in and removed your... your plaything, I've decided to replace her with another." He went to Natasha. The trussed-up body was twitching slightly now and then but nowhere near as violently as it had for the first four hours.
Picking her up, he carried her to a closet and deposited her inside. Then he locked the end of a short piece of chain around her neck. The other end was run up to the clothes pole and locked around that, making Natasha a prisoner of the closet as well as her bondage.
"You can have her. Of course, you won't get your hands on her until after your maid comes to let you free. Here's the key." He took the key that fit Natasha's locks and put it on the closet shelf. "I doubt the maid will be able to find that. She'll undoubtedly untie you first. You can free this girl later, when you're feeling more your old surly self."
He closed the closet door and returned to Katrina. "But seriously. You can keep this girl. You can torture her all you want. Just promise me that you'll never sell her to anyone else or ever let her escape. You'll be doing a lot of people a big favor."
He left the still-bound Katrina to plan games she would play with her new toy. Heather was waiting in the hall.
"Did you see?"
"Yes. It's a terrible fate for Natasha."
"Sorry you thought of it?"
"Not for one second!"
"I agree. Of course, Natasha's only crime was being successful in a business...." Heather swatted Brian's arm. They walked away leaving the moans and pleas behind them.
Back in the van, Heather asked, "Now about this harem? You aren't really planning to keep all them, are you?"
"Of course not! Do you think I'm stupid!" He drove on in silence for a minute before adding, "Well, maybe one or two. Just for souvenirs of this adventure. Ouch! Stop poking me in that arm, it's getting sore" They both laughed.
CHAPTER TWELVE - EPILOGUE
The desert sun was hot but the pool water was cool and inviting. Suddenly the water broke into a thousand flying drops as Brian burst from underwater to gasp the edge and pull himself out. He shook his head and smiled down upon the beautiful naked form of Heather laying on a lounge. And he smiled again. Life was pretty good.
"Did you finally figure out how much that stuff you pulled from Natasha's was worth?" asked Heather.
"There were a lot of bearer bonds and stocks there. Plus some cash. A lot of cash. I figure the whole bundle comes to about ten million."
Heather whistled. "That's a good amount."
"Well, I figure Natasha's not going to need it any more, and it fixed my business up. Wonder how Natasha's doing?"
Heather shuttered. "With Katrina, I don't want to know. That woman is mad with the desire to hurt another girl. You know, giving Natasha to her is almost too much punishment for Natasha."
Brian just grunted.
"Maybe we should go back and rescue her," Heather continued. "One day. Don't want her to escape punishment altogether. Yes, that's a good idea. We'll wait a while then go rescue Natasha from Katrina." Heather looked up at Brian but he just cocked one eyebrow as in indication it was her decision. "Yes, in a few months." She pursed her lips in thought. "In a year. Or so."
Just them Dawn came up to them with a tray of tall, cool drinks. The lovely young girl was wearing nothing but a pair of handcuffs and a smile. She offered the drinks then returned to the large white house.
"Dawn's coming along fine," said Heather. "I've got her to forget Natasha. But she still doesn't feel comfortable unless she's wearing handcuffs. And she likes to be tied now and then."
"Like her older sister?" asked Brian, teasing.
"Like her older sister," repeated Heather with a smile.
As she looked at the golden wedding band on her finger, she thought about her arrangement with Brian. She was his wife. But she was also his slavegirl. Some of the time. It had taken a bit to work out the details so both of them were happy but there had been real love between and that helped find a way. At least two days of each week she was a slave and would be kept bound up. At least one weekend each month she would spend Friday night to Sunday night as a slavegirl, constantly bound or chained and teased, tormented or tortured as her master pleased. And ravished. She liked that part. The rest of the time she was his normal wife. Outsiders did not know of this relationship. Her daddy didn't even know.
And Brian was kind. Sure, he put her in some horrendous bondage, tight ropes crushing her limbs and positions that contort the human body. And he sometimes actually tortured her. Well, a little whipping now and then. And a bit of clothespins on the nipples, which had recovered completely from Katrina's alligator clips and now loved the attention. And sometimes he got a little playful and dragged her out into the desert behind a horse. Or boiled her in the spa. Or, like yesterday, when he buried her in the desert sand so that only her head was in the open. That was scary. But exciting. Their lovemaking had been something fierce that night. A little sandy, what with him ravishing her right after he freed her. But she was getting used to being screwed on the sandy floor of the desert. It wasn't so bad.
And she never insisted that he tie her only on two days per week. In reality, she was tied almost every night when they went to bed. She simply like it.
It was the best of all possible worlds, freedom when she wanted it and slavery when she felt like that. Which was most any time she was near that hunk of male animal.
Her thoughts were snapped back to the present by her husband's voice. "Mary Ann called. She wants to come out for the weekend."
"That teenager is going to drive us crazy. Can't she find some boyfriend to tie her up?"
"First off, you know as well as I that she would rather have a girlfriend than a boyfriend. Lesbian to the core."
"Don't I know it! Every since that first night when you let her loose upon my poor, tied down body, I've been well aware she is great at lesbian sex. And the way her arms bend up into that horrible bondage... I still don't understand how she can do it. My arms don't get anywhere near that far up. Neither does Dawn's. Nor Stephanie's."
"But she looks so cute tied that way. And so helpless."
"Stop licking your chops. You'll get your hands on her this weekend. Oh, damn! This is my weekend to be a full time slave. Can you handle two slavegirls?"
"I'll manage."
"I'll bet you will." Heather sighed. "I guess I'll be offered as a living sacrifice to her teenage tongue?"
"You don't mind it."
"No, I guess I don't. But I like your rod inside me, ramming away like a bull in rut. By the way, are you doing anything right now?"
"I'm got to go and check on Stephanie. She still insists that if we let her loose she'll go try to rescue Natasha. Such loyalty I've never seen."
"Well, we just won't let her loose until she's over this little hang-up of hers. What's she doing now?"
"Well, after Dawn described that Brank thing, I got the parts and set it up in one of the basement rooms."
"Great! I've wanted to see what that would look like on a girl ever since Dawn described it." She jumped up to put her arm in his. "But it won't give you ideas about putting me in it, will it?"
"Honey, when it comes to you, I've got plenty of ideas."
As they walked back to the house, Heather was wondering if that Brank thing could really be as bad as Dawn described it. Well, now that Brian had it set up, she would probably not have to wait long to find out.
