Amyís Bondage
by Raul Roget

Copyrighted material, not for those under 18 years of age.

Chapter 76 -- Swap Meet

A couple of dozen residents were on hand when the big military bus rolled up to the castle. Two soldiers, assault rifles at the ready came out the door and swept their eyes from horizon to horizon before saying something to those waiting in the bus.

A third soldier, with a side arm, held a lead chain. He pulled it tight, and ordered the women to come out. One by one, they came carefully down the steps, following the lead of the chain that ran from collar to collar. Each of the slaves was shackled with a hobble chain, her wrists locked behind her. Two more soldiers came out behind them, armed with short sinister looking whips. Glen counted 25 slaves.

The soldiers marched the coffle of slaves to the main dungeon. Glen decided to leave them chained for the moment. He led the soldiers to another cell. Only Jadron was in the small enclosure. He knelt, heavily chained and hooded. The soldiers lifted him to his feet, but the chains from his ankles to his belt were too short for him to walk. Two of the soldiers picked him up and carried him from the dungeon to the waiting bus. They carried him onto the bus and pushed him, head first, into a small cage bolted to the floor. The junior officer in charge gave Glen papers to sign, accepted an envelope with the transcript of the interrogation, shook hands and watched him go out the door. Jadron was still fighting his gag, trying to protest. The bus door closed and the motor started. One of the soldiers picked up a baton, reached through the bars and began beating the naked, chained man. It would be a long trip to the capitol.


The slaves were relieved of their chains, but remained locked up in the dungeon. Glen called Ralph at the DB and set up plans to interrogate each of the slaves. Glen was concerned that there might be a spy or two among them and he wanted to root them out before they could cause any damage.

Glen had barely settled back in his office to catch up on the neglected paperwork when his secretary, Sara Mae, told him that Ralph was on the phone. "He sounded upset," she warned.

"Ralph, whatís the matter?"

"Glen, itís your wife... slave, Amy. She was licking our star when she collapsed. Her pupils are extremely dilated. Iíve called Dr. Steve and heís on the way from the hospital."

"Iíll be right there."

Glen hung up, quickly told Sara Mae what had happened and dashed for his car. He and Dr. Steve arrived at the DB together. Almost running, Ralph led them to Amy, who was sprawled on the floor on her back. Otherwise, the room was empty, the spyís bonds hanging on the wall.

Dr. Steve examined her briefly, then glanced at Ralph. "Call the ambulance."

He stood up and stepped toward Glen.

"I suspect that she may have a brain tumor. Iíll get a cat scan immediately. One of Europeís leading brain surgeons has a villa here at the castle. I talked with him an hour ago on another matter, so heís available if we need to go in."

"Do you think itís cancer?"

Dr. Steve could hear the worry in his voice. "We wonít know until we get it out, or get a biopsy."

Glen and Dr. Steve drove back to the hospital, while Ralph had one of his men drive Glenís car back to the office parking lot.

Glen spent the next ten hours pacing the waiting room, trying to get his mind off Amyís problems by trying to read some of the magazines, but most of them were in some other language, or were a year or two old. His thoughts kept returning to Amy and the problems he had been having with her.

Dr. Steve and the brain specialist finally emerged. Dr. Steve introducd him to Dr. Stefan, who patted Glen on the shoulder. "Sheís going to be fine. It was a tumor - a big tumor - but it was benign. No cancer."

Glen was full of questions, but the two doctors had questions of their own. "Dr. Steve tells me youíve been having problems with your wife for some time?"

"Yes, her behavior has been very erratic, with some violent mood swings."

"The tumor was in the exact spot to have that effect on th brain. Iím surprised that you havenít had more problems with her."

"Iíve kept her locked up most of the time to avoid giving her an opportunity, but she managed to give me the slip several weeks ago, so I had to follow protocol and send her to the Barrack."

"This operation should solve most of the problems sheís been having. I know Iíd act weird if I had a knot like that in my skull. Right now I have to go back and see how she is recovering."

"If thereís anything I can do, anything you need, just give me a call."

Dr. Steve nodded. "Glen, weíve got some of the best facilities and equipment in the world. With a top notch surgeon like Dr. Stefan, Amyís getting the best."

"Thatís encouraging. Do YOU think she is going to be all right?"

"As sure as anyone can be after major surgery. I assisted, and I can assure you Dr. Stefan knows his stuff. Before he closed he tested all the major response areas of her brain and every one is working."

"When can I see her?"

"Sheís in the recovery room right now. As soon as they move her to ICU, you can go in."

Glen paced some more. He looked up to see Ralph walking toward him. "Howís she doing?"

"Dr. Stefan says sheís doing fine. They found a big tumor, but it was benign."

"Well thatís good news!"

"I feel a lot better. He says her erratic behavior was the result of the tumor pressing on her brain."

Ralph led Glen to a couch and sat him down. He stood before Glen for a moment, seeming to make up his mind. "Glen, I almost never argue with my boss, but I think you are being really rough on Amy."

Glen looked at him, surprised. "Coming from the Castleís chief torturer, thatís quite a mouthful."

"Iíve had a chance to watch Amy in action for several weeks now. Given the tumor and itís effect on her, she doesnít deserve a year in my Barracks. She already has been severely punished."

Glen shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I realize that - and she was severely punished back home for her escapades there. Now that I know that there was a tumor causing it, I see her with new eyes. I love her, but she lied to me about her past and that started a chain of events which culminated with her running away in the Castle."

"If I were you, Iíd offer her freedom once she has recovered."

Glen nodded, "I appreciate the advice, but Iíll make you a small bet that she will refuse."

"Do you love her, in spite of her faults?"

"Of course. I wouldnít have gone through with the marriage if I didnít. It wasnít a traditional marriage, rather a master-slave marriage."

"That makes it even more important that you bring her back. If you keep her as a slave, youíll have to come to an understanding with her. After being in my care sheíll toe the mark, assuming it didnít get that part of her brain."

Glen paused for a minute, digesting the advice from this unexpected source. He looked up. "So, what do I do with Becky?"

"Isnít she a slave? Reassign her."

"I canít do that! Well, I guess I can, but she is going to be one unhappy slave."

"Then put her in your harem that youíve got there. Jesus, you sound like youíre going soft on me."

"No way. I just like to keep everybody satisfied. She volunteered to be a slave, so I donít want to hurt her. Same thing with Amy. She asked for it, but I went overboard with her. Now Iíve got to rethink the whole relationship."

Just then a nurse came out and spoke to Glen, "You can go in now."

"Iíll wait here," said Ralph, realizing they probably would have refused to let him in.

As they walked back to the ICU, the nurse told him, "Sheís been murmuring your name as she came out of the anesthetic."

Glen desperately wanted to stop and take time to think through the developments of the last several hours, but there was no time. He was still getting over the shock of having Ralph tell him he was being too harsh with Amy. Ralph, of all people!

When he walked into her room, he could barely see her face among the bandages. She seemed barely conscious, but when he approached the bed she looked up at him and smiled, sending a pang through Glen. After all he had done to her, she still smiled at him. He took her hand, feeling her fingers tighten against his.

He looked down at her.

"Youíre going to be fine."

"What did they do to me?" she whispered.

"You had a brain tumor."

A look of fear crept across her face. "Cancer?"

"No, darling, it was benign."

He realized what he had said, but kept his face impassive.

"Is that... Is that why Iíve been such an asshole?"

"The doctor called it Ďerraticí and he said the tumor could have been the cause. Right now you need to rest. I just came to tell you ĎI love youí and weíll straighten things out when youíve recovered."

Amy smiled weakly, then the fear popped into her eyes again. "Will I have to go back to the Barracks?"

She shuddered at the memory.

"No, darling, Iíll make sure you donít go back - if you donít fuck up again." He grinned down at her. She opened her eyes wide and searched his face, acknowledging the grin. For the first time in a long time she felt she had something to live for. Just the fact that her Master-husband had come to her was enough for now.

"I wonít," she vowed. "Iíll be the best damn slave youíve ever had."

The statement was made with the last of her strength. Her grip on his hand tightened for a fleeting moment and she was fast asleep.

Glen left the room realizing the spark between them had been rekindled. He also realized that he had a problem. What was he going to do with Becky? He knew she had already fallen for him, and it was not the crush on power that some women have.

It took some serious rationalization before he decided on a plan. Both Amy and Becky were slaves and could be dealt with accordingly. Amy was his wife, which complicated matters, but† he felt he could handle it.

Becky met him at the door to the suite, naked, kneeling, holding a tray with a double shot on it. Her position solidified his plan. He greeted her, drank the drink and then headed for the shower, where Becky washed him from head to toe, getting him thoroughly aroused in the process. He debated taking her right on the bathroom floor, but he wanted to talk to her first.

She served his dinner, a tender rib eye steak. When he had finished dessert he ordered her to the bedroom, where he chained her tightly.

She dared ask, "How is Amy?"

"Very fine. She had a very large tumor on her brain, but it wasnít cancerous. It had been pressing on her brain and causing erratic behavior for several years."

Astutely, Becky commented, "Then that was what was responsible for her running away from the office."

"Yes, it appears that way. She did some weird things back home, too."

"Is she going back to the Barracks?"

"Not if I can help it. Of course, she would go back if she screwed up, but that tumor gives her an out on the escape charge."

"What happens to me when she comes out of the hospital?"

Glen chuckled, not in fun, but because her questions almost seemed to come off a script. "That was what I wanted to talk to you about."

He tweaked one of her chains. "These are to ensure you donít belt me while weíre having this conversation."

"Oh! You!" she exclaimed.

"Your record says you belted a Master with a hockey stick."

"He deserved it. He was trying to ram a champaign bottle up my pussy, big end first."

"But, a hockey stick?"

"He was nuts about hocky. The stick was hanging on the wall, in easy reach."

"You put him in the hospital."

"Master, Iíd have killed him if they hadnít stopped me. He was a lousy, no good bastard."

"To get back to your question, ĎWhat happens to me?í I need some straight answers from you. First, what would you like to have happen to you?"

Becky stared at the ceiling as if the answer was written there. Finally she looked at him. "Master, I guess I go back to the slave pool and get assigned to someone else."

"Thatís a big, fat, outrageous lie. Youíll sleep tonight with the biggest butt plug in the Castle up your ass. More lies, more nights!"

"Master, I want to stay here. Serve you. But with your wife coming back..."

"Youíve made an excellent substitute wife, with some unique services only a slave could perform convincingly. I want you to stay, but with a different job."

"Different job, Master?" She looked up at him, puzzled.

"I have a bet with Ralph that she will refuse freedom when she comes out of the hospital. If she accepts it, you remain here as you are."

He stopped long enough to twist an already rampant nipple, making Becky catch her breath.

"If I win the bet, you stay on, but your job will be training Amy to do everything you do now. I want her at least as good, if not better than you are. Can you handle that?"

"Of course, Master. Iíve trained slaves before, so I know the routines."

"Did you learn not to be jealous? And remember, another night of ass busting for the wrong answer."

"Master, I can be very jealous. I have never learned to fully control my jealousy, and I have the stripes to prove it."

"What about this situation?"

"I see trouble ahead, Master. I know you enjoy whipping my ass, but that is done for mutual enjoyment. I dare not think of what you will do to me - or have done to me - if you are angry because of my jealousy. Crawling to you on a daily basis to beg punishment is not going to work for either of us."


Chapter 77 -- Reconciliation

Glen spent the night on a cot in Amyís room at the hospital. He talked briefly with both doctors. They assured him that Amy was doing very well.

He spent a sleepless night. Staring at the ceiling he reviewed the events since he first met Amy. Never one to gloss over his faults, Glen realized that he had not only been harshly treating Amy, but his harsh treatment had slopped over onto the other slaves and now those he had occasion to contact in the castle. His office staff was scared to death of him. Becky had gotten more than her share of punishment, even though she was literally asking for it at times.

Not unexpectedly, he felt the pangs of embarrassment that he had never consummated their marriage. Although a firm believer in monogamy, he had been screwing everyone but his wife. Even to a slave this was a grave insult. That alone, even without the tumor, would have been enough to affect Amyís behavior. He could see that many of the things he had blamed her for traced right back to him. He spent some time wondering why nobody had called him on it. He realized that his slaves would never risk his wrath, but certainly Dr. Steve ought to have said something. Even as the thought occurred he realized he was trying to shift the blame from himself. While it could be argued that she was nothing but a slave, Amy really did mean a lot more than that to him.

He was awake every time a nurse went in to check on her. They would nod and smile, unable to comment, but reassuring him with their look.

Dr. Stefan came in just before dawn. He came out with a grin on his face. He told Glen, "She must be getting well. She complained because she wasnít handcuffed to the bed rail!"

"Thatís the slave in her talking. Iíve got a pair of cuffs in the car that will solve that complaint. Seriously, how is she?"

"Doing remarkably well. Being young has a lot to do with it. She appears to have tremendous recuperative powers."

"Thatís for sure. Five of us couldnít think up punishments fast enough to keep her on an even keel."

"Youíd do well to back off and let her work out the problems she has caused. She isnít going to leave you, so youíll have your slave back, but with a clearer head."

"We had some wonderful times together before this mess started. Will she have amy memory of that?"

"This shouldnít have any effect on her memory, There may be a little short term loss, but that will go away as she heals." He glanced at his watch. "Um, Iíve got to scoot. Iím due in surgery in half an hour."

"Thanks, Doc. I appreciate all youíve done and your advice."

A few minutes later they pulled the curtain aside and motioned for him to come to her bedside. She smiled and murmured,† "Master."

He bent down and kissed her on the lips. She masked her surprise behind a smile. He held up the cuffs. "You asked for these?"

"Master, a slave is always restrained. I feel nervous when I am not chained, or cuffed."

Glen opened the cuffs, placed one around her wrist and tightened it firmly. As he locked the other cuff to the rail she spoke agan, "Tighter, please Master. It is as if your hands are closed upon my wrist."

Somewhat reluctantly he placed his hands on the cuff and squeezed. The click could be heard even over the humming machines beside and above her bed.

"Again," she begged.

Glen shook his head violently. "Not on your life. Youíre itching for a bruise." He took the key and double locked the cuff, preventing her from closing it any further.

Glen stood over her, looming in the partially darkened room. He shook his head in wonderment. "Youíre acting more like a slave than a wife!"

"Glen, I am your slave first, your wife second."

Glen couldnít help retorting, "If you had said that long ago, we would have had a lot less problems."

Her smile faded and a serious look took its place. "Glen, thereís nothing more than being your willing, obedient slave that I want. I want to be your loving wife too, but my slavery comes first. You said you love me. That, for a slave is the highest possible honor. I was married to you without any say in the matter. I accepted, as a slave, without any rights. You didnít take me from my slavery, you added marriage to my burden. I wonít give it back, because I love my Master."

Glen cleared his throat. "When you get out of here, you can take the first plane back to the States, with your trust money in your purse. Iíll admit I treated you - and a lot of other people - very poorly. The least I can do is make a free woman out of you."

"Glen!" She jerked the handcuff loudly along the bar to underscore her exclamation. "Youíre not listening! You arenít paying attention! Would I beg your chains, lying in this hospital bed, if I was going to leave you? I just got through saying I wanted to be your willing, obedient slave - your slave first, your wife second. You didnít listen! Men!" She exclaimed, dropping deeper into her pillow.

"Well, I donít call yelling at your Master, being sarcastic, and trying to injure yourself as being an Ďobedientí slave."

"Glen, the doctor would kill you if you touch me now. When I am out of this bed and back at the apartment I will crawl on my belly to your feet and beg my slavery, that I can be properly punished for these things."

"I think youíre ready right now for a good fucking. The nurse wonít be back for a half hour. That gives us plenty of time." He suited actions to words, starting to crawl onto her bed.

"Glen! Donít touch me! Please! Remember the first night we met, I told you if you touched me I would come? Thatís still true. Only now Iíd scream and Iíd have half the hospital staff in here in about 30 seconds. Please! Donít do it!"

She watched, panting, as he backed off the bed. He stood, looking at her, remembering her fright.

"Glen, when the time is right, I want to be shackled, whipped up the stairs, from the dungeon to your bedroom. I want to be chained to your bed with the chains so tight they sing. I want you to gag me so that I can scream and then fuck me until I faint. I survived the DB. They did things to me that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. They did cruel things. They did unspeakable things. They spent hours finding the spots on my body that hurt the most - and then they hurt them again and again. I learned to love their pain. I had to, or come out a raving maniac. I will teach you what they did to me so that you can do it to me and make it a loving hurt instead of a mean hurt."

Glen could hardly believe his ears. This sounded like a person he didnít even know. But, there was flashes of the old orginal Amy that he first loved, even though there was an occasional lapse to the problem child Amy that he was unhappy with. He felt confident that as she recovered she would realize the mistakes she had been making under the influence of the tumor.


As it turned out, he was right. Amy spent two weeks in the hospital, moved to a private room the third day after the operation. Glen gently kidded her about her bald dome, but she accepted it, surprising Glen by treating it as punishment for some of her more outrageous stunts. She vowed to keep her head shaved, but her Master overruled her. "Nobody wants to see a scalp with a hole in it."She fussed, but he was adamant. "Besides, youíve got a bumpy head."

The two frolicked like young lovers. Glen repeatedly threatened to join her in the bed, and just as repeatedly was fended off. Glen brought shackles and another pair of handcuffs, making her helpless, but he gave the keys to one of the nurses. He checked with Dr. Stefan, who laughed. "She asked for them, so let her have as much bondage as she wants. Itís good therapy for her to be aware of her surroundings."

Glen warned him that she was prone to overdoing it, but the doctor said he would warn the staff to lock the cuffs so they couldnít be over-tightened.

Another week in bed in the castle wing and Amy was raring to go. She was allowed out of bed a couple of days after the surgery and encouraged to take short walks as she regained her strength. Betsy, on Glenís order, dug up a sensational blond wig that Amy was required - nay, forced - to wear, as Glen continued to razz her about her bumpy head. He walked with her, helping to support her at first, then moving away as she gained strength. Touching her through cloth seemed to dampen the effect on her libido.

Glen spent as much time with Amy as he could. He brought paperwork with him as he sat at her bedside. When she slept, he worked, stopping as soon as she stirred. He would kiss her when he arrived, and again when he left. This was dicey, because her rebuilding strength and her restraints were combining to make her so horny that she could barely hold back her climax when he kissed her. Glen had conned the doctor into forbidding any orgasms. He agreed, but added dildos and butt plugs to the forbidden list, pointing out that they would interfere with the hospital care. She knew Glen was behind it, but she had the will power to hold her climaxes in abeyance until the proper time.

She didnít have an easy time of it. Dr. Stefan told her flatly that the tumor was responsible for most, if not all of her lying and rebellion. She and Glen spent hours talking about the things she had done, at last compiling a list of the people she had hurt, or events that had affected others. At the top of the list were her fellow slaves in his household. She realized that she would have to make abject apologies to Georgina and Selene for the way she had acted toward them. To a somewhat lesser extent she needed to make amends to Sarah and Jane.

Amyís one strong point was her solid, detailed memory of the orgasm he had fostered by touching her that first night. She quickly used it as the focus for other remembered events. She even thought about the cage, but now she knew the real meaning of the bars. If she had only admitted lying, without the big buildup to the cage, much of the ensuing problems would never have happened.

The sight of his wife-slave chained to her bed inflamed Glenís senses. He began to regularly tell her lurid stories centered about the punishments she was begging for. His graphic descriptions aroused both of them. As he spoke softly, close to her ear, she would begin to slowly move. If he kept talking her movements turned into writhing, centered on the points where she was attached to the bed. Her breathing transformed to panting, then gasping for breath to fill her perennially empty lungs.

As the end of her confinement neared, her desire to be punished and his tales of punishment and torture increased in intensity. Picking a time when she was a heartbeat away from a climax, he opened his pants and showed her his rigid cock. She gasped, closing her eyes tight as he promised to make their marriage whole, and then she lost it, expending the pent up energy that she had - up to then - controlled.

He made her open her eyes and watch as he slowly moved his hand up and down on his rigid staff, recalling their first experiences together. He made her stick out her tongue and loaded his finger with his lubricant and slathered it on her taste buds. In moments she was ready to come again, but he denied her that pleasure, refusing her begging.

"Soon," was her only solace. Little did she know..........


The day came. Amy was pale, but on her feet. Glen was reluctant until she had healed more, but she was grimly determined. She had cultivated Dr. Stefan and gained his permission to resume her slavery. She was the talk of the hospital. The doctors and nurses viewed her as an almost overly dedicated slave. The slaves working in the hospital saw her as† their champion, especially after they found out she was the slave wufe of the General Manager.

She wore the chains of a slave. She walked in them from her bedroom to his office. At his order as they reached the door of the conference room, she dropped to her knees, then to her belly and crawled into the room, the leash in Glenís hand taut.

Lined up were fancy chairs. In each sat a slave. One chair was empty, awaiting the Master. On his right, the ranking slave, Georgina. Next was Selene, Sarah, Jane and the three slaves from his office, Sara Mae, Opal and his personal assistant, Becky. Glen pushed Amyís head down with his foot, giving her only an instant glimpse of the tribunal she faced.

It pained him to treat her in this fashion, but he was making up for the months that she had been given over to be handled by Georgina and Selene. In order to maintain the proper relationships it was a necessary evil. He had carefully briefed Amy as to what was expected of her, up to a point. He kept one surprise to himself.

A jerk on her leash stopped Amy in mid floor. She pressed her nose to the stone until Glen had seated himself and ordered, "Begin!"

Amy crawled to Glenís feet, raising her head only to lick and kiss them. Head down, she move to Georginaís feet. One by one she abased herself to each of the slaves. With the last foot kissed and licked, she backed away to the center of the room, her nose dragging across the stone floor. When she stopped, she pressed her nose firmly into the stone again.

In a loud, clear voice she addressed them. "Master, Mistresses, as you know, a slave is not permitted the luxury of an excuse. This slave has committed grave offenses against all of you. I have been punished in the past for lying and other prohibited actions. There are still unpunished crimes that this slave has committed, for which I will beg punishment. I owe my Master and all of my Mistresses an abject apology for things I have said and done. I make this apology in public. At your convenience I will answer your individual complaints in private, with no limits on my punishments."

"I am truly sorry for everything, every mistake, every lie, every resistance to, or violation of your orders. I have sworn a slave oath to my Master to beg each of you to punish me in a manner equal to or greater than the enormity of my misdeeds. Just so you know, I was offered my freedom. I refused for several reasons. I love my Master and I wish to become a wife he can be proud of. I have told him that I am a slave first, then a wife."

"I have embarrassed my Master and driven him away from me. My atonement for those breeches of trust will take many months, if not years to painfully correct. I have serious faults. You will of course continue as my Mistresses, continue to rigidly train me to as close to perfection as I can get. Every person in this room has whip rights over me, the right to punish or torture me in whatever manner you choose."

"However, I will answer directly to Master for my reeducation and rehabilitation. I intend to prove to him that I can first be a willing and obedient slave and then be a loving, willing and obedient wife."

There were some pretty surprised looks on the faces of the women who were watching. None of them had ever expected such a detailed admission of guilt and her obvious resolve to correct and atone at whatever cost.

"Mistress Sara Mae, come forward."

Amy studiously examined the stone inches from her eyes, wondering what was going on. Her nose hurt and she was ready for relief.

Sara Mae knelt before his chair.

"You like a regular whipping. Are you any good with a whip?

"Yes, Master. I have practiced a great deal."

ĎVery well. Take my slave to the dungeon, make her select a top tier whip and then whip her back to this room."

"Yes, Master."

She leaped to her feet, grabbed Amyís leash and tugged her to her feet. She set off for the dungeon at a fast pace, nearly running. Amyís hobble chain slithered and rolled, banging painfully against her ankles, nearly tripping her several times. She wanted to beg permission to slow down, but she knew no good would come of it. Somehow she made it without falling, only to be faced with a wall of hooks from which hung dozens and dozens of whips. Sara Mae told her, "You have 30 seconds. Make it a good one or you will suffer."

Almost blindly she reached for the top row, guessing the worst whips would be at the top. Sara Mae grunted. She knew from long experience that Amy would regret her choice bitterly.

Glen had told Sara Mae before the ceremony just what her role would be. Amy would not be harmed but by the time she got back up the stairs she would smart all over her body. Almost any whip in the room would have been up to the task at hand, the "choice" a bit of window dressing for Amyís benefit.

She was panting when she crawled through the door. Sara Mae made her whip crackle and snap for sound effects, but everyone in the room could see that she had been expertly, if lightly, thrashed.

The leash directed her to Glenís feet. Automatically she kissed and licked them again.

"Say, I accept you as my Master and husband." She accented the command with a slash across her hips.

Amy responded, "I accept you as my Master and husband."

Again the whip slashed. The leash directed her to Georginaís feet. She accepted Georgina as her Mistress.

Sara Mae could have merely followed along from that point, but she insisted - perhaps remembering some slight - on telling her what to say and whipping her at the feet of each of the other Mistresses. Nor, was she done. Beginning at the far end, each of the women in turn said, "I accept this slave," which of course called for another whip lash. She stopped with Georgina.

Glen stood up. "Bring in the table," he ordered. Four men who had waited near the door came in, carrying the top and the massive legs for a ten-foot long platform. Then he ordered, "Fix her."

Chapter 78 -- Consummation

As one, the Mistresses rose from their chairs. Amy still had no idea what was happening or what was about to take place. All that she could think of was that Glen had dreamed up some exotic punishment for her that required the participation of the entire group of Mistresses. She was headed in the right direction, but on the wrong track.

A heavy stand, loaded with lengths of chain was rolled in. Amy could only see feet in her narrow range of vision. She could hear the dull clinking as the chains swung back and forth, but failed to recognize the sound. Slave Fear was sapping her thinking process. She fought the urge to yell and demand an explanation.

The bare feet moved closer and closer to her, their very presence in her narrow range of vision frightening. She shrieked in surprise when she felt the many hands reaching under her, getting a grip and heaving her bodily into the air. She caught a glimpse of the table before a hood slipped over her head and locked at her neck. A penis gag attached to the hood and big enough to choke a horse was forced into her screaming mouth, muting her cries.

Chains clattered and rattled as they were linked to the table legs and to the cuffs on her four limbs. The experienced hands had her tight as a drum in a few seconds. A set of links pulled her hood and her encased head toward the end of the table. There was no padding in the hood and none on the table. Nothing to mitigate the hard flat surface that supported her stinging back and thighs. With a sinking feeling, Amy was putting two and two together and slowly realizing that she was getting† something she had begged for. She remembered her exact words, "Glen, when the time is right, I want to be shackled, whipped up the stairs, from the dungeon to your bedroom. I want to be chained to your bed with the chains so tight they sing. I want you to gag me so that I can scream and then fuck me until I faint."

So far, the only thing different was that she was in his office, rather than the bedroom. Otherwise he had followed her suggestion to the letter. Typical Glen, she thought, always adding his own "little" additions or modifications. What next?

Faintly through her hood she heard her Mistresses giggling and laughing. The uproar was Glenís fault as he was calmly stripping off his clothes, exposing himself to his slaves before he climbed onto the table, between Amyís wide open and welcoming legs. He knelt up, his prick waving, and slapped her thigh.

"Can you hear me?"

The taut chain to her hood barely allowed her to nod.

"I have told you in private that I love you. Now, publically, I am telling your Mistresses that I love you, so that there is no misunderstanding of my motives. If you were not my slave, we would have done this in private. To impress upon you the fact that you are a member of this family, this group, we are going to consummate our marriage publically before your Mistresses - and with their help."

He slapped her thigh again. "Do you have any objection to a public consummation of our marriage?"

Without hesitation she shook her head, fighting the taut chain.

"Do you beg the humiliation of being fucked in this fashion before your Mistresses?"

Again there was an immediate nod.

"Would you like to have them help me in making you my wife?"

She nodded without hesitation, now fully aware of the trap that Glen had sprung. Her brain was barely functioning, trying to parse what she had just heard,† but in a few moments she would be wishing they would find someone else to torment.

Glen gave the signal and hands came out of the blackness, aiming right for her nipples, her clit, her thighs, wiggling in her pussy. One long slim finger went up into her ass, wriggling like a demented worm. In seconds she was gasping for air.

At another signal they stopped as suddenly as they had started. Glen slapped Amyís thigh, getting her attention.

"You are limited to - and have permission for - one orgasm, at the end of our fuck. You are not to beg for one or there will be consequences."

She nodded, knowing she would be left no choice but to face the consequences. She suddenly realized she was starved for love. She had to be to accept this "special event" that Glen had planned. Waves of humiliation washed over her, each driving her up the beach a little further, closer to forbidden orgasms. Fleetingly she worried about what he would do to her for having the multiple orgasm she was sure his touch would trigger.

Finally the hands spread her labia, fingers pinching and tugging, nails scratching,† deliberately arousing her while other hands directed Glenís cock into the proper hole, while still caressing her clit.

She moaned into her gag, vocal evidence that she had already come.

Glen slid into her juices and stopped. He motioned to Georgina at the head of the table. She reached down and released the gag from the hood and drew it out of Amyís mouth. Glen slapped her thigh to get her attention.

"Since you have no control, you will announce the number of orgasms you are having, as you have them. Each forbidden orgasm will be assigned to one of your Mistresses, who will inform me of her idea of a suitable punishment. The one with the best or most novel idea gets you for a full night."

"This first one goes to Georgina. Selene is waiting expectantly for your next one. Donít even think about whatís going to happen if you have a multiple."

That scared her. Selene had lots of reasons to punish her. Adding another could trigger serious problems for Amy. She had been threatened with another session in the box that Selene had been delivered in. One had been enough. Selene had designed the box. Surely she could come up with attachments that Amy wouldnít want to face.

Glen slid the rest of the way into her, bottoming out on her cervix. She was swamp-wet and tight and coming again. From under her hood came the words, "Two, Master."

Glen pulled out, almost triggering a third. He pointed to a cabinet and Sara Mae returned in a moment with a box of condoms. She did the honors, opening the package and using her mouth to roll the condom down the full length of his cock, licking up- Amyís juices as she went..

The condom would avoid direct contact between his prick and her cunt, other than his thighs against hers, He expected she could control that at least. She could, but barely. Glen established a stroke and motioned to the Mistresses.

The hands came back, this time pinching and squeezing, Nails raked across her flesh, leaving a blanket of scratches. Amy felt a feather touch the palm of her hand. She clutched, closing her fingers, trying to catch the feather. In response she got a sharp rap on the knuckles with a ruler. Meekly she opened her hand, dissolving into gales of laughter as the relentless feather was joined by others, on her sides, her breasts, her belly. A feather went up her nose, causing her to sneeze uncontrollably. >When the feathers found the arch of her foot, she came again. She gasped for breath and eked out a "Three, Master."

Weird Amy was enjoying every second of her travail. One of her clearer thoughts was, ĎNobody would believe me if I told them how I am being treated. Theyíd think I was on acid, or meth. Things like this donít happen on your wedding night.í

At the same moment, time began to warp and she thought she was back in her cage, chained and gagged, listening to the Judge making her a slave and Glenís wife at the same time. She actually moved, remembering the blue lightning suppositories she had suffered.

Amy reached eight before she was allowed the final climax of the evening. The ministrations of her Mistresses had exhausted her, to the point where she fainted as number 9 rippled through her body, the one orgasm she had been allowed.

As first Mistress, Georgina made the decision. Amy would spend the night on the table. Any of the Mistresses could visit her, for whatever purpose.

Glen refused to countermand the order, but he spent the entire evening at her side, watching over her. The mere fact of his being there rebuffed two or three of the Mistresses who otherwise would have visited her, perhaps to add to her discomfort..

The rock-hard table was a punishment in itself, but Amy would have slept soundly on a bed of nails. Glen had plenty of time to debate with himself as to whether he was going too far, too fast, with Amy. He remembered her exact words when she asked for consummation and he had followed her wishes, although adding some drums and flourishes that she hadnít expected.

To ensure participation, he had polled each of the Mistresses, describing their part in the ceremony. Their response was unanimous and ultimately resulted in the mass descent on Amy.

Not poor Amy. Not sweet suffering Amy. Wife-slave Amy, bad slave Amy, getting a foretaste of her immediate future. She not only knew it was coming, she reassured Glen by begging for it, refusing any protection from her Mistresses, all of whom were intent on revenge. Her logic was irrefutable.

"Master, if you put limits on what they can do to me, they will claim favoritism, and rightly. Thereís no way you can protect me from the over-tight cuff, the too hard whip stroke or any of the myriad of little digs they can inflict even if you were standing right there watching. I must grovel at their feet, admit my faults and beg punishment. You taught me that a slave has no excuses. They will teach me obedience and willingness. The lessons will be harsh, but I do not deserve to be pampered. The fact that you have said that you love me will be the anchor that will bring me safely to your side."

When morning came, Glen was the first to reach her side. She lay, unmoving, her eyes hidden in the hood, actually savoring the pain of lying in chains on the flat table. Her mind followed her husband - Yes, her Master - as he loosened and removed the chains binding her to the table top. She felt his hands at her throat, a click, and she could see again, blinking against the morning sun streaming in the window.

She was a stiff as the table top, so he helped her down, holding her as she regained her balance and put her weight on her feet. He turned her in his arms and kissed her.

"You had nine orgasms, one for each Mistress and the free one I gave you. By any chance did you plan it that way?"

She buried her head in his shoulder. This was no time to lie, or deny. Her "Yes, Master" was barely above a whisper.

"You will tell each Mistress that it was intentional and ask for an extra punishment for disobeying my, and their orders."

"Yes, Master."

"You have 20 minutes to put breakfast on the table in the apartment. Do I need to leash you and walk you there?"

"No, Master. I will not run away."

"Remember, there are security cameras watching every move you make."

"I will willingly obey you, Master."

"Then, why are you just standing there?"

Chains clattering she ran for the door, her "Thank you, Master" floating back over her shoulder.. Three cameras zeroed in on her and an alarm sounded in the Security room. The technician already had his finger on the emergency button when Glen appeared in the doorway and waved, obviously not having a problem.

Amy hurried, Almost by accident she discovered that if she kept her ankle hobble taut she could save herself a lot of problems. She had to swing her legs wide in an awkward half hop, but it kept her from adding more bruises to her legs and feet.

The door was locked. She debated for a second as to whether to ring the bell, but the door opened. Mistress Betsy looked her up and down, then pointedly looked behind Amy, looking for Glen.

Amy fell to her knees and onto her belly, crawling to Betsyís feet to kiss and lick them. She ordered Amy to wash up to her knees. Amy hoped that Betsy would give her a chance to explain her haste, but she was in no mood to allow the slave an inch. Her jealousy factor was hovering between nine and 10, regardless of the fact that she had been one of the most willing of the group that made Amyís consummation a nightmare. She should have been calmed down by now, but she saw Amy as displacing her, with a one way ticket to the slave pool.

Fortunately for Amy, Betsy had already gotten breakfast ready, waiting only for Glen to come home. Amy could smell the coffee as she licked, knowing that her chances of getting a cup were about zero. All Betsy had to do was lodge a complaint against her and she would be eating stale bread and water out of a dog dish.

To make it worse, Betsy was the last Mistress on the list, meaning she would have ample time to dream up excruciating punishments to make Amyís life miserable. Just from this one incident she realized that Betsy at the end of the line would be a dangerous Mistress to cross.

This was something she was only beginning to realize. She though that the minimum contact she had had with Betsy would give her little to complain about. She had absolutely no inkling that Betsy was consumed with jealousy. While Glen knew it, he hadnít had an opportunity to warn her. Now it might be too late.

Betsy made her crawl to the kitchen. Amy was ravenously hungry, the food smells making her mouth awash with saliva. She knew she dared not beg for a single bite, even after Glen arrived.

When he did come in, the two slaves were kneeling on opposite sides of the table. Glenís eyes narrowed. He smelled trouble. He pointed at Betsy and motioned her to follow him into the hall, shutting the door.

He turned on her, "And just what is your jealousy index this morning?"

Betsy dropped to her knees, She had realized a little too late that Glen was on her case.

"Eight, Master."

"Ha! From the look on your face itís at least a nine. Go get a whip. Crawl."

She was a fast crawler, returning with a whip in her teeth, quite obviously one of the more serious slave whips. She gained her feet, knowing the routine and bent over, providing the most tempting target.

The full arm slice across her ass cheeks triggered a shriek that Betsy knew Amy would hear. She gritted out the required: "Thank you Master for punishing me."† For the moment her main concern was dousing the fiery brand across her ass. She vowed silently to take as much hide from Amy, the moment she got the chance.

It was early in the morning, but Glen was fully alert and adept at reading slave minds. He walked to the kneeling shave and lifted her chin with his hands, making her look him in the eye.

"You kept my slave on the front doorstep for 10 minutes when she arrived here on my orders. Then you lie to me about your jealousy. Iím reaching the point where I donít trust you, so youíre going to have to work three times as hard to regain my trust. I have a very cushy job to offer you after out previous talk. Amy needs some very specialized training on top of what sheís already had. Youíd be ideal for the job, except for your jealousy. Do you want the job?"

"Yes, Master!"

"All right, hereís how it will work. You keep your jealousy under control for two weeks, staying below a five - my judgement - and the job is provisionally yours. Kick up over five, just once, and you get two weeks in the DB as a star student in the Anger Management Class. Then you go back to the slave pool."

"Further, because I donít quite trust you, you are relieved as a Mistress and revert to slave status. Touch Amy, or try to order her about will result in consequences."

Glen watched her eyes as little spurts of fear crossed them. Her mouth distorted into the typical lemon sucking pucker. When he mentioned trust, her eyes dropped, but each time he jerked her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

Glen pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Dwight at the DB. "Dwight, have you got a quicky course for a jealous slave?

"Got an expert. She can do more in 24 hours than a platoon of psychiatrists."

"Can you send over someone to pick her up? Low key, no public rape. Itís the one that did the tour with me some weeks ago."

"Hmm, Iíve got a couple of things Iíve been saving, with her name on them. You sure you donít want to leave her for a couple of weeks?"

"If she screws up you can have her full bore. "

Betsy listened with mounting horror, fully realizing the import of the one-sided conversation she was listening to. She knew only that she was bound for the dreaded DB.

Chapter 79 -- Revenge

Amy watched as Glen and Becky came through the hall door. One glance at Beckyís sour face and Amy knew instantly that something major had just occurred behind the closed door. Her heartbeat increased as she watched Glen removing Beckyís shackles. She stood in the center of the room, nude, but unencumbered by her usual serving chains. Then he and Becky waited. Glen looked over at Amy.

"Becky is no longer your Mistress. That is all you need to know right now."

"Thank you, Master."

Amy thrilled at the change in status. She had been jealous of Becky from the day they arrived at the castle. Now, something had happened that just might benefit her. Amy was smart enough not to push things. She would find out in due time.

Part of the answer came immediately. The doorbell chimed and three burly guards marched in. Glen pointed at Becky, who stood, head down, awaiting her fate. She wanted to flee, but her legs refused to cooperate. The urge to run evaporated as quickly as it formed, as she knew the penalty for attempted escape. In seconds the practiced hands had locked her in heavy irons, locked a hood over her head and attached a strong chain to her collar as a leash. She made no resistance, knowing it futile, as they pulled her out the door. She already regretted not committing suicide after her first visitorís tour of the DB.

Amy took it all in, recognizing the men as guards from the Discipline Barracks. She speculated frantically, trying to make sense of what she had just seen. All she knew was that Becky was headed for the DB. Why, and for how long were matters that were none of her business, but still she wondered.

Glen closed the door behind them.

"Finish your breakfast and clean up the dishes and the kitchen. You are in charge of the apartment and I expect it to sparkle. Sarah and Jane will help you. They will have specific orders, so you will not attempt to direct them. They are still your Mistresses, so I expect you to act accordingly. One more thing. With Becky gone, you will be expected to assume her duties. At the top of that list at the moment is a blow job, so get on your knees. Orgasms are forbidden."

"Yes, Master," she said, but instead of kneeling she quickly opened a drawer and retrieved a condom. Then she knelt and gingerly rolled the rubber tube onto his cock, avoiding touching him as much as possible. Glen grinned to himself, realizing he had a very smart wife, who in the midst of the chaos of their consummation had learned the condom trick to avoid his touching her. She would climax anyway if he had his way. He reasoned that it was all well and good to love your wife, but it didnít hurt to have a hold or two over her.

Her version of a blow job was exquisite. Somehow, somewhere she had learned enough variations and movements to send Glenís blood pressure off the charts. His intent to force her to come nearly got bested by her superb mouth. And when she took the head past her gag point and down her throat, it felt like the doors of heaven had opened. She swallowed and Glen could feel it, like the suction of a milking machine. She didnít do the Ďgluck, gluck, gluckí that the pro cock suckers used, she didnít need to. She was providing more stimulation than any porn star.

She swallowed repeatedly, her throat muscles massaging his ramrod until, like priming a pump, her ministrations triggered a blast of jism that went directly into the tip of the rubber. He backed off to let her breathe. The slick condom came out of her throat, doing some massaging of its own, enough to drive Amy past the point of no return. She yelled against the cock still in her mouth as her face, neck and breasts mottled and reddened with the physical signs of her climax.

He pulled out of her suctioning lips, the end of the condom bulging with his sperm. "One, Master," she said contritely.

Glen fumbled for a moment, sliding the rubber off his softening prick. He held it where she could see it and tied the upper end in a knot. "This is your lunch. You will keep it warm in your mouth until noon, then find me. I want to watch you drink it."

Amy squirmed in humiliation and arousal until Glen gave her a warning look. She was instantly still, but her mind was racing. She opened her mouth to accept his "gift," carefully shoving it into one cheek to avoid an accidental puncture. After being denied his come for months, being this close was almost torture.

"Get to work," was his next order.

"Yesh, Maahster," was her somewhat garbled response. Glen made her stand and hold her breasts up. He rapped them sharply with a carriage whip, Stoically she accepted the penalty. His reprimand hurt as much as the whip.

"A slave ALWAYS speaks clearly and distinctly. You, especially!" One more reminder that she must always set the example.

"Yes, Master!" With perfect diction. The liquid in the condom moved as if it was alive. To Amy it was a constant feeling of slippage, losing her grip on the slick rubber. She became aware that she was tasting her own juices, in part causing the slippery feeling,. Ironically her juices, the product of arousal, were themselves arousing her.

At exactly noon, Amy lay on her belly, an armís length from the door to Glenís office. She reached forward and knocked gently on the door. After an endless pause the door opened and she was told to enter. Nose to the floor she squirmed her way to Glenís feet. As she kissed and licked them, someone picked up her leash.

The leash turned her, showing her bare feet. Slave, or Mistress? It made no difference, feet were feet, except for the humiliation if it was a slave. She kissed and licked. It was Georgina who was holding the leash, which now directed her to Seleneís feet, and on down the line. Amy resigned herself to one more public humiliation.

Glen ordered, "Remove the condom from the slaveís mouth. Inspect it carefully for leaks."

"There are no leaks, Master," Georgina replied.

"Slave, stick out your tongue."

"What say you Mistresses? Is this slave worthy of my seed?"

A chorus of "Noís" answered him.

There was a pause. Then one voice spoke up. "Master, if we dilute it with our spit, it would be suitable for a slave."

This time the "Yes" was unanimous.

"First Mistress Georgina, pour a few drops on the slaveís tongue. Have her transfer it to your mouth. Dilute it properly with your spit and return it to her, Watch carefully that she swallows everything. Then lead her to the other Mistresses to do the same thing. If she spills one drop she will be caned in your presence."

Amyís personal opinion was that this was far beyond cruel and unusual punishment. Since her opinion had zero value, she was not allowed to protest. Having to taste her Masterís spunk only to have to give it up to be diluted before she was allowed to swallow was far worse in her mind than some of the "real" punishments she had suffered.

Seven times, seven mouths participated in her embarrassing and debasing ritual. The eighth chair was empty. Ex-Mistress Becky was in the clutches of the DB. Only Glen and Georgina knew how long she would be on the missing list.

Georgina led her leashed slave back to Glenís feet.

"Turn the condom inside out. Lick it clean, keeping everything in your mouth, without swallowing. When you are finished, Georgina will accept and dilute it and return it to you to swallow."

As they watched this final ritual, Glen had an idea.

"Youíve already sucked your juices off this condom. Perhaps a fresh supply of juice would serve as dessert. Two fingers into your cunt, lick them clean and return for a fresh supply until I tell you to stop." He turned to the Mistresses and began discussing Amy as if she wasnít in the room, listening to every word.

"Amy is temporarily in charge of my apartment. Becky is presently a guest in the DB. Georgina, Sarah and Jane will continue to work in the apartment, under my orders only. She has been told not to try to order you or tell you what to do."

"Her punishment period will end in ten days, starting tomorrow. Each of you will have her for 24 hours. Selene has her for 48 hours and Georgina also 48, as she is picking up Beckyís vacancy."

"I will say that anything goes. However, I feel all of you are level-headed enough not to carry her punishments to extremes. Everyone in this room wants revenge for her misdeeds, not to mention the embarrassment she has caused us. Before you get too elaborate with your planned revenge, remember she has been soundly punished in the past. I want her in one piece, with all her appendages and no serious damage to her hide when I get her back."

Amy broke into the conversation with a moan that raised every hair in the room. She felt like she was on an auto jack. Every time her fingers went from cunt to mouth, she made one click toward climax. Listening to what was going to happen to her was doubling the clicks until she lost it.

"Iíll take care of that one," Glen announced.


For Glen the ten days went by in a flash, even though there were several major events. The first was a report from Dwight.

"Your PA screwed up, first class."

"What happened?"

"She got into a discussion with the teacher that turned violent. We havenít been able to determine just why, even after repeated looks at the security tapes, but she pushed the panic button, slugged the teacher with a chair and tried to scratch the guardís eyes out."

"We havenít interrogated her yet, but sheís already booked for assault, assault on an officer and attempted escape."

"Can I get her a lawyer?"

"You are the only person outside the DB and the Chief of Security who knows about this. This is an internal discipline matter that we do not and will not make public for any reason. The fine print in your contract prohibits you from telling anyone anything about it. I know you want to pull rank to save her, but we donít work that way. Even the board canít reverse what we do, as thatís in OUR contract. Iím sorry to have to be so blunt."

A bit reluctantly, Glen acknowledged, "No problem, Dwight. I realize you are just doing your job. She was a damn good PA."

"So Iíve heard. Sheís been doing a good job of Ďentertainingí the staff while we figure out what to do with her."

"Keep me posted. If thereís any possibility of leniency Iíd appreciate it."

"I doubt it, given the serious charges, but Iíll certainly keep it in mind. The big problem with letting her loose is that sheíd be a walking time bomb, waiting to tell the world what we do."

"Yeah, thatís a factor."


Several of the girls didnít use their full 24 hours, so Glen took advantage of the "free" time to indoctrinate Amy with some of Beckyís tricks. Amy fiercely resisted the temptation to ask what was happening to Becky and why they had picked her up, but she knew Glen well enough to know that she would suffer painfully for any expressed curiosity, so she kept her questions to herself, assuming that the grapevine would come up with an answer eventually.

That turned out to be a false assumption, as Glen said nothing about it, and none of the staff knew anything beyond the fact that she had been arrested. Glen was aware that she had received a five year sentence, cut from 10 years because of Glenís plea for leniency. She was soon all but forgotten in the press of other matters.

In his first visit, Glen had seen a slave who had been placed in the DB the day it opened, more than 10 months ago. She had been wearing a much more stringent set of serving chains. Dwight gave him the name of the artisan who had made the set. Glen measured Amy, refusing to tell her why. Georgina was sent to the Mall to order them, and then returned several days later to pick them up. Glen locked them away, ready for the day when Amy screwed up again.

That event seemed almost to have a mind of its own. Amy was toeing the mark almost perfectly. With only Sarah and Janeís punishment days left, not a single complaint had been lodged against her. In fact each of the Mistresses had praised her highly. Even Selene, who still remembered Amyís "Iíll kill her!" and having to answer to her "whore" appellation, made nice and admitted to Glen that Amy was a changed person.

Other than a grumble or two that she was "getting off easy," Amy sailed through the last two days with a near perfect score.

To celebrate, the Mistresses at Glenís urging planned a dinner. Amy, the still somewhat tarnished guest of honor, was allowed to sit at the foot of the table, a step up from her usual kneeling† beside the table..

Amy had made an appointment with Georgina. She knelt before the First Mistress and detailed a surprise she wanted to give Glen. Georgina thought it was a great idea, and volunteered to help carry it off.

That night, after the banquet, Georgina made her excuses and left, just a few minutes before Glen and Amy left to return to the apartment. She let herself in and disappeared into one of the spare rooms that rarely was used.

Glen had some paper work that needed attention so Amy left him there and went to find Georgina.

Glen looked up at a slight sound. Amy was standing, posed, framed in the open door, the soft light escaping around her. She was nude.

He looked at her for several seconds, his thoughts racing. The male in him wanted to bound from the deep softness of the chair, sweep her in his arms without pausing on the way to the bed. Neither of them moved. She broke the silence. "How do I look?"

She gave no indication of breaking the pose, the only visible change the smooth rise and fall of her superb breasts, the nipples boring upward from the shadows, hard, completely erect. The soft bulk of her shoulder-length wig fell mostly down her back, an errant strand following the line of her neck, reaching the upper curve of her left breast.

Glen shifted his legs imperceptibly, suddenly conscious that his cock was stiffening against the restraint of his shorts. The evening had taken an unexpected twist. The vague anticipation of the direction the evening would take had suddenly sharpened.

The seductive smile on her lips was a mask. Behind it seethed a jumble of emotions. Need... Fear... Anxiety... even as she smiled at the man seated before her. She watched him, taking in the effect her nude body was obviously having on him. Behind the smile Amy was cursing herself for a fool, railing at her stupidity. What was she thinking of? Unbidden offering her defenseless body - not just naked, but totally helpless.

She moved her arms slightly, feeling the steel - those damned handcuffs! The bands shifted loosely on her wrists. She stood there on display, knowing that despite their slackness the cuffs were locked. Her wrists, her hands were hopelessly lost to her, leaving her powerless to protect herself. Georgina had made sure she was captive to the steel. She stared at Glen, searching his face for hope, even as her smile threatened to crack into a scream of fear.

"Oh, dummy you've blown it this time!" She could taste her fear, brassy in her dry mouth, Glen stared back at her, his poker face as put on as her smile. The one part of him that had moved when this naked girl had suddenly appeared in the doorway had been his cock. His eyes were locked with hers. He didn't dare to look down, certain that his slacks were obscenely tented, certain too that she had seen it, her smile the evidence of her amusement at his reaction to her ploy.

He stared, savoring the beauty of her pose, even as his rattled brain caught something out of place, something... in her posture. Impulsively he ordered her to turn around, the words hushed, but firm.

Amy tried. She fought the fear, trying to raise her eyes to his again, desperate to read compassion in his gaze. Glen rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving the naked form before him. She had remembered that first night. He remembered it too, but she had reproduced the tableau that had so caught his attention.

"Turn around."

She heard the words, but nowhere in her brain was there a coherent cell that could understand them through the panic. She shivered infinitesimally, as if cold, a muscle vibrating under the smooth skin of her inner thigh, taut, prepared to bolt and run. Insanely a passage from a book she had read sliced through her muddled mind, "A master does not repeat an order."

She turned, exposing her only adornment. The sight wrenched at his heart. Amy, who wore his chains night and day, offering herself to him in just a pair of cuffs. Glen instinctively recognized Amy's fears, sensing her terror of the unknown but still underestimated its grip on her.

"Remember," she whispered, "you promised you would never hit me in the face with your fists." "Glen... Please... Don't...† touch... me... yet..."

"A slave should expect to be used as a punching bag." Glen said it deliberately, guessing he was close to her problem, knowing his words could trigger flight, daring it to bring her out of her panic. Her eyes flicked to his face again, accepting the invitation to make eye contact. Half defiantly she answered with a question, "Isn't that what men expect from us?"

"You didn't HAVE to make yourself helpless."

"But, this is what you expect of your slave." There was no hint of a question, the statement carrying several hidden meanings that both understood. Amy moved her arms, making the cuffs clash, the link jangling, drawing his eyes again. "I AM a submissive. That's why..." She didn't need to finish, or explain. The cold metal spoke volumes for her.

"You ought to be spanked!"

The words were almost... not quite, but almost enough to set off the orgasm seething in her belly. She was on fire inside from the waves of domination he exuded. The man of her dreams. The man who controlled her, mastered her, dominated her. He. Her Master. He wanted to spank her. She nodded in agreement, fighting to hide the eagerness of her acceptance.

Chapter 80 -- Just For Old Timeís Sake

Amy watched as Glen went to the kitchen to get a chair. As he returned, she stepped forward and fluidly knelt at his feet. He arranged himself and then motioned her across his lap. Both remembered the spanking he had delivered on her 24th birthday, and her violent climax on the 25th stroke - "One to COME on!"

"Are you going to come with every swat?" he demanded.

"Whatever Master wishes." Butter wouldnít melt in her mouth.

"Hmmn. Bare hand, bare ass. Touch you and you come. Sounds like a plan. When you run out of steam, let me know."

He swung. She came. She pulled together enough to speak the required ritual. "One. Thank you, Master. May I have another please, harder."

†She moved her shackled wrists pointedly more out of the way.

"Two, Thank you..."


"Fifteen, Thank you, Master. I canít take another one."

"Thatís it then, unless you can muster up another orgasm when I stick my cock way up your pussy."

Amy was full of surprises, "Sixteen, Master."

"Damn, another condom job!"

So he did, and they did, and Amy came twice more before passing out, loving every moment. One and possibly both were multiple orgasms, but Amy didnít come down enough to establish boundaries for counting purposes. The second one drained her dry. Glen removed her wrist shackles and made her comfortable.

Georgina knocked and came in without waiting. Glen looked up in surprise, not expecting her at that time of night. She took over caring for Amy, feeling for her pulse and listening to her steady, loud breathing.

"Were you surprised, Master?" she asked.

"Of course. It was so much like our first night together. It wasnít a date. I just pulled rank on her and took her home. The rest was just about what just happened. Except for the spanking. She didnít get that until the second night."

"Did she come as many times that first time, Master?"

"Not as many, but she came when I touched her on the shoulder. Hey, how come you know so much about how many times she came?"

"Master, I am guilty of eavesdropping. She asked me to keep an eye on her in case you decided to seriously punish her. Sheís still waiting for the other shoe to drop. She thinks you are going to send her home, whether she wants to go or not. She told both

of us that she wants to stay, and she told each of the other girls the same thing during their sessions."

"I told her I had no intention of kicking her out, but sheís still got it in her head that Iím going to do her harm. Sheís like a pendulum, swinging too far both ways."

"Master, I am not a pendulum! Thatís unfair!" This from the bed where Amy was just opening her eyes.

Glen was at her side in one stride. "Look, Orgasm Girl, I am not sending you home. Iím keeping you right here so I can wale some sense into that scatterbrain of yours. You heard me say, ĎI love you.í I do, and I will keep right on loving you, but youíve got to get off this ĎHeís going to send me homeí kick Youíre making everybody think Iím being mean to you." Georgina laughed out loud. Glen glared at her until he realized what he had just said.

"Master, if you count up the number of punishment hours this slave has spent in your house, itís a hellova bunch. Sheís put up with your crap for months, when she should have been the only one in your bed - not the only one NOT in your bed. You are as pig-headed as any man can be, because you were ignoring your wife, instead of making a serious effort to find out what was wrong with her. A whole lot of her problems trace right back to you..."

Amy interrupted, "Georgina, please, you donít need to get into hot water defending me. Iíll take my lumps from my husband but I donít want anyone else hurt. I am the slave. A slave has no excuses. I was wrong, and I was punished for it. End of story,"

"No itís not the end of the story! You are defending him, when he should be on his knees apologizing for the lousy way heís treated you, the total lack of sympathy or compassion and the lack of common sense care!"

"Whoa, gals! I was indeed wrong, and I do owe my wife an apology. I recently turned over a new leaf and Iím trying my best to be a loving husband. Youíre still fighting the old Glen. This new one is on your side."

Georgina spoke up, "Then what about Becky? What did you do for her?" Glen sighed and shook his head. "You know sheís in the DB.† I can be fired for what Iím about to say. She was sent for one day of jealousy management training. She hit an instructor and a guard. She was sentenced to ten years. I managed to get it reduced to five.† There is absolutely nothing else I can do for her without getting myself fired. Even the Directors donít have any say in there. This does not go out of this room. "

"Yes, Master."

Georgina apologized. "Master, Iím sorry I doubted you. I thought you had either put her in yourself, or abandoned her."

Glen made a face. "I might as well have abandoned her. She may not survive five years, and even if she does she wonít be worth a shit to anybody when she comes out,. I did send her, for one day. Her jealousy was out of control and I didnít trust her overseeing Amy."

"Thank you, Master."

"Now, Georgina, if you will remove yourself to your bedroom at the far end of the wing, close the door, put earplugs in and stay in your room for the rest of the night, I intend to celebrate the consummation of our marriage in PRIVATE!"

Georgina came to the bed, bent down and kissed Amy on the lips. She prostrated herself† before Glen and kissed and licked his shoes, declaring him her Master for the thousandth time.

Glen looked down at his blushing bride and smiled. He started to remove his tie. Amy was instantly on her feet. "Let me do that. It is my job to undress you."

She removed his clothes and hung them up or put them in the hamper. Glen enjoyed every touch, especially because each touch was driving Amy toward another orgasm. At last he was naked. Amy paused. Forlornly she asked, "What do I do now, Master?"

Glen chuckled. Her lessons had proceeded just so far, no further.

"You join me in the shower, wash me with your body, then brush my teeth and floss them. Thatís what your arch-rival did."

"Am I still getting free rides on orgasms, Master?

"Yes, darling."

"Uh, I like it when you talk dirty like that. Anyway, letís try that shower bit. Sounds like fun."

It was fun. She got the idea before she could turn on the water and adjust it. One would have sworn she was frigid as she accomplished her task without even getting her nipples hard. However, Glen, the center of attention, after getting tit rubbed and pussy pushed all over from scalp to toenails, for a change was the one panting and trying to hold back a massive discharge. Drying him with a warm towel almost did him in, but he held out until they reached the bed. Then he "suggested" that she might like a mouthful of fresh come, right from the spigot.

Amy swallowed and swallowed, obviously enjoying but cold as a fish. Glen eyed her askance. "Whatís with Orgasm Girl? Did I do something?"

"Glen, Master, Iím lying here on top of the bed without a stitch of clothes on, and not... one... single... bondage... device. No rope, no steel, no leather."

Glen made a face. This was not the time or place to discuss her bondage. He knew she was doing it to keep him aroused, but almost against his better judgement he decided to talk it out with her.

"Sweetheart, you are my wife. You donít need steel and leather and rope and..."

"Oh, yes I do, Master." she interrupted. "Master, I am your slave. You have all my possessions, you own them, and you own ME! No Master in his right mind would† leave his slave loose, so that she could get in trouble."

"Youíre still my wife." It didnít sound very convincing.

"So? Would you like your wife wandering the streets, a succulent target for a rape? Would you like to see your wife masturbating on a security camera tape that dozens of people have already seen?"

"No, I wouldnít, I admit. I was giving you a limited amount of freedom, as part of my apology for the way Iíve treated you and had the others treat you."

"Master, the punishments I received, I had earned. You knew why I was acting up, but you also know I as a slave had no excuse for such terrible behavior. I knew my lies would haunt me and I was only too right."

Amy started to cry, a forbidden act by a slave. Glen took her in his arms and hugged her tight, for the moment ignoring the breaking of a rule.

"Amy, darling I love you. I want you, as my wife, to be happy. You can have your freedom in a moment. I owe you that much - and more!"

"Master, with all due respect, you are not listening to me, or my heart. Freedom means you will send me away and I will never see you again. A few minutes ago I very pointedly mentioned to you that there wasnít one restraint anywhere on my body. You just about ignored it. You want to know what would make me happy? Take me to the dungeon, hang me in chains and whip the shit out of me! Then Iíll know you love me as much as I love you!"

"Slave, dear," he said with considerable sarcasm, "Be careful what you ask for..."

"You might get it," she finished for him. "I sure as hell donít see any signs of your so-called retribution. Here I am waving my arms and legs freely, without a shackle in sight."

"Be careful," he warned.

"Poo! The big bad wolf. Iím supposed to be setting an example for the troops. To do that I need lots of chains and daily whippings, and other things..."

Just then a chain landed with a thud across her belly. She squealed at the cold metal. She looked at Glen in time to see a second chain headed for her breasts. It thunked and suddenly her nipples sprang to life.

Glen sprang as well landing on top of Amy and knocking most of the wind out of her sails. His fingers flew, finding every ticklish spot on her body, but concentrating on her feet. As soon as she got her breath she started shrieking, then laughing, then shrieking again. More chain appeared on the bed as if by magic. Padlocks locked. Amy was quickly turned into a spool of chain.

It didnít take long for her to cry Ďuncle.í

Smugly, Glen decreed her punishment. "You will apologize and ask to have a length of chain removed. You will keep count and when the appropriate parts of your body are uncovered, you will apologize again and beg the whip on them. When your legs can be opened, you will apologize yet again and you will beg for an appropriate number of whip strokes on your pussy. If, for any reason I decide that the number of whip strokes is inappropriate, the cane will be substituted for the whip."

"Once your pussy is properly tenderized, you will repeat your apology and beg your Master to ĎPlease, fuck the shit out of me.í You in turn will be required to perform a slave fuck, which if the slightest bit unsatisfactory will be followed by a session with you hanging from the ceiling in a spread eagle posture, where you will beg for your well deserved whipping or caning. When the last five are announced, the words, Ďhard,í Ďharderí and Ďvery hardí will be added to your vocabulary."

Glen paused, then added a kicker. "If you fail in any portion of this punishment, you will be repeating the slave fuck for a live audience. Your Mistresses will judge your performance and suggest suitable training to overcome your faults. Iím sure one or more of them would be happy to volunteer to take you in hand. "

"Oh, you will have a choice. You can accept a Mistress as a trainer or I will train you. I guarantee my methods are harsher and I hit much harder, so which will it be?"

"A slave would be honored to be trained by her Master."

"You perrhaps donít like the idea of being trained by a Mistress?"

"Master, I am your slave. When your hand lies heavily on me, I can feel your love. When a Mistress trains me, I feel love, but not the love we have. Besides, a Mistress doesnít have a cock to ram into me like Master does."

Glen chuckled. "Guess you never heard of a strap-on."

She didnít answer, in part because she really had never heard of a strap-on cock.


The night was filled with the music of Amyís cries, both of pain and joy. Both were deep in sleep when Georgina knocked on the door at 6 a.m.

Glen rose up and looked across Amyís bound body to the clock. In his gruffest voice he ordered, "Go away! Come back tomorrow!"

Georgina digested the order as she walked back to the kitchen. She busied herself making breakfast. Before long a haggard faced Master , leading a chained and leashed slave, made his† appearance, lured by the smell of a fancy German coffee blend that he had discovered.

Georgina glanced at Amy. She looked like she was worn down, but there was the most beautiful look of satisfaction on her tired face. Georgina smiled to herself. She had experienced Glenís big cock and it was definitely a tool to write home about.

She caught Glenís eye when Amy was distracted from watching her Masterís every move. She pointed at Amy and pointed at the table. Glen nodded, so she set the place for her.† Amy had to be helped into her chair as she was packing a serious weight of chain.

It was a miscellaneous conglomeration of chain, in different lengths, with different size links. There were overlaps and loose ends, but Glen had made do with what was available.

When breakfast was finished, Amy tried to spring up to help Georgina, forgetting her chains long enough to tangle them in the chair, nearly taking Amy, the chains and the chair to the floor. Glen saw to getting Amy and the chair back to normal. As soon as Georgina saw that Amy was all right, she disappeared.

She reappeared, dragging a pile of chain links behind her.

Glen looked at her, "How did you..."

Georgina just pointed, up at the security camera. Glenís secret was not so secret.

Amy looked at the pile of chain and it dawned on her that she was about to get another of her wishes. Glen and Georgina "dressed" her. There was no question that the set was punitive. It weighed three or four times what Beckyís serving chain set had weighed. Amy would know herself well chained, but it was designed so that her hands were free above her waist, so she could be put to work while wearing them. One extra padlock for nighttime would restrain her hands well away from her pussy. Once she was completely locked into the chain set, she knelt at Glenís feet and kissed them. "Thank you, Master for punishing me in this visible way. I am honored to wear your special chains." She moved to Georgina and repeated her thanks.

That evening, Glen held a meeting of the Mistresses. Amy was made to parade before them and then go down the row, allowing each Mistress the opportunity to examine them closely and check the fit. Glen announced that Amy would be wearing her chains for "some time." He cautioned them about assigning work - like washing windows - where her restraints could turn deadly.

Then he dropped a bombshell, "I have several times offered Amy her freedom, She has flatly refused each time. As you know, she loves me and I love her. I canít repeat that often enough. Anyway, she complained about a lack of restraints, pointing out rightly that slaves should be in restraints of some kind all the time. As my wife she has some leeway, but she turned it down flat, saying that as my wife she needs to set an example for the rest of the group."

"She also complained, in effect, that she wasnít being punished as often and as hard as she thought she should be. This amounted to questioning my judgement as her Master. Last evening she learned the hard way that I do not tolerate that sort of criticism. Before the evening was over she was vehemently apologizing for her words, and begged more whipping."

You, as her supervisors, will continue as you have. Any rule violations are to be reported to me and will be punished with double penalties. She is a slave, mine or not, and should be treated as such, or you will answer for it."