The Silver Spoon Set
Author's Note:This story will stand alone, but is built on characters, settings and situations from the story The Hotel.
A steel cabin, somewhere on a boat.
I woke up as usual, wondering where I was. Unfortunately, it only took a few seconds to remember. Jill was still asleep on the filthy rug that served for our bed. Like me, she was totally naked. The room smelled like a pigsty, I guess - I never saw one - but between the bucket that we were required to use as our bathroom and the vomit on the floor from Jill's dinner, it was overwhelming. We were in just a steel room, no bigger than my closet back home, and bare, except for us, the bucket and the rug. From the motion, it was obviously part of a ship. Going... where?
I got up and pee'ed in the bucket, stretched, then just sat back down cross legged. There wasn't anything else to do. I let Jill sleep - she needed it and while she was asleep, she wasn't seasick. The single bare bulb overhead slowly swung back and forth with the motion of the ship. I hugged my knees, and looked at my cell mate. She was a pretty woman, divorced and about thirty two years old. Like me, she came from an upscale family that supplied every possible thing that a person could want. She had been my friend since college, and lately an intimate friend as we began to explore... well, things that would have astonished our class circle.
We were here of our own accord, sort of, and really had nobody else to blame.
Chapter of the Beginning
Two years before...
I was at a coffee clutch with on old college friend, Susan. I hadn't seen her since a year before at a soiree in Miami. I remembered that, at the time, she was miserable and half floating on pills. Now, she was bright and perky, almost schoolgirlish. I decided that I needed to meet her analyst - he was obviously good.
Looking at her over my cup, I said, "Ok, Susan. The last time I saw you, I assumed that the next day's headlines would be of you floating in the ocean, face down, from an overdose. Now you act like you've discovered the lost weekend." I raised my eyebrows in question.
She smiled over her coffee. "Wellll, I decided to make a change in my life - and did."
"So you killed Jim and buried his body somewhere?" Jim was her SOB husband, exceeded in his asininity only by George - mine.
She laughed. "No, I just replaced him - metaphorically."
"Ok, where can I order a replacement for mine?" I asked, not entirely in jest.
She raised her eyebrows, looked around and said quietly, "It can be done." Hell, yes it can be done. It's done about a million times a day by bored, ignored wives.
"Just what I need - a lover." Not a bad idea, but full of problems - not the least of being divorced and chucked out onto the sidewalk. My college degree was in Renaissance Literature, just about the most worthless sheepskin in the world for landing a paying job.
"I didn't say a lover - I said a replacement."
"So, what does this... replacement do that Jim doesn't?" I asked.
"Well, in a nutshell, he straps me to a rack, whips the shit out of me while something is stuck up my ass, then fucks me and leaves me chained for the night."
Silence. I was shocked. Susan was an upscale woman, like myself and my friends. We all went to the same type of Ivy League colleges, got the same worthless degrees, and married the same kind of men. We were the girls that were born with the silver spoon in our mouths. Money was never a problem and we didn't even know what a recession was. Need a new outfit? - use one of the ten credit cards in our purse. Need a new pair of shoes? - get three or four pair - but hurry, our daylong spa treatment started in fifteen minutes. There was alway plenty more where that came from.
The men weren't always bastards. When we started as young couples, the world was our oyster. They were entry level executives, but destined for upper management because of their breeding and the good ole boy colleges they attended. Unlike their women, their education prepared them to take a chunk of the world for themselves. We traveled to foreign lands, dined at the best restaurants, met the other couples at resorts around the world, screwed on the beaches and verandas, and generally acted like the world was created for us.
But as time went on, the women were consigned to being show pieces for parties, company events and social activities. The wild sexual tempo wound down as the men got further up the ladder. Finally, it bottomed out as a once per week ritual, on the bed, in the dark, and only long enough to relieve the man of his seminal pressures. The men found more exciting sex, at out of town "conferences" with lots of high breasted teenyboppers available for use.
Finally, I said, "You're kidding, right?" I knew she wasn't, but I still couldn't believe it.
She laughed again. God, she was infuriatingly happy. It wasn't fair. "Nope. Haven't you ever had the fantasy of being taken by a man - a real man - and made to do things you wouldn't do voluntarily? I know you have." She waited while the waitress filled out cups again. "Well, I am. Made to do things, I mean. It isn't play - it's real and I love it."
We talked for another hour, then she left me with not only far too much caffeine in my system, but in total bemusement.
Late Friday night rolled around. In the way that older married couples have, my husband indicated that he desired sex that night. (Older? We're not older, for god's sake. We're barely out of our twenties!) I lay down and prepared to receive him in the usual way, and he climbed into bed. After his version of foreplay, which consisted of sucking my nipples for a few seconds, he knelt between my legs and entered me.
As he pumped away, I thought about my conversation with Susan earlier in the week. Did she really let a man tie her down and, well, have sex with her? How did that get started? Who was he? What was it like? As I thought about it, I slowly stretched my arms out toward the two upper bedposts and imagined them tied with rope. Then I gradually flattened my legs and spread them toward the other posts. I began to imagine that I was stretched out, tight, and a stranger was using my body for whatever he wanted.
Then I pulled an edge of the sheet to my face and bit down on a wad of it. What if I was gagged? I couldn't scream or protest - just lay there and take it. I closed my eyes. I was blindfolded, utterly helpless. Nothing but a toy for the unseen man using my body. Suddenly, I realized that he was finishing up, and rapidly reaching his climax. Afterward, he did his usual postplay - he rolled off of me, pulled the covers up and immediately went to sleep.
I suddenly realized that I was soaking wet and breathing hard, although I didn't have a orgasm - I never did with him, anyway. I quietly got up, went into the downstairs bathroom, and took a hot bath. While relaxing in the water, my hand went to my clitoris, and I began to imagine that I was restrained and being roughly used again...
Susan handed me a slip of paper with a phone number. She had refused to give me any details of her - whatever it was, deal, contract, agreement with the - well, whoever provided the service to her. All she would tell me, was to call that number.
That evening, I sat down at the phone and thought about what I was doing. What WAS I doing, anyway? Slowly, I dialed the number.
A few rings later then "Click. You have reached the number that was given to you by a friend or acquaintance to inquire about certain private services. At the tone, leave a phone number where you can be reached, along with a time and a date to call. Beep." I hung up.
For he next few days I thought about it, almost called, then backed away. "Hell," I finally told myself. "I'm not calling to make a date, all I'm doing is arranging to talk." I called back and left the information.
I was sitting by the phone on the appointed day and time. Of course, it was the middle of the morning and there was no chance of my husband being home, so the call had very little risk. At exactly the designated time, the phone rang. I jumped as though shocked, even though I was expecting the call.
"You have called to make an appointment to discuss certain services." A male voice. "What state and city are you in?" Taken somewhat aback by the abruptness, I gave him the information. "One moment, please." It was almost like I had called for a hotel reservation. "Ok, what date and time would you like to meet?"
"Tomorrow," I said, hesitantly. I frantically grasped for a time. "10 am."
"Drive your car to the SkyTrain passenger pickup. I will be the young man standing there wearing blue corduroy pants, a blue polo shirt, and a silver computer. Just pull up to me and wave me in. Agreed?" I said yes, and the phone went dead. Once again, I was sweating though my clothes.
Tomorrow, 9:59 am
There he was, just like he said. He WAS young. Not a teenager by any means, but younger than me. I pulled up to him, stopped and waved. He immediately opened the door and slid in. Immediately, he said, "Drive to the parking garage by the gate, one of the upper floors. It will be private and secure."
Just glancing out of my eye at him, on occasion, we drove to the sixth floor of the garage and I parked. Turning off the car, I nervously looked over at him. He was looking at me.
"Ma'am. I can tell that you are on edge about this meeting. First, let me say that you may tell me to leave at any time, and I will exit your car and you will never see me again." He paused. "Please relax. We are completely secure here. Far more than if we met in some secret hotel room somewhere." I nodded.
He continued. "Now you probably have an idea of the services that I provide from the person you got my contact number from. Many women don't really know what to ask me, but do you have any questions for me first?"
He was trying to put me at ease - I could tell that much. Why was I here? I wasn't sure that I knew. I started slowly. "According to my friend Su..."
He instantly waved me quiet. "No names, please! The first rule of my service is confidentiality - total secrecy. Continue..."
"...my friend, you have a place where... women are... restrained, and..." Again the wave to stop.
With a smile, he said, "Let me make this easier on you, Ma'am. First, I have a service that allows women to play out their desire to be dominated. The act is completely controlled by the client, that is, you. You may not know what you want, most beginning women don't."
"I'm one of them," I interjected. "I'm not even sure yet if I want to do this."
"Ma'am, this isn't like joining the Army. You can back out and quit at anytime. Don't worry about that part."
"How do we do this?" I asked. He spent some time explaining what his services consisted of, and how to use a computer to contact him. He gave me a little device to plug into my computer at home that would allow me to connect to his server, as he called it.
After a while, we left the garage, I dropped him off, and headed home.
The next day...
I waited till my husband was gone for an hour, then called his office. I asked for him, but his secretary said that he was in a meeting and did I want her to have him call me. I said, thank you, no. It wasn't important.
Now that I had firmly established that he was actually at the office, I turned on our home computer. I wasn't a computer person, but I could use one to surf and get email on occasion. Mr. whatever his name was, assured me that I would have to know nothing to get his little device to work. As soon as the computer was up, I plugged in the little gadget. Sure enough, up popped a window asking for a password. Opening my purse, I entered the number on the back of a business card, and pressed the return key. Shortly a warning message popped up that advised me to make sure that I was in a totally private location before continuing. Also, in big type was the instruction to locate the ESC key. In case of need, such as suddenly being surprised, press this key three times or more and the program would instantly shut down the computer. Ok, clear enough. I clicked the enter button with the mouse.
Suddenly I was immersed into the world of... What? B&D? Ah... Bondage and Discipline. I roamed the website for hours. There were descriptions of some of the routines, pictures of equipment with explanations of how they were used, pictures of dungeon rooms - lots and lots of pictures. Some were unbelievable. I tried to imagine myself standing in chains like a slave girl in the desert. I had goosebumps on my arms.
There was a form to fill out, listing the actions that a woman requested to have performed on her. And a place to make an appointment. One of the forms was for new clients - me, for instance - that gave multiple options that could be decided on when the time came.
Fascinated, I couldn't leave the computer until... Suddenly, I heard a door slam. Panicked, I jabbed at the power switch, then was about to crawl down to unplug the computer, then finally remembered the warning instructions at the start of the program and pressed the escape key several times. The computer instantly crashed, with a big blue screen and indecipherable text. In a wave of relief, I fell back into the chair as our maid walked in the room.
"Hello, Mrs. Harris," she greeted cheerfully. I croaked something back and left for my bedroom.
The next few days were... well, they are hard to describe. I thought about the things I had read and the pictures I had seen. I kept picturing myself strapped down to a bed and lashed. Or stretched out on a rack with a laughing torturer leaning on the ropes. Or on my knees begging for mercy as a man stood over me with a whip. The next time my husband heaved his out-of-shape body onto mine, I was a prisoner of a cruel pirate and he had me staked out and given to his men. I actually reached an orgasm simultaneously with my husband that time - the only occasion that it ever happened in our marriage. I had heard of the theory that imagination only stimulates men sexually, that women are mostly aroused with physical stimulation. I knew now that that theory was total bullshit, just to use a word that was taboo at my women's college.
I met my best friend, Jill, at our usual watering hole. Our gabfest started as usual, until she leaned back in her chair, looking at me quizzically. "What is up with you?"
"What do you mean," I asked, knowing full well the answer.
"I don't know. You seem... different, uh... more alive... I don't know. You just seem different, somehow."
I wanted off the subject. "Never mind me. How's your divorce coming along?"
"Puttt." she said. "Right now my lawyer is arguing with the SOB's lawyer - mainly so they can run up the bill. But another month or two and I'll be a free woman. You might want to try it."
I frowned. "I agree that he's a first class bastard, like yours, but what would I do?"
She flagged down the waitress for a fill up. "Listen, Honey. You'll get half of what both of you have. That will be plenty for you to find a cottage somewhere and stock it with young yard men wearing cut off jeans." She took another swallow. She could drink coffee like a truck driver could swill beer. "Hell, you and I could find a place and share it. Remember when we used to climb into each other's beds in the dorm? We used to diddle each other but we never got serious. We could do that now."
"Great," I said. "Just what I need today - my best friend trying to seduce me." I pushed my cup away - any more and I would spend the day in the ladies room. "So what are you going to do till the big day."
"I'm going up to Chicago to see my folks for a while. Then probably back to the alma mater just to kill time. What's the matter?"
I had suddenly leaned over to her. "I'm going with you." I shook my head. "Actually, not really, but I want to say that I am."
She narrowed her eyes. "Ok, Honey. Talk to Mama. What's going on."
I shrugged. "Nothing. I just want to get away without anyone knowing where I'm going."
She fell back into her chair. "Well, well. My little roommate is going somewhere to make bang-bang with some... who?"
"Nobody. I just want to be alone. Ok?"
"Ok, Honey, Ok. Just as you say. We are going to the Windy City together. Just promise me that when we get back, you will tell me how much we enjoyed it."
Late that night, I got up, went downstairs and started up the computer. Shortly, I had filled out and submitted a request for an appointment for a certain date. The next day, I got a message telling me to drive to the airport on that date and leave my car in long term parking. I was then to wait at a particular area until picked up.
I was with the young man that I had talked to a few weeks earlier. He still didn't give me his name, and didn't ask mine. We were in his pickup heading somewhere. When it became dark, we were still on the road, but in the mountains. We stopped for dinner, then eventually, we slowed down and turned off the road up a steep driveway, and stopped in the parking lot of a hotel. He led me to a bedroom off of his office, bade me good night and said that we would begin in the morning.
Morning came, and he knocked on my door. I came out to find a full breakfast waiting, but he was gone. That was interesting since I saw no hint of a kitchen anywhere, other than a microwave and a refrigerator. Afterward, I sat looking out the window at the beautiful vista of the valley far below. What the hell was I doing here? This was crazy. I didn't even have a car to get away with. The door opened...
"Good morning." I replied, and he continued. "Beautiful view, isn't it? Let me guess - you're having seconds thoughts about this and wondering if you've made a mistake?"
"Is it that obvious?" I asked.
He smiled. "No, it isn't obvious at all, but you are not my first client on her first session, by a long shot. Remember, you're not trapped up here. If you want to leave at any time, all you have to do is say so."
"And if I say so while I'm tied up and gagged, then what?"
"Ah. You have touched on the mornings topic." He gestured to me to follow him. "Come into my office."
His office was plush, in fact the only office part was a desk. In the rest of the room were several very comfortable chairs. I sat down in one, and he in the other. He looked at me for a moment, then said, "Now, Ma'am. If you are like the bulk of my clients, at the moment you don't really know what you want. I know nothing about you, period. Nonetheless, I would guess that you are the wife of an unhappy marriage. One in which your husband is so busy with his career that you are just the housekeeper that he comes home to in the evening. Sex is probably in the missionary position once or twice a week and it brings you no pleasure any more."
As he paused, I asked sardonically, "And your training includes psychology, also?"
Another smile. "No, but after several years of women coming to the mountain, I can pretty well read my clients." He waited, but I said nothing. "Now, your initial application indicated that you wanted to explore moderate restraint and punishment. And you put a question mark for the safety questions."
"Yes. I mean, if I can just say a word and the... activity stops, then it isn't real and I know it isn't real. That would seem to take away the... what is the word I want... excitement? anticipation... fear?"
He nodded. "This is entirely up to you. Some clients are here on an imagination safari. She lays or sits or is suspended in fetters as her mind leads her through an adventure. The actual chains or ropes are merely symbolic. She's been captured by mobsters, or kidnapped for ransom. Or, some escaped psycho convict has her at his mercy. Coffee?" he asked. I took a cup. "With some women, it is actual punishment - or restraint. We have to find out what it is you want."
I thought though my fantasies of the last few weeks, every since I talked to Susan. "I want to be taken, forcibly. Some guy kidnaps me for ransom. Or some nut just wants to get even with womenkind. He even whips me for fun. Does that make sense?"
He nodded. "Yes, I think I can provide the proper... ah, stimulation. But we still have to thrash out the matter of the safe word. If you don't pick one, then you get what we decide on, no matter what you want after it starts."
I thought about it, almost shuddering. "Is a safe word normal?"
He shook his head. "No. Usually only for absolute beginners. Some women pick some restraints or punishments that they know they won't like, just for the feeling of helplessness they have knowing that they can't stop it once it starts." He took another sip. "In your case, right now, I won't subject you to severe punishment on your first time. You may think you want it, but your body might not."
He took me to a room in his hotel across the parking lot. It was just an ordinary room, I thought as I changed into the simple dress he gave me. I stood there waiting for him to return, thinking of my requests. I indicated that I wanted to be punished, as though I were kidnapped and taken for ransom. I was both apprehensive and excited. He returned, and told me to turn around facing away from him. Suddenly, I felt a cold metal object on my neck. There was a click and a feeling of heaviness. I turned around to see him leaving the room.
My hands reached up and felt a collar around my neck. Then suddenly... Ohmygod, there was a chain leading to a ring in the wall. I almost panicked - this was the first time I had ever been in a situation where I couldn't... what? The chain wasn't long enough to reach the door. I couldn't do anything but sit or stand. In a room on a lonely mountaintop. I sat down on the bed, trying to sort out my emotions. Since I rejected the idea of the safe word, then I was in for a week of... something that I couldn't stop.
I thought about what I had put on the application form - I was to be treated like a woman who was kidnapped for ransom, but by men who had no intention of releasing me and therefore no need to keep me in good condition. The only reassurance I had was his statement that first time clients aren't subject to severe... what?
Two hours went by and my coffee filled bladder was complaining. The chain connected to my collar wouldn't let me reach the bathroom. In another thirty minutes, I was sitting with my legs together and in pain. I had noticed a white bucket by the bed, but had paid it no attention. Finally, I pulled it to the side of the bed, squatted over it and peed. The relief was wonderful, but I was sure that the situation was deliberate. He wanted me to have to use the bucket as a psychological ploy.
Finally, he came back. "Hell, I thought you had forgotten me," I complained. He said nothing, just unlocked my chain at the wall and pulled me - yes, actually pulled me like a dog on a leash - outside then in to the room next to mine. My eyes widened as I looked around. This was definitely not a normal hotel room, with chains and... and... hell, I couldn't even recognize most of the stuff.
He stood me in the center of the room, then suddenly snapped my wrist into a cuff? manacle? connected to a chain and running through a pulley on the ceiling. As I looked at my fettered wrist, the other one was encircled. Then he bent down and locked two metal ankle cuffs on me. He pulled on the end of the two bottom chains and my legs were spread wide - as wide as they would get without pain. I had barely accepted that my legs, and other parts of me, were wide open, when he pulled on the wrist chains and my arms were spread above my head. I wasn't pulled painfully tight, but I was stretched as widely as a girl can be spread.
This happened so fast that my emotions couldn't keep up. It slowly dawned on me that this was real. I was being held helpless in chains! A strange man that I had only seen once before could now do anything he wanted to me. God! Was he going to take me now? And how? Susan had told me all kinds of tales about how she was violated on this mountaintop. I scoffed at most of them - who would do those things and why would she let them? Hanging spread in chains, I was much less skeptical of Susan's stories. As I waited for my fate, he once more left me.
My emotions were both good and bad. Good in the sense I was excited about what might happen. And bad in that I was worried about what might happen. Pulling first on my arms, then my legs reinforced both sets of feelings. This wasn't play bondage with toy fetters bought from a corner sex shop. I wasn't going to be doing anything but standing spread, until I was released - period.
The door opened and he came in holding something in his hand. It wasn't a whip, just a two foot long... something with a handle and a flat end, almost like a long spatula. He stopped in front of me and just looked. I finally, decided to speak up. "How long do I have to stand here? This is getting uncomfortable."
I suddenly found out what the object in his hand was for. Thwack! it went across my butt, though my thin dress and panties. "IAAEEEE" I screamed. God, it hurt!
He walked back around in front of me, put the end of the object under my chin, and pushed my head back. "First rule. You will speak when I ask a question, and not at any other time. Otherwise you will get this riding crop for real. Got it." I nodded through my tears.
"You told your husband you were going somewhere else, correct?" I nodded again. "Nobody really knows where you are. Correct again?
"Y...Yes," I said. A sense of what was coming was beginning to dawn. I had been one stupid bitch.
"Then I'm afraid that your kidnapping fantasy has turned into the real thing." He walked around behind me. I tensed for another blow, but it didn't come. In front of me again, he was smirking. "It never ceases to amaze me how many stupid bitches there are out there that fall for the bondage spa on the mountaintop routine."
He grabbed hold of my dress at the neck, and pulled hard. I was pulled forward, but not very far, obviously. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll keep you till you cease to interest me. Heck, you might be here for years before I sell you to a bordello in South America." He let go. "On the other hand, if you are an uninteresting bitch, you might be servicing oil field men before the month is out." With that, he left, but was only gone a few seconds. He was carrying the bucket that I had used earlier. He set it between my legs, then left again.
All day long I stood there in chains trying to figure out what I had done. Was Susan in on the deal? Was she a partner - one who solicited victims? How could I get out of here? Eventually, I had to empty my bladder again, and tried to hit the bucket under me, but I am not one of those women who can pee a stream. Mine just splattered everywhere.
Later in the afternoon, he came back with a plate of food, which he fed me himself. By now my arms, especially were starting to tire. He was still carrying the riding crop, so I was afraid to complain. "It's time for your second instruction," he said. "You will remember that your first was not to speak unless spoken to." I nodded. He lashed me lightly across the stomach. It was more of a surprise than a painful blow.
"You will always answer, Yes, Master, or No, Master. Understand?" I nodded again. This time he popped me a stinging hit - nothing like the first one, but I could still definitely feel it. "Are you stupid? What did I just say?"
I immediately answered, "Yes, Master."
"Ok, much better. "Every sentence you speak will have the word Master somewhere in it. Understand?"
I nodded then quickly said "Yes, Master" again.
"The next thing you need to learn, is that you are no longer a high class swell. Those days are over." He kept hitting his other hand lightly with the crop. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. "You are just a cunt, a pussy, a female with holes for my use. Understand?" I really didn't - the words didn't sink in yet, but I answered in the affirmative.
"One thing you will learn, is that cunts don't wear clothes in the presence of their Master." I looked at him blankly, not registering what he said at first, then suddenly almost panicking as I realized that he wanted me naked. I couldn't - nobody had ever seen me nude except my doctor and husband, and usually even with them I was wearing something to cover my intimate... parts.
"N...no. No, Master... Please, no." I begged. He was a stranger. I don't want to show my... my..."
"Your what?" he interrupted. " I was silent. "Your WHAT?!" he said again.
I managed to choke out, "My private... parts." Fortunately, I finally remembered to add, "...Master."
He shook his head in amusement. "Every swell I get in here has a real mental block talking about her body. Let's see if we can get you started on a useful education." He stuck the end of the riding crop into my right breast - not hard, but enough for me to feel it. "What do you call these?"
"My breasts... Master," I added.
He swatted my outer thigh with a gentle stroke. "Breasts are what a nursing woman has. Or a normal woman. Or what you used to have. Try again."
I wasn't an innocent little girl - I knew what they were called on the street, or in bad fiction. But those words I never used outside of a girls dorm, long ago. I waited too long. This time I got a real swat on my bottom. "IEEEE... Titties, Master?" He nodded. Then the end of his crop lifted the front hem of my cheap dress, and lifted it far enough for the tip to touch my vagina through my panties. Now my face was beginning to turn red. He looked at me expecting a name. I began to say, "My vagin..."
He swatted sideways with the crop and shook his head. It didn't hurt but I stopped in mid word. I was now feeling like my face was scarlet, which made no sense. I was spread up like a butterfly on a display board, in a place where nobody knew where I was and open to anything that a strange man wanted to do to me. And I was worried about saying a word that was probably used about a thousand times a hour in any given religious school. "My pussy, Master."
He smiled. "Well, well. Was that so bad?" Once again he walked behind me, looking. "Ok, now that we both know what you have, how about showing it to me."
"Master?" I asked, not quite knowing what he meant, but worried nonetheless.
"How about showing me your pussy and titties?"
I shook my head, "No, Master. Please." I watched the whip in his hand, fearful of my negative response.
"Ok, he said. "Have it your way." He left.
A couple of hours later, my arms and legs were starting cramp badly. I had been spread in one position for hours. How long was he going to keep me here? I looked up as the door opened. Thank god he was back. I risked a plea. "Please, Master. Let me down."
He picked up a glass, filled it with water and held it while I gulped it down. I hadn't realized that I was so thirsty. He set the empty glass down and asked, "Have you changed your mind?
"About showing me your pussy and tits."
Standing there in considerable pain, I just lowered my head and shook it. I looked up to see him leaving again. In a flash of insight, I suddenly realized that I wasn't going to be released until I agreed. "Master! I shouted to his disappearing back. "Please come back. Master!"
Two more hours passed, I guessed. Turning my head, I could see that the sun had set throughout the window. I was trying to flex my limbs to relieve the cramps. It helped a little, but only temporarily. God, I had museum legs like I had never imagined. If I could only have pulled my legs up and bent my knees, but I was stretched out with no slack in any limb, although not so tight as to have any pull on my arms. Was he going to leave me here all night? God, please not.
I lost track of time. I was also losing the feeling in my arms and legs.
I must have fallen asleep. I had no idea how much time had passed, but I suddenly noticed that he was standing in front of me. The closing door must have been what woke me. He could do anything he wanted, if only he would release me. "Please, Master." I begged.
"Do you mean that you want to show me your private parts?" he asked innocently.
"Yes, Master." I choked out.
"Yes, Master, what?" he insisted.
"Yes, Master. You may look at my private parts," I finally got out. Then a short yelp as the crop came down on my back lightly.
"Oh, I may? How generous," he sneered. He moved to directly in front of me. "I asked you if you wanted to show me anything, and you state that you will graciously allow me to look at your stuff, like you are giving permission to a servant." He started for the door. "I'll be back in the morning - then we'll see if your noble attitude has changed."
Oh, God! No! Don't leave me chained here all night! "No! No!" I screamed. "Master please look at my parts." He turned around and looked at me quizzically.
"I don't have a lot of interest in 'parts'," he replied, then turned to leave again.
"Master! Don't leave!" I was frantic. "Please look at my pussy!" He stopped again and turned around.
"Just your pussy?"
"No. No. Please look at anything. My pussy, my titties - anything you want." I was almost crying by now. "Please, Master. Look at anything you want."
He walked back to me. "Just look?" he asked. "Can I feel of anything I want?"
I hung my head and choked out, "Yes, Master. Please do anything you want with my body, just please let me loose."
"Ok," he said. Relief flooded though me at the sudden hope that I wouldn't be standing here much longer. The next action was a shock. He grabbed the front of my thin cotton pullover, and yanked. It ripped like tissue paper and left me standing there in bra and panties. Before I could react, he slipped a scissors between my breasts and cut the strap. My breasts sprung out as the bra dropped away. I have a nice set, as George calls them, a good size without being huge, and still fairly high. In moments, both sides of my panties were cut, and he pulled them away and dropped them in the corner. Stepping back, he just stood and looked.
My first reaction was purely female, to cover my private parts and my breasts with my hands. Of course, with me being spread eagled in chains, that attempt fell totally flat. All I could do was lower my head and look at the floor as I felt his eyes look into every open part of me. But that was only for a minute or so. He then stepped up to me and began to feel of my vagina with one hand and weighed a breast with the other. I made a little squeal, then a sharp intake of breath as his fingers busily explored.
It was at this point that I began to realize what it meant to be submissive. In normal society, as far as sex went, the woman ruled. She decided when it would happen, and how it would happen, and when it would stop. She could even lay down the rules as to what could be touched or played with. If she said no, then that was it. And she had the full force of law behind her. Now, I had nothing to say about anything - touching, looking or even the use of my body. It was both repulsive and exciting at the same time. My mind was furiously dwelling on the current situation so that I wouldn't think about what would probably come next - his taking me against my will. He would be only the second man ever to have me in my life.
But, it didn't happen. He suddenly released my arms and one leg and said, "Flex your muscles." God, it was the most wonderful moment in my life. I moved my arms and legs around in sudden pleasure at the sensation of actually being able to move them. Later I dwelled on the malleability of the human mind, to think that nirvana has arrived just because I had been released to stand naked in front of a strange man with only one chain on my ankle. In a few minutes, he connected a chain to my collar, unlocked the ankle chain, and pulled me back to the bedroom next door.
He connected the end of the chain to the wall, and pointed to the bucket. "Use that if you need to." And left.
I suddenly realized that I definitely needed to use the bucket in the worst way. I needed to pee badly, but also to have a bowel movement really soon. Oh my god! Peeing in a bucket was one thing, but to poop in one... He would see the result! But when the body needs something, social taboos have no power. Afterward came the next shock. There was no toilet paper. I desperately looked around for something, but except for the sheet on the bed there was nothing.
Shortly he came back. Fortunately, I had finished and had moved the bucket back to the wall. Then I noticed that he had a tray with food. I suddenly realized that I was famished. "Eat," he said. "You have five minutes." Then he left again. Five minutes till what, I wondered? I was not only hungry, but dead tired from the strain of the day. I assumed that in six minutes that I would be laying under him as he used my body.
But it didn't happened. He came in, turned me around and manacled my hands behind my back, then pushed me down on the bed. "Good night," he said, then turned the light to low and left.
I lay there for a while, bound to the bed by a short chain hooked to my neck, and with my hands behind me, thinking of the day and what was to come. The problem with that line of thought, was that I had no idea what was to come. Exhaustion took over shortly and I fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, I was treated to a smattering of bondage and discipline. The first actual discipline that I had ever had, other than the minor swats of yesterday, was a whipping while chained to a post just like a slave of old times. Now, I realize that this session was nothing but love taps, but as I writhed at under the stinging whip, I thought I was going to die. When it was over, I almost collapsed with relief, or would have if my bonds had allowed, but as the week went on, I began to crave the whip more and more.
How he knew is beyond me, but he could exactly measure my desire for the lash, and each time give me just a little more than I thought I could stand. I became addicted to it.
I won't dwell on the rest of the training that I received that week. Suffice it to say, that I learned what it was to be a sub. And not a play sub. This was as real as if I were a slave in some desert arab's tent. Any slightest hesitation or error was instantly and painfully punished. But, there were rewards during the week also. I had only had one orgasm with a man in my life, and that was recently and only because of horniness from imagination. I had many during the week, almost all of them deep and fantastic. And of course, when the week was over, I wasn't sold to a bordello over the border - just cleaned up and sent home - now a hopeless convert to B&D from the underside.
I became a steady client of the mountaintop, booking sessions whenever I could come up with an excuse to visit friends, or do a girl's weekend out in some other city, or sometimes when my husband went on business trips.
A year later, Jill was over for coffee and girl talk. Actually, it was her idea, this time - I knew she wanted something, but I didn't know what. Her divorce had come though, she got half of everything and seemed to be doing ok.
"All right, Honey," she started. "I have come for the truth and nothing but the truth."
I smiled and poured her some more coffee.
"Spill it," she said. "I'm the one who is supposed to be happy - a single girl with money to do what I want." Sip. "You on the other hand, still have to live with that son-of-a-bitch and yet you are the one who looks and acts like a debutant."
"Girlfriend," I said. "You wouldn't believe it if I told told you." I smiled behind my cup. "But if you are accusing me of having a lover stashed somewhere, you're wrong."
She wasn't buying it. "I came by three times last week while your significant other was in New York, and you weren't here. Don't tell me you were on a week long spending spree."
I looked over the cup at her, trying to decide how much to say. What the heck - she wasn't going to tell on me. "Would you believe that I spent the entire week with a chain around my neck, being stretched and whipped by a man?"
"Yeah, right," she retorted. "I bet it was a real ordeal for you and the..." She tapered off as she saw my expression. "My god," she exclaimed, then looked around to see if any servants were visible. They weren't - they had the day off. "You're serious!" I had finally shocked her.
I nodded, stood up and unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off. Turning around, I gave her a good look of my back with the horizontal red stripes - still visible, since I had only gotten home from the mountaintop last night. Turning around to face her, the expression on her face was now that of total shock.
Finally, she managed to put together a sentence. "You mean that you let someone beat you? For God's sake, Why!?"
I smiled. "He didn't beat me - he whipped me. Different thing altogether."
"Besides," I interrupted, "I didn't have a choice. I was strapped down to a bench with my legs chained to the floor, and my hands manacled behind me to my neck collar." Her eyes got wider, but I was really enjoying myself. "Plus, I had a big gag in my mouth so I couldn't beg him to stop." She just sat there, eyes wide open - which just happened to match the state of her mouth. "More coffee?" I asked, innocently. She just pushed her cup toward me without even bothering to check how much it already had.
She made a visible effort to calm down, took a few sips of the brew, then said, "Ok, I will assume that you still have some semblance of sanity left, so start from the beginning."
I did. Of course, I made no reference or gave any details pertaining to the actual mountaintop, but just gave her the gist of what a session at the unknown place was like. An hour later, she was believing, but still having trouble with the whole concept.
She asked again, "But, why?"
"Sweetie," I answered. "There are multiple reasons. One being that I have discovered that I thoroughly enjoy being dominated. By a real man - and by that I don't mean some big dicked beach bum, but a guy who knows everything there is to know about making a woman feel submissive." I pushed the cup away since I had already had enough to guarantee many trips to the bathroom this afternoon. "May I also mention that I have more orgasms during any one week on the moun... up there than I have had during my entire married life?" She was just shaking her head. "If you would like, I will gladly give you the phone number for to enquire.
"No thanks, Honey," she said emphatically. "I can get my kicks without someone taking a whip to me."
I shook my head. "No. I told you that the bondage sessions are totally tailored to what the woman wants. If you don't like pain, you don't get pain."
A few months went by. Jill was still horrified and fascinated by what I was doing. Finally, after seeing that I was going more and more often - which corresponded with my husband's longer and longer 'business' trips - she asked for the contact number. Then I didn't see her for several months. I called her a few times, but she was always out of town. Finally, one morning she called to come by.
"Hey, girlfriend," I greeted. "How're the titties hanging."
She settled into the chair in my coffee nook, and replied, "One thing that has changed since you started getting stretched, is your language." She poured herself a cup. "You sound like some slut walking down the mall with her friends."
Pouring myself a slug, I smirked, "Yep, you can believe that. And, as soon as I get rid of my insignificant other, I am going to turn into one of those sluts for real."
She leaned over the table in excitement. "Are you finally going to do it? Really."
"Goddamned right," I swore. "But not as an act of passion. I'm going into this courtroom with all my ducks in a row." After a sip, I asked, "How about you? What have you been doing in the last few months?"
"Well," she said, sort of reluctantly. "I've been trying some of your curative rest advice... in the mountains."
"Well, well" I exclaimed. "What did you think?"
She hesitated for a moment, then said, "I like it. Not the pain you seem to get off on, but I have to say that... he is an absolute expert on restraining women. And I have to agree with what you once claimed - I've had more real orgasms on that mountain than in all the rest of my life in total."
We talked for several hours, trading experiences and impressions. Finally, I said. "Lets go up to New York for the weekend. Just you and me. I haven't been on a shopping trip for ages."
"Now," she asked, surprised.
"You got a PTA meeting or something?."
She shook her head, brightened up, and said, "Sure, why not."
New York is a fun place - especially if you have money. We made the rounds of the shows, shops, and deli corners. That night in the hotel, over coffee, the conversation went back to the mountain top. Jill was into real bondage, but just play pain. She just wanted to be stung by a whip or a paddle and just enough to make it real. On the other hand, I could take a real lashing, and wanted more every time I went. Just like the Master of the Mountaintop said, it is a real thrill to ask for more of something than you want and then put yourself in the position of not being able to change your mind.
We were comparing the desire for tightness - that is, did we like to be restrained to be unable to move much, or drawn tight like a bow string. I pulled some long scarves out of my bag and said, "Lay back on the bed. I'll show you."
She licked her lips, but hesitated. It wasn't nudity that was stopping her - we knew what each other's bodies looked like since we had dressed and undressed in front of each other since college. But, the embarrassment, uncertainty, shyness in front of a friend, - something - made her pause. "Oh, come on," I said. "We both have been talking about B&D for months and doing the same thing with the same stranger. Besides, I'm not going to see anything on you that I haven't seen most of our lives.
With a wry smile, she laid back spread on the bed. I quickly tied her arms and legs to the corners, not tight, but she had little play. "How's that?" I asked.
"I like it tighter," she answered. I grabbed hold of her legs and pulled until most of the stretch was out of her arm fetters. Then I loosened the leg scarves and retied them with about the same tension. She nodded.
"What does he do next," I asked, knowing full well.
"Well, usually he gags me and feels around till I am about to explode, then he goes away and leaves me like this for ten minutes or two hours - I never know."
"Sounds good to me," I said cheerfully. Reaching into my bag, I brought out a large ball gag.
She looked at it in surprise, then exclaimed, "You brought bondage stuff?" I brought the ball close to her face and she violently shook her head. "No! I don't want that thing." She clamped her jaws shut. I was an old hand at this. The Master had well taught me how to open a woman's unwilling mouth. "Owww," she yelped as I pinched a nipple between my thumb and forefinger. In went the ball and in seconds was secured by the velcro straps behind her head. This was the first time I was on the domineering end of B&D play, and it felt good. I pulled the knot loose from her bathrobe, and spread it open, leaving her totally naked on the bed. I then did the same thing to mine, dropping it on the floor behind me.
I lay down beside her and whispered in her ear, "You're my bitch, now, girlfriend." We had lightly diddled with each other's titties in college, but back then we barely knew what we were doing. Now, years later, I knew exactly where everything was and how to use it - or abuse it. As she lightly struggled, I slowly began to trace a finger around her nice breasts, then up to her neck, and down to her navel. I slowly moved up and gripped a nipple between my teeth, and rolled it back and forth. We had also done that to our just-developed titty bumps way back in our young girlie days. Finally, my finger kept moving south till it went over the smooth hill and entered the top of the crevice. She stiffened as I stopped on top of her little speed bump. I began a slow rub while I nuzzled her neck and ears.
It worked. Soon her eyes were closed, her nipples were hard and full and she was breathing heavily around the gag. Her pussy lips were also engorged and began to spread even further. My fingers got bolder - much more than we did as young college girls - and worked around and in her now well lubricated slit. As she approached the cliff, I pulled the gag loose and locked my mouth on hers. She responded frantically with her tongue and we both were deep in each other as she orgasmed. As her spasms subsided, I just lay my head down and held her.
Thats how we started. As far as actual B&D was concerned, our play was a thin shadow of what we got on the mountaintop, but nonetheless, we had some very satisfying girl-on-girl bondings. We never did get brave enough to try oral sex, but we still slowly grew closer together.
Each of us had our own desires. Jill wanted tight bondage. I wanted the whip. It took her a while to use the lash at the intensity that I wanted, but once she got into it, she could have me writhing and begging for mercy - and it was real - no play acting this. I would have done anything to make her stop.
It was my idea to ask our Master for a dual session. I didn't know if he offered that, but I decided to find out. At the moment I knew that the mountaintop hotel had been demolished and was being replaced with a still unfinished house and bondage sessions wouldn't resume until it was built, but I requested a meeting to talk about a special request anyway. He was obviously interesting in keeping our relationship going, since he immediately scheduled a talk-talk in our city. A few days later we drove Jill's van to a particular street corner and picked up the Master waiting on the curb. Then we drove to a parking lot at the airport.
After parking, we all moved to the back of the vehicle and sat down in the captain's chairs. In sort of a hesitating, slightly embarrassed way, we informed him of our desire to have a long double session with the two of us. That part went ok, but after a few minutes the turn of the conversation went in a totally different direction. What he offered us was REAL bondage, for an indefinite time of his choosing. I was surprised by the offer, and looking at Jill's expression, I know she was also. After an hour of so of more conversation in which he brought up some more requirements for us, we dropped him off again and headed for a hotel. Only this time it wasn't for sex - we needed to talk.
I popped the cork on the bottle of wine that we had purchased on our way from the airport. After pouring two fairly full glasses, I sat back, held mine up and looked at my partner through the red liquid and said, "Well, that was certainly an interesting meeting, girlfriend." She didn't say anything so I continued. "I wonder where his other dungeons are located?" He had mentioned in passing that he had other places to service women, besides the hotel on the mountain.
She took a long sip - a gulp actually. "What did YOU think?" she answered. "You realize that he countered our request for a dual bondage session with the offer of real slavery for life!"
I waved my hand at her. "He didn't say anything about slavery. Or a lifetime of it. Don't be ridiculous. I doubt that years from now, he would want two old ladies with their cunts dried up and tits hanging to their knees as lifetime toys. He said an indeterminate time, not forever."
She shook her head. "Maybe so, but it is still for the length of time he wants, not us. What if we want to end it after two weeks or so?"
Sip. "We couldn't. Thats why it's called bondage. After all, you're the one who said she wanted it to be real."
"He could do anything he wanted with us!" She was really getting both excited and apprehensive.
I nodded. "That's the real part."
She emptied the glass. "What do YOU want to do?"
I smiled. "I'm for it. I hope he strings me up by my tits and whips the shit out of me." I leaned forward and set my glass down, then moved the bottle away from her, otherwise she was going to be stonkered in fifteen minutes. "Look, you heard him say that he was through with play-games with play-women, that he was only going to accept hard core subs. We either do it his way, or we settle for fingering each other from now on." I poured her a small dose in her glass. "You know that he only takes very wealthy clients - hell, with his fees nobody on a working wage is going to be in one of his sessions. If large numbers of rich bitches had been disappearing, that would be front page news, so I doubt that he is the great grandson of the Jack the Ripper. In short, he's a young man who loves to fuck tied down females and has built a very lucrative career out of that hobby."
She shook her head and then sat back and looked off into the distance for a while. I just let her ponder on the matter. This really wasn't the type of decision that the girls in our circle usually needed to make.
Finally she spoke up. "What about his idea of the roundabout trip to Europe and back just to cover our tracks? Don't you find that to be somewhat... excessive?"
I leaned back with a shake of my head. "Heck, you know him. He's a fanatic for security and privacy. But that's a good thing - any other guy we know who tried to run an operation like that would have had it on the front pages within a month after he started. Including pictures of you and me."
"I wonder how many women he services?"
Another shake of my head. "That's another matter of his secrecy fetish. I only know of one more - the woman who referred me. There might be only the three of us or three hundred for all I know." I stood up and began to unbutton my blouse. "Look, we don't have to decide this now - hell, we don't ever have to decide. But you obviously need time to think about it, so while we have a paid for hotel room here, let's not waste the opportunity."
She thought it over during the next month, during which my separation turned into a divorce and I was free. Finally, she admitted to me that the idea of being a real sub for an unknown time was coloring her dreams and thoughts every day. So we decided to make the move. The Master had told us to convert our wealth into negotiable instruments so as not to leave anything behind that could be thought to have been abandoned. We delivered a suitcase full of paper to him to be hidden on the mountain. Jill brought up the question of what if this was just a scam to steal our money after which he would deposit our bodies in some hole in the countryside. I pointed out that it was a known fact that, compared to the monetary worth of our Master, even our combined stash would be pocket change and why would he bother?
Our first stop was London. Then we took the Chunnel train to Paris. From there we spent a couple of weeks crossing Europe, never spending more than one day in any one place. Except Amsterdam - now that was a city of sex. Everything was public and on display. For a couple of protected college cunts, that was quite an eye opening city. Finally, we were back in the new world in the Canadian city of Winnipeg. That night, a fairly shady character arrived at our hotel, warned us to put on warm clothes and flat shoes, and we soon departed the city going south. Eventually we came to a rural house with no lights, and with no explanation at all, got out of the car and began to walk through the dark woods for at least a couple of miles. What the hell was this all about? Our guide kept looking at some kind of cell phone gadget as we walked, and I finally realized that it was one of those satellite navigation thingies.
In a couple of hours our legs were just shy of becoming jelly and we came to another house. We had just illegally crossed the border. This structure had another car with another non-talkative guy waiting. Immediately, he motioned us to get in the back seat and we were off.
Sometime during the morning I woke up, and realized that Jill and I had collapsed into exhausted sleep at the start of the ride. The reason that I had awakened was that the car had slowed down to exit the Interstate. I nudged Jill awake as we pulled into a gas station. The driver turned the motor off and swiveled around to look at us. Without introduction he said, "If you need to pee, ladies, now is the time." With that he got out and started pumping gas. Needing to pee was a totally understatement - my teeth were floating. We both headed to the ladies room to relieve ourselves.
This was the first time we spoke since we got in the car. "Damn," Jill exclaimed, "I feel like I'm on the run from the cops."
"Well," I answered, "At least we don't have to worry about keeping up our end of the conversation during the trip." A definite understatement since that driver had spoken exactly two sentences since he met us. "I have a feeling that he isn't going to treat us to a lavish breakfast or lunch - we better grab some food while we have the chance." We loaded our arms with junk food and water and headed for the car. He was already finished and was waiting.
That night, hours later, we pulled into a twenty-four hour grocery store parking lot and found that our Master was waiting for us in his big SUV. "Welcome," he said cheerfully and after a few minutes of general conversation, we were on our way to the mountaintop. I wasn't sure why, because the hotel was gone and his house was far from finished, but for the moment I didn't care - he had brought hot Chinese food and a bottle of wine.
We chattered like magpies for a while, then slowed down as we gobbled down the food. I was really getting light headed for some reason. The day had been tiresome, but not exhausting. It wasn't like me to be taken down by a couple of glasses of wine before...
Realization suddenly dawned as I looked over to see Jill's head starting to drop forward toward her chest. We had been caught by the oldest trick in the book since Micky Finns had been invented. Either the wine or the food had been drugged and we had been eating and gulping it like a couple of young cunts visiting a biker bar for the first time. I smiled as I just lay back and let it take effect. So now it begins...
I was trying to figure out where I was. My head felt like a pumpkin, and my mouth was dry as a cotton ball. It took a while for my senses to come together then I sat up and realized that I was naked and in a steel cage. It didn't take long to realize that my ankles and wrists all had bracelets encircling them, although they were free. Then I noticed a sensation at my throat, and felt a collar around my neck. But all that faded into the background when my eyes focused and looked out beyond the cage.
It was unbelievable. We were in a huge cave and one that was fitted out with... everything. I could see a kitchen, and beds, a huge TV, and... just more stuff as far as the floor extended. I heard a light groan and looked behind me and watched Jill begin the waking process. Like me, she was naked and fitted with metal on all her limbs and neck. So... Our extended bondage session had already started.
I could see at least three other - no, there were four or five people moving around in the distance. So this was our Master's personal dungeon. I was guessing, but what else could it be? I helped Jill rise to a sitting position and watched her go through the same discovery process that I had just finished. Finally, she held her head between her hands and said, "I guess this means that we are now officially a couple of owned cunts." She looked around slowly. "Where ever this is."
Someone must have been watching because in about a half hour, a young well built redhead - also naked except for a halter holding her breasts and adorned with metal like us - walked up to our cage and slid a tray of food through the bottom slit. She also handed each of us an exercise bottle of water. She seemed friendly and was smiling but said nothing as she turned around and left.
In an hour or so we got another visitor along with the redhead. This one was definitely not a young and buxom girl, but a much older woman with a whip in one hand. She was definitely not a looker, slightly overweight and with pendulous breasts, but was still sporting the hardware that I assumed made her a sub. Without any hesitation she began her welcoming speech. "My name is Pancake." We didn't dare answer and just sat and watched. "You are now slaves of the Master, like the rest of us, including me. At the moment I happen to be the Mistress of this place and that is what you will call me." She turned to the redhead and pointed to the ground. The young girl immediately dropped to a squatting position with her knees apart and her head bowed. The woman, Pancake, pointed to her with the whip. "This is the position you will assume when the Master approaches and you will not move or speak until spoken to. For now, until you are trained, you will also assume this position when I walk up." She stopped at that point and just looked at us, sitting on our mat.
For a few seconds she just continued to watch, then suddenly leaned over and lashed Jill on her thigh. Jill screamed and looked up with wide opened eyes as Pancake continued, "Are you deaf? Did the Master get stuck with a pair of stupid broads!?" Instantly, I knew what was happening and immediately got up on my haunches in the proper squatting position before the woman could whack me.
"Jill!" I said, looking sideways at her still sitting there in pain and confusion. "Get up!" It finally dawned on her why she had been struck then scrambled to the proper posture.
The older woman continued. "That's better. Now... I don't have any idea why you are here or how long your stay will be and it doesn't make any difference anyway. While you are here you are under the absolute rules of the Master. Mostly, that means that you will obey any order instantly and that you have absolutely no rights at all. You are just a pair of slaves whose pussies, assholes and mouths are available for any use the Master allows. Stand up and turn around."
That last order out of the blue took a few seconds to sink in, but as she raised her whip we both scrambled to our feet and faced away from her. I felt my arms being pulled behind me and then my wrists were fastened together. The redhead unlocked the door at the end of the cage and motioned for us to follow her. We walked downhill into the main area of the cave, all the while looking with awe at the wonderland we had been brought to. I could see three other women over in what I assumed was a living area - no, one of them was a man. Now that was interesting. I wondered what his purpose here could be.
We were brought to an area with some bondage furniture and bent over with our feet still on the floor. I knew what this was, since I had been tethered to one in the old hotel many times. With the woman's neck attached to the end and her feet chained wide, all of her lower entrances were available for use or abuse. But this time I wasn't chained tightly, only my neck collar was attached in a way that my body lay on the rack, face down, with my feet free and still firmly on the floor. For a few minutes we stayed that way as we heard movement behind us. I hadn't seen any trace of the Master so I was unsure as to what was happening. Usually, I was whipped or he had sex with me in this position. Or even...
I felt a familiar sensation as something was inserted into my rectum. I also well knew what this was. The use of an enema bladder was something that I had received from my first session on the mountaintop. Sure enough, soon I felt the sensation of warm water slowly filling me. Looking over at Jill's wide open mouth and eyes, I knew that she was getting the same treatment. When the first cramps hit, I knew to wiggle my behind to slosh the water around and relieve the pain - I hoped she knew that also. Enemas were not something that we ever talked about during our girly playing. Soon, the cramps became real but this was a clean out session, not a torture procedure so our necks were freed and we were told to squat over a bucket as the bladder was released.
Jill was scarlet with embarrassment and I knew that this was a new procedure for her. But in a few minutes we were empty, and the process started again. After three times, we both were clean from the top of our colon to the exit hole. The redhead then led us to a shower and, since our hands were still fastened behind us, gave us a quick scrub down under the warm water. Without drying us off, we were then led to another area and strung up facing each other between two large tall metal posts. We stood there for a few minutes, breast to breast, legs held wide apart and our arms over our heads and also spread apart. I had a feeling about what was going to happen. I was right.
Pancake came up behind me and began, "Each of you is going to get ten lashes. Not for punishment, but just so you will get a taste of what will happen anytime that you even slightly disobey the Master. Just remember that what you receive from me is nothing as to compared to what the Master will dish out if he wants." Jill and I just hung there looking wide eyed at each other. The redhead walked behind Jill, reached around and inserted a ball gag in her already wide open mouth. In a few seconds I saw one being offered to my mouth and I just opened wide and accepted it. I liked pain with my bondage, but I knew that Jill only liked very light punishment, and that mainly when she was most of the way to orgasm. I wondered...
Suddenly, my back was lashed harder than anything I had ever felt. Even the most severe punishments that I had received in my other bondage sessions were like a love kiss compared to the pain radiating from the strip of skin on my back. Despite the gag, I threw back my head and screamed at the top of my lungs. Then, as in if it were far away, I heard another scream as Jill reacted to the the same punishment. A half minute or so went on, then another hit in a different place. Once again, I thrashed in my bonds, trying to scream the pain away. Later, I realized that the woman was an expert in her whip use. She didn't just beat us with the lash in a continuous whipping, but allowed us to experience the full sensation of each one for almost a minute before the next strike. She would allow enough time for the pain to begin to subside and for our senses to cease reeling, so that the next strike could be experienced in full. By now both of us were babbling - or trying to around the gags - with nonsensical pleas for mercy, and offers of service, and probably many other meaningless entreaties. Eventually, at the end of the tenth lash, we were both just hanging by our wrists and barely whimpering.
The gags were removed and we were left to just hang there for an indeterminate time, until our senses came back. Finally, we were able to stand normally - although spread legged - and relieve the weight on our now very sore wrists. Jill was just saying "Oh God, Oh God..." over and over until I told her to snap out of it. As I stood there, the thought came to me that our fantasies of being real subs were far far away from the real thing. If I had know...
I suddenly realized that the Master, with Pancake, was standing beside us and looking up and down. Then he asked me something that I don't remember answering - my back and bottom still had my major attention at the moment. Shortly, I felt a hand exploring up and down my body, mostly down. I saw him move behind Jill, then reach around and grab her breasts. Suddenly, Jill's mouth popped open in an exclamation that she immediately bit off, and her body began to shake. I realized that he was performing anal sex on her.
Eventually, he finished and said something to the girls standing beside us and we were taken back to the cage, made to lie down on our stomachs, and our feet and hands fastened behind us. There we were left for the rest of the day.
Our training started the next day. In the morning - I guess it was morning - I could only go by the sleep periods of the other occupants. Anyway, that morning we were both taken out with our hands still fastened behind us. I don't know where Jill went but I was led to a lounger by the redheaded girl - a really strangely built lounge chair. There was a place for a reclining person's legs on both sides of a gap that had a thick rug on the floor. She laid back on the chair and motioned me to kneel between her legs. In a sudden flash of panic, I knew exactly what was going to happen. I had never performed oral sex on a woman before, not even on Jill in our most passionate love sessions. Now, I was in a position where I had no choice. I could either perform it, or refuse and get sent back to the whipping posts, after which I would still have to perform the act. And to underscore the situation, I suddenly heard Jill exclaim, "Noooo..." followed by two loud twacks, which were followed by two screams.
I knelt and gingerly moved my head forward between the girl's legs until I came to her pussy. I hesitated, but she forced the play by grabbing me by the hair and pulling my face hard into her crotch. I wasn't real sure what to do, so I just stuck out my tongue and began to lick whatever was in front. It wasn't satisfactory. Suddenly, my head was pulled back by the hair and I was looking into the face of the redhead. "You're going to have to learn to do much better than that. If you fumble around on Chocolate's cunt like you're doing mine, she's going to beat the shit out of you."
From the ruckus I had heard, Jill must have already pissed someone off. I said quietly. "I've never done this before." I heard another whack and a scream. Desperately I said, "Please show me how." She smiled and gently pulled my head forward into her crack.
"It isn't rocket science. Move your tongue up and down my slit. Start down at the hole." I did that for a while. "Now use the top of your tongue on my clit." Shortly, she gently pulled my head back up. "No. At the beginning you can twiddle it with the end of your tongue, but only to get started. You need to use the rough topside to stroke it. Lightly at first then harder as I get close to cum'ming."
For an hour or so, I was instructed in the finer points of eating pussy, as she called it. By the time she reached orgasm, my entire mouth and tongue were cramped and aching. I had been lucky to have drawn the redhead named Cupcake for my initiation. She was of a much milder and friendlier disposition than the large brown girl called Chocolate. Cupcake led me back to my cage, locked it and then unfastened my wrists. Way across the cave floor, I could see Jill still crouched between the legs of her "trainer." She must have been doing something right by now - I didn't see or hear her punished again. Apparently the big girl was insatiable - it was close to an hour before she came back to the cage leading Jill with a hand in her collar. As she got closer I could see that she was a BIG girl. Big in everything - boobs, hips, height. Her narrow waist only emphasized the other features of her body. Of course, like everybody else in the cave, she was hairless from the neck down. The sexuality just radiated out from her. Any man I have ever met would have melted in his tracks at the sight that I was now viewing.
I made a note to self not to piss her off in any way. She was big enough to beat the shit out of most men I knew, let alone me. Like me, Jill was pushed into the cage, made to back up to the bars and her wrists released. She flopped down on the mat and leaned back exhausted. I could see several new stripes on her body. Waiting until the big girl was far enough away not to hear, I asked, "How are you doing."
Jill shook her head. "My tongue is about to fall out. That bitch..." She suddenly looked around in fear that someone might be listening. "...she can't be satisfied." She looked across the cave at the departing woman. "She had to be faking. No woman can have that many real orgasms one after another."
I was also watching the woman disappear behind a large rock across the floor. "I bet she can. I doubt that there is much faking that goes on in this place." I looked back at Jill. "Anyway, we're definitely getting the lesbian action we wanted."
"No we aren't," Jill countered. "We wanted to do it on each..." She stopped as I made a cutting motion with my hand. I could see another woman starting up the slight slope toward our cage.
"Oh God," said Jill under her breath. "My mouth can't go another session like that last one." We both fell silent as we watched her approach. She also was sporting a set of breasts that would have made the men's magazines. Apparently every women in this place was double D or bigger, except for the both of us. This girl was also brown like the big Chocolate. She was tall also, and...
Jill suddenly drew in her breath in a gasp, and exclaimed, "Oh my God!" I looked over at her in surprise as she continued under her breath. "What in hell IS this place?"
Confused, I looked back at the approaching woman, now only about thirty feet away. She was just a... I suddenly stopped and my mouth dropped open as I tried to believe what I was seeing. She was a normal looking woman at a distance, and like the other girls - big everywhere except her waist. But she had... had... a... a... dick! Stunned, I just sat there staring. From the back of my mind, I dredged up some remote memory from somewhere that such creatures existed. I probably never believed it, but now I had no choice. But... Was this a man or woman?
Jill was the same as me - just sitting there frozen and looking. The girl... woman... hermaphrodite... whatever - came up to the bars and stopped. All I could do was stare at her privates. I don't believe that I had ever seen any penises besides my husband's or the Master's, but hers... his was far larger than either. Looking closer, I became even more confused. She... It had no testicles. By now I was almost in a state of shock and just sitting there... Oh shit! The... person... pointed at me and motioned for me to stand up. I was afraid to but I was far more afraid of being sent to the whipping post again. As much as I got off on being lashed, if possible, I would NEVER do anything to get strung up there again. I stood up and turned around as she gave the familiar signal. I automatically put my arms behind me and felt my wrists being fastened.
The cage was unlocked and I was led down the path again. With no hesitation I was bent over a rack with my collar attached to the tabletop, and my legs spread wide. I was immediately entered from behind and the penis began to pump me violently. In a few minutes, I felt the warm liquid enter me. After a few post orgasmic spasms by my user, I was immediately released and led back to the cage. Unlike my experience with Cupcake, this was a Slam-Bam thank-you-Ma'am act that took only a few minutes. I sat back down with the sticky fluid dripping out of my vagina, in a mild shock at what had just happened.
By afternoon, we had recovered our wits enough to discuss our situation.
The next day, we were both taken out again, strapped down and a girl worked on each of us with an electrolysis pen. And, off and on throughout the day, we were subjected to several hours of the same sex treatment as the day before. Today, all three normal girls used us, and again the big girl, Chocolate, wanted more than the other two put together. After Jill serviced her for over an hour, she pulled my head between her legs and started all over with me.
This went on for weeks. Eventually, we became bare as eggs below our eyebrows.
On occasion, the Master would use us, but most of the time we never saw him.
I woke up with a splitting headache and just lay there for a few minutes. When I finally opened my eyes, I was surprised to find that I was in a room. - a real room with four walls and a ceiling. What happened to our cage in the cave? I sat up slowly and looked around still confused at the sudden change of environment. We had gone to sleep as normal in our cage last night, but obviously we had been drugged and transferred somewhere... Somewhere was right. I could feel a definite movement of the room - were we on a boat?
Very shortly, I knew we were on a ship. Not only the movement, but the sounds I could hear were definitely nautical. I began to look around. Other than the rug we were laying on, and a blanket, the only other item in the bare eight foot square cube was a bucket - obviously our bathroom. Jill was still zonked out beside me. I let her sleep it off. It wasn't like she was missing anything at the moment - there wasn't even a window in the room. The only light came from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.
I tried to remember what had happened, but that led to nowhere. Both of us had eaten dinner in our cage and... here we were. Obviously the Master had drugged our food or drink again. I wondered where we were being transported to. Obviously overseas, since this was a boat.
Days later we still knew nothing other than we were in a steel box going somewhere. On occasion, a man would suddenly enter the room, set a tray of food on the floor, check our waste bucket and exchange it if needed. He would say nothing, and even though we were totally naked, barely looked at us. Neither were we molested in any way. Both of us were afraid to ask a question and just sat quietly for the few seconds that he would be in the room. The motion of the ship didn't bother me, but Jill was nauseated the entire time, more or less. The only place for her to throw up was our waste bucket, and whenever she stuck her head over it, the smell alone would guarantee that she upchucked everything. I was worried about her health if we didn't get to our destination soon.
Once again I woke up with my head about to explode. Shortly thereafter, I noticed that the boat was gone. We were now in a shabby room, again only about eight feet square, but with unpainted board walls and a... dirt?... floor. What the hell was this? A threadbare rug and an equally worn out blanket were our only possessions. This room didn't even have a bucket. That was going to be a problem shortly, as my bladder was already signaling that it was time to go. Jill was still out and in her weakened state, it might be sometime before she came to. I slowly got to my feet and unsteadily walked to the door.
There was a small barred grill, but no doorknob. Through the grilled opening all I could see was another like door in an apparent dimly lit dark hallway. I turned around and leaned against the door, then noticed a flat piece of wood in the corner of the room. Walking over, I lifted the plank and discovered a hole leading down. From the miasmatic smell that suddenly hit my face, I suddenly realized that this was the toilet. Trying not to breath deeply, I squatted over it and began to empty myself with a sigh of relief. That being done, I had exhausted all possible and useful activities available to me. All that was left to do was sit down and wait for something to happen. I hoped that the first thing would be a shower for both of us. We were disgustingly filthy from days and days of no bathing and nothing even remotely resembling toilet paper.
A couple of hours later Jill woke up, and to my delight, was actually upbeat. To her, the dismal room we were currently occupying was infinitely superior to any accommodations on the ocean. As long as it didn't move, she was happy. But just like on the boat, there was absolutely nothing to do except talk. Sex was out of the question, given the disgusting condition of our bodies. So we just sat.
The door suddenly banged open and in the doorway we were startled to see the ugliest man I have probably ever laid eyes on. His face was a mass of pits, his clothes would have been tossed by a railroad bum, and his expression was not that of greeting welcome guests. He barked some unknown command, and gestured for us to get up. Of course, we immediately did. He walked over and snapped a bracelet on one wrist of each of us. A short chain connected us to one another, and another he used to pull us toward the door. We were towed stumbling down the hallway for a long ways, then pushed into another room. This was some kind of office, and standing there was another man - much better dressed than our escort, although he would not have been invited to pose for a mens magazine.
He walked over to us and began to inspect our bodies. And by inspect, I don't just mean with his eyes. There was no part of our bodies that was not poked or prodded by his fingers. Of course, after our training by our Master, we knew far better than to object or try to prevent it in any way. Neither man had any kind of whip in his hand, and none were apparent in the room but I was fairly certain that they had ways of punishing a recalcitrant female.
He barked a command. Of course, it meant nothing to either of us, being in some foreign language. Suddenly there was a hand on the back of either of our necks and we were pushed to the floor on our hands and knees. Our escort stepped behind us and spread our legs apart and I prepared to be entered from behind, but he was just putting us in some kind of display position. We crouched there, on hands and knees for about an hour as conversation and movement happened all around us. Finally, we were pulled to our feet and towed down the hall again.
Much further into the building, we stopped at another door. Our scarfaced escort removed the bracelets, opened the door and pushed us into the room. This was much larger - about the size of a bedroom - but not any more decorated. The state of the furnishings isn't what caught our immediate attention. Two things were far more prevalent. First, the smell was so bad that I would have lost any lunch immediately if I had been fed lately. Second, there were other females in the room. Eight, as a matter of count. But what females! They were naked like us, but even dirtier and smellier than us, if that was possible. They ranged from young - maybe eighteen as a guess - to fifty or sixty. None looked at us like long lost friends.
Jill was muttering under her breath, and both of us just slowly moved over to the wall next to the door. This was so far beyond any experience that we had ever dreamed of that we almost couldn't take it all in. There was nothing in our past lives to hang this new experience on.
After looking at us for a while, the other women finally went back to just sitting and staring. There was very little talk between them. They didn't seem to be friends, or even cellmates. With our backs still to the wall, we slowly squatted, then sat on the dirt floor. We whispered back and forth, but it was mostly just to assure each other that we were still together.
Some indeterminate time later, the door opened again and two men set two very large kettles on the floor, and one left. The other just stood there watching as the women immediately gather around one of them. We suddenly realized that one was a container of food and the other was water. Food we definitely wanted, but water was the most immediate need. The kettle with the water had four metal cups connected to it with short chains. Since the rest of the women were concerned with the food, we both drank our fill of water. As the other women moved away with their hands full of something, we walked over to the food kettle and looked in all the while keeping an eye on the man standing there.
As hungry as we were, the contents didn't cause any desire to eat at all. Jill shook her head, and started to back away when the man suddenly pointed to the container and barked a command. It didn't translate, but it was obvious that not eating wasn't an option for us. We reached in with our hands and pulled out some chunks of bread, cheese, what looked like a baked potato, and some other unknown items. Backing away from both the kettle and the male watcher, we again sat down with our backs to the wall and inspected our meal.
Despite the overall smell in the room and the idea of eating from a common dish with our hands, the food was not bad. Of course, the fact that we were partially starving may have had something to do with it, but after a few bites, neither of us had any problem consuming the rest. To be frank, we wolfed it down - in fact, I warned Jill to slow down or it was all going to come back up again. Especially with her having puked up most of what she ate during the voyage. In a short while, the man grunted another command and the women all took more food from the container. He pointed at us and then at the kettle. Obviously, we were to eat more.
There was plenty left. Later when I thought about it, I assumed that the idea was for us to put on weight since there was much more than a normal portion for each of ten women. At the end of the - well, I couldn't call it a meal - it was more of a food session - we were both stuffed.
Several days went by. The smell receded as our olfactory nerves either stopped working or, most likely, were probably damaged beyond repair. The food kettle came in three times a day and, during what we assumed was the evening meal, the water was replaced by very rich milk. I have to say that the food was not cordon bleu by a long shot, but there was always more than enough and it was fairly tasty. Obviously after a couple of full meals, we suddenly had to get rid of what our bodies didn't use. The toilet again was just a hole in one corner and we were faced with the embarrassment of using it in front of a room full of observers. However, since nature calls can only be delayed so long, we were finally forced to squat and do our business.
We could have saved ourselves the anguish of worrying about the shame of onlookers. As far as the other women were concerned, we could have been twiddling our thumbs - it was obvious that the use of a communal toilet was absolutely nothing of any interest to them.
To pass the interminable hours, we discussed the situation we were in. One theory was that the Master was using this... establishment, or whatever it was, for our slave training and that he would eventually appear and take us back. One idea that we didn't like, was that he had sold us into real slavery somewhere. There were other wilder ideas that we came up with, such as that we had been kidnapped from our Master and he was looking for us even now. That one didn't hold much water since the Master's dungeon wasn't exactly open for kidnappers to raid, or even find.
Jill had another theory about her husband paying the Master to punish us and was expounding on that one when the door opened again. The same rough faced man pointed at both of us to get up and follow. In the hall we were again chained together and led somewhere. It turned out to be a wonderful destination - a shower room! By now we were in the far stages of disgusting as far as our bodies went. Accumulated dirt from several weeks, from the floor of both the boat and the cell we had been in, sweat and lack of toilet paper had us in a state that would have been inconceivable two months ago. In addition, we both had been through at least two periods with no sanitary items and we had dried blood on both our crotches and down our legs.
The water was only lukewarm but was marvelous for all that. And there was soap. No toothbrush, but using our fingers and with lots of swishing we managed fairly well. The short chain connecting my left arm with her right was a hinderance, but we weren't complaining. We stayed under the water until our keeper came back. Still wet, we were taken to some other place in the huge building.
At yet another door, our chain was removed and we again were pushed through the door into another room. But this time, there were only two women inside. I immediately noticed that along two walls were six single beds, if a wooden platform with a blanket can be called a bed. This must have been the first class accommodations for the establishment, based on the lack of miasmatic smells that we had come from in our last suite.
"Madelyn!" I jumped at my name and looked at the woman who had made the exclamation. She was white, naked like us, with a...
Holy cow! "Susan?" I replied. Finally, seeing through the slave girl exhibition - long hair, no clothes or makeup - I finally recognized my old girl friend. Still disbelieving, I said some inanity like, "I don't believe it." We closed each other with a hug - something that we would have been totally embarrassed to do in the past, considering that both of us were stark naked.
We spent the next hours getting up to speed on each other's plight. I introduced her to Jill and she did likewise with her cohort, Cathy, to us. Susan was here because she committed some major violations of the Master's rules on secrecy - and she freely admitted it. Cathy had just been taken - she didn't know why. We told them about our adventures and how we came to be here - or at least, how we started the adventure. We still didn't know where we were. Neither did they.
Days and weeks went by. The food was plentiful, if not exactly Cordon Bleu. As a result, all of us began to put on pounds. Every day, we were brought out of our room and set to some chore some where, usually cleaning but sometimes in the steaming kitchen. I liked that particular chore because I could surreptitiously sample food that I normally wouldn't get to eat. The only fly in the ointment was the chief cook, named Tana, who ruled her domain like a two bit queen. Everyday, some unfortunate girl would get the imprint of a hand on the side of her face for some minor mishap.
The cleaning jobs were welcomed as a relief from the boredom of our cell. By now we were immune to the smells of the rooms we were cleaning, although for the first few weeks it was a major effort to keep our last meals from coming back up as we knelt did our chores. Sometimes the routine of cleaning was interrupted by a man entering the room, pointing to one of us and then to the floor, and entering us from behind as he began the process of emptying his seed into us. For us it wasn't an erotic act, since the usual man in this place, whatever it was, had a level of hygiene far lower than what we considered bare minimum. I wondered why none of us had become pregnant. Did they put some kind of birth control agent in our food? Or drink?
Now that we were clean, Jill and I usually slept together, once the lights went out. By now, we were completely comfortable with girl on girl sex. The hesitation and embarrassment that we used to experience in our early fumbling experiments was gone. The time in the Cave and our current situation allowed us to live from day to day for ourselves, rather than worry about any societal restrictions. In fact, it was as if we had totally cut the thread connecting us to civilization. We casually performed actions on each other that we would not even have dreamed of, or even known about, in our former lives.
One of the guards was an absolute bastard - a real sadist. Every few days he would enter our "suite", tie our wrists together then to a ring high on the wall. Then with all four of us almost on tiptoe, and facing the cold cement wall, he would walk back and forth behind us, mouthing something in an unknown language, then at random times, lash a girl with a long limber whip. He never drew blood - we assumed that would have lowered our value - but it hurt horribly. Even I dreaded the sessions, and I usually liked being punished with pain, but for the rest of the girls, those episodes were pure misery. Eventually, he would select one of us, apparently at random, spin us around and plow us unmercifully fore and aft. His penis was huge, probably the biggest I had ever seen - not that I had seen that many. But with it, the anal sex was pure torture - the unlucky girl would usually scream as her rear cheeks were split by the massive tool. By the time he left, the four of us would be just quivering pieces of female meat collapsed on the floor.
The discipline was absolute. We learned early on and in no uncertain matter not to disobey any order. Not even to hint displeasure at any thing we were told to do. I well learned what happened to girls that pilfered.
I was sent to the kitchen for the day and managed to stay out of the way of Tana's backhand most of the time. We were not only cooking normal meals for both the staff and inmates, but apparently for some kind of celebration that would be happening. I was making tray after tray of a variety of sugared rolls - somewhere between a donut and a cinnamon bun. God, they smelled delicious - sweets were something that we never got, and like most American girls, I was addicted to them.
I watched Tana head down the hall carrying the slate that she apparently used to keep up with the day's menus and knew that she would be gone for at least ten minutes. From one of the cloth covered baskets of rolls, I selected one of the smaller. There was no way that it would ever be missed. I palmed it, then bent over the huge bowl of dough that I was mixing and took a bite. My back was to the other half dozen girls in the hugh kitchen and they were all intent on their work, anyway. It was like ambrosia from heaven - the first sugar I had tasted for months. I wondered if I could get away with another...
Suddenly, an excruciating pain ripped across my back. I screamed, dropped the half finished roll, then fell to my hands and knees. I looked up just in time to see another lash descend on my back, wielded by one of the many guards in the establishment. Obviously, he had been observing me or us from the shadows of the hallway. He proceeded to beat me unmercifully, all the while keeping up a stream of invectives that I couldn't understand. Finally, my arms and knees would no longer keep me in the doggy position and I collapsed onto the floor. Through the red haze of pain, I saw Tana enter the room and then out of my sight behind me. I realized that the whipping had stopped, although my back and butt were still on fire.
They conversed for a few seconds, then a hand gripped my upper arm and jerked me to my feet. He turned me around facing Tana and before I could even register the fact, she had ripped the kitchen shift away that I was wearing and gave each of my breasts a slap which hurt even more than the lash. By now I was almost unconscious from the pain, waves of red passing before my eyes. I could barely keep up as he pulled me down the hall by my hair.
We finally came to a stop, somewhere, and I fell to my hands and knees again. More conversation between two males happened over my head. I didn't dare look up. Again, I was jerked to my feet and towed down the long hallways again. Then down a flight of stairs an into a small room. I heard a creaking sound, and before I could realize just what my surroundings were, I was shoved over a ledge and landed in water. I came up sputtering and saw a large grate dropped over me with a clank. The grate was only a foot or so above the water level, so I reached up and grabbed hold of a bar. By now, I was just about terrified out of my wits. Was I being disposed of? Thrown in here to die? Did I have to...
Suddenly, to my horror, I realized that it wasn't a pool of water that I had been thrown in - it was a cesspool. I instantly lost all of the small bite of the sweet roll that I had managed to eat - and everything else that was in my stomach. I retched from the smell long after my stomach was empty, then started all over from the fear. I barely had enough strength left to hold on to the bars. If it hadn't been that the sewage level was so high that I was almost floating at the level of the grate and needed little effort to hold myself, I would have drowned.
The cistern was about 8 feet across, round and deeper than my feet would reach. Over the last few weeks I had gotten used to smells that would have made me upchuck back in my civilized world, but the miasma from this cistern was overwhelming. And it didn't help that I had totally soaked my hair and face when I had been pushed in. Every now and then, a wave of sewage would gush down from somewhere and cascade over the edge of the concrete. I just hung on, numbly, knowing that my strength would only last so long before I would sink into oblivion. The only thing that helped me survive was that the stinking mess was warm. Had it been cold water, my adventure and life would have ended here and now. Even so, hours went by and I knew I couldn't last much longer. I stuck my arm up through the grate, then bent it at the elbow and under the next bar. Maybe, if I passed out, that would keep me from sinking.
I guess I lost consciousness for some unknown period. Suddenly, I felt a pain as someone pulled me out of the disgusting cesspool by my hair, then dropped me on the stone floor. I lay there for some time, then was yanked to my feet again. My eyes were caked with shit and who knows what, and nothing was visible but a blur. A strong hand on my arm both pulled me along and kept me from falling. We didn't go very far before I was pushed to the floor and then heard another loud clank. I passed out.
I woke without any memory of where I was or why. It took a few minutes for my mind to straighten itself out and remember. I looked around at my new quarters. It was a concrete cell barely long enough for me to lie down. It wasn't high enough for me to stand up straight without bending my head forward. And from the back wall to the door made of steel bars, it was only about four feet. Putting my face to the bars, I could see a narrow stone passage going left and right, but nothing else. Aside from a very thin mat on the floor of the cell, there was nothing.
After the few minutes of futile exploring, I just sat down cross legged and wept. What had my life turned into? All of this because I wanted to play fantasy sex games?
Eventually, the self pitying came to an end and I consoled myself with the thought that, unless I was scheduled to be disposed of, then I could only go upward from here. I looked myself over and realized that I was in the last stages of disgusting. The contents of the cesspool had dried on my skin and in my hair. It was in my ears, my eyebrows, my eyes and probably my twat, for all I knew. One thing for sure - I would never try to steal anything again.
Days went by. I guess they were days. All I had to go by was the number of times that I lay down to sleep. At regular occasions, conforming to the days in the real world, I assumed, a man would bring a jug of water and some heaps of food and set outside of the bars. The amount of food was encouraging. Apparently, the powers that be still wanted me to be fattened up, so maybe I still had some kind of future here. There was no provision for a toilet, so I had to pee and poop in a corner of my cell. Not that it made much difference, considering the hygienic condition my body was already in. Eventually the smell of myself went away as my olfactory nerves neutralized. Or died.
Time went by. I was becoming almost frantic with boredom. I played games with myself, dredged up every movie that I had ever seen and tried to replay them in my mind, went over memories from the time I was a little girl, recited leftover poetry from college, anything. I had about come to the conclusion that Hell would be a small room with nothing to do, when a man appeared, opened my door and grunted for me to follow him. Thank God! I'll be a good little girl from now on.
I was taken to our shower room, allowed to clean myself for a considerable time and was even given a rough bar of soap. About then I decided that Heaven would be a stream of warm water and a bar of soap. Then it was back to the room with my three friends.
"Oh my God! Its... Its Madelyn! All three girls were trying to hug me at the same time, all asking questions faster than any possibility of answering. Eventually, everybody settled down and we began to exchange stories. As far as they were concerned, I had just disappeared one day and was assumed to be gone forever. For their part, not much had changed from day to day. I assured them they they didn't want to trigger any punishment while in this place.
I went back to exactly the routine that I was in before my session in the cesspool. Interestingly, that still included the kitchen, and from Tana's attitude nothing had happened. Well, one thing did - I made sure that I didn't even lick my fingers while in the kitchen.
A few weeks later, things began to change. By now we had put on considerable weight. I went up an entire cup size. Then, one day, a woman appeared and began to give us lessons of a sort. Her English was fairly bad, but she got her ideas across - especially when she popped us with the little whip she carried. It is hard to say what the curriculum was, other than the theme of how to be subservient. Such as when and how to kneel, to always lower our eyes in the presence of a male, how to talk to a man (answer, never unless spoken to) and so forth. There was no instruction on sex or techniques, unless you count the times that a man just appeared in our room and demanded oral sex or for one of us to accept him for coitus. That was probably once a day or so. In the past, the idea of being screwed in the presence of observers, let alone friends, would have been horrifying. Now, all that happened once the man had done, leaving a dripping cunt in his wake, was to comment on his technique, or stamina, or whatever. After a few visits by individuals, we even made surreptitious bets on how long a particular man would last. In short, none of us would have been recognized by our past friends and peers as those upper class women who used to live in the swanky part of town.
Suddenly, all of that phase of our lives came to an end. One day, months and months after we had come to this place, we were herded into the shower room and told to clean ourselves throughly. Then we were taken to a room with real chairs, and two females dried our hair with cloths and combed it into neat ponytails. Some rouge was lightly applied to our areolas and our vagina lips. Then a dab of flowery perfume here and there.
Then we were left alone in the room, asking each other, "What the heck is this?" Obviously, we had reached a cusp of some kind, but we were obviously mystified as to what it was. Our consensus of opinion was that we were about to be the star attractions in an orgy. Nothing else seemed to fit. Then suddenly, a man entered and took Cathy away. That destroyed our main theory, but we couldn't figure out a replacement - we had nowhere near enough facts. Actually, except for our cleanliness and light makeup, we had none.
The same man came back and took Susan away without bringing Cathy back. Now we began to get worried. At what, I don't know. We still had no facts to get worried about, but this was ominous. All we could do in whisper to each other - giving our partner the latest and even more unlikely theory on what was happening. Then the door opened again...
We were walking down a long hall together - a part of the building that we had never been in before. There was really no choice as to walking together or not - the man had entered our makeup room with two thin collars and a chain. Shortly, the pair of us were chained together by the neck and told to follow him. As we moved along, it was obvious that we were leaving the women's quarters and entering the good part of the house. The concrete or stone floor changed to carpet, and the walls also went from bare construction material to paint, then curtains. We stopped at a door for a few minutes and were left alone.
We didn't dare speak, but tried to looked around without being apparent. It didn't help. All we saw was a corridor and a door. Then another man appeared, wearing clothes that were far more posh than any we had seen before. He held up a whip before us and, with a heavy accent, said, "Remember, femmes. Be gladsome or get chastisement." We translated that as a threat to be good. He then pushed us through the door, and stopped us a few feet beyond it.
It took a few moments to get my bearings. The lights were much brighter than we had been used to, so I was semi-blinded for a few seconds. My head was down, but I cast some furtive glances at our surroundings. To my horror, I suddenly realized that we were standing naked on a platform facing a group of men. I cringed internally from the idea of being displayed nude to a large group of strangers , but I well knew the punishments for disobeying orders in this place, so protesting or running off the stage was out of the question. Gradually, my eyes acclimated and my glimpses showed an audience of very well dressed men. Another man was on the platform gesturing and talking. Most were in Middle Eastern garb, but here and there was a western business suit. On occasion, one would raise his hand and say a single word or two. It was almost like a...
Oh my God! It was an auction and we were the items on bid. I was horrified, shocked, surprised and more all at once. This was a slave auction and real girls were being sold! Us! In the twenty first century! My level of disbelief was overpowering. My mind just flat wouldn't accept the fact that my eyes were seeing and my ears were hearing. A furtive glance at Jill showed that she had reached the same conclusion.
We stood there for a what seemed like a long time as the bidding went on. Of course, we didn't understand the lingo, but it was still obvious what was happening. Eventually, it seemed to end and we were towed across the platform and through another door. Just beyond, we were placed in a very small room, barely four feet square, the collars were removed and we were left alone.
Judy was barely holding back the tears. I wasn't exactly celebrating the wonderful events in my life, either. "Madelyn," she started, "up to now this has all been like a long sex game, but we've been sold as slaves, for real. Slaves!," she repeated. "Real slaves!"
I nodded. At least we were still together. Susan and Cathy had been sent out separately. It was a good assumption that they had been sold separately. In any event, they probably would never see each other again. Neither would we, for that matter. I took hold of her hand and pulled her down on the bench then put my arm around her and waited.
The wait was short. Yet another man opened the door and motioned us to follow. In a much larger room down the hall, a woman was waiting with some black clothes. Shortly, were were garbed in what I thought of as Arab fashion for women. I tried to remember what it was called - a hi something. Hijab maybe. It obviously meant that our destination was somewhere in the Middle East. I wasn't sure I liked that idea, not that there was anything I could do about it.
Immediately after, the waiting man escorted us down the hall and for the first time in months, through a door and outside. The sun was blinding, but only for a few seconds as we were inserted into the back seat of an automobile. The windows were curtained so all we could see was out the windshield and diagonally out the front side windows, and probably the back window, although we didn't dare turn around to look. The city was definitely Middle Eastern, but all the signs were in some language that meant nothing to me.
In about an hour we were at an airport and then were hustled directly from the car up a set of stairs and into a jet airplane. Again, the writing on the side meant nothing. We were far in the back, in a small alcove so I had no idea how many persons were on the plane. All we saw was our male escort and occasionally another female garbed like us.
Several hours later, we were there, wherever there was. Then I knew. Across the horizon I could see a city and I knew, from the strange building construction on the horizon, we were in one of the Middle Eastern gulf states.
We were in a state of absolute apprehension as we motored across the city to a huge mansion on the outskirts. Thoughts of what our lives would be like from now on. Worries of being owned by a sadistic master. Hope that we would stay together.
At the back of the massive residence, we were escorted inside, through a maze of hallways, and into a room. A very nice room. A wonderful room right out of Hollywood. It was about four times the size of the very large bedroom in my house - in my previous life, I reminded myself - and with a gigantic bed, even bigger than kingsized, lovely curtained walls, a carpet that could be used to sleep on, and other wonders. Even to a couple of ex-high class wives, it was magnificent.
Looking around, we noticed that our male escort had left and closed the massive door. Our hopes were rising fairly rapidly - we had feared being sent to a mud shack on a pig farm, or the like. Actually, being that we were in the Middle East, I reminded myself that the pig farm was very unlikely, but it could have been the house of a camel herder or a dung collector. Our new master was obviously fabulously wealthy.
"My God," said Jill, as we very slowly walked around the room examining items.
I automatically looked around, fearfully. "Be careful about using phrases like that," I warned. "Remember we are in a Muslim part of the world. We don't wont to get stoned or anything of the like."
She nodded. "Yes, you're right. I wonder if..."
We heard the noise of the door latch and spun around to see the door slowly opening. We instantly dropped to our knees and bowed our heads in the manner that we were taught. I could see nothing but the thick carpet for a few seconds then a pair of sandaled feet under a robe appeared. Then a pleasant male voice, in accented but good English said, "Rise to your feet." We stood up, but still kept our eyes on the floor - or at least toward it. All but his head was in our view. "You may look up."
He was probably in his thirties, dressed in normal Arab garments, as I thought of them, clean shaven and fairly handsome. Was this our new owner? "Remove your habiliments," he ordered. Again, in a friendly but firm voice. We immediately shucked off our unfamiliar black clothes and stood there naked as he walked around us looking, but not touching. I guess he liked what he saw. Fortunately. I would hate for him to decide that he had wasted his money on us.
"My name is Sheik Abu al-Qasim Mansur ibn al-Zabriqan ibn Salamah al-Namari. You will call me 'Master.'" We didn't know whether to reply or not. Apparently not, as he continued. "I have purchased you as my concubines. If you are satisfactory, you will know me as a kind master. If you transgress my desires, you will be severely scourged. This will be your... abode... dormitory... yes, this will be yours as long as you continue to become satisfactory." He assumed a stern expression. "If you displease me, you will be sent to the underground rooms and sleep on wood and eat raw vegetables." A pause. "Do you understand?"
Most definitely we did as we replied in unison, "Yes, Master." He spun on his heels and exited the room, leaving us standing together. As he left, the door immediately reopened and an older woman entered followed by two men carrying a couple of boxes with handles. I suddenly knew what was coming - I could see two golden collars sticking out of the top of one box. The woman motioned for us to kneel facing away. In a few seconds I felt a collar being placed around my neck and, glancing sideways, saw one being placed on Jill also. There was some more rattling for a few minutes, accompanied by a burned smell and then she stepped in front of us and motioned for us to stand. We had been connected by a chain - also gold in color and probably in fact also - hooked to each of our new neckwear.
Next, a bracelet was put on each of our wrists, then squeezed closed into a perfect circle with a clamp of some kind. Another chain was attached to each, which with a link placed through a corresponding set of holes in the bracelet, held it closed. The other end went to an eye bolt on the front of the collar.
Finally, a pair of bracelets were permanently closed around our ankles and a chain attached that also led to our collar. It turned out that the burned smell was a small torch that welded or soldered the links closed. It was obvious that these new restraints were to be permanent - there was no way for them to come off without a saw or cutter of some kind.
With that last in place, the three people left us to inspect our new jewelry. A few moments later, we began to experiment. The chain connecting our collars was about four feet long - that was as far as we would be getting from each other from now on. We would sleep together, eat together, piss and poop together. And be used together... Shit, I snorted to myself. Slutty American girls were "used." We were worthless slaves that would be fucked.
The chains leading to our bracelets were only symbolic. They restricted the movements of our arms and legs in no way. The were just an indication that we were owned and had no will of our own.
The idea of what we now were had just barely begin to sink in when two older women in normal dress - normal for here, that is - entered with arms full of colored cloth. They began to lay out silks and gauze garments on the bed - in fact, before they were finished, the entire bed was covered. Then they left, closed the door and we just stood there looking at one another.
"What in the world?" I commented, as I looked first at Jill, then at all the silk apparel on the bed. "Are we supposed to put that on? Or put it away, or what?
Jill just shrugged and walked over to the bed - with me in tow, obviously. We began to examine the clothes. Actually, the word clothes didn't fit what they were. Costumes, raiment, habiliments were the words that came to mind. "These are obviously for us. I guess we need to try some of them on." She lifted a sheer piece of silk that was obviously a sort of blouse.
"Well, we weren't given any orders, and we were given these things. All we can do is what we think is wanted." We began to try on each outfit, mixing and matching to try to figure out just what was what. They were all made in such a way that all the metal now hanging from us would not restrict the garments from being put on. Nothing in our past from the time of being little girls gave us any hint as to how these were supposed to be worn. All we could do is go by what we remembered from Hollywood movies about Arab girls. Soon, we were giggling as we dressed in what we assumed to be harem fashion. One thing the silk didn't do was cover anything up. Even when she was dressed from head to toe, Jill's breasts, nipples, and pudenda were as visible as if she were wearing nothing. I was about to change to another set of blooming silk pants when we heard the door open. We spun around to see one of the women reenter with another armload of silk. She stopped, frozen, and staring. Oh, shit, I thought. Dungeon, here we come - it's bread and water for us.
Then she burst out laughing. Shaking her head, she said, "Ne. Ne," and motioned for us to remove the silks. She dropped her bundle on a overstuffed chair, then walked over to the bed and selected an item, then another and gave them to Jill. Then another pair for me, then motioned for us to put them on. As they went on, she arranged them, tightening a pull string here and putting a loop over a button there. Finally, she stood back and looked, then picked up a pair of matching items that I will call scarves, and tied them around our necks. Next was a silken bow for our ponytails. Finally, some garter looking bands for our wrists and ankles.
She motioned us to the massive mirror on one wall and bade us to look at ourselves. Then she motioned for us to remove them. As they came off, she set them back on the bed, matching the pile with which one of us had been wearing it. Then she pointed to another set of items. Now we knew that she was helping us build our ensembles, matching what went with what and also showing us the proper way to wear them. It took a while, but eventually we had several sets of harem costumes that we put away in a huge cedar closet. When she left, we were back to being buck naked. Now we just walked around examining the room, for lack of anything else to do. What we really wanted was to get on the bed and begin to make love to each other, but we were very fearful of being caught in the act in a country where lesbian sex might get us hung, or stoned or worse.
Then, behind one curtain we found a door to a fabulous bathroom. A bubbling hot tub was the centerpiece and both of us immediately almost orgasmed over the idea of taking a real bath again. Since the Sheik had said that this was our quarters, we could only assume that this magnificence was for us also. In we went. After a long soak, with real soap and shampoo - and toothbrushes! - we were about as happy as we had been since our boat trip. Then, keeping an eye on the door, we managed a few kisses, along with some tittie squeezing and pussy fingering. But were were too wary to get into the throes of heavy passion. Finally, we got out, dried off and went back into the bedroom.
Eventually, the door opened again, and a very young girl entered, pushing a cart full of food. This was orders of magnitude of higher quality than what we had been eating in the slave house, or whatever you want to call it. And, just like then, there was more than enough. I knew that in this part of the world, the western ideal of thinness for women wasn't approved of. In fact, by now both of us would be called chubby back home. And in our cases, a lot of the fat went to our breasts and both of us were sporting a much larger set than we had begun our adventure with.
The rich food and the day's excitement had taken its toll. After our food cart had been rolled away, we lay down on the huge bed and instantly fell asleep in each other's arms.
We were woken by the same woman who had helped us. She selected a harem outfit for each and helped us get them put on and arranged. Then over to the dresser for some very light makeup, mostly just rouge powder. No lipstick or eyeliner like we were used to using. The woman left us sitting on the bed, and disappeared.
As we looked around and at each other, I murmured in a low voice, "I guess this is it. I wonder if it is just him, or do we entertain a party?" Jill just shrugged and continued to look at the artwork. We didn't wait long. The door opened and our Master entered - this time just wearing a robe about like any American male would throw on after a bath. Well, that answered that. Just him.
We had jumped off the bed and to our feet as he entered - clumsily, since we were still unused to being chained together. Again, we looked down at the floor, hands at our sides. He walked up to us and began to inspect his new merchandise. It was easy - nothing we were wearing hid anything at all, so his hands had no problem finding and fondling first our breasts, then our twats. This wasn't a fumbling kid - he had done this before. He had expert fingers. Finally, he pointed and said, "Both. Enter the bed and perform."
Confused, we looked at each other and Jill said, "Master?"
He pointed to the bed again. "Tarkan attested you as two sapphic women. Is that not correct?" A light dawned suddenly in my mind. The slave house that we had been in obviously knew of our dallying with each other and apparently sold us as a pair of lesbians. Now I knew what he wanted. I took Jill by the arm and pulled her toward the bed, whispering in her ear. "He wants to see some girl on girl action."
Unless the both of us were horny, our normal course of love making was very slow. We might just lay beside each other for an hour or more, with just an occasional kiss and light petting, before getting down to active stimulation. Sometimes the casual kissing was as far as it went. I knew that we couldn't demonstrate that here - being a male, he would want to see two women really getting it on - just like the stag movies that Susan's husband used to collect and we would watch and laugh at when he was out of town. And as my chain partner lay down on her back and I crossed over her, I whispered, "Jill. We really need to put on a show. Especially this first time." And we did.
We could have been two actors in those stag films. We started with deep kissing, nipple sucking and fingering. With the appropriate sound track, of course. But it wasn't all show - we loved each other and the act began to become real, although it was always in the back of our minds to be outwardly expressive. Finally, I got down to Jill's twat and gave it my best tongue action, then we swapped and she did the same. Finally we wound up in the sixty nine position and were really bringing each other off. Neither of our tongues discriminated against any hole it happened to come across while it was moving up and down the warm slit. During this time, I glanced over at our new owner and got a mild surprise. He had his robe open and was steadily jacking off. This was obviously a major turn-on for a man in a country where lesbianism was absolutely forbidden. Finally, the show came to an end, he got up and left and we headed for the bathtub again.
This was our new life. We were treated well, fed well, and allowed entertainment in the form of American TV, DVD's and books in English. In addition, we got an hour of Arabic language lessons every day for the first few months. He never struck us for real punishment, or treated us cruelly, and we responded by catering to his fetish of girl sex. That was the major trigger for his libido, but he wasn't exclusively into it only. On occasion, he would join us on the bed, and usually take one of us from behind. Slowly, over time we gradually experimented on him to try to determine what would set him off even more.
Once, while Jill was licking me and he entered my pussy from behind, she dropped down and began to lick his balls. That must have been something that he either had never had done, or had fantasized being done to him. It drove him crazy and he came back to us that same day two more times with a hard-on. In a flash of insight, I realized that this fabulously wealthy and powerful man, with servants and slaves that he had the power of life and death over, was either too embarrassed or too shy to request his fantasies. After that, Jill and I would discuss what would happen the next time, and we would try something new. The first time I tongued his asshole, he came so hard that he almost passed out.
Eventually, we asked for a whip and some rope. The next time he wanted some girly action, Jill strung me up, gagged me with some cloth and tied my feet apart. Then she proceeded to whip the shit out of me. It was sort of difficult, since she couldn't get more than the chain length away, but we put on a good show. Again, this was something new to our master and he responded with a series of rutting hardons for the next day or so. It wasn't long before he was wielding the whip, himself. Hesitantly at first, but then when he realized that I wasn't being permanently damaged, he got into the swing with gusto.
For my part, I would stretch Jill out, spread eagled on her back, then gradually tighten up on the ropes until she was as taut as a piano string and begging for release. Then I would usually sit on her face while the master plugged her hole in the normal fashion. Or sometimes, move to the other end and finger a couple of assholes that were conveniently available. I had to be careful with the timing because it was almost like a trigger with him. Just one good touch of his prostate with my finger and he would usually blow, ready or not, so I had to make sure to wait to use the technique until he was about to go over the edge.
Soon, we were looking through a catalog of bondage gear, and shortly a huge set of boxes arrived. Apparently, he had someone in a more liberal country order one of everything the Internet site had in stock and had it flown in.
As a result of our ministrations, we became like two favorite pets that he would cherish and bestow favors on.
Time went on - the golden chains were never removed and Jill and I were Siamese twins. If she had to get up during the night and pee, then I had to get up also. We had to learn how to live with another part of ourself that was never more than four feet away. Many nights, we would lay there in each other's arms and reminisce over what we had been and what we had become. We wondered what had become of Susan and Cathy, and were they in a position like ours? It wasn't a life that, in our youth, we would have expected to be living - not by a thousand miles. But it was what it was, and it was unchangeable, and we were satisfied.
With those thoughts, we usually began our snuggling for the night, ending with both of us sweaty and at ease with ourselves. Days, weeks, years meant nothing to us. We just took life one day at a time.
Copyright© 2011 by Morlock. All rights reserved. I welcome your comments. Email me at