Copyrighted material, not for those under 18 years of age.
Closing time for the Mall was almost there so Glen decided to cut short their inspection and return the next day. They found a box containing the head cage on a table. Glen wondered aloud how it got into the apartment.
"Master, you have a cook, a butler and two maids to take care of your suite. They are trained to remain out of sight, which is why you havenít seen them. Probably the butler accepted delivery for you."
A note was attached to the box. He read it, pausing when he reached the words, "No Charge."
"Call the vendor and tell him we either pay for it or return it. Iím not about to accept a bribe before I even sign up."
His anger cooled slowly as Becky made the call. She reported, "He apologized and will have a bill on your desk by morning."
Glen grunted. "Already testing me, trying to see how far they can go."
"Master, itís time to dress for dinner. Dr. Saslo has invited the department heads."
Glen showered and then allowed Becky to dress him in the formal suit and tie. Finished, he walked over to the table and opened the box. "You embarrassed me in public today. You need a lesson in curbing your horniness to the proper time and place. An inspection trip is not the place to exhibit your hormones."
"Master, a slave begs your punishment for her lack of control."
Glen held the head cage up, admiring the workmanship. He glanced down and noticed there were more pieces in the box. He grabbed a handful and laid them out on the table. Each one seemed more terrible than the first. They were metal gags in a variety of forms, the most unpleasant of mouth-stuffers. Both remembered the face of the girl with the plain bar in her mouth, drooling uncontrollably.
"Pick the one you would least like to chew on. Your choice will affect the severity of your punishment."
Becky didnít like the looks of any of them. She wavered between a studded tongue depressor and a bar with a spiked ball. Reluctantly she picked up the ball and handed it to Glen. He held it before her eyes and tested one of the spikes, almost drawing blood from his finger. She visibly winced as he pressed on the points.
Glen opened the cage, flipping the face mask upward on its hinge and opened the collar. He installed the ball, redundantly locking it in place, since once the mask was in place there was nowhere for the ball to go. He closed the collar, then the hasp at the bottom of the mask. An overlarge padlock was furnished to finish locking her head in the bands of steel. A sharp stud screwed through the frame, pressing upward on her chin.
"You will kneel beside me at dinner. You will not make a sound, you will not move. You will hold a cup at your mouth to catch your drool. Disobey and you will be rewarded by more pressure to close your mouth."
"Embarrass your Master again and he will visit you in the Discipline Barracks often enough to ensure that you remember your stay very vividly. You no doubt have heard on the grapevine the details of some of the Ďspecialí treatment for disobedient slaves. You, as a ranking slave will endure Ďextremeí treatment. Pain slut or not, you will not find the slightest thrill of arousal in what they will do to you. Understood?"
With difficulty she nodded. Movement hurt. The automatic response curled her tongue into the ball, its sharpness reminding her she was gagged.
As a final touch he removed her leash from her collar and attached it to the ring at the top of her head, a signal to all who saw her that she was undergoing punishment. It was a little thing, but it stood out in the life of a woman whose days were spent totally naked at the pleasure of any Master who saw her.
Becky heeled him, barely able to see between the steel straps that hugged her face. The pull of her leash on the top of the cage made it move, accenting the spikes that filled her mouth. The stud pressing her chin moved with every step, climbing from a minor annoyance to a major discomfort. The torture was subtle, but effective. Becky was making new vows of obedience to herself with every fresh breath.
Dr. Saslo greeted him as two more men walked up, adding to the three already near the table. More came through the door in the next few moments, completing the dinner party. Dr. Saslo pointed at Becky. "Is there a problem?"
"Nothing I canít handle. She decided to outdo the exhibits at the steel shop. Rubbing her thighs together like she hadnít been fucked in a month. Sheís touring the Discipline Barracks with me tomorrow, to get a preview of the next level. "
"Hmmn, unfortunately slaves are not allowed inside. We get enough exaggerations from the ones who are sent there."
"With all due respect sir, this is a special case. I was publicly embarrassed by a ranking slave."
"I canít promise anything, but Iíll see what I can do. Would you settle for blindfolding her?"
"Reluctantly, yes. Iíd rather show her what could happen to her, but listening to unexplained sounds might do the trick."
"Fine. Right now itís time to eat."
The dinner went smoothly. Dr. Saslo detailed Glenís conditional acceptance of the job, to applause. The diners remained at the table, talking about the operation of the castle. Glen had a lot of questions and each department head in turn was quizzed. All seemed to know their jobs. Glen brought up the orders he had given on pricing the houses. There was a general tide of agreement as they could readily see the advantages to speed up sales.
Becky would have given an arm or leg for a speedup and an end to the conversations. She dutifully listened to all the comments and responses, knowing she would be expected to put them into a computer file for her Master. Her concentration was being steadily eroded by the cage. Her cup of drool was more than half full, but she dared not swallow. Trying had cost her punctures in her upper jaw and her mouth was in flames.
When the meeting at last broke up, Dr. Saslo repeated his promise to try to get Becky into the barracks. "Do your best," was Glenís response.
He lifted Beckyís leash, pulling her head upright. "On your toes," he ordered. She tiptoed from the room and across the main hall to his suite. He directed her to the bedroom and onto the bed. He secured her ankles and then looped her manacle chain and the head cage chain over a hook above her head. He left her, lying flat without a pillow, to ponder her fate, while he amused himself with a selection of tapes taken from the security system.
When he came back he was nude. He walked into the closet and got a fresh pair of pajamas. Then he joined Becky on the bed. His fingers soon wandered to an erect nipple which he mistreated for several minutes before moving to her other nipple. Her breathing became noisy as he skillfully took her mind off the cage and continued his erotic mauling of her nipples. When her hips began to dance he took off the pajamas and knelt between her legs.
"You did a good slave fuck in the stocks. I expect an even better one. I will be disappointed if your mouth doesnít suffer. I donít like to be disappointed."
He let the statement fill her mind as he slowly leaned forward, using her breasts as anchors, his stiff cock piercing her like a hot knife into butter. He reached bottom. She contracted all her muscles and tossed her body and his into the air. She lifted again, meeting him as he came down. Unconsciously she clenched her jaw and had to stifle the scream of pain.
She stayed with him to the very last, feeling his juices spurt into her depths, then she climaxed again and again as he continued to meet her in midair. At last he stopped with a groan. She matched it, sated for the moment. Her mouth and tongue were on fire. Glen unlocked the mask and collar. Lifting her with one arm he pulled the cage away, allowing the ball to come out of her mouth. It dragged across her lip, leaving a trail of red lines. She winced, and winced again as the stud scraped across her chin.
Glen reached in the drawer and pulled out a flashlight. He shined it into her mouth. Red dots were everywhere. Two were seeping thin crimson. Her tongue was swelling. Satisfied, he grunted and turned off the light. "Do you have something to say?"
She tried twice to form words. The third time she croaked, "A slave thanks you for punishing her and showing her the error of her ways." She swallowed painfully. Glen got up and got a glass of water. He fed it to her in short sips. She smiled through her pain and croaked her thanks.
Dr. Saslo didnít appear for breakfast. Beside Glenís† plate was a note.
"Work is piling up on your desk.
A not-too-subtle hint, but Glen realized he deserved it.
Concentrating on other matters had left no time to inspect his new office. At the moment his concern was Becky. She had a near-terminal case of sore mouth. She very gingerly ate a soft egg and several cups of coffee. Glen had inspected her again and found most traces of the spiked ball were gone, but the soreness remained.
With breakfast out of the way, Becky directed him to his office. He opened the door, which already had his name on it! The outer office was impressive. Glen was impressed. He couldnít recall a client with this opulent an office.
Guarding the door to his inner office was a tall thin slave with almost black hair. She wore a brown belt to match her job as receptionist and clerk. She prostrated herself and kissed Glenís shoes. "Master, I am Jeanne, your receptionist and clerk."
Glen walked into the inner office. There were two desks, one of which took the eyes away from anything else. It was a masterpiece of wood, stone and chrome. The other desk, a fourth the size, matched on a much smaller scale. The slave, also a brown belt, came out from behind the desk, heels clicking on the parquet floor. She sailed to the ground to kiss Glenís feet and introduced herself as "Sara Mae, your personal secretary."
He called Jeanne in from the outer office and lined the three slaves up. "Raise your right hands and repeat after me:" "I, slave ............... swear that I will never reveal any of the information that comes in or out of this office to anyone, for any reason, pledging my life to my Master."
Satisfied, he sent Jeanne back to her desk and he walked behind his desk, discovering a well padded recliner-style office chair.
Sara Mae hovered over him, anxious to please. He sifted through the foot high stack in his In Box and told Sara Mae how he wanted each handled. A small handful went onto the bare expanse of his desk. Once the pile was sorted he reached for the small pile, which required his personal attention. Three required phone calls. Two more were dictated to Sara Mae, who could write shorthand faster than he could think. The last was a real problem.
He sent Sara Mae to get Jeanne, and replace her for a few minutes at the outer desk. Jeanne came in, her face showing stark fear.
He tossed a document onto the desk in front of her. It was a Security report.
"You just took a loyalty oath, but you had already violated your† provisional oath when you were assigned to my office. You were taped bragging about your new position, working for the General Manager and talking about a relationship with me that was pure fantasy. Do you intend to violate my loyalty oath the way you violated your provisional oath?"
Jeanne was on her stomach on the floor in a flash. "Master, a slave admits her fault. It will not happen again."
"To insure obedience and as punishment for your serious lapse in judgement Iím assigning you as an inmate of the Discipline Barracks for seven days. You will make arrangements with the pool for your temporary replacement. You will also relinquish your brown belt for a period of three months."
For a long moment the only response was Jeanneís sob. Finally she forced out the words, "Master, a slave thanks you for her punishment."
The other two women stood in place. Both wanted to comfort Jeanne, but neither was willing to risk censure or possibly even punishment for encouraging her.
In five minutes Opal, the replacement, arrived. While the three watched he questioned her, "Have you spoken to anyone about your temporary appointment here?"
"No, Master. I had no time."
"You will take a loyalty oath, as the others did."
He administered the oath and sent her to her new desk. He nodded to Sara Mae and she called Security. In less than five minutes two security guards arrived and took Jeanne into custody. One unlocked her manacles, then chained her wrists high behind her shoulders. They removed the brown belt and gave it to Glen. "No privileges of rank in the DB," one remarked. Glen looked pointedly at Becky who immediately flushed. This was much too close for comfort.
Jeanne was made to knee walk to the waiting electric car. She was seated and promptly locked in a cage that encircled her upper body. The motor hummed and the car disappeared around the corner.
Opal took it all in, mouth agape. It was the first time she had ever witnessed an arrest by Security. She had heard the many stories of the Barracks, but only half believed them because of the outright cruelty with which inmates reportedly were punished. Now, she wasnít so sure.
Although Glen was upset that he had a discipline problem before he was even sworn in, he was pleased at the opportunity to teach both Becky and Sara Mae a lesson that would warn them away from similar lapses. Women were born to gossip and he recognized that it was a serious problem in a highly sensitive job like his. He was anxious to convince both of them that it was in fact a problem, not innocent back fence ramblings.
There was a discrete tone, which Sara Mae recognized as the phone. She answered and then pointed to Glen. He punched a button and found Dr. Saslo on the other end. "I pulled some rank for you. The compromise is that you can take her through the Ďspecialí area but since she is a candidate for the Ďextremeí area† she will have to be blindfolded and of course restrained when you go in there. But, youíll find the Ďspecialí area is scary enough to make her straighten up."
Glen was watching Becky as she knelt out of the way. She suspected she was the topic of the call and felt Glenís eyes on her, although she dared not look up.
Dr. Saslo queried, "Is your new office to your satisfaction?"
"I could play polo on this desk. Rather large."
"To fit the man and the job. Nothing but the best. Are you Okay with your staff?"
"I had to send the receptionist to the DB for a week. Sheís a blabbermouth - or was. I expect a week will change her attitude. Sara Mae is a peach. Must have been hard to recruit with that much experience."
"Oh, weíve got two or three others in the pool that are equally as talented. Personal secretaries burn out pretty rapidly so we keep a good reserve stock. They are, for the most part, true gluttons for punishment. Sara Mae for example likes to be strung up and whipped at least once a week. Weíll take care of it if youíre Ďtied upí but I assume youíre ready to charge back her typos."
Glen laughed. "Iím always available to relieve tension and stress."
"Iím sure she hasnít shown you your private dungeon. Itís the door on the right hand wall. She probably needs a touching up for neglecting her duties. Get her off on the right foot, and all that. Oh, and the walls are soundproof."
"Thanks. Iíll check into it." Glen hung up the phone, stood up and stretched. He ambled away from his desk, gradually aiming for the door Dr. Saslo had identified. Sara Mae had been busy but she caught his movement out of the corner of her eye. Glen reached the door and as expected, it was locked.† He also expected Sara Mae to be watching him. He looked straight at her and crooked his finger. She took two steps toward him, then remembered the key. Glen was tapping his foot in seeming impatience.
She hurried to the door and after a secondís fumbling found the keyhole. He swung the door open to find a small, high-ceilinged room. Two chains hung from concealed winches. A diagonal cross took up most of one wall. The other walls were loaded with equipment, one wall appointed for whips, quirts, slappers and other swingers.
"You were supposed to tell me about this. Iím told you look forward to a weekly session. Shall we have it right now to convince you not to withhold information from your Master?"
Sara Mae was torn in two directions. She seriously wanted to be whipped, but she was reluctant to admit that she had shirked her duty. Still, she knew she was guilty so she really had no choice. "Whatever pleases Master."
It wasnít the answer he wanted, but it would do. He lashed her wrists to the chain and raised her to tiptoe. He selected one of the upper tier whips, confident that she could take it. He held it before her eyes, watching them widen, calculating. He pressed it to her lips for a kiss, then made her lick the entire lengh.
"In your job, if you know something you tell me. You assess it, classify it as truth, rumor or whatever. You do not withhold any information. If you are horny, you tell me. When we are finished you will tell me why and how you want to be punished and I will see about accommodating you."
The first lash crossed her ass cheeks like a red hot wire. She made hurting noises.
A very chastened Sara Mae emerged from the small room some time later. She started to sit down at her desk, but thought better of it and remained standing. The welts of her punishment were clearly visible. Glen emerged right behind her, getting a birdís eye view of the damage he had done. He was not pleased. His chair wasnít even warm and he had already disciplined both his staff members, as well as Becky.
Opal was almost hiding behind her desk in the outer office, scared to even breathe. She had managed to set off a panic attack by convincing herself that she would be the next to visit the little room. She had been assigned to a job earlier where the staff was routinely whipped every day and assumed she was in a similar situation.
Becky was in nearly as bad shape. The fear that she felt from the other two women was getting to her. She had already felt Glenís wrath and was under the gun with Glenís threat to send her to the Barracks as well. Todayís visit loomed, inducing her own panic attack. What if Glen decided to leave her there?
Glen spent a few minutes getting acquainted with his desk, opening drawers and checking out the state of the art computer. He was well aware that Sara Mae was watching him like a hawk, ready to jump to fill his slightest need. He found the telephone directory, which listed every department and the name of the department head. Glen made sure it was where he could find it quickly as it contained valuable information to get him started on the right foot.
Two security guards came in. Opal scurried to the inner office to announce them. They were all business, quickly spotting Becky, kneeling in the corner. "Is this the prisoner?"
Glen started to explain, but decided to make it realistic. "Yes. I will accompany her."
Becky was hauled to her feet. Her manacles were removed and her arms pulled up behind her, almost to her collar. The chain between her ankle shackles was replaced and locked. The guard removed her red belt and handed it to Glen. He laid it on his desk and followed them out to the electric car. Just as with Jeanne they locked her in a cage. Glen stepped aboard and they were on their way.
One of the guards turned to him. "Normally we take them to the food court in the Mall and rape them in public, but our orders today are to bring you to the Barracks as quickly as possible."
The driver was taking his orders seriously. The car was moving at top speed and in a moment the siren wailed to clear the street ahead. Becky endured the stares of people as they passed, certain that they knew her fate. However, the sight of a restrained slave, locked in the cage was common enough to attract little more than passing interest. Slaves who saw her would have a different perspective. "There, but for the... "
As they rolled up to the main door Glen spotted two hanging cages on either side of the door, just as at the main gate. These cages were distinctly smaller and tighter than those at the main gate. Between them was a sign - "A slave in pain is a willing slave." Below it was the name - "Discipline Barracks" - that struck fear in every slaveís heart.
The guards opened the cage and lifted Becky bodily onto the ground. One of the men produced a clamp which he forced into Beckyís nostrils, then closed it on her septum. She winced, crying in protest, the pain bringing tears to her eyes. The guard snapped her leash onto the clamp and tugged. Beckyís eyes flew open as the clamp tightened. She stumbled in her chain trying to take the pressure off her sensitive nose.
"Iím Dwight, the warden of the Barracks." The man greeted Glen as he walked into the room. They shook hands. "Dr. Saslo tells me that you have warned your slave that because of her rank she will get the Ďsevereí area. We donít allow slaves to visit either section, but the doctor asked me to make an exception for you, since you will be the General Manager. I see my men have already restrained her. As you know, she will have to be blindfolded."
Glen thanked him. "I appreciate your making an exception. I donít normally pull rank but this was a special case. She is my personal assistant and I need total loyalty and absolute obedience. I had to send my receptionist down here this morning."
"Sheís already been publically raped by the guards and gone through indoctrination. Iíll point her out as we go through."
"This should make a good object lesson for this one."
Dwight agreed. "Iím sure seeing the inside of the Ďdreadedí Barracks will make her toe the mark. Before we go in there are a few things I need to explain. Each slave is assigned a trainer. He is responsible for the slave at all times. He will train the slave at once to beg rape, beg punishment and learn to use the key words Ďharderí and Ďvery hardí."
"The slave is forbidden to have an orgasm from the moment she comes through the door. We make the inmates specify their punishments and then beg for them. As you can imagine this has a tremendous psychological effect on them. For instance, we make the slave knee-walk to the wall, select a whip, crawl to her trainer and offer it to him with a plea to use it on her. They also learn to thank their trainer for the slightest thing, but especially for any punishment they give her. A serious punishment calls for a blow job or other sexual favor as thanks."
Dwight motioned one of the guards over, and Glen handed him Beckyís leash.† The guard shortened the chain until there was less than a foot between his hand and her nose. She sidled toward him to get some slack but got her nose jerked sharply for her troubles.
Dwight pointed to the guard. "This is the way we handle our inmates from the moment they come in. If they have a seven day sentence, they serve seven full days and nights. There are no rest periods or recreation."
He pressed a button and the door slid open, revealing a long narrow hallway. Lining it on both sides were slaves locked in a device called a number of names, one being ĎLittle Ease,í another ĎThe A Frame.í It consisted of a collar with a pivoted double bar attached. About a third of the way down, the inmatesí wrists were fixed in a pair of steel straps. At the bottom another pair held the ankles, forcing the slave to spread her legs awkwardly. Locked in the device, the first fifteen minutes were punishing. Beyond that it was torture.
As soon as they saw the men the yelling began.
"Fuck me, Master. Iím the best!"
"Any hole, Master. Please fuck me!"
"Iím the best cock sucker in the castle. Try me, Master!"
"Rape ME, Master. Fresh meat!"
"Chain me to the bed and torture me, Master."
The were trying to crowd away from the walls and close in on the men as they walked slowly down the line. Dwight shoved them aside with his foot. He didnít bother to speak to them. They already knew their fate if they failed to connect.
"How long do you keep them like this?"
"If they donít get screwed, up to 24 hours."
Dwight pulled his whistle out and blew it. The silence was instant. He looked up and down the hall. "Whoís been here longest?"
Everyone looked at one of the slaves. She nodded her head. "Master, I was the first inmate, the day the Barracks opened. That is nine months, three days and 10 hours."
"One year, Master, for attempting to strike a Master."
"Youíll try to hit him when you get out?"
"No, Master! I learned my lesson the first day in here. Each day has repeated that lesson. My Master supervises my punishments, ensuring that I am in constant pain."
Dwight dismissed her with a wave of his hand. The yelling resumed at once.
"We encourage the Masters to walk through the hall and pick a slave at random, ignoring their own slave. This adds to her punishment and reinforces our hold on her."
He opened a door. "This is one of our viewing chambers. We provide any possible comfort for the Master as he watches the trainer put his slave through the wringer." He laughed. "As it happens, thatís exactly what is happening to this particular slave."
The girl was sitting on a triangular wooden beam. "That in itself would have been punishment up to our standards, but her Master wanted more. She literally has her tits in a wringer. There are two rollers which are joined at the ends, with a heavy strap going around her back. The rollers are tied together by figure 8 loops at each end. When the crank is turned on one roller, it turns the other roller, tightens both rollers on her tits and pulls the rollers into her chest, all at the same time."
"As you can imagine, it hurts something fierce. Here. Iíll turn up the sound."
The girl we were watching tried to move her head, but it was clamped to the upright to which she was chained. With an effort she opened her mouth. "Please... Master... roll... them... harder... tighter."
Glen could see her body tense, knowing her pain was about to increase. She was unaware she was being watched. Her only hope of completing her sentence was to obey every rule.
He glanced at Becky. She was watching with pure horror on her face. Her shoulders wriggled slightly against her bonds as she unconsciously tried to move her hands to protect her breasts. Dwight saw it too. He looked at Glen, silently questioning. Glen nodded.
Dwight walked over to the kneeling slave. "Up!"
She jumped to her feet, accelerated by out and out fear.
Dwight manhandled her breasts, squeezing them between his powerful fingers, slapping her erect nipples. He chuckled, ominously. "Weíd have a field day with that pair of knockers."
Scared to death, Becky tried to back away. The nose clamp snubbed her to a halt, screaming.
Dwight watched her, a half smile on his face. "This is kindergarten. Wait until we get to the adult area." Becky shivered with fear.
They were again in a hallway. This time there was a row of cages down the center of the hall, more properly under the center of the hall. Glen looked down to see tiny individual cages. The slave in the first cage had her head pressed tightly against the bars that allowed them to walk on top of the cages.
Each occupant seemed to be in a different position. All were trying to find some relief from their narrow confines They could not sit up straight and could only lie in a fetal ball. "They are forbidden to lie down, except between midnight and five a.m. We flood the cages at five to give them their bath."
Glen paused for a moment at the fifth cage. He recognized Jeanne. She was still in the bonds attached to her at the office, with the addition of a gag. "Protested her rape," was Dwightís laconic explanation.
At the far end the cage lid was open and a slave with a heavy chain attached to her ankle was head first down into the cage. "Cleaning her cage... With her tongue."
Glen pictured the damage the concrete would do to a tender tongue and winced at the overly vivid picture. Becky was having mind pictures of her own and she was ready to break away and run. She knew it was not only stupid but the fall out would be catastrophic. She wondered if she could outlast the slave who was the first to come to this place of pain. At this point she was seriously considering suicide rather than to fall into the clutches of the warden.
In the next room were the inmates ísleeping quarters, used once they graduated from the cages. At a glance, Becky preferred the cages.
In one wall there was a series of holes, about waist high. Several were empty. The guard made sure that Becky had a good view, shining his flashlight deep into the tapering hole. Becky felt waves of claustrophobia wash over her. She knew the outcome. She would scream her guts out if the put her in a hole.
Dwight needed only a glance to confirm his suspicion that Becky was spooked by the hole. Glen was nodding even before the warden ordered her into the hole.
A cable with a steel band for her wrists was pulled from the hole and the band was bolted to her wrists. The winch gave her no chance to avoid the demonstration. There was no step, so she had to duck her head and lie on the concrete and wiggle frantically to keep up with the implacable winch.
Glen could see that the hole tilted down at a visible angle. Getting out - with a trainer impatiently using his whip to speed her - was going to be difficult. Dwight explained the tilt. "Discourages them from pissing the bed."† It would, indeed.
There was more. A hinged wooden plate locked around the protruding ankles when Becky was fully extended in the hole. The plate in turn was locked into eye hooks on the wall, locking Becky in the hole. From the position of her feet she was lying on her stomach. Dwight showed him a monitor attached to a night vision camera that watched her face.
As Becky felt the wood close about her ankles, joining her hobble chain, she began to panic in earnest. She couldnít hear the menís voices. She was certain that Glen had abandoned her or made some secret agreement that she be put through the program. But the fear... She started screaming.
Dwight smiled, his prognosis correct. This was only one of several tight spots inmates had to endure. Most were in the Ďsevereí area, but that was where she was headed.
He pressed a button on the wall. A muffled shriek came from in the hole. Becky was being buffeted by high pressure ice cold water. He watched a gauge and when the water was lapping at her chin he opened the drain.
He unhooked the wood plate, releasing her ankles and with Glenís help pulled her back out of the hole, scraping her skin raw. "After we drag them out the first time we inform them that they are supposed to turn over on their backs. Gives us a rule violation to punish."
Becky stood, shivering, dripping water. The guard was holding her short leash again but otherwise she was ignored.
After her demonstration, Becky pretty much lost interest in the sights and sounds of slaves being punished. She automatically kept her leash taut, seeming beyond pain. She shuddered every time her mind went back to that hole. She felt the whole weight of the building crushing her. She was adamant that they somehow tightened the hole as she was dragged into it. It was without question the worst attack of claustrophobia she had ever endured. The fact that she was in tight bondage seemed to double the effect.
They stopped at the door leading to the next area. Glen had been watching Becky suffer and decided that she had enough. "I think rather than blindfolding the slave Iíll leave her here."
"Sure. Iíll fix her up so she will be here when we get done."
A guard suddenly came through a door, wheeling a cage, Becky was unceremoniously shoved inside and the door was locked, Her leash was clipped to a top corner, forcing her to keep her head up at an awkward angle. She would not enjoy her respite.
There was no sign on the door or any indication that the Ďsevereí section lay behind it. Dwight opened the door.
The hall was again filled with slaves. This time each held a whip in her mouth. They waved them frantically, trying to attract attention. Dwight took the first whip and motioned for Glen. He accepted the whip and a seductive "Please whip me, Master. Hard."
He uncoiled the long whip and wrapped it twice around her torso, the tip slapping at the underside of one breast. She gasped, just short of a cry, "Thank you. Master."
Dwight set the pace, moving down the one side, slicing each one as he passed. Glen hurried to catch up, matching stroke for stroke. The howls of the slaves echoed back and forth through the hall.
In the first room they entered, slaves were installing one of their number in a body cage. The slave was squeezed into the tight cage and chained tightly.† The cage included a head cage, even more lethal looking than the one he had bought for Becky. He pictured her being the slave in the cage, expecting loud protests.
Not here. Protests in this area were brutally suppressed. The slave before them had complained about the bread and water fare, meal after meal.
"Sheís going to spend 48 hours in that cage. Then weíll haul her out and hang her on the front of the building for another 24 hours. I think sheíll have a much better appreciation of bread and water. "
The slaves finished, at the direction of the slaveís trainer. The caged girl had nothing free to move. Even her breathing was restricted enough to remind her constantly that she lived only through the mercy of her Master. Glen and Dwight walked up to her as they finished. They watched as a crane was used to lift the cage. It was dropped down into a hole barely big enough for the cage. The winch then lifted a 200 pound cover and placed it over the hole, where it was locked down. Glen could see several covers, so he assumed there were more holes in the floor.
The next room had a row of cots on both sides of the big room.
"We discovered a way to kill two birds. The slaves are brought in, chained to the bed and then we let in the male slaves from the National Prison. They get their rocks off and stay happy and we get the big numbers of rapes that are the hallmark of the Ďsevereí section. The inmates are in punishment helmets so they have no idea who is screwing them. Makes the remorse and guilt really strike home."
As they walked further into the depths of the Severe Section, Glen asked, " Whatís the average daily rape count, or donít you keep records?"
"Two questions. First, we try to keep the count at five or higher. Second, we keep very detailed records of rapes and forced blow jobs, and every other specific punishment and even go so far as to attach comments by the trainer on the inmateís reaction in each case. A copy goes to the inmateís master, or to the pool. We keep a copy so that in the very unlikely event that a slave is returned for a second session, we can home in on the more effective punishments weíve already† spotted."
"The reports are also used to select sessions to be recorded and sold, both in the shops in the mall and worldwide through a major porn distributor. The tapes and discs pay for this entire operation and return a tidy profit to the General Fund. And, before you ask, the masters sign off on the use of their slaves and get a free copy for their own enjoyment. The slaveís have no say as itís right in their contracts."
"Iíve noticed several pieces of equipment that I havenít seen before. Do you design and make your own?"
"We donít design, but we make suggestions based on our experience and need. We have a contract with the company that has the steel restraint store in the mall. They make them for us at a heavily discounted rate and then they can sell them, and we get a royalty on all their sales. We get state of the art equipment at a fraction of what weíd have to pay on the open market. Have you priced chain lately?"
"Youíre right, itís been going up steadily."
They entered a viewing room. In front of the one way glass a slave was bound securely to a massive wood frame. Her head was trapped in a wood-jawed vise that denied even the slightest movement. She had a dental gag in her mouth holding her jaw fully open.
"Another protester. She thinks we should treat the inmates Ďmore humanely.í She seems to have missed the point entirely."
As they watched, the slaveís trainer pulled a large scarf out of a pail of water. He let it drip for a moment and then dropped it over the girlís face. She grunted in protest, but went silent when she discovered that she didnít have any more air. Her fingers fluttered and clenched. Glen could see the thin cloth sag into the opening in the gag as she tried to draw a breath. The cloth clung to her nose, blocking any air from entering. She tried to cry out, but realized there wasnít any spare air for her protest.
The cloth, saturated with water, was virtually impervious to air. The slave could draw a breath through it but only by exerting every bit of her energy. The small quantity of air taunted her. The innocent looking scarf was denying her access to the breathable air around her. She was unable to relax, even for an instant. Once automatic, breathing became a conscious must-do chore.
The trainer poured water from a cup into the hollow in her gag. Her desperate quest for air aided in her own torture as the scarf was pulled into the top of her throat by her suction. She waggled her tongue, futilely trying to squeeze the water out of the cloth to gain precious air, defeating her own purpose as her saliva stuck to the cloth, literally water-proofing it.
The trainer poured more water into the hollow. The cloth slipped further into her throat, blocking her air supply completely. She panicked, throwing her body against almost no slack, her fingers visually demonstrating her agony. The trainer, experienced, waited until the last second before jerking the scarf out of her mouth and tossing it into the pail.
She drew in air in great gasps, noisy in the soundproof room. Her stomach revolted and she barely suppressed the urge to vomit. The trainer calmly watched her, idly playing with one of her half erect nipples. When she had calmed down, almost to normal, he pulled the scarf from the pail, let it drip and dropped it a second time on her face. She mewed in protest, conserving her air, knowing her trainer could keep this up indefinitely.
The second application was much like the first. An astute observer would have noted the slightest weakening of the quest for air. When the cloth plastered itself on the back of her throat her panic was equally strong, perhaps a bit stronger as her nerves spasmed in outright fear.
Dwight and Glen walked out of the viewing room. "Some inmates," said the warden, "can survive a dozen of those at one sitting. Most collapse after the third or fourth application. Itís an interesting throwback to the Inquisition, suggested by the inmateís master. I tried it, as I do all new punishments and I wanted out long before the scarf got to my throat. Itís going to be a regular practice from now on. Itís really amazing how a thin film of water can choke off your air."
They walked into the next viewing room, to be greeted by a nearly identical scene. The slave was bound as before, head in a vise. This time the slave was wearing a rubber mask. As they sat down the trainer picked up a tube and inserted it in one nostril, shoving a few inches at a time through her nose and down her esophagus into her stomach. He turned a valve and water could be heard gurgling into her.
He picked up a funnel and snapped it into place in the mouthpiece of the mask, the rubber holding it firmly. The slave made garbled noises, unable to talk with the funnel pressing on her tongue. The trainer picked up a gallon jug of water and started pouring it into the funnel. The slave didnít have to be told to swallow. She gulped it down, hoping to get a chance to breathe before more choked her. The trainer gave her little respite, pausing only briefly and never long enough for her to fully fill her lungs.
Glen noticed that her belly was beginning to swell. Before long she looked like her ninth month of pregnancy. The trainer pulled the tube and shut the valve in one quick motion. He continued to pour, accurately gaging any remaining room in her swelling stomach. She coughed and sputtered, fighting the water drowning her.
The trainer pushed a button and in a moment the door opened and a guard holding a nose-leashed male prisoner came in. The prisoner was blindfolded and the mask covered the girlís eyes so neither was aware of who the other was.
The prisoner was guided into position between the slaveís legs and equipped with a condom.
"Sheís nine months pregnant and overdue. Maybe a little rough sex would help, so slam it to her!"
His hands locked behind him, the man searched with his cock, already dripping, trying to find a hole, any hole into which he could fuck her. Her labia tickled the big plum, outlining exactly where her pussy was waiting.† He fell on her with a grunt, driving full length into her pulsing grotto.
His weight sent a gust of air out of the girlís lungs, followed by water that filled her throat. She tried to retreat, to avoid the lunges that were driving water from her stomach up into her mouth, but there was no place to hide. She had an overpowering urge to puke, but with the funnel in her mouth blocking it, the only out was through her nose. She knew better than that.† She had filled her nose once and regretted it for days afterward.
Dwight explained, "This is another method borrowed from the Inquisition. The inmates can be thankful that we toned it down. The old boys used to cane the stomach to force the water out and put heavy weights on the stomach as well. Like the other version it can be repeated any number of times. This particular slave actually hit a master. She alternates this version with the other one, two times each in a week."
Sarcastically he added, "I canít imagine why she doesnít like this. It takes three of our huskiest guards to drag her in here and secure her. If she ever straightens out, weíre going to punish her for resisting so strongly."
As they left the viewing room they almost ran into two inmates inching along in their bonds. Both were wearing an elongated version of the Little Ease Glen had seen in the first hall. These had the same collar, elongated at the back to force the head forward. The two diverging legs had the prisonerís wrists in a steel band and were long enough so the slave could stand almost erect, with another set of bands at right angles at the bottom to hold the ankles. The device forced the prisoner to both remain upright and to walk only stiff legged, swinging the whole frame at each step.
"Another version of the Little Ease we call the Big Ease. Most of the slaves call them both the A Frames."
Just beyond a slave was chained to the wall. She had above average size breasts but what got a second look from Glen were the odd attachments on her nipples. There was some sort of clamp, with a long wood wand jutting out. Hanging from the wands were weights. A machine on the floor used a cam to bounce the weights, one after the other.
"Those are something we actually invented. I believe the motivation was a comment from a master, something to the effect that "Heíd like to pull the nipples right off that bitch."
"We did some experimenting on the inmates. We had one accident - too much weight - and the slave had to have her nipple sewed back on. We call it the Nipple Jack. As you can see the fulcrum is very close to the nipple loop. That puts a tremendous amount of pull on the long arm. It obviously hurts like fury. The bouncer was an idea that came from an inmate we were torturing. In effort to get us to go easy she came up with this and a whole bunch of other equipment. She talked so fast that we had to go to the tape to find out what she said. Of course we thanked her and then went right on caning her feet."
"Speaking of feet, we have an interesting example of inmate ingenuity coming up." From the next viewing room they saw a slave already locked into an interesting variation of the stocks.
She was lying on a narrow platform, her wrists trapped in the wood beyond her head. She was face down, her mouth filled with a mounted dildo. Her legs were bent at the knee and her ankles were fastened through a horizontal stock extension. Her trainer bent down and dropped a slipknot loop over her big toes. The ends of the cord were fastened to clamps at the edge of the stocks, immobilizing both her feet.
Helpless to resist she waited for the punishment to begin. The first blow of the cane bisected her left foot from heel to toe. She shrieked, cutting it short to voice her thanks and request the next one "Hard." The second was a matching slice down her right foot, catching the middle toe. The shriek became a scream.
As they walked out, Dwight added some more information. "Itís amazing the ideas these slaves come up with when you give them a little incentive. The slave who dreamed that up was getting a routine whipping when her trainer offered her an opening. She was either to come up with a usable idea in 30 seconds or he would start her whipping over again. She was babbling a description in about 10 seconds flat."
"The inmates hate it, as you can well imagine. For some unknown reason they nicknamed it Big Bertha. After a session you walk like on broken glass for a week." He laughed. "The inmates have been trying to find out who gave us the idea. Word on the grapevine is they want to kill her for blabbing to us. Iím working up plans right now to force every one of them to give us a concept. Then itís who you gonna kill?"
" We have more than one form of ĎLittle Ease. Right down here is the cell block and a couple of special cells."
Barred cells lined two walls. On the end wall there were three Ďdog doors.í Four or five of the cells were occupied. Glen saw that each one was wearing a full chain set despite being locked up.
None of the three doors was locked. Dwight swung one door open and crawled in, Glen right behind him. He encountered something sharp. Too late, Dwight warned him, "Careful, there are lots of sharp edges and corners. Dwight used his remote to turn the lights on. Glen immediately squinted. "One thousand watts," Dwight announced. "We like to keep track of them - make sure they arenít jacking off. Plus, nobody can sleep with that shining in their face."
Dwightís belated warning was accurate. Everywhere he looked he saw the glint of metal, sharp metal. The floor was completely uneven, with not one square foot flat. There was no room to stand or even kneel. The inmates must crawl over the rough and uneven surface. It was easy to see why it too was called Little Ease. Anyone spending more than a couple of minutes in it would come out covered with scratches and outright cuts.
"We make them get clear back against the back wall - where the roof comes down almost to the floor - when we open the door to feed them. Then of course they have to crawl clear to the front to get their bread and water. They get plenty of crawling time."
"How long can you keep them in there?"
"30 days is the planned maximum. Weíve had several do the full tour, and one that was out for less than an hour and went back in for another 30.
We hose them down once a week. Cold of course. All the inmates get cold showers. If weíre having problems we turn on the refrigeration unit and cool the water down to about 40 degrees Fahrenheit. That gets everybodyís attention in a hurry. Mandatory minimum is 10 minutes."
"You mentioned bread and water, long term. Is that healthy?
"Not by itself. The doctor prescribed special vitamin pills they have to take, which supplies everything they need. Some of the trainers have been known to soak the bread in hot sauce, or add some Ďgravyí to it."
"Jackoff Juice. Some of the hornier gals would gladly take a 30 day stint in Little Ease for one mouthful. We make sure they donít even get a taste and lavish it on the ones who hate it."
Glen looked at him and grinned,"You know, you sound like a† first class sadist."
"Comes in the job description, no pun intended. We recruit both the guards and the trainers who have at least some background of sadism. Itís a necessary evil. The regulars couldnít begin to handle this bunch."
Just them a woman came around the corner, walking very gingerly. She was completely encased in a bright red spandex body suit with matching helmet. Her feet and legs were similarly covered. Only her eyes were visible above a gag that covered the entire lower half of her face, seemingly made of the same material.
Dwight stepped forward and crooked his finger. Glen could read† pain and fear both in her eyes. He was sure she was reluctant to obey but hadnít yet figured out why.
As the girl came closer. Glen eyed her up and down. He still found nothing, other than the halting gait to guess what her problem was. Dwight grinned at her and said over his shoulder, "Come, give her a big hug."
That really confused him but he did as ordered. As he put his arms around her she visibly winced and the faintest of moans got past her gag. He looked at Dwight for an explanation.
"This is Mary. Mary was a bad girl some time ago. She was the first to spoil our record of not having any returnees. She has suffered some appropriate penalties for being such a bad girl."
"You may have noticed that she walks funny. You may have had an inkling that something was wrong when you hugged her. Thatís because the suit she is wearing is completely lined with nasty little studs. She cannot sit. She cannot lie down. It took some serious whipping to teach her to walk. Why donít you squeeze her tits? She dearly loves to have her tits mauled and clamped in someoneís fingers."
Without the gag she undoubtedly said something like, "You lying bastard!" It was turned to mumble by the gag. It didnít do as good a job when Glen attacked her twin jugs. She could be heard protesting clear across the hall.
Glen noted her reaction, tempted to run his hands hard up and down her body, knowing she had said something forbidden. He turned to Dwight. "I made something very similar for my slave - my wife-slave - for a nightgown. She thought she shouldnít sleep in the Masterís bed - not good enough - but I convinced her otherwise. Mine had sharp metal stickers woven into the cloth."
"Man, I could use a thousand yards of that stuff. Iíve had some projects in mind for some time that would work with your cloth."
"My housekeeper - slave - came up with the cloth. Iíll see if she can find some more."
He started to move, then stopped. "As you probably know, Iím bringing a whole herd of slaves with me from the States. Amy - the wife-slave I mentioned† - will need a Ďtopping offí to get her on the right track. Sheís come 180 and now is a little bit too big for her britches. What would it take to run her through here for a week or two?"
"Name the day. Your name on the request will get instant attention from my staff.† Iíll need to meet with you to work out limits, likes and dislikes and from there on sheís a number, not a name. You may want to do what a couple of masters have done, just leave her here indefinitely. We have well stocked special rooms for conjugal visits, so you can see her any time. That goes for any of your other slaves as well."
"I should be back in about three weeks. Weíll work it from there."
"Great. Iíve heard a lot about your qualifications, so Iíd be more than happy to work with you on it."
They ran the gauntlets of the halls lined with begging slaves. The numbers seemed little different than when they went in. Dwight said that as one slave left with a master another usually was assigned to the hall, so there were always a good number to pick from. "Just like parading the gals in a whorehouse."
"By the way, where is my slave? Her cage wasnít there when we came out of the Severe Section."
"The guards took her back outside and put her in the cage on the car. A bit of public display."
"You didnít do anything more to her?"
Dwight chuckled. "We didnít need to do anything more. She was already scared shitless. Thatís one pussy that will toe the mark from now on."
"Maybe you should run all the slaves - or at least the new ones -through here to warn them before they cause trouble."
"Itís a good idea. Iíll talk with my crew and see how we would handle it. Your slave did miss out on one thing. We normally put at least one ring into every slave we handle. Sort of put our brand on them. I didnít want to do it without consulting with you."
"It would have been Okay, but weíll save it for next time. Iím sorry I didnít have time to see your entire facility. Iíll come back as soon as I get settled in."
"You actually saw about 10 percent of the place. Give me a full day of your time and I can show you the rest. In the meantime Iíll do some thinking about giving your wife-slave a treat or two."
The men said their goodbys at the door and Glen walked to the waiting car. Becky was welded into the cage with a handful of plastic ties,† legs spread and obscenely displayed for any spectators. She was gagged and still had the nose clamp on her septum. One guard drove, while the other sat with the cage at the back, displaying his authority. The car had "Discipline Barracks" in large red letters on both sides and smaller letters on the front and rear, so anyone within shouting distance knew that Becky was in the clutches of the Barracks.
When they reached his office, the guards used wire cutters to release her from the ties. She had been wearing only a light set of manacles until they reequipped her with much heavier ones for her trip to the Barracks. They left them on her, along with the gag and nose clamp. The driver whipped out a clipboard.
"Sir, please sign this receipt. The fine print at the bottom indicates she was released into your custody and that she has not been physically harmed beyond routine discipline methods."
As Glen read it the guard added in a whisper, "The nose clamp is a gift from the warden. It has a time lock on it, set to seven days. She should be quite tired of it by then."
Glen signed the receipt and accepted a copy, which he handed to Sara Mae. The guard stepped over to where Becky was kneeling. He grasped her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. "Say one word to anyone, including your Master, about how you were treated or anything else about the Barracks and you get an automatic three month sentence. Weíll be looking forward to playing with you, and youíll definitely get that double rape in front of the mall that you missed this time."
The guard had every opportunity to tell Glen not to talk about the Barracks, but pointedly did not bring it up, recognizing his rank in the community. Glen realized that, but he found himself in a dilemma. Should the brutal methods used in the Barracks be common knowledge as a deterrent, or did fear of the unknown give more pause. He decided he needed to think about it some more.
After the guards left, Becky was suddenly a basket case, shivering so violently her teeth chattered. She flopped to her belly and crawled to Glenís feet. She kissed them fervently. Head down, she begged, "Master, I beg of you, please never take me near that place again. If I do something wrong, kill me rather than send me there. Give me a knife and I will cut my own throat."
Glen watched her, his face impassive. When she subsided he spoke. "That was a close call, today. You were a hairís breadth away from a sentence. I trust this object lesson is seared in your mind, so deep that you will never again even think of disobeying. This is also a lesson for you, Sara Mae, and you, Opal." The two nodded like dolls, shocked into rigidness.† Sara Mae wanted desperately to hear news of her friend, Jeanne, but the guardís warning echoed in her head. She decided it was better not to know.
She picked up the receipt, planning to file it, but suddenly stopped and started to read it, thinking it might give some hint. She was not only disappointed she was frightened further by the cold legalese that denied any rights to a slave and absolved the master and the warden of any blame if the slave was injured during her sentence.
That night, as Becky lay, helpless in his chains, she asked, "Master, must I wear this..."
She was afraid to touch this souvenir of her experience in the Barracks so she pointed toward her nose. Glen bent down and took his first close look. "Thereís a timer on it. Itís set for seven days, so itís not coming off."
She wanted in the worst way to tell him how much it hurt, But, a time lock! She decided a protest would be useless.
It didnít interfere in the least with her bedroom duties. As he slid into her he could feel a new tautness in her muscles. He smiled to himself. She had taken the warning seriously.† As the evening progressed she demonstrated that she could bounce inches higher than before. She was more pleasing, more attentive and more ready to anticipate any of her Masterís wishes.
The next morning, when they got to the office, Glen assigned her to the far end of his desk, actually a distance of close to 15 feet. She had a phone, a computer and a printer, so she was able to go to work almost immediately. Her red belt was lying on the desk, but when she reached to touch it, Glen stopped her. "You lose that for a weekís probation. If I am completely satisfied with your performance of your duties, both here and in my bed, you may resume wearing it as a badge of authority. Both Sara Mae† and Opal are brown belts, so they now outrank you."
Glen had felt all along, beginning at home, that the slaves should have a distinct pecking order, so they always knew where they stood.
On his last day, Glen had a final dinner meeting, this time with the Corporation Board. During the dinner he was the subject of several highly complimentary remarks about his experience and the several changes he had already suggested. One cited the report from the real estate manager that incoming calls had tripled, with a number of buyers wiring cash, sight unseen.
As they finished dinner and the after dinner drinks were being poured, Dr. Saslo got to his feet. "Gentlemen, weíve all been treating Glen like it was a done deal, that he had already accepted. But the closest I came to a decision was his conditional, ĎYes.í Tonight, he has promised to give us an answer, based on what he has seen here at the castle. Glen, the floor is yours."
He in turn rose to his feet. "Gentlemen, you have done me a great honor by offering me the job of General Manager. I have looked over much of the village and most of the castle itself. I have talked to department heads and workers and slaves. I have considered the pay, and the perks."
He stopped, to look down at Becky, kneeling at his feet. His remark was greeted with general, knowing laughter. Becky actually flushed a pretty pink.
"All things considered, Iíd be a damn fool not to take the job, so my answer is ĎYes!í"
The entire board rose to their feet, applauding. Dr. Saslo cried, "A toast! To our new General Manager!"
The talking, planning and reviewing went on until midnight. Glen, dreading a long flight starting out hung over, begged off further talk and drinks. Even at that Becky had to literally pour him into bed as his glass never got below a finger breadth from the rim thanks to an attentive waitress. He was asleep immediately, leaving her horny and pouting. She chained herself to the bed by one foot and was about to masturbate when she realized that it was against orders. The security camera above the bed would have caught her out. That was a scary thought, for sure.
Glen was greeted with hugs and kisses by the three redheads on the plane. Glen was about to make them quit this un-slavish behavior, but he enjoyed it so he let them plaster their naked bodies against him. He had almost no hangover left, thanks to a potent, very smelly remedy that Becky spooned into his waking mouth. The girls were all agog, complimenting him on his new job. They excitedly told him that, while the return flight was going to be full of passengers, he was the only guest on the flight to Chicago.
"That means," crowed Lisa, "that all three of us can give you our undivided attention." She glanced at the cockpit. "Of course we have the cockpit crew to satisfy too."
"With three of you I shouldnít be a problem," said Glen. "They assigned me a personal assistant at the castle who I think invented the slave fuck. Sheís good enough to give you three a run for your money."
The three fllight attendants broke into gales of laughter. "As if anyone could teach a FLYER how to fuck!"
Glen laughed. "I know air crews are legendary in the bedroom, but this gal wore me out."
Lavina got right in his face. "Thereís room on the bed for all three of us and you. We can bounce you from one side to the other so you can see weíre better than any land-based personal assistant."
The way she said it made Becky sound like the scum of the earth. Obviously the girls were proud of their track record and† werenít about to let Glen get off the plane in Chicago still thinking his PA was the best.
"By the way, do we know this PA of yours, thatís so good in bed?"
"You probably do. Her name is Becky and she flunked out of the castle flight training school."
"Oh, HER!" came the chorus. "She had a thing going for another pilot and lost interest, so they canned both her and the pilot."
"Well, sheís not lazy now! She had a bit of remedial anti-laziness training."
"You mean..." Linda was afraid to finish the sentence.
Glen nodded, knowing the girls would know what happened to her. He swayed slightly, realizing the plane was already moving. He marveled at the difference. He woke up this morning to a hot mouth balls deep on his prick, throat muscles sucking his insides out.
He rolled out of bed, into the clothes Becky was holding, gulped a half cup of coffee (plenty on the plane) and into the waiting limo. Five minutes by his watch and he was climbing the stairs into the cabin. It was a far cry from the parking problems, lengthy lines, baggage search, personal search and all the other hassle of modern day flying.
Dutifully he sat down in one of the deep recliners and allowed the girls to buckle him in - not without a furtive feel from a tiny questing hand. The three took advantage of the lack of passengers and used the other seats, rather than go to their assigned jump seats.
Glen found it easy on the eyes to have three redheads clustered around him. All were displaying their marble skin and countless freckles. They would don their uniforms as they started to descend into O'Hare, but until then he had three naked, shaved-pussy girls to play games with.
The three drew lots and Lavina won the job of satiating the cockpit crew. She curled her tongue through her lips and licked the air. "Donít get too far without me."
Glen promised to save her a space on the bed. As they filed into the bedroom he felt that little hand sliding across his hip. He vaguely identified it as Lindaís but there wasnít time - or a reason - to slap the hand. His clothes disappeared through feminine magic. Linda and Lisa crowded into the shower with him, While soap flew in every direction they washed him with their bodies. Linda gently kneed him, moving her soapy kneecap over and under his balls and did a merry-go-round on his rapidly rising prick.
That of course set off a chorus of Ohhhs and Ahhhs, a "Let me feel" and teasing fingers that would have raised a boner on a brass monkey.
Shower over, they produced hot towels, from heaven knows where, and kept his arousal at fever pitch with towel after towel. That sneaky little hand as often as not was under the latest towel doing things to his manhood that only a retired professional hooker would know. As Glen laid there and soaked up the attenion it made him think of all the boring, dull, endless flights that he had made, close enough to touch the hips and thighs of the attendants, without ever having the opportunity to bed them.
Lavina returned from the cockpit, hair messy enough to indicate she had fulfilled her mission. She was still licking her lips as she opened the door and sidled in. She slid onto the bed seductively, deliberately sucking her finger with her arrowhead tongue sliding suggestively out and back as she swiped each side of the finger. Glen greeted her with a twitch of his fully erect cock, setting all three to cooing and carrying on, acting like none of them had ever seen a stiff prick before.
Linda, who when she wasnít entertaining guests in her bed, was actually the chief flight attendant used that authority to boss her two assistants into position on either side of her. Once† in position she ordered, "Arch," and followed it by assuming the same position. She motioned Glen to top her and he used his entire length to reach the end of the tunnel. She started bouncing in place, the other two girls matching her.
"Iím going to bounce you six times. Iíll turn my hips on number six and bounce you over to Lisa. Sheíll guide you to a landing and give you six more to bounce you back to me, then to Lavina, and so on."
The only thing lacking was a reminder of the "Fasten Seat Belts" sign.
Glen bounced. Until he got the rhythm it was like flying in heavy turbulence and he had a moment of air sickness, but it passed quickly. He flew off and into the hands of Lisa, who guided him in like a homing beacon.
Amazingly he only lost his way once, quickly remedied by those tiny hands. Heíd lost track of where he was, lost in the sensation of taking on three hot and wet pussies at the same time.
All four were exhausted and drained when the orgy came to an end with Glen spurting in midair, setting off a scramble to lick up his load. He looked down, reminded of three puppies crowding into a small food dish.
Linda was the first to recover. "Whew! Now THAT was a record! I hope the cameras got it all."
Just then the cabin phone buzzed. Linda answered it, listened for a moment, then grinned like a hyena. She hung up and announced, "A strong 10 on the cockpit crewís porn rating chart. They got a big bang out of it."
She looked over at Glen, lying sprawled on the bed. "Theyíve got a 30 inch HD TV hidden in the Flight Engineerís control room. They get to watch while we do the performing."
"I want a copy of the tape. It will make a fitting start for my porn collection."
"Youíre probably already on the delivery list. They pass out copies to the department heads and VIPs. You will have to sign a release before they can use it. Your face will also be blurred out so it wonít matter if it gets into the wrong hands."
It was a little unsettling for Glen to experience all that and then get up and greet the midday sun. He finally got the other half cup of coffee and a light snack. He poured down the bottled water to avoid dehydration.
The girls were ready to go again after brunch but Glen laid down the law. "Iíve got a tremendous amount of work to do to get this job off the ground. You three will have to amuse yourselves while I get some things done. Now scoot!"
The long descent into OHare began while they were still over Canada. The girls had set up a small office for him. His cell phone hooked into a short wave circuit and satellite that gave him the ability to call anywhere in the world. He actually got a considerable amount of work done and alerted the staff at home as to his arrival time.
As he reached the cabin door he was roundly kissed by all three of the women. The cockpit crew beamed and added their congratulations. The Flight Engineer winked. "Jolly good show on the telly this morning." Glen grinned and shook hands all around, thanking them for a smooth flight.
A limo sped him to the jetway of his flight home. He climbed the steps, discovering he was the first to board. He settled into his seat in First Class and asked for mineral water, a habit picked up during his short stay at the castle.
Glenís arrival home went almost unheralded. Georgina was kneeling by the door as he came in. He had left the baggage in the car to retrieve in the morning.
There was no sign of the other four slaves. Glen appreciated the fact that Georgina had assumed that he would be tired and jet lagged, so she had shooed them off to bed. She jumped to her feet and gave him a big hug, startling him once again. He seemed to be surrounded by huggers.
She handed him a tall glass of water and filled a second to place by his bed. She offered any service Glen wanted, but he was more interested in sleep. She smiled and tucked him in. He was asleep before she turned out the light.
It was noon before he made an appearance. The four slaves jumped up and surrounded him, hugging him and then kissing his feet in welcome.
"Guess I should go away more often," he said to Georgina, who already had welcomed him. "Thanks for keeping the harem quiet. I slept like a log." He chuckled, "Iíd take this bed along, but the one at the castle is at least twice as good."
After a quick lunch he announced, "Gather Ďround. I have some important news for you." All five immediately knelt before him, pretty sure what to expect, but listening to every word carefully.
"I have accepted the job. As I told the board, ĎIíd be a damn fool† not to take it." The slaves welcomed the news, but stayed in place, offering just verbal congratulations.
"You five are part of the deal. I have one whole floor of an entire wing of the castle. It has a private dungeon and quarters for as many slaves as I wish. Most of the work at the castle is done by slaves. You will have the opportunity to work, with a corresponding increase in the payoff when your contract is fulfilled. The Corporation Board is very generous to those slaves who work hard and contribute to the well being of the residents."
"I want to take all five of you. Dr. Steve will probably head the hospital and Iím sure he will bring Penny along."
"The castle is amazing and so is the village that surrounds it," he enthused. " You can walk right up to the castle or any building in the village and even touch it and you will think you are in Medieval Europe. Go inside and you are instantly transported to the 21st century."
"They have every conceivable amenity. There is a huge shopping mall, complete with a wing of stores devoted to the bondage scene. Thereís a theater, bowling alley, tennis courts, a baseball diamond, a football field - for soccer - a large lake with a marina and the airport is right there within armís reach. I could go on and on, but you will enjoy discovering things for yourselves."
"You, all of you, have a choice. You can go with me, or you can stay behind and be released from your contracts. I am not going to force any of you to go. I need to know by dinnertime tonight so that I can plan the trip. I will be in my office and you are welcome to come in and ask any questions that you may have."
Georgina asked a practical question. "Did they give you a staff there?"
"I have a maid and a butler that I never saw. I was to have the pick of the pool as my personal assistant, but Dr. Saslo made the choice for me, and I might say a very good one. I have a receptionist and a secretary in my office."
As he talked he noticed that Amy had a very sour look on her face. He ignored her and kept on talking, but as the initial questions began coming he could see she was upset.
He told Georgina, "If you go along you will still be in charge of the household." She brightened considerably, having something special to look forward to.
Then he said to Selene. "Iíve recommended you as head of the slave training facility. Dr. Saslo was impressed with your teaching methods."
"Thank you, Master, I am honored."
Turning to the other three he reassured them. "I do have some special jobs in mind for you, but I want you to see what you are getting into before I assign you."
Amy seemed almost not to be listening. Her face had become grim, suggesting she was getting ready to burst out with some negative comment. To forestall it he shooed them out, pleading work to be done.
Both Sarah and Jane seemed excited at the prospect. As they went out they were chattering about all the things they could see in Europe, sounding like a pair of potential tourists. He would have to disabuse them of the idea that it was all fun and games.
They were back almost immediately, with plenty of questions. He pointed out that their contracts didnít allow for lengthy vacations. "You are there to work, not just to have fun."
Georgina let him catch up on work before she came in. Her questions continued on the practical side. They discussed having the maid and butler - a female slave - working for her. He asked about Sarah and Jane.
"Master, I would welcome them. They are good workers. From what you have said I have some question if we would need them both unless you get rid of the maid you already have."
"Thatís no problem. She came from the labor pool and she can go back to it and work for someone else. Iíd be happy to have them continue to work under you." He paused. "Which brings up the most serious problem. What do I do with Amy?"
"Selene got her turned around, but she has been a pain in the ass while you were gone. She tried twice to pull rank - ĎIím the Masterís wife - and wouldnít take orders. If I was your mother, rather than your willing slave, Iíd urge you to divorce her and leave her behind."
Glen nodded. "I noticed she was looking pretty sour."
"Master, all she could talk about was that you would have some floozy bird dogging you around the castle and hopping into bed with you at a momentís notice. Tell me she was wrong."
"My personal assistant is a stunning redhead, well educated and loves her slavery. She served as my guide and in our spare moments we hopped into bed together, as serving me in the bedroom was part of her assigned duties. Calling Becky a floozy is nonsense, but Amy is going to get punished for it. She also will answer for trying to climb above her station."
When Selene came in it was close to dinnertime. She had questions about the slave training facility. Her eyes widened when Glen told her that they hadnít even broken ground for it. "Youíll have plenty to do, designing the facilities, making requisitions for all the equipment that you will need."
"Master, how am I going to run this when I have to deal with Masters who wonít take orders from a slave?"
Glen spent about five minutes explaining the rank system based on the colored belts. "You will wear a green belt as the facility manager and you outrank almost all the Masters in the place. If you have trouble the security police will be on the spot in moments. They too defer to your authority. But, if you screw up - break the rules - you can lose your belt and get treated like the other slaves. I will tell you in confidence, if you are arrested for any crime, you can expect a double rape by the officers escorting you to the Discipline Barracks."
Selene looked shocked, but said nothing. Glen added one more thing. "There is one red belt, that outranks all the other colors. My personal assistant wore it, but promptly lost it for a week. She will be wearing it when we get there."
Seleneís curiosity almost went off scale as she wondered what the PA had done to deserve losing her belt before Glen had even accepted the job. She knew better than to ask.
He sighed. "One more piece of business here. I understand Amy has been having delusions of grandeur."
"What do you recommend?"
"A divorce and leave her here. Sheíll be a constant troublemaker there."
"Youíve been talking to Georgina."
"No, Master. I had no idea she suggested the same thing. If she said it, Iíd listen to her."
"You are downplaying the fact you said the same thing. I value your advice as well."
"Thank you, Master. Again, I am honored."
"After dinner you are to take Amy to the dungeon and whip her. Iíll leave the count to you. I want you to bring her to me after you are finished. Put her in a jumpsuit."
Selene puzzled over his instructions. She guessed that he was going to take Amy somewhere, but where?
At dinner, they ate and when everyone was finished Glen rapped his glass for attention. "All right, girls. What have you decided. Hands up if you want to go."
He stared directly at Amy, who was the last to raise her hand, her body language broadcasting her reluctance.
"Good. I think you will enjoy it. Amy, from what I hear you have been, quote ĎA pain in the ass.í You were warned several times that your status as my wife put you at the bottom, rather than the top. You tried to abuse that situation while I was gone. There are some other matters that I will discuss with you later. Right now you are going to the dungeon with Selene for a severe whipping for abusing my trust."
Amy glared, but only for a moment. She knew Glen well enough to know that this was no time to annoy him into heaping more punishment on her shoulders. She ground out the required "Thank you, Master," through gritted teath. She knelt and offered Selene her leash. Selene warily accepted it, watching closely to ensure that Amy didnít have a chance to strike out at her.
Glen went back to his office to work. An hour later there was a jangle of chains and Amy came through the doorway, on her knees. She was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. A thin chain hung from her collar to her handcuffs, just below her breasts, then on down to the hobble chain on her ankles. Selene had laid aside the whip and was urging her on with a short crop.
"Thank you, Selene. "Iíll take her from here. Wait up for me, as you may have some more work." Glen picked up a light jacket and took Amyís leash. He snapped it, jerking her head towards him. She followed, barely keeping the leash slack.† Glen walked silently, leading her through the basement to the garage. He opened the pickup door and motioned her in. When she was seated he reached in the glove compartment and got out a pair of handcuffs. He used them to lock her hobble to a bar under the seat, after pulling the chain to make her bend over slightly.
Glen drove for more than an hour, wandering all over the city. He used the time to lecture Amy, noting her tantrum over his personal assistant. "You know better than that," he reprimanded her. "I told you and the others have told you that you have no right to demand that I just fuck you and nobody else. You were taught that lesson at the end of a whip and yet you chose to complain, and behind my back."
Amy sat, silent, as Glen reviewed her whole history from the night she stripped and handcuffed herself. He remembered every punishment he had ordered for her, remembered her entreaties that she would be good, she would change. He saved the worst for last. "Amy, I am advised to divorce you and leave you here. I think it is good advice, as I will be assuming major responsibilities in my new job and the last thing I need is loose† cannon slave stirring up trouble."
As the truck came to a stop sign, Glen pulled over to the curb. He pointed. "If I turn left it is the street back to your house. I will drop you off and you will never see me again. If I turn right it will be back to my house. If I turn right, your life is going to change for the worse. You have shown you are a pain slut. If you go along with me, I can guarantee you more pain than even you can handle. I have already made arrangements for you to spend some time in the Castle Discipline Barracks, which I assure you, lives up to its name. Itís your choice, but I warn you that you will see less and less of me and more and more of the people who work for me. You cause a problem and you may never see the light of day again. There are cells in the lower level of the dungeon that you wouldnít wish on your worst enemy."
He paused for a long moment. "Which way?"
There was a long silence. Glen was about to repeat the question when she said softly, "Turn right, Master."
"You realize what you are letting yourself in for?"
"Weíll start with Selene. She is waiting for you as your permanent Mistress. When we get home, you will crawl to her, kiss her feet, apologize and beg that she repeat your earlier punishment, harder."
"Selene is going to be the manager of the slave training facility. I have no doubt that she will assign you as a permanent trainee, as an object lesson for the new slaves." He looked over at her. "Still want to turn right? You will be reminded of this decision many times."
"Yes, Master. Turn right."
Selene was waiting in the garage as Glen drove in. Without waiting for orders she walked to the passenger side and jerked the door open. "Out!"
Amy didnít move.
"Out!" Selene raised her voice. Amy remained hunched over.
Selene used the whip. Amy cringed but made no effort to move.
Glen got out and walked around the truck to watch. He made no effort to stop Selene.
Selene whipped her twice in rapid succession. Amy shrieked but stayed in place.
Selene walked forward, grabbing at Amyís arm. It was then she saw that Amyís chains were locked to the bar.
"You dumb slut! Sit there and take a whipping rather than tell me that you were chained down! That is going to cost you!"
Without a word Glen slid by her and used the key to unlock the chains. When Amy was free she slid off the seat and lay flat on the ground. She located Seleneís feet and crawled to kiss them.
"Please, Mistress, forgive me for my many falts. I beg you to repeat my punishment earlier, and make it harder."
Selene took advantage of the situation. "Crawl to your Masterís feet and beg his forgiveness. You are a sorry example of a slave!"
As Amy received this tongue-lashing, she was already crawling to Glen, kissing his feet unusually fervently. "Master, I beg forgiveness."
Head down, she waited for his answer. It came as a surprise. "Selene, give this slave an extra 10 lashes for insulting my PA. Do them last and her response is to be Ďharder.í Donít forget to also correct this stubborn streak that has cropped up."
"At once, Master!"
Selene short-leashed Amy and knee-walked her to the Dungeon. She looked back and Glen gave her the Ďperfectí sign. She smiled and turned back to her charge.
Glen watched them until the dungeon door closed with a boom. He shook his head, trying to understand Amyís motives. One minute she was the perfect slave, the next she was truly a pain in the ass. He knew he probably was making a mistake in taking her along and he had an uncomfortable feeling that Georgina and Seleneís advice to dump her was the right course of action, but he still had a warm spot in his heart for her.
He mentally reviewed the potential problems, chief among them Amyís full blown jealousy of Becky. He grimaced as he realized that Amy probably didnít even yet know the girlís name and was already causing problems. He knew that Selene would be unable to beat it out of her. This left the one hope that time in the Disciplinary Barracks would do what the whip had not yet been able to do.
He glanced at his watch. The office in the castle would already be open. He went up the stairs to his office and made the call. He smiled when he heard Becky answer. The call was lengthy as work was piling up. As they finished, Becky added a word, "Master, I miss you. I have been a good girl and I am wearing my red belt again. Please hurry back."
He hung up and leaned back in his chair. He wondered what her reaction would be if she knew the headaches that were coming her way.