At Fettering Castle
by Nob

Chapter 1

Colonel Fettering's low, throaty chuckle carried an undertone of impatience.  "I trust that you've been reflecting on your misbehavior this morning, Sherry?  I should certainly hope so.  After all, we really can't have you being disrespectful to Lady Brank when she is an honored guest here."

The girl to whom these words were addressed gave a meek grunt to indicate that she heard but otherwise remained motionless.  She really had no choice.

The Colonel's guest, a statuesque, raven-haired woman in her 30s who stood behind him in a stunning low-cut strapless gown of black velvet, said teasingly, "Oh, Hugh, you are the most tender-hearted master!  Why, I don't think Sherry is uncomfortable at all!  If one of my girls had sassed you in my home, I'd soon have her dancing to the music of my whip -- but all you do is make her stand facing the wall."

"Ah, my dear," he responded graciously, "but it's how she is standing there that's important."  He gestured toward the beauteous young brunette who stood, as Lady Brank said, facing the wall in the hallway leading to the parlor.  Her nose actually touched the wall.  "Helga, my assistant, arranged this form of discipline.  You see, she's not exactly standing there voluntarily."

Sherry's long shapely legs were accentuated by glossy black leather boots that were laced to skintightness from their stiletto heels up to just beneath her pertly rounded buns.  Broad straps bound her ankles tightly together, and more straps secured her arms harshly behind her, folded wrist-to-elbow.  Aside from her boots and a leather corselet that cinched her waist in to less than 18 inches, she was nude.

"Do you see that strap buckled at the back of her head?" he asked.  "It isn't just a gag-strap.  Actually, it's to make sure that she doesn't back away from the dildo-gag that's fixed to the wall.  By now, I imagine, she is probably getting tired of its jacking her jaws apart and pressing at the back of her throat."

He smiled and ran one hand slowly and possessively over the girl's bare asscheeks.  She twitched but could make no other response.  "And to help her stand still here, there is another dildo down here, fixed at right angles on a rod between her legs.  Helga fits it up into her and then snaps the rod into a fitting on the wall."  He laughed.  "Presto!  Instant immobility!  You see, she's too close to the wall to bend her knees even the slightest, so she can't do anything with the dildo."

"Delightful," Lady Brank answered.  "I must apologize for thinking you so undemanding."  She paused and then asked, "But you do not use her breasts for anything? -- no rings, no clamps?"

Her host frowned.  "Well, no.  It's a splendid idea, though, and I must ask Helga to think about it.  Perhaps a horsehair mat to tantalize her nipples?  A cross-piece connecting the clamps that is also secured to the wall?  Gad, Madam, you truly inspire me!"

Lady Brank cleared her throat hesitantly.  "If I may suggest something more, Colonel?"  He raised his eyebrows and nodded vigorously.

"You know, a vibrator attached to the dildo would certainly make the girl's life more interesting.  It should be one that goes on and off at random -- never long enough to bring her to climax, of course, but a constant possibility that will keep her mind focused always on her hungry puss.  No idle day-dreaming for her then, eh?"

"Fabulous idea, m'dear!  Where do you get these lovely ideas?  I'll put Helga to work on it first thing in the morning!"

He slapped the motionless Sherry across her fanny and said, "Helga will get you in another hour or two, dear.  Until then, think of how polite and obedient you will be with Lady Brank in the future."  The girl's high-pitched whine indicated both her misery and her submission.

Leading his guest back to the castle's high-ceiled reception room, Colonel Fettering asked gaily, "Will your darling Amanda be joining us later, dear Lady?  She has the most fabulous breasts!"

"Why, of course, Colonel!  I know very well how much you enjoy seeing her in action.  I should think that Roger must be nearly done with her new outfit by now.  That boy has such a clever imagination -- I just never know what he'll do next with one of my girls!"

Lady Brank selected a bell-pull on the wall and gave it a yank.  In a moment, Roger's voice could be heard via the communication tube.  "Roger here, your Ladyship."

"Are you close to finishing Amanda's evening bondage?" she asked.

"Yes, your Ladyship," he answered.  "I'll be bringing her down to the parlor in a few moments."  He paused and then added in an oily tone, "I think you will be pleased with my work, Madame."

"Very good," Lady Brank replied.  "Bring her as soon as you can."

She shut the communication tube cover and turned to her host.  "She'll be here shortly, Colonel.  Roger promises something special."

It was the Colonel's turn to pull a bell-cord.  He barked into the tube, "Helga?  Please bring Marie to the reception room with wine and biscuits for two.  Right away."

The two took comfortable chairs that flanked a serving table and waited.  Lady Brank admired the table's decoration, a small but richly detailed marble statuette of a slavegirl on her knees who was holding out her manacled hands as if begging for mercy.  "I like your choice of artwork, Colonel.  Where did you get it?"

He smiled.  "I hired the artist myself, Lady Brank.  He worked from a real model here in the castle.  The girl's name was Roxy, as I recall.  Sold her a couple of years ago to Dr. Fendle, up in Northumberland.  He'd taken a fancy to her."

"Ah, yes, I know Fendle," she replied.  "Very much interested in fancy harnesses, as I remember.  Why, some of his girls look like real draft horses after he does them up.  And he really uses them to pull his carriage, up at Ironwood, when the weather is good."  After a pause, she added, "I visited him there last summer, and rather enjoyed being pulled about the grounds by a brace of sturdy, high-stepping young beauties.  They were high-spirited, too -- especially when touched by the whip."  She chuckled at the memory.

They discussed the statuette and Dr. Fendle further, until there came a knock on the side door.  "Helga?" Colonel Fettering called out.  "Come in, come in!"

The door opened and there was a gentle clink of chains.  The two watched as the slavegirl Marie moved cautiously through the door atop her highheeled sandals, a heavy tray in her manacled hands.  Her pace was dictated by the 12-inch hobble chain that linked her ankle cuffs.  Behind her, Helga guided her by reins attached to a cross-bit gag secured between her jaws. 

Straps over and about her head held the wooden device crosswise between her teeth so that its ends stuck out several inches on either side of her mouth, drawing her lips back in a grotesque grin.  More straps beneath her chin forced her to bite down on the gag.  Lady Brank nodded her approval of the way the girl's full breasts were tipped with silver nipple-cones, from which slender chains were attached to the leading edge of the tray so that she would not be tempted to let it tilt downward.

When Marie reached the table, she dropped carefully to her knees and bowed her head.  The dark-haired Helga, square-bodied and muscular, nodded a greeting to Lady Brank and then addressed her employer.  "I've selected a Madeira for you, Colonel," she said formally, "and of course the very best biscuits.  Won't you have some?"

Lady Brank leaned forward and took one of the wine glasses, purposely pressing down on the edge of the tray nearest her.  Marie did her best to hold the tray steady, but could not avoid having it forced down somewhat.  The chains to her nipple-clamps tightened as this happened, eliciting a muffled squeak from the girl and also allowing Colonel Fettering's glass to tip over.  The dark red wine dribbled onto the parquet floor.

"Now, that's a punishable offense!" Lady Brank exclaimed hotly.  "A girl so clumsy really should be corrected immediately, don't you think?"  The Colonel smiled as Marie knelt trembling before him, still holding the tray. 

Helga used a hastily-gotten dustcloth to wipe up the puddle of wine, and then went to get another wine glass for the Colonel.  As she set it before him, she said helpfully, "I can whip her if you like, Lady."

Lady Brank held up one hand.  "No, I was thinking of something more, ah, interesting, Helga.  Have you an arching back-brace somewhere handy?  With that running down her spine and throwing her titties out, we can hang weights from her nips at ankle-height and set her to running up and down the hallway.  Oh, a whip will be involved, of course, but only to inspire speed rather than as the punishment itself."

Helga rose to her feet.  "Yes, Lady Brank, I believe I have just the item you mentioned.  I'll put this naughty wench into it straightaway."  She jerked sharply at Marie's leash, eliciting another grunt of misery, and directed her charge back through the door where they had entered.

Colonel Fettering nodded approval of his guest's proposal.  "A lovely idea, my dear!  Didn't I tell you just a moment ago that your presence makes life here so very much more exciting?  I can already sense the competitive fire rising in my belly -- some ambition to show that I can be creative too."  He paused and then added, "To begin, I'll see what Helga and I can devise for the sassy Miss Sherry tomorrow morning."

He closed his eyes in thought for a moment, but opened them at the sound of the elevator bell in the foyer.  "Ah, yes," Lady Brank said, "This will be Roger with Amanda, no doubt."  Shortly, there was the sound of a door opening and then the thin jangle of a hobble chain accompanied by the rapid tap-tap of high heels.  Then Amanda appeared.  The Colonel leaned forward with interest.

The slavegirl's harsh arm-bondage caught his attention immediately.  Each arm had been sternly doubled inside a tight-laced shortglove and now her elbows were held pointing skyward by straps that drew them close above her head, trapping it between them.  There was another strap buckled tightly about her head and arms at forehead level, and another just below her nose.  No doubt it served also to secure a tongue-clamp inside her mouth.  Her eyes were wide with anxiety.

Virtually nude, the girl was voluptuous to a fault.  Colonel Fettering noted with approval a waist severely narrowed by a studded leather corselet, her lush bare breasts thrusting out invitingly above it, and the smoothly curved legs below her richly rounded hips.

Amanda moved carefully atop stiletto-heeled sandals with the quick, short steps required by the 12-inch chain connecting her ankle cuffs.  The position of her arms accounted for her rigidly erect torso as well as for the way her bosoms jutted outward in proud exhibition.  A pair of D-rings graced the girl's breasts, locked into the surgically-prepared infibulation holes that had been bored horizontally just behind her nipples, and from them a forked leash ran down and back between her thighs.

Roger walked several feet behind her, the end of the leash held tightly in one hand.  Dressed in leather shorts and a vest, he was dark and stocky, with thick black eyebrows that met above his flattened nose.  Because Amanda's arm bondage incidentally deafened her, she was unable to hear any commands and was thus entirely dependent on her leash for directions.

As Colonel Fettering observed, Roger guided his charge by using her leash in different ways.  A jerk to her left told her to turn to the right, an upward jerk encouraged more speed, and two quick jerks meant that she should halt.  He could see that each jerk was communicated to her breasts as well as her crotch, enforcing every command with erotic pain.

When Amanda reached a spot directly in front of the Colonel, Roger gave two upward tugs on the leash in rapid succession and she halted immediately.  At the next jerk, she bent her knees carefully and then dropped to a kneeling position.  In response to an additional command via the leash, she worked her thighs apart and leaned forward until her twinned elbows touched the floor.  Her body quivered under the strain.  Colonel Fettering nodded his approval to Lady Brank.

"A most fetching pose, my dear.  Really, you have her trained to a faretheewell!" 

His guest bowed her head briefly.  "Of that you can be certain, Sir!  Amanda has a mind of her own, filled with the most awful mischief.  It has required both Roger and me to bring her to the proper degree of docility."

Roger's steady upward pull on the girl's leash persuaded her to bring her torso erect once more, and then to struggle clumsily to her feet.  Her breasts rose and fell magnificently as she panted from the effort.

"You mentioned her bosoms, Colonel," Lady Brank offered.  "Would you like to examine them manually?"

His eyes narrowed.  "Indeed I would, Madame, especially her rings.  Ought to check the surgery, don't y'know."

His guest motioned impatiently to Roger, who made use of the leash to convey the appropriate orders to his charge.  She moved cautiously to stand in front of him and then dropped to her knees once more, well within easy reach.

The Colonel's thick fingers danced happily over, beneath, and between the girl's firmly outthrust breasts, squeezing and cupping them, enjoying their warm curvature, and prodding the entrances to the tunnels through which her rings were locked.  Her breathing became erratic as the examination continued, and her torso began to quiver with growing excitement as her admirer's fingers teased her bosoms even more effectively.  Then he turned his attention to her nipples, already thick from his deliberate stimulation.  He gently pinched and twisted them until she began to shudder and snort under the tantalizing assault.

When he at last halted his investigation, Amanda's eyes were shut and she was obviously doing all she could to make her luscious breasts even more available to him.  It was clear that she was seriously aroused.

"Mmmmm," the Colonel murmured to himself.  "Don't remember when I've seen a lass so quick to come into heat.  Gad, Lady, you must explain your secret to me some day."  He leaned over and patted the kneeling girl's cheek.  "There, there, darlin', I expect Roger will have something to help you cool down."

"Yessir," Roger responded.  "There's a special dildo upstairs that I can fetch if you'd like."  But after a short pause he shook his head and added, "But this one's more fun when she stays hot like this.  If she comes too soon, she gets all dreamy and doesn't respond well to commands, no matter what, if you take my meanin', Sir."

The host's eyes narrowed with pleasure.  "I do understand, Roger, I do.  As a matter of fact, I manage my girls the same way.  A young beauty who is begging for a climax is ever so much more entertaining than one who's already erupted!  We can't be too free in handing out goodies to our pets, can we?"

Lady Brank spoke up.  "Ah, but you men don't understand how terribly maddening it is for a girl to be held at the brink of orgasm.  I recall once, when I was very much younger and in service to an older woman, being kept in just that state for an entire evening...I can tell you, it was sheer hell!"

"Gracious, m'Lady!" the Colonel exclaimed.  "I had no idea that you've had experience as a bondagette.  Really, you must tell me about it sometime soon."  Then he shook his ruefully.  "But of course!  That's how you know so much about handling your charges!  Utterly fascinating!"

Roger too looked surprised, but said nothing.  Lady Brank took a deep breath and murmured, "That was a long, long time ago, Colonel -- ah, before I learned that it is better to give than to receive, if you see what I mean."  She closed her eyes and sighed.  "However, it was fun for a while -- and very educational!"

Meanwhile, Amanda, now settled back on her haunches, had calmed down somewhat and was watching the conversation with uncomprehending eyes because she could hear nothing.  Noting this, Roger gave a sudden yank at her leash, encouraging her to rise to her knees once more.  With a stifled grunt, she obeyed.  Absent-mindedly, the Colonel turned his attention to her breasts again, and soon she was as excited as before.  Her moans and subtle writhing resumed as well.

Then the sound of an ankle-chain announced Marie's return.  It was Lady Brank's turn to be impressed.

With Helga holding the leash attached to the cross-bit still anchored securely between Marie's jaws, the dark-haired bondagette moved awkwardly and stiffly -- with good reason.  The brace now fastened down the center of her back held her torso arched like a pouter pigeon so that her breasts were forced outward in inviting display.  When Marie reached a spot in front of the Colonel and Lady Brank, Helga made her turn around so that the new accoutrement's effectiveness could be appreciated.

Its upper end was attached to a high, padded collar about Marie's throat, and its severe curvature held her head back above her fanny while her torso was flexed forward in a stressful bow.  The lower end of the brace passed down closely between her taut buns and then formed a Y-shaped hook that curled forward between her thighs and up across either side of her belly to prevent her hips from moving forward.

Each of the girl's arms had been laced into a shortglove that held it sharply doubled, hands pressed firmly against her shoulders, and the rings set at her elbows had been drawn together behind her with a knotted strap.  This arrangement further emphasized the outward thrust of her bosoms, which were still fitted with the glittering nipple-cones.

From each cone a small lead weight was now suspended on a slender chain so that it hung even with her shins.  With each clumsy step, the weights bounced against her legs, doubtless causing continual pain.  The girl's nostrils flared, showing her acute distress.

"Here's the naughty girl, Ma'am," Helga announced proudly.  "I hope you like the way I've set the brace on her.  She paused and then added, "She certainly didn't want to have it put on her, but in spite of her twisting and turning I managed to persuade her to cooperate.  I dare say her titties will throb for a week!"

Lady Brank took charge.  Standing up, she said, "Bring me a horsehair quirt, Helga, there's a good girl."  Helga handed Marie's leash to her, then went to fetch the desired item.  Lady Brank stood in front of Marie and stared into her eyes.

"For your clumsiness, child, you will run down to the end of the hallway and back here.  You will do this four times.  The faster you run, the fewer stripes you'll get -- do you understand?"  Marie nodded her head, eyes moist with fear. 

Helga returned and handed the quirt to Lady Brank.  "Will you remove her hobble, dear?" the older woman asked.  Helga did so.

"When I snap this little whip across your fanny, Marie, you will start running.  I will accompany you to make sure you don't get lazy."  Lady Brank stepped behind the bizarrely bound girl and laid the quirt over her buns.  Marie squeaked in pain and began her desperate race to the end of the hall.

Her tormentress, just as she had promised, moved easily beside her, aiming the quirt expertly to cut and sting at different parts of the girl's body.  It bit at her breasts, slashed across her shoulders, nipped cruelly at her thighs, and then stung her asscheeks again and again.  The girl's grunts grew more high-pitched as she struggled to move faster.

Colonel Fettering, Roger, and Helga laughed with delight at Marie's torment.  She reached the end of the hallway, turned clumsily about, and headed back while Lady Brank managed to make the whip cut up between her thighs to sting at her delta.  The girl stumbled and almost fell, but managed to recover and maintain her frantic pace.

By the time the ordeal had ended, Marie's face was damp with tears and her nasal breathing was a series of short gasps and husky moans.  At Lady Brank's order, she dropped clumsily to her knees before the Colonel, her torso still arched in scandalous display.  The Colonel reached down and bounced the nearest breast in one hand.  "Aren't you glad you have such healthy tits, girl?  They stand out beautifully when you're fixed like this."  He smiled at the way she tried to make them more available.

Amanda, in the meanwhile, was growing restless under Roger's casual massaging of her own breasts.  While Helga led Marie back to her cell, where she was to be relieved of her back-brace and then fitted with a teaser dildo fastened to her bodystrap, the Colonel went himself to fetch more wine.  He brought the bottle and three cups, which he filled. 

Lady Brank thanked him for her portion and drank it swiftly, explaining that accompanying Marie up and down the hall had made her quite thirsty.  She did not notice that neither Roger nor her host drank anything.

A few moments later, she rubbed her forehead and murmured that she was strangely tired.  The Colonel suggested that this was not unusual, after her trip earlier in the day and then her vigorous work in disciplining Marie.  Perhaps a nap would be a good idea.  She agreed, told Roger to bring Amanda up before too long, and bid them goodnight.

The two men decided to take their pleasure with Amanda, and accordingly changed her bondage so that she could be conveniently raped.  With her arms still strapped above her head, they doubled her legs in thigh-sheathes and laid her on her back over a large firm pillow.  After a brief period of foreplay, manual exploration of her breasts and puss, Amanda began to quiver with need and welcomed first the Colonel and then Roger into her hungry body.

Later, Roger freed her arms and forced her to crawl on knees and elbows up the staircase to the room where she would be spreadeagled on a cot for the night.

Chapter 2

Lady Brank could not move.  She discovered this shocking fact when Roger's gentle slap across one cheek awoke her from sleep.

"Wh-what is this, Roger?" she asked, looking up at him in confusion.  The room was flooded with morning light.  She tried again to move, only to discover that her wrists were sternly imprisoned in a pair of hinge-cuffs that were secured to the bedstead above her head.  And her ankles, she realized, were also chained together and fastened at the foot of the bed.  And she was nude as well.

Roger looked down at her, a smirk on his face.  "I've resigned from your service, Lady Brank.  Colonel Fettering has hired me at a very satisfactory increase in wages.  Oh, and we have decided to return you to your former condition.  A few knockout drops in your wine, you know?  From now on, you will be just another of the Colonel's girls.  I'm to be his chief assistant."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  So it had happened.  The careless disclosure of her former enslavement had doubtless inspired this treachery.  Now, she thought with resignation, she would become reacquainted with bondage -- with all the humiliation and physical torment (and  yes, the erotic excitement!) that had so repelled and yet fascinated her in her youth.  A seething combination of dread and excitement suddenly filled her mind.  Her soft moan expressed both reactions.

Then she stiffened as Roger casually touched her bare breasts.  They were still firm and full, and acutely sensitive to stimulation.  "Don't touch me!" she hissed.  But her former servant ignored the command and continued to gauge the shape and texture of her enticing bosoms.  It was when he tweaked her nipples that she moaned again, this time with reluctant enthusiasm.

"Oh, you're going to love being back in bondage," Roger told her.  "See how this excites you already?"  His strong hands moved down toward her delta.  She quivered, a rush of memories from the past reminding her of how much pleasure lay in being physically fondled while in rigorous restraint under the domination of another.

"Oh, don't..." she whispered, trying not to move her hips.  Roger's fingers found her crotch and pressed firmly.  Involuntarily, her body stiffened.  She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the tantalizing pressure.  It was no use.  She could feel the heat increasing between her legs and her nipples beginning to grow thick and firm.

But then Roger moved away.  "The Colonel and I decided that you are quite ripe for bondage after all those years as a Mistress," he said softly, nodding with satisfaction.  "We intend to make things as, ah, interesting for you as we can."  At the bedroom door, he turned and added sarcastically, "Don't go away, Lady.  We'll be back with some new things for you soon." 

Lady Brank shivered, still aroused.  No, there was no way she could get free of her bonds.  Worse, there was no way she could touch herself, no way to ease the hunger that had come so unexpectedly from nowhere.  She bit her lip in frustration.

It must have been half an hour before she heard Roger and the Colonel in the hallway.  She sucked in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut as the door opened, trying to quell the panic that she could feel rising within her.  Then Colonel Fettering spoke.

"It will be such a pleasure to add a truly experienced woman to my stable," he crooned.  "I have every confidence, dear Lady Brank, that you will become my very favorite slave...which means that you will spend a great deal of time with me.  What do you think of that?"

Lady Brank said nothing.  Then Roger's hands were at her manacled wrists, freeing them from the bedstead.  At last she could bring her hands down to cover her nakedness, or at least parts of it.  Then, despite herself, she smiled briefly, amused that the sense of embarrassment was so strong in her.  Knowing what the future would certainly hold, it would be quite irrelevant.

Roger said, "Resistance would be futile, so I hope you will cooperate now.  We're going to change your bondage so that you can move about, and we can make things, well, very uncomfortable for you if you don't do as we suggest."

"I understand," she replied softly.  At the back of her mind lurked a quivering curiosity about how it would feel to be back in bondage again after so many years.  "Tell me what to do."

"A spreadeagle comes next," the Colonel told her, "so that we can get you into some boots and a corselet."  He smiled.  "We want to give your womanly charms the very best exposure, you see."

After her ankles had been freed, Lady Brank was told to stand up and accompany her new masters to the chaining room nextdoor.  Hands still chained before her, she obeyed with only minor reluctance.

Once in the chaining room, her wrists were quickly freed and then locked into great iron cuffs that hung from two widely separated ceiling pulleys.  A moment later, her arms had been pulled up in a strenuous vee and she gasped at the feeling of utter vulnerability, an exquisite blend of subjugation and surrender.  A downward glance told her of the new thickness of her nipples.

While the Colonel observed with narrowed eyes, Roger produced a pair of glossy black leather boots, fitted with high stiletto heels that would strain her legs handsomely.  On command, she inserted a foot into one boot and waited while Roger pulled it up all the way to her crotch and then laced it to skin-tightness.  After the other boot had been laced up, Roger locked heavy cuffs about her ankles and drew them wide apart with more chains.

She jerked suddenly as her former assistant ran a hand up the inside of one thigh and cupped her mons veneris.  "Getting a bit damp, are we?" he asked mockingly.  "Well, it will help the bodystrap slide more easily.  You'll appreciate that, I know!"

It was true.  Although at first she had resisted the darkly delicious pleasure that came with having her arms and legs stretched out so demandingly, she could not fight it off for long.  Roger continued to fondle her delta and soon she surrendered to the urge to thrust her hips forward. 

Over her own quavering moan she heard the Colonel say happily, "She's going to be a corker, all right!  Roger me lad, I think the Lady is going to be marvelously grateful to us for what we're doing today.  Here, I'll bring her corselet."  He went to a cupboard and returned with the article, a sinister construction of heavy leather complete with steel D-rings and thick brass studs.  Roger accepted it with thanks.    

He pulled it about Lady Brank's waist with practiced skill and soon had the laces strung at her back.  With each tug, the laces cinched her waist in to still more waspish slenderness.  Its fierce embrace opened another set of hidden memories in the victim, bringing back a picture of her as a 21-year old, writhing before her Mistress in a similar garment.  Lost in the memory of the long-ago thrill, she was barely aware that Roger was fastening a bodystrap at the front of her corselet.

But when he pulled it back between her widespread thighs, she returned to the present instantly.   As Roger worked the coarse braided cord up between her lovelips and then deep into the cleft between her tensing asscheeks, she arched her back desperately.  Its pitiless embrace stirred more memories, and as he used the corselet's rear buckle to tighten it, she gasped at the erotic pain its grip inflicted.  Already moistened, her groin was acutely sensitive to the unrelenting pressure.

"Ahhh, aaaah," she moaned softly.  Unseen, Colonel Fettering moved behind her.  His open-handed slap across her derriere brought a louder yelp as her reaction seemed to tighten the strap even more. 

Then he reached around her sides.  His stubby-fingered hands cupped and squeezed her thick-tipped breasts, eliciting an even more passionate series of grunts and groans.  She felt herself being sucked into an abyss of primal frenzy, the assault on her helpless body summoning up again all the lovely, tantalizing ecstasies of total submission that she had known as a young slavegirl.

"Do you want to take care of her gag?" Roger asked.  "Certainly," the Colonel answered, and took the ugly device from his new assistant.  He held it up for Lady Brank's inspection.

"I'm not sure this type was available during your, er, previous service, Lady," he said slyly.  "Oh, you may have used one like this on some of your girls, but this will probably be the first time you've worn one yourself."

His prisoner stopped pulling at her chains long enough to look at the gag.  Yes, it was one of the new tongue-clamps, complete with hinged rubber-covered steel plates to grip her tongue and head-straps that would compel her to bite down hard on it.  "Oh, noooo," she whispered, shutting her mouth tightly.  But the protest was to no avail.

The Colonel took one throbbing nipple between two strong fingers, slowly pinching it harder and harder.  In a moment, she gasped in pain and dutifully opened her mouth as wide as she could.  He slid the brutal device easily in between her parted lips.  She stiffened as he adjusted the twin plates, holding her tongue motionless and squeezing it tightly between them.  Then the straps were buckled snugly over and behind her head and beneath her chin.  Her nasal moan of misery brought a pleased smile to the Colonel's face.

Roger moved to the Colonel's side.  "Another notch of the jaw-strap, Sir?  It will improve her bite on the gag, I believe."  The Colonel nodded.  Roger made the adjustment, tightening the strap so that Lady Brank had to bite down even harder on the gag.  As soon as he was done, she threw her head violently from side to side.  But the frantic effort did nothing to relieve the gag's punitive grip, nor the humiliation of wearing it.

Colonel Fettering stroked her heaving breasts again.  "Now that we won't have to listen to your childish complaints, my dear, I think it is time for the nipple-cones."  As her eyebrows arched in horror, he said mockingly, "Surely you did not expect us to ignore your generous frontal equipment, Lady.  Lovely spheres like these should be utilized whenever possible to enhance a woman's bondage -- and yours will serve perfectly for that purpose."  He cupped her breasts in his hands and bounced them gently.  Her nasal grunt of protest was ignored.

Roger left the room, only to return a moment later with an ornate wooden box in one hand.  He opened it and held it out for her to see.  A quick intake of breath signaled her recognition of its dreadful contents.

Then the Colonel took his victim's left breast in one hand, squeezing it so that the nipple was thrust out through the circle formed by his thumb and forefinger, and accepted one of the clamps from Roger.  It was a hollow cone of burnished steel, less than two inches in diameter at the open end, which had a circlet of tiny metal teeth around its inner rim.  She was well aware of how it worked: after being placed snugly over the tip of her breast, the ring set at the tip of the cone would be turned to tighten the teeth, making them constrict about the base of the tender bud until it could not be pulled off. 

That was exactly what happened, and soon she was shuddering at the sensation of having both breasts adorned with these bizarre ornaments.  Her shudders grew more agitated as Roger approached with a forked leash.  Despite her frantic grunts and moans, the twin ends of the least were quickly snapped to the clamps' rings and she felt an experimental tug at her breasts.  The pain was not as sharp as she had feared, and it had an erotic undertone she could not escape.  More memories welled up and tears glistened on her cheeks.

Then, while her legs were still spread apart by the ankle chains, Roger used the pulleys to lower her arms and then removed the cuffs.  "Elbows back might be a bit much for you just yet," he mused, "But a pair of hinge-cuffs will help loosen your shoulder muscles."  He dropped her leash and motioned for her to bring her hands together behind her.

With a soft nasal sigh, Lady Brank obeyed.  She stiffened when she felt the cold steel of the cuffs about her wrists, and grunted as they were locked to hold her hands immovably palm to palm at her derriere.  The hinge linking them allowed her to move her forearms a little, but not her hands. 

"Single fist, please," Roger said firmly, and she dutifully laced her fingers together.  The leather mitt that he pulled up over her hands was fastened to the cuffs and then steadily tightened with several thin straps. When he was satisfied, her two hands were compressed into one compact ball, making them entirely useless.

Next, her legs were freed, only to be linked by 12 inches of heavy chain between new and thicker ankle cuffs.  "Shall we take a tour of the slave quarters now, Lady?" Roger asked.  A firm tug at her breast-leash encouraged her to follow him and the Colonel.  He maintained the tension, forcing her to move awkwardly with the short, mincing steps that her hobble required.  With each step, the bodystrap seemed to cut more harshly up into her crotch.

The trio left the chaining room and headed toward the elevator in the main hallway.  Its slow descent to the underground level where the Colonel's girls were kept gave Roger the opportunity to run one hand slowly and teasingly over his prisoner's bare asscheeks.  She did her best to ignore it, but a subtle roll of her hips indicated her grudging approval of the sensation.

A guard, Annette, was on duty when the door opened.  She came quickly to attention.  "Ah, Colonel," she said, eying the men's prisoner, "So this is the new one you told us about.  I can see that you have her well in hand.  Er, have you told her what to expect?"

"I should think she has a pretty good idea," he answered.  "After all, she had her own stable of girls for several years."  Roger jerked gently at his prisoner's leash and she dutifully shuffled after him into the broad subterranean hallway.  Her eyes were wide with apprehension.

"Is Brenda still in discipline?" he asked. 

The guard nodded.  "Yes, Sir, you sentenced her to three days, so she's still in the routine.  This is her second day.  I know that Val took her to the treadmill an hour ago.  Shall I escort you?"

The Colonel shook his head.  "I know the way, thank you."  Then he said to Roger, "You'll be interested in how we discipline naughty girls here.  I've drawn up a series of different, uh, experiences that they must go through, with the more severe ones at the end of the series.  Brenda was very slow to obey me the other day, and saucy to boot.  Therefore, she is undergoing only the first six stages.  If she'd been physically rebellious, she would have been sentenced to all ten of them."

"Lady Brank will find this wonderfully instructive, I'm sure," Roger replied.  "Shall we look in on her?"

The Colonel moved ahead of Roger and showed the way to the disciplinary section.  They reached the end of the hallway, where he halted.  After a moment's search for the right key, he unlocked the heavy door and opened it.

The dimly lit room was large, and a mechanical whirring sound reached their ears.  At the far end of the room stood the treadmill, and the slavegirl Brenda was indeed at work on it.  Her open-mouthed breathing was labored.

As they drew closer, Lady Brank gave a shuddering moan of sympathy when she saw how the girl was positioned.  One end of the treadmill was raised, and from a post at its higher end there were chains were fastened to her breast-rings.  They were too short to allow her to fall on the treadmill, so the only way she could keep them slack was to keep walking up the moving incline.  Any pause to rest would result in her sliding back down toward its lower end, thus tightening the chains and inflicting severe pain in her high, full bosoms.

A twelve-inch hobble limited her to short, quick steps, and a single-glove held her arms elbow-to-elbow behind her.  Lady Brank noted with horror that the girl was also fitted with a U-plug in her lower orifices, surely guaranteeing that every step would bring tantalizing torment.  No wonder she was breathing so hard!

The Colonel stepped to the side of the treadmill and threw a lever.  The mill's turning came to a sharp halt, and Brenda almost walked into the post ahead of her before she could stop herself.  In a breathy whisper, she said, "Oh, thank you, Sir."  She bowed her head and moaned her weariness.

"Brenda," he told her, "I want you to tell your new stablemate here, the former Lady Brank, about what you've been through since you were sentenced to the discipline.  Give her all the details."

When the girl paused, trying to gain her breath, the Colonel added grimly, "I can always extend your time if you don't show a real willingness to cooperate."  Brenda nodded her head vigorously and answered, "O-oh, uh, I w-want to cooperate, Sir!"  She swallowed hard and then addressed Lady Brank.

"I've been sentenced to three days of discipline, you see, because I was a very bad slavegirl.  For the first morning, I was placed in the low stock with my neck and wrists locked into it at the level of my waist so that I had to bend at right angles from my hips.  Then my legs were spread wide apart with a hamperbar between my ankles.  This left my bottom very exposed, and both the guards and any slavegirl with enough freedom were expected to use me as they saw fit."  She stopped and took a deep breath.

"All morning," she continued, "they paddled me, or felt me, or poked things into me, and did anything else that they thought would punish me.  Er, one guard hung weights from my breast-rings, and another stuck a cinnamon stick into my puss.  It stung terribly!"

"Go on," Colonel Fettering said softly.

"Y-yes, Colonel," Brenda answered quickly.  "Er, after the stock, I had to spend the afternoon doing exercises.  At first, I was hitched to a cart loaded with heavy stones.  The guards made me pull it around the courtyard ten times."  She paused, shuddering, only to hear the Colonel ask, "And just how were you hitched to the cart, girl?"

She took a deep breath and continued in a weak voice, "Uh, I was...I was hitched to the cart by straps from my wrists.  You see, my elbows were hooked over a bar across the back of my waist, and the straps were fastened to my wrists and pulled down and back between my legs.  It was, ah, very hard work, Sir!"

"Any additional details?" the Colonel prodded.  Brenda nodded slowly.  "Oh, yes Sir, there was a two-foot hamperbar locked between my ankles.  That made it even harder to pull the cart.  And, uh, after I'd pulled it around the courtyard twice, the guard put a discipline helmet on me and shut the eye-holes.  I-I couldn't see where I was going, so she had to guide me with her whip."

Lady Brank closed her eyes, imagining the scene.  Although she recoiled from the punishments the girl described, she could not escape the erotic arousal that the detailed account induced.  Surely, she thought, she could certainly expect similar treatment in the near future.

Roger spoke up.  "And how do you like the U-plug today, girl?" 

Brenda bowed her head and said softly, "It, ah, it makes me feel very strange, Sir.  Its rods are awfully thick, and awfully long as well.  It is like, well, like being skewered on a double spit."  She paused, shook her head dolefully, and then added, "It would excite me, Sir, if I weren't so tired."

"Mmmm," Roger replied, "perhaps if they were even longer and thicker, your exhaustion wouldn't matter.  Would you agree?"

The girl took a deep breath, wondering how to answer him without bringing more trouble on herself.  Finally she said softly, "Oh, no, Sir, I don't know if I could move if they were any bigger!  Every step I take now makes the rods move inside me...I can sense the pressures all the time... sometimes I think they will excite me, but then I must keep moving and moving and moving, and the thought fades away."  She looked at him shyly, eyebrows tilted in despair.  "Oh, Sir, if you could just remove it!"

Colonel Fettering harrumphed.  "You'll wear the plug until your guard removes it, girl.  I can allow no deviation from the discipline program."  He turned to Roger and added, "But I will see that it is in the guards' instructions that the next time Brenda is naughty, she will wear a larger-size U-plug.  Then we'll learn whether it has the effect you just predicted."

Without another word, he threw the lever that started the treadmill again, and Brenda almost lost her balance before she was able to begin her enforced march once more.  Looking warily at the post to which her breast-leash was fastened, she timed her paces until she could maintain her position on the downward-sliding tread and avoid painful tension on the leash.

Roger gave a quick tug at Lady Brank's leash, bringing a grunt of surprised pain from her, and led her toward the door.  "Brenda's punishment is getting boring, Colonel.  What else can we show our guest?"

In the hallway, the Colonel locked the door they have just come through and said, "Hmm, umm, the exercise room might be instructive.  Yes, let's go and watch the girls getting into shape.  This way."  The Colonel started off at a brisk pace, requiring Roger to keep his prisoner moving as rapidly as she could.  Struggling to obey the demands of her leash, she moaned weakly in response to its painful pull at her nipples.

They reached their destination before long.  The room was large, and in the center seven slavegirls stood at attention, well apart from each other. Four guards moved among them with quirts at the ready.  Lady Brank blinked in sympathy for their charges.

She noted that each girl wore a snug tongue-clamp gag and a tight-cinched corselet that anchored her bodystrap but was otherwise nude and free of restraint.  However, each one wore heavily weighted cuffs on her wrists and ankles.  At a guard's command, each girl slowly raised her arms stiffly to shoulder height and tried to hold them there.  The heavy cuffs, however, made this a particularly demanding pose which none of them could sustain for very long. 

When a girl could no longer hold her arms up, she was rewarded with the stinging cut of a quirt across her buns as her arms fell to her sides.  A series of pained grunts thus ensued.  Only the girl who was last to surrender to the force of gravity was spared this corrective measure. 

Then the girls were required to jump in place, first with their feet together, then wide apart, in an exercise universally known as the "jumping jack."  A guard counted the cadence loudly.  Their breasts bounced generously and it was obvious that the longer the exercise lasted, the harder it was for them to continue.  The command to halt came when they came down with legs apart, and two of the girls were singled out for an upward quirt-slash between their thighs.  High-pitched nasal squeals were evidence of their misery.

Following this, the panting victims were ordered to skip about in a circle, swinging their arms as they struggled to move their weighted feet in the proper way.  It was not a very skillful demonstration and, not unexpectedly, the guards' whips failed to improve their targets' grace.

When that exercise was concluded, Roger said, "Colonel, do you suppose we could get some of those weighted cuffs for our new friend?"  The Colonel replied, "Why, of course.  Lady Brank will be ever so grateful for your thoughtfulness!" 

He signaled to one of the guards, and soon two of the punitive cuffs were locked about each of the unhappy prisoner's legs just above her hobble-cuffs.  She could sense immediately that they must weigh at least five pounds each -- and that moving behind Roger would be more difficult now than ever.

"Two of them will be for your wrists later," the Colonel explained.  "To help your stamina, we'll run you through some exercises after we get back to your cell."  He stopped and grunted.

"Heh, I forgot!  You haven't seen your new cell yet, have you?  Well, I suppose that should be first on our list of where to go next."  He nodded to Roger.  "If you'll persuade the lovely lady to come along, we'll go there right away."  Roger gave a gentle tug at Lady Brank's leash, bringing another grunt of misery from her, and she began to shuffle along behind him.  She'd been right -- the heavy new cuffs made moving much more laborious.

The cells were on a lower level, so they headed for the elevator again.  And once inside it, Roger again had the opportunity to stroke his prisoner's pertly rounded buns.  At first he ran his fingernails lightly over each one, and then his fingers cupped and kneaded them teasingly while she bit down on her gag in an effort not to react to the stimulation.  She was shivering by the time the elevator door opened.

Despite her involuntary arousal, Lady Brank's eyes widened at the sight of a hallway lined with barred cells.  They were larger than she expected, each one obviously able to accommodate several large bondage devices as well as the usual cot.  In each cell also was a central post to which its occupant could be secured in a variety of ways, and there were several pulleys at the ceiling as well.  She shook her head warily at the prospect.  As a Mistress, she had always been interested in new types of restraint, and she could not avoid thinking now of the variety of novel, demanding poses that could be imposed on her own body in such a cell. 

Several of the cells were occupied, even though it was well past breakfast.  It was clear that each of these unhappy girls was undergoing some sort of discipline.  Roger halted her outside one cell. 

"Colonel, can you enlighten us as to this young lady's predicament?" he asked.  His new employer harrumphed and replied, "This is Suzie.  She tried to steal some extra breakfast this morning from the girl next to her, but a guard saw her.  As you can see, we do not take such criminal acts lightly."

Indeed, Suzie seemed to be paying a fearful price for her sin.  Lady Brank could see that she was monumentally uncomfortable, doubled over and suspended ass-up from a ceiling pulley by three coarse ropes.  Two of them came down at her sides to be fastened beneath her waist and the third joined them from between her legs so that her fanny was up in the air and her arms and legs hung down toward the floor. 

Worse, the poor girl wore steel no-bend braces on her knees and elbows, holding her limbs rigid, and weights were fastened to her wrists and ankles so that she could not raise them for more than a few seconds at a time.  Gagged, of course, she could only moan her misery.

In another cell, the occupant was standing and forced to bend forward from her hips because she was secured to a vertical dildo-gag atop a post that was only as high as her waist.  Straps about her head guaranteed her continuing "meal" of the unpleasant device, which was clearly thrust deep into her throat, and with the rear end of her bodystrap pulled up taut by a ceiling pulley she had no chance to bend her knees.

Lady Brank observed the prisoner with a kind of erotic empathy, sorry for her plight and yet aroused by the awareness of how she must feel in this particular pose.  She noted the way the girl's legs were jacked apart by a hamperbar fixed between her ankles, and shivered at the sight of how the trembling prisoner's back-bound wrists were pulled high above her hips by another pulley.

They moved along the hallway until they reached a cell whose barred door was wide open.  "This will be your principal residence for some time to come, Lady -- who knows how many years?" the Colonel told her.  "Number Seven, I think it is.  I imagine you'll be saying to yourself, 'Seven is heaven' before very long.  Yes, my guards have many ways to make a girl feel right at home.  And you'll find out soon enough -- you may count on that."

Lady Brank's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the cell.  The prospect of spending countless future evenings in it, secured in God knows how many different yet demanding ways, raised a cloud of despair in her mind -- even though that cloud was illuminated by an occasional flash of erotic anticipation. 

She shivered, and Roger flipped her leash teasingly in response.  When she turned warily toward him, he said, "We know that the submissive part of you will be thrilled by what is done to you here in this cell, even while you hate yourself for enjoying it."  Grinning at the Colonel, he added, "And you can be certain that we will do all that we can to help your submissive self win out over the dominatrix that you thought you were." 

The Colonel nodded his approval and added, "As you are well aware, Lady, the steady, sophisticated combination of stern restraint and artistic sexual provocation can turn even the most resistant woman into a darling slavegirl who just begs for more and more debasement.  I believe that we can work such magic with you.  Don't you agree?"

The prisoner was silent, naturally, because of her gag, but bowed her head in reluctant acceptance of his argument.  Recalling her own experiences in bondage, Lady Brank had little reason to think that she would be able to resist such a devilish program.  In fact, she found a portion of her mind that welcomed the prospect with lusty, throbbing enthusiasm.

"Ah, well!" the Colonel grunted.  "Now that we're here, let's see if the guards have installed Lady Brank's, er, wardrobe yet.  They were given the measurements this morning."  He looked at his new acquisition.  "You were measured, you know, before you woke up this morning.  Handsome figure you have, m'dear!"

Roger twitched her leash, warning her of a command to come, and then led her into the cell.  While she stood beside him, he opened the door of a large cabinet set against the rear wall to reveal a generous array of bondage equipment inside.  Lady Brank had no difficulty identifying most of the items, but the sheer number and variety of chains, cuffs, straps, gags, helmets, clamps, hamperbars, and other devices made her snort with amazement.  Why, she could go weeks without being secured in the same outfit twice!

Her former assistant knelt down to unfasten the weighted cuffs from about her legs so he could add them to the cabinet's collection.  "These will be ready for you when needed," he told her.  "I expect an exercise program will be worked out for you in short order, and that's when these will be used."  He nodded with satisfaction and continued, "You'll be amazed at how much more stamina and energy you'll have after a few months of steady exercise."

She took a deep breath, as if to ready herself for the strenuous activities that would be demanded of her.  As her clamp-tipped breasts swelled outward, Roger took advantage of their exposure to run his fingernails beneath their ripe curvature.  Lady Brank shivered at the stimulus and could not prevent herself from leaning forward to encourage the tantalizing assault.  Roger chuckled and dropped the end of her leash so that he could use both hands. 

After more of the manual onslaught, his victim moaned her surrender and twisted her shoulders to swing her bosoms back and forth under Roger's busy fingers.  The Colonel, amused by her obvious arousal, said, "Roger, old fellow, perhaps the right dildo can help our new friend solve her problem, don't you think?"

Roger, continuing his labors, answered, "I'm sure you're right, Sir, but do we want her to climax right away?  Instead, let's remove her gag and listen to her beg for relief."  With a chuckle, the Colonel agreed, and Roger ceased his explorations just long enough to loosen Lady Brank's gag straps and then to pull the cruel device from her mouth.  She gasped and licked her lips before clamping her jaws shut.  Damned if she would give them the satisfaction!

But Roger resumed his calculated manipulation of her bosoms, and his companion went behind her in order to stroke and knead her tensing asscheeks.  In a few moments, she gave up the battle and began to babble her frantic need for release. 

"Oooh, aahhh, p-please stop this t-torment, Masters!  No, no, give me something in my c-cunt, oh please-please-PLEEEEASE?"  She threw her head back and forth while at the same time forcing her heaving breasts forward and trying a clumsy series of hip-thrusts.

Without words, the two men moved their victim to stand with her back to the heavy post in the center of her cell and after freeing her wrists quickly lashed her to it with straps at her throat and waist.  The Colonel lowered a pair of manacles from a ceiling pulley and used them to draw her arms up above her head.  Then Roger brought another cord of braided leather thongs, ran it about the back of her waist, and pulled the loose ends forward.  He drew them down and then back between her legs and tied them behind the post through a D-ring so that she could not lower her body at all.  Her awkward cries and grunts were ample evidence of her continuing arousal.

Next, Roger freed Lady Brank's ankles and then bent one leg sharply so that he could bind the heel up against her buttock.  As soon as he had treated the other leg the same way, she was suspended entirely by the straps through her crotch, one on either side of her puss.  And as soon as her bodystrap was removed, she was open to the monstrous hard-rubber dildo that the Colonel had selected from her equipment cabinet. 

He held it up for her inspection.  "Is this what you want, shameless hussy?" he asked tauntingly.  "You must ask for it very politely if you expect to get it."  He rubbed its thick, blunt head slowly across her trembling lips.  "What do you say now, Lady?"

Eyes wide with excitement, Lady Brank stuttered and then gasped, "Oh, God -- please, Colonel, put it in me.  I beg you!  Aaaah, I'm going to explode!   Please, please!  Ohhh, I need it, I need it!"

The Colonel nodded and thrust the monstrous rod in between her legs.  She did her best to thrust her hips forward, but of course her bondage prevented that.  He rubbed the tip across her mons veneris, making it quiver a bit, and she gave a hoarse grunt of raw lust.  But then he removed the dildo.  Her disappointed "Ahhhhh" brought a broad smile to his lips.

"Actually, dear Lady," he explained soberly, "it's probably been so long since you've had anything this large in your body that it would be dangerous to slip it in right away."  Shaking his head in mock sympathy for her obvious frustration, he went on, "We must take plenty of time in readying you for such an invasion, no matter how anxious you are for it right now."

He turned briefly to Roger and said, "Do you suppose there's some itching crème in that drawer?  I believe our greedy friend here will benefit from having some smeared around her nips."  Roger soon came up with a tube of the awful stuff and took its cap off.

"May I have the honor?" he inquired politely.  "But certainly, my man," the Colonel responded.  "But be careful not to get any of it on your own fingers -- it can be nasty!"

Roger approached their helpless victim and touched the mouth of the tube beneath her right breast.  She jerked at the sensation, and then moaned as he slowly painted a circle of the yellow goo around her nipple.  He repeated the operation on her left breast, grinning at her horrified expression.  Before very long, she sucked in a deep breath between her teeth and let it out in a long, drawn-out ahhhhh... 

Then she croaked, "My God, that stuff is eating me alive!  Oh, please, Sir, wipe it off me before I go mad!  Yaahhh, the itching, the i-i-t-CHING...!"  Her vain attempts to bend her head down to her pulsing bosoms, accompanied by strangled pleas and curses, brought chuckles of amusement from both men.

The sight of this gorgeous woman writhing under her body's carnal demands brought grins of pleasure to her tormentors.  Her yowls of frustration and her frantic efforts to assuage the maddening aggravation of her jouncing breasts only increased their enjoyment. 

(to be continued)