Down
and Dirty
by Raul Roget
The electronics at the gate picked up an unannounced vehicle. Master Allen was alerted and two of the security guards took up positions where they could cover the arrival. In a few minutes the nose of a late model SUV appeared through the dust. The driver hesitated when he saw the two armed men, then drove into the parking area. The guards remained in position as a man got out from behind the wheel and a woman opened the other door and stepped onto the ground.
Master Allen didn’t recognize either of them. He made sure his pistol was secure in the belt at his back and walked out the door to greet them. He glanced casually around to confirm that not a single slave was in sight. The two were looking around with more than a casual air. He had the feeling they were assessing everything they saw for some specific purpose. They both appeared to be in their late 20s, wearing jeans, boots and western shirts and hats.
They saw him coming and turned to fully face him as his long strides quickly closed the distance between them. His greeting was reserved, polite, introducing himself, but waiting for an explanation of this intrusion.
The response was also polite and unexpected. "Sir, This is Sandra Weller and my name is Dale Longview. We are freelance reporters and we would like to do an article on this ranch."
"I’m pleased to meet you. May I ask why you think my ranch is worth a story?"
Sandra flushed, but she was calm as she said, "We’ve heard that there are some unusual things going on here. That women are being kept as... slaves."
Allen half turned and waved his hand in a wide arc, taking in the entire headquarters area. "Do you see any slaves? Hanging from trees, tied to posts?"
Sandra turned a deeper shade of red as Dale asked, "Then you have nothing to hide?"
"You will be welcome to see for yourself, but first, before I show you around, I’d like to invite you to join me in my office and we’ll talk about it. I’d like to know a bit more about you before I let you loose on the ranch."
Both refused a drink, settling for bottles of pop. When martha brought the cans and glasses in, Allen introduced her, simply as martha, without mentioning that she was first slave. Without any further delay he began questioning them. "Where did you hear about this ranch?" He didn’t expect an answer beyond the usual "protecting my source," but Dale caught him off guard.
"We’re into the BDSM scene. We’ve seen your ad on the porn network and a friend of a friend told us just enough to help us track you down."
Master Allen leaned back in his chair, digesting Dale’s answer. His suspicions were aroused as the whole answer was too pat. He debated throwing them off the ranch, but at the same time realized that anything they published could seriously hurt the operation. For the moment he decided he would go along with their story and see where it led.
"How long have you two been involved in the scene?" The question was offhand, but Allen had decided on the path to follow.
The pair looked at each other. Sandra’s blush had almost disappeared, but the -- to her -- blunt question into their private lives set off a new round of rosy cheeks and the blush extended deep into her shallow cleavage. Dale answered for both, "Sandra has been doing bondage for five years. She got me interested about a year later." Allen watched with considerable secret amusement as her flush became a new wave that you could actually see in motion.
"Which do you prefer, chains, or rope?"
"We like both about equally. There are times when Sandra wants to be completely helpless then we use chains. We use rope sometimes to tease with the possibility of escape if the knots aren’t tight. Actually, we’re both good with knots."
"I take it you’re the dominant partner?"
"Most of the time. We switch once in awhile, but not very often. Sandra gets more of a bang out of submitting than I do."
Poor Sandra was squirming in her chair, mouth open, astounded as their secrets were made an open book. Allen watched her, even as he concentrated on what Dale was saying. He made a bet with himself that her blush was down to her belly button by now, and a side bet that her nipples were hard enough to scratch glass. He was ready to accept her side of the story, but he still had some doubts about how genuine Dale was.
"What’s your favorite position?"
Dale swallowed, realizing that the rancher’s questions were far afield from their stated purpose. He could see the state that Sandra was in and on impulse answered very frankly, intending to rack her humiliation up a level. "She likes to be tied spread eagled on her stomach with a couple of pillows under her hips so I can do her quim from in back." Allen nodded as Sandra looked daggers at Dale.
Allen picked up on the byplay and trumped it. "That’s Sandra’s favorite, but what’s yours? You don’t do missionary all the time do you?"
"No way." I like to lie on my back and make her straddle me and give me a blow job while I blow into her pussy. If she does a good job, I’ll lick her clit."
"Dale!" Sandra interjected, wringing her hands and now really squirming on her chair. Dale kept his face impassive, turning to look her in the eye. She held his gaze for a long moment, then dropped her eyes. It would be her one and only protest during the conversation.
Allen watched the exchange without seeming to. He could see all the signs that Sandra was ready, more than ready, for any sexual activity that presented itself. "What sort of equipment do you have?"
"We haven’t been able to afford much, but I’m handy with tools so I’ve made some spreader bars and used some old belts to make cuffs with. We splurged on a set of police handcuffs and I got her a dog collar. I got a deal on a batch of padlocks that were all keyed together. So with that and lots of chain and miles of rope I keep her pretty well under control."
Some unseen command must have passed between them, because Sandra never raised her eyes from her lap, watching her writhing fingers try to bend a fingernail double.
"Do you have your equipment with you?"
He was finishing the last of his pop, so there was a pause between question and answer. Dale raised his head, never looking at her. "Some of it. I like to keep her handcuffed when we’re in the car. She gets excited just from that."
Sandra’s fingers stilled for only a second, then renewed their attack on the helpless nail.
"Would you mind bringing it in? I’d like to see it. All of it."
That got Sandra’s attention instantly. Her fingers went rigid as she looked directly at Master Allen, an incredulous expression on her face. She instantly guessed exactly what this stranger had in mind and as Dale agreed and hurried to the car she continued to stare at Allen. He ignored her, guessing that her submissive persona had read his mind.
"You two planning to marry?"
The idea of somehow kicking him in the nuts zipped through her brain even as her lips responded with another private bit of information. "He hasn’t asked me. He’s hinted at it, but that’s all."
"And?"
She sighed, already admitting defeat. This interview had gone bad before it even got started and she was working up to a towering rage -- at herself -- for getting involved. "He did ask me to move in with him," she said, almost apologetically.
Master Allen chuckled. "Nowadays that’s about like getting married."
"Yes... S...Sir."
Dale saved the day by walking in with a heavy carton. At Allen’s insistence he laid everything out on the floor. Allen watched Sandra. She was one step from an orgasm and seeing all their toys kept her inching closer. She wondered why he had called them ‘tools.’
Allen gave the toys a professional once over. Nothing appeared new and everything had wear, ranging from a little to obviously heavy usage. He felt a little bit more confident that they were legitimate. That left one more test.
"Would you mind showing me how you put the cuffs on her?"
Sandra jerked as if she had been slugged in the belly. Dale had a momentary puzzled look on his face, but he apparently realized that if he balked they wouldn’t get the story they were after. He motioned to Sandra to stand and walking behind her slipped the cuffs onto her wrists and buckled them tight. She jangled the three link chain connecting them, showing some training in assuring her dom that she was safely locked in.
"Now, take her clothes off."
Sandra’s eyes flared open. She started to protest but a look from Dale silenced her as effectively as a gag. Dale wasted no time stripping her. Boots, jeans and her hat came away. Dale unlocked the chain between her cuffs and pulled her shirt and bra off. Bending down he slicked her panties off her hips and had her step out of them.
Master Allen leaned back, satisfied. She wasn’t wearing a wire and she had gone farther than any law officer would go, even for a sting operation. He looked at Dale. "Show me your chest please."
Dale put his hat on top of Sandra’s and shucked his shirt over his head, followed closely by his T-shirt. His chest too was bare of any wire. Allen didn’t bother with the jeans, which were too tight to hide even a sheet of paper.
Allen nodded, allowing both to dress. When they were finished, he had Dale place everything back in the box and take it to the car. He waited silently until the man came back, his eyes boring holes in Sandra’s delightful body all the while.
"Do you still want that story?"
Sandra looked up, hope in her eyes. Dale simply nodded, unsure of where the conversation was about to go.
"We’ll show you around the place, but I have a strong feeling that you will decide after you’ve seen everything that you don’t want to write about us."
Sandra’s curiosity got the better of her. She piped up, "Why not? It’s a scandal, that’s what it is."
"And what you two just did in public wasn’t a scandal?"
Even as she shook her head she realized that she had been carefully manipulated by an expert, who was very right. She had spotted the red camera light so now the tapes would roll and her parents and others would get special delivery copies. She realized that she not only hadn’t been threatened, she had been treated politely.
"Do you want to think about that answer? I hate people who lie to me."
She allowed a bulldozer o drag the apology from her lips and admit that, yes, what she did with Dale was a scandal, even though Master Allen had been the only witness -- other than the camera.
Allen ignored the apology and started to lecture her.
"You think this place is a scandal. Yet, you and Dale have been breaking the rules for years. We are doing little more than the two of you are doing on a regular basis. The only basic difference is that we are getting paid for a service. The women on this ranch have all signed releases, vowing that they are here of their own free will and that they were not coerced into signing. I suspect, if the truth be told, that Dale forced you into your first serious bondage experience. If you had to admit that in a courtroom, I’m sure the attorneys would rip you to shreds."
He paused, "For a submissive you have had a lot to say. I don’t doubt that you will be properly punished for your transgressions as soon as Dale can find a spot with some privacy. We punish as part of our special training, using the same tools and the same methods. It may be more stringent, it may hurt more, but we are teaching these girls valuable lessons that will affect the rest of their lives. It’s pretty much a game to you, but a slip, a mistake a misdeed by one of the girls could have long term consequences."
"This ranch is not a sex palace or the den of iniquity that you would no doubt try to label it. Rather it is an advanced, very high level training school teaching some all important skills."
"Sandra, I’m going to send you with martha to tour the ranch. She happens to be the number one slave here, in charge of all the slaves, so you will get the perspective of a fully experienced woman who has seen it all, done it all, been punished for it all and who has no interest in deserting her collar."
"Dale, I’m going to be your guide. I’ll show you the ranch from the male perspective. That is far different than what Sandra will see, so when you are finished I will give you some time to compare notes before I discuss your article."
Slave martha appeared in the doorway. She nodded to Sandra, who got up to join her. Master Allen added one proviso to the tour. "Sorry. No cameras." He knew they weren’t carrying one, but he was sure they had left one in the car.
After martha and Sandra left, Allen sat back down and indicated the chair, so Dale sat back down as well.
"Before we go out, I want to tell you a bit about our organization. At the moment every male employed here on the ranch and several others are shareholders in the ranch and training school. We had initial investments of anywhere from
$5,000 to the low six figures. We have well over a million dollars invested. I want you to keep that in mind for your article, because we aren’t a porno operation at all. So, if you’re ready, we’ll get started."
As they went out the door into the sunshine, Allen added, "Besides the money we have some very talented men -- and women -- here."
"Do any of the woman own a share? asked Dale.
Allen looked at him, keeping his face straight, despite his urge to let out a roar of laughter. "No, all of the women, every one, are slaves. They can’t own anything. You’ve seen a slave contract haven’t you?"
"Well, yes."
"Then you didn’t read all the fine print. Once a woman agrees to be a slave she agrees to strip herself of money, jewelry, real estate, cars, anything of value. She doesn’t even own the collar locked on her neck, or the irons on her wrists and ankles."
"Are you saying that the women on your ranch haven’t been forced into slavery? No coercion?"
"With four exceptions, my statement is true. We have four women who are willingly taking our training rather than go to jail for various crimes."
"Willingly? Do you expect me to believe that?"
"When we get back to the office I will be happy to show you the contract with us that they signed, AND a video of each one as they agreed -- willingly -- to be trained. You’re welcome to ask every girl on the place."
By this time they had reached Arlo’s shop. Allen introduced Dale, fully aware that word had gotten around to all the Masters that there were snoops on the grounds.
Leading the conversation, Allen asked, "Arlo, are you working with any of the girls this morning?"
"Yes, I’ve got one right here. He moved a large cardboard box to reveal a steel cube. It was full of girl. Her legs extended through holes close to the center of the front panel. Her lower legs were all that could be seen, bending toward each other and fettered to each other and to a tent stake driven into the dirt floor. Her arms extended through the sides and were cuffed behind her, bending sharply around the corners of the cube.
Her head came up through the top, her collar fixed to the metal. A slim chain ran from her left nostril to an eye-bolt at the rear corner, back to a ring in her left ear and ended at the eye-bolt at the left front. The matching chain hooked up on the other side of her face. A short chain from her nose ring was taut to the forward edge of the cube. Hanging in front and slightly above her was a diabolical head cage, a potent threat, she could see when she rolled her eyes up, if she complained about her bondage.
Dale was thunderstruck. He’d seen cages and boxes, or pictures, but never anything like this. His mouth hung open, unnoticed, as he walked slowly around the cube, taking in every nuance. He shook his head in disbelief. "You mean she is in that... box, willingly?"
Arlo responded, "Certainly. She volunteered to help me test this new training device. "Didn’t you, slut?"
"Yes, Master. I enjoy experimenting with Master Arlo’s inventions."
"And he’s not going to beat you or whip you if you give me the wrong answer?"
"No, Master. He treats me very well."
"Are you taking this so called training without being coerced?"
"Master, this training will be invaluable to me for the rest of my life. I am learning to please both men and women. If I fail the course, it will have serious consequences in my future. I agreed without any coercion to the training. I want the training because I know that without it I might well end up in the hands of someone who would whip me or mistreat me."
Dale accepted her answer and walked once more around the cube. Both Allen and Arlo noticed that his pants were doing a poor job of hiding what could only be a stiffening cock.
The three spent almost half an hour examining the restraints that Arlo was literally mass producing. Dale seemed familiar with the more common pieces, but there were several times he had to ask the purpose or use of a particular piece of reworked metal. Allen invited both of them to have coffee, leaving slut in her tight and inescapable prison.
Dale sipped his coffee and finally admitted. "I wouldn’t
have believed it if I hadn’t heard that... slut, you called her, tell me to my face that she wanted to be trained. "Where do you find women like that?"
"They find us, in some cases," said Master Allen. He looked Dale straight in the eye. "Seems to me you’re escorting a girl with exactly the same purpose in life."
Dale flushed, slowly nodding. "I’m a fine one to talk," he admitted, "Sandra is a full fledged submissive, although she hides it... from everybody but me."
Arlo gave Allen a knowing look. "She’ll have a field day with martha, who is about as domineering as they get. Dale, I’ll bet you a five dollar bill that martha will come back and say just what you said about her."
"You’re on, because she can be pretty deceptive when she wants to be. The men laughed and got up to go. Just then verna came in and offered more coffee. Arlo responded, "No thanks, we’ve had enough."
Once outside, Dale asked, "Who was the nude woman who served us coffee and the other gal that just came by?"
Allen answered, "That was steffany doing the cooking. The other one was verna. She’s the ranch foreman’s slave and the chief cook."
"You mean you can work here and have a slave of your own?"
"That’s about as good as it gets. Just recently we started a rotation so that each of the girls gets a new man every night. Believe it or not, it’s a good method of teaching them some new tricks."
"Hell, where do I sign on to work here?"
Allen laughed, "From the looks of that rocket in your pants this place is getting to you. We don’t have any job openings at the moment, but depending on how Sandra sees this, we might have something that would interest you."
"Sandra?" He seemed puzzled.
"If she likes it here and wants to stay, we’d find a job for you."
"Man, that’s going to take some tall persuading."
Allen was tempted to tell him that persuading was their business. Instead he asked, "Have you ever told her to do something?"
"Sure, lots of times."
"And she does it?"
"Quite a... Usually, if it’s something that she wants too."
"So, if you told her you wanted her to join you for a 30-day expense paid vacation here at the ranch, with free lessons thrown in, she’d do it? Would you do it?"
"Well, I would, certainly. I’m 99 percent certain she’d go for it, especially after that display just now in the office."
"Would it bother you that she would be having sex with the other men? She’d go right to the head of the rotation as soon as we got both of you to have your medical exam."
"That’s not a problem. We’ve both had other partners. We’ve always been careful and I always use a rubber."
"Good, because that’s a requirement here. Is she on the pill?"
"Regular as clockwork."
Just then the reached the corner of one of the trailers as Allen pointed out the one they would have to live in. As they rounded the corner the door burst open and a naked, chained girl hurried to greet them, She dropped to the ground and kissed their boots. Kneeling up, she begged, "Masters, please, I beg you, come in and watch me blow my Master and then get fucked by him. Please, Masters?"
Allen glanced at Dale to see his reaction. He was grinning, disbelieving what he was seeing, sure it was some sort of dream. Allen was pleased. This hadn’t been set up, but it fit perfectly into his plan.
Gary was standing in the doorway to greet them. He invited them in, then watched carefully as beth crawled up the steps and into the trailer. He was bare to the waist and a quick order brought beth to her knees and her teeth to his belt. She undressed him as speedily as if she had used her hands, an obvious bit of training that wasn’t lost on Dale.
She used a heavy coffee table as a bed, turning to face the men as she lowered herself with her hands, her legs flying open to an impossible angle to display her inner core. Gary walked around to her head. Obediently she bent her head back until she was looking at Gary’s ankles. She positioned herself, then raised her head. "Masters, may I hold your cocks while I blow my Master?"
Master Allen waved the other two forward. She grasped at their trousers, both hands adeptly exposing the cocks she would hold, feeling the pulsing blood in the palms of her hands as Gary slid into her mouth and up her throat. In turn, Allen played with her already erect nipples, twisting and pinching them between his hard nails.
Beth was enjoying all the attention, her humiliation forgotten for the moment. Her hips were pumping her gaping empty slit up and up again, searching for a non-existent cock to satisfy the cravings her training was emphasizing.
Gary pulled out, turned and backed down her body, his slick organ dragging saliva down her chin and between her breasts. She bounced against him thrusting with her gaping legs. She begged him to mount her, humping, then waving her legs in mid-air, ready to lock over his thighs as he pushed into her. Her hands moved constantly, thrilling to the softness of the hard flesh.
Dale stood it as long as he could. His mind, blasted by visions of naked, chained girls, listening to this one beg to be taken, beg to be watched as she performed these acts normally done only in private. This one, holding his organ tight, squeezing like a vagina, caressing his rampant hardness, begging for the privilege that gave him all the exstacy while she heaped only humiliation on herself.
He spurted. A long whitish strand dropped onto the table, almost parallel to the edge. A second, shorter burst and a third drained him. She felt the surge through the hot flesh and squeezed, but it was too late to stop the flow. Dale staggered back, landing in a big recliner, staring down at his cock and then at the naked body of the woman as she showed her audience what happens when a female has an orgasm.
Beth was babbling, begging for more cock, more anything, even asking to be whipped. Humiliation had always been her cross to bear, but these Masters were teaching her to forget -- for the moment -- that she was embarrassed by her sexual activity. Her humiliation was waiting in the wings, waiting until night, when she tried to sleep, only to have to relive every debasing and degrading thing she had to do. Each act had its own special orgasm as the climax, draining her deeper and deeper until she slept, dreaming of unending rows of cocks waiting to impale her.
Gary filled his rubber with sperm and pulled out abruptly, letting her leak her juices onto the wood. Arlo pulled back and filled her hand, then guided it to her mouth. She swallowed and licked until her palm was clean. Gary picked up the condom and dumped it onto her belly button. He took handcuffs and locked beth’s wrists and ankles to the table legs. He looked down at her. "Don’t move until that sperm is dry. If there’s one crack you’ll be visiting every Master to borrow a cup of come."
Gary accompanied them outside. Dale got out of the recliner with some difficulty but managed to straighten up by the time they got outside. Master Allen spoke for all three of them, congratulating Gary. "Great job. Keep it up."
He smiled. "Around her it’s a problem keeping it up. She’s already starting to stalk me whenever she detects the slightest bulge in my pants. She follows me and wants to hold my prick when I’m pissing. She gets two or three sheets of toilet paper and wipes off the head when I’m done. She even wanted to wipe my ass, but that I had to object to. It just ain’t right."
That brought a laugh from all four men. "Keep up the good work anyway," said Arlo.
Master Allen looked over at Dale as they walked back to the office. "Is that vacation looking any better?"
Dale actually blushed. He was still reliving the past hour of his life, with nothing to compare it to. Sandra had done a lot of strange things while they were screwing, but it was nothing to compare with beth’s antics -- and these two were talking about her as if she wasn’t already highly trained.
"Sir, that vacation is just what I need. I’d like very much to see Sandra go through the course and learn some more about being a submissive. It’s too early to be talking making her into a slave, but from what little I’ve seen you could do a lot with her in a month. I’m just flabbergasted at what you’ve already accomplished with Beth. She could put her shoes under my bed any time."
"Even with Sandra already in the bed?" Allen was teasing, but the answer was revealing.
"She knows that she has to share me. We’ve done a couple of threes and she lived through it."
Arlo went back to his shop and Allen led the way back into his office. There was no sign of Sandra or martha. "Would you care to see some of those videos of the girls signing up for training?"
Dale was apologetic. "After this tour I believe you. Just out of curiosity I’d like to see one or two, while we’re waiting."
Allen quickly cued up the tape and he and Dale watched the big screen as Helen rolled into the yard in a Cadillac and walked away a slave. When it was finished, Allen found the tape of the collaring ceremony, which Dale found quite interesting. As Allen was removing the tape, Dale asked, "Why, the name ‘slut?"
Allen laughed. "Just one of those traditions that seem to start from nowhere. You didn’t meet petra. She was the first screwup so she lost her name and became ‘slut.’ She got over her problems and got her name back. The current ‘slut’ got named right off the bat. She’s the sister of Master Bill."
Dale was on pins and needles. He desperately wanted to know what horrible crime they had committed to warrant taking away their names. He had read enough to know that while many Masters might change names on a whim, it was not that common.
Master Allen was cuing up a third tape when there was a gentle knock on the lower door. He stopped the machine and went to the door. Kneeling on the doorstep were martha and Sandra. Both were naked, drawing a stifled gasp from Dale. Sandra was wearing a collar and martha had a firm grip on the short chain leash that was snapped on one of the collar’s D-rings.
Earlier, when the two young journalists had been separated for guided visits to the compound, Martha had taken on the role of guide for Sandra. Master Allen, concerned about what the two might write about their visit had been reluctant to let martha, or any slave, take her around to meet the other Masters and slaves. He would have preferred that one of the men take her, but decided to let martha do it. Christeen would be able to handle the office while martha was gone.
Martha started away from the office and then decided to work on Sandra. She led her back to the office after Allen and Dale had left. Slave martha looked at Sandra.
"You didn’t seem to mind getting naked. One of the rules here is that every woman who is outside in the compound has to strip to the skin. We can leave your clothes in Master Allen’s office."
Sandra quickly slipped out of her boots and jeans for the second time. Her shirt joined the small pile leaving her in the natural state. She looked around and asked, "Aren’t I supposed to wear a collar too, like the slaves?"
She was being sarcastic, but martha ignored the sarcasm and pulled a collar off the shelf and in one smooth motion had it locked around Sandra’s neck. "This is in the rules somewhere, but it will give you an excellent opportunity to feel like one of the slaves. All I need now is a leash and you’re ready to go exploring."
The leash clicked on a D-ring on her collar before she had a chance to protest. Sandra felt the metal, pulling it against her neck to feel its constriction. She had bondage experience but she’d never even seen more than pictures of a collar, let alone wear one. She liked the feel and just thinking about it was getting her hot.
Martha had quickly made up the rule, but Sandra wouldn’t know that. As they went out the door, martha instructed her, "You look like a slave, so you will have to act like one. If we meet a Master outside, or inside, we both have to kneel and kiss his feet. If he asks a question, you start your answer with ‘Master’."
"But you didn’t do that in Allen... Master Allen’s office."
"No, for several reasons. With the Masters in and out of his office all day long, I’d be on my knees all the time. Also, I am first slave, which gives me a few priviledges around the office -- and in his bed. She leaned on the last phrase, warning off any possible competition. She watched Sandra closely, but could see no reaction.
Instead, she asked a question, "How do you like working for Master Allen?"
Martha could tell the question was loaded. She smiled broadly. "He’s about the best Master you could imagine -- and he’s good in bed too."
"You seem to have a fixation on sex."
Martha couldn’t tell whether it was a question or a statement of fact, but she had a quick answer.
"There’s a tremendous amount of sex in the life of any slave -- probably five to ten times as much as the average couple enjoys." She turned the question back, "Don’t you have more and better sex when you’re in bondage?"
"Yessss, but I never seem to get enough. I’m always ready for more, but mostly there isn’t any more."
"That, my dear, is why most of these women are taking this special training. The roster system we use ensures that each girl gets a new man every night, fresh and ready to rumble."
"That makes it sound like the men are a bunch of pimps, trading off their working girls."
"That’s way off the mark. Unless they really screw up most of the girls never are forced to do anything."
"You mean that EVERY girl here is willing and wants this training?"
"With a few exceptions."
"Exceptions?"
"There are four girls here that are taking the training rather than go to jail."
Martha said it, and immediately regretted opening her mouth. She had never experienced a reporter gaining her confidence and then asking good questions. Martha tried to cover it up and if anything got in deeper.
"All four came here willingly and publicly announced that they were signing up for the training of their own free will. They taped the whole thing."
"Rather than jail?"
Slave martha nodded. She didn’t say more as they were almost on the doorstep of the wood shop. At martha’s motion Sandra joined her, kneeling on the step. Martha waited for the clear sound of an electric saw to wind down, then knocked gently on the lower panel of the door.
The two girls could hear footsteps and then the door opened. Roger Wore, the carpenter, loomed over them. He waited until both had kissed his feet.
"State your business," he ordered.
"Master, this is Sandra Weller, a reporter who wants to do a story on the ranch."
Roger eyed Sandra’s nude body up and down, causing her to blush. He barely glanced at martha, whom he had seen in the buff hundreds of times.
"Not bad," he said, sticking out his lower lip in contrast to his words. "Are you trying out how it feels to be a slave?"
"Master, yes."
"You’re into bondage I hear."
Martha felt a pang. Word had been spread. She sensed that she was already in trouble.
"Master, yes."
Somewhat exasperated he turned to martha and said, "Can’t you teach her to say "Yes, Master? Sounds stupid when it’s backward."
"Yes, Master!" Martha did the ritual.
"Sandra, I’m tempted to give you a real feel for what we do. Come on back and I’ll show you."
He led the way to a back room. He opened the door and stepped aside, letting them look. Sandra gasped, not quite believing her eyes.
A massive wood framework took up much of the room. It was a set of stocks, but even martha had never seen anything close to this. There was a slave fixed in the center. Fixed was the key word. Her wrists, ankles and neck were padlocked in separate massive wood blocks that held her rigid body in mid-air, at least five feet off the floor. Her legs were spread to the absolute maximum and perhaps a twinge more. Her arms were stretched to either side, looking like they would snap like twigs where they entered the tight holes in the wood.
The girl was strapped into a punishment helmet that gave ample evidence of the tremendous pressure on the girl’s head. The helmet had only nostril holes. She was allowed to breathe, but nothing more.
Sandra of course had no idea who the girl was, but martha knew at once that it was slave marcy.
Both had wondered why her body was so rigid. When they stepped up closer they could see that some of her weight was on the tip of a rod the size of a quarter, that rose from the floor. As one both girls stooped to peer upward, but all they could see was the rod disappearing into the flesh of her back, thin over her spine. If they could have heard her description they would easily have been convinced that the tip of the rod was sharpened to a point.
Roger chuckled, "This slave volunteered to help me test my new idea for punishment stocks."
Sandra looked at him like he had two heads. "Volunteered? In a pig’s ass she volunteered."
She turned to the dumbfounded martha and asked, "Is this one of the ones skipping a jail sentence? I think I’d rather have the jail."
Roger interrupted before martha could think of an answer that wouldn’t get her in more trouble.
"It’s lunch time, so you two had better show up at the dining room. I’ve got a saw cut to make and I’ll join you -- if there’s any room anywhere near you."
Martha responded for both.
"Yes, Master."
Roger watched them leave, then hurried to the phone.
-0-
In the dining hall several of the Masters were already seated. There were three or four slaves who were not needed elsewhere who were sitting at a separate table. There wasn’t a rule for separate tables, but as often happened the Masters filled one table and they had to sit somewhere else.
Roger joined them almost immediately. They talked about different parts of the training program, but Sandra carefully avoided asking anything more about the four slaves. She had seen the look on martha’s face. She did ask, "How long is that poor girl going to hang there, getting stabbed in the back?"
Roger shrugged. "Probably about an hour. We try not to abuse the trainees."
"Is that rod really pointed? It looks it."
"If you come back to the shop I’ll show you. It’s flat as this table."
Martha noticed that Sandra was squirming against the hard seat, She looked at her eyes and was startled to see naked lust. She sat there, wondering what had turned Sandra on. Roger didn’t seem to have noticed, but he actually had, but he had no more of a clue than martha did.
Finally, martha caught what was attracting Sandra’s attention. She was watching Verna, who was wearing her lightweight serving chains as she served lunch. Eventually Sandra couldn’t stand it and leaned close to martha and whispered, "Who is the girl... um... slave, serving at the counter?"
Martha glanced over, to make sure they were both looking at the same girl.
"That’s Verna. She is the ranch foreman’s slave."
Sandra seemed puzzled. "You mean he lets her... naked... in public?"
Martha couldn’t help laughing. "You are looking at the ranch cook. She belongs to Jeff, but she’s in the bedroom rotation like most of the other slaves. Cooking is her job."
"Because?
"The Masters want the girls to get some variety. They are here to learn and one of the best learning tools is satisfying many different men, as they are likely to do after they leave here."
By now the conversation was loud enough for Roger to hear. He offered, "This has only been going a short time but I’ve learned some new things from almost every slave that has shared my bed. And, the slaves admit to learning some new ways to please."
After some more conversation, the girls begged off going back to the shop, as martha wanted Sandra by herself so she could find out what made the girl tick.
"You like bondage?"
"Yes, but really only when Dean is the one tying me up or whipping me."
"Did seeing that girl in that wooden monster turn you on?"
"Yesss," she dragged out. "I would have liked to try that contraption."
Martha looked at her in amazement. Behind that tough facade was a pretty hot number, but right now her main concern was damage control. If Sandra got out of the compound with a story headlined "Jailbirds tortured on New Mexico ranch," they were all done for.
"I take it you liked vera?"
"She seemed so happy, going about her work. You’d never know from her attitude that she was in chains, as naked as the rest of the slaves. She seemed... proud, I guess the word would be."
"Well, that’s a word that can be a two edged sword for a slave. She can be punished for her pride if it interferes with her job. In vera’s case she has the right to be proud of her Master and her job. She’s a special person."
Sandra admitted, "I always thought and read that once a girl became a slave she lost all of her identity and character, and became merely a piece of meat to be bought and sold."
"Far from it. While it’s probably true of some Masters, most consider their slaves as their most valuable property. It’s an entirely different concept than what some of the literature tells you. If you spend some time here you will find that many of the fixed ideas about bondage are, or were, outmoded decades ago."
Sandra hesitated. "I think I might be interested, but I’m afraid of winding up like that girl in the stocks. I’d like to try it, without being forced."
"Has Dale ever done you any serious damage, really hurt you?"
""Noooo. He often leans the other way. Just when I’m getting off on his fingers or his crop, he stops, thinking I’ve had enough."
"What would you think if I told you that both of you, given your experience already with bondage, could learn a lot here. Like Master Roger said, the girls brought ideas and the Master learned. Dale could learn to overcome his reluctance to give you all, or more, of the bondage and discipline that you want, and evidently need."
Sandra flushed. "Am I really that easy to read?
Martha laughed. "Sandra, you are among experts. Both the Masters and the slaves learn to read every sign and signal that you send out. They read your body language. For example, you were getting the hots for verna, even though you aren’t even remotely a lesbian. Both Master Roger and I picked up on your squirms while you watched her working.
Sandra sighed, her face red. "Boy, this is no place to keep secrets."
"Very true. A slave is forbidden to keep secrets. That’s just one of dozens of things that a slave can’t do, because her main purpose is to focus on her Master and please him in every possible way. There is little or no time for personal pleasure."
There was a long moment of silence. Slave martha looked at Sandra.
"You’d like to become a slave. Dale’s slave."
The two statements were definitely not a question.
Sandra faced the facts, realizing she had been repressing the question -- and the answer -- for a long time. Very slowly she nodded.
Martha couldn’t help pouncing on this breach of training rules. Primed for her reaction, martha snapped, "When you are asked a question, you respond with a vocal answer, not a nod!"
Sandra cast her eyes down. Meekly she responded, barely above a whisper, "Yes, Mistress, I want to be Dale’s slave."
Martha spotted one of the Masters walking away from them.
"Louder. Loud enough for that Master to hear you."
"YES, MISTRESS! I WANT TO BE MASTER DALE’S SLAVE!"
Both men watched as both martha and Sandra kissed the toes of Master Allen’s boots. Dale’s eyes widened in near shock. A naked Sandra in the confines of the office was somehow perfectly acceptable, but seeing her come in from outside -- where heaven knows how many men had seen her -- took some getting used to. Seeing her kissing Master Allen’s boots reinforced the shock. She was already a slave, doing things a slave must do.
Shock number two came when the two girls advanced into the office and knelt before Dale, kissing his boots as well. Martha rose to her knees, giving Sandra’s leash a warning tug. "Repeat what you said to another Master, outside."
"Yes, Mistress. I said, ‘I want to be Master Dale’s slave’."
That was shock number three and Dale came close to hyperventilating, his breathing hard -- not the only hard thing about him.
Master Allen saved the day. "Sandra, were you forced, or coerced into saying this?"
"No, Master. I truely want to be his slave. I’ve wanted it for a long time. Mistress martha made me face my desire. That’s all."
Slave martha tugged the leash again.
"Isn’t there something you want to ask Master Dale?"
Sandra, still prostrate, kissed his boots again. Head down she begged, "Master Dale, will you accept me as your slave? I beg your collar."
Dale shook his head, not denying her request, but almost disbelieving the remarkable turn of events. Two hours ago this girl was avidly working on an exposition of the scandalous behavior at this hidden ranch. Now she was kissing his boots and giving every evidence of accepting exactly what the two men had planned for her.
With an effort he calmed his nerves and worked on the plan.
"I will accept you as my slave on one condition. You will sign up, willingly, for the ranch training course. At the end of 30 days you will either renew your vows and accept my collar, or you will be sent home."
"Master, we can’t afford my training." Her tone was hopeless.
Master Allen spoke up. "I am donating a vacation for you two. There’s no charge."
"Thank you, Master!" they said in unison.
Master Dale reminded, an edge on his voice, "I asked a question. I didn’t get an answer. Are you willing to accept training and be my slave?"
She kissed the tips of his boots again to mollify her new Master.
"Yes, Master, I will gladly and willingly train in order to be the best possible slave for you.
Master Allen took over. "You’ll be assigned to one of the trailers for living quarters. We will have a public collaring ceremony for this slave tomorrow at 10 a.m. All Masters and slaves will be expected to attend."
"Sandra, after you are collared you will be given a work assignment, class assignments and you will be added to the rotation. I understand that you have had other partners, so this won’t be a problem. You will be treated exactly like the other slaves. The Masters use condoms and you are expected to also use your birth control pills regularly. Is that agreeable? Now is the time for either of you to back out."
Master Dale responded for both of them. "Yes, sir. We will accept your hospitality with gratitude and my slave will accept all phases of her training with the same gratitude."
Martha reached down and opened Sandra’s collar. She slid it off her neck and handed it and the leash to Dale. "Master, you will need this training collar for the ceremony tomorrow. Your slave will be naked for the ceremony. She will be chained as part of the program." Fair warning.
"Well, she gets some chains right now, to impress upon her that she is now a slave and has to act like one." Sandra dutifully held out her wrists for the cuffs. She raised one leg to receive the leg iron, then Dale bent down to fasten th other.
"Thank you Master Allen and thank you, martha for your part in getting this slave to ask for my collar. I think she is going to spend the evening regretting not having asked much sooner."
"Good luck to both of you. We’ll see you in the morning."
As soon as they were gone, martha dropped to the floor again and crawled to Allen’s boots. She gritted her teeth, knowing her world was about to change. She debated lying, but dropped the idea, knowing her punishment would be excruciating for lying. She gave each boot a lingering kiss, stalling before the inevitable. The words came finally to her lips, slowly at first, then falling over each other.
"Master, I have committed a grave error. This slave identified the four slaves who are here rather than in jail. This slave admitted to Sandra that they were here to avoid jail. This slave realized as soon as she said it that it was wrong. If slave sandra had been allowed to leave she would no doubt have written a story that would have ruined you and the ranch. It was stupid of me and I beg punishment."
Master Allen already knew what had happend, as Roger reported it and had been prepared for her confession.
"Stupid is too mild a term. You could have ruined us all and the danger is not over. If that girl gets upset with her training there’s no telling what she might do. Master Dale is going to have to keep a tight rein on her for the month and convince her to stay for the full course. This is costing us a substantial amount of money that I am tempted to take out of your hide."
He started pacing back and forth across the room, determined to put this episode behind him.
"The one factor in your favor is that you drew out her interest in becoming a slave. We already had a similar plan ready but your good work saved having to put some pressure on her. Good as that is, it doesn’t compare with the problem we now have."
"Effective immediately you are last slave, no longer first slave. For the 30-day period you will wear a punishment collar and heavy chains and a half-face leather gag day and night. It will be removed only under the direct supervision of one of the Masters. You will have it removed once a day to eat. You will be on bread and water for the period."
Allen continued, making her more miserable with every word,
"Since you are gagged you’re useless in the office, you will be replaced. The same goes for my bed, where you are no longer welcome. I will place you on the rotation, like any other slave."
"The collar, chains and gag will be applied to you at the collaring ceremony. Before you are gagged you will admit only to a ‘grave fault,’ and detail your punishment for all to hear. Lastly, you will read a note that I will hand you, naming the person who succeeds you as first slave and who will share my bed."
Slave martha was completely chastened. She had expected some serious punishment, but this greatly exceeded her expectations. With a sinking heart she realized that the events she had worried over now had come to pass.
Master Allen let his commands sink in. Then he added a final touch.
"You will spend any time away from your job in the corner cell in the dungeon. You will sleep on the floor, without a blanket or pillow. At the end of the 30 days the Masters will review your conduct and determine what further punishments are appropriate."
Slave martha felt like her sentence had just been doubled. Sleeping on a bare concrete floor in heavy chains would be painful at the least. She sighed aloud, a mistake, given the mood that Master Allen was in.
"You’ll sleep in the dungeon tonight. And, you go to the outside door for admission, not down the stairs, which are off limits to you."
So much for privilege and power. She wanted to burst out crying, but the risk was too great. She caught a glimpse of Master Allen’s face and she had never seen him so worried.
And it was her fault.
She willed herself to follow protocol.
"Thank you, Master for punishing this slave. This slave begs mercy."
She knew mercy would be denied even before he turned away from her.
Martha crawled on her belly to the door. She knocked on the lower panel, a silent request for a Master to open the door so that a slave could leave. She idly wondered just how many times she had opened the door for herself, then wondered how long Master would make her wait before letting her leave.
It was a long time. Not a word was spoken.
She went around the outside and let herself in. She could enter, but leaving the dungeon would require permission from a Master. She looked at the cell she would occupy as if she had never seen it before. Resigned, she walked over to the wall and removed a set of wrist irons and ankle irons. She locked them on her ankles and then on her wrists. A Master would have to remove them.
She had no clothes to remove. As the magnitude of her mistake and the punishment she would receive began to really sink in she did finally burst into tears, The strain was just too much. She had let Master Allen down, and now she would suffer for it.
She stepped into the cell, closing the door behind her. Another lock for a Master to open.
Looking out through the bars that formed three sides of the cell, she could see the stairs she no longer could climb or descend. The loss, very minor, was still enough to unleash a fresh wave of tears. Her bleary eyes swept over the racks of whips and floggers and other instruments of pain. So often she had seen and ignored them. Now, her tender flesh was fair game for the most daunting of the group.
She stood as long as she could, knowing her every movement was recorded by the red-eyed camera focused on her cell. Finally she sat, the concrete biting her in the ass with sharp points and edges. Finally she lay down, accepting her fate, hating to move, but forced to it by random irritations.
The bright light remained on all night. Martha didn’t sleep.
-0-
The day was sunny and warm. A crowd started gathering several minutes before the scheduled hour. Master Dale arrived ten minutes before the hour, the leash from his hand linked to a dog’s choke chain around his pretty, and nude, slave. She looked about her with overpowering curiosity. Her Master tugged her leash, reminding her to keep her eyes down.
Right behind them came Master Bill, with slave martha in tow. When they reached the lawn, he made her kneel and knee-walk the remaining distance. He stopped her with her knees on the gravel that edged the driveway.
The two women, at the scene for entirely different reasons were the center of attention. Martha of course knew why sandra was there, but sandra had no idea why martha was there. She would be all ears, but nothing would be said that would give her a clue that she had been given some very dangerous information and that martha would be severely punished for it.
At 10, exactly, Master Allen moved to the podium and turned on the microphone. "Thank you, Masters, for attending. Thank you slaves. There are two items on our agenda this morning. Turning to them he invited, "Master Bill, would you bring your slave to the podium, please. She has something to say to all of you."
Bill was not gentle with her. He and the rest of the Masters had faulted Master Allen for not being severe enough with her punishment. The danger to them and to the ranch was discussed long into the night. Master Allen had finally calmed them by pointing out that both of the potential problems were right there where they could keep an eye on them and that sandra would be in strict bondage for the next month, both right here on the ranch. He also reminded them that he had already told her that the Masters would meet after the month and decide what further punishment she deserved.
Martha was not allowed to stand. She knelt before the podium, facing the audience. She kept her eyes down or she would have seen the anger and disgust in the eyes of the men facing her.
"Masters, I have committed a grave offense, for which I am about to be disciplined. You Masters know of my crime but you slaves do not know, and will not be told, for obvious reasons. This slave has begged mercy, which was refused. Before this slave’s ordeal begins, this slave is truely sorry for her mistake and will regret it long after her punishment has ended. This slave has been sentenced to live on bread and water for 30 days, gagged, day and night, removed only by a Master to feed her once a day. A punishment collar will be locked on her neck and she will wear the heaviest chains available in the dungeon. This slave is no longer first slave, she is last slave."
With an effort she continued, "This slave is assigned to the work detail, for any and all jobs. When not working, this slave will be locked in a cell in the dungeon."
Master Allen stooped down and handed her a note. She ignored it for a moment as she resumed, "Gagged, I am worthless in the office, so I am being replaced. Gagged I am worthless in my Master’s bed, where I am no longer welcome. The new first slave and the new office manager will be... Ohh! will be... slave petra."
Martha wanted to sink into the ground. Her rival, taking her job. Her rival, warming Master Allen’s bed. She wanted to scream, curse petra but she was too well versed in the reins of power to piss off the new first slave. She would have to exercise extreme care to avoid being flayed alive, with all the Masters watching and cheering her on.
Resigned, she made no move to resist as the heavy wooden collar was fixed on her neck and the redundant heavy chains were locked and relocked about her body. She might have accepted the chains with a little better grace if she had been aware that she narrowly escaped a mass whipping by the Masters.
It was slave Petra who accepted the leash from Master Bill and snapped it taut, almost tipping martha off her knees. She made no bones of using vicious jerks to guide martha back to her cell, keeping her off balance so that she constantly stumbled, half choked on the wooden collar.
Once martha was safely locked in the cell, petra selected a light cane. Using it as a threat she forced martha to kiss her feet, then wash them from her ankles down, cleaning the dust of the yard away.
Petra hurried her, anxious to get back to the ceremony, but she still missed the first part. She arrived in time to see slave sandra accept her collar and crawl to her Master’s feet to kiss them.
Her parting shot to martha was a job assignment. "This afternoon, after OUR lunch, which you won’t share, you are going to clean the grease traps in the kitchen."
She chuckled. "I don’t think they have been cleaned since last Christmas."
Slave sandra, the newest slave on the ranch, somehow survived the collaring ceremony. For the first time in her life she wore full chains, locked to her wrists and ankles and to her belt and collar. As the ceremony started she had a momentary lapse and wished she had never heard of this ranch and its slaves. Now she was no different than all the other women. She was chained in the same way that most of them were and like them she had to learn the new rules that dictated every moment of their lives.
She was perplexed by what had happened to martha, watching with amazed eyes as the top girl in a matter of seconds became bottom girl. Even green, sandra realized that while she was new, she was already one rank above the low end that martha now represented.
Sandra looked to her new Master for support and comfort. She couldn’t quite make the connection but she suspected Master Allen’s fine hand in manipulating her into becoming a slave. She was sure that martha was in on it, but she failed to connect martha with Master Allen’s plans. Actually she had no idea what his plans were.
All she knew was that she had changed from aggressive journalist to abject slave in a matter of hours. Not that she had anything against becoming a slave. Actually she had wished for it, dreamed of it and practically raped Dale the previous evening, aroused beyond belief by her wrist and ankle chains. Now, with the formal ceremony, and his collar and his full chains, she was a rocket with a smouldering fuse, ready to blow at any second.
He was taking his time, savoring his position, sauntering with a lovely slave at the end of his leash. Lovely slave was hot to trot and frustrated by the slow pace. Finally she hissed, "Master, if you will hurry to the trailer, I’ll fuck your ears off."
Dale came to a dead stop. He looked at her as if she was a piece of garbage he had just stepped in.
"Slave, this is not a game, not any longer. You were just collared by me, signing your body and your life over to me. I now own you. I can do anything I want with you, even sell you. I am not in a hurry and I do not want my ears fucked off and I do not want you trying to give me orders. When we get to the trailer, I will tell you what position to assume and I will dictate just how you are screwed and I will also order you -- on pain of real punishment -- not to have an orgasm until I say you can. "Is that understandable?"
Sandra was smart enough to know when enough was enough. She bowed her head and answered, "Yes, Master, I will obey."
Dale turned, tugged her leash and set off for the far side of the compound.
As she paced behind him she thought about the events the previous evening. She was alerted by his comment about making her regret not asking for him to enslave her sooner. She was ready and bubbling hot from her chains, but she was unprepared for his initial ‘attack’ on her nearly helpless body.
No sooner had he climaxed the first time than she counterattacked and had him gasping for breath as she sucked his resurrected manhood to another crashing spend. They had see-sawed like that late into the evening, expending every wisp of energy left in their sweating bodies.
Other than her chains there had been no bondage, but the sight of the restraining links against her smooth flesh was the best aphrodisiac in the world, for both of them. Now she had a Master to honor and obey. It was not expressed in the ceremony, but she felt she was in love with this handsome man she now must address as Master.
She would remember her last night as a free woman for a long time, but it would be much longer before she would forget willingly becoming a slave, participating in an age-old ritual that only a relative few women ever get to see, let alone become star performers.
Master Dale had taken charge of her work and class assignments. As he read parts aloud, she learned that she would be the dungeon girl, cleaning the cells, oiling the whips and any odd jobs that presented themselves.
The class assignments went by like a blur. She caught a word here and there: Respect, blow jobs, hair care, cooking, and on and on. She couldn’t keep up with his rapid skimming, but she knew that he would ensure she did every work assignment and made every class.
She quickly realized that she was in an extremely dicey position. If she didn’t put 100 percent into her job and her classes, she would always have at least two Masters to answer to. Keeping one happy was going to be a full time job in the time left to her. She found there was only one conclusion to reach. She had agreed to be a slave. Now she would work at it, her goal to be the best slave on the ranch.
Master Major came out of the building as they approached. He stopped, watching them walk toward him. Dale tugged down on sandra’s leash, reminding her of her duty. Contrite she dropped to all fours and kissed the tips of his boots. Dale left her leash slack, so she remained in the same position.
"My name’s Major. You must be..."
"Dale. Dale Longview. You must have seen sandra being collared this morning."
"I wasn’t back in time, so I missed it. I understand that slave martha got demoted?"
Major was asking the wrong man, as Dale was as much in the dark as the slaves. He hadn’t been invited to the Master’s meeting.
Dale grinned. "She got 30 days in the dungeon on bread and water with a punishment collar and chains. They didn’t say why."
Major whistled. "That’s pretty rough."
"That was just the start. She lost her title as first slave and both her office job and her bed job. She about had a fit about that because her biggest rival, petra was appointed to replace her -- and be first slave."
"Boy! That had to hurt!"
Major pointed with his toe.
"What’s with sandra? Out for a walk?"
"Sandra is getting some exercise. She has a thing for chains and wearing a bunch lit her fires. She tried to order me to take her home and fuck her, so I’m teaching her who’s the boss."
"How about joining me for lunch? That would add quite a bit to her frustration."
"Great idea. All this walking is making me hungry."
Sandra was ready to chew nails. Not to eat, but to show how really frustrated she felt. Master was reading her like a book.
By the time Dale and Major had given each other their life stories, their views on politics and a dozen other subjects, poor sandra was ready to take on railroad spikes. She had been totally ignored, never asked a question and when she opened her mouth to ask her own question Dale put his foot on her ankle and pressed hard.
It was almost three when they broke up, Major heading for Allen’s office and Dale towing sandra. After a few feet he stopped and read her the riot act.
"Learn fast, or you are going to hurt, bad. You do NOT participate in Master’s conversations. You speak only to answer a direct question. If I had let you speak, I would have had to invite Major to cane you. You’d be eating standing up for the next month. I know, you’re bored and you want to show off, but slave girls don’t let their boredom show and slaves are punished severely if they try to show off. Now, keep your leash slack and follow along. You’ve already earned a rough night."
-0-
Meanwhile petra was having her problems getting up to speed on her new job. She still couldn’t believe that her fortunes could change that rapidly. Since regaining her collar she had trained diligently and her progress reports showed less than a handful of faults.
She had a few moments to think while she was returning from putting martha in her cell. She didn’t need to have it spelled out that her supposed rivalry with martha had a lot to do with her being picked. She had office experience and she had bossed a staff so from that standpoint she was a logical pick. Actually she had little to do with martha because it was martha who feared her as a likely candidate to do exactly what was now happening.
For petra, who had suffered through months of martha’s cunning and cruel punishments, payback time had arrived. Master Allen greeted her when she returned and began at once to orient her to her job. Martha’s assistant, slave christeen also helped. When petra had adsorbed all she could, there were still gaps. She asked Master Allen for permission to bring martha back to teach her the missing information. In particular she needed a password for several crucial files.
Master Major, who had been sharing a drink with Allen, volunteered for the job. Like the rest of the Masters he was really angry with martha for compromising the ranch. It showed when he led her into the office. He had brought her up the forbidden stains, but she paid for the dispensation. Major required her to stop on each step for a stroke, so she was already well marked and unable to sit comfortably.
Major had removed enough chains to install her in a heavy leather straitjacket and then re-installed them. Her large breasts were squeezed through two vertical slots and then squeezed some more by a wooden tit press which put a severe strain on her flesh where it turned 90 degrees from vertical to horizontal. The press was screwed down tight, squashing her breasts flat, with just the nippled tips protruding past the wood. Heavy leather straps went through her armpits and locked at her back, keeping the studded edge of the press tight against her chest.
Master Allen removed her gag, leaving it hanging around her neck.
Petra asked, "What’s the password for this file?
Martha, angry, hurting and jealous to the point that it was overriding her common sense, emptied all her pain and frustration into three words, "Up your ass!"
Given her helpless position, with two Masters and two other slaves taking in every word, it was one of the dumber things that martha had ever done. Retribution came instantly.
Master Allen gripped her by the shoulders. Master Major picked up a fly swatter. As if they had worked as a team for years the two Masters went about punishing martha for her outburst
Major had a tempting target. He brought the plastic swatter down hard on her left nipple. Martha was silent for a second, then screeched loudly, deafening her audience in the small room. The pain seemed to be delayed in reaching her brain. But that was only the first blow. The second swat on her right nipple caused an instant scream and violent thrashing as she tried to escape from Master Allen’s steely grip and somehow escape from the agony of the tit press.
Three more swats and she was broken.
"Please, Masters. No more. I’m sorry. The password is *******"
Major swung twice more, one on each nipple, both an angry red from their misadventure. "Next time you obey instantly."
"Yes, Master!"
Martha spent the rest of the afternoon on her knees beside petra’s desk, teaching her all the things she needed to know to run the office. The humiliation of losing her job to petra hung like a cloud over the two slaves, but Major and Allen were always present, ready to resume punishing martha immediately. She had tried just talking to the Masters, ignoring petra, but that ploy was nipped in the bud and cost her two more swats with the flyswatter that never left Major’s hand.
They broke for supper. Martha was left, kneeling, her leash locked to a desk leg, her gag in place. They came back, their clothes redolent of the steaks they had eaten. Martha smelled the food and her stomach growled while she drooled into her gag.
Master Allen came back from his office and removed the gag. He grunted in disgust as her mouthful of saliva dropped onto the rug.
"Get down there and lick that up."
Obediently, Martha got on all fours and lapped up the offending liquid. She knelt up and the training resumed, finally finishing just after nine.
Master Allen went into his apartment and petra prepared to follow him. Master Major unlocked martha’s leash and started to take her back down to the dungeon. He planned to force her to sleep on her stomach so that her nipples would get the full benefit of the rough concrete. He started to reinstall her gag when slave petra interrupted:
"Master, may I keep this slave here tonight? I need her to entertain Master Allen."
Her stress on the word ‘entertain’ was not lost on Major. He looked at her for a long second, reading her mind. She was bent on humiliating martha again, in the bedroom. He suppressed his smile.
"Sure, I’ll turn her over to your Master." Then he snapped his fingers. "Master Allen has just the gadget you need." He went into Allen’s office and returned with a thin leather collar and a small remote control. "This is a shock collar. This controls the severity of the shock. Unless she tries to attack you I wouldn’t use over the five setting. Here, try it on three."
Petra set the control and watched as Major padlocked the collar around martha’s neck, above her wood collar. Major stepped clear and petra pressed the button. Martha squawked like a stuck chicken and dropped to her knees. As her eyes stopped watering, Major warned, "That was three. Don’t try for higher, or longer."
With that he left for his own quarters, trying to remember which slave was listed on the roster for his bed.
Petra picked up the leash, making sure that Martha saw the control in her hand, her finger on the pain button. She guided martha into the bedroom and, spotting a convenient hook on the wall, slipped a loop on the leather straitjacket over the hook, leaving Martha standing barely on her full feet.
She had no more than hung her up when Master Allen, stripped to his shorts, came out of the bathroom. He spotted martha and glared at her, then at petra. "What the hell is she doing here? She’s not welcome here, now or ever!"
Petra went to her knees. "Master, if it pleases you, this is part of her punishment. She will be devastated to see you taking me into your bed instead of her. Besides, Master, she knows all the many ways that she has pleased you. She has taught me her office skills, now I’d like to learn how best to serve and please you in this room."
Master Allen growled, angry, but seeing her point, "How do you control her. You can’t get out of bed and slap her face every time she refuses to answer or curses you."
Petra held up the control. "Master Major brought this to me from your office. She has been treated to an example of what that shock collar will do to her. If you’d like I’d be happy to give her another."
"Try it."
Martha opened her mouth to protest. The shock clamped her vocal cords off. She slumped in her bonds.
"Excellent. Get her talking. I’d like to hear about all the things she’s claiming to have done to please me."