The raven-haired beauty standing before the two men was quite angry and made no attempt to hide the fact. "You can't do this to me!" she nearly screamed at them. "Oh, please stop this! If this is a joke, I don't think it's funny."
The ranting continued along those lines but it was only sound, the young woman, who was hardly out of her teens, could do no more than talk. Her lovely body was bound with ropes, tightly and very skillfully applied. Cotton rope, what used to be called clothesline, had been used and in sufficient quantities to ensure her captivity. Her arms had been tied behind her back, not only at the wrists but again just above the elbows, which had the effect of pulling back her shoulders and thrusting forward her large and shapely breasts. Her legs were bound, at the ankles and again above the knees, with rope tight enough to cut into her soft flesh. It was apparent that, without help, she would be unable to free herself. The bikini that constituted her only clothing had slipped down from one shoulder to reveal one of those nearly perfect breasts. Not that the tiny bits of thin fabric really concealed her wonderful body in the first place.
As she bombarded the men with protests and demands for immediate release, she turned from one to the other but directed most of the verbiage towards a man in his late twenties and rather handsome. The other man present, watching with amusement and excitement, was older and dressed in a pin-stripped business suit. The younger man was busy unbuckling a strap attached to which was a rubber ball. The ball was the kind might be purchased in many toy stores for children to play with, solid rubber but with a little give to make it bounce. A hole had been poked through the ball and the strap inserted. Just as the woman was about to repeat her treat to call the police, he inserted the ball into that lovely mouth, suddenly silencing the protests. The girl wiggled as she tried to free her arms to get her hands up to that ball now filling her mouth, but the ropes held her tightly. The man buckled the strap behind her head, securing the gag in place. Then he stepped back.
For a minute both of the men stood by and watched the delightful sight of a very sexy female struggling against tight ropes and to keep her balance. She was obviously trying to push the ball gag from her mouth. She did not succeed in freeing herself of the gag but she did succeed in putting on a very interesting show.
At last the older man sighed. "Such a lovely girl," he commented happily. "You are a fool to part with her. Not that I'm trying to change your mind! I've very glad that you wish to get rid of her." He paused another minute to enjoy the struggling and angry female form before him. "Such a lovely girl. Well, I had best be going. I want to get this package home."
The younger man smiled and approached the bound woman. Bending over, he put his shoulder into her midsection, wrapped an arm around the back of her legs and lifted her up to drape her over his shoulder. She was then carried to the garage, uttering vile threats into the ball gag and wiggling now and then against the ropes. In the garage he set her down next to a large car and waited while the older man opened the trunk.
"Now remember," he said as he lifted her into the trunk. "Don't take chances with her. Keep her bound in ropes at all times. Rope bondage works best." He laid her on her side on the floor of the trunk, her legs having to bend in order to fit. Taking a short piece of rope from his pocket, he tied one end to the ropes around her wrists. "She's tricky. Give her a chance and she'll be gone. Fortunately, she doesn't know where this place is or who I am. Make sure that she doesn't know who you are or where you live. That way, if she escapes, she can't lead police back to us."
"Don't worry. I'll keep her at my lodge. She won't get away."
"Good. Remember what I said, keep her in rope bondage all the time." He finished tying the rope to her ankles, forcing her legs bent into a hogtie. Then he turned to the other man.
"Have fun."
"I shall, oh indeed, I shall," assured the older man. He shook hands then slammed down the trunk lid. Eagerly he entered the car and drove out when the door was opened for him. The younger man stood there watching the large black car driving down the street in the late evening twilight. Finally, when it was completely out of sight, he shook his head. "Fool," he was all said.
* * *
It was not a long journey for the nearly naked and tightly bound girl in the trunk. It was uncomfortable riding back in the trunk, hot and with a hard surface under her. There was a carpet but it was meant only to protect luggage, not cushion a female body. The ropes were tight and that caused her discomfort, and the ball gag forced her jaw wide and that grew rather uncomfortable as time passed. But she had been in worse and simply bided her time until this man got her to his lodge, where ever that was.
About two hours later the car stopped and the engine cut off. A minute later the trunk lid opened, leaving the bound girl blinking at an overhead light. For a long time the man didn't move to lift her out or undo the ropes, he simply stared at her arched and bound up form, a smile of satisfaction on his face. Finally he reached down and, with difficulty, untied the knots binding her hands to her ankles. That small rope removed, he then worked on those wrapped around her ankles. Once the ankles were free, he lifted the woman out of the car, puffing and straining at a load that had been easy for the younger man. He set her feet down on the concrete floor of a small garage, then left her wobbling there while he fetched a pair of handcuffs from a wooden work bench.
"Got everything planned out," he said. "Gonna hobble your ankles before untying your knees. Wouldn't want you trying to kick me in the balls." He laughed at that little joke, the bound and gagged woman did not join in. Kneeling down, he locked the pair of handcuffs firmly on her ankles. While still kneeling, he work loose the ropes around her knees and allowed that rope to fall to the floor. For a while he remained on his knees, staring in wonder at the red rope marks indented into the flesh above her knees. Those ropes had been tight, very tight. He wondered if he would be able to bind her as tightly, but did not give voice to his wondering.
"I've got a very nice place set up for you," he said with a grunt as he got back up to his feet. "You won't be very comfortable but you also won't be escaping, that's for sure."
The "nice place" he had for her was a bedroom with a chain. As they walked into the house from the garage, she could see that it was a fair sized house, rustic in decor, perhaps three or four bedrooms, and was set among a pine forest. No other houses were visible. She was careful not to snub her ankles very hard as her bare feet took tiny steps. The man had to hold her arm while she stepped up into the kitchen.
The bedroom was at the back of the house, a small bedroom, containing only a single bed and a box on the floor next to one wall. And the chain. Attached to one wall at the base was a large metal half circle. The circle of metal ended in a flat plate and that was bolted to the wall. Through that hoop a chain was threaded and locked with a padlock. The other end of the chain had another padlock locked on the end link.
He motioned for her to stand by the bed then to sit on it. Producing a key from his vest pocket, he unlocked one of the handcuffs on her ankles and locked that cuff back on the other ankle, leaving both cuffs locked on the same ankle. Then he produced another key and unlocked the padlock. A second later that padlock was secured through both the end of the chain and the link chain of the handcuffs, effectively chaining her ankle to the wall. There was just enough chain to allow her to walk to the door. A second door near where the chain was bolted to the wall held a bathroom, or so she assumed.
"You can move around some but not much," he informed uselessly. "The window is barred on the outside and locked on the inside. But you can't reach the window, anyway, so forget about that. The drape will, of course, remain pulled down."
He sat down on the bed next to her. "I will keep your ankle chained to the wall as security. I will also keep your hands tied or handcuffed." His breathing was coming harder. His eyes had found and were staring at the exposed breast. Finally he could resist it no more and his hand went out to touch that breast. The woman pulled back and shook in anger. But the ropes continued to hold her arms behind her back and push those rather large breasts forward.
"Stay still," he commanded. "I can punish you, you know." That idea seemed to make him every more excited, to judge by the increase in breathing and glow in his eyes. As if the idea of being punished frightened her, the woman ceased pulling back and slid forward until her breast was within easy reaching distance. When his hand cupped the smooth skin of the heavy breast, she lifted her eyes to the ceiling and moaned into the gag in obvious displeasure. But as much as she seemed to loath his touch, he became that much more excited. Quickly his other hand was fumbling with the strings of her bikini to free her other breast of the tiny garment. As his head lowered to allow his mouth to suck on that taunt nipples, she seemed to be trying to tell him to stop that. But every time she began to pull away, she stopped and forced herself to endure his advances.
Soon, with the eagerness and fumbling of a school boy on his first heavy date, he was trying to undo the strings at each hip that held up the ounce or so of material covering her most private part. He practically tore away the bikini then froze, staring at the patch of dark hair revealed. As if he had never seen one before, his trembling hand approached the shinning curls. Suddenly it was pulled back. The girl whined when she saw him hurrying off his clothes. The body wasn't much but at least the rod was at attention, eager for a treat such as it had not had in a long time.
He pushed her back on the bed and forced himself between her legs. She protested into the ball gag and struggled as his body pressed down on hers. As he guided his weapon into her sheath, she was shaking her head back and forth, uttering pitiful cries, and wiggling her hips as if to push him away but having only the effect of making him more excited.
She could feel his hot breath on her shoulder as he grunted and pumped away at her sex. Laying on her back put strain on her arms, but fortunately that did not last long. Like that over- eager school boy, he was not long in coming. Soon his tool was limp and he lay next to her on the bed, panting much harder than she was.
Finally he got up and began replacing his clothing. The girl lifted herself into a sitting position and moaned. When she got his attention, she turned her back to show her bound arms and made noises to indicate that she was suffering. When he finally got his belt buckled, he began removing the ropes that had so tightly held her arms together behind her. There were red rope marks, same as had been on her legs, and her arms hung limp when the final ropes were off. She did not move her fingers, perhaps they were numb.
His first impulse was to offer aid but the resolve to be a firm master stiffened his back bone. Instead of allowing her a chance to recover the use of her hands, he pulled them behind her, crossed them, and bound them with one of the ropes he had taken from her legs. He tied the knots as well as he could but it was obvious that the bondage was not as tight or as secure as that which had been on her when he accepted delivery. Still, he seemed satisfied that she would remain helpless. Besides, even if she managed to work off the ropes, there was still the handcuffs and chain securing her ankle to the wall.
This man fully intended to be a firm master, keeping his slavegirl under constant control and knowing who was boss. But he was not without compassion. Before leaving, he unbuckled the gag strap and gently pulled the ball from her mouth. There were red marks on the cheeks at each side of her mouth to show how tight that gag had been.
With a sigh of contentment at owning this fine new toy, her lord and master turned and left her bedroom/cell.
For awhile the girl just lay there, crying softly to herself. After all, she had just been brutally bound, shipped in a trunk, and raped, not to mention kidnapped not long before all this.
The crying lasted only as long as she could hear any movement in the house. And after the noises stopped, she lay on her side, quiet but not asleep. Finally, much deeper into the night, she moved.
First she slid from the bed to the carpeted floor. Then she made her way in the dark to the bathroom door. The light switch worked and she pulled her chained ankle in the bathroom as far as it would go. She closed the door until it was almost closed, held open only by the chain laying on the floor. Bending over, she lowered her crossed wrists down the back of her body. The wrists cleared her bottom easily and went down to her knees. There she lifted the foot without the handcuffs and placed it between her arms. Then the other foot Finally she straightened up, bringing her hands up until they were in front of her face. Reaching up, she worked her fingers into her long, very full head of hair just above one ear. When they withdrew there was a very small blade held between the thumb and one finger. With wrist bent down, she managed to cut one rope around her wrists, then another and another.
Three were enough, so she carefully placed the blade on the counter and worked the ropes off her wrists. With hands free, she replaced the tiny blade in the hidden hairpin.
A slim length of stiff wire came from a hiding place on the other side of her head. The end was bent at a right angle, which allowed her to use it as a pick on the handcuffs locked around her ankle. From start to finish, the escape had taken only five minutes. She replaced the pick and stood up with a deep breath. That part had been easy. Now she had to find her way out of a strange house while naked, and somehow get to a safe place.
Back in the bedroom she picked up the bottom of what had been her bikini then discarded it when she found the strings tom out on one side. Naked it would have to be.
It would have been nice to search the house for clothing but she didn't know where she would find any, save, of course, for the bedroom of the man who had bought her and raped her. And she wasn't going to go looking in there. So she made her way out into the dark and cold night wearing only a look of determination.
The car was waiting a short distance away where it could watch the house but not be seen easily. The man sitting in the dark car picked up a flashlight when he saw the pale shape of a naked woman leaving the house. The brief gleam from that flashlight held with fingers over the front told her where safety was. In a minute she was sliding into the car, putting her arms around the man and kissing him passionately. It was the same man who had bound and gagged her, then given her away.
"Any problems, sweetheart?"
"No. He made the mistake of not checking for the blade or pick."
"Fool."
"Oh, Tom, I love you." She kissed him again. Then she rubbed her breasts against his chest. "Oh, Tom, could we make love right here? Right now? He screwed me but it was over so fast I got nothing from it."
"Better not to hang around, sweetheart." He released the brake and the car began coasting down the dark room. After it was far enough from the house, he started the engine and turned on the light. A mile farther ahead, just before they were to turn onto a larger road he stopped the car. She was pressing her naked body against him and her fingers were playing with the budge in his pants.
"Come on, Melody. I've got to drive."
"Just a quickie?" she asked in a husky voice. "I'm tired," he retorted. "I had to stay up waiting for you. I would have been up all night if he had fixed you more securely."
"He was an amateur," she said sarcastically. "But you're not. Oh, Tom, I want you to make love to me. Now. Right now."
He pulled the car to the side of the road and shut off the engine. In the dark her advances became more bold and insistent. Her lips found his and the kiss was long and overflowing with passion. He returned it but finally broke off.
"All right! You little slut! You asked for it!" He opened the door and got out of the car. He held open her door and said, "Get out."
"Oh, Tom, right here! On the pine needles? Oh, neat!"
"You know what I mean." His voice was firm but not harsh. She got out of the car to stand naked before the man she loved. From a briefcase on the back seat he took a length of rope. With a sigh, Melody turned and crossed her wrists behind her back. In less than a minute those wrists were tightly bound with rope both cinched firmly and knotted three times.
"Get in the back seat," he ordered. "Oh, Tom, please...?"
"In." Melody got into the car, positioning herself, with some difficulty, on her stomach on the seat. He took both feet in his strong hands and wrapped more rope around them. A moment later the rope from her ankles was being pulled between her arms and back to her ankles. A little tugging and her legs were pulled up into a moderate hogtie.
"Oh, Tom, you brute! I'm on fire and you play around tying me up. I hate you!"
It was obvious from the tone in her voice that she really didn't hate him. She would have liked to have sex right there and there, even on the pine needles of the forest floor, but she was also excited by this treatment. And there was also the fact that she knew she would get a good screwing when they got back to the house. A few hours of driving with a naked, bound girl in the back seat would assure that Tom was hot, bothered and homy when they reached their home. "You're terrible," she added for good measure.
He grunted agreement and covered her with a blanket. It would be nearly dawn when their journey was finished and it was probably better not to have any truck drivers looking down into a back seat filled with naked, tied up girl. 'Tom, I want that great, big prong of yours! I want it in me, right now! Oh, you beast." Her protests were muffled by the blanket and brought a smile to his face. It was fun to tease a nude girl this way, making her helpless and withholding the sexual satisfaction she so desperately desired. He knew as well as she that they would both be ready for some intense lovemaking when they were back in their bedroom.
The trip was long and punctuated by occasional derisive comments and protests from the bound-up form under the blanket. Melody alternated between ordering him to release her and promising sexual delights if he would only pull the car over and come visit her in the back seat. He responded by reminding her that she was taken up to that forest cabin in a trunk and she could damned well be driven home in another. That didn't silence her for long. He suspected, knowing her love of bondage adventures, that she had enjoyed that drive in the trunk, and probably wouldn't really mind going home in his trunk. The bondage had certainly been up to their standards, which was always a turn-on to her. And the excitement of being taken by a stranger into who knows what fate would have stimulated her imagination, not to mention her sexual organs: Melody was, you see, a girl who loved being bound with ropes and made helpless more than anything else in the world.
And she loved any kind of adventure that involved her being helpless.
Tom carried her from the garage into the house and dumped her on the bed. The morning sun was just beginning to lighten the room as he pulled off his clothes and removed the rope from her feet. Rolling her over on bound wrists, he spread her legs roughly apart to provide access for his rigid tool, a much more massive and girl- satisfying rod than had earlier been used on Melody. Her love tunnel was moist and ready, and the squeal as his shaft plunged into it was of delight, not pain.
Their lovemaking continued until the sun was well above the horizon and until both were exhausted. Melody fell asleep in Tom's arms, her wrists still bound behind her. That was not an unusual situation with this couple, she was often bound all night in much stricter bondage than this. Had he tried to be a gentlemen and untie her wrists, she would have protested and been sincerely angry.
* * *
Melody had been only eighteen when she met Tom, a stockbroker establishing his career. On the first date they both felt a strong attraction for each other and wound up in bed. After two couplings that had been most satisfying to both of them, Tom had produced a short length of rope and waved it before a pair of female eyes wide with interest and excitement. Without a word, Melody turned and crossed her wrists behind her back. They made love twice more before the morning, and her wrists remained bound behind her until well into the next day.
To say that she loved being tied with ropes would be an understatement. There had been some playing around with such when she was a younger teenager but with Tom her inner love of restraints bloomed into full blossom. Soon she was suggesting ways for him to tie her, often tighter and more contorted positions than he would have suggested. And she criticized him whenever the ropes were less than tight. The one time she was able to escape from his ropes she almost left him. He learned his lesson. Melody was never been able to escape from his bondage since. In fact, she often found herself tightly bound up and stored away in a bedroom, the garage, the back yard, or some closet in what they called "Contests." She was to try to escape. If she succeeded, she would be rewarded. If she failed, she would be punished--usually by being left in the bondage she was in for additional hours, and often being placed in one of their special "punishment" positions. Those were tie-ups where the restraints and position were so strict as to cause discomfort ranging mild to downright painful. Melody was often left all night in a severe hogtie as punishment for failing to escape, or for some other minor transgression.
They developed a circle of friends who shared their love of the erotic and esoteric, the different and exciting. Eventually they came to holding parties where naked and bound up women were scattered around the house, and strange and lovely rituals mixing sex and restraints were performed. Melody was often displayed before this select group of people in bondage and varying degrees of undress. She found a strong pleasure from showing off her fine body to appreciative people, especially when the ropes were extra tight. And she glowed in the knowledge that Tom was proud to show her off.
Melody loved every minute of their different lifestyle, both for her own feelings while it was happening, and because she knew Tom loved doing it to her, watching her struggle, and knowing that he completely controlled this lovely creature. And she knew that sooner or later his excitement would prove too much and she would get raped, often while still bound. It was a very happy relationship.
Then why, you ask, had Tom given a restrained and helpless Melody to a strange man to take home and keep?
The answer to that goes back a year to a period when the economy was bad and Tom's business faring worst than most. It began to look as if they would have to sell the house, a quite comfortable home in the California hills overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Neither wanted to part with a place they had come to love, and had modified to suit purposes. If they had to move, they would have to remove those metal rings bolted to the floor and walls and ceiling here and there. They would have to remodel the basement, for most buyers would probably not want a dungeon complete with pillory, stocks and a whipping post. The whipping post was seldom actually used for whipping, and then only rather mild ones when one or both of them found themselves in the mood for such activities.
One night as they lay in bed, Melody with her arms bound behind her with rope, elbows together because she had asked to be tied tightly, things came to a head. Try as she might with her lovely body and talented tongue, Tom was just not responding in a manner to her liking. It was obvious that he was worried about something and didn't have his mind in the bedroom.
"Honey, what is it?" she asked, sitting up beside him.
"Another account canceled," he finally answered. "Things aren't looking too good."
"We need money, don't we?"
"A fair amount," he responded. "Or we'll have to put the house up for sale. And the real estate market is slow right now. Might be a while before we get a buyer."
For a long time Melody leaned against the headboard and thought. When the ideas fell into place, she offered a suggestion, she licked her lips, grinned and said, "Why don't you sell me?"
Tom turned to her with a surprised look on his face. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you have a lot of rich friends, right?"
"Yes."
"And some of them have seen me naked and tied up at the parties?"
"Yes."
"And didn't Matt Rose ask you the other day if he could have me for a weekend? And didn't he offer you a lot of money for that privilege?"
Tom didn't answer right away. "He did. I didn't know you heard that part."
"Well, that just proves that there are men who would pay money to have me as their slavegirl, if only for a weekend."
"But that's prostitution!" protested Tom.
"Oh, I know that. But I'm not suggesting that you sell me by the night. I have something different in mind." She looked shrewdly at Tom. "Supposing the man who bought me thought he was getting me permanently?"
"Permanently? You can't mean that."
"Of course I don't mean it. But what if he thought that was the set-up? Wouldn't some of those men pay a great deal of money to own a woman like me? A woman who they could keep in constant restraints? A slavegirl, in other words?"
For a while Tom thought about it. "You're right about their wanting to do it. I know people who have so much money that they really couldn't spent it all in their lifetimes. And some of them would probably consider buying a girl. Slavegirl, you call it. But I don't want to part with you. We'll live in a motel if we have to but I'm not letting you go. I love you." Tom sounded genuinely pained at the thought.
But Melody was ready with a reply. "I remember," she began, "a story about the dove sellers in ancient times. They would have a table outside the temple where they sold white doves. The worshipers would buy the doves then set them free within the temple as an offering. Thought the doves were taking a message up to heaven, or something." She shifted on the bed to put her arms in a different position. Tom was watching her with intent interest.
"Well, the trick was that those doves were trained to return to the dove sellers. They were like homing pigeons. They would fly out of the temple and straight to the home of the dove seller. Then the next day he would sell them again. Quite a racket, heh?"
"And you're saying that you would simply return home after being sold? You seem to be forgetting that those doves weren't bound with ropes or handcuffed. If I sold you, the man who bought you would keep you restrained. He wouldn't want you to get free. Slavery is illegal in this country, remember? He'd be afraid of you going to the police."
"I wouldn't go to the police."
"You're missing the point. He would keep you tied up or chained up every minute. You couldn't get free to fly back home."
"You've said that I'm pretty good at working free of ropes. And you showed me how to pick a pair of handcuffs with a paper clip. Remember? I think I could get away."
"You don't get free anymore when I tie you. And you won't always have a paper clip. No, it's too risky, I won't do it."
'Tom... We need the money...." For a long time Tom glared at her, angry that she would suggest some stupid plan that might well keep her away from him forever. Then he recognized the look in her eyes. This was another bondage adventure to her. The beautiful slavegirl being sold on the auction block and hauled away in chains to a lifetime of sexual slavery. He could almost see those images dancing around in her mind.
"It isn't a game," he said quietly. "It's a big risk. I suppose if you escaped, the man wouldn't go to the police with a missing property report. And he couldn't very well blame me for his failure to hold on to his property. But we're talking about conditions that will be designed to keep you a prisoner. And there are plenty of people who love to hurt girls. You could be hurt badly. This isn't a game," he repeated.
"I know...." Melody's reply was almost a whisper. She leaned over and kissed him gently. "I know I'm attracted to it because it's like one of our games. And it does sound exciting to a submissive little fool like me. But I also understand the danger."
She waited a moment before adding, "It's the only way we'll save our house. I love it here. I love you."
Tom took her in his arms and kissed her with feeling. No more words were exchanged that night, but they shared much, mostly with Melody laying on bound arms while Tom mounted her to give them both a glorious ride.
The next day they talked about it again. And the day after that. But business didn't look any better at the end of the week and their savings were dwindling. After a week of argument, Tom gave into Melody's logic. They began looking for a buyer for her.
He wouldn't have been willing but for a demonstration Melody put on the day before. They went over to a friend's house, one for the couples who came to their special parties, and there Melody asked the man to tie her up as well as he could. Pretend, she explained, that I'm a prisoner and you don't want me to escape. You're tying me up for the night. Then she tossed her clothes off and the man could hardly refuse her request, that gorgeous naked thing standing before him and begging for it. He did his best, leaving her laying on the floor with arms bound behind her back and legs lashed together. There was even rope from ankles to wrists, making it a mild hogtie. There was at least a hundred feet of rope binding Melody, and it didn't look too badly done. But the rope was not nearly as tight as Tom bound her and there was only single knots and only one of those on each piece of rope. Melody's fingers worked around and found knots. Her body shook and loosened a rope here and there a little. In five minutes she was standing in front of her audience, holding the ropes up before her.
Then she challenged the man's wife to bind her so she couldn't escape. This woman had been tied up many times and probably understood the ropes better than her husband. The ropes went on tighter. The knots were farther away from the fingers. It was also a hogtie, but with more arch on the body and the feet much closer to the wrists. The package left on the floor when she stepped back was much more secure looking that before.
Melody had to strain harder but she found and worked at each bit of slack in the ropes. Knots were moved to where fingers could reach. The watchers enjoyed the show of a lovely female body wiggling and arching within rope bonds, but it lasted only ten minutes before she was again standing there, holding ropes out to Tom to emphasis her point.
Later, at home and while Melody was enjoying an extra tight hogtie that she couldn't work her way out of, Tom admitted that she had proven a point. Even people who are used to bondage as their friends of that night were still don't tie as well as they could. Or as good as needed to keep a skilled and determined girl from escaping. And that Melody was very good at escaping from bondage those people put on. But, Tom emphasized, there are people who know how to put on the ropes. She was currently helpless because such a person had tied her, he pointed out.
The argument went on but Melody knew she had won. Finally Tom gave in, but only after promising that they would not sell her to anyone who showed signs of really knowing what they were doing. Amateurs only, Tom assured, and Melody agreed. She was excited at this great adventure coming up but really didn't want to be kept away from the man she loved forever.
Two weeks later Melody was sold for the first time in her life.
CHAPTER TWO - A SLAVEGIRL IS SOLD
The first customer was selected and forces set in motion to make him become the proud owner of a beautiful slavegirl.
His name was Walter Winters and he was freshly divorced, on the hunt for sex, and filthy rich, all of which qualified him as a potential mark. Tom and Melody had discussed what Tom would look for in a customer and Walter fit the bill fairly well. When Tom had let slip a comment during a business lunch about girls being tied up, Walter came back with remarks that showed he knew the basics and was interested. After that it wasn't hard to Tom to come back a few days later and ask if Walter might be interested in owning a slavegirl. It was a theoretical question, of course, but it got Walter to thinking and imagining. A day later, when Tom invites him out to dinner and them over to his house, with a big hint that there would be something very interesting for him to see, Walter accepted quickly.
Tom and Walter settled into the lounge with brandy after getting home from a good dinner. A little casual conversation allowed them time to settle their dinner, then Walter brought up the subject Tom was waiting for.
"Will, Tom, what was the reason you wanted me to see?
You hinted it would be something special."
Tom carefully set down his drink and looked hard at Walter. "Walter," he began in a very conspiratorial tone, "can I trust you to keep a secret?"
"Of course."
Tom could see Walter's eyes light up. He sucked in a deep breath, as if about to do something difficult. But, "Come with me," was all he said.
At the end of the hallway was an unused bedroom. Only a few cardboard boxes set to one side occupied the room. Walter's eyebrows lifted when he was led into the bare room. Tom held up one finger in a motion tell him to wait, then he went to the closet door where he placed his finger before his mouth in an order to remain quiet. Dramatically he opened the door and stood back to allow Walter a good view of the contents of the closet.
Walter gasped aloud. Standing in the closet was about the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Large, full breasts and very long, shapely legs. Narrow tummy and smooth skin. Shinning black hair cascading down and covering one breast so only the nipple peeked out. And she was bound with ropes and gagged! Walter took another step forward and sucked in his breath. Yes, he was right! This girl was very tightly bound with white cotton clothesline rope, arms behind her back, elbows crushed together, legs tied at ankles and above and below the knees. There was also rope wrapped around her waist holding her arms tight against her body. There was a ball gag in her mouth which he knew from reading enough special men's magazines would prevent any speech. A black sleep mask covered her eyes as a blindfold. There was a leather collar around her neck and a rope from that collar to a ring set in the back of the closet keep her standing there. Her lovely head turned this way and that and she whined a little. But then her head hung down again as if she were exhausted. She leaned against the back wall again to the limit her tether allowed.
Tom could almost feel the sexual surge that raced through Walter's body. He felt the same way, so lovely and exciting was this sight. And he knew what to expect for he had tied her there. To Walter, poor fellow, this was a big surprise. Tom allow him to look for a while, let the full impact of Melody's lovely body and tight bondage sink in. When he judged the time was right he put his hand on Walter's arm and gently pulled him back. It took a little silent coaxing to get him back far enough to close the closet door. Then he ushered Walter down the hall and back to the lounge.
Walter gulped some brandy and choked on it. "My Gawd, what a beautiful sight! I've never seen a girl tied like that. Those ropes were so tight! And she's quite a looker." Tom just nodded. "What... ? I mean, why... ? What's going on? Why is she tied up like that?"
Like a fisherman who had just set the hook, he began reeling in the catch of the day. "It's a bit of a story," he began. "Her name is Rachael. I happened upon her accidentally. Sort of. You see, I driving home from a friend's cabin in the mountains. I was on a side road that is little used and hadn't even seen another car for half an hour. Suddenly I saw this bundle on the side of the road. I stopped when I realized that it was a naked woman! Well, I was even more surprised when I found that she was handcuffed. There was a pair of handcuffs on her wrists behind her back and another pair on her ankles. She was unconscious. I didn't have anything to open the handcuffs with, so I simply put her in the car and drove home." He paused to sip brandy.
"But, man, how did she get into that closet! Get on with the story!"
"Well, it seemed that she was simply sleeping and not hurt, so I brought her home. I mean, she is really lovely, isn't she? I didn't feel like taking her to a police station or something. I had this urge to keep her. You know what I mean?" Tom could tell Walter knew. "Well, when I got home I carried her up to the bedroom and put her on the bed while I went looking for something to open the handcuffs. A minute later I heard some chains rattling so I went back to the bedroom. There she was, awake, sitting on the bed, jerking against the handcuffs. When she saw me, she pulled back and tried to get away. She was scared of me." He paused to partake of the brandy again, leaving Walter on the edge of his seat.
"Well, to make a long story short, she was kidnapped. Someone had snuck up behind her while she was hiking and hit her over the head. When she woke up, she was naked, handcuffed and being raped. It was dark and she couldn't see the man. She fainted. When she awoke again, she was laying on a strange bed and a man was coming in. That's how she met me.
"Well, all this came out slowly. She thought I was the one who had raped her and locked those handcuffs on her. She wasn't thinking too straight. She kept accusing me of kidnapping her and wouldn't listen to my story. It didn't help that I couldn't take the handcuffs off when she kept demanding that I do. She thought that I didn't want to.
"That was yesterday. When she began screaming, I had to stop her. She is convinced that I kidnapped her and was threatening to tell the police. I had to gag her to keep her from making enough noise to alert the neighbors. You know, Walter, I work for a very conservative company. Any hint of a scandal and they'll drop me like a hot potato. I couldn't have her going to the police with a story that I kidnapped her. And I have no alibi. I was alone all weekend at a friend's cabin. No way to prove that."
Tom paused again to sigh deeply. "So there I am. I had this naked and hysterical woman on my hands. Not only couldn't I get her handcuffs off, I had actually gagged her with a dish towel and a belt to hold it in place. She just won't listen to me. Maybe the whole things unhinged her a bit but she kept accusing me of the crime. Last night I managed to find a hacksaw to take off the handcuffs but she began to fight me as soon as I got one wrist free. I actually had to tie her hands behind her back before I could saw off the rest of the handcuffs. And I had to tie her legs together to keep her from kicking me.
"I tried to reason with her but she kept kicking at me and trying to scream. I couldn't get anywhere with her. She kept me awake half the night whining and bumping against the wall. I had to tie her to my bed to keep her from crawling out of the house during the night. I slept on the couch. This morning I had to do something to keep her quiet and secure for the day while I thought of what to do. All I could think of was to keep her in that closet. I had to tie her elbows together and all those other ropes as tightly as I could because that was the only way to keep her from struggling enough to get free. I guess those tight ropes hurt too much when a girl struggles against them. I put her in the closet to keep her quite. Also made that ball gag because the towel gag didn't work that well."
Tom set back in his seat as if exhausted by the story. He waited to see if Walter was buying this ridiculous story.
"So what are you going to do with her?" asked Walter. Tom detected a slight tremor in his voice and knew Walter had swallowed the whole stupid tale.
"I don't know. I can't just let her go, she'll run right to the police. And I have to get her out of here, I can't keep her." He paused for half a minute before leaning forward and continuing in a serious voice. "I was thinking today about what you said last week. About how nice it would be to own a slavegirl." Tom ignored the fact that it was he who had brought up the subject and Walter didn't correct him. He was swallowing the line without question. "And wouldn't this be a lovely slavegirl to own. She's beautiful. She's got a figure that can drive men mad. And no one knows she's here. She was kidnapped far from here. There's no way she will be traced to us. You have that house and live alone, you could keep her a prisoner and no one would ever know."
Tom had to keep from laughing at the way Walter was nodding in agreement and almost drooling, so over eager to be a co-conspirator in this plot. Or, more likely, to get his hands on that beautiful girl.
"And... Well, I guess I should tell you the truth. I need money. There's been some problems at the company and I haven't been getting the commissions I've expected. So...." He left the next step in this logical chain dangling in front of a heavy breathing Walter.
It took him only fifteen seconds to come up with that next step. "You mean... You're going to sell her?!"
"Strange as it sounds, that seems to be a good solution for all of us. I get her out of here. I get the money I desperately need. And you get a slavegirl to own. Do you think you can handle her? I mean, you'll have to keep her tied up all the time. Or chained, or whatever. She'll be a permanent love slave. You could use her any time you wanted. You could whip her whenever you wished." Tom let that last suggestion trail off into a hiss. The glass in Walter's hand trembled. Then he set the hook. "I do have another man who I think would like to have her... If you don't want her, of course."
Walter gulped. "How... How much?" he stuttered. Tom sighed. To Walter it might have been that he really didn't want to have to do this, but the sigh was really because all the hard part was over now. The sucker was hooked and all that remained was to finish up the details.
Tom had suspected that the sight of Melody naked and bound up in that closet would evoke lust in any man, but the intensity was even more than he had hoped for. This man was so eager to purchase this slavegirl that he hardly haggled over the price, ridiculously high as it was. But then he had more money than any man needs.
When Melody and he planned this little show, he had wanted to go home in the middle of the afternoon to bind her in the closet. Then he would return to work, meet Walter after hours, take him to dinner and them home to show off his unwanted guest. But Melody insisted that she be tied in the morning before Tom leave for his office. That way, she argued, she would look more exhausted when Walter saw her. He was suppose to believe that she had been there all day, and the best way to make it look right would be to leave her there all day. And, boy, had it worked!
The rest was details. Walter gave Tom a person check for a huge amount. Tom helped take the naked and bound girl to Walter's car and lock her in the trunk. He cautioned Walter about not letter her get away, then wished him enjoyment with his new slavegirl. Every time Tom said the word "slavegirl" he could see a shiver of delight run down Walter's back. He practically drooled on her naked form laying on the floor of his trunk. Tom hoped that he would drive carefully all the way home.
Then came the hard part for Tom. He watched the car drive away with the love of his life in the trunk. All he could do was wait now. He went back inside to finish his brandy.
The next morning, Tom was at the bank as soon as it opened, getting that check cashed. The bank admitted that there was sufficient funds and handed over a certified check. Half an hour later the money was deposited in Tom's account. He then went to his office. It wasn't easy to try to concentrate on stocks while he didn't know what was happening to Melody. There was so much that could go wrong. At lunch he saw Walter in the restaurant but did not go up to him. Walter seemed very happy and was buying lunch and drinks for friends. Tom hoped he wasn't bragging.
The afternoon crawled slowly as snails. Finally he was able to get into his car and drive home, praying that he would find Melody there but fearful that the house would be empty.
They had made plans but didn't know what Walter would do. They knew that he would leave Melody in his house the next day, surely bound or chained up. Would Melody be able to free herself from those restraints? Or would the end of her first day as a sold slavegirl find her still prisoner of a man old enough to be her father?
Walter's house wasn't very far from theirs. Melody could easily find her way home. If she escaped, that is. They had made plans for her failure to escape. If, after three days Melody was not home under her own power, Tom would sneak into Walter's house during the day and rescue her. They hoped that it would look like Melody escaped herself, without help, and the best way to do that would be to have her do it herself.
Tom rushed in from the garage and sighed with relief when he saw Melody sitting on a bar stool sipping a drink. She was naked, her ankles joined with a pair of handcuffs and her wrists handcuffed behind her back. The drink had a straw in it to allow her to sip it. "Hi, Tom," she said cheerfully as he came in. "Had a nice day at the office?"
"You little tart! Gosh, am I glad to see you!" He hugged her and kissed those ripe lips. There was passion in both of their kisses. As he carried her to the bedroom, he asked, "How did you get home with those handcuffs on? And naked?"
"Oh, I put these on this afternoon while I was waiting for you. And I though that having no clothes and being all chained up would be a nice surprise for you."
He dumped her on the bed and fetched a handcuff key to removed them from her ankles. He left those on her wrists in place as he removed his clothes. "Well, sweetheart, tell me your tale. How was it being a slavegirl?"
"Delightful! It was so exciting to be carried away all naked and helpless! When you slammed the lid of his trunk I thought I was going to have an orgasm right then and there."
"Well, you did spend all day in that closet. I know you well enough to know that how homy that makes you."
"Oh, I was homy enough all right. But it was so exciting having to wait there all day in those tight ropes, knowing that before midnight I would be carried away as the possession of a strange man. You do realize that I had never even seen Walter before."
"He didn't... Well, did he?" Tom and Melody had discussed the very real possibility that Walter would perform sexual intercourse on his new slavegirl as soon as he could. Tom didn't like that part of the plan but Melody overrode his protests. She hadn't been a virgin when she met him, she pointed out, being a healthy, sexually active teenager girl with strong desires, and was no stranger to sex with a man she had met only shortly before. That hurt Tom until she kissed him and told him that Walter might use her body once or twice but her love was his. And the body would soon be returning for him to own, too.
"Of course, he screwed me," she informed casually. "Damned near dropped me carrying me into the bedroom," she continued. "And he fumbled with the ropes trying to get my legs free. But he managed and rolled me over on to my tied arms. He was in such a hurry that he left in the gag, the blindfold on, and his pants bunched up around his ankles. Oh, Tom, that feels good! You can touch me there all you want. Well, he came so fast that I wasn't sure he had really started. Oh! I love the way you do that. And don't worry, I took a shower when I got home. Ahhhhhhh! That's nice!"
The conversation didn't continue for quite a while, not until they were both laying satisfied on the bed.
"Did you have any trouble getting free?" asked Tom.
"Not really. That guy is am amateur. He crossed my wrists behind me after his little quickie and tied my ankles together. For a long time he didn't seem to want to take my gag out. Finally he asked me if I would be quiet if he took it out and I nodded. I was a very submissive, nice little slavegirl. I didn't say a word. He tied a rope from my ankles to the end of the bed and let me sleep next to him. Did you know he snores? Of course you don't. In the morning he didn't seem to know what to do. Except, of course that he wanted to have sex again. I don't think that guy has had sex lately. Both times he came almost immediately. No wonder his wife divorced him. He's probably never satisfied a woman in his life."
"How did he leave you in the morning?" asked Tom as he lightly stroked the underside of one magnificent breast.
"He just left me tied like I was all night. He should have tied me like you did in the closet: tight and escape- proof. But he left me on the bed with my hands crossed behind me and my ankles together. Actually, I could have escaped any time during the night but I had to wait until he was gone. You said you had to have time to cash the check."
"Right. If he found you gone before he left for his office, he might just put a stop payment on the check."
"Well, I simply bent in half and worked my hands down to my ankles and untied the ropes there. Glad I don't have a big ass. Then I brought my hands in front of me and worked out the one knot with my teeth. Actually, I could have worked the ropes off my wrists with them still behind me. They weren't cinched down too tightly and there was only one knot. I could have worked it down to where I could get at it. But it was far easier to bring my hands around to the front and untie the knot with my teeth. It was easy."
"Good."
"I found a pair of pants and shirt that more or less fit me, some money on the dresser and I was gone. I took a cab home. Oh, you're doing it to me again, you cad! That feels good."
A strong male hand was playing with her pussy while the other held the link chain of her handcuffs to keep her from bringing her hands around to the front.
"I thought about calling you at your office," she said between gasps, "to let you know that I was free but decided that a little worry would do you good. Make you appreciate me more."
"I was worried, all right. And you'll pay for that."
"You mean...?"
"You'll spend the night in a hogtie," he said firmly.
That order made shivers race down her spine. "With gag," he added and she felt her pussy get all tingly. She moaned as his fingers teased her sex.
"Is that all," she said in little gasps as her body warmed up again.
"Maybe," he said. "What would you suggest." He rolled over on top of her and spread her legs wide.
"I... OH! I was really a bad girl for not calling you. Oh, I love that. I think that... That...." She didn't finish the sentence until much later. Like a sleepy little girl, she curled up against her man and rested her head on his chest. "A hogtie for the night is okay," she whispered, "but not a real punishment Not for such a bad girl. I think you should leave me in that closet all day tomorrow. Just like you did yesterday."
"Good idea," he said as he slid out of bed to get the ropes for her hogtie. "But it's only the start of a good idea. You'll spend every day in that closet for a full week. Seven days from morning to evening. How's that sound?"
"Yes, Master," she purred.
The ropes bit into her wrists and she sighed with contentment. When they dug into her elbows, she felt her loins heating up again and hoped that he would be up to another lovemaking session. If not, she would be homy all night long. Torture, to be sure, but a delicious kind of torture.
When her arms were bound tightly behind her, she suggested another romp between her legs before he tied them together. She got her wish. When he did tie the legs and bent them back up, he tied the ankles to her elbows, arching her into a very uncomfortable hogtie, more strict that usual. The feet didn't reach the elbows but her heels were half way up the forearms towards them. It was a very taunt hogtie. Yet Melody was so lost in the afterglow of wonderful sex and the excitement of this stimulation that she didn't really notice beyond a vague recognition that the promised hogtie was happening. That made her feel good inside.
* * *
Thus it was that Tom and Melody began a very profitable sideline in selling a slavegirl to men who had more money than sense. The stories differed, but always involved Tom coming into possession of this lovely female and wanting to sell her. They always picked people who had not met Melody before and who showed an interest in bondage, discipline, domination, or, as was more common, all of the above. And it never ceased to amaze Tom and Melody that there were so many men willing to part with a large amount of money to own, actually OWN, a lovely female. It was certainly illegal to sell a woman, as illegal as it was to hold one prisoner. But the men they were selling her to were not unused to illegal activities. Perhaps they didn't rob people with a gun, but insider trading, price fixing, bribery, fraud, and assorted financial schemes of questionable legality were the stock-in- trade of these men. In short, holding a girl prisoner against her will was an exciting game to them, and certainly not something to be feared. Tom even, in fact, cautioned them against allowing their captive to escape. Melody was well bound up and secured when delivered to them, so he couldn't be accused of any trickery there.
And Melody was always back within a week. Occasionally she had to wait until the conditions were right, usually rope bondage and enough time to work on it, but she always prevailed. After spending almost a week as the prisoner of a man who consistently used handcuffs tightly locked on, Melody hit upon the idea of hiding a pick in her long hair. Later she started hiding a small blade in her hair. Since she was usually delivered naked and very well secured, her new owners never thought to search her for tools. That edge, added to her natural talent for working out of bondage that was not perfect, allowed her to escape.
And there was no problem with the people who she escaped from. For the most part they were loath to admit that they had lost their slavegirl, as if it reflected poorly on their manhood.
A few seemed nervous when Tom inquired as to how things were going with their new toy, a couple even told him tales of sexual delights and trained submission he had trouble not to laugh at--considering he had the object of those tales at his house, tightly bound up and giving him much pleasure each night. Their nervousness might well have been from fear that this escaped kidnap victim might go to the police, but after a week or so without authorities knocking on their door calmed most down. None demanded their money back, and none blamed Tom. One man even asked Tom if he could supply yet another girl!
Business was going well, and Tom was making far more than he made in his legitimate business--and all tax-free, too! They soon had the house they both loved paid off, a new car in the garage, some custom made restrain devices in the basement/dungeon, and a growing bankroll that they hardly believed.
They seemed to have forgotten that the original purpose in selling Melody was to keep from losing their home. That was accomplished with the second sale, but still they continued a dangerous but exciting game. Tom worried about Melody while she was gone, but had confidence in her ability to free herself. He knew full well that there were some people who, like himself, could keep a woman prisoner no matter how good she was. They discussed that possibility. Melody viewed it with excitement--it added to the danger and made the game more intense. Tom sighed and figured that some day he would have to go in and rescue his love. They had upped the rescue period to a full week because Melody reported that most of the men were cautious during the first few days but grew lax as time passed and she proved to be the meekest and docile of slavegirl. By the end of a week all had made some mistake that allowed her to escape.
Tom didn't like that other men were sexually using Melody while they had her in their power. But he believed Melody that she had known other men before she met him. And he consoled himself all the way to the bank as each sucker put out a great deal of money for what he thought of a lifetime of pleasure but which would really be only a few days.
There were unpleasant times for Melody. The third man they sold her to was not interested in sexual satisfaction. She returned to Tom the next day with marks crisscrossing her bottom, placed there by a riding crop. But they agreed that it was really not much worse than he had given her with a belt when the mood struck him. And she admitted to a fair degree of sexual arousal from having been tied down and her ass whipped. The marks faded within a week and she was ready to be sold again.
Six times they sold her, six times she escaped and returned to her beloved Tom. They laughed and told themselves that they would just do it one more time then quit. Just one more time.
That one more time was the big mistake. Tom occasionally ran into female business executives or investors who, like the men they had targeted for their scam, had a great deal of money. And he knew from the parties they had given, and still occasionally gave, in their house that women can be just as interested in sexual domination and related games as men. So when he was having a business lunch with a Helen Powell, and she let drop a comment that indicated she liked to dominant both men and women, Tom's eyebrows went up and he began considering her as a candidate. It amused him to think of Melody being sold to a woman. What a surprise it would be for her! Yet he was also well aware that she would probably enjoy it. He had seen her engaged in lesbian acts of lovemaking at their parties and she had told him of such adventures during her teenage years. At least it would not shock her. But it would be a surprise when the closet door opened and she saw a woman looking her over!
All went smoothly. The introductory remarks about human nature tending to make some people dominant while others are submissive were properly responded to. When he suggested that it might be a fun thing to actually own a slavegirl, such as the Arabian sheiks used to, Helen's eyes lit up and he knew he had yet another client.
A little checking and he confirmed that Helen Powell was divorced, lived in a large house with only a couple servants, and was at least as wealthy as the previous male suckers. Two weeks later the trap was set.
Tom met Helen for a business lunch and seemed nervous about something. Finally he asked her, in a low voice lest those at tables around them overhear, if she were serious about that idea of owning a slavegirl. When she asked if he were serious, he only asked her to come over to his place that evening for a drink. He was getting quite skillful at setting the lure to their trap.
That evening Helen Powell was shown a naked, tightly bound, gagged and blindfolded Melody standing in the closet, her body exhausted from a full day tethered to that wall and covered with sweat from the heat of that summer afternoon in the closet. Helen stared long and hard at the captive girl, seeming to study the ample curves and especially the way the ropes cut into that smooth flesh. Finally she backed off and Tom closed the door again.
In the lounge Tom gave his story, by now well practiced, and made the offer of selling this girl to Helen. She seemed to have to think about it but he was sure she had made up her mind the minute she saw that lovely naked body. Finally she said yes and they haggled a bit about the price.
Once again Melody was detached from the wall and carried down to the garage where she was loaded into a trunk, her ankles tied up to her wrists, and she was sent upon her way as merchandise in a business transaction. Tom went back up to his bedroom, waving a check for the largest amount yet and amused at what Melody would think when she got to Helen's house only to find that a woman had bought her instead of a man. They would have a good laugh about that when she came back.
She did not come back.
CHAPTER THREE - CAPTIVE FEMALE
The car ride was long but Melody had expected that. She had been told that this new buyer lived almost a hundred miles from their house and that meant a couple hours drive at least. She tingled inside at the delicious helpless feeling. Here she was, naked, completely helpless, and being driven away to a new master who might do anything to her. It was a romantic female fantasy but one that Melody got to live out repeatedly. And she loved it. It was a great game, challenging, exciting and very sexually arousing. She could feel her pussy all warm and tingly with anticipation. She felt vividly alive such as few girls ever get to.
For a while after the car stopped and the engine went off she was left in the dark of the trunk. But finally the lid opened and she felt strong male hands lifting her body out. But instead of the rope between her wrists and ankles being removed and her being set on her feet, she was carried a long distance and finally set down on a hard floor. Then the blindfold was taken off, leaving her to blink at the bright lights.
Her first surprise was that there were two people standing over her, a man and a woman. The second surprise was that she was not in a bedroom or even a den, she was in what could only be described as a cell. There was one small window high up on the wall and that had bars across it. There was a door but it consisted of iron bars with a big hasp for a padlock. There was a small wooden bench and a drain in the middle of the floor. The only other notable feature of the bare walled cell was a metal ring bolted to the wall opposite the door about the level of a girl's neck if she were standing. The walls were a soft tan color.
The man was quite tall, well over six foot, and wore a business suit and tie. The woman was in her mid-forties and dressed in a feminine equivalent of the man's suit, dark gray with a white blouse. She motioned with her hand and the man knelt to unbuckled the strap and remove the gag from her mouth. Melody worked her jaw gratefully and tried to speak. "Please...." she began begging. "I've been kidnapped. Please call the police...." Her story was cut short with a ringing slap delivered by the female's hand. "Enough of that stupid story," she commanded in a firm, crisp voice. "I know all about the little scam you and Tom have been pulling." That statement made Melody go cold inside. This was something she had not expected and didn't like. "I've decided to make your little game backfire on you." She stepped over to the wooden bench and sat down. 'Tom has been selling you to men who are too stupid to realize they've been taken. After they get you home, you manage to escape, returning to Tom within a few days. I know of twice this has happened and suspect more. But you won't fool me."
"I... I don't know what you're talking about. Please take me to the police." Melody felt she had to say something so she kept to the story. Maybe this woman was just guessing.
Helen Powell held out her hand. The man immediately placed a riding crop in it. Melody had only enough time to widen her eyes in surprise before the crop was swung downward to impact against the flesh of her flank. The gasped loudly at the fiery pain.
"As I said," continued Helen, "I know what you are doing. Continuing to tell your false story is lying to me. Lying to me is punishable. Do you understand?"
Melody was in shock. This was not what she expected. She nodded. The fear in her eyes also told the woman who was now her owner that she understood pain would be her reward for not cooperating.
"Good. I have bought and paid for you. I own you. I suppose I could turn you over to the police for your little fraud. There is probably a dozen criminal charges that could be brought against you. I would simply tell them that I went along with Tom's suggestions to get evidence on him. And you. I could do that." She accented her words by tapping the riding crop lightly against Melody's bare ass. "But I won't." Helen rose from the wooden bench. "Roger, prepare her for the night. I'm sure that Tom will not be coming to rescue her for a few days. They want to give her time to escape herself so the whole setup doesn't look false. I'd say that he will won't come by for at least three days. Make my new possession uncomfortable for the night. I'll be back later."
When Helen left, Roger began removing the ropes that held her in a hogtie, then those around her legs. He locked a pair of what looked like oversized handcuffs upon her ankles when the last of the ropes were off her legs. Melody was then set up on her feet while he worked off the ropes around her arms.
She had a chance to look down at the metal bands securing her ankles. They were like handcuffs but with about twelve inches of slack in the connecting chain and the cuffs were larger. She decided that these were what were called leg irons. She would be able to walk, she figured, but not very fast.
When Roger peeled the last ropes from the skin above her elbows, Melody let out with a very sincere sigh of relief. Her poor arms had been bound back there all day and she was really glad to have that pressure off them. And for the ache in her shoulders and arms to begin to cease. Roger produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and locked them on her wrists behind her. The naked girl did not protest or resist. She was so used to being chained or bound that it was sort of natural, even when done by a stranger. And she was still in a state of mental shock from this ugly turn of events. Roger then locked another pair on her arms above the elbows. That pulled her elbows towards each other but compared to having had them tightly roped together all day, this was downright comfortable.
Roger then left the cell for a minute. Melody began shuffling steps towards the door but was met by the man before she was through the barred door. He easily picked her up and placed her back by the wooden bench. Then he attached a metal collar around her neck. It was two half circles with a hinge and the one end slid into the other when he closed it. She heard a click and found that it was stayed snugly in place when his hands left it. She hoped there was a keyhole or some way of taking it off. Roger than pulled a short length of chain from his pocket and a couple padlocks. One end was locked to a ring built into her collar, the other to the larger metal ring bolted to the wall. Melody found that she could sit down on the bench but that was the farthest she could move from the wall. She would not be able to lay down so long as that short chain tethered her to the ring bolt.
With her arms, ankles and neck secured, Roger stood by the door. Melody tried to read some emotion in his eyes, something to tell her what he was thinking. But she couldn't tell if he was turned on by the sight and handling of a naked girl. And she knew that her body was good enough to turn on any man. Roger could have been a robot for all Melody could tell.
Helen returned a few minutes later. She had changed to a black leather jumpsuit with high heels. Melody heard the high heels clicking on the concrete floor before her owner came into sight. Helen still held the riding crop, an omen Melody did not like. She looked over the shacked girl and nodded approval.
"Stand up," she ordered. Melody obeyed, remember the flash of pain from that riding crop. "Spread your legs as wide as you can. Wider. Good." Helen handed the riding crop to Roger and began a very detailed inspection of Melody's body. It quickly became apparent that she was looking for hidden objects, not just admiring the territory. Melody wanted to protest as fingers explored her private parts but held back.
This older woman scared her. This was not like the amateur males who had taken her before. This woman knew what she was doing. And she didn't seem to mind giving pain.
Finally the inspection was finished. Melody's heart sank as she saw the pick and tiny blade in Helen's hand.
"I thought you would have some tricks hidden," Helen said. "I will punish you tomorrow for that deception. But there is no hurry. You will be mine for a long, long time."
Melody didn't like the evil smile that accompanied those words any more than she liked the words themselves. She was frightened by this woman. Why did Tom have to get tricky and sell her to a woman? Why couldn't he have kept to the homy old men who didn't now how to tie a girl?
"You may call me, when you have permission to address me, as Mistress Helen. Or just Mistress will be fine. Nothing else. Understand?"
Their eyes met and Melody found herself forced to look down. "Yes, Mistress," she said quietly.
"Good. Tonight you will spend in this cell. Tomorrow I will begin your training. We will begin by teaching you the meaning of pain. Then you will begin to understand what it really means to be a slavegirl. It is not some little game you play with foolish men. It is a very real way of life. I own you and you will soon come to recognize that." She turned to leave the cell but paused at the door. "Eventually you will come to love me. You don't believe so but it will happen." Then she laughed. The laughter trailed off down the hall.
Roger closed the door and locked the padlock through the hasp. Then he left, after turning off the light.
In the dim light coming through the high window, Melody whined in distress. This was not what she expected. This was not what she wanted. She wanted only for Tom to come and take her away from this terrible place and people who did not play the game properly. She was not suppose to really be a slavegirl, it was only a game. Didn't this mistress Helen understand that?
She took two steps forward and was snubbed by the neck collar. With that tether she could not even touch the door of her cell. She sat down and sniffed. Maybe, she thought, if she offered to return the money this Helen had paid, she could get out of this. She would just tell Helen that it was all a joke and they didn't intend to keep the money anyway. She was sure that Tom would immediately give back the money if he know what was happening. She leaned her back against the wall and tried to get comfortable. Sure, that is the thing. In the morning she would tell Helen that it was a joke and they would give back her money. Then she couldn't continue to keep Melody. That wouldn't be fair!
Melody cried herself to sleep that night.
* * *
Morning brought Roger with food. Melody smelled the delightful odor and suddenly realize how hungry she was. She had not eaten since breakfast of the previous day. There was little chance, after all, of her getting herself a lunch or dinner while she was tightly bound and standing in that closet waiting for her new owner to come and see her. She stood up and stretched herself as best she could. It had not been a comfortable night, but she had managed to get some sleep sitting up on the bench. She turned her arms towards Roger for him to unlock them that she might eat.
Roger did not unlock the handcuffs holding her arms behind her. Instead he sat the plate on the bench. He did unlock the chain from her collar but that was all.
"How am I suppose to eat?" she asked. "My hands are behind me, you know."
"One of the rules here is that slaves do not talk back to anyone. If Mistress Helen heard that sarcasm in your voice, you would be punished. You will simply have to eat as best you can." His voice was emotionless and Melody had to wonder how many times this man had served breakfast to naked and chained girls in this cell. His statement made it sound like punishing slaves was a common occurrence. She didn't like the sound of that.
Eating was accomplished because she was starving. She had to kneel down and eat off the bench like some animal. Roger waited patiently by to remove the plate when she was finished. Melody tried to get a conversation going but Roger didn't seem to hear her most of the time. "Roger, has Helen had slavegirls before?"
"If you value your bottom, you will remember to call her 'Mistress Helen' only," he informed. A few seconds later he added, "And, yes, she has had slavegirls before. You are not the first."
Melody wasn't sure what to do or say next. Roger locked her collar to the wall again and took the plate away. He locked the cell door and Melody expected to be left alone for a while. But he returned a minute later with a hose in his hands. He turned the valve on the hose and a blast of cold water hit Melody's naked body. She cried out and turned her back to the stream of icy water. Helen's servant, as she thought of Roger, continued to play the water stream over her body, watching away the dried sweat and dirt from the previous day's confinement in that hot closet along with the smeared food from this morning's breakfast. At one point he ordered her to turn her front to him. At first she didn't want to, but he reminded her that the single crop mark on her hip was only a tiny portion of the pain that Mistress Helen was capable of inflicting upon her slavegirl. Melody believed that the treat was very real and forced herself to turn so the cold water could cleanse her body. The water wasn't hard enough to sting but it certainly took will power to allow the cold stream to play over her breasts and pubic patch without turning away.
The morning shower was suddenly over and Roger was gone, leaving a shivering, dripping nudity who was not a happy girl. Melody sat on her bench and practiced what she would say when Helen came. Perhaps she could offer even more money that Helen had paid. She was a businesswoman, she understood money. Sure, that was it, she would buy her freedom. Then she would have a word with Tom about selling her to women. Probably she wouldn't let him sell her to anyone. This was just too risky a game. Maybe it was time to stop. Happy with the thought of returning to Tom's arms, she waited whatever fate had in store for her.
* * *
"Don't bother," said Helen as soon as she was standing before the chained Melody.
"What?" ask Melody, a little confused.
"Don't bother with your attempts to escape your fate. First you'll tell me it was all a joke and you two never meant to keep my money. You'll offer to return it if I'll let you go home." She smiled wickedly at the chained nudity before her. "Then you'll offer to pay me more than I paid for you. When that fails, you'll tell me that Tom will come to rescue you without fail. And finally you'll threaten me with police action, physical harm, and anything else you can think of. Don't bother."
Melody swallowed hard. It was as if Helen were a mind- reader. That was pretty much her plan, a plan now shattered along with her hope. The woman was one step ahead of her and had been all the time.
"I figure Tom will wait at least four days before he comes looking for you. One man who bought you said that you didn't escape from him until the fifth day. So I figure Tom will give you that much time to work yourself free."
Melody gulped down her fear. Their agreement had been for Tom to give her one full week before he came to her rescue. This woman might be off a couple days but she was certainly on the right track.
"I will begin your training today," Helen continued. "But either tomorrow or the next day you will be shipped out of here. When Tom comes breaking in to rescue you, you'll be gone. Won't he be surprised?"
A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach kept Melody from replying. Mistress Helen was more than one step ahead of her. The older woman unlocked the cell door and entered.
"Please... Mistress Helen," began Melody. "I... We are sorry. We didn't mean to hurt you. It's just that we needed the money and this was one way to get money."
"There are other ways," laughed Helen. "And your Tom has his money. I have my merchandise. A simple business transaction."
Helen pushed up Melody's left breast with the end of the riding crop as if testing it's weight. "Good quality merchandise, I will admit. I'm going to enjoy training you. And owning you for the rest of your life." She saw the flash of fear in Melody's eyes and decided to play with this new slavegirl. "Of course, I hope you enjoy a life time of constant restraints, whippings, punishments, sexual use, and humiliation. You are not a free person any more, you are property. You'll never be free again." She laughed. Melody did not share in the amusement.
Roger showed up in a blue business suit to replace the gray one of yesterday. At Helen's command, he unlocked the chain from her neck collar and picked up the nude woman easily.
He followed Helen down a corridor and into a small room outfitted for the punishment of a girl. There was a ring in the ceiling, a large metal ring that looked very solid. There was a couple rings on one wall about the height of Melody's head. And there was a selection of whips arranged on hooks on the opposite wall. Melody went cold at the sight of those whips, all looking very functional and very evil. She was set on her feet in the middle of the room, under the ceiling ring.
"Roger will remove your handcuffs," began Helen. "But don't get any ideas. Escape is impossible. Roger used to play football and can easily run you down. And he's quite capable of defeating any struggles on your part. And," she smiled, "any escape attempt will be met with severe punishment. Clear?"
"Yes, Mistress Helen." Melody didn't like saying it but was too afraid to resist.
The handcuffs came off her wrists and then the leg irons off her ankles. The metal collar stayed locked around her neck but didn't get in the way of what happened next. Her wrists were placed together in front of her and rope wrapped around them. When it was cinched down there was still a considerable amount left trailing on the floor. Roger tossed the free end through the ceiling ring and took up the slack. Melody watched her hands rise before her face, then her arms straighten out above her head. Finally she felt the strain as her weight slowly left her feet to be supported solely by her wrists. The ropes dug in and were uncomfortable but she had been hung by her wrists before and knew this was bearable. It was only after a long time of hanging like this that it became painful. The rope was tied to one of the wall rings when her toes were a dozen inches above the floor.
His job done, Roger left the naked and helpless girl alone with her owner. Helen walked slowly around the suspended girl, admiring all those lovely curves. "You really are quite beautiful," she commented. "Quite beautiful. Tom was a fool to part with you." She accented her statement with an unexpected slash of the riding crop across bare bottom. Melody squealed and jerked her bottom.
"First step in training a new slavegirl, make sure she understands that you can give her more pain than she's ever known in her life. More pain than she can bear."
There followed a dozen strokes before Helen again addressed her slavegirl. The strokes were all on the soft bottom, placing vivid red marks all over that tender flesh.
Each stroke brought forth a cry or gasp from the naked woman, each was delivered by a strong arm, and each added to the fear inside Melody.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" asked Helen. Then she continued without awaiting a reply, "And it will hurt more. The riding crop is a good instrument for punishing a girl, it hurts but does no damage. I know that your bottom is burning and perhaps you think it is cut up. I can assure you, the skin is not broken.
I do have whips that can cut the flesh from your body, a tiny bit at a time. But the riding crop is hardly that severe." She delivered the thirteenth stroke. "I do so love the way your legs dance when I hit you."
"What do you want?" gasp Melody after another couple fiery slashes.
"I want only for you to hurt."
"I give up. I'm your slave. I'll do anything you want. I'll kiss your feet."
"I'm sure you would. But it would be only to stop the pain right now. No, I'm not looking for that. I intend to train you properly, to make you into a truly obedient, submissive slavegirl. You'll come to love me when I whip your bottom. You don't believe that, do you? But one day you'll thank me for each stroke across that lovely bottom. And you'll kiss the whip afterwards."
Melody wanted to scream that this woman was wrong, to deny what she was hearing. But she could not. In some strange way, in some hidden part of her mind, she was not sure Helen was wrong. Given enough pain and absolute control over a girl and she might well become the kind of slavegirl Helen was defining. And that idea frightened Melody. To her, all these games with ropes and handcuffs and even the occasional belt across her bottom were simply that: games. She and Tom played them and enjoyed them. But she was not a slavegirl to Tom, not like this Helen intended to turn her into.
The riding crop continued it's punishment of female flesh. Swish, snap! Swish, snap! And a chorus of grunts, moans and whines from the suffering nudity at the end of the rope. Melody danced on air, jerking her legs back and forth, twisting her body to avoid the wicked leather instrument that was bring her so much agony.
Eventually, when the flesh of Melody's tormented bottom was covered with red marks fading into purples and blues, Helen stopped with the riding crop. Neither had kept count, like they always do in the books to make the punished girl feel her suffering more. But both knew the count would have been nearly fifty. Melody was sobbing and felt as if her bottom were, indeed, cut to ribbons and on fire at the same time.
"You should see your little ass," Helen commented casually. "It's quite colorful." Then, after a minute of enjoying that sight, "But you know, there are other targets for a whip...." That got Melody's attention. Other targets? What did you whip a girl on except her bottom? Her back? Then Melody realized that there was the whole front of her body, those lovely breasts that she was so proud of, and even the private place hidden by her pubic patch. She moaned at the thought of that riding crop cutting into her breasts.
"I see that you are thinking along the same lines that I am," said Helen sardonically. "Which is good. Anticipation is sometimes almost as terrible as the actual event. But you won't get this riding crop across those lovely breasts."
Melody stopped her crying and sniffed. Was some mercy coming at last? "I have a different whip for a girl's breasts," continued Helen in a sweet tone. "It's small and very soft. But it stings terribly and will make your breasts feel much like your ass does right now. Stay here, I'll get it."
Helen took her time in replacing the riding crop on the wall and taking down another whip. It was small, the end being a leather thong, and it looked terribly wicked to Melody. She couldn't take her eyes from it. And she couldn't believe what was happening. This woman wasn't really going to whip her breasts. She couldn't! That kind of thing just wasn't done--it was just too terrible.
The whipping of Melody's breasts began. Each stroke was carefully placed by Helen with a precision that spoke of much prior experience. Melody cried loudly with each stroke, finally screaming when the small thong found her nipple for the first time. She kicked out with free legs, an action which had the effect of slowing down Helen's delivery of those fiery kisses.
Finally Helen put the whip down and took a length of rope off the wall. She walked around behind Melody as knelt down to grab her ankles. There was a struggle but the rope was looped around the ankles before Melody realized what was happening. The rope quickly drew the feet together and held them. Some cinching and several knots later Melody's ankles were tightly secured. But that wouldn't prevent her from kicking with both feet so Helen fetched another rope from the wall. That one was looped around the slender tummy, pulled tight, then passed down in back to go around the ropes on the ankles. Back up to the waist rope and then pulled. Melody felt her legs bending as the feet came up towards her bottom. Helen pulled with surprising strength and when she tied the final knot, Melody's legs were doubled up and the rope around her waist cutting in deeply with the weight of her legs.
"Now we can continue," observed Helen dryly as she took up the small whip and her position in front of the very frightened girl.
Without feet to kick Melody could only twist and jerk her body around, very ineffectual defenses against the punishment being inflicted. The small whip snaked out to kiss the soft flesh of her breasts again and again. Helen had been right, her breasts felt on fire and as if they were being cut to ribbons.
But when Melody looked down all she could see the top half of each globe marked with small red lines.
The worst part was when the whip found one of the rigid nipples and delivered its venom to that most sensitive place. Then Melody screamed. She ceased trying to hold it in and allowed her screamed to give vent to all the pain she felt inside.
"Please! Stop!" she began begging. "It hurt so! Please stop! Arrrggggghhh!"
The whipping of her breasts did not stop. Helen knew what she was doing. That little whip hurt terribly but did not permanent damage. She flicked her wrist this way and that, covering all sides of those perfect globes with a pattern of marks both beautiful and terrifying. Again, no count was taken, no final tally of agony kept beyond what Melody felt inside. She could only guess later that there were as many marks on her breasts as there were on her bottom--a horrible statistic.
Just as Melody was breaking down and offering money, eternal obedience and anything she could think of if only the pain would stop, there was a pause. Then a single fiery bum on her side below the breast Then another, lower still. Soon there were five evenly spaced marks heading downward from her left breast and ending just above her pubic patch. Melody whined at the implied message in that trail of pain.
For a while Helen contented herself with marking up the front of Melody's thighs, an area almost as sensitive as her bottom. Then she untied Melody's feet from the rope around her waist, allowing her legs to hung down again. Working steadily and methodically, she resumed the whipping, traversing around one side to deliver her little doses of pain on the soft back sides of the thighs. It was a long time and many, many screams later before she was satisfied with the coverage of that area and worked her way back around the other side to the front again.
By then both women were covered with sweat Helen discarded her blouse to continue her work topless. Had Melody cared to notice, she would have noted that her owner possessed a very nice set of breasts herself. Not the perfect spheres of Melody, but very nice.
The torture had been going on for hours, it only seemed like an eternity to the hanging girl. Her wrists were badly chaffed but she hardly noticed. The entire universe consisted of the pain covering her body, and nothing else.
There came a pause during which Melody hung limp, head down, eyes closed, and a mind filled with only idea, the hope that this was finally over. Her ankles being untied gave fuel to that hope. She was vaguely aware that Helen was walking around her but she did not see when the small whip was replaced on its hook and a leather belt about two inches wide taken down. Her owner took a position in front of the hanging girl to pronounce, "Now for some real pain."
Dimly the words sank into Melody's mind where it should have evoked fear but only brought forth the mild replay, "What could it be now?" as if there were no worse pain possible than what she already felt. But the next words made her open her eyes. There was now a trace of fear back in them.
"Open your legs," was all Helen had said. Melody did not move. She prayed that this woman was not serious.
"Open your legs," repeated Helen.
"No... Please, no."
"You will spread your legs as wide apart as you can," said Helen in a surprisingly gentle voice. "And you will hold them open. I could easily tie your legs spread wide. But, if I have to go to that trouble, your punishment will double."
They were simple words, the act nothing complicated. But it took all of Melody's will to actually open her legs. She did not want to but she feared this woman more than anything else in the world.
"Wider!"
The command was a little sharper this time. Melody widen the V of her legs as much as she could, then closed her eyes. She didn't want to see what was coming.
The world exploded in pain, and Melody saw flashing red in her mind. That explosion began in her pussy and quickly radiated outward to overflow her entire body. She screamed but did not hear her own sound even though it was the loudest scream of all and echoed around the hard walls of the small room. Her legs clamped together and drew up as if she were trying to curl into a ball.
Helen enjoyed the scream as it continued. It was a scream of pure agony, nothing else could sound so. Finally it trailed off into sobs. She let the injured female slowly unfold until the legs were again hanging limp. She was delighted with the way Melody was clutching her thighs together, it showed that she had created a considerable amount of pain, and she loved doing that.
Finally the body was completely limp save for the whines and moans. Helen lifted the belt again and said, "Now that I have your attention... Spread your legs wide again."
"No! You're killing me! I can't take it."
"You can and will. I know it hurts but a girl's pussy is tougher than you think. It will only hurt today and ache for a couple days after this. You will not be seriously damaged."
"You'll kill me! No, not again!"
"You will open your legs," said Helen reasonably. "I intend to give you six strokes between the legs. You've already had one. But if you make me tie your legs spread, I'll double that to twelve."
Melody was defeated. A girl can take only so much pain. Slowly her legs widened into a V, the muscles in her thighs trembling.
Helen sighed with delight and swung the belt upward. It smacked into a girl's most private and sensitive place, and again Melody screamed and doubled up.
That scene was repeated four more times. The screaming was almost constant and Melody's body trembled so badly that she could hardly spread her legs for the last stroke even through she was trying.
But all things come to an end. Helen put the belt away, her breath coming hard and her arm actually sore from all the swinging of instruments of torture. She stood before her slavegirl, panting and wet with sweat and was happy. After a while, when she thought that Melody had returned from the world of pain enough to hear her, she informed, "That's all for now. Your training has begun. But this is only the beginning. I am reminded of the story one lion tamer told a reporter when asked about how he trained the animals. He said that he trained them with love and kindness, affection training, he called it. Then he picked up a two by four, entered the cage with a new lion, and proceeded to beat the beast with the board until it was laying in the comer, cowering in fear. When the lion tamer came out of the cage, he was confronted by the reporter who ask him what happened to the affection training's love and kindness. 'First,' the lion tamer said, 'you have to get their attention.' " Helen laughed. "I've gotten your attention now." She turned to go but paused at the door. "I'll leave you hanging for a while so you can think about what has happened. And remember, I can do this to you every day of your life. If my arm grows too tired, I can have Roger come in. His arm is much stronger than mine. Goodbye."
Then Helen was gone and Melody hung alone in a small room where girls are punished.
CHAPTER FOUR - JOURNEY INTO SLAVERY
Melody had been let down an hour later and returned to her cell, a suffering and very shocked woman. Never, even when Tom once struck her with the full force of his arm behind the belt in his hand, had she ever felt such pain from a punishment. Each single blow of her ordeal was far worse than a whole whipping from her man. Those had only been play, sexual foreplay and stimulation, not real punishment. Now she know what real punishment was and had no desire to ever repeat it.
As she sat on her hard wooden bench, trying uselessly to find some comfortable way to place the contact of her skin against the wood, she wondered at the strange way one of her fantasies had come true. Ever since she had been a young girl, Melody had fantasized about being sold as a true slavegirl, kept in chains and ropes, and used as her master or mistress wished. There had been variations on that theme but always it was the idea of being a prisoner against her will as a full time slavegirl which held her fascination. That was part of why she was so eager to try that game of being sold by Tom. But she had never doubted her ability to escape, so it was only a game, not real life. And if she failed, then Tom would come and get her. She was only playing at being a slavegirl. Now it was real.
And reality was far different from fantasy. In her fantasies she was punished only if she misbehaved. And then something mild, even sexually stimulating. Mostly sexually stimulation--it was her fantasies, after all. But here she had been severely punished, tortured some might well call it. And for what reason? Nothing but to show her that her owner could do it!
As she sat there, locked in handcuffs and leg irons, naked and secured in her cell, Melody sighed and wished devoutly that she had never suggested to Tom that she be sold. This was not what she had wanted.
Tom! That was her only hope. Surely he would come for her, sooner or later. But part of their game had been for her to be given a fair chance to escape on her own. A few days of captivity would not hurt her, and she found the challenge exciting.
If she could only get her hands on a phone! A quick call to Tom would bring him running to her rescue. But no phone was in sight, only drab walls and bars. She sighed and once more stood to removed the pain of contact from her sore flesh. At least the bottoms of her feet had been spared. She shuffled forward until her neck collar snubbed her gently to remind her of the limits of her captivity.
Inside, in her heart or mind or where ever you believe the inner person resides, she was a mixture of conflicting emotions. There was fear and anger at the way she was treated and the future. But there was also some strange kind of attraction, a tingle of excitement at being so completely controlled and possessed. Melody did not understand it, could not get a real handle on it, but it was real, a confusing part of her nature. Finally she dismissed it with a mental shrug as being only a reflection of her submissive nature. The disturbing hints that Helen had been right, that she would come to love her owner and love her captivity nagged and had to be pushed down. She did not want that to happen. All she wanted was to be taken back to Tom and stay with him the rest of her life.
She was given the rest of the day to rest, but that night she was packaged for shipment.
It was confusing to Melody but one thing was clear, she was going to be taken someplace else and that was frightening. It made her rescue much more difficult for Tom.
First off her handcuffs were taken off and her arms bound behind her back with thin cord and very tightly. The cord cut into her flesh enough to make her squeal and protest. The protests were ignored and the cords pulled even tighter, crushing her elbows together. More cord was wrapped around her arms and waist, pinning her arms to her back and cutting deeply into her midsection. At first she thought that perhaps she was being tied in some extra strict bondage as another form of punishment. But the comments about a long drive and keeping her immobile and silent for hours made the truth known to her. These thin cords cutting deeply into her were there to keep her from struggling, for fighting such thin, strong cords would only hurt.
They sat her on a table and removed the leg irons before applying the same thin cord to her legs with the same vicious tightness to made her wince and moan. When the final knot was tied, her legs were welded together with cords cutting into the ankles and above and below the knees.
The gagging was a production number. First they filled her mouth with a wad of cloth rolled up. Then came a device Melody had never seen before. It was a metal band with a hasp and another piece of straight metal at right angles. That second length of metal had a leather strap attached to it and two curved pieces at the top. The band was placed around her neck and locked in place with a small lock. It fitted snugly with the metal brace going up to the back of her head, the curved arms fitting around the back of her head. The leather strap was just at the height of her mouth and they used it to secure the cloth wad in, jerking it so tight that it cut into the comers of her mouth. Wide, strong tape was placed over her mouth from below her ears to well under her chin. Two gauze pads were placed over her eyes and taped on. Then a wide, flesh colored elastic bandage was then wrapped around her head, from chin to forehead, including around the metal brace. She could no longer see or talk, and somehow not being able to see her tormentors or what they were going to do next frightened her even more. And she found that the metal brace held her head immobile, she could not turn to either side nor even nod her head. The final act was to place some kind of mask over her face. It was secured by straps behind her head, she could feel that much, and it felt as if it were made of something stiff, like thick plastic. She hadn't seen it before they blindfolded her but she could guess that there was a face on the mask, perhaps not good enough to fool a close inspection, but good enough to deceive a casual glance into the car.
After being lifted to her feet, she as left alone for a minute, trying very hard not to fall down. Tightly corded ankles and a lack of vision made the task difficult. Then she felt one breast begin taken in a hard and the nipple teased with a finger. She moaned, more out of displeasure at being played with than any kind of true sexual excitement. But the teasing had the desired effect and her nipple stood out rigid and hard, a perfect target for what Helen had in mind. It was a metal screw-down clamp, small in size but perfect to fit over a nipple and tighten around the base of it, strangling the sensitive flesh in its painful grip. Melody could only whine as the metal clamp squeezed her flesh.
"I know these hurt," said Helen, matter-of-factly as she added a second clamp to the other nipple. "If you're a good girl during the ride, these will stay at this degree of tightness. If you wiggle or try to bring attention to yourself, a hand will reach into your coat and tighten them down. Believe me, they can hurt much more than this."
The promised coat was then placed over her shoulders and buttoned up in front. She could feet the coat all the way down her legs and figured that it would cover the cords when she was sitting in the car. There was some kind of hood attached to the coat, she felt it brought up around her head and buttoned at the neck. That would cover the straps of the face mask but not the face.
It was a long walk in the strong arms of Roger before she was placed on what she assumed was a car seat. A seatbelt across the lap and chest helped to secure her in place but her captors used additional restraints to assure that she could hardly move a muscle. First there was cord tied to her ankles and to a ring in the floor of the car. That held her feet flat on the floor. Then something was tied between the brace around her neck and the back of the seat. When that was pulled, she found her head pulled back until it as held rigid upright Between the tether and that metal brace, she could not move her head at all. The ropes and seatbelt restrained her body very well, allowing her very little motion. She found that she could swing her knees a little to either side, but that was all.
And it was all rather painful. Her arms especially hurt from the tight cords and the back that her arms were caught between her body and the seat. The clamps on her nipples hurt, especially the one that was being pressed on by the strap of the seat belt. All in all, she was one uncomfortable girl.
Perhaps they had bags to pack, perhaps Helen simply wanted Melody to wait, but it was a long time before she felt the car move as others got in and then start up. During what did prove to be a long drive, Melody thought about a lot of things. First she considered trying to move in some funny way to attract attention. A policeman stopping the car would be wonderful. But there was very little motion available to her, and the threat of having those nipple clamps tightened down scared her.
It was a long trip. Although she could not see, her hearing had not been totally taken away and she could also still feel had someone sat down beside her. Since no one was next to her in the back seat, and she could hear no conversation of any kind from the front seats, she presumed that she was alone with only the driver of the car. As the long hours passed, she became certain that it was Roger or some other servant who was driving. She couldn't see anyone as rich as Helen spending that long driving through the night for hundreds of miles.
With nothing to look at and a total inability to speak or move more than a wiggle, Melody had lots of time to think.
For a while she considered how much fun this experience would be if it were only Tom who had bound her up and secured her in the car. If it had been his loving hands which had tugged those thin cords tight into her flesh, and had she known that his loving arms would hold her and make love to her at the end of the journey, she would have enjoyed this trip, painful though it might be. For a while she fantasized that it was, indeed, Tom who had bound her and who was driving her away to some unknown but romantic and exciting destination. Her loins grew warm at that thought, and her body strained gently at the bounds that held it Just imagining his hands on her body, caressing it here, teasing it there, made her breath heavier behind the gag and face mask. She found herself clenching her thighs together and thrusting her hips the tiny space allowed by her bondage. It would have been so nice to reach an orgasm while thinking of Tom, but the discomfort from the thin cords and the fear of what she was going to overrode her fantasy. All she could do was grow hot in her pussy and moan. It was a potent combination of sexual fantasy mixed with pain from thin cords, nipple clamps and still-fresh whip marks on her body, and it had its effect upon the restrained beauty. But that elusive satisfaction, that pleasure which would have helped her through a long ordeal, was always just out of reach.
Melody moaned and wiggled, and she didn't care if whoever was driving guessed at what she was trying to do.
Perhaps she drifted into sleep now and then, it was hard to tell with the constant drone of the car and the constant blackness under the blindfold. One time she felt the car stop and move a bit as if the driver were getting out. She wondered if the journey were over but could not tell. A few minutes later the car started up again and she knew that they had probably stopped only to refill the gas tank. How strange, she thought, that she had been sitting in a car at a gas station and no one around could guess that there was a naked and tightly bound woman under that coat and false face. Curse these modem gas stations where you pumped your own gas and the attendant never left the comfort and security of his indoor booth. He probably never even looked out the window at the car being refueled there, never saw the dark shape in the back seat, never suspected that it was a woman being carried away into a live of slavery in total helplessness.
Many painful hours after leaving Helen's house, Melody, the slavegirl, arrived at the Circle H Ranch in the rolling golden hills of California. She was unfastened from the car seat and carried away. Had seen been able to see at that point, she would have noted a huge ranch house and extensive stables and a bam. It was not into the huge ranch house that she was carried but into one of the stables, a stable fixed up to hold a special kind of horse, the female human kind, with stalls more like prison cells than stalls, and iron bars across their fronts. Into one such stall she was carried and placed gently upon a cushion of straw. The mask and coat were removed, then the blindfold and gag. Blinking in the relative dim sunlight the found its way into the stable, Melody saw only wooden walls, straw and iron bars. Roger cut the thin cord from her limbs, a much faster process that trying to unknot it, and she moaned as each strand was pulled from where it was embedded in her flesh. He seemed strangely gentle as he unscrewed the nipple clamps.
Melody stared in disbelief at the deep red marks on her arms, especially those above her elbows. She could not use her hands and had to let them sit limp in her lap as the nipple clamps were removed. Returning circulation and the movement of stiff muscles proved enough discomfort to make the lovely, naked woman whine loudly, but she was not allowed recovery time before new restraints were affixed to her limbs. The handcuffs Roger used to attach her wrists together behind her back were mild and welcome when compared to what she had just been through. Likewise the ones he locked on her ankles. Melody did not care. She did not comment when Roger locked one end of a length of chain to the middle link of the handcuffs on her ankles. He then withdrew, closing and locking the iron barred door to her stall.
Melody pulled herself up against the wall and sat there with her back against the wood. The straw beneath her was both comfortable and irritating against skin made tender by whip marks. The sun beams coming through the wooden roof to illuminate tiny specks of dust dancing gently in the air told her that she had been driven all through the night and most of the morning. But she didn't need a watch or a sun dial to tell her what the stiffness and deep red marks in her limbs already attested to. She had occasionally been bound by Tom for long periods, over night being fairly common but longer periods sometimes when he, or she, was in the mood. She knew what it felt like to be tightly bound for as long as twelve hours. But the ropes had been thinner and tighter than any Tom had put on her and the trip a little longer than that half day she had endured at his hands.
She sighed and the sigh turned into a yawn, demonstrating just how tired she was from the journey. She was also hungry but didn't know how to ring for room service. The sleepiness she could take care of without assistance. Falling asleep was about the only thing she could do. A quick test of the chain locked to her ankle handcuffs showed her that the other end was solidly attached to the wall far beyond her power to pull loose. The steel bracelets were snug enough around her wrists to tell her that she would not be slipping them off, even if she were willing to loose a little skin in the process. There being nothing else she could do, Melody settled down into the straw and fell asleep.
* * *
Many miles away Tom walked out of his office on the way to lunch with an important client, one he felt was on the verge of closing a big deal. That made him happy. There was also the inward happiness at the thought of his woman being held in some kind of bondage by another woman. He wondered how she was enjoying herself, the visions of what might be happening teasing him and exciting him. He was certain that, on one of the next couple days before their deadline, he would come home to find her awaiting him with very interesting tales of her adventures at the hands of this Helen. And if she failed to come home, he would simply have to rescue her. But he would let her spent a few more days. Hell, she was probably so enjoying herself that she was deliberately stretching out the captivity. He might have to think up some punishment for the crime of not escaping as soon as possible. That thought excited him. He was a contented and happy man.
CHAPTER FIVE - PONY GIRL
In mid-afternoon Melody was brought some lunch for which she was grateful. The fact that she had to eat it with hands secured behind her back by steel handcuffs really didn't matter. She was used to it. Many people seem to think it wonderful to watch a naked woman with arms secured behind her have to kneel down to eat with only her mouth like some animal. Tom had been the first to do it to her but some of her other "masters" had also enjoyed forcing her into the role of a puppy or cat.
After the surprisingly good meal--slavegirls must be treated pretty good at the Circle H--Melody was unlocked from the ring in the wall of her stall and led out into the central area of that stable. As she stood there on still shackled ankles, she counted the stalls. There were six in all, three on a side, and one of them was occupied! It was then that Melody's heart sank and the realization that this Helen was very serious about keeping slavegirls. In that occupied stall was another girl, a redhead a few years younger than Melody, about eighteen, and very pretty with intense green eyes. The girl was staring back at Melody, her very fine and naked body nearly touching the bars of her stall as she sought to see this new inhabitant of this very strange world. Melody noted that only her wrists were secured, in handcuffs behind her back, and that her stall was covered with straw as were all the others. She would have shuffled over on chained ankles to talk to her fellow prisoner but Roger returned just then.
The collar he fitted around her neck was of slender metal, rather thin and highly polished. A small hasp in the back allowed a lock to secure it on her neck, snugly enough so that she thought it must have been made with her neck size in mind. Or that they had a selection from which to chose the right size. In front hung a ring, much like a dog's collar with its metal ring for attaching a leash. And that was just what Roger did. The leash was a rope with a snap at one end but it was still a leash. Her ankles were unlocked from their shackles and, with leash firmly in hand, Roger led her from the stable and into the bright sunlight.
Helen was waiting, dressed in leather riding habit, riding crop in one hand. Roger handed over the leash and withdrew to sit on one of the wood rails of the training area. Helen smiled and pulled the rope to force Melody closer to her.
"We begin your pony training today," she smile with a smile. "It amuses me to turn some of my slavegirls into ponies. I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about, but you'll learn. You'll learn or you'll suffer. Or both!" She laughed then flicked the riding crop so it gently kissed one breast. It didn't hurt but Melody flinched and pulled back as far as the leash allowed her.
"You'll notice that this rope is about thirty feet long. It will allow you to run in circles around me. You will run when I say to, stop when I say 'Whoa'. And you will learn the proper slave pony step. Let's start with the proper demeanor. Whenever you're being a ponygirl, you'll keep your back straight, chest thrown out, so you look good. When you're standing, you'll stand at attention, legs straight, back straight, no sloughing. Your head will be bowed in a properly submissive manner. Do you understand?"
"No, I don't understand," said Melody with some heat.
surprising both of them. "First you whip me until I'm in terrible pain. And for no reason. I did nothing wrong! Now you want me to act like a pony? No, I don't understand any of this. Just let me go back to Tom and we'll give you back all the money you paid."
"Silly girl," Helen commented, perhaps more to Roger than to the naked slavegirl before her. "She'll need a lot of training. Good!"
With a sudden flick of her arm, Helen's riding crop smacked against Melody's flank. She squealed and jerked against the tether. But the message was there: pain. As much pain as Helen needed to make Melody do anything she was ordered to do. With a sucked in breath and almost ended with a sob, Melody gave in. "Whatever you say, Mistress Helen.
I'll run if you tell me to run."
"You'll do a lot more than that," purred Helen. "More than you can ever imagine."
Helen tossed out most of the rope, keeping the end firmly in one hand. Then she ordered Melody to walk out to the limit of the rope and begin a gentle trot. Five times she watched as Melody jogged around her on the bare dirt and dust of the training area, transcribing a circle around her owner. Then she was ordered into a canter, faster than a trot but slower than a gallop. Melody began to feel the awkwardness of running with hands locked behind her back but did her best to obey. The fear of another whipping was foremost in her mind and drove her into submission.
The workout lasted until Melody was covered with sweat under the hot California sun and dust covering much of her, sticking to her naked curves. She was taught how to jog with her back straight and not using swinging arms to help with the balance. Then she was taught what Helen referred to as the "slave pony step," an awkward but very impressive gait. Each step was taken with the back very straight, the leg coming up until the knee was level with the breast. Each step was thus a high step, a lot of wasted motion as far as moving across the ground was concerned, but very pretty to see as each naked leg took its turn and was bent until the knee touched the nipple.
It took Melody a while to learn that slave pony step, it was not a natural way of walking, and received several swats with the riding crop across her bare bottom. It was necessary to constantly remind herself that she had to bide her time, waiting for her chance to escape. These people would make a mistake sooner or later and she would be gone like a shot. In the meantime she learned to bring each leg up and point the toes downward.
At the end of training, her tether was handed over to Roger who led her from the corral to an area beside the stables where a couple of pipes ran up the wooden wall then bend down with a shower head at the end. Her tether was tied to the water pipe, then Roger turned on the water from a valve a dozen feet distant. It was cold water but Melody appreciated the chance to wash the grim from her body.
After that she was led back to her stall where she found fresh straw and a quiet afternoon in which she could nap and rest up. There was a lot of craziness in this place, she told herself as she lay on the straw, a lot of craziness. She rattled her ankles where the handcuffs had been replaced, including the link to the wall ring, and did a lot of thinking. If only Tom were the one exercising her and training her in that corral! She could have really enjoyed this kind of strange captivity with her lover's hand doing the holding of her tether. With thoughts of his hands on her body, Melody drifted off on that warm afternoon.
* * *
The next day they turned Melody into a pony in reality.
The cart was like one of those harness racing sulkies, two wheels, a place for a driver to sit, and two poles sticking out between which you attach a pony, nothing else. And all made out of very light metal. Only in this case the pony was a naked young girl and she was tightly secured to the poles.
Before leaving her stall, Roger had presented her with a pair of jogging shoes, then stood and watched as she put them on with freshly freed hands. The hands were then bound behind her back with the wrists crossed and bound high up on her back. Ropes over her shoulders and around her body above her breasts secured her hands in such a manner than she could never pull them down. Then the collar and tether were attached and she was led from the stall.
There were riding trails covering the extensive acreage of the Circle H ranch, and a couple special trails for Helen's special ponies. Those trails were paved and only as wide as the sulky which was waiting for Melody in the morning sun. Helen stood by, dressed in riding clothes and holding a whip that Melody didn't like the looks of. The handle was about three feet long and stiff but the end was another foot of soft leather. Melody was backed in between the poles, just like a real pony would have been, then secured to them, mainly by a wide leather strap that went around her waist. Attached to the side of that strap were two rings to which snaps at the ends of the poles attached.
Melody felt the poles move and looked around to see what was going on behind her. A sudden sharp pain on her left bottom cheek brought forth a squeal of distress.
"Slave ponies stand at attention with heads bowed," said Helen sweetly. From her seat in the sulky, Helen could easily flick the end of the whip to kiss Melody's rear end. And that whip stung considerably. Or perhaps it was made that much worse by the flesh there still being marked and sore from the whipping of two days previous. But whatever the reason, once again Melody found herself in a position to receive pain. She didn't want to play along with this game, it was degrading to be treated like an animal, and would mostly likely be exhausting and painful before it was over. But she also didn't want to be hurt again. She knew very well that Helen was one woman who enjoyed hurting girls, enjoyed it very much. With a sigh, Melody resolved to be a good slave pony. But she also promised herself that one day she would not only escape but extract a good measure of revenge upon this woman.
With arms taken away and waist harnessed to a pony cart the conversation of Melody into a pony was still not completed. The gag was a metal bar with leather reins and a couple straps. The bar was pushed into her mouth with care taken to assure that the bar was under her tongue. Then it was strapped tightly in place with straps around her head and another under her chin. The reins were handed back to Helen in the seat.
"I'm sure you understand the principle of this, my dear," Helen lectured. "I pull on the right rein and you turn to the right. I pull on the left and you go left. I pull on both of them and you slow down. If I continue to pull you come to a complete stop. Giddy up is the command to increase speed. I can also flick the reins or touch your rear with the whip to give the same command." Helen demonstrated each command with the reins as she spoke of them. "You won't have to do the slave pony step this time. Later, when you're fully trained as a pony girl, you'll be doing the slave pony step in high heels and look very smart doing it."
The bit gag was terrible. It prevented intelligent speech because it held the tongue from moving. And it was very uncomfortable. But the worst part was that it was part of Helen's domination over Melody. It reduced her from the status of merely a captive to an animal being trained. Melody hated it right from the first and grew to loath it as the day wore on.
"Giddy up!" was accompanied by a light flick of the reins. Melody pulled and was surprised to find how easily the sulky moved. She had expected to have to strain to pull both the cart and its driver but the wheels turned smoothly and, at least on level ground, she found it only a little strain. Soon she was moving right along at a good walk and Helen seemed content to allow her slave pony this easy gait. The trouble came with the first hill.
It was not a very big hill, perhaps only a two hundred foot climb, but it was huge to the newest slave pony. Immediately upon starting the incline she found the sulky behind her harder and harder to pull. Soon she was breathing hard trying to keep up her speed and pushing hard with her legs at each step. But still she managed to keep up a brisk walk. Until the gentle flick of the whip against her bottom informed her that her mistress wished her to increase that speed.
Melody, being a healthy young woman of reasonable size, was able to pick up the speed, but it cost her. By the top of the hill she was almost winded. But she was glad that she had not earned any punishment strokes with that whip. The downhill was easy and she found herself being able to rest up a bit and catch her breath. The next hill was twice the size of the first, and half way up it she slowed. She didn't want to but she just wasn't used to lugging around a full grown woman and cart.
A sudden fire in her bottom informed her that her mistress was displeased. Several more cuts with that whip were necessary before she increased the speed back to the canter Helen desired.
The morning continued in much the same vein. There were hills and there were flat places. There was also a surprising amount of trails crisscrossing the ranch property. But from none of them did she see any other buildings. The Circle H ranch was rather off by itself in the California mountains. Often her bottom was cut with the fiery kiss of that whip, usually on the upward side of hills. One time Helen urged her into a gallop on a level stretch. It would have been considered a mild jog for most runners, but then most runners weren't naked, didn't have their arms tightly bound up on their backs, and weren't hitched to a cart pulling a woman. It would be called a jog at best but it was the best Melody could do.
It was a sweaty and dusty pony that Helen brought back to the stables. Roger was there to detach the reins and sulky, then lead the slave pony away to a cold water shower. Her hands remained bound behind her during the shower, but the bit gag had been taken off. Melody relished the cold water as a welcome refreshment after her run in the hot sun. Afterwards she was taken to her stall.
"But what about my hands?" Melody asked as Roger was closing the barred door. "They're still tied. Shouldn't I be handcuffed?"
Melody thought that her inquire was very reasonable, but it evoked not a word from Roger. The door was locked and he went away, leaving a wet and naked Melody to wonder if she would spend the rest of the day with arms bound high up on her back. It was not very comfortable, yet she knew that she could take it for a long period. That opinion was based on some pretty long periods of tight bondage that Tom had put her in. Tom! She sighed at the thought of her lover. It seemed so very long ago that he had last held her in his arms. But when would she again feel those strong arms around her, again shiver with delight as his hands bound her limbs for their little games? Melody sighed again.
That night Melody, the slavegirl and slave pony, was taken to her mistress' bed chamber to be taught another facet of being a slavegirl.
The room was large, the bed an enormous four poster, and Helen waiting for her on the blood red velvet covers. Helen was nearly naked, covered only by a black see- through lingerie as she lounged upon the bed, propped up on one elbow against the pillows. Melody was ushered into the room by Roger who immediately unsnapped the tether to her collar and departed without a glance towards the bed and his boss. Melody's arms were still bound crossed and high on her back, just as they had been during her pony girl training. That position, while not extremely uncomfortable at first, had grown increasingly painful as the day wore on until, by the time she was summoned to her mistress' side, her arms and shoulders ached. But neither Roger nor Helen showed the slightest inclination to release the ropes that held her hands securely behind her.
"Come over here, slave," commanded Helen, indicating a spot on the floor by the bed with a wave of her hand.
Melody complied, a mixture of fear and excitement shivering her insides. She feared this woman like she had never feared any person, man or woman. Yet there was something exciting about being taken in a naked and helpless state to the bed of another woman, and knowing that she would soon be either force to practice the lesbian arts upon her owner, or have her owner ravishing her body in the ways that only another woman can. She felt a tingling inside and a warmth in her loins as she stood before the woman who owned her and would use her as she pleased.
"Kneel," said Helen. Melody obeyed, her head only an inch above the level of Helen's private place and her eyes staring directly at Helen's large breasts. Melody noted as she saw Helen for the first time naked, her owner was in fine physical shape, no flab, firm breasts like on a much younger woman, and a flat tummy. The idea crossed Melody's mind that this woman, although apparently married to judge by the wedding ring on her finger, had never had any children and was able to keep what must have been a very fine figure. It still wasn't bad, and Melody felt the tug of her lesbian inner self. She loved Tom with her heart but it was exciting to love other women with her body.
Helen stretched out one leg along the edge of the bed and pulled back the lingerie to uncover that leg. "Kiss my leg," she commanded. "Start with the toes and cover every inch of my flesh with kisses. And...." she hissed, "make sure I enjoy it." The last was not a suggestion, it was a harsh command.
Melody swallowed and bent to place her lips upon the toes of her mistress. A mixture of repulsion and excitement raced through her as her soft lips placed the first kiss upon the big toe. It was hard for her to make the kisses romantic and passionate, she had never been forced to this kind of degradation with a woman, or any man, for that matter. Yet there was a delicious helplessness and tingle inside as she was forced to do what she would normally have refused to do.
Carefully she covered most of the skin that was available to her, moving her lips over the surface, caressing it gently to tease the nerves. One time with Tom she had been laying there, naked and with her hands bound behind her as they recovered from a fine session of lovemaking, when she slid over and began kissing the inside of his thighs. As her lips traced a line of sweet kisses up his leg, she sensed his manhood arise. By the time she had reached that area, it was fully rampant and ready for her mouth. She had captured it suddenly and began a fast and furious pumping that ended a short time later with him climaxing in her mouth for the first time in their relationship. It had also been a new experience for her but one she found not that unpleasant. Other girls had told her that it was terrible to have a man ejaculate in their mouths, but she found it different and exciting.
But that had been a year before and this was a different place and time and person. Still she used the tricks she had learned to stimulate the nerves and tease the body of her owner. She had to shuffle forward until her breasts were pressing against the bed as her trail of kisses approached the tops of Helen's thigh. Without being told to, she shifted the kisses to the flank and then up and towards the pubic patch so large and curly. The smell was a mixture of good perfume and woman scent, exciting to Melody. She rose to her feet and climbed on the bed between the spread legs. Taking the lingerie in her teeth, she pulled it aside to reveal that pubic patch and the woman's place within. Helen said nothing as Melody bent down and began what so many men find fascinating, lesbian lovemaking. She pushed aside the curls with her nose and tongue and was soon licking at the clitoris, an act which brought froth moans of pleasure from Helen. Melody continued, sure in her technique and the knowledge that Helen would soon be reaching a climax.
But Helen's climax proved to be a harder target than Melody thought. For a long time she licked and sucked gently at those placed she knew would excite a woman, yet Helen only moaned aloud her pleasure and seemed no closer to a climax. It was awkward squatting down on bent legs to service this woman, but Melody continued with the best efforts she could make. Just when she was wondering if Helen would ever reach an orgasm, the older woman suddenly lifted her legs to clamp them around Melody's head. Her ankles crossed and locked, forcing Melody's face deep into her sex.
Melody found her mouth pressed against the opening of Helen's love tunnel and, with a perverse sense of humor, she stuck her tongue inside as deeply as she could and wiggled it. If Melody's ears hadn't been covered with leg, she would have heard an extra loud moan. As it was, she knew she had hit the right nerves from the way Helen's hips and legs trembled and shivered.
It was a long climax and Melody was wondering when she would be allowed to breath. But finally the grip of the legs weakened and Melody pulled away to gasp fresh air. On the whole she was pleased with her performance. She had certainly driven her owner into a satisfying orgasm, and she expected kind treatment as a reward.
For a while it seemed as if Helen would fall asleep and Melody prepared to cuddle along side her for warmth and go to sleep herself. She would have liked to asked for her hands to be freed but perhaps it would be better to not break the mystical pleasure spell that her mistress was lost in. It wouldn't be the first time she spent the night with bound arms.
But it was not to be. Helen, after recovering her wits from what she had to admit to herself was a pretty good orgasm, arose from the bed and strode like a naked Valkyrie to a dresser where she had a riding crop resting. Immediate upon her return to the bed she slapped the crop across Melody's unprotected rump with all the strength of her arm. Melody cried out with surprise and pain.
"You little bitch," spit Helen. "You think you're so smart. You were suppose to kiss up to my breasts and then spend at least a hour kissing and sucking them. Your little game is going to backfire on you."
Helen seemed genuinely angry as she swished the riding crop again and placed a fresh red mark on Melody's thigh. Melody rolled over and backed up into the pillows until she was with her back against the wall.
"You do things the way I want them done. You were suppose to suck my nipples for a long time. I like that!" Her voice verged on yelling, so intense were the emotions.
"You didn't tell me," muttered Melody in her defense. "Didn't tell you! You stupid slave slut! You don't do anything without being told. You've a lot to learn."
"I'll suck them now," Melody weakly offered. The crop slashed across one breast bring pain to the nipple.
"Ooooohhh! Please!" begged Melody. "I'll suck them all night. Please don't hurt me!"
The whip hand paused as if considering the idea of a slavegirl sucking on nipples all night, but then backhanded a slash across the other breast. Melody cried loudly at the pain.
Helen backed off for a minute to stand there, breathing hard and staring at her cowering naked slavegirl. Finally she gave new orders in a quite voice but nonetheless one that did not fool Melody into thinking the danger was over. "Roll over. Now get up on your knees. Leave your head in the pillow. Stick that ass up in the air."
Although trembling with fear, Melody obeyed, awkwardly without hands to help. Her bare ass was an easy target, and she could imagine what she looked like from the rear. She braced herself for the coming pain.
It came. It hurt. Melody yelled and fell to the bed as the fire exploded in her bottom. Two swift strokes across her bottom as she lay there and the command to return to the kneeling position brought her back up as rapidly as she could manage without hands. A dozen rapid strokes crisscrossed her bottom with fresh marks. She held her bottom up and endure although her bottom felt as if it were on fire and she was screaming into the pillow.
There was a pause and Melody's hopes rose a bit. Perhaps it was all over. But then another half dozen strokes impacted on her tender flesh and she screamed again.
Helen's strong hands turned her over and Melody feared that her breasts were to be the target for the riding crop. But Helen had dropped the riding crop. "When I next grant you the privilege of sleeping with me," she uttered, "what will you do?"
"Nothing," said Melody between whines of pain. "I will do what you tell me to, nothing else."
"Good. Perhaps you'll learn. But to make sure...." Melody did not like the smile on Helen's face. She liked what happened next even less. A large rubber wad was pushed into her mouth and held in place with a wide leather band. Then a padded blindfold covered her eyes and was also secured behind her head. A minute later she felt something being placed over her head, something that smelled like leather and fitted very snugly. She felt fingers at the back of her head and the covering tightened. A discipline hood, Melody realized. Tom had shown her pictures of a woman wearing one, a leather bag that covered the entire head down to the neck and was laced up the back to assure a tight fit.
Only a small hole for a nose allowed breathing. But Melody had never seen on in person nor worn one until that night.
It was completely black within the hood. Even her hearing was diminished by the leather over her ears. She quickly found that the strap and hood held that rubber wad firmly in her mouth. There was a strong smell of leather, a bad taste from the rubber, arid a very strong sense of helplessness for the girl whose head was now imprisoned in soft leather. She felt the strap around the bottom of the hood tightened and buckled.
For a while nothing happened, she simply sat on the bed, arms still high up on her back but legs free. Then she felt her legs being brought together and rope going around the ankles. The binding of her legs was carefully done and quite secure with ropes at the ankles and both above and below the knees. All the ropes were cinched down tightly and knotted firmly. Then she was lifted and carried a short distance before being set down on her feet again. It was harder to keep your balance on bound ankles when you couldn't see anything, Melody found. She wondered if that was to be her torture, having to stand in one place all night, tormented by the fear of falling down. In that case, she might as well fall down early on and get it over with. She was sure that she couldn't stand for the entire night with her legs bound that tight and no arms to help.
But her torment was not yet finished. Helen's hands grabbed a breast and flicked the nipple to assure it was rigid and standing out. Then a sharp pain shot into her breast to make Melody cry into her gag and the hood. A second pain shot into her other breast, leaving both nipples in agony. She was lifted forward a bit and felt something press against her body between her breasts. It took a few seconds to realize that it was one of the bed posts between her breasts. There was more pain as things were done to whatever was clamped on her breasts then she was left alone.
Melody could not see the clips that bit their sharp little teeth into the tender flesh of her nipples but she could certainly feel them. And she quickly realized that her nipples were connected. Somehow those two clips had been joined, making her a prison of the bedpost. She quickly found that as bad as the pain was when she stood still, it was ten times worse when she tried to pull back. She was whining and gasping short little breaths at the fiery agony in her nipples and spreading into her breasts. Never had her nipples been so pained, not even during the whipping. She tried to beg for mercy, tried to tell Helen that whatever was clamped upon her nipples was ripping the flesh and doing permanent damage. But words were impossible. Melody wanted to jerk back in frustration and anger, but dared not. A gentle pull had evoked fresh bursts of pain, and she was sure that a hard jerk would rip her nipples right off her breasts.
"Nice little clamps," came Helen's voice through the leather hood. "The teeth sink into the flesh and assure that you won't be pulling them off. Effective, don't you think? And you know the fun part?" The voice paused for only a second before uttering the words that made Melody go cold inside. "You'll stand there all night. That's right! You'll have to stand there. Your breasts and nipples will hurt, but you'll survive. They'll probably be some small holes in the flesh, but nothing that won't heal. I would suggest," she continued helpfully, "that you don't fall asleep. You might fall backwards and rip those nice little titties to shreds." Helen then laughed wickedly and swatted Melody across the bottom.
It was a long night and Melody cried until the tears dried up. The pain continued although it seemed to diminish as the hours in darkness continued. Perhaps her nipples were growing used to the pain or perhaps they were simply growing numb. She did not sleep, although she grew very tired. It was hard to stand with her body arched slightly forward. She leaned against the post as best she could but even when not pulling on the clips they still pained her flesh.
Towards morning her mind began to play tricks on her. The idea flashed into her mind that with the hood on she could not see when the dawn illuminated the room and she would never know when morning came. Helen could keep her standing there far into the next day and there was nothing she could do about it or even know that she was being cheated on. She found herself straining to hear any sounds to tell her that Helen was arising. She feared the sound of the bedroom door closing while she was still so cruelly tethered to the bedpost.
The muscles in her legs began to tremble and she found that she had to straighten up to ease the strain on the muscles. But that hurt her nipples and she went back to leaning forward as quickly as she could. Her arms and hands grew numb during the night, and muscles in her legs ached and burned with the stress of keeping herself standing in an unnatural position.
Suddenly there as a fresh burst of pain in one nipple, followed by the same thing in the other. She had missed the small sounds of Helen's arising to greet the morning sun.
With the nipple clips gone, Melody straightened up but the muscles in her legs gave way and she fell to the floor to lay in a heap of naked flesh and ropes.
When the hood was taken off, her raven hair was plastered against her head and the air felt wonderfully cold against her skin. She hadn't realized just how hot it had grown in the discipline hood. Perhaps, her fatigued mind wondered, that's whey they call them discipline hoods. Or at least one of the reasons.
With worried eyes, she looked down at her nipples, fearing the worst and expecting to find tom and bleeding flesh. She did see some blood but it was only tiny spots. For the most part the nipples looked fairly normal, although there was two lines of tiny red marks across each where the clip's sharp little teeth had bit in. Melody had feared serious damage to her precious breasts. How could there not be damage after so much pain for so long? But it was as Helen had said, they would recovered.
Roger was the one who came in to release her limbs from the ropes. She could not move her hands when they finally came down to her sides and as Roger clicked the handcuffs on them behind her back they were just beginning to pins and needles and ache with the returning circulation. She cried from that pain alone. When she was led to her stall, she gratefully sank down to the straw and was asleep before Roger finished locking the handcuffs and chain upon her ankles.
* * *
After her ordeal in the bedroom of her mistress and owner, Melody wasn't anxious to return there, as could be understood. Her nipples hurt for days afterwards and the agony of having to stand in utter darkness and endure such pain was something she had no wish to repeat. Yet the manner in wish Helen treated her slaves left little doubt that she would again have to endure such torments, and perhaps even worse. Her owner greatly loved to hurt girls.
The next day was easy for her, perhaps because of the harsh treatment of the night before. She was allowed to sleep late, nearly until noon, then she was showered and taken out for a little training. Her arms were first bound crossed and high up on her back, secured there with ropes around her shoulders and across her chest above her breasts. She was gagged with the bit gag, which she hated, and led out to the beginning of the paved bridle paths by Roger. Helen was nowhere to be seen. He carried a pair of high heel shoes and helped her put them on when they reached the path. Having worn high heels before, what girl who enjoys the kinky life hasn't? But these heels were not the tame three and a half inches Tom had brought for her. Indeed, these were a skyscraper five inches of thin stiletto heel in black patent leather with ankle straps so she couldn't kick them off. Or so that they wouldn't fall off when she was prancing, she wasn't sure which. Probably both.
Just standing took some concentration, made none the easier by the lack of arms to help with the balance. Roger, perhaps out of kindness, began with a simple walk, which sounds innocent enough but in reality was a problem for the naked slave pony. Having worn medium high heels to a occasional party or now and then to please her man was one thing, trying to walk in these very tall heels was another. Still, Melody managed to walk with only some wobbly ankles and a rare misstep. Soon enough she was congratulating herself on her ability to walk smoothly in shoes that made her seem as if she were standing on her toes. And that was what she was doing, in fact Her heels were five inches off the ground, each foot sloped downward sharply, and much of her weight taken on her toes.
Just as she was getting used to being much taller than normal, Roger threw her a curve. In a polite voice, he informed her that she was now to do the slave pony step. Melody gasped but uttered only a strange sound while she had meant to ask if he was crazy. The slave pony step would be impossible in those high heels, she wanted to point out. But her tongue was pressed down by that horrible metal bit and she could not give voice to her objections.
Obediently, and out of fear that he would produce a riding crop or some similar instrument of torture, Melody began a very slow version of the slave pony step, each leg coming up high until her knee touch her nipple. As one leg came up, she had to balance on the other leg, not easily done with those high heels. She found, with a little practice, that it was easier if she picked up the pace to a medium walk, that gave her less time she had to balance on each foot. Again and again he had her traverse the same length of pavement, requiring that she keep her back straight, that each leg come up high and the she keep her head facing straight ahead.
It was only after her first dozen steps that she fell. And that was not the only time. Before she acquired the ability to walk in a slave pony step in ridiculously high heels, she fell many times until her flanks, front and bottom were coated with dust and dirt from the ground aside the path.
It was getting late in the afternoon when Roger called a halt to the training and removed the high heels. Gratefully, Melody sank back to a flat footed stance which felt funny after several hours of walking around in those heels.
"You will get used to the heels," Roger informed casually. "I've seen Helen make girls wear them for days at a time. I believe the record is almost two weeks. Yes, it was that little blonde girl from Canada, Betty. Helen had me lock a pair of heels like these on her feet and there they remained for two weeks. Betty had to sleep in them. Can you imagine not being able to un-arch your foot for two weeks?" He continued without waiting for a reply from the girl who could only shake her head anyway. "She was begging to have them off, even screaming at times. But generally a girl will only have to wear them for a few hours at a time, perhaps a whole day. Rarely do you have to sleep in them."
Melody walked behind this strange man who held her tether and wished she could talk to him. This was the first time he had said more than a couple words to her, and she wished she could reply. The wild idea occurred to her that this man might become an ally. He worked for Helen, obviously, but he was a man. And Melody knew she possessed a face and figure any red-blooded, healthy male should be drooling over. The fact that he hadn't touched her figure in anyway beyond the placement of restrains upon her, puzzled Melody. She hoped that he wasn't gay or something like that. Maybe she could offer her body to him in exchange for helping her escape.
It was only much later that she come to understand that Roger, in his position as Major Domo of the Circle H, had Helen's permission to make any use he wished of any of the slavegirls.
But for that day Melody was glad for two things. First she had gotten through a training session with no new whip marks, and secondly Roger had spoken to her like she was a person, not an animal. Melody guessed that masters and mistresses weren't expected to treat the slavegirls with anything approaching civility. In that, she was perfectly correct.
Back in the lovely hillside home that their selling of Melody had saved for them, Tom paced the floor. It was the last day of the agreed upon period for Melody's escaping by herself. They figured if she was going to be able to make it by herself, she would do it within a week, probably less. On the evening of the last day Tom fully expected to find Melody at home upon his return from his office, probably naked and in some form of self-restraint just to tease him. But it was a cold, dark house that greeted him. With a growing sense of foreboding, he searched the whole house on the slight hope that perhaps she was hiding herself somewhere just to make him sweat.
And sweat he did. This was not the usual pattern. No one had ever been able to keep her a prisoner more than a few days. And he didn't believe that she would stay with Helen past the deadline just to tease him. Something was wrong. Faced with a prospect he had never really expected, he made a decision, then, after gathering a couple tools, hurried out of the house.
Helen's house was rather large, set amid numerous trees in a private forest, and guarded by a large fence. Tom parked the car out of sight of the front gate and approached on foot. With great care he darted from one patch of shadow to another, fearful of unseen observers. At one place he found a tree growing near the brick fence and climbed it to drop on the other side. It took almost half an hour to approach the house and find a window unlocked to sneak within. All was dark, the house gave every indication of being deserted, or at least with all inhabitants retired for the night.
Tom wasted most of the night in a fruitless search for his love. There was no one in the house. Every room searched in the light of his flashlight revealed only furniture. Even the basement room he immediately recognized as a dungeon held nothing alive. Coils of rope, stocks, whips and other materials designed to hold and hurt females were scattered around, but no female in any of them.
Tom retreated an hour before dawn, defeated and scared. Where the hell was Melody? he asked himself. For that matter, where the hell was Helen or any of the staff that one would expect to find in a house that size? Tom was worried and had a little sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He missed Melody something terrible.
CHAPTER SIX - THE DUNKING STOOL
It was two days later that Melody was harnessed up for her first outing as a full fledged pony girl. She was naked, the usual dress for pony girls or just plain slavegirls around the Circle H, but worn those ridiculously high heel shoes. Her arms had been bound very tightly with the wrists crossed and pulled high up upon her back. The bit gag was strapped in her mouth and the reins trailed back to rest on the driver's seat of the sulky. The waist band was firmly belted on and attached to the fork arms of the cart. In other words, the pony girl was ready for her mistress to take out for a trot.
Helen was dressed in a short black leather skirt and silk blouse, her shoes being high heels only a little less serve than Melody's. Taking her seat, she picked up the short whip which had been resting in a small holder designed for it, and gave a slight flick of her wrist. The pain that flashed into being on Melody's bottom was minor, but told her who was in control and promised much more that could be coming. Melody leaned forward and began a walk. The whip flicked again, harder this time. "Slave pony step," commended the woman with the whip. Melody began that torturous prancing with each leg pulled up high until the knee touched the nipple.
Progress was slow, each step took almost a full second to execute properly, and Melody dared not fail to execute a proper slave pony step.
It was a lovely day for a drive in the rolling hills of California, wild flowers blanketed the hill sides and much of the land was green. Later in the summer the hills would dry out and become an ugly brown, but this was the beautiful time, warm days edging into hot, clear skies and a bright sun. Helen seemed in on hurry to be about her drive, so she left her pony to continue the slave pony step, fully aware that it was wearing this naked girl out faster than even a trot would have. Helen smiled. This one was responding nicely. And in such a short time, too. Most slaves needed more time to become good ponies.
It was so beautiful to watch those lovely legs moving up and down, the play of muscles under that smooth skin, and the wiggle of that delightful ass. Helen sighed. This was what she lived for: total domination over other females. That, and hurting them. Those whip marks were fading nicely, thought Helen, perhaps it was nearing the time when she could place a fresh set over the old, watch that lovely young creature dance at the end of a tether and scream out her pain. Such delicious images flashed through her mind that she actually licked her lips. And she resolved to continue this drive until her pony faltered. Then she would punish that magnificent body for that failure, whatever it was. Tonight this one would be very uncomfortable, promised Helen to herself. Very uncomfortable.
The slip happened, just as Helen knew it would. A little sooner than with some of the more experienced pony girls, but still only after a fine ride. Melody was really very good at being a beast of burden. While going up a hill, one high heel came down at a bad angle and Melody wobbled down to one knee in an effort to keep from falling to the side.
"What!" exclaimed Helen with surprise in her voice as if she had not been waiting for just such an event. "That's a bad pony to break stride. Bad ponies get punished, you know."
With the metal bit between her teeth and pushing down her tongue, Melody could not answer her accuser. And she was really too tired from a lot of high stepping to put up much protest. With a growing understanding of the way such things worked at the Circle H, Melody knew that if Helen wanted to punish her, Helen would punish her. She still bore too many marks from an unearned whipping to ever doubt that fact.
Melody struggled back to both feet without having to be told to and stood there in the position she had been trained to assume when the sulky stopped, back and legs straight, eyes averted to the ground.
"All right, back to the stables," snapped Helen. "At a normal trot," she added just before a sharp burst of pain on one flank punctuated her orders. Melody obeyed and strained to work the sulky up to a trot.
It was a sweaty, well-worked pony girl that Helen turned over to Roger. "Clean her up," she said. "And...." For a few seconds Helen seemed at a loss for what kind of punishment to condemn her slavegirl to. Then a wicked smile slide over her face. "And prepare her for the dunking stool." With a laugh, Helen departed, leaving Melody to be unstrapped and taken to where she would receive a cold shower. It also left her wondering what the "dunking stool" was.
It was quite simple, really. The Circle H possessed a rather large swimming pool with sparkling clean waters and some attachments not found associated with the normal swimming pool. The one that Roger brought out while Melody stood by was a chair made of metal. She was led to it, seated in it, and the handcuffs taken off her wrists so that she could be bound with nylon ropes. It was really a rather normal chair, with a back, legs and rungs. Her hands were pulled behind that back and bound with the wrists turned palm to palm. Then came her elbows, tightly together as she was used to. Rope from her wrists pulled her arms down towards the rungs at the bottom. More rope around her waist held her welded to the chair. Roger carefully bound her legs together at the ankles and above the knees before tying her ankles back to the same rung that tethered her wrists. The effect was to pull her legs back and under the chair so that only her toes touched the pool decking. She noted how pulling the legs back that way tightened up those ropes around her knees, but it was far from painful, only rather a discomfort. Finally a ball gag was added, filling her mouth and making speech impossible.
While the ropes that locked her to that chair were going on, Melody wondered about what was going to happen to her. It bothered her that this was being done besides the pool. "Dunking stool" didn't sound very pleasant and she feared that perhaps it was simply that she would be pushed into the pool in this completely helpless state. That would be terrible and very frightening, but also fatal. How would they get her out before she drowned? Or would Helen simply allow her to drown while she watched the frantic underwater struggles of a slavegirl who must have displeased her mistress somehow? It was a scary thought and Melody was growing more and more apprehensive as her body was bound in place. She almost asked Roger what was going to happen but the words stuck in a throat frozen by fear.
Roger finished the final knots securing Melody to the metal chair. If he noticed the look of fear in her eyes, he did not react to it For a long minute he was busy behind Melody, a minute during which she nervously tugged and pulled at the ropes. It was not an organized attempt at escape, she was far too experienced to think she could easily defeat ropes placed on with such tightness and skill, but more of an unconscious resistance to a frightening situation.
There was a clanking sound and something moved into place over her head. Melody turned and found that a long metal arm had been swung out from a hiding place in some bushes until the end was directly over her. The end of the arm held a wheel over which a chain passed and descended towards her head. Roger came into view with a large handful of chains. With a dread fascination, Melody watched as each of the four lengths of chain was attached to the chair then up to the single chain. Two went to the top corners of the back where they snap into rings she had not noticed. The other two went to the front comers of the seat and were attached somewhere under the seat. Carefully he adjusted the chains until each was taunt. Then he pulled a remote control from his pocket and pressed a button.
Melody gasped as she felt the chair being picked up. Roger stopped it only a few inches off the decking but Melody could feel her heart beating fast within her chest. The entire chair was tilted forward. Roger lowered her to the decking and made some adjustments to the two front chains. When he lifted her again into the air, the chair was level, or very close to level. He then made a final check of all the ropes, tugging at the knots, assuring himself that the rope were all tight and this naked girl truly helpless. Then he pressed a second button and the entire arm swung slowly out over the pool.
Melody sucked in air in real fear. She knew now what a Dunking Stool as and didn't like it. Part of her was almost shaking with fear even as another part was thankful that the method of her torture was now revealed and it didn't look like sure death. Had the intent been to allow her to drown, these sadists could have simply kicked her chair into the pool and watched with evil glee as she fought a losing battle. But the hoist and arm told her she was to be dunked but could easily be pulled back up by whoever held that remote. Still a very scary ordeal but, unless someone made a serious mistake, not a deadly one.
Melody had to turn her head to see down into the pool and one such look was all she allowed herself. She was positioned directly over the deep end with a great deal of crystal clear water below her. From the size of the pool and the diving board nearby, she would not have been surprised to find these deep part at least ten feet deep, perhaps more. It certainly looked a long way down to the bottom. And with all that chain and heavy metal chair, she knew she would sink all the way to the bottom with no hope of floating.
Looking around, she found that Roger had departed, leaving her alone suspended over a watery grave should something go wrong with the hoist holding her up. Feverish thoughts raced through her mind, all very negative. What if someone in the house were to use a remote control to turn on a TV? That might signal this hoist to lower her and no one would every know. What it failed somehow? She could easily imagine herself suddenly dropping into that water, feeling it closing in over her head, and knowing that no one would find her until it was too late.
She struggled. She fought the ropes in a nervous reaction somewhere short of blind panic but more than just fear. The ropes held. Visions of herself working the ropes off and getting away to flee to the hills where she could hide flashed through her mind but not through reality. She remained tightly bound and helpless. And scared.
"I see you understand the danger," said a voice behind her.
She turned to see Helen, dressed now in a glittering blue evening dress and holding the remote control in her hand. "With the touch of a button I can lower you into the water," Helen explained and she walked around in front of the suspended slavegirl. "See?"
The chain played out smoothly and Melody descended. She wanted very badly to protest but non-verbal noises and shaking of her head were all she had to work with. Helen's eyes glowed with delight as they took in the trembling and very helpless body of her slavegirl. When the water first touched her toes, Melody was straining to arch her body away from the chair. The ropes cut into her middle and held her, but it was a fascinating display to the watcher. Very slowly the water climbed up her legs. Helen licked her lips and one hand went down to press against her pubic region through the dress. The water crept to the seat and wet Melody's bottom. As her hips submerged, Melody was shaking her head violently from side to side and making the most delightful noises behind that gag. Both girls watched as the water climbed up to and then over her breasts, Melody in fear, Helen in stimulation.
This cruel mistress stopped the hoist just as the water level touched Melody's chin. Her free hand lowered to lift the dress up, exposing a pubic patch unencumbered by panties. She braced her legs wide and openly toyed with her own sex. Melody whined.
"You should see the fear in your eyes," purred Helen. "It's wonderful! You really are scared to death." She sucked in some air and continued to play with herself. "And you're quite right. Just a tiny bit of pressure on this key and you'll sink right down to the bottom." She smiled then added, "Like this!"
Melody sucked in air as best she could as felt the water rise to cover her mouth, then her nose. She closed her eyes and tried to fight down the whine of fear her body wanted to make. After a long time she felt the chair jerk and knew she was sitting on the bottom. She fought the ropes then remembered that movement used up more oxygen and forced herself to sit still. It was not easy when her mind screamed out to fight for the surface and life-giving air.
It seemed like eons before the chair gave a tiny jerk and slowly, every so slowly, she rose through the water. When it finally cleared her nose, she sucked in air gratefully.
"As I thought. One minute is fine." Helen disappeared behind the hoist while Melody sat there with head hanging and water dripping from her body. When Helen returned, she watched the drops form and fall from those lovely nipples for a minute before continuing with the torment.
"The controls have been set so that it will take you one minute from the time your head goes under to the time it returns to the surface." She waved the remote casually. "It will start when I press this key. And it will continue. You will go down and then up, down and then up, down and... Well, you get the idea. Each time down should be only about a minute, surely you can hold your breath that long. But be sure to get a good lungful just before the water covers your face or you might run short." Helen laughed. It was great fun to see the fear in Melody's eyes. "I won't tell you how long you'll be dunking," she continued. "Because I haven't decided yet. Maybe all night...." Melody whined aloud. "Or maybe just an hour. Or two. Or three. Actually, I'm going to a nice dinner as Norman's guest and won't be home until late. And I might totally forget you out here." She smiled sweetly. "It's happened before. I just get carried away with what I'm doing and forget all about a simple slavegirl. Lost a few that way. But who cares? It's easy to get more. Actually, you're the most expensive one I've ever paid for. Usually I only have to pay a fraction of your price to have a teenager kidnapped for me. But I was curious to see what kind of game Tom was playing. Sort of backfired on you two, didn't it?"
Helen looked towards the house. "I think that's Norman's car now. Got to run. Have a nice evening." She departed, her high heels clicking on the pool decking. Casually she pointed the control unit back over her shoulder and pressed the button without never looking back to see if all had been set into motion the way she had planned.
Melody tried to call out but the gag defeated her. Besides, Helen would never have paid the slightest attention to a mere slavegirl's wishes. The water climbed back up her body and Melody wanted to cry. Just before the liquid closed over the gag, she sucked in as much air as she could hold.
The evening became a long series of repetitions. The water closed over her head. The chair bumped against the bottom and came to a halt. Melody had to sit here, completely helpless, for a very long time. Then the chair would jerk and she would rise at a torturously slow pace. The water would crawl back down her body until she was swinging gently at least five feet over the pool. Then the hoist would change the pitch of its hum and she would start back down to repeat the ordeal all over.
The worse parts were sitting on the bottom. She worried about something going wrong. A gear could break. An electrical wire could be worn and short out the motor. The controller might fail. There could be a power failure. A thousand tiny things could go wrong and she would die there on the bottom of Helen's pool, gasping frantically for air.
Each time she paused at the top of a lift, she looked around. But each time there was no one in sight. She as alone, being hoisted up and down by a machine with no mind, a heartless machine that didn't care if she lived or died.
The cycle took two minutes, half above the water and half below. Thirty times an hour Melody was lowered into the water. Thirty times an hour she risked death. Thirty times an hour a tiny mechanical failure could kill her. Thirty times an hour she had the opportunity to miscalculate and not get in enough air to last her the minute. And it's so hard to be calm and conserve your oxygen when you're completely helpless and on the verge of panic every second.
After an hour and a half, forty-five dunkings, she got the idea that perhaps Roger had been told to watch her. Perhaps Helen wasn't really so casual with the lives of her slavegirls and would have Roger provide the safety factor. To test that, Melody tried slumping her head down and not showing any signs of life as she was lifted out of the water, while still sucking in that wonderful fresh air. A dozen times of playing dead convinced her that no one was watching.
Sometimes she opened her eyes when she was on the bottom. Her long black hair floated gently by her face like sea weed. After a while she began looking to the surface so she could see when the air was near. There were times when she didn't think she would make it There were times when she sucked air in through her nose too soon and choked on the pool water. But she had to clean it out and be ready to grab as much air as she could before the next plunge.
As the night wore on, the air became cool, and her dunking became a cycle both of air and water and of warmth and cold. The pool was heated and quite pleasant. The night air made a wet naked body cold very fast It was a long, long night, and began to look like it might well stretch all the way to the next dawn as Helen has hinted at. But somewhere after midnight, Melody came up from the depths to see Roger standing there between the wet strands of her hair. She shook her head as she slowly swayed above the water and found that it really was him. But he did nothing as the heartless motor again lowered her. She tried to cry out, make some kind of communication before the water closed over her again but he gave no recognition of her attempt.
For several more dunkings he merely stood there, his face expressionless as he watched her.
He was not there to rescue her, Melody told herself. She closed her eyes and wanted to cry. But then, instead of going down, she felt the chair swing to the side. Quickly opening her eyes, she found Roger with the remote control pointed at the arm as it placed her over very welcome wooden decking. He lowered her until the chair rested firmly on its legs then began detaching the chains. After that he removed the gag and Melody did cry. It was tears of relief shed because a frightening ordeal was over. And tears of pain because the muscles ached from the rather large ball gag having forced her jaw very open.
When she could move her jaw enough to speak, her first words were, "How long?"
"Just over four hours," he told her emotionlessly. "That's about one hundred and twenty dunkings, in case you didn't count."
Melody looked up to see if he meant that as a joke. She had not counted. The little she saw of his face as he went round behind her to work at the knots holding her arms behind the chair did not look like he was smiling. She found herself wishing he had meant it as a joke. It would be the first kind act towards her since she was sold to Helen.
"Roger...." she began. "Should I call you Roger or Sir or Master or something like that?"
"Mistress Helen used to make her slaves call all men Master, but she stopped that a couple years ago. About the time she decided that men were or should be little more than slaves themselves. You may call me Roger."
"Roger, thank you for taking me out of that pool," she offered meekly. He said nothing. "I mean, I guess you had your orders to take me out at a certain time. Helen probably told you to."
"Mistress Helen told me to leave you in for the entire night if she didn't come out to release you herself," he informed. "But the Mistress called to say that she was staying at Mr. Butler's for the night. It was my decision to remove you now."
"Well, thank you. I don't think I would have survived the whole night."
"I think you would have," Roger said as he guided her legs out from under the chair then began working on the rope binding her ankles. "You are physically fit and healthy. And you are stronger than perhaps you think."
"Thank you. But I'm not sure I would have lasted. It was getting harder and harder to hold my breath." He did not reply to that and Melody kept quiet for a minute while the wet rope was peeled from her legs. She felt, now that the fear of drowning was fading, that this conversation with Roger was helping to establish some kind of relationship between them, something that perhaps she could work on for the future. "Well, thank you."
"I didn't do it out of the kindness of my heart, Miss," he informed evenly.
"What? What do you mean?"
"I felt like using you, and it's hard to use a girl when she tied to a chair sitting at the bottom of a pool."
"Use me? Does that mean what I think it mean?"
"Indeed it does, Miss," was all he said. Melody shut up, unsure what to say. She noted that he had locked her hands behind her back with handcuffs before untying her legs, so fighting a rape would be difficult, more likely impossible.
And she was a little unsure how she felt about this turn of events. She was used to a strange man using her body for his sexual gratification. One does not get sold half a dozen times as a slavegirl without that basic act happening. But would it help her with her vague plans to enlist his aid?
Finally she told herself that it didn't matter, he was going to do it and she would probably be well tied down at the time so she had no say in the matter. Still, so long as he wasn't too brutal, having sex with a man could well be an enjoyable break on this ranch of pain.
He was both brutal and kind. But first he prepared the slavegirl by drying her off with a towel, then blow drying her hair until it was fluffy and looking better than it had for too many days. With her body dry from the pool water and her hair looking less like a drowned rat, Melody as taken to a bedroom of the house. Perhaps it was his bedroom, perhaps merely a bedroom used for the raping of slavegirls, either way it held very little in the way of furniture. A queen sized bed, a couple dressers and one picture on the wall, a picture of a sunset over crashing ocean waves.
He unlocked her wrists and brought out a couple short lengths of rope. Obediently Melody put her arms behind her and felt the ropes bit into the flesh of her wrists over rope marks not yet faded. He bound her wrists together very tightly, then looped rope around her elbows and pulled them together. It felt as if he were tugging the ropes with all his strength, so tightly did the binding of her elbows proceed. With the final knot she knew she would not be using her arms for anything for a while.
The naked slavegirl was left to stand beside the bed while this employee of Helen's removed his closes without haste.
An old familiar tingle awoke inside Melody's loins. It was the expectation and excitement at the thought of being helpless and used by a man. It was the same kind of tingle that made being sold so exciting to her, an enjoyable kind of tingle.
Sure, her arms hurt, he had really bound them far tighter than necessary. But it could be worse. And he was not a bad looking man. The body that was revealed was as Melody had expected from those times when her body was pressed against his when he carried her, muscular and in very good shape. She felt the heat grow between her legs. Looking down she could see her nipples already rigid with excitement.
"I'm every so grateful that you took me out of that pool," she cooed. Then she sank to her knees and shuffled forward until she was kneeling with face very close to his rigid rod. Without any kind of instructions to, she took it in her mouth and began some serious lip service. Melody was not a prude when it came to sex acts, and had long before discovered the best stimulus to make a man ready for sex was good oral sex. She teased his tool, licked it, sucked gently on it, and ran her tongue around the smooth head. And while this oral service was going on, the inner part of her that made her such a good slavegirl, that submissive nature she could not deny, was heating up her loins and making her juices flow. By the time he pulled her head away from his rod and lifted her to the bed, she was moaning and more than ready to receive his manhood.
The ride was worth the admission price. It was long and hard with both parties giving their best. Her hungry hips matched his thrust for thrust. She moaned as his hands cupped her breasts and squeezed hard. When he rolled her on her back and began pumping away, both her and his weight pressing her tightly bound arms into the bed, she gasp loudly and thrust her hips upwards to meet his. When the first climax hit her like a ton of bricks, she cried out then bit his shoulder until she tasted blood.
He kept pumping hard, driving that wonderful tool deep into her as she shivered with delight. When his climax came, he rolled her over on top of him, clamped her legs together with his and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her chest hard against his. For a long time they lay like that, her body imprisoned against his, held there by strong arms and legs as well as rope, this naked and helpless slavegirl trembling with intense sensations.
As Melody lay upon this man, her heart still beating strongly and her loins still glowing with warmth and pleasure, she felt contentment, which she attributed to sexual satisfaction, nothing more. She still loved Tom, that had not changed. But she had really needed a good screwing and that was just what Roger had provided. Melody was grateful and, for the first time since being sold to Helen, somewhat content.
The ride was not over. Roger had not withdrawn from her pussy as so many men did. True, his weapon diminished after his climax, but it did not become limp as many do. It stayed in a state of mild erection and within the hot love tunnel of this slavegirl. After a while one hand slid down to her ass and clamped onto it that fleshy mound. Strong fingers began kneading the flesh. One arm was still over her back and bound arms, holding her against him, and his legs still held her imprisoned and together, so she could not avoid his playing with her body even if she had wanted to. The fire was lit again and both felt it. Her loins grew hot again and she felt his manhood stiffen and expand within her.
This ride was perhaps a little slower and less urgent but nevertheless as satisfying. Releasing her legs, Roger easily lifted her and rotated her until she was straddling his hips, his rod still within her. Then he grasp a big breast in each hand and kneaded the flesh. Melody began pumping her hips up and down, sliding her pussy along his shaft. The passion built up until she was thrusting quite hard and fast on the rod of flesh that impaled her. The timing was perfect, both crashed into orgasm within a second of each other. Melody arched her back until her hands reached the bed and she was partly supported by her bound arms, then she shuddered all over with ecstasy.
Dawn was coming up when Roger carried a naked slavegirl back to her stall and left her there, wrists again handcuffed behind her back, ankles chained to each other and the wall.
The next day slave Melody was given to Mr. Norman Butler by Helen who thought it amusing to do so.
CHAPTER SEVEN - A SHOCKING WAY TO TREAT A SLAVEGIRL
"Listen, Helen, about that girl I sold you...."
"Tom, dear, I don't think that it's wise to talk about that in a public place like this." Helen was sweet reason. "After all...."
"I... I think that I've changed my mind. I would... ah, like to go back on our business deal."
Tom glanced around them in the fashionable restaurant. It was early yet for lunch and the place was only half filled. No one seemed to be paying the slightest attention to the two sitting in a comer booth.
"Why, Tom, you said she didn't mean a thing to you. Just some tramp you picked up hitch hiking, I believe it was. I think you said that after taking her back to your place, tying her up and raping her, you decided you couldn't possibly set her free without her running to the police. That's when you asked if I would like to buy her. Why on earth should you want her back?" Helen was toying with him but very subtly.
"I... Well, I simply changed my mind. She was a fine piece of ass and I would like her back. I'll return your money, of course."
Helen chuckled. "I won't disagree with you about her being fine in bed, I've had that pleasure. Didn't take long to train her, either. I suspect she was very used to lesbian practices to begin with." She was enjoying the pained look in Tom's eyes.
He leaned forward. "I'll even make you a profit on the deal. A nice profit."
'Tom, Tom you silly fool. So that girl's gotten under your skin? It would be foolish of you to think you could get anywhere with her. For one thing, she's really more of a woman's slavegirl. Believe me, I can tell. She takes to other girls much faster than she does to men. You were lucky that you had her tied down when you screwed her, or she would never have let you do it." Helen's eyes were twinkling. Teasing this young man was almost more fun than whipping his girl.
"I... Well, that's for me to work out. I would just like to get her back. Will you sell her back?"
Helen paused to stir her coffee. "I'd be happy to sell her back," she said casually. Then, after a pause during which Tom's face revealed relief, "But I no longer have her."
Tom felt his already nervous stomach tighten into a knot. "Don't have her?" he asked foolishly.
"Sold her actually," said Helen over a sip of coffee. "But don't worry, she won't be coming back to haunt either of us. The man I sold her to has already gotten her out of the country. She won't be coming back." Helen was enjoying the look of horror on Tom's face so she piled it on. "By now he will have decided which of his brothels he wants her in. She's probably already settled down in her new job."
Tom glupped. Helen, trying hard to keep a smile off her face, added, "Of course, he did say something about keeping her for his personal use. Those Arab guys often have harems, you know. At least the rich ones."
Helen sipped the coffee again, enjoying this game immensely. "Don't look so stricken, Tom, dear. Pretty young girls are a dime a dozen. You'll find another very soon. Or I could arrange to get you one... If, that is, you wish to keep a slavegirl. You'd have to make some arrangements for a cell in the basement, and other things. It's an expensive and time- consuming hobby, but a fun one. Well, thank you for lunch, but I've got to be going."
"The Arab... What was his name," Tom asked weakly.
"Ben Saddi, I believe. Although that may not be his real name. Well, so long."
Helen rose and left the booth, a wicked smile springing to her face as soon as she had turned away from Tom. This was the most fun she'd had in ages. That poor fool thought that his girl friend was in some Arabian country as a harem girl!
Great! And he'd be off on a wild goose chase now after some fictional Arab named Ben Saddi! Stupid fool!
As Helen slide into the back of her limo, she again smiled at the additional trick she had played on both Tom and Melody. The poor girl had been a tightly bound captive on a car trip that took her on a great circle through Southern California. But the Circle H ranch was actually only one hundred miles from Tom's house! Melody thought she was hundreds of miles away, and Tom thought she was half way around the world. What a joke on them both!
* * *
Melody awoke to the morning sun coming through thin cracks in the wood of the stable. She stretched her chained body like a cat, lovely skin and curves arching sensuously on the straw. The lovemaking with Roger had been very intense and satisfying, and she was still contented in its aftermath.
But slavegirls are seldom content on the Circle H. Roger showed up with breakfast and Melody tried to engage him in casual conversation. "I want to thank you for last night," she ventured. "I mean for taking me off that dunking chair. That was most unpleasant." Roger showed no reaction. "And for the other...." She smiled at him but it was not returned. He left her alone to eat her food with hands still handcuffed behind her back.
In the afternoon he returned and led the naked girl into the big white Spanish style house. Helen was waiting for her in a lounge. So was a strange man whose gaze made Melody feel uneasy. He was middle aged, slender, dressed in tweeds, with a small mustache. But it was his eyes that she disliked instantly. They were dark and reptilian as they took in her nudity from face to toes. His lecherous smile told her he liked what he saw and would like to get his hands on her.
"Slave Melody, this is Norman Butler. He has a little ranch down the road and sometimes drops by. Usually when I have a new slavegirl. I've never figured out how he knows but he always manages."
Norman Butler stepped closer to Helen's new slavegirl and ravished her lovely body with his eyes. "Very nice," he commented. "Very nice piece, indeed."
"Stop drooling, Norm," Helen said but with no venom. "She's my property, remember that. I might loan her to you but you'll return her in good condition, understand?"
"Of course, my darling Helen."
"Remember that little Mexican girl? You messed her up so badly that I had to dump her."
"Helen, dear, that was simply a misunderstanding. She simply wasn't... as durable as I expected." He smiled and Melody felt sick to her stomach. This was a man she didn't want to be "loaned" to.
"Well, Norm, that had better not happen to this one. She is, as you pointed out, fine material. I'm training her to be a slave pony. I don't want her ruined."
"Of course," he muttered, staring at the lovely curves of her breasts. Melody wanted to turn away but dared not. "Of course."
Helen sighed and picked up a drink. She sat back on the sofa and crossed her long legs with a swish of nylon against nylon. "What will you do with her, Norm? You know how I like it. Simply taking her to bed isn't very imaginative. You'll have to promise something that excites my imagination, or I won't give her to you."
Norman Butler frowned. One hand came up to his chin as he pondered the problem. Slowly he walked around the naked girl standing there with wrists handcuffed behind her. The smile that finally came to his face made Melody feel even worse. Something terrible was being planned for her, she was sure.
Crossing back to his hostess, Norman smiled sweetly to her, then leaned over to whisper in her ear. The description must have been lengthy, and a smile slowly crept onto Helen's face as it was played out in her ear. "Norm, you old bastard, what a positively wicked idea! Wish I'd thought of it."
Helen got up and walked to Melody. She cupped one breast in a hand as if weighing it. Her thumb toyed with the nipple. "Okay," she said to Norm behind her. 'Twenty- four hours. And you take video of it for me to see."
Two sadists smiled understanding at each other. Then it was back to business. Roger was called in and told to prepare Melody for a trip to Norman's ranch, called, for some strange reason, "Fool's Paradise." He led her from the room with a firm hand on one bare arm.
Preparation for transport was not as elaborate as it had been when she was driven to the Circle H. Norman Butler had a pickup truck which Melody was placed in the back of. She was made to sit on the floor as her ankles were tied to two ring set into the bed of the truck. The handcuffs were taken off her wrists but they were quickly crossed and corded tightly together. The truck had a bar curving up and across the top of the cab with some extra lights on it. A rope was run from her wrists to that bar and pulled until she had to lean forward and her wrists were considerably higher than her head.
The metal of the truck bed was both hard and cold. The position she was tied into was awkward and uncomfortable. A strange mixture of hope and dread raced through the naked girl when she realized that she was going to be driven down a public road in this condition. Perhaps she would be seen by someone who could help her. A policeman? Someone. It had to catch a person's attention to see a naked and bound girl totally in plain sight in the back of a pickup.
Then she noticed that she was not even gagged, which made her realize that they would not be driven down any really public roads. Probably there was some private road between the Circle H and Fool's Paradise. This means of transportation as just to make her feel like cargo, not a human. She could have ridden in the cab, tightly bound but at least seated like a person. Instead she was awkwardly spread open and secured like merchandise.
Normal Butler drove fast and cared not for the comfort of his cargo. The dirt road between the two ranches was filled with pot holes, dips, and dust. The naked girl in the back was bounced around, jerked this way and that, and choked by dust as the truck raced along.
Fortunately it was not a long trip. Fool's Paradise was a smaller ranch than the Circle K, as Helen had said. There was stables and a workout area, along with a large house. But Melody was driven up to a barn-like structure and inside, still in the truck. The inside was not rough wood as the outside, but quite modem and clean. A ranch hand, complete with red flannel shirt, jeans and boots, came up as Norman got out of the cab.
"New toy, Karl. Got twenty-four hours to play with her," said Norman.
Karl, a man in his fifties with a dark face weathered by many days out in the sun, looked into the back of the truck at the naked girl. He nodded then unhitched the rear panel and began untying her ankles.
"Clean her up and then bring her into the Blue Room," said the owner of Fool's Paradise. "I've a few things to prepare."
"Sure, boss."
Karl's hands upon her skin were rough but not as repulsive as Norman's would have been. He removed the ropes upon her ankles but left her wrists bound together. A cold water shower washed the dust off the slavegirl, and then she was led to a room where Norman was waiting.
It was painted blue, had no windows but did have a small square frame on one wall with a mirror in it. That mirror and the door were the only features in the room. Norman was standing by a cart with wheels, going through some ropes and funny looking things. "Untie her wrists and redo them up on her back," he told Karl as soon as the girl was inside the door. Karl obeyed and Melody quickly found her wrists crossed between her shoulder blades and being tightly bound there. It was the same binding that Roger used when she was to be a pony girl and she wondered if that was what Norman was planning. But the items on the cart weren't bit gags or any kind of harness that would fit to a sulky.
With the final knots tugged tightly and Melody's hands positioned high up on her back and unable to help her in any way, Normal Butler advanced upon the naked and helpless girl with a strange harness of two thick leather straps with two metal cylinders attached to one of them. While Karl held her by the arms, Norman pushed her legs apart until her sex was wide open. Melody then recognized the two metal cylinders for what they were: dildos. They were both smaller than any that had been used in her before, but still frightening. Each had a rounded, bullet shaped head and glistened from some kind of lubricant Norman had smeared upon then. Without a word, and with rough hands, he knelt and pushed the larger of the two against the lips of her vagina. They parted, somewhat painfully from the rough shove, and the metal cylinder invaded her love tunnel. She was silently glad that probe had been lubricated, his shove would have hurt terribly in a vagina not lubricated somehow.
Melody was glad that the second cylinder was much smaller because it was placed against her rectum and shoved in. She squealed and jerked backwards at the sudden and unexpected invasion of that part of her body. Again she was glad for the lubrication for she knew that it would have hurt much more had it been dry.
The two pieces of metal were held in place by a wide leather strap that passed between her legs and was secured by another one around her waist. Norman seemed to take a delight in jerking the straps as tightly as he could. With her hands secured high on her back, Melody knew that there was no way she could get this harness off. She would have to endure those metal dildos until someone else freed her of them.
But something puzzled her. Their insertion was uncomfortable but once in place they were not painfully large, nor was their smooth metal surface uncomfortable in any way. What then was their purpose?
Normal returned from his cart with a rectangular flat box in his hands. It was not too large, maybe six inches wide, nine inches tall and only a couple inches thick. There was a snap on the bottom and a couple of rings on the top. Karl moved from behind her to hold her from the front while Norman went behind her. She could not see but felt him snapping the bottom of that box to the strap around her waist. Then he tied rope to one ring on top of it and passed that rope up between her elbows and back down to the other ring where he tied it very tightly.
Melody was still puzzled and more than a little frightened. So far all seemed innocent but she didn't trust this man at all. He frightened her, and she knew he planned to do her harm. Maybe nothing serious, Helen had made that clear, but something terrible nevertheless.
Normal returned again to his cart and returned with some small wires. Melody got a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. That black box could be a battery pack, her mind told her. And those metal cylinders inside her private parts... She had a terrible feeling about this.
But the hands that held her were strong and she could do nothing as the wires were attached to the box and a place in the waist strap. Each wire snapped into it's plug with a metallic click and Melody felt sure that it would not be easy to pull those wires out. Not that she could possibly reach them with her hands bound so high on her back.
The wiring of-slavegirl Melody as not yet finished. Karl switched back to holding her from behind as Norman brought forth two metal clips with wires attached. Roughly he grabbed one breast and attached the clip to the nipple. Melody cried out at the sudden pain from the tiny metal teeth attacking her flesh. Immediately he attached the other clip to her other nipple, then plugged the wires into small holes in the front of her waist strap. Melody wanted to tell them how much those clips hurt and beg to have them removed but bit back the words. She was certain that at best she would be ignored and possibly punished for speaking back. The pain from tiny teeth driven into her flesh by strong springs was bad enough but those wires attached to them scared her very badly. Norman then placed a wide strip of gray duct tape over each nipple, covering the clip completely and overlapping enough to assure she couldn't rub the clips off.
Karl released her and she took several steps back until she came to the wall. Norman smiled as Karl was pushing the cart out of the room. He seemed to be enjoying her emotional discomfort. "I've already activated the battery pack," he informed, delighting in the look of fear in her eyes. "The whole arrangement is controlled by a small computer. There is a delay, so you won't feel anything for about five minutes yet. But when it starts you will find it most interesting. As you probably guessed, those are electrodes attached to your nipples, and to the vagina and butt plugs. The controller will deliver small electrical charges to each, not enough to do any damage but certainly enough for you to feel it. The charges will be at random intervals and of varying lengths. Also, the choice of electrode is random so you never know which will be next. Sometimes two or more will fire at the same time."
He paused to grin. "The effect of these electrical charges is interesting. There is pain, of course. There are pain nerves down there and in the nipples, you know. The electrical stimulation of them will produce pain. But there are other nerves in those areas. Electrical stimulation of them produces other results. I won't describe them, you'll find out soon enough. But I will say it is most interesting."
He smiled a greasy, evil smile and turned to go. At the door he stopped to add, "In case you're wondering, that mirror is one-way. I'll be taping the whole show. Helen wants a copy and I enjoy watching these shows later myself. Well, have fun."
The door closed and Melody immediately noted that there was no handle on the inside. Breathing heavily, she held her position for a long while. It would be a little uncomfortably to walk with that large leather strap between her legs but that was not what she feared. Perhaps, her mind told her, he had not turned it on properly. Or perhaps moving would set it off. She had no desire to find out what an electrical shock in her pussy would feel like. Her fingers wiggled helplessly, unable to reach any of the ropes holding her arms prisoner on her back.
The first shock came just as Melody was wondering if the controller was not working as described. It was a jolt, a fire that suddenly burned and tingled her asshole. She jumped away from the wall and gasped. Fortunately the charge died away almost as soon as it began.
The second shock was in her left nipple, a strong tingling sensation that lasted five seconds but felt like five minutes. She shook her breasts and strained her hands against the ropes that bound them. The tingles seemed to spread into her breast from the nipple. It was as Normal had told her, pain but mixed with a stimulation of her sexually nerves. She tilted her head down and tried to blow on her nipple, as if that might cool the burning feeling that was left after the tingling.
The intervals between shocks was never less than ten seconds but never more than two minutes. The targets of this charge varied with no pattern she could detect. The first time that metal dildo within her vagina came to life she jumped completely off the floor and screamed, not so much from pain as from the feeling that her whole pussy was alive and tingling. It was intense and she had to wonder it really was as harmless as Norman said.
She tried to endure. But the uncertainty of what would be hurt next and how long it would last began to wear her down mentally. That and the complete helplessness and inability to stop this torture. Between jumping when the shocks began, she fought at the ropes, tying to get her hands down to where she could rip out the wires. But the bondage had been done carefully and skillfully with the knowledge that this girl would be fighting will all her strength.
Melody understand then why they had not gagged her, the screams, whines and moans she was emitting would contribute to the show that was being recorded. As would the strange dance she did whenever her pussy burst into tingling life or her asshole suddenly sent shocks into her. She tired rubbing her back against a wall but could not dislodge the battery pack. Then she tried rubbing her breasts against the blue paint. That did nothing but increase the sharp pain in her nipples. She couldn't get the tape off. As the torture continued, Melody realized that more was happening than just her dancing to the pain inflicted upon her most private parts. Against all logic and her wishes, her body was responding in a sexual manner. Her loins heated up and the nipples enlarged within the grasp of those clips, which only made them hurt more. "No, no, no!" she cried as she realized that her body was betraying her. "No, I won't!"
But the choice was not hers. Soon enough she was panting and feeling desire sweep over her like a blanket. It was as if Tom had her tied up and was teasing her body, making her rush towards a climax in spite of her efforts to hold back, a game they often played. But this stimulation was more direct, more intense than his tongue upon her clit or his mouth around her nipples. The small electrical charges switched her body on like so many light switches. Knowing that her performance was being taped brought her shame and a desire to keep her sexual excitement within. Perhaps she couldn't avoid an orgasm, she told herself, but you don't have to let them see it and gloat. Good intentions but quite impossible to carry out.
"Damn you!" she cried to the ceiling as her body grew hot and filled with lust. With eyes closed, Melody began thrusting her hips forward in an ancient and uncontrollable rhythm until, with a loud gasp, she collapsed to the floor where she lay with legs doubled up and clenched tightly together. Laying there she trembled through her first orgasm.
The control box was not human, it didn't know that it had driven this human girl into an orgasm. It didn't care. Unemotionally, it served it's tiny electrical messages to her body, random in placement and timing, but effective. She jerked around on the floor, reacting to the pain, until her body could no longer ignore the messages delivered to the nerves. Then she felt that heat begin again in her loins. "No, no, no!" she moaned as her body reacted to stimulation she could not control.
The second orgasm found her laying on her back, heels dug into the floor, body arched tautly, and trembling. After that one she fell over to lay on her side crying in humiliation and discomfort.
The third orgasm came slower, nerves and muscles growing tired. She was on her feet, pressing her chest against the wall, banging her hips against the hard surface. The terrible part was how good it felt! These were intense orgasms, no matter how shameful and unwanted.
After three hours both the human girl and the battery pack had grown tired. Orgasm, jerking around, and frenzied struggled to free herself had taken their toll on the naked girl. She lay on the floor, trembling a bit and sometimes moaning as the electrical shocks continued. But they were growing weaker themselves as the batteries ran down.
Normal Butler stood over this naked slavegirl and licked his lips. Such a beautiful body! And she had danced so beautifully under the lead of his little device. He felt exhausted just from watching such a display of sexuality for hours. It had been great! He removed the battery pack but left the ropes and straps upon Melody, and weighed it in his hand. It would have been easy to put a fresh battery pack in and let it deliver strong shocks. That-would wake up this beautiful creature. But he didn't. "Wonderful show," he commented but she showed no sign of having heard him. Then he walked from the room to recharge the battery pack. That evening, after letting her sleep for six hours, they reattached the battery pack and taped her for another couple hours. It was a very, very exhausted Melody who was carried to a bedroom and bound spread- eagle upon the bed. She didn't even notice when Norman and Karl both mounted her helpless body and violated her worn out sex with their rods.
It was probably better that she was not aware of being raped. Norman's poor performance and lack of respectably sized equipment would have added insult to injury, although Karl's equipment, if somewhat aged, was sufficient to please most girls, as was his staying power and enthusiasm.
They let her sleep the remainder of the night tied spread on that bed. In the morning, Melody awoke to find Norman laying naked on her body, appeasing his lust within her tired pussy. She did not feel stimulated and was glad when he finished his duty and withdrew.
Later they took her to the yard and washed her down with a hose before taking her back to the Circle H. That ride was endured in the back of the same pickup truck, this time hogtied tightly, but otherwise free to bounce and roll around.
It was not a comfortable trip.
* * *
Tom sat behind his desk and stared out the window of his twelfth story office at the city spread out below him.
Important papers lay stacked on his desk, untouched and ignored. All he felt was frustration and anger. Nothing he did had helped find Melody. With each passing day he became more worried and sick inside. Numerous inquiries about a Ben Saddi had come up negative. Either that was not his real name, Tom told himself, or he didn't exist.
Suddenly he sat up, the pencil in his hand snapping in two. Perhaps this Arab Ben Saddi didn't exist except in a lie told by Helen.
His face was held a grim, determined look as he reached for the phone. He wanted Melody back.
CHAPTER EIGHT - PAYING LIP SERVICE AND A SLAVEGIRL JUST HANGING AROUND
"Quite a device, that electrical stimulator of his," said Helen. On the TV before her a naked girl with arms bound high up on her back danced a strange, twisting and jerking dance, her face flushed and eyes closed. "I've often told him she should patent it and sell it. Make millions." She turned to Melody who stood unable to tear her eyes away from the image of herself on the TV screen. As usual, she was naked and her wrists locked firmly in steel cuffs behind her back. Very little showed on the outside, just some tiny marks on her nipples where the clip had bitten in. Most of the damage was internal, a pussy that felt like it was numb and an asshole that still felt funny.
"Very interesting video, don't you think?" asked Helen politely. Melody did not answer. She was remember how it felt to be that girl humping her hips against the wall in a strange parody of the sexual act. "Well, no matter what you think," continued Helen. "And you don't have to worry about your little pussy. It feels like it will never work again but it will. Norman has done this to other girls before and they recovered."
For a few more minutes both women watched the image on the screen wiggle and jump each time a new electrical charge assaulted some sexual part of her body. Even though Melody had hated it, there was still a fascination to seeing that girl so helpless and under the control of an emotionless black box. When Helen again spoke, the figure on the screen was withering on the floor, body arched and trembling all over.
"I could take you for a drive today, but I don't feel like that. I think that perhaps you would like some rest so today you'll do nothing." She grinned. "Nothing except pay homage to the male organ, in a sort of way." Melody did not see any reason why that statement amused Helen so much.
Roger was fetched and orders given, then the naked slavegirl was marched away to whatever fate awaited her that day. It was a beautiful day, warm sunlight touched her bare skin as they walked around the stables and down a path leading into some trees. A short distance later they came to a clearing among the trees and the device that was to hold Melody prisoner for the day. It was simple, just a short post of stout wood with a replica of the male phallus sticking from near the top in a horizontal position. A firm hand on her shoulder pushed Melody down to her knees before the post and, with a sinking heart, she realized that her mouth would be at just the level of that dildo shaft. And, indeed, that was the meaning of Helen's words. Roger indicated with a firm hand against the back of her head that she was to take that shaft into her mouth. A small ring set in the post below the shaft provided the means of assuring that she would not remove the shaft. A short chain from that ring to the collar around her neck, pulled tight and locked, made it impossible for her to pull her head back far enough to dislodge the enamel painted wooden replica of a penis.
Roger produced an second pair of handcuffs and locked her ankles together, then wished her a good day and retreated back to the main ranch.
It big enough to force her mouth fairly wide open, and long enough to press against the back of her mouth. She tested the limits allowed by that chain and found that she could, mainly by tilting her head back, slide half the shaft out of her mouth, but only half. When her head returned to a normal position, the shaft slide back in. It was a bit too much like sliding her mouth around a real penis, and she didn't try that again.
With a sigh she resigned herself to spending a day in this humiliating position, kneeling and having to endure this male symbol in her mouth all day, as if she were paying homage to it, as Helen had put it. She might have been able to rise to her feet but only by bending over to keep her head in place. And she could see no reason to try that.
As time passed, Melody, seeking anything that might divert her mind from utter boredom, thought more and more about her lover, Tom. He would love this penis post, she thought. It would appeal to his masculinity, and perverse sense of humor. Many times he had required that she keep his penis in her mouth for long periods, as a means of humbling her. It also felt good to him, he said. She didn't doubt that. Little did he know that it also felt good to her and she enjoyed those times when she was "forced" to pay service to his wonderful tool in that manner.
But this was different. This was not Tom, not her lover, not a real human male. This was an inanimate object designed to humiliate her, nothing else. Still... In that submissive part of her mind, Melody found the act of kneeling with that phallus in her mouth exciting. She bet that she made an interesting picture. The helplessness provided by a couple pair of handcuffs and a simply piece of chain was the kind of treatment that always turned her on. And it was an act she loved to do... Even if it was not a real penis.
It was a long day. Her knees became sore from resting on the same patch of hard ground, and she found herself shifting weight in attempts to ease the discomfort a bit. She could not lowered herself to the ground, the height of the wooden penis prevented that. And her jaw began to ache from being forced open for so long. She found it hard to swallow with that thing pressing her tongue down. Relief could be had only by arching backwards, tilting her head, and sliding the shaft out of her mouth enough so she could swallow. It was a long day.
As evening shades began to darken the clearing, Roger came for her, unlocking the chain on her collar and the handcuffs on her ankles. Her knees were stiff and her jaw ached, but she was really little harmed by the day on her knees. It was certainly a mild day of torment compared to most of the other days she had spent as the property of Helen.
After the evening meal, she was cleared up and placed in her stall, the usual leg irons locked on her ankles and wrists left handcuffed behind her back. Just before falling asleep, she reached around with one hand, her fingertips just able to touch the pubic patch. But it was not enough to reach that part most sensitive to the touch. After her day with a mouth full of penis replica and thoughts of Tom, she was homy. And she would have liked to see if her sex still worked after the electrical torture at Norman's place. It still felt a little funny down there, but she didn't know if that meant it would not respond properly to the right stimulation. She fell asleep wondering if she would ever feel that glorious feeling of Tom's real shaft sliding into her pussy.
* * *
It was the next day that Melody finally met the slavegirl she saw on her first day at the Circle H ranch. "Mistress Helen says that perhaps you'll learn something from witnessing the punishment of Colleen," said Roger as he took Melody from her stall. "She attempted to escape the other day. Normally Helen decrees a whipping for that offense, but since Colleen was whipped only three days ago, she sentenced the girl to a different punishment."
"Are there other slavegirls here?" asked Melody as they walked out of the stables area.
"You should know that speaking without being asked a question or told to is a punishable offense here," said Roger simply. "For that you'll be bound in an uncomfortable position while you witness Colleen's punishment. I was simply going to chain you up in the bam but now... Well, you'll see."
Melody shut up while Roger led her into a bam. The inside was pretty much like any bam on a horse ranch but it did have one difference. It held a naked girl hanging from a rafter, and by her thumbs! Melody stared in disbelief but there was no denying. The naked girl, a teenage redhead of very nice figure was, indeed, hanging by leather bands attached to a metal bar and slipped around each thumb. Her arms were straight up and her toes pointed straight down towards the bare earth floor almost two feet below her. She was not gagged and there were no other restraints upon her beyond the leather bands supporting all her weight. From the expression of pain on her face, Melody could tell that this was a terrible punishment, certainly living up to its reputation.
Roger cleaned off a wooden bench and pulled it over to sit in front of the hanging girl. Then he fetched several coils of rope from peg along one wall and brought them to the bench. Unlocking the handcuffs that had joined Melody's hands together behind her back all night, he replaced them with rope, on both the wrists and elbows, which were tightly crushed together. Then he sat Melody upon the bench and bound her legs at the ankles and above the knees. He easily picked her up and turned her over onto her stomach. Another length of rope was used to bind her ankles to her wrists in a firmly tight hogtie. He then used more rope to lash her middle down to the table, and to bind her knees down to the end. An additional piece of rope was used from her elbows to the edge of the bench where her head hung over the end. Altogether, Melody was securely bound and lashed to the bench. She would not be getting free, nor would she be very comfortable. It was, as Roger called it, a punishment, but not a torture.
Their jailer-left the two naked slavegirls alone in the bam. Neither was gagged, so perhaps so it was intended they should talk. It was not easy for Melody to see into Colleen's face, she had to lift her head up and back a bit to look up that far, which was as strain.
"I'm Colleen," said the redhead through clenched teeth.
"I've been here for five months."
"I'm Melody. I've been here only a few days."
"I know. I saw them bring you in."
"Are we the only slavegirls here?"
It sounded funny to say "slavegirls" out loud.
"Right now. There was another girl here when I came. And another came a month after I did. Then the first girl left. I never did get a chance to talk to her, so I never learned her name."
"Does that hurt as much as it looks?" asked Melody. "Worse," was the simple reply.
After a while she elaborated, "When I was first put up here, about half an hour ago, I fought the leather straps on my thumbs. But that hurt so much that I had to quit. It hurts terribly, but less if you don't move. Any little movement sends burning sensations into my hands. My thumbs are already numb. They look terrible."
Melody looked up to see that the thumbs in question were dark colored. She could believe that they were numb. "Why are they doing this to you?"
"First off, honey," advised the suffering girl, "they'll hurt you around here for any or no reason. But in this case I tried to escape. It was hopeless but I tried. And was caught."
"How could you try? I've been constantly chained or bound up every since Helen got her hands on me."
"I was tied. My arms were behind me with the elbows tied together. Roger had just unlocked my legs and was bending over to pick up some rope to bind my legs. I kicked him as hard as I could and ran."
"You kicked him?!"
"As hard as I could, honey. He went into a water trough. I went towards the trees as fast as I could."
Melody shook her head. The girl must have wanted escape awfully bad to take such a stupid risk.
"I can run pretty good with my arms tied behind me," she continued. "Pony training, you know. But Roger took off after me like I was standing still. I think that guy used to play football or something because he can move. I hadn't gotten a hundred yards when suddenly I was falling flat on my face in the dirt. He carried me back and finished the hogtie he had started on. Then he told that bitch Helen and she sentenced me to hang by my thumbs."
"For how long?"
"I don't know. It could be an hour, it could be all day." Colleen groaned. "I hope it's not long. My thumbs hurt something terrible, and the pain is shooting up my arms. If I'm left like this all day, my thumbs will fall off."
"I wish I could help you," said Melody sincerely, "but, as you can see...."
"Yeah, I know. Every slavegirl around this place is constantly restrained."
A silence fell for a few minutes. Colleen kept her eyes closed and a very strained expression on her face. Melody wished she could think of something to say that might bring some comfort. Finally she decided to risk someone overhearing her hopes. "Tom will get me," she said with more conviction than she really felt.
"Who's Tom?"
'Tom's my boyfriend. Well, it's more than that but we weren't married, not really. Anyway, he knows who has me and I'm sure he's trying to get me out of here."
"I had a boyfriend, too. But he's not coming to save me!" She laughed. "He was the bastard who sold me to Helen in the first place. He found out that Helen would buy girls. I don't know how but somehow. When he felt like dumping me, he decided to make a little money off the procedure. One night I was in his bed, a little drunk, naked and expecting a night of lovemaking, when Bob brought out the ropes." She sighed. "I thought it was just something kinky he wanted to try so I let him tie me up. Stupid girl! When I couldn't move, that bastard shoved this rubber ball in my mouth and I was completely helpless. Next thing I knew I was being loaded into the trunk of a car and Roger was giving Bob an envelope that contained a lot of money. Suddenly I was property," she said bitterly.
"I can't believe your boyfriend would sell you," said Melody. "He couldn't really have loved you."
"Oh, he loved me. He loved my body, and making love to me, and spanking my bottom. But that's not the same, is it? What about you? How did you get here?"
'Tom sold me... Whoops! Well, it was different than what happen to you. We were doing it to make money."
Colleen frowned a little more.
"Well, you see...." About ten minutes later Colleen agreed that she understood why Tom sold her. And that it was, indeed, a unique way to make money. But, she pointed out, it only worked if you were sold to someone you could escape from.
"Yes, I know," said Melody with a sigh. "But the important part is that Tom is looking for me. Don't you have any family looking for you?"
"My mother is back East. Father took off when I was five. But she doesn't know where I am. We didn't talk much after I ran away from home a year ago."
Again a silence descended. Finally Colleen opened her eyes again. "Thanks," she said.
"For what?"
"For getting me to talk. And talking to me. It helps take my mind off the pain and the fact that my thumbs are being destroyed and the pain is terrible."
"Well, then let's talk some more. This hogtie isn't too comfortable, either."
"Honey, I'll trade positions with you in a second if they would let me."
"I understand. I'm curious. You say that I'm the third slavegirl you've seen here. What happened to the other two?"
"The first girl was here when I got here. I saw her pulling that cart around the grounds. Apparently she had already been trained as a pony girl. They kept her in the same stall they keep you in. I don't think they like the slavegirls to talk to each other. Then Billy came. About a week later the first girl was gone."
"Billy?"
"That's her name. Oh, her real name was Elizabeth but somehow she got the nick name 'Billy' out of that. She was one foolish little girl, I'll tell you."
"What do you mean?"
"She was always fighting them. Never did learn that it only got her hurt. Hell, she was only about five foot nothing tall and couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. But she was always trying to kick Roger. And she was always mouthing off to Helen. It seemed like she was always being punished."
"Didn't she learn?"
"Never. I saw her hang like this one day for all morning. She was still hanging when I was taken away for pony training. One time I saw them hang her upside down by her ankles from that big tree over there. They hung a weight from her wrists so she was all strung out, and then Helen whipped the poor girl until she was screaming. Next day she tried to overturn the cart and dump Helen over a hill side."
Melody shook her head. She hated what was happening to her and wanted to escape, but she was smart enough to know that outright rebellion would only get her punished. And they had some real punishments around this place.
"Well, Helen decided that she would never made a good pony, too small and too feisty."
"So what happened to her?"
"Last I saw of her, she had been bound up into a ball, gagged, and was being shoved into a small steamer trunk. Then they put the trunk in a pickup truck and drove her away. Never saw her again."
Melody swallowed. "And the first girl, the one who was here when you came?"
"One day she was gone. I overheard Helen saying something about having sold her. She was real docile and a good pony. I guess there's a market for trained slavegirls." Melody could understand that. There were too many people in the world who had more money than they knew what to do with. And owning pretty, young slavegirls was an expensive but interesting hobby. One night, while she lay naked and bound up next to Tom in bed, they had discussed the idea of getting a slavegirl of their own. But jealousy was Melody's main reaction and Tom laughed off the idea. Yet, the more Melody thought about it, the more she could see where someone could really enjoy owning a pretty slavegirl.
Colleen was moaning now and getting a very nervous look in her eyes. Like a trapped and frightened animal. "Let me know if you see someone coming," she asked Melody. "I want to get down so badly that I'll promise anything or do anything. Really, I will. Oh, please... This hurts so much."
"We could try yelling," suggested Melody. "We could tell Roger that serious, permanent damage is being done to your thumbs. Maybe he'll let you down."
"Fat chance. He's obeying the orders of that female Fuhrer. And she loves to see women in pain. Oh, Melody, I wish you could work your way out of those ropes."
Melody tried but the ropes were too many, too tight, and too skillfully placed for any woman to defeat. She only hurt herself with her struggles.
They talked for a while longer but the main topic of Colleen's side of the conversation became the terrible pain shooting up her arms and in her hands. And the lamenting that her thumbs will be useless forever now.
Roger came just as Melody feared Colleen was about to begin screaming. The redhead begged and pleaded to be let down. She offered her body, she offered to do anything Roger wanted. He only politely pointed out that he could do anything he wanted to either of the slavegirls anyway. Then Colleen cried with frustration and anger. "It just isn't fair," she kept repeating. "It just isn't fair." The tears crawled down her cheeks and dropped to her breasts.
"You've been hanging by the thumbs for three hours now," Roger said. "You can remain there for another hour and then come down, or...."
"What?" she asked eagerly. "Or you can be whipped across the bottom for a dozen strokes and then let down now."
"A dozen strokes! My bottom is already sore and marked up from the other day. That will be terrible," Colleen moaned.
"And the jerking of your body as you react to the pain will make your thumbs hurt much more," Roger pointed out.
"Oh, you... You...." Colleen sputtered but held back from saying the word she meant. "Okay, I'll take the whipping," she finally said bitterly. "You can tell Helen that her slavegirl suffered and won't try to escape again."
"That's Mistress Helen," Roger pointed out casually. "That will be fifteen strokes instead."
Colleen moaned and Melody shared her agony. This place just wasn't fair!
The whip was a short one, sort of like the one used by Helen in the sulky but not as long. It was very flexible and the end was forked into two pieces of leather. Roger positioned himself behind the hanging girl with care and measured the whip against the bare flesh. Melody could see Colleen bracing herself, eyes closed, face set. There was a swish, followed by a crack then a scream.
The naked body hanging before her jerked and arched forward. The scream was followed by a second, both being really part of the same one. Melody guessed that the pain in her thumbs from the jerk of her body was terrible.
"One," said Roger. Each slash of the whip brought forth a crack of leather against flesh and a scream. There was no holding back, the pain was far too great for this teenage girl to keep within, even is she had wanted to do so. Melody grimaced with each stroke, feeling for this poor girl. The strokes passed slowly, each carefully placed so as to cover all of the bare bottom, laying fresh marks over black and blue bruises only a couple days old. Colleen tried not to move but the pain was simply too much and she jerked with each fresh infliction of agony upon her ass.
Finally the ordeal was over. It was a sobbing and very hurt girl who was lowered to the ground. The leather bands came off her thumbs, Roger taking surprising care and gentleness with them. Colleen cried out as each thumb began receiving circulation again. When it seemed that the teenage girl would faint, he ordered her to stand and followed that with a slap to her bare and tortured bottom. She snapped back up to stand there, utterly dejected, arms hanging at her sides, fingers unmoving, and tears streaming down her cheeks.
When much of the normal color had returned to the tortured thumbs, Roger gathered the hands together and locked them in handcuffs behind her back. Then he led her from the bam. Melody could see the punished bottom as Colleen was being led away, and it was not a pretty sight. Impressive, yes, with all kinds of shades of red and purple and blues, but a frightening sight.
Melody spent the rest of the day hogtied and lashed to that bench. She kept telling herself that she was suffering much less than Colleen had, no matter how uncomfortable the ropes made her. When Roger came to take her to dinner, she made a point of not asking how Colleen was, or saying a word. She was a slavegirl learning her trade.
* * *
"Thanks, Pete," said Tom as he put down the receiver. On the single piece of paper before him was written an address.
He circled it with the pen then tapped the point against it. "So she has a ranch...." he mused. "And what might she hide on a ranch...?"
There was no one in the office to answer his question but Tom didn't mind. A few minutes later he picked up the phone again and made two calls to prepare for a little hunting expedition.
CHAPTER NINE - SCREWED BY A MISTRESS
Heading deeper into summer makes the California days warmer, and heats up any slavegirl ponies who happen to be out in the open pulling their mistresses in a sulky. Melody sweated as she marched up the hill in a perfect slave pony step, her naked body moving in lovely high steps, each with the knee brought all the way up to the breast. Melody had learned the hard way that it didn't pay to get lazy and let the knees not come all the way up. Her driver knew when that was happening from how high the foot wearing the ridiculously high heels came up. Click, click, click went the high heels against the pavement as the sulky slowly moved up the path in the morning sun.
For two days now, Melody's arms had been bound behind her back, crossed and tied high up, every since yesterday's training. For some reason, or maybe none, Helen had decided that Melody should stay so bound for the night. Roger showed no sympathy, and Melody spent the night laying on her straw bed while her shoulders and wrists hurt. She was able to sleep, a slavegirl learns to get sleep in almost any form of restraints, but it was not restful sleep and she had to fight to keep from yawning. The metal bit in her mouth made a yawn look very strange, like she was trying to force the bit out. She hated that metal bar that pushed her tongue down and gave Helen the means of directing her with a gentle tug of the reins.
But this day there was something different to the scene, but something that neither Helen nor Roger was aware of. On a hill behind the Circle H a figure lay in the grass and observed the training going on below with binoculars, his green and brown camouflage clothing blending pretty well in with the tall wild grass. For almost an hour he had been watching the sulky move slowly along the paths, sometimes disappearing from sight behind trees.
At first, when Melody had been brought out, hitched to the sulky, and first began that lovely slave pony step, the man hiding in the grass licked his lips and felt his manhood coming to attention. He loved that lovely naked female body on display, and the way each leg lifted high was delightful. Tom licked his lips and made mental notes about future fun and games he would play with Melody when he got her back.
For most of the morning he watched, waited and made plans. Finally, convinced that he knew the layout of the place and how many people were there, Tom withdrew and began a three mile hike back to his car. Melody had finished her prancing around between the poles of the cart and been showered and put away in the stable.
A great deal of tension had flooded out of the man when he first saw his love being led from the stables, alive and apparently unhurt. In fact, he might one day thank Helen for training her. The idea of owning a pony girl had never occurred to Tom, but he liked what he saw. There was enough property behind his house for him to set up a path. And a sulky shouldn't be too hard to buy or build. The relief at knowing his love was unharmed mixed with normal sexual tension and gave rise to numerous exotic ideas of what he would do as soon as he got his hands back on Melody.
But he had to fight down the urge to rush immediately down the hill to repossess his girl. There was one other man who had been helping Helen with the training. And there were at least two other males doing jobs around the ranch, which, not surprisingly, had some real horses in a stable not far from the one dedicated to human ponies. And he had seen at least two female employees. Plus there was at least one other girl being kept prisoner at the Circle H, he had seen a redheaded naked teenager taken out of the stables and tied between two posts with arms and legs spread wide. Later, when she had finished with her ride, Helen herself came to where that redhead stood stretched out. There followed a mild whipping with a riding crops, nothing major by Helen's standards, but painful enough so Tom could hear the poor girl's cries all the way up the hill. Apparently this young girl had done something to deserve being punished.
Or maybe not, Tom corrected himself. Helen seemed to be the kind who would hurt a girl just for the sake of watching the pain.
He delayed his departure a bit to study that redhead with his binoculars. She was quite a nice looking teenager with a very fine figure. Even though far away, Tom could see whip marks across her bottom and breasts and knew that this cropping was not the first punishment for this redhead by a long shot. The idea of such serious punishment didn't turn him on too much, but she Was a fine looking teenager and he would have loved to get his ropes around that sexy body.
As he walked back to his car, Tom considered the possibility of taking that redhead along with Melody. If she were really being held against her will, then she would be every so grateful for her freedom. And if she was like Melody and loved being bound up and sexually used while helpless, then all kinds of ideas flashed through his mind. Not that he didn't love Melody, that was his first priority. It's just that he hated to turn down such a lovely young thing. Especially since she would probably be already restrained and ready for him to just pick -up and cart off.
Tom was whistling when he reached his car. In her stall, Melody arched her body to try and find some ease for her aching arms and shoulders. Neither Roger nor Helen had shown the slightest inclination to free her hands from the ropes that held them up on her back, and she was beginning the second twenty-four hour periods so bound. She didn't like the idea of spending another night with this pain. Yet, she knew full well that if the whim struck Helen, she would stay bound like this for days. Or even worse. They had also left the high heels strapped on her feet and she wondered how long it would be before she could straighten out her feet from the arch those shoes forced them into. Her feet were beginning to hurt just from the shoes.
The afternoon passed quietly in the ponygirl stables.
Colleen was brought in and taken to her stall. Melody could see fresh marks across her bottom and knew that Helen had been swinging her riding crop around again. Colleen was chained up with handcuffs on her wrists and another pair locking her elbows together. A pair of leg irons adorned her ankles, connected by a rather short chain.
That night, after the evening meal, Melody was taken to her mistress' bedroom. Her arms were still bound up on her back but the rest of her body was free and nothing but bare skin.
She was told to stand in the comer of the room by Roger, Helen not being anywhere in sight. She did as she was told, feeling as she stood there like some bad schoolgirl having to stand in the comer, a lot of fear. Lesbian lovemaking didn't bother her. Even when forced upon her by this dominant woman she hated. But the last time she had been in this bedroom and tried her best to please her mistress, she had been severely punished. Melody had not wish to have to stand with her nipples chained around the bedpost again.
Helen came in and Melody had to blink. Her mistress was dressed as a man, business suit, tie, even a hat. She walked over to her slavegirl and weighted one large breast in a hand, much as she would consider a melon at the store.
"Hey, girlie, nice boobs you got there," she said. "Real nice. Yeah, real nice."
Melody didn't like the way her breasts were being stared at. She also didn't like the fact that her hands were completely out of the way and unable to protect her globes. But apparently Helen was playing some kind of game. Perhaps she should play along.
"Please, mister, don't hurt me," she said in a begging whine. She looked into Helen's eyes to see if she were playing properly.
"Girlie, I like to hurt girls," Helen fairly growled. "And those big boobs are just asking for it."
"Please...."
"Shut up!" Helen suddenly slapped the breast she had been holding, then roughly turned Melody around, as if examining the merchandise. "Nice," she commented as if to herself.
Melody shut up. She was afraid of playing the game wrong and incurring the wrath of her owner.
"Jump on the bed, girlie," came an order. "And spread those legs real wide."
The bound slavegirl hastened to obey, even to the point of spreading wide her legs in an obscene manner she hated. Helen smiled and put her hands on her hips. "That's nice, girlie. You's got a real nice snatch!"
Melody assumed that "snatch" was slang for her pubic area, perhaps her vagina. That such a word should refer to that area was beyond her.
Helen mounted the bed to kneel between those spread legs, then did something that surprised Melody no end. She zipped down the front of her pants exactly as a man would were he going to screw a girl and in such a hurry that he didn't want to waste the time taking his pants off. The shock to Melody was what came out of that fly. At first it looked like a real male penis. Then Melody could see that it was only a dildo, an artificial penis of rubber-like plastic. It was large and stood straight out like a very ready male member would. Melody fleetingly wondered how Helen had kept it in her pants so it didn't show before but sprang to life now.
But she had little chance to speculate about the housing arrangement for this monster, she was too busy gulping as it neared her "snatch" and she realized that she was going to be screwed by it From her lesbian friends, she knew some girls liked to strap on dildos and perform the sex act on another girl as if she were a man. She didn't know any who went to the trouble of dressing up like a man, but that wasn't too kinky.
At least not when compared to turning a naked girl into a pony to prance around the back forty.
Helen, true to her proclaimed male roughness, was not gentle with Melody. Her breasts were mauled, pinched, and squeezed until they hurt. Her vagina was roughly invaded by Helen's artificial penis, which was shoved hard into her before her body had been given a chance to lubricate that love tunnel. It hurt and the bound girl cried out. Fortunately her vagina quickly produced enough juices so the pain didn't last too long. Helen seemed to delight in the agony she caused by entering a vagina not yet ready for lovemaking.
The dildo had advantages. It would never reach a climax, so it would never go limp. It was large and filled up Melody's sex, a stimulus her body responded to. And Helen seemed content to "pump" her slavegirl for a long time. Melody found herself unable to control her body's responses and was driven into a climax she didn't want. But Helen, with her male- clothed body pressing down on Melody's, didn't stop to let her catch her breath. The pumping of that dildo continued, stretching out the pleasure for the bound girl on the bottom but also forcing her body into sexual excitement more than she would have wanted. Tom had done that to her sometimes. Using his remarkable staying power and good sized shaft, he had continued working Melody's vagina until she was driven into multiple orgasms that her tied down body could not control. With Tom it had been incredible pleasure, with Helen is as a torment as this unnatural lovemaking continued.
When Helen finally withdrew from her slavegirl, Melody was exhausted and trembling all over. It had been a very long session of lovemaking, perhaps longer than even Helen had anticipated. Melody was a girl who naturally came to multiple orgasms, and quickly recuperated between them. The longer she pumped away at this slavegirl, the longer the orgasms lasted. Much more than Helen had ever seen any girl endure before.
Quickly Helen threw herself on the bed beside Melody and pulled down those men's pants. The dildo was unsnapped from its straps and shoved, still moist from Melody's juices, into a wet and hungry vagina. For only a few seconds, Helen pumped the dildo hard into herself, both hands holding on to it to drive it solidly into her pussy. Then she hit her own orgasm and doubled up, groaning loudly and shaking the bed with the tremors passing through her body. To Melody, it looked like Helen was pushing that dildo into herself as hard as her hands could. Perhaps she was.
For a long time they lay there, two exhausted women, both with well-used pussies. Melody began to suspect that Helen had fallen asleep, so she began to ease herself out of the bed, half-formed ideas of running away teasing her. But as one foot touched the floor, Helen's strong hand reached out to grasp Melody's hair.
"Going somewhere?" she asked sweetly.
"No, Mistress."
"Good."
For a while nothing was said but Melody's hair was held painfully tightly in a strong hand. Then Helen eased her fingers out of the long dark tresses. "You know, I've never seen a girl who could come so much. I can usually wear a girl out in half an hour, perhaps four orgasms tops. You just kept on going. I thought you'd never stop coming!"
Melody didn't know whether she was being complimented or accused of some crime.
"Never saw a gal like you. That must be an incredible experience for you. I wish I could get it off like that." Helen's voice was both admiring and accusing.
Suddenly the hand that had held her hair shoved against her shoulder and Melody found herself falling onto the floor. "You little bitch," snarled Helen, suddenly angry. "So you think you're so much better than I am? I'll teach you."
Her arm was roughly grabbed and she was dragged to her feet. A very angry Helen pushed the girl out of the bedroom as she hollered for Roger to get his ass in there. Roger came up so quickly that Melody had to wonder if he were standing by in case his employer needed him.
"Take her out to the bam and hang her up by her thumbs!" Helen ordered.
Roger took the other arm and led Melody quickly down the hallway. It seemed like the sight of a Helen naked from the waist down and wearing a business suit above that didn't bother him at all. Perhaps it was not unusual on the Circle H.
"And make that other little bitch watch her," called Helen.
The small leather bands were waiting, hanging from the steel bar a couple feet apart. Melody's arms were so hurting her and numb when the ropes were removed that she couldn't rise them up when Roger told her to. He had to take each hand and slip the leather noose around the thumb.
"Please...." Melody begged out of fear and agony of arms finally unfolded from her back. "I'm suffering enough already. Please?"
For an answer, Roger touched the button on the wall and the steel bar rose, pulling the short chains and leather straps with it. Melody felt her arms straighten and then the tension begin on her thumbs. Slowly the stress grew until she was moaning. Slowly the muscles of her young body stretched uncomfortably. Slowly her toes lifted from the floor.
It was not as bad as she had expected but that might well be because her hands had been numb when the ropes had come off them. But it was hurting enough and she knew it would grow worse.
Roger locked a pair of handcuffs on her ankles. The hanging nudity didn't say a word. What was a little more restraints when she was hanging by her thumbs?
Colleen was brought in a few minute later. She looked as if she had been asleep and was blinking. Her arms were locked behind her back by two pairs of handcuffs, one on the wrists, the other on the elbows. Her ankles were joined by leg irons with a chain only long enough to allow her shuffling steps.
Roger tied a length of rope to a ring in the wall, then tossed it over one of the rafter. He passed the rope through the link of the joining chain of the handcuffs on her wrists then tossed the rope back over the beam. When he pulled on the free end, Colleen's arms rose behind her until she was leaning forward and her steel-clad wrists were at the level of her head. The rope was then tied off to the ring.
Roger looked over the two naked girls and left them to suffer for the rest of the night.
"No, please, Roger, not for the whole night!" Melody was pleading. "Not for the whole night! My thumbs will fall off."
But Roger was gone and her pleas were not answered.
On the hill top behind the stables and barn and figure dressed in black crawled through the grass to a position where he could observe most of the ranch through night glasses. Had he been ten minutes earlier, he would have seen Melody dragged into the bam. Had he been five minutes earlier, he would have seen a sleepy Colleen taken into the same building. And a few seconds prior, he would have seen Roger cross the dirt area back to the house.
But he saw none of these things, and settled down to wait for the middle of the night when he could be sure all below were asleep.
* * *
As her thumbs woke from their numbness, the pain increased. The strung up girl cried as the leather bands cut into her thumbs, as the terrible pull on her hands increased, and as pain shot back down her arms from tortured thumbs. She quickly learned that Colleen had been telling the truth when she said that not moving was best, no matter how much you longed to struggle.
"The pain is terrible," said Colleen from her bent forward and none-too comfortable position, "but you'll survive."
Melody only moaned. After half an hour the pain was terrible and she was certain she could not last out the night without screaming her head off. But as time crept by the screams did not come. Perhaps they should have, perhaps Melody was made of sterner stuff. Or perhaps she feared punishment if she woke those in the house during the night with screams that might well be heard there. Whatever the reason, she did not scream. But she moaned and cried and whined like a beaten puppy.
After an hour of increasing agony, Melody decided she could no longer stand this and had to do something about it. The floor was about a foot below her toes, too far to reach.
The steel bar was only five or six inches above her suffering thumbs. For a while she stared at that bar, the short chains hanging down from each end, and the two longer chains that went up to the rafter from each end. It was hard to think of anything but the pain, yet Melody's mind was working and the resemblance of this bar to another she had known when she was young did not escape her mind.
She sucked in a breath and braced herself for pain. Then she lifted her legs before her and tilted her head backwards. She cried with the pain that came from movement, but continued. Slowly her legs came up and she rotated on her shoulders, her arms straight. Her feet swung up and when she bent her knees so her feet passed under the bar. Then she straightened them and strained to push her legs upward. The final move was to bend her knees again so that they "hooked" over the bar. With her calves over the bar, she was finally able to take the weight off her thumbs. She cried as the strain came off those tortured digits.
It took a long time for her to work the leather bands loose. They were only loops that were held tight by her weight, but they were very tightly dug in and she could only work on them with fingers from the same hand. Then she realized that she could lift her head and grasp the band in her teeth. The bands came off, and Melody hung there with her arms hanging down, crying at the pain of returning circulation.
Finally she could take the bar in her hands and hold it tight enough to lift her legs off and swing them back down. She dropped to the floor.
For a while Melody only stood there in the very dim light, as if unable to believe that she was actually free. Not that she really was, there was still that pair of handcuffs Roger had locked around her ankles. But her hands were free and she could walk if only in a shuffle.
Her first act in freedom was to untie the rope and lower Colleen's arms. The rope came off but she could do nothing about the handcuffs locked on the redhead's wrists and elbows, just as she could do nothing about the pair on her own ankles.
"That was brilliant!" whispered Colleen. "I hung there for hours, never thinking that I could put my legs up on the bar."
"It wasn't easy," said Melody. "It hurt my thumbs something terrible. But I want out of here."
"I'll go along with that. But what do we do now?"
Melody looked around. There were no convenient handcuff keys laying about. "I guess we could sneak into the house and try to find keys," she ventured. "But that really doesn't sound like a good idea."
"I agree. We'll make too much noise when we walk. And we certainly won't get very far if we try to walk away."
"Well," said Melody, "we have all night to walk."
"I don't think we'll get anywhere near far enough. In the morning, when they find we're gone, they'll just saddle up horses and have us caught in minutes. How far do you figure you can walk with those handcuffs on your ankles? A mile? Two?"
"Not enough," agreed Melody. "So what do we do?" Both girls thought for a while. Suddenly Colleen's eyes brightened. "The jeep. There's a jeep in the parking area. The keys are in it. I've seen them. Roger has a habit of leaving the keys in the ignition. If we could drive it...."
"Well, your arms are pretty much locked behind you. But could I drive it with my ankles locked together?"
"We can only try," said Colleen eagerly. Then she sobered. "Of course, if we're caught, we'll be hanging by our thumbs and they won't use a bar. Or Helen will dream up some other terrible punishment."
"Hell, let's go." Melody only wanted to get away from that ranch. "Which way is that jeep?"
"Out this side of the bam," said Colleen, leading the way, ankle chain making tiny musical tinkles.
Unfortunately for the two escaping slavegirls, the door they left the bam by was on the opposite side from the hill on which hide Tom. Likewise the jeep they sought to escape in was hidden from his sight.
The keys were in the ignition. And the jeep had an automatic transmission so Melody didn't have to worry about working a clutch with chained feet. Colleen climbed into the passenger seat and Melody settled into the driver's. It was dark, but they could see each other's faces in the dim light.
For a second their eyes met and held.
"Go for it," whispered Colleen. Melody turned the key and the engine instantly came to life.
On the hill Tom heard the engine and sat up. A pair of headlights sprang into life on the other side of the bam, followed by a jeep hurrying across the paved parking area and down the road. Two windows in the house suddenly showed lights. People came out and the noise of startled people floated up to his hiding place. He wondered what was going on.
CHAPTER TEN - ESCAPE INTO THE HILLS
The jeep that raced along the road in the middle of the night contained two naked, chained, but happy girls. Both were laughing with the pure joy of having gotten away from a place of pain for both of them, and the wonderful prospects of total freedom soon. Melody had no trouble working the brake and gas pedals as soon as she realized that she could simply put both feet together and work them as one.
The first problem came when the road they were following came to an end where it joined another, slightly larger road. Melody halted the jeep and looked for a sign. "No signs," she informed Colleen. "Which way?"
"Didn't you notice anything when you were brought here?" asked Colleen.
"No. I was blindfolded. In addition to being totally bound up and gagged. Didn't you see anything?"
"I was shipped into her in the trunk of a car," replied Colleen. "Not much to be seen from there. Well, just go one way. And hurry, we don't know how soon someone will be chasing us."
Melody muttered something about them not taking her alive, and turned left. As the jeep raced along, both girl's hair streaming behind them in the wind, they were certain that freedom was only a short distance ahead. They would find a policeman who would get those chains cut off, give them clothing, and then proceed back to the Circle H with a large number other policemen to arrest Helen and Roger and throw them in jail for a good, long time.
They did not see a policeman anywhere. They did not see another person, nor any dwellings for many miles. When they came to a side road and a sign, Melody slowed down to read it. "Perhaps it's another ranch. Surely someone will help us." The sign proclaimed "Fool's Paradise." Melody stomped on the gas and made the tires squeal on the pavement. "We don't need help there," she told Colleen firmly. Then she had to explain her little visit to the Fool's Paradise and the wonderful electric sexual simulators that she endured. Colleen had never been loaned to Normal Butler, but she took Melody's word that it was not the place to stop.
They then discovered that none of the roads held signs, and several times they had to make choices at intersections and Y's. After almost an hour of driving they began to become discouraged at not finding help.
"Where the hell is someone?" asked Colleen. "We've been driving for a long time. Did we take a wrong turn?"
"I don't know," replied Melody. But at least I don't see any headlight behind us. I don't think Helen or Roger could be following."
"Hope not. Can you imagine what our punishment would be for grand thief auto, added on to escaping?"
Melody shivered and tried not to think about it. They seemed to be moving to higher elevations as they drove through the night. Melody could see the stars enough to know which way was north, but what good did that do when she didn't know which way was civilization?
Just as she was about to suggest that they turn around because the road had narrowed considerably over the last ten miles or so, and was getting rather higher into the mountains, a terrible thing happened. The engine sputtered. Then it ran smoothly. Then it sputtered again. Then it quit.
As the jeep coasted to a halt, both naked girls within here cursing in very unlady-like language. Melody set the parking brake and turned off the lights lest they attract the wrong attention to themselves. She was sure that Helen and Roger would not let them get away without a chase. Perhaps dozens of people were combing the mountains for them.
As they sat there, the darkness closed in on them. Being a moonless night, the dark was far more intense than city girls were used to. A million stars blazed overhead but gave very little light to the surroundings. As near as they could tell, they were on the side of a mountain. Pine trees could be made out against the stars on all sides of them. The engine made cracking and pinging noises as it cooled but they could hear no other motors so they felt that pursuit, if it were coming that way, was a ways off.
"What do we do?" asked Colleen. It's cool and we're naked. We're lost. And there's a bunch of people looking for us. When they get us, they'll torture us. Maybe we shouldn't have run."
"Of course, we should have." Melody pounded on the steering wheel. "We just should have turned the other way. We went higher into the mountains. But how was I to know?"
"You didn't," consoled Colleen. Melody took the other girl in her arms and the two took comfort from each other.
"I wish I could hug you back," said Colleen. "But these handcuffs on my arms prevent that."
Finally Melody got out of the jeep to look around. She flashed on the headlight for a second but that didn't help much. All she could see were trees and a short bit of dirt road.
"I think we should get away from the jeep," she finally said. "In the morning the jeep will be easy to spot. Helen is rich enough, I wouldn't put it passed her to have helicopters out searching for us."
They searched the jeep but found nothing useful--like handcuff keys or hack saws. So they began a slow shuffle away from the jeep and into the darkness of the forest. With both of them having chained feet, the going was rather slow. After a while, Melody suggested that they rest. They found a flat place and huddled together with Melody's arms around Colleen. A blanket would have been nice but escaping slavegirls are often not allowed luxuries. They were still huddled together, gaining some comfort from the contact of their bodies, when the eastern sky began to lighten.
Tom watched carefully as activity burst into life on the ranch. Something big was happening and he had a feeling it was related to that jeep he had seen leaving in a hurry. He wished he had been close enough to see who was in it.
Being careful to stay concealed, he crept closer to the buildings but didn't really have anything to fear, all those below were too busy to bother looking into the grass. It didn't take him long to discover from bits of conversations and shouted orders that two slavegirls had escaped. And it was immediately obvious that one of them was Melody'. He overheard a heated argument between Helen and Roger about how either of the slavegirls had been able to free themselves. Helen was not very happy, blaming Roger for inefficiently securing the girls. He, on the other hand, retorted that he had only fixed them as she had ordered, using the same straps and bar that had always been used.
Tom crawled away from the ranch wondering what to do now. Melody had escaped! Perhaps the best thing for him to do would be to go back home and await her triumphant return. He'd kid her some about it taking so long for her to escape, but he would certainly be glad to see her!
* * *
The dawn revealed nothing but trees, hillsides and the road they had driven up during the night. And the naked girls discovered that they could cover very little territory with their ankles shackled. They were surprised to find that they were only a hundred yards from the jeep abandoned a few hours before. That, and the fact that it hurt those ankles when they tried to hurry, the constant rubbing and snubbing of metal against the skin was not pleasant.
"What do we do now?" asked Colleen, stretching in the first sunlight to peek through the pine trees. She arched her body and tried to move her arms a bit to loosen the stiffness but the handcuffs on both her wrists and elbows hampered her efforts. "I'm hungry."
"So am I," confessed Melody, surveying the forest. "Let's face it, we're worse off than we were before. At least back at the ranch we would be given regular meals and have nice, warm straw to sleep in. So what if we sometimes have to hang by our thumbs?"
Melody looked sternly at her fellow slavegirl.
"Okay," said Colleen. "Maybe it really wasn't all that good...."
"It was terrible. They tortured us. Helen loves to hurt women. Hadn't you noticed that?"
"Yeah... I noticed."
"Well, then let's not talk about the good old days back as prisoners of that sadist Helen. Let's try to figure out which way to go."
"Towards the nearest restaurant...?" suggested Colleen with a meek smile.
"Funny." Melody looked around. Going up the hill would not only be more taxing on shackled girls, but the ground was covered with rocks and pine needles that had a tendency to occasionally stick into the bottom of a naked foot. Down hill would be easier but there was nothing in sight as a goal. The road was still visible. One end moved off to their left, the other back the direction they had come.
"If you think it was much better to be Helen's prisoner, then we could shuffle back that way until they find us," said Melody limply.
Colleen looked back that way for a minute then replied, "Naaaaahhhh. No way. Never."
"Then we follow the road that way?"
"Why not. At least it will be easier walking along the road than cross country." Colleen sighed. "I hope we meet someone pretty soon. I could sure use a dress and a meal, not in that order."
"You've only missed breakfast, and not by much," pointed out Melody as she began taking very short steps.
"Well, I like breakfast," Colleen pouted sweetly. Melody had to smile back at her. She was beginning to really like this redhead teenager.
It was not easy going. The sun grew hotter, the girls grew more hungry and thirsty, and the road seemed endless. Birds chirped at them from trees and squirrels scampered up to rocks to sit up and look at the strange sight of two naked and chained human females struggling to walk.
"Squirrel stew would be nice," commented Colleen. "My grandmother used to talk about making that back in Arkansas. Grandpa would take his squirrel rifle out and shoot a few then Grandma would have to skin them and cook them. Never tried that, myself, but she said it was powerful good.
"My uncle used to make this shrimp scampi that was the most wonderful dinner. There was garlic and herbs and wine sauce, and white rice that he would serve with it. "
"Will you shut up!" Melody proclaimed but with a smile.
"Well, I was just telling you about what my grandma liked and Uncle Willy. My father's favorite meal was a good steak, barbecued and served with baked potato...." It continued like that all morning. Melody ceased her protests, at least Colleen's complaining about hunger and vivid descriptions of past meals helped take their minds off the difficulty of walking with shackled ankles and the likelihood that they would starve to death out in the wilderness.
At noon they hid from the hot sun under the sheltering arms of a friendly tree. Melody could tell that those handcuffs on her arms were bothering Colleen, especially the pair locking her elbows together, and she wished she could do something about it. They were both tired and had very badly chaffed ankles. And hunger was beginning to become a real concern, not just the topic of discussion. Melody doubted that they had traveled even a quarter of a mile, so slow was their shuffling steps on chained ankles.
Colleen was trying to get comfortable against the tree when Melody took her in her arms to comfort the teenager. Without even thinking about it, her lips sought and found those of the redhead, and the kiss was eagerly returned. Suddenly a fire was lit in both their bodies, a fire neither that realized was there. Colleen could do little with her arms locked behind her, but Melody didn't mind being the more active one. Her fingers teased Colleen's nipples until they were hard with lust, all the while their tongues exploring each other in a passionate kiss that lasted a long, long time. When their lips broke apart, both girls were panting and knew what would happen next.
They lay side by side, Melody with her arms wrapped around Colleen's hips and her legs spread as much as the handcuffs on her ankles allowed in order for Colleen's head to press between her legs. Quickly they were both licking and tonguing each other's pussies like the hungry vixens they were, curled up in a classic "69" position.
Their orgasms were hurried and almost simultaneous. Both naked female bodies shuddered and trembled with a wonderful feeling as only women can have. Afterwards they lay together, Melody's arms around Colleen protectively cuddling her friend. They fell asleep that way in the shade of a friendly tree.
* * *
Pacing his home, Tom was restless. He knew that it was too early to expect Melody to make her way home, but he had hoped. When last seen, she had been driving a jeep and could easily have beaten him home. He assumed that the delay was due to the need for her to find clothing before she could drive a jeep on well-traveled highways.
As he wandered aimlessly through the well-equipped dungeon they had built in the basement, he wondered if perhaps he should be out looking for her. It was possible she was still up in the mountains, a hundred miles away, trying to figure out some way to get clothes. It was also possible, he told himself, that she was taking home that other slavegirl girl who escaped with her. Colleen was the name he had overheard at the Circle H. But, in that case, why hadn't she at least called? She was as aware as he that their agreed upon time limit had long since passed, and that he would be worried about her. She should have called.
Idly he fingered a piece of rope and waited for the sound of his love coming through the door.
* * *
It was a rude awakening. "Well, what have we here...." came a man's voice intruding into their pleasant dreams.
Melody and Colleen blinked their eyes and beheld the image of a man standing over them, the reins to a horse in his hand and a smile on his face. Melody gasped. It was Norman Butler.
CHAPTER ELEVEN - RETURN TO SLAVERY
Both naked slavegirls stood in the afternoon sun while their new captor inspected them and the metal holding them prisoners. Norman seemed to find it amusing that they had managed to escape so far with both having their ankles shackled.
"It wasn't hard to find you," he said casually. "Helen and Roger called me in the middle of the night, telling a horrible tale of two escaped slavegirls and enlisting my help in finding them. They figured that you two would be traveling towards the nearest town and that's the way they headed. I figured that perhaps you didn't know which way was the nearest police station and might have turned the wrong way." He shook the steel bracelets on Colleen's wrists to confirm that they were still snug.
"I figured that you would run out of gas eventually 'cause there ain't nothing up this way but mountains and more mountains. And when that happened, you'd abandon the jeep and take to the hills. I didn't know that you had your ankles chained together. So I brought my horse, Thunder, along in a trailer. When I found the jeep, I took to Thunder, figuring that you two would be taking off into the tree. Imagine my surprise at finding you next to the road!"
"I guess we made it easy for you," said Colleen.
"That you did, lass." He guffawed at the look of utter dejection on their faces. "That you did. But what to do now?" Melody looked up from the ground to plead, "If you take us back to my house, I'll see that you get a big reward. We have the money."
"I'm sure that you do. It was some guy named... ah, Tom, I believe. The two of your got a great deal of money from Helen and some others, if what Helen tells me is correct. I've sure you have money. But that's not what I'm interested in. I have plenty of money, myself, and don't really need more.
And we just couldn't have you two running around free. You might promise not to tell the police but that promise might well wear thin as time passes, if you even meant it in the first place. No, freedom is not for you."
He looked around as if scanning the sky for something. "Helen's rented a helicopter," he informed, "and is searching for you. Sooner or later they'll head up this way. Should I use the car phone to call them and turn you two over to them? Or should I keep you two for myself? Never actually kept a slavegirl full time, let alone two, but it's an attractive idea."
He patted Melody's breast. "A very attractive idea," he repeated. "But I'm not sure I want the hassle of having to worry about you two escaping. Plus I wouldn't want Helen to find out that I kept her two slavegirls when I caught them. She would expect me to turn over her property, that would be the right thing to do.
"Of course," he mused with one hand stroking his chin, "Helen might be so grateful that she would give one of you to me. Hmmmmm...." He considered that possibility for a while. "Or maybe not. Helen's very possessive of her girls. The best I've ever gotten out of her is the loan for twenty-four hours. No, I don't think she would give one of you to me. Especially since you're both such good lookers."
For a while he actually didn't seem to know what to do with two naked and chained females. The final decision was not what they wanted to hear, but then, there was little this man could tell them that they did want to hear. "I'll take you back to Helen," he concluded. "And ask her for the regular loan of you two. Twenty-four hours at a time is fine. Perhaps one day a week. That way I'll get one of you one week, and the other the next week. She probably won't mind giving each of you up only one day each two weeks."
With a grin he mounted his horse. "I'll go get my truck and trailer. Don't go far." Then he rode away.
Melody and Colleen looked at each other. They could walk away, he had not added any additional restraints to their chains. But they both knew that they couldn't get very far at all. With a mutual sigh, they resigned to just standing there until he returned.
The truck stopped near them and Norman came briskly up to them. In his hands was a length of rope.
"Honey, Helen says she's very glad to hear that you're back in our loving care. She's coming. Did ask, though, that I make sure both of you are well tied. I told her about the handcuffs on you two and she laughed. But I think that your hands shouldn't be free."
Melody's arms were bound behind her back, elbows together rather tightly. She sighed inwardly and resigned herself to whatever terrible fate awaited her back at the Circle H.
The sound of the helicopter could be heard for a while before it came into sight. With a flurry of dust and pine needles, it landed close by. Helen bounced out and hurried up to her slavegirls. She seemed very happy to see them, but Melody assumed that was merely relief at knowing they hadn't made it to the authorities.
"That wasn't very nice of you two to run away," she said as if mildly scolding a naughty child. "You two will have to be punished, you know."
Neither of them answered their owner. Silence was very probably the best policy. Some terrible punishment was sure to come, no use making it worse with a hasty word.
"Bring them over to the helicopter," she ordered then turned without pausing to see if Norman would obey. He, in turn, told them to walk over to the helicopter, then turned to put his horse back in the trailer. Obediently, the two nude girls who had been happy in relative freedom a short time before, shuffled towards fresh captivity.
At the helicopter Helen held a tiny key in her hand. She knelt to unlock the handcuffs from Melody's ankles and then the leg irons from Colleen's. First she placed Colleen on the seat so she could easily reach those ankles to apply fresh restraints. Ropes replaced steel cuffs, tied tightly and with little regard for badly chaffed skin. A length of rope from those ankles trailed off into the dirt. Helen put Colleen back on her feet, then bound Melody's feet in the same manner. What made Melody gasp was when Helen knelt to tie the rope trailing from their ankles to the landing skid of the helicopter. "No... Please don't...." begged Colleen.
When Helen had both girl bound to the helicopter by their ankles, she smiled at them and returned to the passenger seat. Melody could see Roger grinning at them from the pilot's seat. He waved at Melody then the blades of the helicopter sped up. As the dust rose around them, Melody felt a terrible fear in the pit of her stomach. Quickly she lower herself to the ground. "Get down," she yelled at Colleen. "Or you'll fall when your feet are pulled up."
It was good advise which Colleen only barely managed to follow. The helicopter rose slowly and would have pulled their feet out from under them. The rope tightened and both girls felt their legs rising. With eyes closed, they didn't see what was happening but it was easy to tell. Their hips lifted, then they were resting on the shoulders and head. Then they were completely off the ground.
Melody opened her eyes. She didn't want to look but something made her. The dust had been left behind and the air was now clear. Twenty feet below she could see the ground receding rapidly. In less than half a minute they were a hundred feet above the tree tops, moving along at the speed of a car on a paved road. Melody's body twisted this way and that as the winds pushed her. Only a couple feet away, she could see Colleen's body also twisting, sometimes her lovely breasts presented, sometimes the handcuffed arms. Colleen kept her eyes tight shut, Melody noted, wishing that she had done the same.
It was scary, being suspended by your ankles like this. Far different from the times Tom had hung her upside down in their basement dungeon. With heart pounding and fear making her tremble, she endured and even had the presence of mind to note what a wonderful rush this created. Sort of like skydiving or bungee jumping, she figured. But different. A passing thought made her wonder if this could become a thrill sport. Then the idea of dozens of naked woman soaring through the sky at the end of ropes below helicopters, each tightly bound up and helpless, almost made her laugh.
I'm loosing it, she told herself. This can't be happening to me.
The trip wasn't long, and it traversed wooded land and foothills devoid of habitation. Then they were hovering over the Circle H, slowly descending into the stable area. Two ranch hands, probably alerted by the radio, were waiting to take the girls in their arms and cut the ropes from the landing skids. Then the helicopter landed behind the bam.
"Take them into the bam," order Helen as soon as she reached the spot where the slavegirls stood trembling after their flight.
In the bam each girl was again hung upside down from a beam, perhaps less frightening than hanging under the helicopter but still uncomfortable. In addition to being hung by the ankles, Helen ordered that a noose be put around each girl's neck and a heavy cement block tied to that. The blocks were on the floor but the ropes to the necks tight enough so that neither girl wanted to pull. There was little chance that they could lift the blocks, and such action would tighten the rope around their neck until they couldn't breath. It was an effective way of assuring that struggles were kept to a minimum.
"I'm going to have a cup of coffee," said Helen. "It's been a long night and day, thanks to you. And I'll think about what punishment would be right for two slavegirls who stole a jeep and escaped my protective and benevolent custody. Whatever I think of won't be nice, I can promise you."
Then she was gone, leaving two naked girls hanging by their ankles and feeling pretty miserable, Melody struggled with the ropes on her arms but gave up. The movement made the rope tighten on her throat. She noted that Colleen didn't try to struggle at all. But then she had been wearing those handcuffs on her arms for a long time and knew that they weren't coming off without a key.
"What will she do to us?" asked Colleen. "And when will we get to eat?" she added as an afterthought.
"I don't know. Hanging by our thumbs seems somewhat tame. Whipping? Helen certainly loves to whip a girl. The first day she owned me, she whipped my whole body until I was in terrible pain. And for no reason. My guess is that she'll whip us."
"I think she'll tie us under that helicopter and fly us all over the country side. I thought I'd die, it was so scary. I almost peed in my pants. Except that I didn't have any pants. And not much water, either. Wonder when we'll get a drink."
Melody sighed. She was coming to love this wacky redhead but there were times when she was a little too much. "I'm sure we'll find out before too long," she added.
Melody was right about Helen returning before too long, but wrong about their punishment coming that soon.
"I'm not going to punish you two until tomorrow," she informed. "I'll let you have the night to think about it. And what, you ask, will be your punishment? Well, I'll tell you.
One of you will be bound spread-eagle and have her breasts and cunt whipped until she's cut to pieces. The other will simply be forced to watch. Have fun thinking about which of you will get the whipping of her life and which will be comfortably seated nearby watching."
A little while after Helen's announcement, Roger came in and lowered the girls from their suspension. He even took the handcuffs from Colleen's arms, leaving red marks where the metal had been chaffing the skin.
But her freedom was very short-lived. Her arms were gathered behind her and bound with rope the same as Melody's, elbows tightly together. He took additional rope and bound the knees of both girls. He carried them outside and showered each in cold water to get the dust and grim off them.
Back in the bam, they were allowed to kneel on the concrete floor and eat a simple supper, doggie style. And to drink from dishes of water. Then he carried them, one at a time, into another room of the bam they had never seen before where he fixed them for the night.
It was perhaps a reaction to their escaping from what should have been escape-proof restraints, but they were both restrained for the night in what could only be described as "overkill." The night before, Colleen had been chained with handcuffs and positioned with her arms pulled up behind her. She should not have been able to get out of that. Melody was hanging by her thumbs. She should not have been able to get out of that. She should not have been able to move without causing a great deal of pain in her thumbs.
The room they were in had plain, featureless walls and concrete floor. There were a couple of hoists in the ceiling and nothing else. Except for the tiny iron-barred cages hanging from those hoists, Roger lowered the cages to the floor and unlocked the padlocks to allow the sides to swing open.
The ropes were left on them. Ball gags were added to assure silence. Then both were shoved into the small cages, a job none too easy for Roger. Only by bending double into a small ball could each girl fit, and that tightened the ropes on them. With legs bent double, the ropes above their knees dug in.
And those ropes binding their elbows cut in deeper as their backs bend over. As if designed for them, each cage was barely large enough to fit the girl destined for it. When the side was swung closed and locked, both of them would have been total prisoners just from the cage. The ropes were redundant.
Roger touched a button and each cage was lifted up to hang just below the ceiling. For a few seconds he stood by the door, looking at the two miserable packages of girl. Then he smiled and left.
The thick door closed behind them. Both had seen the massive padlock on the outside and knew that they could never escape the room even if free of ropes and cages. Then the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness.
It was not pleasant. Each of them was very uncomfortable from the tight ropes and bend doubled position. And each knew that they would be in pain before morning. The human female body simply wasn't meant to be so treated. It protested and hurt a lot.
Melody could feel the cage sway a bit. Being unable to move, she couldn't make it swing even if she had some reason do want to. She could hear Colleen's breathing from nearby and wished she could talk to her friend. But grunting was all they could do. A little later, long before they grew so fatigued that the fell asleep even under those conditions, they did grunt at each other. It was simply a way of saying, "I here," but it was appreciated.
Melody felt a love for Colleen, for Tom, and a great sadness that she would never see her lover again, and probably never be able to hold this lovely teenager in her arms again. She found it exciting to be tied up next to Colleen, to touch her wonderful body, and to kiss those delightful lips. Their brief lovemaking had been wonderful and she ached to repeat it. And during their walk in the forest, they had talked a lot. And it became clear that Colleen, although hating her captivity under the harsh rule of Helen, also loved the helpless feeling from being tied up. But only by someone she loved and trusted. She openly admitted that she would love to have Melody bind her and play with her. And maybe a man if she really liked him.
Melody wished that they might some day have the chance to explore these feelings for each other and their common love of being helpless.
But slavegirls do not get their wishes. The night was long and painful. In the morning they were taken to the place where one of them would be severely whipped while the other watched.
CHAPTER TWELVE - WHIPPING!
The morning sun shown down upon a strange procession. A man walked stately and slowly along a paved path, holding one end of a rope in his hand. The rope curved down then up to encircle the neck of a lovely young woman, and from there to curve down and up again to encircle the next of a second even younger but just as beautiful girl. Both those girls were naked, their arms cruelly bound behind their backs, and their ankles joined by silvery leg irons which allowed them only small steps. Behind them came their owner, a mistress dressed in black leather from the shinning boots on her feet up to the collar of her catsuit buckled around her neck. A black riding crop swished back and forth as her arm swung with each step.
But it was not the riding crop that these two naked slavegirls feared, nor that their owner intended to use. A whipping had been promised to one of them, a real whipping, not a cropping that would hurt but not deliver the real pain of a wicked leather thong cutting into girl flesh. Both girls felt their hearts beating too fast and their mouths were dry. After a miserable night spent in escape-proof cages and tight bondage, they should have been glad to be able to walk, even if only a shuffle. But they were not. The terrible threat of pain beyond believing hung over their heads, taunted them with each step taken toward the place where pain would be delivered to one. Melody had been seriously whipped only once, that being right after Helen had purchased her from Tom. And that whipping had left a terrible impression on her young mind, and a strong desire to never experience such pain again. Colleen had been whipped before, Melody was sure. Helen made it a point to whip each of her slavegirls as soon as she got her hands on them as a lesson in what is was to be a slavegirl. Neither girl wanted to taste of such pain again. Yet, each girl did not wish her friend to taste of it, either. The one who would be forced to watch as her friend withered under the lash would suffer, too.
A clearing among the trees not far from the bam held two posts set solidly in the ground. Separated by four feet of space, these posts were round, wooden and at least eight feet tall. The only adornment was four metal rings set into the wood, two to a post, facing each other and one near the top, one near the bottom. And a whip draped over one of the rings, a large, wicked looking whip of braided black leather. The sight of those poles, their evil purpose, and that whip made Melody's legs go weak.
Roger halted at the poles and turned to remove the rope leash from two frightened girls. Helen walked around her posts, inspecting them as if to assure that they were ready for their task. Then she turned to the girls with a smile of pure evil on her face.
"Well, which is it to be?" she said. "Do I hear any volunteers? No? Well, I'll have to decide." With a grin she took a coin from under the belt of her suit and showed it to the girls. Melody wanted to swallow but her mouth was too dry. "Heads Melody, tails Colleen." She flipped the coin high into the morning sunlight.
It landed on the dirt, head upwards. Melody gasped and involuntarily took a step backwards. Roger's hands on her shoulders stopped her.
"Well, well, it's to be newest pony," smiled Helen as she removed the whip from its post. "Roger, if you please."
The leg irons were removed and in that brief few seconds of freedom Melody considered running. She was already to be punished for escaping, what more could they do? Just as her mind was telling her that there might be worse than a whipping, Roger's hand upon her arm removed the temptation. He guided her to the space between the posts and pushed her down to the ground. Ropes appeared from his pockets, stout nylon cords with a loop tied in one end of each. He made a sliding loop from the loop at one end and slipped it over her left ankle. The other end of the rope was passed through the top ring of the post on that side, and Melody almost fainted.
"Not upside down," she gasped. "Oh, please, not that way!"
"Shut up!" commanded Helen. 'Talking earns you extra strokes, don't you know."
Melody bit back the fear and pleas. It was all so helpless, so unfair.
That rope was pulled and her left leg rose until her hip on that side was lifted from the ground. Then another rope looped her right ankle and the same was done, leaving her with her hips off the ground, resting on her bound arms. Then Roger went back to the first rope and tugged some more. Her left foot rose higher. The rope was knotted and the strong man went to the other rope. Each in turn was pulled until Melody's body was completely off the ground, suspended by wide spread legs that were almost touching the rings.
Only then did he untie the ropes binding her arms. Having been bound all night and morning, the arms were stiff and hung limp down until the hands rested on the dirt. But their freedom was short-lived for Roger produced another length of rope with a slip loop at the end and ensnared one wrist then bound it towards one of the bottom rings. Quickly both of Melody's arms were spread and pulled tautly towards the bottom of the post in an inverted spread-eagle. The position itself was very uncomfortable but that was of little concern compared to the fear of what was going to happen. Her wide spread and vulnerable sex was far too tempting a target, and she knew in her heart that the whipping of that most sensitive and private place was the whole purpose of this form of restraint. Melody was breathing heavily and her eyes were wide with fear.
From her inverted position, Melody could see Helen as she flexed the whip in her hands, and the evil smile on her face. This was a woman who loved hurting other women, loved it very much. The naked girl spread so obscenely wide open wanted to shrivel up and go away.
Helen glanced to one side and Melody's eyes automatically followed her gaze to see Colleen, with arms still bound and ankles shackled being forced to kneel only a body's length away to face the punishment of her friend. Roger stood over her, one hand on her shoulder.
Without warning, Helen's arms swept back and they forward. A swishing sound for a fraction of as second then a crack as the leather thong at the end of the whip snapped against girl flesh. "Ohhhhhhh!" cried Melody, in both surprise and pain. The first stroke had kissed her bottom with fire.
The next half dozen strokes crisscrossed the soft flesh of her bottom with scarlet lines, each exploding in a ball of pain that quickly shot throughout her body. The hanging body jerked and arched wildly but escape from the agony was impossible. Each stroke was greeted with a loud gasp or cry, all short of screams, but all present knew that it was only a matter of time before the screams would begin for real.
The flesh of her bottom was becoming a multi-colored patchwork of weals and bruises. The skin remained unbroken but why was hard to explain. The leather thong cut viciously at the flesh and should have tom it to pieces, at least that was the way it felt to the suffering girl. In her mind flashed visions of the skin on her round bottom being cut to ragged ribbons.
Jerking and twisting at the ropes had loosened them slightly, and Helen paused while Roger unknotted and jerked tight all the ropes again. Melody was stretched even tighter than before.
During that short pause Helen walked around her slavegirl, then, when Roger had returned to Colleen, delivered a vicious slash across one breast that brought the first real scream of the day, followed by pleas. "No! No! No! Please, no more!" The whip again lashed out to mark the other breast on its side. "Arrrrgggghhh!" cried Melody.
Colleen cringed and would have turned her head but a strong male hand held the back of it and forced her to look.
She would have closed her eyes but for some strange fascination with the terrible scene before them. She felt as if she had to look, knowing that, but for the mere toss of a coin, it would be her suffering between those two posts.
Slowly, methodically, carefully the sadist owner of slavegirls marked the body of this beautiful young woman, each stroke expertly placed to bring forth a maximum of pain. And she reveled in the sight of naked girl flesh withering and trembling before her. This was pure ecstasy, pure pleasure, wonderfully heady stuff. Her whole body was alive, tingling with pleasure and excitement. This was what made life worth living.
Those lovely breasts were marked up very well, thin lines in red and blue and black crisscrossing their smooth surface, leaving a history of pain upon the flesh. Cries and moans gave testimony to the agony within this hanging nudity, with extra loud screams when the deadly tip of the whip kissed a nipple.
Colleen knelt on the dirt unmindful of the discomfort in her knees and arms as she cried for her friend, tears creeping down her cheeks.
Planting her feet firmly apart, Helen positioned herself directly before the naked slavegirl and waited. Eventually Melody looked up with teary eyes. For a brief second their eyes met, then Melody's widened. "No, no, no...." she whispered. Helen's arms swung and the whip descended directly down upon the upturned pussy.
The scream that echoed in the trees was something to tug at the heart. The thong had landed squarely on the sex, the tip just beyond the opening to her vagina. And the first scream of shock was followed by another as the pain radiated outward from the tortured sex. "No, no, no!" came her loud pleas. "No, stop! Stop! I'm dying."
With deliberate care and slowness, the whip ascended to again cut downward. Again the helpless girl screamed.
Melody thought she would die. Her mind raced to find words that would make this horrible agony stop but none came to her lips. All she could do was plead instinctually for mercy.
There was no mercy. Time no longer had meaning to the tortured girl. The entire universe was reduced to a single black leather whip and the terrible pain consuming her body. She might have be pleading, crying or screaming, she hardly knew which. Horrible thoughts of mangled flesh and a sex so damaged as to be useless to her forever tormented her feverish mind.
It was right after the thirteenth stroke, or perhaps fourteenth, not even Helen was counting, that Melody fainted to hang limp in her bonds.
"Oh, what a pity," said Helen sarcastically. "Roger, would you get a bucket of water to bring her back around. It's no fun beating an unconscious slave."
Roger was about to obey when a servant girl rushed up. With hardly a glance at the naked girl in the obscene position, she whispered something in Helen's ear then hurried away.
"Secure that one," Helen told Roger. "I have an important phone call. Leave this one hanging. I'll get back to her later."
Roger checked the ropes binding Melody between the posts, then lifted Colleen to her feet. She was led from the clearing, glancing back over her shoulder with worried looks for her friend.
Melody was only vaguely aware of the cessation of the beating. A few minutes passed before she moaned and returned to a partial consciousness, then sobbed at the agony and fire in her loins, tears running up her forehead and into her hair. As time passed, the sobs lessened until moans became the only audio expression of the pain within.
A slight mid-morning breeze caressed her naked flesh, but could to put out the fire burning where ever the whip had kissed. Melody, with eyes closed, moaned and begged for release from the terrible strain of that position and from the pain. No one were there to hear her.
It was nearly an hour later when Roger returned to the little clearing in the woods to release Melody from her posts. The nudity hardly responded to the touch of his hands upon her body as he lowered her to the dirt, said nothing as he peeled the ropes from the flesh of her limbs where the pressure of her weight and jerking had embedded it, and did not open her eyes as he turned her over and tied her wrists crossed behind her back. He then turned her back over onto her bound arms and pushed her legs until they were spread wide. He then removed his pants and knelt between her legs, his male tool at rigid attention and ready for action.
Melody would have been surprised to know that her sex was moist, almost juicy, when his rod poked it's head into her love tunnel. Easily it slid in until he was buried deeply into the slavegirl. Melody moaned as he invaded her for it hurt to have that flesh touched. With slow, easy strokes so unlike the harsh, swift strokes of the thong, he excited her sex, stimulating her body into a state of arousal she would not have wanted nor thought possible. But flesh being flesh, and a girl's flesh being especially prone to betray her, the stimulation of his male organ inside her proved too much. Mixed with the pleasurable feeling were sharp pains and dull aches from the tortured flesh as his body shoved against where she had been whipped. Her bottom ground into the rough dirt, sending messages of pain up to her brain.
As her body responded and became more excited, he increased his pumping until this punished slavegirl was in the throws of an orgasm. She cried out and clamped her legs around his hips as wonderful and colorful skyrockets exploded in her head. Pain and pleasure intertwined until she could not tell them apart and did not care to.
His climax finished shortly after hers, and he shifted around to present his limb and wet tool to her mouth. Melody was no stranger to performing oral sex upon a man but never had Tom or any other man expected her to clean his tool after having sex. But she was not in much condition to care, and took the limp organ in her mouth. She tongued it and sucked it until it was clean all over. Then Roger regained his feet and pants.
Melody was helped to her feet by strong but not rough hands, and limped along back towards the stables and bam leaning on Roger's arm for support. As the leg irons and chain to the wall ring were being locked upon her ankles, she opened her eyes to really look at Roger. "Roger, she hurt me," was all Melody said.
Roger finished clicking the padlock, then tenderly touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "She does that," he said quietly. Then he was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - A BRIEF REST
The next day the whipped woman was allowed to spend time in her stall, recovering from the painful ordeal. Yet a part of her mind was thankful. Not for the pain delivered upon her body by Helen's whip, but that some kind of important phone call had come. Where it not for that interruption, which Roger told her about, she was sure Helen would have continued with the whipping, perhaps until Melody was indeed cut to pieces. Cold water would have been thrown on her to revive her when she fainted, and the whipping would have continued. Roger informed her that escape attempts were one thing that Helen hated and punished severely.
Melody did not see Colleen that day but heard the sounds of her being taken out of her cell for some kind of punishment, then returned late in the afternoon. After Roger had gone, she tried calling out to Colleen but was quickly told that she shouldn't. In order to talk, they would have to do so quite loudly and that would attract someone's attention. Then they would be punished. Slavegirls are not suppose to talk among themselves.
Very glad for the rest, Melody slept most of the day. At times while she lay awake on the straw, she cried a little. The memory of that terrible whip descending onto her flesh again and again was horribly fresh in her mind and refused to go away. It made her want escape even more than before, but that thought also brought a sense of hopelessness. If Tom were going to rescue her, he would have done it by now. It was very likely that he had not the slightest idea where she was. Helen had laughingly told her that Tom thought she was sold to some Arab and was half way around the world!
Escape would have to be up to her, and that wasn't a very bright prospect. She sighed and wept another silent tear onto the straw. Then she shifted position and endured the ache in her pussy. She remembered that Roger had used it after the whipping, a strange dream of pain and pleasure. But it hurt still and the ache would not go away. She was sure serious injury had been done to her personal place. Perhaps she would never be able to function as a woman again, she feared. Then an impossible seeming rescue by Tom would indeed be a bitter sweet triumph.
The next day saw her resting in her stall for the morning but Roger coming for her in the afternoon.
"Exercise," he said simply. "Got to keep the slave ponies in good shape."
"I'm in terrible shape," said Melody bitterly. "I'm all marked up."
"Those will fade."
"And my... my... thingie hurts still."
"You mean your pussy? Twat? Snatch? Cunt? Vagina, even? There are many words for it. But the hurt will go away."
"I don't think so," she said as he helped her to her feet.
"It will. There isn't any bleeding, is there? No torn and raged flesh?" She nodded. "See? Nothing but a little pain.
Your pussy will be okay."
"You used me right afterwards, didn't you?" she accused. "Damn right I did."
"Why?"
"Sex is nice. Fun. Exciting. Groovy."
"I mean, why right after I was terribly whipped. You knew my... pussy would hurt."
"Damn right, I knew." He stopped with the unlocking of her ankles to look her in the eye. "Honey, there is nothing in the world that will get a man excited and homy faster than seeing a woman whipped. Fact of life. You're one beautiful woman, no doubt about that. But seeing you hanging there and withering in pain... Well, that's a powerful aphrodisiac. I wanted you so bad it made my balls ache."
"So you just took me."
"You are a slavegirl," he reminded. "You had better get used to being sexually used by men and woman, as well as being punished often and usually for no reason. You're a slavegirl." And that says all that needs to be said, his tone implied.
She was being led out of the stables. As she passed Colleen's stall, she noticed that the teenage redhead was gone. "You're taking me for another whipping?"
"I said exercise, and exercise it will be. You'll walk around for a while. Your muscles are probably stiff, both from the whipping and not moving much yesterday. Really should have given you a work out yesterday."
As they walked along a path, Melody with her hands crossed and bound behind her but no other restraints upon her, she thought about what was happening right then. This man who prepared her for Helen's torments, and who ravished her whenever the feeling came upon him, was actually talking in a friendly manner to her. Was he beginning to like her? In more than a sexual manner, she meant. What could she do to gain more influence with him? An influence she hoped might lead to her eventual freedom?
"Roger," she said impulsively. "Roger, you've been nice to me. Oh, I know you tie me up and, well, used me. But you haven't been cruel, like my Mistress. I... Well, I would like to thank you."
Roger stopped and looked at her with one eyebrow slightly raised. Then he sighed. "You have to understand one thing, slavegirl." His emphasis on the last word was not lost on Melody. They were by no means equals. "I'm allowing you to talk casually, even ask questions that you shouldn't. You had better know that you can't talk this way with Helen, or anyone else who is more into the Master/slave thing. Understand?" Melody nodded. "Good. Don't ever forget you're a slavegirl. Now, what did you have in mind about a thank you?" He smiled.
Melody lowered herself to her knees so that her face was level with his belt and only a few inches away from the front of his pants. "Unzip your pants and I'll show you."
"Let's get a little privacy first," he said, then guided her back to her feet and off the path. Not far away was a small grassy area behind some trees and out of sight of the habitations. There he unzipped his pants. A fine male rod sprang into view, already hard at the thought of soft female lips around it. Melody knelt before him and placed her mouth around the shaft.
Being no stranger to oral sex on a man, Melody used her lips, tongue and whole mouth to excite and pleasure him. She worked slowly at first then built up the speed and depth which she took his tool into her mouth, fully expecting that he would climax from this attention.
But his staying power was quite superior to most men and, under loving attention that would have had most men popping their corks, he merely sighed and stayed rock hard. But after a few minutes he gently pushed her head away. Puzzled, Melody watched as he removed his pants. Then he lay down on the grass, his rigid rod sticking straight up. He motioned for her to straddle his hips.
Uncertain that she wanted a male rod inside her aching pussy, she nevertheless crawled over until she was kneeling over him. He guided his tool into her sex and she sank down, feeling the shaft impale her surprisingly wet sex. It felt good. As with the rape right after the whipping, some parts of her flesh pained her when they came in contact with his, but not nearly as bad. And that strange pain even seemed to add to the excitement as she worked up to a respectable state of arousal. Soon she was pumping her hips up and down on his shaft, making it slide in and out in a manner most pleasurable to both of them. It mattered little that her hands were bound behind her back, she could do all she needed with her legs.
All good things come to an end. With a little, "Oh, lordy!" Roger came, spurting warm fluid into her. She could feel it happening and that was the final straw for her. "Oh, lordy, yes!" she exclaimed and high a very satisfactory orgasm of her own.
For a few minutes they lay side by side on the grass. Then, without being told to, Melody slide over and took his limp penis in her mouth to clean it of the mixture of his semen and her juices. It tasted good.
The rest of her exercise period was shortened, mostly because they had both had a good workout on the grass, he said. While they walked back towards the stable, Melody wondered if she had done any good with her little submissive and wanton act. It had been nice, she could not deny. But this was not Tom and she didn't really love him. In this place of pain and punishments, she was glad to have a little pleasure, and Roger had certainly delivered that. But she realized that she didn't love him and never would. She doubted that he could love her but hoped that she was wrong. Getting this man to have strong emotions for her might well be the only way to get away from a terrible mistress who loved to hurt her.
The next day she was back on Helen's list for punishments.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - SWEAT BOX
"I'm still not very happy about your escape," said Helen with a smile. Melody translated that to herself as an excuse for more punishment. When was Helen going to forget about that incident? It was only one little escape, after all.
"I am of the mind to whip you," she purred, "but those marks currently on your skin have only begun to fade.
Perhaps I'll whip Colleen. Later. Right now I think I would like to see you on your toes. Roger!"
The ever present and obedient Roger was instantly at her elbow. 'Take her and put her in the box. That ought to get her attention." With that imperial command, Helen turned on her high heels and left the stable area.
Melody rose to her feet as Roger unlocked the door. Feeling rested that morning, and not knowing if she should dread the "box" or not, Melody impulsively teased Roger with a question, "Want a little roll in the hay?"
Roger cocked one eyebrow and reminded her that such "uppity" sass from a slavegirl was certainly due cause for additional punishment. Melody backed off. "I only meant it to please you...." Roger unlocked her ankles but left her hands tied behind her back. This was the fourth day of her hands being crossed and bound behind her, and she was both getting used to it and hating it.
"What's the box?" she asked as he led her from the stall. "You'll see."
"Does it hurt?"
"You'll see."
"Will I be there all day?"
"You'll see."
"Well... Do you like it? I mean, seeing girls on it? Or in it, or whatever?"
Roger stopped. "It's not painful," he informed, "but it is a terrible inconvenience. And I feel little either way about it.
It's just a means of keeping a girl restrained and remembering that she's a slavegirl."
With that final word, he led her behind the large bam. Beside the wooden structure was a small cube made of black painted sheet metal. Roger unlocked the lid and opened it. Melody could see that it was simply a metal box with a few air holes near the bottom. She looked at Roger who gestured with a hand as if inviting her to step within. She did with more than a little trepidation.
"What's the punishment?" she asked. "Is it just being confined in that small area? Or something else?"
"It is uncomfortable to be bent over and confined within steel walls," he said. "But it also gets rather hot when the sun hits it. I should say you'll find out in about an hour."
"Sort of like a sweat box they used to use in some of those Southern prisons. I mean, to punish bad prisoners."
"The same principle. Now if you will be so kind as to squat down?"
Melody squatted down until her head was even with the top of the box. "You will find that you can sit down or kneel if you wiggled some. I would suggest that you keep your head down near the bottom," said Roger. "As the box heats up, the hot air collects near the top. The air is more breathable down near the bottom."
"I'm going to have to worry about breathing?" said Melody as the heavy steel lid closed over her and forced her head down. "Roger, this thing isn't dangerous, is it? Roger?"
There was no answer beyond the click of the padlock on the lid. Melody waited for a minute then pushed up with her head. The lid was on quite solidly. With a sigh, she shuffled her feet forward until she could lower her bottom to the steel floor of her little box. It really was quite small in there but, as Roger has said, she could wiggle around a bit. She figured she might be able to get back up on her feet and even kneel. She might be able to lay on her back if she didn't mind her legs doubled up over her.
Somehow this box, although actually larger than the iron barred cages that she and Colleen where locked inside of and hung in that small room the other night, was worse. The solid steel plates that it was constructed of seemed to press in on her, made the experience more claustrophobic. Technically she was less confined, had more freedom of movement than she had when tightly bound up and locked up in a cage almost exactly the same size as her doubled up body, but this made her feel more helpless. The iron barred cage was something that made her feel a nice kind of helpless, although most people wouldn't understand what she meant by that. She would have not minded if Tom had such a cage for her in their private dungeon/playroom. This steel box just made her feel uneasy.
It did, indeed, grow hotter as the day wore on, especially when the sun began to beat down directly on the black painted box. Melody felt the sweat forming on her body and slowly trickling down her sides. Sometime after noon she was quite uncomfortable and covered with sweat. She wiggled and squirmed until she was laying on her bound arms with her legs doubled up above her. That got her head down to the bottom where, as Roger had predicted, the air was a little cooler. Her legs weren't too comfortable but she had been in much worse positions. Her beloved Tom had often bound her up in positions much more uncomfortable and she loved it.
This she wasn't loving but the position wasn't too bad. What made this a punishment was the heat.
The afternoon passed in a haze of feverish thinking of water, water and more water. She imagined herself falling into a swimming pool of cool, blue water, of playing in a mountain stream of cold snow runoff, and of throwing herself spread eagle into a snow bank. All of which did nothing to ease her thirst. She pushed against the lid with her feet but it was quite solidly locked in place. It reminded her of a sauna, but the heat wasn't as dry and this sauna she couldn't walk out of.
Several times that afternoon she slipped into unconsciousness. The air seemed to be unbreathable, and felt as if it were searing her lungs. She turned her head to position her nose as near one of the holes as she could, but it gave little relief.
It was a limp, almost lifeless naked girl who was taken out of the box that evening. Roger carried her over to the usual place for showering down ponygirls and tied a rope around those on her wrists. Then he hoisted her arms up behind her until she could be left standing against the bam without falling. He then hosed her down with cold water.
It revived her as it washed the dirt and sweat from her lovely curves. "Roger," she moaned. "It was terrible. I thought I was going to die."
"Don't worry, most girls survive the box."
"Most girls?"
"Well, actually we haven't lost one yet, but I have seen a couple come out looking pretty bad."
Melody turned her head so she could drink of the cool water. "Roger," she began again when she had drunk her fill, "you said the box was just a way of keeping a girl restrained."
"And remembering that she is a slavegirl."
"I would call it serious punishment, not just restraint." Roger smiled a bit. "Around here, that is just restraint. You should see all of the punishments Helen dreams up."
"I have."
"No, you've only seen a few. There are things that can be done to a slavegirl far worse than anything that's been done to you. I've seen Helen brand a girl with the Circle H brand." He smiled at her. "That girl screamed very loudly, indeed."
Melody shut up. This conversation was not going in pleasant directions.
That night she had nightmares about being buried alive in a steel box with the walls pressing in on her. It was almost pleasant to awaken in the morning sunlight with only bound wrists and chained ankles.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - RESCUE!
It was two days later that two events occurred, both of which were of significant importance to our heroine, Melody. The first was that Tom was back in the grass, creeping like a snake towards the Circle H ranch, dressed in camouflage and armed with a pair of binoculars. After spending several days awaiting her arrival at home, and having decided that Melody must have been recaptured, he returned to confirm that fact and perhaps effect a new rescue. His fear was that Helen would either punish Melody for escaping or actually sell her to some other person. From what he had heard, there was a very real trade in captive girls among the super wealthy, and it was entirely possible that Helen might decide to get rid of Melody.
The second event was that Colleen decided to escape.
Again. Perhaps it was foolish of her, but the opportunity popped up and she dashed for it. Having witnessed the terrible whipping of Melody's open sex, she had no disillusions about what would happen to her were she caught again. It was only by the flip of a coin that she had avoided terrible punishment the last time.
But it was so tempting when she found that loose board in the back of her stall. Boredom is the constant companion of a slavegirl. Long hours are spent either locked in your cell, stall or whatever, or restrained in some manner to some device in some degrees of discomfort. The thought occurred to her the prior evening after dinner but before sleep claimed her for the night that perhaps she should check the wooden walls of her stall. She had, of course, checked them when she was first brought here, a natural part of searching for a means of escape. Then they were solid. But that had been months before and perhaps something had changed. Probably not, but it would give her something to do. A square stall with iron bars and straw on the floor is pretty boring.
The board gave a little when she pushed on it. Just a tiny bit but she detected it. The other boards were solid, only one near the bottom move. Bracing herself, she pushed with both feet against the board, first at one end and then at the other. It took a bit of work but the board gave a little bit more with each push. Suddenly, with a creak, it gave way and fell to the other side.
Amazed, Colleen hurried to her knees and bent down to look out. Her hands were secured behind her back with handcuffs, the usual for the Circle H, so it was a little awkward bending over, but she was anxious. In any event, she had to pursue this possibility--the missing board would certainly tell her captors that she had been trying to escape and that would certainly mean punishment. There was nothing through the hole, just darkness. Getting down on her stomach, Colleen stuck her head out. It was simply the side of the bam, dirt below her, and open freedom stretching out towards the hills.
Sucking in a breath to calm herself, Colleen wiggled sideways to try and fit her body through the slot now available. It was not easy for the missing board was smaller than her thickness. But the board above and below gave some, and she was willing to scrap her breasts and arms. Her breasts did get chaffed a bit, but she made it through. She scrambled to her feet, paused only a moment to assure herself that no one was watching, then dashed towards the trees. This time, she told herself, she would turn the other way at the road.
They found one of the slavegirls missing in the morning and a search was immediately begun. It was most unfortunate for the remaining slavegirl because Helen's anger at loosing Colleen was hard to contain. Being an easy target for the venting of anger is part of the job description for slavegirls, and Melody had to bear the brunt of Helen's displeasure.
It looked simple enough, just a small room in a bam seeming to contain many such rooms. There was simply a pipe secured to two walls and about four feet off the ground. That was all, just a half inch lead pipe. Oh, and a metal ring in the ceiling directly over the pipe. A stool was brought with the naked and bound slavegirl, and she was instructed to stand upon it. It was then that Melody began to see the terrible possibility inherent in that simple room and simple pipe.
Sure enough, she was made to put one leg over the pipe. Then her legs were bound together, tightly above the knees and at the ankles. Her arms had already been bound behind her back, the elbow together, before being brought to this simple little room. Helen personally tied a length of rope to the ropes already around her wrists and fed that through the overhead ring. When she pulled, Melody's arms rose behind her, eventually forcing her forward. When the hands were well above her head, Helen tied the rope to the rope around her elbows. That assured there was no way for her fingers to reach the knots.
With a gleeful chortle, Helen kicked the stool out from under Melody, dropping the slavegirl the last inch to the pipe. Since her weight was now totally upon a half inch pipe directly under her sex, it was not a comfortable perch. She cried out at the sudden pain in her crotch and from the jerk on her arms as her body fell. She looked over to Helen with pleading in her eyes but no words on her lips. She was sure there was nothing she could say that would change her fate. In fact, there was probably nothing she could say that wouldn't earn her extra punishment.
The door closed and Melody was shut in darkness with only the feelings of ropes upon her body and that harsh pipe digging into her most sensitive place. Her pussy had just ceased aching from her whipping, but this new torture was renewing the ache and pain. There was nothing the naked girl could do. The ropes binding her legs assured that she would not lift her legs off the pipe. Those ropes binding her arms and holding them so far above her head assured that she was not going to free herself. It was a very effective torment, just a little short of torture, and Melody knew she was in for a long, agony-filled day. The pain in her crotch, she was sure, would get worse. She wondered if the walls of this room were soundproofed for it was likely she would be screaming if this went on for too many hours.
It did go on for many hours. And she did scream. At first it was only moans and little whines that escaped her lips. But then she began calling out for mercy, hoping someone, perhaps Roger, would hear and help her. Then she was crying from the utter helplessness and hurt. There was a terrible ache in her pussy and fire in her shoulders. Finally she screamed, in anger and frustration rather than pure pain, but a scream nevertheless. Later there were more screams, very real screams of anger and frustration mixed with unbearable agony.
Melody never knew if anyone outside that simple room every heard her screams of agony. Perhaps the walls were soundproof and no one was directly aware of her suffering. Or perhaps they could hear it all and delighted in her suffering. It would be so much like Helen to enjoy the sounds of agony from her slavegirls.
And the darkness was an enemy, too. She had no idea of how long since she had been made to mount that pipe. It might have been hours, or even days. The pain messed up her mind, making wild thoughts flit about and torment her. Had they perhaps forgotten about her? Surely it was evening, so long had passed. How long could she last in this terrible position? Her pussy grew more numb as the sharp pains and shooting fire eased. Perhaps tortured nerves could only report their abuse to her brain for so long. But the ache was terrible by itself, and her shoulders and back still felt on fire.
When the came for her, she had been crying so long that no tears were shed. She gasped loudly as she was lifted by Roger off the pipe. It was like that metal beast had been deeply embedded into her flesh, and thousands of nerves awoke to scream their pain. Roger had to hold her on her feet, so unsteady were her legs.
"There's something I want you to see," said Helen, obviously in a better mood than that morning. Roger almost carried Melody to the far end of the bam. There Melody looked up to see a terrible sight.
She had been whipped. And she was hanging by her thumbs with feet well off the ground. Numerous red marks encircled Colleen's body, from just above her knees to the tops of her breasts. The breasts were covered with a grid of blue and purple and red marks, and her bottom hardly possessed a tiny patch of skin that was not bruised and swollen. Her head hung down, perhaps unconscious, the long red hair falling down in front to cover one nipple. The one that was visible looked swollen from some kind of abuse.
Melody wanted to cry but was emotionally numb from her own harsh treatment.
"See what happens to slaves who try to escape?" asked Helen. "They get punished. But you know that, don't you?"
Melody averted her eyes from both her mistress and the punished girl hanging before her.
"Don't you?" repeated Helen, a little louder.
"Yes, Mistress," was all Melody said.
"Good. Roger, take her to her stall. Make sure she's tightly chained. Don't want any more slaves escaping. Getting to be too much of a habit."
Melody was chained that night with twice the usual amount of shackles. In addition to the usual handcuffs on her wrists behind her back, there was a pair linking her elbows. Two pairs of handcuffs were locked upon her ankles, and the usual chain joining them to the ring in the wall was double locked. An additional length of chain was looped around her neck and padlocked there. The other end was locked to the same ring as her feet.
"Don't bother checking the boards," advised Roger. "I already checked each one carefully. And the ring's still solid in the wall. Goodnight."
"Roger...."
"Yes?"
"My... pussy aches terribly. Does that pipe do any permanent damage to a girl's pussy?"
"No. It will ache a little tomorrow but you'll be all right." Then he smiled at her. "I'll find some time to show you that your pussy still works, maybe tomorrow night."
"Thank you," Melody said.
Roger was gone and she settled down for the night.
After such a terrible day she was emotionally exhausted and sleep came quickly.
Late that night, with only the silent stars overhead to witness, a dark figure crept towards the stable.
Melody was awaken by a hand over her mouth. She struggled for a second until she heard a familiar voice whisper in her ear, "Quite. I'll get you out."
"Colleen!" Melody whispered back when the hand left. "What are you doing here? You were hanging by your thumbs in the bam."
"Our beloved Mistress Helen puts too much emphasis on hanging a girl by her thumbs. I waited until they had gone back to the house and to bed. Then I pulled you trick of lifting my legs over the bar. Look, I've got some keys. They were hanging on a peg by the front of the stable."
Melody could not see the keys in the dark but she heard them rattle gently as Colleen began trying them in the lock on the chain around her neck. It was the fifth key that worked. After that it was only a matter of time before all the locks fell to the keys in Colleen's hand. They left a pile of handcuffs and chains and locks on the straw.
"What do we do?" asked Melody as they stood in the stable door and looked out over the open area between there and the house. "You got away on foot and they caught you."
"I know. And they don't leave the keys in the jeep or cars anymore," replied Colleen. "I checked." For a minute she was silent. "I figure we have two choices. We can run for it, hoping to make our way across the woods and find some civilization. Or we can break into the house and use the telephone."
"The telephone! What a great idea!" Melody figured she wouldn't have thought of that. "I could call Tom and he'll come and get us."
"It will be dangerous," cautioned Colleen. "The house might have alarm systems. Hell, they may even lock the phones. Or someone might hear us."
"It's worth a try."
The two naked girls crept across the dirt up to the house. But when Colleen's hand touched the doorknob, she found it locked. A second door yielded the same result. "Shit!" whispered Colleen.
"Well, we'll have run for it," Melody said. "Heaven only knows what Helen would do to us for a third escape in almost as many days. And she probably won't hang us up by out thumbs again. She'll figure that one out after a second escape from it."
"I think there's a road that way. One time, while pulling her cart, I heard a car. Let's go."
Two naked and barefoot girls set off towards the low hills behind the Circle H, listening carefully for any signs of pursuit. But then a strange happened. At the top of the first mount, Melody stepped on something and an "Ouch!" came up from the ground.
Two startled girls watched as a man's shape rose from the grass. "You stepped on my hand!" it said.
'Tom!" cried Melody. Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him eagerly.
"Calm down girl. I take it you two escaped again?"
"Yes. Oh, Tom, I love you!"
"I love you, too. But could we express our undying affection in some more private place? And a warmer one, too? You don't know how cold it is laying half the night in grass."
"About as bad as hanging by your thumbs, naked in the night air," replied Melody.
"Huh?"
"I'll explain later. You have the car nearby?"
* * *
"So, you see, I was watching the house, about to swoop down and rescue you when all hell broke loose. I'll bet Helen was angry when you stole her jeep."
Tom sipped at his coffee. Across the breakfast nook table, Melody and Colleen held theirs in both hands and enjoyed both the smell, taste and warmth.
"She didn't like it one bit," said Melody. Both girls had ridden home with blankets wrapped around their nudity, but now wore bathrobes. Melody was especially happy to be back in their home, with her man stilling across from her. "Oh, Tom, I want you so bad. Let's go to the bedroom," she sighed. Then she sniffed, "Of course, I'm not sure my pussy will work too well." She explained about riding that lead pipe all day and the ache that still tormented her sexual area.
"Well...." Tom said. "Maybe what that Roger said is right and your pussy will work just fine."
"I guess we can only try and fine out, huh?" There was a merry twinkle in her eyes. Tom smiled at her, a warm, sincere smile from one lover to another.
"Want some more coffee?" he said as he saw Colleen finish her cup.
"That would be nice," she replied. The redhead hadn't spoken much during their trip, but when Tom was away from the table she leaned over to whisper in Melody's ear. "He's a real hunk! No wonder you love him so. You're so lucky!"
"I think so," agreed Melody. "If he wasn't already taken, I could go for him. And you say he's pretty good at tying a girl up?"
"The best. And he doesn't torture me. Oh, sometimes I get a little spanking, or even a very mild whipping. But nothing like Helen. And, of course, there are times when I'm tied up so tightly and in contorted positions that it is rather like punishment. And sometimes he keeps me tied up for days. But that's different from what we had at Helen's. He loves me. Anytime he ties me, I got so excited." Tom returned to the table with a fresh cup of coffee. "I will be his slavegirl forever. He can keep me tied up always, I don't mind."
Tom grinned. "I just might do that. Your ropes have missed you."
Melody smiled. "I missed them. Helen's ropes just aren't the same."
Colleen sighed. "You two sure are lucky. It must be wonderful to be so loved."
Melody turned to the teenager and bit her lip in deep concentration. Then she turned to Tom. "Tom, Colleen is a very nice girl and I've come to love her. We shared a lot, but it's more than that. We are very much alike in many ways. We both really do love being tied up. We both understand and want to be slavegirls. Not the kind that Helen wants, but to a loving Master. There is a world of difference." She paused to look deeply into his eyes. "Tom, could you... Would you... I mean, Colleen has no family. And I would like to have her around--you know, to tie up, and be tied up with. Would you mind?"
"Melody, I would love to have Colleen live with us. But you have to understand one thing, both of you. Melody is my true love, the girl I'll love for the rest of my life." He paused to let that sink in. "But that doesn't mean that there isn't enough room in my heart to love another too. It won't be the same kind of love as I have for Melody, but it would be real. Of course, you'll get tied up a lot, Melody does and loves it. I'm planning to put in a small paved path and get a sulky. Owning a pony girl sounds interesting. And I will have two trained ones to chose from. And you said something about tiny barred cages...."And you'll sometimes get punished. Not too seriously, but sometimes you'll do something wrong or I'll just be in the mood to punish you. And, of course, there will be the matter of sex...." He turned to Melody.
"Oh, Tom, that's okay! So long as I have your heart, I'm willing to share your penis with another girl."
They all grinned at that, and a wonderful feeling of warmth and love spread around that little group.
* * *
"Damn! Hell! SHIT!" Helen was angry. Helen was raging mad. Helen was not happy to find both slavegirls gone. She kicked a bucket across the stable. It bounced off the far wall and lay there quivering in fear.
"No sign of them?" she growled.
"Nothing," replied Roger calmly. "There were some tracks on that back road. Perhaps they were picked up. In any event, there is no sign of them for miles around."
"How the hell did they get loose? You had Melody chained up."
"Very well. You saw that the locks were all unlocked. It was the other one who got away."
"But she was hanging by her thumb! How could she get out of that!"
"I'm sure I don't know." Roger was trying hard not to smile. He suspected he knew but would rather let Helen figure it out for herself. And a part of him was glad that Melody had gotten away. He liked that beautiful creature. Of course there was a chance that Melody or Colleen might call in the police, but that was a risk they took when they kidnapped and keep girls as slaves. Then would remove all traces of shackles, ropes, cages, etc. If anyone came inspecting, they would find only a normal horse ranch. And Helen had enough money to bride most any official.
But she would give up her dominant habits. Helen would simply set up operations-someplace else.
"I'll get that slavegirl. She's mine!" Helen's face was flushed with anger. "No slave escapes from me!" Her grip on the riding crop in her hands tightened. Then her eyes grew hard. "I'll have her back. And then I'll make her wish she had never been born."
Melody lay beside her man in their huge bed, a contented and happy girl. Both were, of course, naked, and Melody's hands were bound behind her back, but it was a comfortable bondage and she didn't mind. In fact, she enjoyed it both for the exciting, helpless feeling it generated in her, and because it meant that she was once again the property of the man she loved.
Morning sunlight peeked through the blinds to illuminate the room with a golden glow. As she lay along side him, his arm protectively around her, she sighed with happiness. Life was very good. What more could she possibly desire?
Then the door slowly crept open. A form silently entered the room, paused just inside the door, looking at the two naked figures on the bed. Melody was looking up with astonishment on her face. Then, with a wild cry of delight, the figure leapt onto the bed.
"Colleen!" cried Melody.
And Colleen it was. The night before they had shown her to a guest bedroom and left her to rest after her ordeal at the hands of Helen. And she had been left unrestrained and wearing a pair of Tom's pajamas over that whip-marked body. But now that lovely redhead was naked, her arms locked tightly in handcuffs behind her back, both at the wrists and again just above the elbows, and she was swooping in on her target: Tom's half erect penis. She attacked it with her mouth, licking and sucking gently but with eagerness.
"Colleen, how did you get your arms handcuffed that way?" asked a puzzled but delighted Melody.
"Wasn't easy," said Colleen around her mouthful of rapidly swelling Tom.
Melody laughed and began kissing her freshly awaken man. Delighted to find two beautiful and bound females servicing him, he took Melody's head in his hands and kissed her back with passion. But even as he lay back, enjoying the sexual attentions of this delightful pair, he was planning the day's activities. And those activities included both of them being tightly bound up in many different ways and places around the house. He would sleep with Melody again that night but promised himself that Colleen would be tightly bound to the foot board of the bed where she would have to watch as he made long, slow love to Melody. That ought to make her frustrated as hell!