GEMMA'S CONTRACT by  Charles Graham

Copyright Charles Graham

Downloaded from www.silvermoonbooks.com

CHAPTER 1

      Gemma Longton pushed her chair back from the computer keyboard and flexed her stiff fingers as she stared glumly at the tell-tale figures glowing on the green screen.

      "Well, that's it then." she announced miserably.  "We're sunk."

      "How bad is it, Gemma?" a deep male voice came from behind her and she turned to look up at the tall figure of Mike Bowyer, her business partner and lover, his face filled with anxiety.

      "About as bad as it can be." she replied slowly. "We can carry for about a month, then we lose the company."

      "Damn!" Mike cursed.  "What about the Roxwell contract? That must be big enough and profitable enough to turn us around surely?"

      Gemma sighed. "Yes, well it would be but we can't meet it unless we can come up with extra finance."

      "How much extra, Gemma?" her lover demanded. "How much do we need and how long have we got?"

      "A month, maybe six weeks. But unless we find a cash injection of at least ten thousand pounds, we'll have no option but to file for bankruptcy."

      "Hell! Ten grand! Where are we going to find that sort of cash? We're already at our limit with the Bank."

      "I know. I can't see any way out of it."

      "There must be a way." Mike said angrily. "There has to be. I'm not losing everything we've worked so hard for, just for the lack of a lousy ten grand."

      Gemma stood up stiffly, "I'm sorry, Mike darling." she said. "I know how you feel and I'd do anything to get us out of this mess, but I'm shattered and I've got to go home and get some rest. I can't think straight.  I'll see you in the morning and then we can try to think of a way to come up with the money.  I'm sure your're right, there has to be a way of raising ten grand, but I've just got to get some sleep."

      Gemma kissed her worried lover gently and picked up her coat, then walked tiredly out of the office, leaving her business partner pacing up and down the room, his face set in a scowl of intense concentration.

      "There must be a way." Mike said to himself, "There must be. I'm not losing the company for a piddling ten grand. Think, man, think. Something in the company must be worth that sort of money."

      His eyes came to rest on the Roxwell contract, the contract that would easily solve his financial problems and make him a very rich man and his eyes narrowed as an evil idea stole into his busy brain. He stopped his pacing and sat down in his leather office chair, his mind racing as he began to work out the details of a deal that might just save the company.

      Old man Roxwell was a horny old goat and had made no secret of his liking for Gemma. Just maybe there was a way to get the cash the company needed ... If, and it was a big if, he could somehow persuade Gemma.

      Mike stretched out a hand towards the telephone, then hesitated.  Gemma was, after all, his partner, both in running the company and in bed. Could he, dare he make such a deal to save the company? He weighed the alternatives carefully. On the one hand, the certainty that all of his and Gemma's efforts would be wasted if he didn't - but on the other, the cost to Gemma if Roxwell agreed to the deal he proposed to offer.

      Slowly, he lifted the handset and dialled the number for Roxwell's private line.

      Three nights later, Gemma smiled at her lover as he held the door of his remote country cottage open for her to enter. It had been a wonderful evening up to that point, for Mike had been even more attentive and considerate than usual, taking her out to her favourite restaurant, plying her with delicious food and expensive wines until she could eat no more and her head was pleasantly muzzy. All evening, Mike had been deliberately evasive, refusing to tell her the reason for the celebration and only hinting that he had some great news to tell her about the company.

      As she shed her coat and kicked off her shoes, Gemma smiled with an inner contentment brought on by the food, the wine and the anticipation that, after Mike had come clean about the good news he had, they would go through to the comfortable bedroom and make love. It would not be the first time an evening had ended that way and Gemma felt a warm glow in the pit of her stomach as she imagined Mike's hands and lips on her body as they shared mutual pleasure.

      Mike sat her down in a soft armchair and brought her a goblet of fine brandy, then fetched himself a large malt whisky and sat opposite her.

      "To us, Gemma, "he toasted. To us and our company."

      Gemma frowned. "Not ours for much longer though, darling."

      "Ah," Mike chuckled softly, "I have some good news about that."

      "You mean ... You've found someone to finance us?"

      "That's exactly what I mean. The company's safe, Gemma. Roxwell has agreed to finance us."

      "Oh, darling," Gemma gasped, "That's wonderful news! However did you get him to agree?"

      "It wasn't easy," Mike replied smiling. "He drives a hard bargain, but I made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

      Gemma was thrilled and elated, "Oh, Mike. You're a genius. But what did you offer him? I thought we'd already tried everything."

      "Not quite everything," Mike replied softly, "But now it's all settled and the money is in the Bank."

      "Great! So that's what tonight was all about and why you were so mysterious."

      "Mm, yes. And now, darling, I thought we might celebrate properly."

      Gemma smiled into her lover's gleaming eyes and nodded firmly, feeling her own arousal build as she saw his desire.

      She put her glass down on a nearby table and rose to her feet. Then, with sensual grace, Gemma began to strip herself before her lover. Her dress slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor and she kicked it away, revealing her slim body in black half-cup bra, lace panties, matching garter belt and black stockings. She sat on the arm of her chair, removed her garter-belt and slid each stocking down her legs, discarding the flimsy nylon as she turned her attention to her bra. The cups peeled away from her small, taut breasts and Gemma shivered in delight as warm air caressed her naked flesh, adding to her own arousal and Mike's evident desire as she gently squeezed her nipples until each knob thrust out in stone-hard rigidity. She loved to display her body for him and knew he was excited by her as she toyed with herself for their joint pleasure. Often, she never got beyond this point, Mike grabbing her and taking her as his passion grew too strong to resist, but this time, he controlled himself and Gemma smiled as she slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her brief panties. She knew that passion delayed is passion increased and shivered in anticipation of the moment when he would no longer be able to hold himself back.

      Playfully, she giggled at him, "Maybe I've changed my mind, Mike. You've still got all of your clothes on. Perhaps I should get dressed and go home."

      Mike shook his head slowly from side-to-side, "Oh no, Gemma," he told her, "You're not going anywhere. Not yet," and he stood up and went to his roll-top desk, bringing out a broad leather strap fitted with a heavy buckle.

      Gemma's eyes widened in anxious excitement as he walked slowly towards her, the strap dangling from his left fist. Soon after they had become lovers, Mike had introduced her to bondage and Gemma, at first hugely embarrassed by being tied up, had soon come to enjoy the sensations of being helpless and unable to prevent him doing exactly as he pleased to her. It was almost two months since the last time he had bound her and the warmth in her belly doubled as she realised that, soon, she would be his helpless captive again.

      Mike chuckled and inclined his head, "Your panties, please Gemma," he said calmly. "Then turn around and put your arms behind your back."

      Gemma swallowed hard, knowing she was going to obey, then slowly peeled down her last protection, turned around and brought her wrists together at the small of her spine. Utterly naked before her lover, she felt her belly flutter in delicious anticipation as she awaited the firm grip of leather as it removed her freedom and made her his. Well aware of her desirability and his arousal, Gemma quivered, feeling undeniable lust as the cool strap encircled her wrists, gripping her flesh in a firm but not tight grasp as the buckle closed. To her surprise she felt a second strap pass between her wrists and realised, as it drew the original strap taut, that there was no longer any chance of her slipping her hands from the bindings.

      As Mike aided her to sit down on the thick, warm carpet, Gemma wriggled her fingers experimentally. Finding, as she already expected, that she could not possibly free her arms. Her excitement built even higher as he asked her to cross her ankles and she watched closely as he looped another strap around and around, lashing her legs at 90 degrees and buckling firmly, the strap preventing her from straightening her limbs or closing her widely parted thighs.

      Sitting there, quite helpless, her nude body exposed to Mike's glittering eyes, Gemma licked her lips tensely as he fetched a ball-gag and brought it to her. This was one part of his bondage games that she did not like. The gag, a solid rubber sphere attached to a leather strap, always frightened her and she hated to way it bulged her cheeks and made her drool as it reduced her to a mute observer of her own arousal. The trouble was, as she knew well, that once she had agreed to being tied up, she no longer had any choice in the matter. Mike was in charge and, unfortunately, he seemed to enjoy seeing her gagged and hearing her muffled, incomprehensible protests. Reluctantly, Gemma opened her mouth and allowed the ball to be pressed deep between her teeth, Mike buckling the strap tightly behind her neck. She still didn't like it, but with the gag wedged firmly in her mouth, knew there wasn't anything she could actually do about it. Mike moved around in front of her and smiled wolfishly at her, then produced yet another strap. Gemma stared, then shook her head firmly. Enough was quite enough. she was already tightly tied and did not want any more, thank you very much. There was absolutely no need for anything else to be added to her predicament.

      Mike, however, did not agree and she glared at him over her right shoulder as he moved behind her, her garbled grunts making it perfectly clear that he was not to use the additional strap.

      She froze for a moment as he casually began to pass the strap around her arms, just above her elbows, then she mumbled furiously into her gag, her dark hair waving as she shook her head in determined refusal.

      Gemma winced, her eyes widening in shocked realisation as he tightened the strap and her elbows were forced inexorably together. She was furious. Furious and unable to believe what he was doing.

      Her elbows drew closer together and Gemma's fury and disbelief changed to anguished discomfort as her shoulders were forced back by the unremitting tension. The buckle closed and her arms were held, strained back and together, her elbows almost touching and her breasts thrust outwards and up by the stress in her limbs. To add to her misery, another short strap between her elbows held everything cinched tight and removed any possibility of relief or escape.

      She couldn't do a thing. Couldn't even move anything except her head.

      Mike stood up and gazed down at her with a smug grin on his face and Gemma felt her face redden. She was absolutely helpless. Not to mention distinctly uncomfortable. She was completely in his power and he could do anything he pleased to her.

      Her belly seethed with arousal as she imagined all the things he could do to her. Her breasts and sex lay wide open and she knew that if he touched her between her splayed legs, she would climax. Her need was so intense, it frightened her and she panted for breath, praying he would touch her and yet terrified that if he did she would not be able to control her responses.

      His grin grew wider and Gemma wriggled ineffectually, whining in vain protest as he took a long piece of black nylon rope from his desk and knotted one end to her bound ankles. Casually, he passed the other end under her naked buttocks and through between her clamped-together forearms, then pulled. Gemma squealed into her gag as her knees bent, but was unable to prevent her bound arms being dragged down her back, until her clawing fingers touched the carpet behind her and her back hollowed in a deep curve, her belly and breasts arched in a tensioned bow, immobilised and horrifyingly vulnerable.

      Mike tied the final knot, then came and squatted on his heels in front of her smiling gently. He reached out and Gemma whimpered and heaved despairingly at her ruthless bondage as his fingers caressed her upthrust breasts, sending massive waves of irresistible arousal through her body as her nipples quivered and grew hard in helpless response to his touch.

      "Good," he whispered softly, "They'll like that."

      Gemma shuddered, in passion and a terrible fear. They? He said they would like her frantic responses? What did he mean? Who were they?

      Mike read the fear and anguish in Gemma's dark, staring eyes and his face softened.

      "I'm so sorry, Gemma." He told her gently, "But you know how much the business needs the money and you did tell me that you'd do absolutely anything to save the company. You asked me earlier how I'd managed to get Roxwell to finance us and you remember I told you I'd offered him a deal he couldn't refuse? Well, the company had one asset he really wanted, so I had to negotiate. We needed ten grand, so I stuck out for fifteen and we settled on twelve. The company's saved, but I had to agree to his terms. I hated to do it Gemma, but you were the asset he wanted and he wouldn't settle for anything else. He wants you, honey, that's why you're here and it's why you're all tied up the way you are, I had no choice."

      Gemma stared up at her partner, her lover, and a chill of sheer stark terror turned the blood in her veins to ice-water. It could not be. It must be impossible ... and yet, Mike was absolutely serious.

      As the truly horrifying implications of his words sank into Gemma's reeling brain, the tightly-bound brunette wrenched at her implacable bonds, her shrill screams of fear and disbelief leaking past the ball-gag wedged so deeply between her jaws, her muscles straining wildly and in vain at the tight web of straps enmeshing her naked body.

      Mike's hand brushed her bulging cheek, but Gemma jerked her head away and his eyes narrowed angrily. "You don't understand. I had to do it. It was the only way to save the business. I saw a chance to keep the company going and I took it. Roxwell had me over a barrel and he knew it. If I hadn't agreed to his terms, he would have closed us down. I had to do it, dammit, I had no choice."

      His eyes softened again and he stared deep into Gemma's tear-streaked face.

      "Ireally am sorry, Gemma." he whispered, "I love you, but I had to do it. I have to go now, your handlers will be here soon and they'll take you where you have to go. Don't think too badly of me, eh? You know I had to have that money. So long, honey, be brave and just do what they tell you and you'll be fine. Really you will. If there had been any other way ... but there wasn't."

      Mike gave a heavy sigh and got to his feet and Gemma stared beseechingly at him as her turned and went to the door, her brain numb with the horror of her situation.

      A horror which grew deeper and more awful as the door closed behind him and she was left alone. Alone, to scream and moan into her gag, to weep and writhe and fight vainly against his expert and ruthless bondage of her, until, exhausted, terrified and still tightly bound, Gemma was forced to accept that she was not going to get free without help.

      Utterly defenceless, her naked body hopelessly vulnerable in the grip of a multiplicity of strong leather straps which loosened not an inch despite her most frantic and strenuous efforts, Gemma shrieked her despair and horror into her gag as the door to her prison eventually opened to reveal the handlers Mike had promised would come for her.

      Three of them, two women and one man, all complete strangers to Gemma. All dressed in black overalls and all clearly expert in the handling and secure transportation of unwilling captives.

      Silent and unsmiling, the three buckled a thick blindfold over Gemma's frightened eyes and rolled her writhing, struggling body onto some sort of trolley and wheeled her from the cottage to a waiting van. Six strong hands lifted Gemma and laid her in the rear of the van, adjustable webbing straps securing her, still helplessly bound in Mike's original bondage, for her journey.

      Weeping and screaming, Gemma felt and heard the engine start and realised that she was on her way to the man to whom Mike, her erstwhile partner and lover had sold her. On her way to a future she dared not contemplate and which she could not escape.

      Part of her brain told her that this could not be happening to her. It was simply not possible for her to be sold like a piece of merchandise or office equipment. But the bonds on her limbs, the gag in her mouth and the swaying of the van in which she was held captive, could not be denied or ignored and Gemma wept into the thick blindfold sealing her eyes as she was forced to accept that the sheerly unthinkable had actually happened!

      Gemma's mind raced wildly as she tried to come to terms with her situation. Roxwell was a businessman dammit. Surely he would never be involved in anything like this? It was nothing less than kidnapping. Completely against the law. He and Mike and anyone else involved in something like this would go to jail. It had to be Mike's idea of a joke! Some sort of stupid game he was playing with her. After all, Gemma reasoned, trying to fight down the terror threatening to overwhelm her, she was a partner in the company and Mike had no right to make deals without her agreement.

      Especially a deal like this one!

      The van braked to a halt and Gemma trembled wildly as the doors swung open, then banged shut as the van began to move once more.

      The heavy blindfold was taken from Gemma's eyes and as she adjusted to the dim light of a single fitting in the metal roof above her, she gave a breathy squeal of abject despair, her limbs tensing vainly against her bonds as she saw and recognised, the tall angular figure standing over her naked body.

      "Good evening, Miss Longton."

      Roxwell's calm greeting contrasted starkly with the smile playing on his thin lips and Gemma screamed in awful anguish as the truth crashed into her reeling brain.

      Mike was not playing a practical joke on her! She really had been sold to Roxwell and as the millionaire's eyes glittered with suppressed desire, Gemma shrieked for help and fought her bonds madly in her efforts to tear free from the leather straps pinioning her and cover her shamefully exposed nudity from his hot gaze.

      Roxwell watched her futile struggles impassively, his face unreadable and as Gemma at last grew tired and her furious exertions diminished, he nodded slowly.

      "As I suspected," he said softly, "It would appear that Mr Bowyer has not been entirely honest with either of us, my dear."

      Gemma's bulging, frightened eyes fixed on his calm face, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in great gasps of air.

      "He led me to believe that you were a willing participant in our little deal, Gemma. That you had agreed to my terms, in return for my assistance in financing your company's short-terms difficulties. I take it that that was not the case?"

      Gemma threw her head from side-to-side, her eyes filled with horrified anger at the duplicity of her business partner and Roxwell nodded again.

      "I see," he said heavily, "That is most unfortunate Miss Longton. You see, I have already made arrangements to transfer the agreed sum from my bank into the account of your company."

      He paused, as if considering what to do and Gemma panted, her eyes wide as the millionaire rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

      "It would, of course, be possible for me to have the transaction stopped," he said at last, "But my word has always been my bond and I did agree to your partner's deal."

      His cold grey eyes stared down into Gemma's gagged face and the brunette gave a great shudder of despair as he continued, "In my book, a deal is a deal, my dear. Which means that I shall hold Mr Bowyer to the terms we agreed. Both Mr Bowyer and, I am afraid you, Gemma. For, as I am sure you know, the legal position is that the terms entered into by one director of a jointly-held company, are deemed to have been agreed by all directors. Even if, as in this case, you were completely unaware of the agreement."

      "Gemma gaped up at the tall man standing over her and her belly gave a massive lurch. Legally, she knew Roxwell was correct, but surely he could not mean to hold her to an agreement she no only did not know about, but which was certainly illegal, morally unacceptable and completely unenforceable in any Court in the land!

      Roxwell correctly interpreted the emotions flitting over Gemma's face and gave a brief bark of mirthless laughter. "Oh yes," he chuckled, "I know what you are thinking, my dear and you are quite correct. There is no way such an agreement can be held to bind you. Mr Bowyer had no right to enter into such a deal...but he did. And I accepted the deal he offered. The agreement cannot bind you Gemma, but you are not bound by an agreement, but by leather straps! Straps which will continue to bind you for as long as I choose!"

      The icy chill in Gemma's belly spread to grip her entire body in a numb cocoon and she fought not to give in to blind panic as the horrifying implications of his words sank into her brain. He was not going to let her go! He intended to hold her to whatever deal he had come to with Mike! Whatever the deal was! And whatever her unknown part in the deal might be!

      Roxwell mistook Gemma's frozen shock for acquiescence and he smiled, "Good Gemma. If you continue to behave and not fight, I'm sure you won't have any trouble settling in as a bondage slave."

      The news of her fate exploded like a bomb in Gemma's mind and the dimly-lit interior of the speeding van filled with muffled screams of horror and snorting gasps of exertion as Gemma wrenched and jerked at the implacable leather and webbing holding her a prisoner.

      Roxwell's thin face darkened in a frown of annoyance as Gemma fought to escape and she whimpered helplessly as his fingers clamped her jaw and she was forced to stare up at him.

      "Keep still," he hissed, warningly, "And stop whining. You don't seem to understand yet. I own you! I paid good money for you as a bondage slave and you had better learn to obey. If you don't you'll suffer! The deal was that I would pay fifteen thousand into your company and, in return, you would be mine for a year. Bowyer agreed it and you, no matter how much you fight or protest, are going to honour the deal, girl! Twelve months. One whole year to pay your debt. And pay it you will, make no mistake about that!"

      He released Gemma's jaw and the trembling brunette wept in black despair as she faced the nightmare prospect of spending a whole twelve months as a captive!

      His long fingers darted to her small, tautly-presented and defenceless breasts and Gemma squealed in shock and outrage as her nipples were captured and rolled and squeezed despite her most frantic attempts to evade the unwanted stimulation and the twin, coffee-brown buds of her nipples responded to Roxwell's touch!

      Held open by her bondage, Gemma was an easy target for her purchaser's desires and her helpless body juddered and writhed in sexual arousal even as she wept and screamed her vain protests against the fingers which invaded and explored her until her naked flesh ran with sweat, leaping to his touch as her arousal ran wild and overcame the despairing resistance of her brain!

      Judging the moment to perfection, Roxwell sat back, taking his hands from her quivering body and leaving his helpless victim teetering on the brink of her climax.

      Gemma's eyes bulged with a terrible need, her body aflame with furious heat and she sobbed and whimpered, frantic for the release she craved and yet terrified by the strength of the passion so easily inflicted on her by Roxwell. In bondage, she could not resist the searing lust forced upon her and she wept in shame as her tormentor gazed down at her, savouring and enjoying his power over her and the intense longing so clearly written on her gagged face.

      "You respond well, Gemma," He told her, "As a good slave should. Now if you wish me to make you come as the slave you will inevitably learn to be, you will blink three times."

      Gemma's jaw clenched as she bit down hard on her gag, fighting not to submit but her feeble resistance crashed in shattered ruin as Roxwell brushed a finger across the delicate, engorged and intensly-vulnerable softness of her clitoris.

      Instantly Gemma arched her hips in abject submission and gave a soft moan of surrender as the caress overcame her resistance.

      "Blink three time, slave," Roxwell demanded and Gemma obeyed helplessly, her belly churning with blazing heat as she accepted defeat.

      "Very good slave. Now, climax to my bidding."

      Fingers captured Gemma's throbbing nipple, others slipped over her clitoris and sex and the devastated, soon-to-be-enslaved brunette screamed in ecstatic surrender as her body convulsed in giant pulses and scalding love-juices sprayed into her belly.

      Lost in the swirling heat of her orgasm, Gemma moaned in shame and humiliation to the knowledge that she had climaxed to order. To a man she barely knew and hated and feared in equal measure.

      How could it be? How could she have reacted so shamelessly and so helplessly? How could she have lost control so completely? And how could she possibly endure a whole year of slavery to him? A whole year of total sexual submission?

      There were no answers, for, even as Gemma wept and spasmed in her orgasm, Roxwell replaced her blindfold and she was left to her shame and her submission and her misery as the van sped on into the night, bearing Gemma, her new owner and her handlers into a future she dared not contemplate.

CHAPTER 2

      With her limbs still clamped in the tight embrace of the leather straps buckled on her body by Mike, her one-time business partner and lover, Gemma was still utterly helpless as the van braked to a halt for the second time and its doors thrown open. A mute, blind package of naked girl, she whimpered in horror as several people climbed in and expert hands began to release the webbing tie-downs that held her in the centre of the floor. Unable to move, let alone make any resistance, Gemma gasped and panted as her bound body was manoeuvred onto what she could only assume was the same trolley that had been used to transport her from Mike's cottage to the van as she sobbed in despair, guessing that she must have arrived at wherever Roxwell planned to hold her captive. Lying on her left side, her limbs cramped from her lengthy bondage and horribly aware of a gentle breeze playing across her naked flesh and cooling the damp patches of sweat staining her body, Gemma strained her ears for any clue to her location.

      The feet of her captors crunched on gravel, then scuffled across concrete or brick but aside from this, the night was quiet. Ominously quiet, for Gemma realised that there was no sound of traffic or of any of the other noises which are always present in the vicinity of cities or towns.

      She must be far away from civilisation ... and far from any possibility of help of rescue!

      Keys rattled in a lock and the sound galvanised Gemma into a desperate series of heaves and lunges as she struggled to free herself before her captors imprisoned her behind whatever door the lock secured.

      Cool, strong hands pressed down on her shoulders and thighs holding her with contemptuous ease and she shuddered in misery, realising that she hadn't a hope of escaping. The trolley glided forward, its wheels hissing across a smooth, flat surface and Gemma knew that she was inside a building. What building it might be, or where it was, she had not the slightest idea and she panted rapidly, a prey to her fears as she was propelled deeper into Roxwell's domain.

      The trolley stopped, but then to her disbelief began to descend!

      She must be in a lift! Going down and down, deep beneath the earth! By the time the descent came to an end, Gemma was in a state of complete and abject terror. If she was underground, she'd never be able to escape from whatever this place was!

      Confused and disorientated, she whimpered in despair as she was wheeled onwards, but at last her journey ended as she was lifted from the trolley and set on her bottom on a coarsely-carpeted floor.

      Her blindfold was taken away and she stared up at the four people standing over her. Roxwell and her three handlers.

      "Welcome to your slave quarters, Gemma," Roxwell beamed, "This is where you will spend some of your time while you are undergoing your training."

      He turned to the three silent handlers, "Untie her ankles and release her elbows, but leave her wrists."

      The handlers did as he ordered then stood back, watching impassively as Gemma winced and groaned as the blood returned to her numbed arms and legs.

      "There now," Roxwell grinned, "That's better, isn't it. Good. Now listen carefully and I'll explain what is going to happen to you."

      Gemma was in no mood to listen and scrambled to her feet, her eyes wild as she sought for some way to escape the predicament she was in. The door behind Roxwell was wide open and, never giving a thought to the consequences of her action, Gemma made a dash for it.

      She didn't even get close, the handlers anticipating just such an attempt, leaping forward and grabbing her before she'd even covered six feet. Dragged back to Roxwell and forced to her knees before him, Gemma wept in bitter frustration as he shook his head sadly.

"Oh dear, oh dear," he chided, "I see we are going to have to do this the hard way. What a pity, Gemma. I had hoped you were going to be sensible and accept your side of the deal, but I fear you are not. Very well, then you will have to be taught that I take a very dim view of disobedience and people who try to welsh on a bargain. Strap her to the pole, leave her for two hours, then arouse her breasts. Call me when you have done so. I shall be in my study."

      He turned on his heel and strode from the room, leaving Gemma alone with her three silent handlers, her eyes bulging with shock and disbelief as she tried in vain to comprehend the dreadful meaning of his words.

      A meaning which soon became all too clear, as still on her knees and held that way by the tight grip of the male handler on her shoulders, Gemma saw the other two open a large cupboard built into the wall of her cell and select a number of broad leather straps, similar to those she already wore.

      Straps in hand, the two women came towards Gemma and she sprang to her feet, backing away as the man released her and joined his silent companions.

      Mumbling garbled pleas into her gag, Gemma stumbled backwards across the dim cell as the three handlers moved slowly forward, but there was nowhere for her to run and she shuddered in anguish as her naked arms and buttocks encountered the cold stonework of the wall.

      One of the women raised an arm to point at a heavy wooden post rising from floor to ceiling to Gemma's right and the trembling brunette shook her head, her eyes filled with horror. The meaning was clear, but Gemma couldn't ... wouldn't do as she was bid. She couldn't meekly submit and allow herself to be tied to the post, she just couldn't!

      The woman gestured again, impatiently and Gemma felt a furious anger rise in the pit of her stomach at the sheer arrogance of the signal. With a shrill of fury and horror and shame, Gemma launched herself forward in a desperate bid to fight her way past the three handlers and win her freedom.

      She kicked out wildly as hands seized her, but barefoot and with her arms bound uselessly behind her back, she learned in seconds that she was no match for them. Shrieking in misery, she was overpowered and dragged, writhing to the heavy post.

      Where to her terror, she was bound to await Roxwell's pleasure.

      Ninety minutes later, Gemma stared down in appalled fascination at her own bare, mercilessly-tensioned breasts, tightly bound crossed ankles and exposed sex and thighs, all waiting helplessly for the unavoidable touch of her captors.

      There was little else she could do, for a strap encircling her head and stretched tightly from her forehead to her bound ankles kept her face lowered and gave her no choice but to look at her own invitingly-posed extreme vulnerability.

      Behind her erect back, five sets of heavy leather straps welded her arms immovably to the solid wooden post and a broad collar fastened around her neck and the post prevented her from even looking away from the devastating sight of her helplessness. At her breasts, straps above and below accentuated the pale orbs, thrusting them forward and sup and Gemma gulped miserably as she imagined how easily her tender nipples could be caressed.

      To complete her immobility, the handlers had used yet more straps at her belly and hips and Gemma was horribly aware that she was utterly defenceless and quite unable to move, let alone protect herself against anything that her captors might choose to do.

      She couldn't even scream, for her handlers had replaced her gag with another, far worse! From nose to jaw, her face was invisible beneath a wide, heavy, gleaming black gag-strap, from which rose two, thinner straps, passing each side of her nose and over the crown of her head to draw the gag-strap snugly into her cheeks and pulling the attached massive cylinder of hard leather deep into her mouth and between her parted teeth.

      Speech was quite out of the question! Even whimpering was well-nigh impossible!

      In the few seconds it had taken them to remove and then replace her old gag with the new, Gemma had offered them everything if they would only let her go. Money, her car, her jewellery, anything! In desperation, she had even offered the male handler her body, feeling her face flush a bright scarlet as she did so! But not even that had worked and Gemma shivered with embarrassment as she remembered the appraising, almost calculating way he had looked at her. As if she was being weighed up or assessed, almost like some sort of weird job interview! She hadn't understood it then and she still didn't, but, either way, he had chosen not to accept her offer and the huge, horrible new gag had been thrust into her mouth. After which, she could no longer offer herself, even if she had wanted to!

      Lashed inescapably to her post, Gemma had no option but to wait. Wait and wonder, growing more and more frightened as she imagined all the things that could, so very easily, be done to her.

      Roxwell had already made her climax once, in the van, but she had been far less helpless, far less vulnerable on that occasion.

      For what felt like the thousandth time, Gemma exerted every atom of her strength against the leather which held her so helpless and for the thousandth time failed to win even the slightest relaxation of her stringent bondage. Big, hot tears of misery and despair rolled down her bulging cheeks and soaked into the gag squeezing her face as she was forced to accept that she had no hope of escape and her brain quailed as she tried to come to terms with what had happened to her.

      It didn't seem possible, but there was no disputing the fact of her captivity. Or the fact that she was entirely at the mercy of Roxwell and his three silent assistants. How could Mike have agreed to such a deal? For years, Gemma and he had fought to make s success of their business, sharing each setback and triumph, celebrating the good times and commiserating over the bad, working together as a team and giving everything to make the business work.

      Until now.

      Gemma felt her face flush with a mixture of shame and growing anger as she remembered Mike's fingers and lips on her body and her own willing cooperation and responses as they made love together. She had always known that Mike was ruthless in business, but could never have imagined that his determination to succeed would lead him to make a deal in which she would become simply a bargaining counter. A business asset, to be negotiated away in return for financial advantage!

      Gemma gulped, her tightly-bound nudity quivering as she stared wildly at her defenceless breasts and sex. Mike had sole her! Delivered her as a naked, gagged, gift-wrapped captive into the hands of Roxwell! To belong to him! To be owned by him for a whole year! Owned and used, as he had already demonstrated, in any way he chose!

      Despite the horror of her situation, Gemma could not entirely crush down a niggling curiosity as to what Roxwell might have in mind. He had told her she was to become a bondage-slave, but what could that mean? She couldn't be kept tied up for a whole year, surely? Roxwell would have to let her go sometime and if she was free, how could he keep her against her will? Perhaps he imagined that she would agree to his ridiculous deal with Mike. If so, he was sadly mistaken. The moment she got free, she was going to the Police. Kidnapping, false imprisonment, assault, oh yes, Mike and Roxwell would both go to jail and Gemma would be there to see them taken away. To see it and enjoy it. That would teach them both that they couldn't mess with her and get away with it!

      For a few minutes, bouyed-up by the pleasant prospect of imagining the two conspirators getting their come-uppance, Gemma's spirits rose. Then sank back to rock-bottom as the reality of her situation intruded into her day-dream. Those things might happen when she got free, but she most certainly wasn't free yet and while she remained hopelessly bound, her hopes and dreams were just so much pie-in-the-sky.

      Her body was stiff, every joint and muscle aching and Gemma wondered how long it had been since she was left alone. It couldn't be much longer before the three handlers returned and she felt an unwanted and unexpected warmth percolate into her belly as she remembered that they had instructions to arouse her breasts. She couldn't really believe that they could, couldn't really believe that she was a genuine captive ... but if she was and they did ...

      Gemma shivered as the warm, liquid heat in her belly swirled deliciously. She was quite helpless, quite unable to prevent them arousing her and her breasts were, and always had been, terribly sensitive.

      Mike had always been able to drive her wild by kissing and stroking her breasts and Gemma knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself from responding if the handlers touched her, no matter how hard she tried to resist.

      Her eyes opened wide as she imagined it. Two of the handlers were women and Gemma had never, ever, been caressed intimately by a woman. She felt her cheeks glow with embarrassment. If they touched her and saw her respond  ... they might think ... well, that she was a lesbian! Gemma gasped. She wasn't, but they wouldn't know that and might get the wrong idea about her! She wouldn't even be able to protest or explain!

      To her intense shame, Gemma felt her tawny nipples quiver and twitch and her eyes bulged as she saw the twin buds begin to stiffen and grown hard as she visualised knowing female fingers toying with her. Bound as she was, she couldn't possibly evade their touch or cover herself and would have no choice but to endure whatever they did to her. Not to mention what the third handler, the man might do. Or Roxwell, when they had aroused her and sent for him to see the results of her arousal!

      Gemma's slim muscles corded beneath her skin as she strained against her bonds and her belly churned with a mix of hear and shameful arousal as she anticipated the return of her captors and a repeat of the irresistible stimulation which had lead to her helpless submission to Roxwell in the van on her way to this place. A submission she had been forced to give once and which she had an awful, growing conviction that she would be made to give again! And again, and again!

      Struggling in her bondage, Gemma froze as the door to her cell swung open and footsteps approached her. Held by the strap from her head to her ankles, she could not look up and trembled wildly as three sets of legs came into her field of view. Two female and one male, her handlers. Gemma panted for breath, knowing that her displayed body lay open to any torment they chose to inflict upon her.

      The breath exploded from her lungs as, without giving her a moment's notice to prepare, two palms cupped her outthrust breasts and two sets of fingers captured her already-hard nipples, rubbing, squeezing and twirling the prominent buds and sending unbearable jolts of tremendous stimulation racing through her immobilised body!

      Gemma screamed shrilly into her huge gag, devastated by the merciless assault, but was powerless to control the instant and automatic responses forced from her as she was sent spinning into a frenzy of desperate need. Her nipples sprang erect, throbbing and quivering as the hands caressed her flesh and she whimpered and moaned as she learned that her handlers were frighteningly skilled in extracting the maximum degree of fervid, burning lust from any captive unfortunate enough to fall into their clutches!

      The leather straps of her bondage impressed their marks in her soft, resilient flesh as, again and again, Gemma shuddered and strained in maddened arousal to the ruthless demands of her handlers, squealing for mercy, for just a moment's respite from the inferno of lust consuming her.

      Dimly, through her haze of enforced passion, Gemma was vaguely aware of three different sets of hands fondling her engorged and throbbing breasts, but was far to distraught and out of control to fully realise, let alone care, that she was being tormented by both the man and the two women!

      Drowning in the whirlpool of sexual excitement created in her by the knowing fingers of her handlers, Gemma surrendered to the storm of arousal sweeping over her, her brain giving up the futile attempt to retain some form of control over her body and leaving her entirely at the mercy of the physical sensations overwhelming her as she shuddered in the iron grip of needs and lusts, the like of which she had never known before! Had never even known could exist!

      Lost in the depths of her desire, squealing in terrible ecstasy to every calculated touch of her handlers, Gemma was not even aware that one of them had left the room.

      It was only when the strap holding her bent head was released and her head was forced back to make her look up that Gemma, moaning and juddering in the throes of her need, realised with a stab of pure unalloyed horror, that Roxwell was standing before her, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he surveyed her naked, sweat-streaked, helplessly-responding body!

      Before she could even begin to recover from the terrible shock, Roxwell bent down and his long, bony fingers sank into the gaping, wetly-lubricated channel of her sex!

      Gemma could not hold back for even a second, her churning belly exploding in white-hot pulses of love-juices as his casual pillaging of her most intimate and secret recesses, hurled her headlong into a tremendous orgasm! Her internal muscles seized his invading fingers in a vice-like grip, contracting and pulling him ever deeper into her belly as she surrendered to the incandescent fury of the climax forced on her, her fear and hatred of him and what he was doing to her overwhelmed in the sheet power of her release!

      With his fingers still buried deep in her spasming belly, Roxwell stared coldly into Gemma's terrified, incomprehending eyes.

      "Your first real climax as my slave-girl Gemma," he whispered softly, "Your first submission to a Master. The first of many you will give as you are trained and learn what it is to serve, really serve, as a slave in the power of Masters who know the extent of submission which may be forced from you."

      Gemma could not tear her eyes away from his almost hypnotic gaze and felt her body trembling with fear and horror as the millionaire nodded gently.

      "Oh yes, my dear Gemma," he went on, "That's right. You will be trained to serve and obey as a slave and you will submit. Completely and with no reservations. You will serve me and you will serve many other Masters ... and Mistresses ... during the next year, my dear. And you had best serve them and me, well, slave, for we as slave owners and Masters do not take kindly to slaves who disobey or are not pleasing and have many ways of expressing our displeasure. Ways which are both uncomfortable and painful. As you will no doubt learn."

      Fighting desperately to control the panic threatening to overwhelm her completely, Gemma's brown eyes betrayed the horror she felt as Roxwell explained the fate awaiting her and she learned that she was to be not only at the mercy of him and his three assistants, but was to become the helpless, unwilling victim of other, as yet unknown Masters.

      Roxwell straightened, his eyes glittering as he gave orders to Gemma's three handlers, "You have almost a week until the next meeting. Begin her basic training, but be sure you do not break her spirit and impose only light discipline on her. I want her unmarked, so you will have to limit punishment for the time being."

      The three handlers inclined their heads gravely and Gemma shuddered in terrible anxiety, her mind whirling as she tried to make sense of Roxwell's instructions. There was going to be some sort of meeting in a week, but what did that mean? Who was going to meet and why? What did he mean by basic training? Most frightening of all ... what about light discipline and punishments and wanting her unmarked? What did it all mean?

      There were no answers for Gemma and her tightly bound frame trembled wildly as Roxwell strode out of the door, leaving her alone and helpless with her handlers.

      Gemma gazed up pleadingly as the two dark haired women and their powerfully built male companion stood over her, their cruel eyes filled with mocking glints of laughter as they watched her futile efforts to break free of the leather straps binding her.

      The taller of the two women chuckled coldly, "Forget it, slavegirl. There's no way you can escape. Now listen and listen carefully because we'll only tell you once. You're a slave, bought and paid for and we're here to train you. The only thing you need to know is that if you don't do what we tell you, when we tell you, you'll get punished. Mr Roxwell doesn't want your pretty little body marked for the time being so we won't use whips on you yet, but don't get your hopes up girl. We know lots of other ways to discipline slaves. So, if you've got any sense, you'll learn fast."

      "That's right," the second woman bent low, her face only inches from Gemma's, "But don't learn too fast slavegirl. We enjoy punishing uncooperative slaves and I can think of lots of things I'd like to do to you," and her eyes gleamed with a cold menace that struck terror into Gemma's heart.

      "Things like this," the brunette hissed and Gemma's eyes bulged as the woman's slim fingers, each tipped by long, sharp, crimson-tipped nails, darted forward and captured Gemma's nipples.

      Bound far too tightly to be able to draw back or evade the woman's grip, Gemma gasped as the fingers squeezed her sensitive buds and instant arousal shot through her breasts. Then, she froze arousal changing to sheer terror as the red talons hooked like claws, their sharp points dimpling the tender flesh at the bases of Gemma's nipples and sending tiny flashes of pain into her body.

      The woman chuckled, "See, there are lots of ways to punish a slave," and Gemma whimpered into her gag, her eyes fixed beseechingly on the brunette's face.

      The hands dropped and Gemma slumped, her brain numbed with terror and despair as she realised that she would be given no option but to do exactly as she was told. Unless she was prepared to defy them and suffer the consequences of the punishments that they were not only able, but seemingly more than willing to inflict on her!

      A cold dread began to fill her body, for Gemma knew that she did not have the courage to defy them. The ease with which the woman had first aroused her and then demonstrated just how childishly simple it would be to punish and torment her, unnerved the blonde completely and Gemma felt her will to resist beginning to crumble and seep away as the hopelessness of her position sank into her brain.

      She shook her head in disbelief, refusing to accept the evidence of her own eyes as the man strolled casually from the room, only to return seconds later with a coiled black leather strap in his right hand.

      He spoke for the first time, "This is called a Devil's Palm, slavegirl," he said calmly, unrolling the strap to reveal five broad, flat fingers of leather braided into a thick handle, "And this is what it does."

      Before Gemma could even begin to anticipate the action his right hand rose and then fell with a wristy flick.

The sharp "Splaat" of leather impacting on the exposed and tender flesh of Gemma's inner left thigh was followed by a split second of absolute silence. A silence broken by a high, breathy squeal of pained anguish from behind Gemma's mouth-filling gag as an angry red patch bloomed in her smooth skin where the sudden blow had landed.

      Tears of shock and pain filled her brown eyes and her slim muscles corded vainly as Gemma fought against her bonds, but they were far too strong and held her easily despite her frantic efforts.

      Strong fingers gripped her jaw and she winced as she was forced to look up, into the determined face of her assailant, "Disobedience will not be tolerated, slave," he hissed coldly, "You have been warned," and he moved away to join his companions.

      Devastated, her thigh burning with a stinging fire, Gemma whimpered piteously, but to no avail. Her handlers remained completely unmoved by her anguish and the cruel smiles playing about the corners of their lips told Gemma more clearly than any words that it would be futile to look for any sympathy or pity from their direction.

      Sixty seconds ticked by. Sixty seconds in which Gemma faced the almost unthinkable. No matter how impossible it seemed, she was a captive! She could be kept naked and in bondage! And she could be, and would be, cruelly punished if she failed to obey!

      By the time her captors broke the tense silence and moved towards her. Gemma knew what she must do.  No matter what the cost to her dignity or ego, she would obey and cooperate with them until she got the chance to escape and bring them to the justice they so richly deserved!

      Then, Gemma vowed to herself, then we shall see who laughs last and who has the upper hand.

      Filled with a fierce determination kindled by her undeserved punishment and her desire to see her kidnappers brought to book, Gemma did her best to hide her justified anger as the taller woman told her that she was to be untied, but that if she made any attempt to resist or disobey, she would be made to regret it.

      As the straps securing her were unbuckled, Gemma crumpled to the floor, her limbs numbed after hours of immobility. Helpless, she groaned as her gag was removed and returning circulation brought pins and needles, but her handlers remained unsympathetic, ordering her to hurry up and get onto her knees.

      She tried to protest and explain, but her attempt was rudely cut short as the leather thongs of the Devil's Palm slapped smartly across her buttocks, bringing a gasp of pain from her lips and an undignified scramble to take up the ordered position. Burning with resentment and aching in every joint, it was hard for Gemma to remember her plan and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she managed to control her temper.

      "Good. Now listen up, slavegirl. We don't have time to train you fully. That will have to be completed later. For now, you'll just learn the basics. Which are as follows. One, you obey immediately and exactly every order given to you by a Master or Mistress. As far as you're concerned, that means anybody you see while you are here. Two, you don't speak until you're spoken to and when you do, you call everyone Master or Mistress. And three, you get down on your knees whenever you meet a Master or Mistress and you stay there until you're told you can get up. Right, have you got that, slavegirl?"

      Gemma hesitated. Of course she understood, the three rules weren't exactly difficult to grasp, but their underlying intent was all too plain. Acceptance of the rules meant acceptance that others controlled her and had the right to give her orders that she would have to obey.

      Not something to be accepted lightly, even if it was only until she could escape.

      "I said, have you got that," the harsh demand was accompanied by a stinging blow from the leather palm and Gemma leapt to her feet rubbing her right buttock.

      "You have five seconds to get back in position and answer the question."

      There was no anger in the voice, but it held a cold arrogance that sent a shiver up Gemma's spine and she somehow knew, without knowing quite how, that a failure to get back on her knees would be extremely unpleasant for her.

      Scarlet with embarrassment and furious with herself for being so weak, Gemma sank meekly to her knees and lowered her face to hide her shame as she muttered, "Yes, I understand."

      "That's better. Masters do not care to repeat their orders to slaves. You would have received six strokes of the palm if you had disobeyed."

      Gemma raised her head slowly and flinched as she met the merciless eyes of her handlers, realising with a convulsive gulp just how close she had come to earning herself a punishment.

      "However, you did fail to address us as Masters and for that you will receive two strokes. Bend forward and place your hands behind your neck."

      Gemma's draw dropped and she stared dumbly at the speaker for long seconds, then, recovering her powers of speech, gasped, "No! No, I won't! You can't do this to me!"

      "Oh, but we can, slavegirl. We can and we will. And that is the second time you have failed to call us Masters. You have now earned four strokes. Any further delay or disobedience will cost you six more. Now, get in position!"

      The final four words were snapped out in a low, venomous growl and Gemma shuddered wildly, frightened by the suppressed anger in the tone and the knowledge that she was alone against the three of them. If it came to it, she could not prevent them from tying her up again and then punishing her and she was bright enough to realise that if she made them go to such lengths, any punishment she did receive would probably be far worse than the one they already planned for her.

      Trembling like a leaf, Gemma laced her fingers behind her neck and inclined her body forward a few inches.

      "Further, slavegirl. Further, I said! Go on, right down on your knees. Good, now keep still and don't make a sound unless you want your punishment to be doubled!"

      There was absolutely no trace of pity in the voice and Gemma, doubled over into a tight, trembling ball, clamped her lips together, shuddering as cool leather slid over her upraised buttocks, then tensing as it lifted away.

      Flaring heat erupted across her left buttock and Gemma's jaw clenched as she fought not to scream, her fingers clawing at the empty air as a second blow sent matching, blistering heat into her tautly presented right buttock.

      A shrill squeal of shock greeted the penetration of knowing fingers between Gemma's thighs, but her instinctive recoil was forestalled by a sharp order, "One more inch, slave, just one and your punishment trebles!"

      Explosive gasps of arousal burst from Gemma's nose as skilful caresses sent arousal surging into her belly, but the threat of savage reprisals if she resisted held her captive and her eyes filled with tears of shame and anguish as fear and desire fought for supremacy in her tormented body.

      Helpless, she could not stop herself becoming aroused and as her labia and clitoris were stroked and rubbed and caressed, her thighs parted to open her to the wonderful, terrible fingers that created such delicious havoc in her belly.

      Instantly, the leather struck again and the order, "Resume the position, slave," forced Gemma to raise her smarting buttocks high in the air once more, despite her fervent wish to spread herself wide and allow the fingers to give her the climax she longed for.

      "Hot little slavegirl," a woman's voice whispered in her ear and Gemma, far gone in her need, nodded and moaned, "Yes, Mistress," as her belly swirled and bubbled with furious lust.

      "Then you had best climax as a slavegirl," the woman chuckled and her hands burrowed beneath Gemma to fasten on the brunette's nipples as she arched her back to raise her breasts and deliver them into the waiting palms.

      The crack of leather across Gemma's bottom, the chuckle of her Mistress and the shrill shriek of ecstasy of a slavegirl at orgasm, blended into one as a mixture of pleasure and pain sent Gemma hurtling into a tremendous climax and her body convulsed to the power of her surrender as heated love juices spurted into her belly and sex, drenching the fingers embedded deep within her.

      Shattered, Gemma curled into a tight foetal ball as the hands left her and could only whimper softly to herself, her hands clamped between her thighs as massive spasms of lust raced through and over her as her orgasm ran its course.

      Dimly, through her haze of intense sexual pleasure, Gemma heard her handlers discussing her.

      "Yes. She shows promise. I don't know where Roxwell finds them.

      "No, nor me. Still, as long as he does, we get well paid."

      "She should do well at the meeting, I should think."

      "Yes, she's just the type they like. Come on, let's get her fixed up for the night. I could do with a nice long drink."

      Too exhausted to fight and knowing that any attempt would be doomed to failure, Gemma made no resistance as she was hauled to her feet, marched out of the room and into another, smaller cell with a solid iron door.

      "Toilet and basin in there," a casual wave of an arm, "Bed there. We'll feed you in the morning. Get some sleep."

      The door clanged shut and bolts grated. Gemma was alone.

      She stumbled to the toilet on wobbly legs, drank a little water, then tottered back to the bed where she fell face down and went out like a light.

      Her first day as a slave was over....but there were many, many more to come!

CHAPTER 3

      In the underground slave quarters where Gemma was held prisoner, the lights burned continuously and she very quickly lost all track of time, disorientated by the absence of the natural rhythms of day and night. Instead, her life came to be ruled by the orders of her handlers and she slipped imperceptibly into an unthinking acceptance of the routine they imposed upon her. When they brought her food, she ate. Ordered to rest, she slept, conserving her strength for the moment she prayed would come. The moment when her captors lowered their guard and unwittingly gave her the opportunity to escape.

      It would come, she kept telling herself grimly, it must come, for each time her handlers came to her, Gemma's traitorous body betrayed her, leaping and shuddering and spasming shamefully to their kisses and caresses and, most embarrassingly of all, to the awful and yet guiltily pleasurable smarting of her buttocks as she was punished for some minor failure.

      In some ways, the simplicity of her routine and the rigid discipline forced on her, came almost as a relief to Gemma. As a businesswoman, she was used to making tough decisions every day and dealing with the stresses and pressures of fierce competition, but as a captive, she no longer had any choices to make. Her life was straightforward, well defined and limited by the strictly enforced rules set by her captors. All Gemma was required to do was obey and each time she surrendered to the inevitable, her capacity and even her desire to resist, shrank a little more. Time and again, Gemma swore to herself that she would not give in, that she would see her three tormentors and Roxwell and especially Mike, brought to book for what they had done to her, but as the hours and days passed, it became increasingly difficult for her to imagine just how that desire could be achieved.

      None of the conspirators involved in her kidnapping were likely to help her and nobody else knew what had happened. Gemma knew she was on her own and racked her brains trying to think of some way out of her predicament.

      Her only hope and a very slim one at that, was the meeting Roxwell had mentioned. Maybe someone at that would find out what was going on and insist that she was set free. It wasn't much to pin her hopes on, but it was all Gemma had and she cherished it with every bit of optimism she had left as she lay on her bed awaiting the return of her handlers and the resumption of her training.

      "Up, slavegirl," the terse command was accompanied by a sharp smack to the rounded curve of Gemma's left buttock and her eyes snapped open as she was jerked rudely from sleep.

      Ingrained responses sent her rolling from the bed and onto her knees, head lowered submissively and her wrists crossed behind her back before her brain was awake enough for Gemma to realise the significance of her actions.

      Her face flushed redly as her handlers chuckled, "Very good slavegirl. Your training is obviously bearing fruit. Keep up the good work and you will earn yourself a nice reward."

      The sardonic chuckle accompanying the words added to Gemma's embarrassment, but she couldn't help the ripple of arousal that warmed her belly and crotch as she anticipated the nature of the promised "reward".

      Each day of her captivity ran to the same ruthless pattern. Awoken from an exhausted sleep by either the skilful arousal of her naked body, or, as on this occasion, the tingling impact of a hand or the Devil's Palm on her unsuspecting buttocks, Gemma was forced to demonstrate her mastery of the basic positions which she, as a slavegirl, was required to assume when ordered to display herself to a Master or Mistress. Each position, whether sitting, standing, kneeling or doubled-over in the frighteningly vulnerable "Punishment" pose, was shamefully explicit, every part of her breasts, crotch and buttocks exposed to view for the enjoyment and use of any watchers who wished her to demonstrate the extent of her submission. Only when her trainers were satisfied with Gemma's efforts was the brunette permitted breakfast ... and only then on her knees with her hands at first tied, but later left free, at the small of her back. The explanation being that she was a slave and, as such, dependent on her Masters for even the food she was given. Or not, as the Masters chose, she trembled to hear.

      The demonstration of her complete reliance on her captors reinforced the lesson of their power and Gemma was forced to accept their hand feeding of her, just as she was forced to accept the humiliation of proferring her nudity to their critical scrutiny and enduring their demands to arch her spine, thrust out her breasts and spread her thighs to present herself ever more shamefully.

      Resistance or refusal to obey was ruthlessly punished and Gemma soon learned that although her trainers had been forbidden by Roxwell to use whips on her, a combination of cruelly tight bondage and the blistering impact of hard hands or the Devil's Palm on her tautly curved flesh was more than enough to overcome her desire to fight back against the rigid discipline imposed upon her.

      Screaming and pleading for mercy, begging to be allowed to obey, Gemma's slim body writhed and twisted in the mesh of ropes securing her as her punished bottom flared a stinging, vivid red and tears of pain and anguish rolled down her cheeks as she was taught to obey without question.

      Released from her bonds and wincing with pain and despair, she struggled as hard as she knew how to obey and be pleasing to the tyrannical trainers who demanded perfection, until her body grew lithe and supple, changing from one sexually provocative pose to another with the helpless, erotic grace of a true slavegirl who knew that she could, and would, be harshly punished if her performance, demeanour and submission failed to meet the demands of her Masters.

      As day followed day, the frequency of her punishments reduced in direct proportion to the increase in her obedience and her gradual, unwilling acceptance of her enslavement and the last glimmering embers of Gemma's defiance glowed only fitfully as the pitiless regime of her training ground down her ability and desire to resist.

      At this lowest point of Gemma's misery, when the future seemed black and hopeless, her trainers relented.

      Well used to the subjugation of captive slavegirls they chose their moment perfectly and Gemma, even had she been aware of the subtle machinations of her captors, was in no condition to resist the overwhelming assault launched on her body and her senses.

      "You have done well, slavegirl and have earned yourself a reward."

      Kneeling, head down, her breasts heaving from the exertions of a long and strenuous training session and her buttocks smarting from repeated applications of the dreaded Devil's Palm, Gemma trembled in case the words were just a cruel hoax played on her by captors who seemed impossible to please. She had tried so hard, yet the three trainers demanded more and yet more from her, until she had wept even as she forced her body into still greater and greater efforts to meet their impossibly high standards. Her limbs ached and her buttocks stung and she longed to be allowed to rest, but knew that if she dared to disobey or even ask for a respite, the leather would sting her flesh again.

      "Stand up and go across the the wall slavegirl."

      Gemma forced down her aches and rose to her feet as gracefully as she could, walking over to where two of her trainers waited, only the involuntary widening of her eyes betraying her anxiety as she saw open leather cuffs dangling from short chains attached to iron rings set into the brick wall.

      "Back to the wall, limbs spread," the voice was remorseless and Gemma summoned up her last remaining courage to meet whatever trail lay ahead. She could not run, could not fight, could only endure and obey and her eyes filled with hot tears as she turned and allowed her wrists to be secured in the heavy leather of the cuffs. Her ankles too, were buckled into a second pair of cuffs near the floor and she gulped nervously as the chains were shortened and her limbs spread wide into a massive spreadeagle.

      Unable to move and with her naked body utterly exposed, her frightened brown eyes gazed pleadingly at her captors as they stood before her, small smiles playing about their lips as they appraised the sweet curves of her breasts and belly.

      "You have earned the reward of an obedient slavegirl," the taller woman chuckled, "And now we shall make you climax as an obedient slavegirl should."

      Gemma's draw dropped open and her eyes bulged as she realised that there was, quite literally, nothing she could do to prevent the woman carrying out her promise. She was chained helplessly and totally vulnerable to any of the three. Even if she screamed, no-one would hear, or care and she was well aware that she could easily be gagged if they so chose.

      Gemma's belly gave a huge jerk of excitement and a strangled snort burst from her nose as the horrible, but undeniably erotic prospect of being forced to respond and climax, whether she wanted to or not, sent a hot gush of love juices down into her lewdly gaping sex.

      The woman noted Gemma's instinctive reaction and chuckled again. "Randy little bitch. You're gasping for it aren't you, eh? You want it and you're going to get it. From all three of us. One at a time and then all together, until ...

      "No! No, you can't! You mustn't!" Gemma's shrill squeal of protect cut the woman off, then trailed off into a terrified, appalled silence as she realised that they most certainly could!

      The man nodded coldly, "Yes, we can. You are a slave and we can do anything we like. And we shall!"

      Gemma gasped and licked her dry lips, "Please? she whispered, "Please, Master, I ... I  can't!"

      "Oh, but you can, slavegirl. Just watch."

      Gemma's soft lips opened to form another protest, but before her first word could emerge, the second woman, silent up to this point, reached out her long, scarlet tipped fingers and Gemma's protest died in a hoarse scream of shock, and intense need as one hand fastened on her left breast and the other slid between the spread apart lips of her sex.

Gemma's fingers curled into claws and the taut muscles of her straddled thighs corded beneath her smooth skin as devastating waves of electrifying arousal raced through her spreadeagled frame, each firm caress of the woman's fingers bringing a panting gasp and a violent shudder from her defenceless victim as Gemma's frantic passion grew higher and hotter.

Moaning and whimpering in the grip of lusts she was powerless to control, Gemma shrieked, "Please Mistress. Give it to me, please I beg you, Mistress, let me come. Make me come, oh please make me come!

      The woman's red lips curled into an evil grin of triumph and Gemma's eyes grew round with the realisation that she had begged as a slave to be given a slave's climax. Driven beyond her limits and incapable of further resistance, Gemma capitulated to the inevitability of her enslavement.

      Two fingers drove deep into the moist, slick warmth of the brunette's sex, a thumb rubbed firmly at the exquisitely sensitive nub of her protruding clitoris ... and Gemma's quaking belly exploded into a huge orgasm!

      The chains at her outflung wrists and ankles held her immobile as powerful contractions racked her belly and Gemma arched her head back, her mouth wide in a silent scream as her climax sent heated love juices flooding around her quivering belly. For long moments, the helpless slavegirl locked rigid in her bonds, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as her orgasm engulfed her, then her eyes slowly opened and she stared in horror at the three trainers who stood before her, drinking in the sight and sounds of her abject and trembling submission to their erotic dominance.

      "She's too damned noisy," the taller woman commented acidly, "I'm going to gag her before I make her submit again," and she strolled casually over to the nearby bench and selected a huge leather rod-gag before turning back towards Gemma.

      Shuddering to the slowly fading power of her orgasm, Gemma gaped in disbelief as the woman approached her, but then, as the woman raised the black and shining gag towards her lips, the shocked captive realised the awful truth. They really were going to force her to climax to all three of them!

      "Oh no! You can't! Not again, I'll never be ..... Awffmmhh! Hhmmpff!"

      Propelled by the woman's strong fingers, the massive leather rod forced its way between Gemma's protesting jaws and sank deep into her mouth where its bulk pinned her tongue to the floor of her mouth, bulged out her cheeks and prevented any semblance of recognisable speech! As it was buckled tightly behind her neck, Gemma's nostrils flared as she sucked in air and her head jerked from side to side in futile efforts to dislodge the silencing device.

      "That's much better," the woman smiled, "Now I shall test how well this slave responds to a little mixture of pain and pleasure," and to Gemma's sheer terror, drew the five-bladed Devil's Palm from her belt and allowed its leather thongs to slide through her fingers.

      Frozen with horror, Gemma could not tear her eyes away from the swinging leather and her throat worked convulsively as she mumbled wordless pleas for mercy into the gag sealing her lips.

      Her whole body flinched as the woman let the thongs trail across her breasts and nipples, their touch both frightening and, at the same time, distinctly erotic! Not daring to admit the fact, even to herself, Gemma gulped nervously, trying hard to fight down the definite arousal she could not help but feel as the leather strands brushed her sensitive buds. They always had been sensitive, but after the way she had been aroused and made to climax by the other woman, they were even worse than usual and Gemma groaned to herself as, despite her fear of the Devil's Palm and her determination not to become aroused, her nipples began to stir and grow hard.

      The woman chuckled and Gemma felt her face redden as her unwanted response was noted, but there was just nothing she could do except close her eyes and blot out the cruel smile of her tormentor.

      A mistake, for the moment her eyes closed, her trainer gave a wristy flick and the strands of the Devil's Palm snapped down across Gemma's left thigh with stinging accuracy.

      Gemma's muffled squeal and her Mistress's rebuke came as one, "I didn't tell you to close your eyes, slavegirl."

      Unable to protect herself, Gemma moaned in anguish as the leather returned to her nipples, teasing and toying with the delicate buds until they grew hard and rigid, standing erect atop her small breasts and sending jolts of arousal streaking through her helpless body with each pleasurable but frightening touch.

      Slowly, cruelly slowly, the leather thongs inched their way lower, down and across Gemma's trembling belly and the spread brunette raised her eyes to stare into the glittering gaze of her tormentor.

      The woman nodded and Gemma's belly surged with a swirling, fiery heat as she understood that the woman was going to use her whip to arouse between Gemma's gaping thighs! The whip inched lower and a great gasp of despairing ecstasy was torn from the brunette's throat as the cruel thongs flicked gently at the moist and puffy flesh of her labia.

      The sensation was shattering and Gemma arched in her bonds as a malestrom of conflicting emotions crashed over her. Fear and horror there certainly were, but mixed with them were tremendous arousal, blazing need and an element of guilty pleasure, for Gemma suddenly realised that she was actually enjoying being the helpless victim of circumstances she could not control!

      The shock sent her brain reeling and she gasped into her gag as a second climax built towards its peak in her roiling belly.

      "Not yet, slavegirl," the harsh order was accompanied by a patch of smarting heat on her right thigh as the Devil's Palm landed, but even this was unable to hold back the inexorable growth of Gemma's orgasm, serving only to add fuel to the flames of lust consuming her.

      Twice more the leather cracked across Gemma's thighs, but her passion was beyond control and her belly began to pulse rythmically in the last seconds before her orgasm broke.

      Fingers seized her throbbing nipples, pinching sharply and drawing a shrill gasp of delicious pain from her, the additional stimulation breaking down the last barrier.

      Gemma convulsed hugely, her belly pounding and shuddering as sprays of love juices jetted into her and she surrendered to the furious passions unleashed by her bondage and arousal at the hands of trainers skilled in the art of subjugation and wise in the ways of slavegirls and what could be extracted from them.

      Lost in her own world of passion and ecstasy, Gemma neither knew nor cared what her submission showed about her as she savoured every last drop of sexual pleasure to be had from her orgasm.

      Later, Gemma would remember and wonder how it could be that she had become a slave, but at that moment her physical lusts ruled her completely and she could no more control her responses than she could escape from the chains and leather which held her captive.

      As she returned to Earth from the sexual heights to which she had been transported, Gemma was confronted with cold, hard reality as she found that she was still securely bound and tightly gagged.

      Worse, the third member of her trainers, the man, was staring at her with a cold, speculative gleam in his eye. A gleam that told Gemma that her ordeal was not yet over.

      Forced to endure his long, slow, humiliatingly detailed inspection of her nude body, Gemma's face flamed a bright, embarrassed scarlet and her limbs tensed vainly against her bonds in her efforts to hide her shame at the all too obvious evidence of her surrenders to the two female trainers.

      His eyes lingered briefly at her swollen nipples, then tracked slowly down across her rounded, sweat-streaked belly and Gemma whimpered softly into her gag as he bent his knees and subjected the engorged lips of her sex to a minute examination, his low chuckle adding to her misery as he gazed at the silvery beads of love juices bedewing her thighs and dark pubic hair.

       An excellent job of preparation, ladies," he said, smiling up at his companions, "I feel sure that your efforts will make my task a simple one," and he lowered his head once more.

      Staring down at the top of his sleek black head, Gemma's eyes bulged with the sudden knowledge of what was about to be done to her and the horrifying realisation that she could do nothing to prevent it.

      His head moved forward and Gemma screamed in anguish as his lips and tongue found the most intimate and sensitive recesses of her defenceless sex, sending her hurtling into a whirling vortex of devastating arousal. The incredible sensations, coupled with her inability to move and the awful fact of her complete vulnerability to a man who held such absolute power over her, worked together to overwhelm Gemma's feeble resistance and her body writhed and plunged and bucked within the strict confines of her ruthless bondage until her entire shuddering form was bathed in sweat and her muffled screams and moans filled the cell.

      Almost at her peak, she sobbed in disbelief and loss as the man sat back on his heels and stared deep into her frantic eyes, "Slavegirls like you are not permitted to control the responses of their body," he told her cruelly, "That is for their Masters to decide. You do understand that, don't you, slavegirl?" and he sat calmly waiting for Gemma to agree.

      Shuddering in her intense need, Gemma longed to deny his words and prove to him that she still retained control of her own body and destiny ... but her belly throbbed and seethed with furious heat and she knew that she must, simply must,release the climax boiling within her.

      With a choking sob, Gemma nodded her head, delivering herself helplessly into the power of her Masters!

      "Very good, slavegirl," he said mockingly, "Then you may climax as the slave you are," and his lips returned to Gemma's trembling body, nuzzling into the slick, wet heat between her thighs, his tongue licking up and down the length of her parted sex and his lips capturing and tugging gently at the hard, protruding numb of her clitoris as she screamed in ecstatic anguish.

      Her climax burst upon her like a bomb as the two women bent towards her and their warm, wet mouths fastened greedily on her outthrust breasts, lips and teeth sucking and nipping exquisitely at her rigid nipples, the added stimulation sending Gemma plunging over the precipice of her orgasm.

      Far beyond control, Gemma's belly pulsed and shuddered and bucked as she surrendered unconditionally to the blazing passion forced upon her and before the watching eyes of her captors displayed the depth and extent of her sexual subjugation to their implacable will. Spasm after spasm racked her spreadeagled body and tears of shame and despair and unbearable pleasure poured down her gagged cheeks as Gemma recognised her defeat in the cruel grins of her watchers and knew that her body's betrayal of her condemned her to bondage and servitude for as long as her Masters chose to exert their absolute authority over her.

      An authority which would and did, increase day by say as Gemma was trained and punished and rewarded until the obedience became almost second nature to her and her thoughts of escape and revenge grew less and less frequent as she came to the unwelcome realisation that there was no way out of her dilemma.

      Her only consolation was that, so far at least, she had not actually been taken, but even that small comfort was overshadowed by the certainty that she would be!

      By Roxwell, who would insist on getting full value for the money he had invested.

CHAPTER 4

      Gemma stood motionless in the pose of a slavegirl's submission she had been taught so well, her back slightly arched and legs spread to display her breasts and belly, wrists tightly clasped at the small of her back and her head lowered.

      She was neither bound nor gagged, but dared not break her position or make a sound, for she was in the presence of her trainers and was acutely conscious that the smallest breach of discipline on her part would bring forth instant retribution in the form of stinging lashes from the Devil's Palms hanging from the belts of her three watchers.

      Her downcast eyes focused on the rapid rise and fall of her own naked breasts, but Gemma had been held prisoner long enough to no longer feel embarrassment at her enforced nudity and was only relieved that she had managed to get through a whole training session without incurring the displeasure of her captors and the punishment that invariably accompanied their displeasure.

      The taller of her two female captors walked behind her, a broad shiny strap in her fist and Gemma winced as the leather was buckled tightly around her wrists, confining her hands behind her.

      "Look up, slavegirl. See the nice new present we have for you.."

      Obeying the order, Gemma bit back a gasp of dismay as her eyes fastened on the "present" laid out across her male trainer's arm. Polished black leather and shining steel glittered in the lights and she gulped nervously at what appeared to be a long, tapering tube of leather, wide at one end, but narrowing to a small bag at the other, with a heavy steel ring inset at the very tip. A line of much smaller steel rings ran up each edge of the V-shaped opening and through these, black leather lacing criss-crossed from top to bottom, while at the top edge, two long buckled straps were firmly stitched.

      Gemma had never seen anything like it in her life, but knew instinctively that, whatever it was, she was not going to enjoy it!

      Not that her enjoyment, or otherwise, would make the slightest difference to her trainers.

      So it proved, for, as the shorter woman took unconcealed delight in explaining to Gemma that the tube was called a singe glove and was designed to clamp Gemma's arms rigidly behind her, the other two trainers took the device behind the brunette's back and began to work the bag end over Gemma's clasped fingers.

      Knowing that any resistance would be both futile and punished, Gemma allowed her wrists to be lifted away from her spine and felt the leather smoothed over her hands and it was only as the bag tightened that Gemma realised that she could no longer unclasp her fingers. Her puzzlement and anxiety grew as the single glove was worked up her forearms and over her elbows to a point near her shoulder blades, but she still failed to comprehend the true nature of the device, even when the long attached straps were drawn over her shoulders, crossed between her breasts, down and under her arms and clipped back to the rear of the single glove.

      The truth only began to dawn on Gemma when she felt the laces begin to tighten...and by then, it was far too late!

      Inch by inch, ring by ring, the remorseless tightening began to clamp Gemma's wrists, then her forearms together and as the tension increased, so did her horror, until she could keep silent no longer.

      "Ooooh! Oh, stop, Masters, please stop. It's tight!"

      "It's meant to be! Now shut up slavegirl or you'll be gagged and punished!"

      Gemma gaped at the woman who she had always thought of as the softest and most sympathetic of her captors and her belly quivered with a sudden fear as the woman drew her Devil's Palm and flicked it delicately across Gemma's defenceless breasts. The warning was crystal clear and Gemma shuddered in despair as she realised that her hopes were groundless. None of her trainers were in the least bit sympathetic to her situation and she could expect no mercy whatsoever if she disobeyed!

      Clenching her teeth together to prevent the smallest sound escaping, Gemma strained her shoulders back as the laces continued their inexorable tightening. Her elbows squeezed closer and closer and her brain reeled as they touched and then welded together as her arms formed a single, pained column. Behind her, the man checked the tension of each lacing and tied the final knot, sealing Gemma's arms into their leather sheath. With his companion, her walked around in front of Gemma and watched as the woman pulled each of the buckled straps cruelly tight, holding the single glove securely in place and eliminating even the faintest hope of Gemma somehow being able to slip the leather down her arms.

      "Excellent! It looks good on her."

      "Yes. Let's see you get out of that slavegirl.""Does good things for her breasts, too. Just look at the way they jut out."

      "That should add to her appeal. Make them more sensitive too."

      As her captors smiled and discussed their uncomfortable bondage of her, Gemma stared wide eyed from one to the other, her misery deepening as she saw no signs of compassion in their cruel faces. The mention of her breasts sent her eyes downwards and she gave a soft whimper as she saw that they were quite correct. The tension of the single glove forced her shoulders back and combined with the tightness of the straps beneath her breasts to left and project the twin mounds into shameful prominence. So much so that her coffee brown nipples jutted like acorns and she found to her horror that even when she wriggled her shoulder her tautened breasts barely quivered!

      "Stand still, slavegirl."

      The waspish command froze Gemma into immobility.

      "Don't move! We'll be back for you shortly," and the door banged shut behind the trio.

      Alone with her thoughts, and her bondage, Gemma stood as she had been placed, the unremitting tension in her arms uncomfortable but bearable and serving to remind her at every moment of her lowly place in her captors' scheme of things. Escape was completely out of the question, her tightly clasped leather sheathed fingers could not possibly operated a door handle, even if it was not locked. In any case, she was in an underground complex, beneath, she assumed, Roxwell's house and had no idea where she was or which was to run even if she did manage, by some miracle to get to the surface!

      Her chances were one in a million and if she tried to escape and failed...the consequences of that didn't bear thinking about!

      Time passed and Gemma's arms grew stiffer and stiffer as she tried to decide whether to risk her trainer's displeasure by disobeying their order. Very slowly and very carefully, listening intently for the first sound of their return, she began to wriggle her shoulders and tense her arms in their sheath. Gradually she became less cautious and began to pant as her efforts grew more forceful, then sank to her knees, her torso writhing as she exerted her full strength against the heavy leather cocooning her limbs.

      The leather gave not a fraction of an inch and Gemma mumbled curses under her breath as she remained helplessly encased despite every twist and wriggle and contortion she could think of.

      "Damn!" How the hell did Houdini ever get out of these damn things?"

      Silence was her only answer and Gemma shrugged her shoulders angrily as she gave up in frustration and resumed her position exactly as before.

      By the time her trainers reappeared, a chastened and depressed Gemma waited resignedly for their commands knowing full well that there was no way she could free herself without help and that there was no help to be had. Tied up as she was, there was no alternative for her but to do exactly as she was bid and hope that, sometime, somewhere, she would get the chance to get away.

      Before her resistance was broken entirely and she became a permanent and, Heaven forbid, willing slave!

      Without a word, Gemma's trainers walked over to where she stood and their fingers captured her nipples and stroked her labia, sending irresistible arousal crashing through her body before she had a chance to prepare herself. The breath burst from her lungs in a great gasp of helpless desire and her body writhed against their hands as their arrogant plundering of her nudity reinforced her sense of  submission with a burning desire to be made to climax as the bound captive she was.

      Gemma's wishes, however, were not to be granted, for all too soon the gasping, madly responding brunette their hands were taken from her body, to leave her moaning in loss and furiously aroused.

      Strong hands seized her elbows, "Forward, slavegirl," and Gemma was propelled from her cell, along a corridor and into a lift. As it purred upwards, Gemma broke her imposed silence, daring to risk punishment as a thousand questions tumbled through her brain.

      "Masters, where are you taking me? What's happening?"

      "Be silent, slavegirl or it will be the worse for you. You would be well advised to obey the rules you have been taught, Masters are not always as lenient as we have been."

      Her curiosity unsatisfied, Gemma was smart enough to recognise that any further speech on her part would be most unwise and subsided into a sulky silence.

      The lift door sighed open to reveal another corridor, but carpeted this time and Gemma walked forward as the grip on her elbows tightened. Past two plain wooden doors on each side, then through a third on the left.

      The room they entered was about twenty feet square and completely bare except for a thick carpet into which Gemma's bare feet sank luxuriously.

      There was no one there and Gemma's brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

      "On your knees, slavegirl. Ankles crossed," the order came from the man and as soon as Gemma obeyed a buckled strap drew taut, preventing her from rising and arching her slightly backwards as it was clipped to the ring at the finger end of her single glove.

      A sound from above made her arch her head to stare upwards, but as she did so, three brilliant spotlights clicked on, dazzling her and starkly illuminating her bound nudity.

      Dazzling Gemma, but not before she had seen a sort of minstrel's gallery projecting from the far wall about fifteen feet above the floor where she stood. A gallery where shadowy figures sat staring down.

      At her!

      Gemma screamed wildly, her eyes vainly trying to penetrate the brilliant glare of the lights, her mind stunned by the realisation that there were people up there! People watching her! People who could see every naked curve of her helpless body! Her bondage!

      She wrenched madly at her bound limbs, her screams of terror and outrage and fury echoing from the high ceiling as she fought to cover herself from the eyes she knew were there.

      Gemma froze in stunned disbelief as a disembodied voice spoke from above her dark head.

      "Thank you all for attending this slave auction, ladies and gentlemen. As you can see, we offer a fine young female on this occasion. She is, of course, not yet fully trained, but I am quite sure that all of you are perfectly capable of supplying the necessary instruction."

      A ripple of appreciative laughter from the watching audience broke the spell which held Gemma paralysed in its thrall.

      "No! she screamed, "No! No.o.o.o.!"

      From behind Gemma's agonised, uptilted head, a hand holding a massive leather gag appeared and Gemma's protests died in a gurgling splutter as it was forced cruelly between her jaws and deep into her mouth, then buckled tightly behind her neck. Silenced, she could only whimper in horror as the calm voice of the auctioneer resumed.

      "A fine pair of lungs, too, "he quipped, As you might expect from such a lovely chest. Now then, ladies and gentlemen, to the business of the evening. What am I bid for this slave-to-be? She has never felt the whip, as yet and as you have seen, she has much to learn. This is a rare opportunity, my friends. A brand new, untrained slavegirl. One who will only know the discipline which you choose to impose upon her as you bend her to your will. Shall we begin the bidding with fifteen thousand? Thank you madam. Thank you, sir. Seventeen thousand. Twenty thousand. Twenty five thousand. Thank you ma'am. Thirty thousand. Only thirty? Come, my friends, think of it. Think of the pleasure to be had. She will make a superb slave. Look at those breasts! That bottom, just begging for the touch of a whip! You could be the first to lay your whip there. The first to stripe it with your crop. And responsive too. You down there, show the ladies and gentlemen how she reacts."

      Gemma shrieked with anguish as she heard the order, but was held cruelly exposed in her bonds as hands darted down over her shoulders and fastened on her tensioned breasts, stroking and rubbing and squeezing her defenceless nipples until the crinkled flesh of her twin buds grew stiff and erect, throbbing unmercifully as she wept and sobbed and threw her head from side to side in desperate and utterly futile efforts to free herself and flee from the ruthless stimulation and the shameful exhibition of her enforced need.

      Totally at the mercy of her captors and before the prying eyes of the watchers above her, Gemma's tightly bound body shuddered galvanically as she was laid on her back and her yawning, pink-lipped sex exposed to the watching eyes and probing fingers of her trainers. Unable to help herself, Gemma was forced to orgasm and as her belly contracted with incredible power and she screamed in overwhelming anguish into her gag, the unseen auctioneer resumed his sales pitch!

      "A most impressive demonstration I am sure you will agree, ladies and gentlemen. And from a slavegirl who is untrained. Think how much more may be expected when she knows the whip! Thank you, madam. Thirty five thousand I am bid! Thirty eight. Forty. Excellent, sir. Forty two. Forty four. No more bids, then? At forty four. Going once, going twice at forty four thousand. All done? At forty four thousand. Sold to The Consortium! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."

      On her back on the thick carpet beneath the pitiless lights, Gemma's gagged face ran with tears as the terrified brunette tried to understand what had just happened to her.

      Surely, it could not be?

      It just wasn't possible...was it?

      She couldn't be auctioned like a..a piece of furniture, or a painting!

      And she hadn't even been able to see who had been bidding!

      A hand slapped her right hip and Gemma strained to look down.

      There, on her hip, an oblong of yellow paper stuck to her flesh.

      A muffled wail of sheer terror, horrified despair leaked past the thick gag in her mouth.

      Printed on the paper in large red letters, was a single word.

      SOLD!

      Gemma shook her head in refusal of the blunt message signified by the paper on her body, but as her ankles were untied and she was hauled unceremoniously to her feet and frog marched from the auction room, she groaned in anguished misery as her trainers laughingly congratulated each other on the successful outcome of their efforts.

      "That went really well. Better than I'd hoped."

      "Yes. I didn't expect her to fetch more than thirty thousand."

      "Forty four is an exceptionally high price. Our commission from Roxwell is going to make my bank manager a very happy man."

      "Right. Mine is going on that holiday to America I've been promising myself."

      "And it's all thanks to little Gemma here and the cooperative way she climaxed on demand at just the right moment to up the bidding."

      "So she's going to The Consortium, then. Can't say I envy her. They're really tough and demanding on a new slavegirl and she's in for a pretty hard time."

      "Yeah. Too bad, but that's life for a slave, so she'll just have to get used to it, won't she."

      Had it been able to, Gemma's jaw would have dropped in astonishment as she heard her enslavement and fate discussed so casually and with such scant regard for her feelings or desires, but her thick gag prevented any such displays and she was limited to rolling her eyes and mumbling soft, unintelligible protests as she was taken to the lift and back down to her cell. 

      a padlock snapped through the ring at the finger end of her single glove and a ring bolt in the wall secured her standing and she gazed despairingly at her three smiling captors.

      "You have done very well for us, slavegirl," they told her, "Our percentage of your sale price will be well worth our weeks' training, so we will give you a little advance information about what is going to happen to you now. It may help to save you some punishments if you take it to heart. You have been bought and paid for as a slavegirl and no matter how you feel about that, it is a fact and one you would be well advised to remember. You are not and won't be freed and you will be made to submit and obey, by force if necessary. You are now owned by a group known as The Consortium and they have paid a high price for you. They will expect you to be pleasing in every way and will have no compunction about punishing you if you do not give them exactly what they demand. The best advice to you is to forget what you once were, forget about any rights you may have had, forget about escaping or any silly ideas about resisting. You won't be able to and you'll only make things worse for yourself. So do as you are told, obey immediately and exactly, no matter what and life may not be so bad. Refuse to cooperate....well, you will regret it if you do! Right, now we are going to leave you. The Consortium will soon be here to collect you, so think about what we have told you. Believe us, its the best advice a slavegirl could have and you are a slavegirl. Your body already responds like one and it is only a matter of time until your mind surrenders to the inevitable."

      The three trainers nodded as one, their faces serious as Gemma's fate was outlined to her, then they turned and the heavy iron door closed firmly behind them.

      Alone and securely tethered, Gemma's brain raced as she reviewed the unwelcome news given to her. She now belonged, if that was the right word, to a group of people known as The Consortium. a group of people she didn't even know! People who, impossible though it seemed, intended to keep her as their slavegirl and treat her as the helpless subject of their sexual fantasies and erotic desires!

      An icy lump of sheer stark terror rose in Gemma's throat and she tugged and heaved at her leather clamped arms, desperate to escape the awful prospect of becoming the plaything of an unknown number of bondage enthusiasts, all intent on her submission!

      Iron and leather mocked her frantic exertions and Gemma wept big hot tears as she was forced to accept that she could not escape and would simply have to wait to see what her new owners, The Consortium, intended to do with her.

      Bolts rattled back at the door to her cell and as it swung open, Gemma, already knowing that she was doomed to failure, threw all of her small strength into one final battle against her bonds. To no avail and she shrank back against the brick wall as a tall figure strode into the room.

      Roxwell, his eyes glittering feverishly and his thin lips curled in a predatory leer!

      "So, my dear Gemma," he hissed, "We meet again, as I promised," and his shoulders shook with silent laughter as his eyes devoured the taut thrusts of her naked breasts and the sweet curves of her belly and hips.

      "I have been looking forward to this," he went on, "And now that you have been purchased by The Consortium, I intend to see much more of you, my dear. You see, I am a member of the group and my friends and I can hardly wait to..ah..initiate you into your new duties. As a full bondage slave, dedicated to serving your Masters and Mistresses in any way we choose."

      Gemma's wide eyes and trembling body made his cruel grin grow broader and he nodded gleefully as she realised the full extent of her hopeless predicament.

      "Mm, not only have I made a very healthy profit from your sale, my dear, but I shall still have the pleasure of seeing you kneel in humble submission before me and beg to be taken by your Master. Oh yes, I shall enjoy using your body, slavegirl and I shall enjoy seeing you serving my friends. A definite case of eating one's cake and having it, too, wouldn't you say?" and his evil chuckle sent a cold shiver through the helpless brunette.

      As if on cue, feet clattered down the corridor and Gemma squealed in shock and fear as a number of men and women walked into her cell, their hard smiles and coldly gleaming eyes drinking in her anguished horror and shamefully vulnerable nudity as they inspected their latest, and very expensive acquisition.

      The Consortium!

      Indifferent to Gemma's screams and moans, two men seized her legs and held her as a woman crouched down, took two shining steel rings from a small case, hinged them open and then closed them around Gemma's slim ankles, a sharp double click confirming that internal locking devices had functioned correctly.

      Staring down in numbed fascination past the heads of the two men holding her legs, Gemma gaped at the gleaming metal locked around her ankles, each seamless band with two smaller rings dangling from opposite sides. It took no great mental powers on Gemma's part to guess what these were for, but the stunning reality was made brutally clear as a second woman came forward with a long steel bar in her hands and the men exerted their superior strength to spread Gemma's legs wide, against every furious resistance the horrified brunette could put up.

      Clips at the ends of the bar snapped into the rings on Gema's ankle cuffs and the men released their grip and stood back as she fought madly to close her gaping thighs.

      Beads of sweat sprang out on her struggling body, but the fight was hopeless and at last, Gemma grew still, her brain reeling as eyes bulging in the knowledge that she was no match for her bonds or for the Masters and Mistresses who had bound her so thoroughly and in such a defenceless posture.

      She dared not raise her eyes, for she knew how utterly helpless she was and that every part of her body lay open and available to her watchers and feared that any movement might trigger the devastating assault she knew must come.

      "The Consortium will now take possession of its slave," the voice was calm, deep and unknown to Gemma and it sent a thrill of delicious fear and instant arousal racing through her. She was bound inescapably, incapable of any form of resistance and at the mercy of a large group of dominant men and women! There was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent or even delay the torment they meant to inflict upon her. She was the slave and they her Masters. She must, would be forced, to endure whatever they chose to do and she gasped into her gag as her breasts quivered and her groin moistened with anticipation.

      She threw her head back in delirious impotence as fingers captured her nipples, roamed over her belly and ribs, explored between her gaping thighs and delved into the crack between her buttocks, rolling, squeezing, caressing her twitching flesh, penetrating the recesses of her heated sex and bringing a shocked gasp from her nostrils as even the tight ring of her anal passage was breached by an inquisitive finger, until her whole body melted into a roaring sea of flame and lust and overwhelming arousal and she screamed in whimpered and pleaded to be allowed to climax.

      With her eyes screwed tightly shut and her slight frame juddering frenziedly to the shattering torment Gemma was not permitted even the briefest moment of rest and spiralled higher and higher into one pulverising climax after another, her body running with sweat and her sex and belly and thighs spattered with the shiny silver droplets of her submissions as she was forced to respond again and again to the merciless demands of her owners and Masters.

      Squealing for a mercy she was not shown, Gemma hurtled headlong into yet another orgasm as stinging hands cracked across her gyrating buttocks, adding searing heat to the unbearable stimulation of  every pleasure centre of her writhing body and wringing further spasms from her as she surrendered fully to the needs forced upon her.

      Exhausted and devastated, utterly subjugated by her Masters, Gemma fell to her knees, her arms angled high behind her and her forehead resting on the floor, her belly still pulsing explosively, as she was finally allowed to rest. All around her voices, some excited, some amused and some calm and dispassionate, discussed her performance and submissions and the shuddering brunette wept and sobbed into her gag as she heard Roxwell explain to other members of The Consortium, details of the business deal which had delivered her into their power. Cruel laughter greeted his explanation and Gemma moaned in black despair, knowing that none of his listeners felt even a twinge of pity for her terrible situation and that any hopes she might have had for mercy would not be realised.

      The Consortium held her in its iron grip and Gemma was coldly certain that its members would be satisfied with nothing less than her absolute obedience and submission to their will.

      The orgasms forced upon her and which still burned brightly in her belly were only a foretaste of what was to come and as Gemma faced her uncertain future of strict bondage and ruthlessly enforced sexual servitude, she could not deny the flaring heat of arousal which rippled through her body as she visualised the many ways in which she, as a helpless slavegirl, might be made to serve both male and female Masters.

      Masters who had both the power and the inclination to compel her to act out their wildest fantasies, no matter how outrageous or shameful.

      Gemma's speculations ended as she felt cool fingers begin to undo the buckled straps holding her single glove. She lifted her head, then squealed in sudden agony as a crop burned a thin line of red heat across her right thigh and a harsh voice ordered, "Keep your head lowered, slavegirl! You were not given permission to move."

      Her thigh throbbed with heat, but she knew better than to disobey and thrust her head back down, biting hard on her gag lest any sound she might make be interpreted as a protest and earn her another cruel punishment.

      The straps came free and the hands moved to the laces of her single glove, loosening their implacable grip on her arms until the leather could be peeled from her flesh.

      Numbed after their long confinement, Gemma's arms had no strength in them and she could not have resisted even if she had dared to try as her wrists were gripped and pulled in front of her.

      "Watch, slavegirl, as our steel binds you."

      The same woman moved forward and removed two glittering rings from the case, snapping one closed on each of Gemma's outstretched wrists, then fastening them together with a simple clip.

      Confined less than an inch apart, Gemma's wrists lay snugly side by side and she saw at once that there was no way for her fingers to reach the clip to release herself. Her spirits sank still further, the feel of cold, hard, unbreakable steel on her flesh reinforcing her captivity and confirming the impossibility of escape.

      The woman reached into the case again and Gemma's brown eyes opened wide as another shining ring, much larger and twice as wide as the bands on her wrists, was held up to her.

      Etched into the steel were the words "This slavegirl is the property of The Consortium," and Gemma shivered as the cold metal was placed about her slim throat and pressed closed, the internal locks clicking shut.

      Instantly, the two men holding her raised her arms and pulled her wrists to the rear of her neck, a second clip securing her cuffs to the collar and leaving the surprised brunette with her bent elbows forming a frame for her face and her breasts drawn upwards by the tension.

      "You now wear the collar of The Consortium, slavegirl," the same deep voice informed her and Gemma's eyes fixed on the speaker, a huge bear of a man standing well over six feet, with broad shoulders denoting great physical strength, piercing blue eyes, a large straight nose and thin lips. A riding crop dangled from his massive right hand and Gemma's eyes went instinctively to the fading red stripe on her thigh. This was the man who had struck her for raising her eyes without permission and she felt a mixture of fear and guilty arousal as she imagined herself struggling to please him, in the full knowledge that her would crop her if she failed!

      It was an intensely erotic image and she felt her face flush as his gaze bored into hers.

      "As a collared slave," he went on, "You will obey without question the orders of any Master or Mistress. Failure to do so will not be tolerated. You have received basic slave training and should know what is required of you. If you do not, you will be reminded," and he flexed the crop between his strong fingers, "We are The Consortium and we own you, slavegirl. Do not disappoint us."

      To Gemma's surprise, he turned and strode from the room, followed by most of the others until she was almost alone.

      Almost, but not quite, for Roxwell stayed, leaning casually against the wall until the last footfalls died away down the corridor.

      For a long minute, the millionaire gazed silently at Gemma's steel fettered body, relishing her helplessness and the brunette struggled vainly to get to her feet, her brain filled with a growing dread as he smiled at her futile efforts.

      At last, he moved to her and Gemma squealed in panic as he lay her on her back, her ankles doubled beneath her still clipped to the ends of the spreader bar and her thighs gaping hugely. Her thigh muscles tensed and she tore at her cuffed wrists, but was unable to get any leverage and lay pinned and immobilised by her own body weight as Roxwell slowly undressed and positioned himself between her uselessly clenching legs.

      "Poor little Gemma," he whispered softly, "Betrayed by your lover and business partner. What a shame, but you are a slavegirl now and your only hope is to please your Masters. All of them! I am only the first to enjoy your charms, my dear, in recognition of my..ah..acquisition of you, but as you saw, my colleagues in The Consortium are all eager to get to know you much better. And I am afraid that not all of them are as kind and considerate as me, slavegirl, so if I were you, I would try really hard to be pleasing for some can be quite..cruel..if they are not satisfied."

      Gemma stared down the nude, spread length of her defenceless body and her softly rounded belly gave a great kick of horrified arousal as Roxwlell moved forward and his massive erection pressed its way into her sex, his entry aided by the slick residue of her previous orgasms.

      Despite herself, Gemma squealed with unwanted passion as he took her, but she could not resist him and her body writhed and twisted as he pounded into her belly, building her inexorably towards climax. His long bony fingers sought and found her tender nipples and she screamed again as his caresses added to her burning need, sending her reeling to the very brink of release.

      He gathered himself and then thrust irresistibly into her and a shrill, breathy squeal burst from Gemma's flaring nostrils as his seed erupted into her belly and her own climax exploded in scalding jets of love juices as she bucked and jolted in her first full surrender as a slavegirl to a Master's dominant power!

      Devasted by the depth and intensity of her climax and hardly able to believe the blazing heat of her own participation, Gemma fought to deny the deemingly unthinkable. She had been ruthlessly taken by a man she hated and feared....and yet she had still come as if he had been a lover!

      How could that be?

      What was happening to her?

      Gemma had no answers and her mind raced as Roxwell withdrew, dressed himself, then bent to remove the spreader bar between her ankles, but only to clip her ankle cuffs together.

      Totally demoralised, she stared numbly up at him as he told her how much he had enjoyed her and how he looked forward to his next visit and she could only watch helplessly as he left her alone in her bondage to wait and wonder and worry about what her reactions to his taking of her really signified and what might happen when the other members of The Consortium imposed their will upon her!

CHAPTER 5

      "Again, slavegirl and this time, arch your spine further and hold the pose until you receive permission to move."

      Gemma blinked sweat out of her eyes and bit off the angry retort she longed to make, then stretched her body once more into the graceful but shamefully explicit display of the kneeling position she was being trained to perfect. With her knees spread wide and her big toes just touching behind her, Gemma's body was arched backwards in a sensual curve to display the lovely sweep of her thighs, belly, breasts and neck, her face pointing to the ceiling high above her. The deep hollow of her back concealed her hands and the steel cuffs locking her wrists together, but offered unhindered access to every other part of her body and gave prominent display to the broad steel collar around her slim neck which proclaimed her slavery to all who cared to look.

      It was not a comfortable position to maintain but the naked brunette knew only too well that her discomfort was of no consequence to her Masters and that she would be punished if she dared to break the pose. Muscle tremors fluttered her taut flesh and she clenched her teeth as her Masters walked slowly around her proffered nudity, checking for the perfection they demanded.

      Below her line of sight, fingers tweaked her left nipple and Gemma gasped, jerking her body backwards and away from the sudden assault.

      Only to squeal in pain as a riding crop slashed down across her thigh, branding her with a stinging red stripe!

      "You will resume the position or earn further punishment, slavegirl," the voice of her Master left no room for negotiation and Gemma forced her body back into position, trembling with horror at the cruelty of her captors.

      "You just don't learn, do you, slavegirl. That's the third stripe you've earned yourself today for trying to evade a Master's touch," a smiling face rose into Gemma's vision and the anguished slave stared pleadingly into the laughing eyes of an elegant blonde woman, some years older than herself.

      It was the afternoon of the third day of Gemma's enslavement to The Consortium, the second on which Roxwell had been joined by the unnamed blonde and Gemma had still to get over her intense shame at being forced to display her naked helplessness. Not that the woman seemed in the least concerned at Gemma's plight. On the contrary, she seemed to revel in the brunette's misery and take enormous pleasure in aiding Roxwell to impose rigid discipline upon her.

      Discipline which Gemma strongly resented and, had, at first, tried to fight against.

      Being an intelligent woman and realising that any show of overt resistance on her part would be ruthlessly crushed, Gemma had fought back in small ways, obeying the orders she was given as slowly as she dared, pretending to misunderstand and then, when finally in the positions ordered, allowing her spine and shoulders to droop so that her body slumped gracelessly instead of being beautifully displayed.

      For a day, it had seemed to have worked and after she was locked in her cell for the night, Gemma had congratulated herself on her cleverness, chuckling to think how easily she had fooled Roxwell who had imagined himself to be her all powerful Master.

      The following morning, however, everything had changed...

      Roxwell strode into her cell and as Gemma went sloppily to her knees and half heartedly took up her submission position, she noted with alarm that he not only had a female companion with him, but that both carried thin, whippy riding crops. Her alarm grew ten fold as Roxwell stared grimly down at her, "Yesterday, slavegirl, I permitted you to defy your Master in order to let you believe that you could retain some control over your life. Today, you will learn the error of your ways!"

      Gemma licked her suddenly dry lips and began to reply, "No, Master, I never meant.....owww!"

      Her brief protest ended in a howl of anguish as two riding crops hissed down and painted a bright red stripe across the fronts of each of her doubled thighs.

      "Silence!" Roxwell thundered, "Slaves do not speak until given permission," and Gemma quailed before his wrath, her lips tightly clenched and her eyes wide with pained shock and a dawning realisation that, perhaps, she had not been quite as clever as she had imagined!

      Roxwell nodded in satisfaction, "Good," he said slowly, "I see you begin to understand now, we will repeat yesterday's exercises, but this time, you will display as the slave you are and you will display perfectly. Both your Mistress and I will be watching and if you fail to satisfy us, slavegirl, you will feel our crops again."

      Gemma stared dumbly from one to the other and an icy lump grew in her belly as she faced what she suspected was going to be a long, long day... and a painful one!

      As it turned out, it was a longer, harder day than even Gemma feared.

      Her Master and Mistress were utterly ruthless, their sharp commands sending Gemma hurrying from one shameful pose to the next, her body stretching and bending this way and that as she struggled to keep up with the unending flow of demands.

      "Straighten your spine!" The order accompanied by a stinging crop across her buttocks.

      "Point your toes!" and pain blossomed on Gemma's right thigh.

      "Head back! Further!" a stripe glowing hotly across her taut belly.

      "No, no, no! Again, slave!" a choking sob as two crops scored her rounded bottom cheeks.

      "Silence, slavegirl!" and two more lines adorned Gemma's nude flanks as she tried to beg for mercy.

      Twisting and turning, but never able to avoid the burning accuracy of her Master's riding crops. Gemma threw herself body and soul into the submissive role demanded of her, all thoughts of resistance driven from her mind by the merciless voices and even more merciless whippings of her Masters. Her body ran with sweat as she displayed herself over and over again and she groaned helplessly as her best efforts were met with yet more cuts from their crops and ever more stringent demands for her to present her nudity to their gaze.

      At one point in her painful education, Gemma froze, earning herself two smarting whip cuts as a deeply embarrassing fact became clear to her. Deep between her thighs, a growing wetness made itself felt. a wetness that Gemma knew was not mere sweat. She was becoming aroused by her torment!

      Her cheeks flushed pinkly as she tried to pretend to herself that it was not happening, but even as she did so, the moist heat began to spread upward into her belly, fuelled by the shameless exhibition of sexuality she was being forced to give, combined with the painful eroticism of being subjected to whipping by two utterly dominant Masters!

      Inch by inch, Gemma slipped further into the rose of slavegirl, her body taking on a sensual grace which appalled her and as she was taken over by the blistering heat of her arousal, her mind gave up the unequal struggle and she writhed and undulated in the most blatantly erotic surrender to the lusts burning within her!

      The change in Gemma did not go unnoticed and her Masters smiled in triumph as every sinuous movement of their victim gave notice, far more clearly than any words, that the woman before them was powerless in the throes of a need far greater than she could control. No less enslaved by her own desires than by the collar on her throat and the steel on her limbs!

      "On your knees, slave," Roxwell's throaty growl sent a wave of deliciously fearful anticipation coursing trhough Gemma's body as she heard the tell tale thickening of lust in his voice. In a less aroused state, she would have been horrified, but her need was so strong that she was unable to deny her physical longings and sank to her knees, thrusting her breasts and belly forward invitingly and arching herself into a graceful bow. Gemma's Mistress stared deep into her eyes, " If you move or make a sound we shall whip you, slave," she warned cruelly and the brunette's eyes widened to a surge of fierce hear in her belly as she clamped her lips together obediently.

      On her knees, staring up at the ceiling, Gemma's nostrils flared as both her Masters sank out of her range of vision, leaving her unable to anticipate their next more, but tremblingly aware that her entire body lay helplessly vulnerable to them.

      Seconds passed, each one an eternity to the trainee slavegirl, until she could not prevent a low moan of need escaping past her lips.

      The sharp bite of a crop on her thigh and the brusque, "You were ordered to be silent," came as no surprise to Gemma and she panted for breath as her flesh burned with smarting heat, knowing that she was being trained and that the cruel delay in giving her what she needed so desperately was all a part of her Master's plan to deepen her enslavement.

      Gemma knew it, but knowing it made no difference to its effectiveness and Gemma's brown eyes filled with unshed tears as she held her pose like the humblest of slaves, awaiting the pleasure of her Masters.

      Her taut body shuddered galvanically and her mouth opened in a silent scream of unbearable passion as lips descended on her breasts and hot, wet tongues licked and sucked at her delicate nipples. Massive jolts of arousal raced through her body and she flung her head from side to side in wide eyed disbelief as her belly seemed to burst into flames, bringing her to the point of orgasm in seconds! Horrified at the speed and depth of her passion, Gemma squealed, "No!" and tried to hurl her body backwards and away from the lips of her Masters, but a strong hand knotted in her hair and held her helpless as the mouths continued their devastating assault.

      Gemma's shrill screams echoed in the cell, but she was powerless and at the very first touch of a hand on the slick wetness of her engorged sex, plunged into a huge climax, her body contorting wildly to the spurting gushes of love juices in her belly as she came and came uncontrollably.

      Roxwell released his grip on her hair and Gemma fell to the floor, curling into a tight, moaning ball as she shuddered in release and her climax raged through her, eyes screwed tightly shut and oblivious to the two Masters who stood over her.

      The woman took a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit one and blew a long stream of menthol flavoured smoke into the air, "Impressive," she chuckled, "This one has the makings of a true slavegirl."

      Roxwell nodded, "I agree, but she still has a great deal to learn," and he reached down with the tip of his riding crop and applied a light flick to Gemma's right hip. After a moment, he gave a second flick, somewhat harder and this time, Gemma flinched and her eyes opened.

      "Up,slavegirl. We have not finished with you yet," and Gemma struggled to her feet and into her display position, mindful of the crop which Roxwell tapped against his leg.

      "Hmm, not bad, slavegirl, but your neck should be arched more," the blonde commented and Gemma blushed angrily as her crop pressed beneath her chin, forcing her head farther back and tightening the slim column of her neck, "Yes, that's much better."

      "Would you care for a drink, Alicia, I fancy one."

      "Mmmm, lovely. Gin and tonic please, with plenty of ice."

      "Right, you'll be alright with her, will you?"

      "Oh, yes, I don't anticipate any trouble from her," and she gave a tinkling laugh as Roxwell turned away.

      "You're not going to give me any trouble, are you, slavegirl, eh? she went on as the door clicked shut behind Roxwell, "Answer me, girl," and her crop flicked lightly at Gemma's belly.

      "No Mistress," Gemma replied immediately, gritting her teeth.

      "Good. Now, tell me, slavegirl, did you enjoy the climax we gave you?

      Involuntarily, Gemma's head came down and she stared, shocked at her questioner.

      "Well, I'm waiting, slavegirl."

      Gemma's face reddened and she whispered, "I...I..Please don't make me say, Mistress, I..I'm ashamed."

      The blonde's face hardened and her lips compressed into a thin, venomous line, "I asked you a question, slave,"she hissed and her blue eyes narrowed menacingly as she lifted her cruel whip.

      There was no mistaking the threat and Gemma dropped her face from the fierce glare, her flush deepening as she capitulated, "I'm sorry, Mistress," she gasped, "Please don't whip me."

      "Then answer the question."

      Gemma sucked in a deep breath, "Yes Mistress," she whispered miserably, "I...I...did, Mistress. I couldn't help myself."

      "Naturally not," the blonde agreed cheerfully, "Slaves are not supposed to be able to help themselves. That's the whole point of enslaving them. If you could control your responses you wouldn't be a slavegirl, would you?"

      The logic, at least from the blonde's point of view, was inescapable and Gemma stared numbly down at the ground, realising that she was trapped by a self fulfilling prophecy. As a slavegirl, in bondage, she was not able to control the responses forced from her, but because she wasn't able to control her responses, she was deemed by the blonde and her friends, to be a slave! Once in the circle, there was no way out and Gemma knew it.

      The blonde smiled happily, mistaking Gemma's stunned silence fro agreement, "There now," she said, "Now you understand why you're a slavegirl. That's much better, isn't it?"

      A thousand protests rose to Gemma's mind, but even as they hovered on her lips, she realised that they would all be just a waste of breath. The sheer conceit and arrogance of views such as the blonde held was simply breathtaking, assuming as they did that some were destined to be Masters and others destined to be slaves! Not only that, but that slaves were slaves because they were too weak to be Masters!

      Gemma couldn't, wouldn't, subscribe to that theory, not ever! It was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong....but, unfortunately for Gemma, her wrists were locked in the steel cuffs of a man who did believe exactly that and she was locked in his cellars and at the mercy of a group of men and women who believed as he did! Which meant that as long as they held those beliefs, and the keys to her bonds, Gemma was going to remain just as she was... a helpless captive, subject to whatever awful desires and torments their fertile minds could dream up for her! For a whole year, until the contract delivering her into their clutches ran its course!

      These frightening thoughts and their horrifying ramifications raced through Gemma's brain in seconds and she gaped in speechless horror at her smiling Mistress as the blonde waited for her to agree that knowing why Gemma had been enslaved, made everything all right!

      "No! No, you're insane! Crazy! You can't keep me like this! You can't!"

      "What's that? Can't keep you? Of course we can keep you. What's going on Alicia?" Roxwell's affronted tone came from behind Gemma and she whirled around to see him standing by the door. The open door!

      "I do believe our little slavegirl if having second thoughts about...Quick! Grab her!"

      Gemma made a break for the open door, pursued by the blonde's warning shout and the two glasses Roxwell had been carrying fell to the floor and shattered as he made an ineffectual attempt to stop her, his hands slipping from her sweaty, slippery body.

      Out in the long featureless corridor, Gemma ran as fast as she could, her cuffed wrists bouncing against her buttocks as she tried to distance herself from the pursuit that was bound to follow. She raced into the lobby where the lift was and gave a cry of elation as she saw that its doors stood invitingly open. She charged inside and then realised that with her hands firmly cuffed behind her back, she couldn't reach the control buttons! Dismayed, Gemma twisted and turned in frenzied efforts to get her fingers to the buttons, her desperation redoubling as she heard footsteps coming down the corridor towards her. Frantic to get away, she bent over, her head down by her knees and her fingers scrabbling wildly at the control panel and gave an inarticulate cry of relief as the top button lit up!

      The doors did not shut!

      Gemma couldn't believe it. The button was pressed, the button lit up, but the lift didn't move!

      Stunned, she stood frozen in incomprehension as the doorway filled with the figures of Roxwell and her Mistress.

      "It didn't work." Gemma explained feebly, "I pressed the button, but it didn't move," and her face crumpled with disappointment.

      Her Masters smiled and Roxwell reached into his pocket and produced a small silver key, "That's right, slavegirl," he confirmed, "Without one of these, it won't. You didn't really think it would be that simple, did you?"

      Gemma shook her head despairingly, "I didn't know...I didn't think..." she mumbled bitterly, then raised her eyes to stare in horror at her Mistress as the woman said, "No, you didn't did you, slavegirl. And now, you are going to have to pay for your error!"

      Gemma's mouth opened, then closed as the blonde snapped, "Not a word, slavegirl. Not one, or the punishment you have already earned yourself will increase! Come on. Out of there."

      As she stumbled out of the lift, Gemma's eyes filled with an awful dread and her stomach began to churn as the enormity of what she had done hit home. She had tried to escape and failed and knew she was in the most terrible trouble!

      Roxwell seized her elbows in a painful grip and Gemma winced not daring to protest as she was marched back along the corridor she had run down with such high hopes only minutes earlier. Her Mistress flung open a door and Roxwell pushed her into a room Gemma had not seen before. Smaller than her own cell, it was completely bare....except for a heavy chain dangling from a pulley in the centre of the ceiling, its other end made fast to an iron cleat bolted to the wall!

      "Stand still, slave. Feet together," Roxwell's tone brooked no argument and Gemma's fears intensified as her ankles were clipped together. Deprived of her ability to move, she stood passively as her wrist cuffs were released, her arms brought together in front of her body and the cuffs refastened.

      "Open your mouth," her Mistress stood in front of her, a thick cylinder of leather on a broad strap in her hands.

      Gemma gulped, her eyes fixed pleadingly on the blonde's face, then slowly allowed her lips to part as she read the steely determination in her captor's face.

      The gag sank deep into Gemma's mouth, then deeper still as she was forced to encompass the whole massive length and girth and she swayed on her bound feet and would have fallen, but for Roxwell's steadying arms as her Mistress tugged the buckling strap cruelly tight.

      Her face covered from nose to chin by the strap and with her cheeks bulging from the thick cylinder, Gemma could barely whimper, let alone speak and panted for breath through her nose as she was silenced.

      The blonde nodded in satisfaction, then reached up and pulled the dangling chain down to Gemma's wrists and clipped it firmly to her cuffs, before standing back with a cruel smile playing about her lips.

      Roxwell released his grip on Gemma and moved to the iron cleat, freeing the chain and then tugging on it and as he tugged, the chain rattled through the pulley high above Gemma and her arms began to rise. Gemma would have like to have fought, but was sensible enough to realise that she could not possibly win. She was bound at hand and foot, alone against two of them and Roxwell was far stronger. Any resistance she could put up would be completely futile and would probably get her punished. Or so Gemma reasoned.

      Her arms rose past her breasts, then past her shoulders, then higher still and Gemma forgot all about her reasoning as the pull continued and her arms stretched high above her head. Her eyes sought frantically for some way to escape and muffled squeals of panic leaked past her gag, but by then it was much too late and her fingers clawed at the chain as she was forced to rise onto the balls of her feet, her body drawn up to its full extent, every muscle tense and even her head trapped between her upraised arms!

      She couldn't move an inch and her eyes bulged with a terrible knowledge as her two Masters moved to stand in front of her and flexed their riding crops before her gag-distorted face.

      "You have been a very silly slavegirl," her Mistress's eyes glittered with excitement as she chided the helpless brunette, "And silly little slaves get themselves punished."

      "Indeed they do," Roxwell agreed cheerfully, "As you are about to find out. You have been disobedient and for that, you will receive six strokes of the crop. For attempting to escape, six more. Plus six more for each of the glasses you caused me to drop. And a final six for failing to remain silent while you were being caressed by your Masters. A total of thirty strokes, slavegirl," he paused and gazed hard into Gemma's terrified face, "Think yourself lucky slave," he hissed, "Had you not been a new and untrained slave, your punishment would have been much more severe."

      Gemma trembled wildly, the smooth flesh of her belly and breasts fluttering as she heard the sentence of her Masters and she squealed muffled pleas into her gag, begging for mercy, promising never to disobey again, to be the slave they wished her to be, anything they desired if only they didn't whip her.

      It made absolutely no impression on the two dominants and tears poured down Gemma's face as they took up their positions, Roxwell behind and her Mistress in front.

      The swish of Roxwell's crop gave Gemma a fraction of a second's warning, but not nearly enough for her to prepare herself and as the first of many stinging red stripes blazed its way across her tensioned buttocks, she screamed into her gag, her bottom erupting with heat. Immediately, her Mistress placed a shrewd cut across the tops of Gemma's thighs and the helpless girl shrieked in torment, her flesh blooming a vivid scarlet. Stretched by her bonds and quite unable to avoid the searing cuts of her Master's crops, Gemma screamed and wept as a mesh of reddened lines painted her thighs and buttocks. Again and again she begged for mercy and to be permitted to submit as their slave, certain that she could take no more of their merciless punishment...and time and again found that she was wrong! Not only could she take more, but she had to, for her Masters had no intention of allowing her to avoid what they considered her just deserts.

      Thirty strokes she had earned and thirty strokes her flinching, burning, striped body received!

      Long before the final stroke landed, the lesson had been well and truly learned by Gemma and she understood all too clearly the rules by which she was to be forced to live and the penalties that disobedience would bring down on her.

      She hung sobbing in her bonds as her Masters lowered their crops for the final time and walked from the room, leaving her to reflect on her errors as the pain of her punishment gradually subsided to a dull throbbing and her tears dried on her face. Still stretched in her bondage, she could not even rub her smarting flesh and her very helplessness reinforced the lesson that she had no choice but to submit. She had made her gesture of defiance and it had led her to this. No way would she ever dare repeat the experiment.

      Hours later, when her Masters returned to release her from her bondage, Gemma fell to the floor, her limbs and joints racked with aches and the tingling of returning circulation, then forced her stiff body to rise as she was cuffed and taken back to her own cell. Exhausted, she fell on the bed and went out like a light, too tired even to examine the fading pink stripes that patterned her buttocks and thighs like latticework.

      "You just don't learn, do you slavegirl. That's the third stripe you've earned yourself today for trying to evade a Master's touch."

      Gemma's training was continuing apace, the task made much easier for her Masters by Gemma's vivid recollection of her punishment of the previous day. Even with that in her mind, Gemma was still having trouble holding position when one of her Masters caressed her breasts or sex and even though they realised her problem, she still received a crop each time she moved. Three so far that day!

      "We'll try that again, slavegirl and this time, don't move! We are beginning to lose patience with you..."

      The implied threat sent a shiver through Gemma's displayed body and she steeled herself for the touch of the blonde's fingers, acutely aware that Roxwell and his crop hovered just behind her, ready to strike if she failed again.

      A soft palm cupped her right breast and cool fingers twirled the nipple, sending delicious tremors racing through her posed nudity and Gemma juddered involuntarily but managed to force herself not to pull back.

      "Better," the woman commented, "Now we will try a little more," and Gemma gasped as both her nipples were captured.

      "Very good, slavegirl. No, keep quite still," and Gemma bit her lip, trying desperately to control the arousal spreading outwards from her hardening nipples...and failing! Slow coils of warmth circled in her belly as the arousal continued and a soft whimper came from her throat as her breasts swelled to the gentle stimulation.

      "Excellent. That will do for now," and Gemma trembled with frustration as the hands were taken from her body.

      Dammit, she thought to herself, it wasn't fair to turn her on like that and not finish the job! Then her face flushed as she realised the implications of her thoughts. Just a few days before she would have been horrified at the idea of a woman, a stranger, caressing her breasts, but now she was angry because she hadn't been made to climax! It was a salutary demonstration of the effectiveness of the training she was being given and she gulped to the realisation that she was becoming the slavegirl she had vowed never to be. The trouble was that she was starting to like it! Not the strict discipline and the punishment, of course, but the frequent stimulation and the increasing responsiveness of her body. Even, though she would never admit it, the bondage and the helplessness it imposed upon her. Tied up and defenceless, she had no control and couldn't be blamed even by herself, if she got carried away by the strength of the passions she was forced to display.

      "Kneel up straight, slavegirl. I want to cuff your ankles."

      Obediently, Gemma straightened and brought her feet together and felt her ankles clipped side by side.

      "Squat on your heels, knees spread. Good."

      Her arms were pulled out behind her and attached to her ankle cuffs, securing her and angling her backwards so that she got an unrestricted view of her own breasts and the wide "V" of her thighs, topped with her curly bush of dark pubic hair.

      "Open your mouth."

      Expecting a normal leather gag, she was taken by surprise when a ring of steel was pressed between her jaws and wedged behind her teeth, its thin strap stretching the corners of her mouth. It held her mouth wide open and though she shook her head, she couldn't dislodge it or close her jaws.

      She didn't understand what it was for...until Roxwell moved to stand in front of her and unzipped his trousers! His erection sprang free, directly on a level with Gemma's face and her face glowed crimson as she realised what he required of her. She had never, ever, pleasured a man in that way, not even Mike and she shook her head resolutely. She absolutely would not do it.

      To her horror, she felt a crop tap her right buttock and twisted her head up and back.

      Her Mistress stared down at her, eyes alight with malicious delight. "Oh yes you will, slavegirl," she chuckled, "One way or the other," and she flexed her riding crop and sent it whistling through the air.

      Roxwell's strong hands gripped Gemma's head as she groaned as her forced her to turn back to face him, the ring behind her teeth holding her mouth in a stretched "O"

      Unable to prevent it, Gemma spluttered as his maleness entered her mouth, his hands clamped around her head and stopping from drawing back. His scent filled her nostrils, a mixture of musk and sweat which was actually not unpleasant, but Gemma was mortified and continued to struggle as best she could.

      "Hhuunnghh!" the muffled cry was torn from Gemma's throat as a cruelly hard cut from her Mistress's crop sent blistering heat spearing into her buttocks. Far worse, though, was Gemma's utter despair as her instinctive lunge forward and away from the pain, forced Roxwell's iron hard erection deeper into her mouth, her soft lips rasping against the coarse curls of his pubic hair and her cheeks bulging shamefully!

      "Now, you will learn how to please a Master with your mouth, slavegirl," Roxwell grated, "Lick and suck me until I come."

      Gemma tried to resist and held out as long as she could, but she was hopelessly bound, her naked buttocks an easy target for her Mistress's whip and, eventually, she was forced to submit.

      Tears running down her cheeks, she complied with Roxwell's demands, her tongue lapping at his embedded shaft, squeezing and sucking him with her lips, her face glowing as red as her whipped bottom.

      Inexpert though she was Gemma's efforts had the desired effect and she shuddered miserably as he grew larger within her mouth until she feared she would choke. Then he came and Gemma felt her mouth and throat fill with hot, salty spend and she gulped and swallowed desperately as his release pulsed and jetted.

      Gemma was absolutely devastated, her humiliation was complete as she heard her Mistress's mocking laughter and knew the blonde had witnessed and enjoyed her shame.

      Roxwell slide from her mouth and Gemma thrust her head down, horrified by what she had been forced to do, but knowing that she could easily be made to repeat her actions if Masters so required.

      To her astonishment, she felt Roxwell lift her head and smile at her, "That was very enjoyable, slavegirl. With practice, you could give exquisite pleasure to your Masters."

      She felt an absurd rush of pride as she heard his compliment, but could not answer him because of her gag and had to be content with nodding her head, blushing as she did so.

      "And not only Masters," he went on, "Mistresses, too, can be pleasured in similar ways, as you will no doubt come to learn."

      Gemma's flush brightened. She had not even considered that.

      From behind her, she heard her Mistress's voice, "Quite right. And learn you will when I have you in my slave quarters, girl. Or else!"

      Gemma surrendered to the inevitable. Twisting around awkwardly, she lifted her face to the elegant blonde who stood over her and nodded her head twice, quite distinctly!

      Her action and the promise of submission it held, brought a great grin of pleasure from the blonde and Gemma felt a hot swirl of desire ripple her belly in anticipation of the time when she would be forced to make good on her promise or suffer the consequences of failure.

CHAPTER 5

      "Again, slavegirl and this time, arch your spine further and hold the pose until you receive permission to move."

      Gemma blinked sweat out of her eyes and bit off the angry retort she longed to make, then stretched her body once more into the graceful but shamefully explicit display of the kneeling position she was being trained to perfect. With her knees spread wide and her big toes just touching behind her, Gemma's body was arched backwards in a sensual curve to display the lovely sweep of her thighs, belly, breasts and neck, her face pointing to the ceiling high above her. The deep hollow of her back concealed her hands and the steel cuffs locking her wrists together, but offered unhindered access to every other part of her body and gave prominent display to the broad steel collar around her slim neck which proclaimed her slavery to all who cared to look.

      It was not a comfortable position to maintain but the naked brunette knew only too well that her discomfort was of no consequence to her Masters and that she would be punished if she dared to break the pose. Muscle tremors fluttered her taut flesh and she clenched her teeth as her Masters walked slowly around her proffered nudity, checking for the perfection they demanded.

      Below her line of sight, fingers tweaked her left nipple and Gemma gasped, jerking her body backwards and away from the sudden assault.

      Only to squeal in pain as a riding crop slashed down across her thigh, branding her with a stinging red stripe!

      "You will resume the position or earn further punishment, slavegirl," the voice of her Master left no room for negotiation and Gemma forced her body back into position, trembling with horror at the cruelty of her captors.

      "You just don't learn, do you, slavegirl. That's the third stripe you've earned yourself today for trying to evade a Master's touch," a smiling face rose into Gemma's vision and the anguished slave stared pleadingly into the laughing eyes of an elegant blonde woman, some years older than herself.

      It was the afternoon of the third day of Gemma's enslavement to The Consortium, the second on which Roxwell had been joined by the unnamed blonde and Gemma had still to get over her intense shame at being forced to display her naked helplessness. Not that the woman seemed in the least concerned at Gemma's plight. On the contrary, she seemed to revel in the brunette's misery and take enormous pleasure in aiding Roxwell to impose rigid discipline upon her.

      Discipline which Gemma strongly resented and, had, at first, tried to fight against.

      Being an intelligent woman and realising that any show of overt resistance on her part would be ruthlessly crushed, Gemma had fought back in small ways, obeying the orders she was given as slowly as she dared, pretending to misunderstand and then, when finally in the positions ordered, allowing her spine and shoulders to droop so that her body slumped gracelessly instead of being beautifully displayed.

      For a day, it had seemed to have worked and after she was locked in her cell for the night, Gemma had congratulated herself on her cleverness, chuckling to think how easily she had fooled Roxwell who had imagined himself to be her all powerful Master.

      The following morning, however, everything had changed...

      Roxwell strode into her cell and as Gemma went sloppily to her knees and half heartedly took up her submission position, she noted with alarm that he not only had a female companion with him, but that both carried thin, whippy riding crops. Her alarm grew ten fold as Roxwell stared grimly down at her, "Yesterday, slavegirl, I permitted you to defy your Master in order to let you believe that you could retain some control over your life. Today, you will learn the error of your ways!"

      Gemma licked her suddenly dry lips and began to reply, "No, Master, I never meant.....owww!"

      Her brief protest ended in a howl of anguish as two riding crops hissed down and painted a bright red stripe across the fronts of each of her doubled thighs.

      "Silence!" Roxwell thundered, "Slaves do not speak until given permission," and Gemma quailed before his wrath, her lips tightly clenched and her eyes wide with pained shock and a dawning realisation that, perhaps, she had not been quite as clever as she had imagined!

      Roxwell nodded in satisfaction, "Good," he said slowly, "I see you begin to understand now, we will repeat yesterday's exercises, but this time, you will display as the slave you are and you will display perfectly. Both your Mistress and I will be watching and if you fail to satisfy us, slavegirl, you will feel our crops again."

      Gemma stared dumbly from one to the other and an icy lump grew in her belly as she faced what she suspected was going to be a long, long day... and a painful one!

      As it turned out, it was a longer, harder day than even Gemma feared.

      Her Master and Mistress were utterly ruthless, their sharp commands sending Gemma hurrying from one shameful pose to the next, her body stretching and bending this way and that as she struggled to keep up with the unending flow of demands.

      "Straighten your spine!" The order accompanied by a stinging crop across her buttocks.

      "Point your toes!" and pain blossomed on Gemma's right thigh.

      "Head back! Further!" a stripe glowing hotly across her taut belly.

      "No, no, no! Again, slave!" a choking sob as two crops scored her rounded bottom cheeks.

      "Silence, slavegirl!" and two more lines adorned Gemma's nude flanks as she tried to beg for mercy.

      Twisting and turning, but never able to avoid the burning accuracy of her Master's riding crops. Gemma threw herself body and soul into the submissive role demanded of her, all thoughts of resistance driven from her mind by the merciless voices and even more merciless whippings of her Masters. Her body ran with sweat as she displayed herself over and over again and she groaned helplessly as her best efforts were met with yet more cuts from their crops and ever more stringent demands for her to present her nudity to their gaze.

      At one point in her painful education, Gemma froze, earning herself two smarting whip cuts as a deeply embarrassing fact became clear to her. Deep between her thighs, a growing wetness made itself felt. a wetness that Gemma knew was not mere sweat. She was becoming aroused by her torment!

      Her cheeks flushed pinkly as she tried to pretend to herself that it was not happening, but even as she did so, the moist heat began to spread upward into her belly, fuelled by the shameless exhibition of sexuality she was being forced to give, combined with the painful eroticism of being subjected to whipping by two utterly dominant Masters!

      Inch by inch, Gemma slipped further into the rose of slavegirl, her body taking on a sensual grace which appalled her and as she was taken over by the blistering heat of her arousal, her mind gave up the unequal struggle and she writhed and undulated in the most blatantly erotic surrender to the lusts burning within her!

      The change in Gemma did not go unnoticed and her Masters smiled in triumph as every sinuous movement of their victim gave notice, far more clearly than any words, that the woman before them was powerless in the throes of a need far greater than she could control. No less enslaved by her own desires than by the collar on her throat and the steel on her limbs!

      "On your knees, slave," Roxwell's throaty growl sent a wave of deliciously fearful anticipation coursing trhough Gemma's body as she heard the tell tale thickening of lust in his voice. In a less aroused state, she would have been horrified, but her need was so strong that she was unable to deny her physical longings and sank to her knees, thrusting her breasts and belly forward invitingly and arching herself into a graceful bow. Gemma's Mistress stared deep into her eyes, " If you move or make a sound we shall whip you, slave," she warned cruelly and the brunette's eyes widened to a surge of fierce hear in her belly as she clamped her lips together obediently.

      On her knees, staring up at the ceiling, Gemma's nostrils flared as both her Masters sank out of her range of vision, leaving her unable to anticipate their next more, but tremblingly aware that her entire body lay helplessly vulnerable to them.

      Seconds passed, each one an eternity to the trainee slavegirl, until she could not prevent a low moan of need escaping past her lips.

      The sharp bite of a crop on her thigh and the brusque, "You were ordered to be silent," came as no surprise to Gemma and she panted for breath as her flesh burned with smarting heat, knowing that she was being trained and that the cruel delay in giving her what she needed so desperately was all a part of her Master's plan to deepen her enslavement.

      Gemma knew it, but knowing it made no difference to its effectiveness and Gemma's brown eyes filled with unshed tears as she held her pose like the humblest of slaves, awaiting the pleasure of her Masters.

      Her taut body shuddered galvanically and her mouth opened in a silent scream of unbearable passion as lips descended on her breasts and hot, wet tongues licked and sucked at her delicate nipples. Massive jolts of arousal raced through her body and she flung her head from side to side in wide eyed disbelief as her belly seemed to burst into flames, bringing her to the point of orgasm in seconds! Horrified at the speed and depth of her passion, Gemma squealed, "No!" and tried to hurl her body backwards and away from the lips of her Masters, but a strong hand knotted in her hair and held her helpless as the mouths continued their devastating assault.

      Gemma's shrill screams echoed in the cell, but she was powerless and at the very first touch of a hand on the slick wetness of her engorged sex, plunged into a huge climax, her body contorting wildly to the spurting gushes of love juices in her belly as she came and came uncontrollably.

      Roxwell released his grip on her hair and Gemma fell to the floor, curling into a tight, moaning ball as she shuddered in release and her climax raged through her, eyes screwed tightly shut and oblivious to the two Masters who stood over her.

      The woman took a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit one and blew a long stream of menthol flavoured smoke into the air, "Impressive," she chuckled, "This one has the makings of a true slavegirl."

      Roxwell nodded, "I agree, but she still has a great deal to learn," and he reached down with the tip of his riding crop and applied a light flick to Gemma's right hip. After a moment, he gave a second flick, somewhat harder and this time, Gemma flinched and her eyes opened.

      "Up,slavegirl. We have not finished with you yet," and Gemma struggled to her feet and into her display position, mindful of the crop which Roxwell tapped against his leg.

      "Hmm, not bad, slavegirl, but your neck should be arched more," the blonde commented and Gemma blushed angrily as her crop pressed beneath her chin, forcing her head farther back and tightening the slim column of her neck, "Yes, that's much better."

      "Would you care for a drink, Alicia, I fancy one."

      "Mmmm, lovely. Gin and tonic please, with plenty of ice."

      "Right, you'll be alright with her, will you?"

      "Oh, yes, I don't anticipate any trouble from her," and she gave a tinkling laugh as Roxwell turned away.

      "You're not going to give me any trouble, are you, slavegirl, eh? she went on as the door clicked shut behind Roxwell, "Answer me, girl," and her crop flicked lightly at Gemma's belly.

      "No Mistress," Gemma replied immediately, gritting her teeth.

      "Good. Now, tell me, slavegirl, did you enjoy the climax we gave you?

      Involuntarily, Gemma's head came down and she stared, shocked at her questioner.

      "Well, I'm waiting, slavegirl."

      Gemma's face reddened and she whispered, "I...I..Please don't make me say, Mistress, I..I'm ashamed."

      The blonde's face hardened and her lips compressed into a thin, venomous line, "I asked you a question, slave,"she hissed and her blue eyes narrowed menacingly as she lifted her cruel whip.

      There was no mistaking the threat and Gemma dropped her face from the fierce glare, her flush deepening as she capitulated, "I'm sorry, Mistress," she gasped, "Please don't whip me."

      "Then answer the question."

      Gemma sucked in a deep breath, "Yes Mistress," she whispered miserably, "I...I...did, Mistress. I couldn't help myself."

      "Naturally not," the blonde agreed cheerfully, "Slaves are not supposed to be able to help themselves. That's the whole point of enslaving them. If you could control your responses you wouldn't be a slavegirl, would you?"

      The logic, at least from the blonde's point of view, was inescapable and Gemma stared numbly down at the ground, realising that she was trapped by a self fulfilling prophecy. As a slavegirl, in bondage, she was not able to control the responses forced from her, but because she wasn't able to control her responses, she was deemed by the blonde and her friends, to be a slave! Once in the circle, there was no way out and Gemma knew it.

      The blonde smiled happily, mistaking Gemma's stunned silence fro agreement, "There now," she said, "Now you understand why you're a slavegirl. That's much better, isn't it?"

      A thousand protests rose to Gemma's mind, but even as they hovered on her lips, she realised that they would all be just a waste of breath. The sheer conceit and arrogance of views such as the blonde held was simply breathtaking, assuming as they did that some were destined to be Masters and others destined to be slaves! Not only that, but that slaves were slaves because they were too weak to be Masters!

      Gemma couldn't, wouldn't, subscribe to that theory, not ever! It was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong....but, unfortunately for Gemma, her wrists were locked in the steel cuffs of a man who did believe exactly that and she was locked in his cellars and at the mercy of a group of men and women who believed as he did! Which meant that as long as they held those beliefs, and the keys to her bonds, Gemma was going to remain just as she was... a helpless captive, subject to whatever awful desires and torments their fertile minds could dream up for her! For a whole year, until the contract delivering her into their clutches ran its course!

      These frightening thoughts and their horrifying ramifications raced through Gemma's brain in seconds and she gaped in speechless horror at her smiling Mistress as the blonde waited for her to agree that knowing why Gemma had been enslaved, made everything all right!

      "No! No, you're insane! Crazy! You can't keep me like this! You can't!"

      "What's that? Can't keep you? Of course we can keep you. What's going on Alicia?" Roxwell's affronted tone came from behind Gemma and she whirled around to see him standing by the door. The open door!

      "I do believe our little slavegirl if having second thoughts about...Quick! Grab her!"

      Gemma made a break for the open door, pursued by the blonde's warning shout and the two glasses Roxwell had been carrying fell to the floor and shattered as he made an ineffectual attempt to stop her, his hands slipping from her sweaty, slippery body.

      Out in the long featureless corridor, Gemma ran as fast as she could, her cuffed wrists bouncing against her buttocks as she tried to distance herself from the pursuit that was bound to follow. She raced into the lobby where the lift was and gave a cry of elation as she saw that its doors stood invitingly open. She charged inside and then realised that with her hands firmly cuffed behind her back, she couldn't reach the control buttons! Dismayed, Gemma twisted and turned in frenzied efforts to get her fingers to the buttons, her desperation redoubling as she heard footsteps coming down the corridor towards her. Frantic to get away, she bent over, her head down by her knees and her fingers scrabbling wildly at the control panel and gave an inarticulate cry of relief as the top button lit up!

      The doors did not shut!

      Gemma couldn't believe it. The button was pressed, the button lit up, but the lift didn't move!

      Stunned, she stood frozen in incomprehension as the doorway filled with the figures of Roxwell and her Mistress.

      "It didn't work." Gemma explained feebly, "I pressed the button, but it didn't move," and her face crumpled with disappointment.

      Her Masters smiled and Roxwell reached into his pocket and produced a small silver key, "That's right, slavegirl," he confirmed, "Without one of these, it won't. You didn't really think it would be that simple, did you?"

      Gemma shook her head despairingly, "I didn't know...I didn't think..." she mumbled bitterly, then raised her eyes to stare in horror at her Mistress as the woman said, "No, you didn't did you, slavegirl. And now, you are going to have to pay for your error!"

      Gemma's mouth opened, then closed as the blonde snapped, "Not a word, slavegirl. Not one, or the punishment you have already earned yourself will increase! Come on. Out of there."

      As she stumbled out of the lift, Gemma's eyes filled with an awful dread and her stomach began to churn as the enormity of what she had done hit home. She had tried to escape and failed and knew she was in the most terrible trouble!

      Roxwell seized her elbows in a painful grip and Gemma winced not daring to protest as she was marched back along the corridor she had run down with such high hopes only minutes earlier. Her Mistress flung open a door and Roxwell pushed her into a room Gemma had not seen before. Smaller than her own cell, it was completely bare....except for a heavy chain dangling from a pulley in the centre of the ceiling, its other end made fast to an iron cleat bolted to the wall!

      "Stand still, slave. Feet together," Roxwell's tone brooked no argument and Gemma's fears intensified as her ankles were clipped together. Deprived of her ability to move, she stood passively as her wrist cuffs were released, her arms brought together in front of her body and the cuffs refastened.

      "Open your mouth," her Mistress stood in front of her, a thick cylinder of leather on a broad strap in her hands.

      Gemma gulped, her eyes fixed pleadingly on the blonde's face, then slowly allowed her lips to part as she read the steely determination in her captor's face.

      The gag sank deep into Gemma's mouth, then deeper still as she was forced to encompass the whole massive length and girth and she swayed on her bound feet and would have fallen, but for Roxwell's steadying arms as her Mistress tugged the buckling strap cruelly tight.

      Her face covered from nose to chin by the strap and with her cheeks bulging from the thick cylinder, Gemma could barely whimper, let alone speak and panted for breath through her nose as she was silenced.

      The blonde nodded in satisfaction, then reached up and pulled the dangling chain down to Gemma's wrists and clipped it firmly to her cuffs, before standing back with a cruel smile playing about her lips.

      Roxwell released his grip on Gemma and moved to the iron cleat, freeing the chain and then tugging on it and as he tugged, the chain rattled through the pulley high above Gemma and her arms began to rise. Gemma would have like to have fought, but was sensible enough to realise that she could not possibly win. She was bound at hand and foot, alone against two of them and Roxwell was far stronger. Any resistance she could put up would be completely futile and would probably get her punished. Or so Gemma reasoned.

      Her arms rose past her breasts, then past her shoulders, then higher still and Gemma forgot all about her reasoning as the pull continued and her arms stretched high above her head. Her eyes sought frantically for some way to escape and muffled squeals of panic leaked past her gag, but by then it was much too late and her fingers clawed at the chain as she was forced to rise onto the balls of her feet, her body drawn up to its full extent, every muscle tense and even her head trapped between her upraised arms!

      She couldn't move an inch and her eyes bulged with a terrible knowledge as her two Masters moved to stand in front of her and flexed their riding crops before her gag-distorted face.

      "You have been a very silly slavegirl," her Mistress's eyes glittered with excitement as she chided the helpless brunette, "And silly little slaves get themselves punished."

      "Indeed they do," Roxwell agreed cheerfully, "As you are about to find out. You have been disobedient and for that, you will receive six strokes of the crop. For attempting to escape, six more. Plus six more for each of the glasses you caused me to drop. And a final six for failing to remain silent while you were being caressed by your Masters. A total of thirty strokes, slavegirl," he paused and gazed hard into Gemma's terrified face, "Think yourself lucky slave," he hissed, "Had you not been a new and untrained slave, your punishment would have been much more severe."

      Gemma trembled wildly, the smooth flesh of her belly and breasts fluttering as she heard the sentence of her Masters and she squealed muffled pleas into her gag, begging for mercy, promising never to disobey again, to be the slave they wished her to be, anything they desired if only they didn't whip her.

      It made absolutely no impression on the two dominants and tears poured down Gemma's face as they took up their positions, Roxwell behind and her Mistress in front.

      The swish of Roxwell's crop gave Gemma a fraction of a second's warning, but not nearly enough for her to prepare herself and as the first of many stinging red stripes blazed its way across her tensioned buttocks, she screamed into her gag, her bottom erupting with heat. Immediately, her Mistress placed a shrewd cut across the tops of Gemma's thighs and the helpless girl shrieked in torment, her flesh blooming a vivid scarlet. Stretched by her bonds and quite unable to avoid the searing cuts of her Master's crops, Gemma screamed and wept as a mesh of reddened lines painted her thighs and buttocks. Again and again she begged for mercy and to be permitted to submit as their slave, certain that she could take no more of their merciless punishment...and time and again found that she was wrong! Not only could she take more, but she had to, for her Masters had no intention of allowing her to avoid what they considered her just deserts.

      Thirty strokes she had earned and thirty strokes her flinching, burning, striped body received!

      Long before the final stroke landed, the lesson had been well and truly learned by Gemma and she understood all too clearly the rules by which she was to be forced to live and the penalties that disobedience would bring down on her.

      She hung sobbing in her bonds as her Masters lowered their crops for the final time and walked from the room, leaving her to reflect on her errors as the pain of her punishment gradually subsided to a dull throbbing and her tears dried on her face. Still stretched in her bondage, she could not even rub her smarting flesh and her very helplessness reinforced the lesson that she had no choice but to submit. She had made her gesture of defiance and it had led her to this. No way would she ever dare repeat the experiment.

      Hours later, when her Masters returned to release her from her bondage, Gemma fell to the floor, her limbs and joints racked with aches and the tingling of returning circulation, then forced her stiff body to rise as she was cuffed and taken back to her own cell. Exhausted, she fell on the bed and went out like a light, too tired even to examine the fading pink stripes that patterned her buttocks and thighs like latticework.

      "You just don't learn, do you slavegirl. That's the third stripe you've earned yourself today for trying to evade a Master's touch."

      Gemma's training was continuing apace, the task made much easier for her Masters by Gemma's vivid recollection of her punishment of the previous day. Even with that in her mind, Gemma was still having trouble holding position when one of her Masters caressed her breasts or sex and even though they realised her problem, she still received a crop each time she moved. Three so far that day!

      "We'll try that again, slavegirl and this time, don't move! We are beginning to lose patience with you..."

      The implied threat sent a shiver through Gemma's displayed body and she steeled herself for the touch of the blonde's fingers, acutely aware that Roxwell and his crop hovered just behind her, ready to strike if she failed again.

      A soft palm cupped her right breast and cool fingers twirled the nipple, sending delicious tremors racing through her posed nudity and Gemma juddered involuntarily but managed to force herself not to pull back.

      "Better," the woman commented, "Now we will try a little more," and Gemma gasped as both her nipples were captured.

      "Very good, slavegirl. No, keep quite still," and Gemma bit her lip, trying desperately to control the arousal spreading outwards from her hardening nipples...and failing! Slow coils of warmth circled in her belly as the arousal continued and a soft whimper came from her throat as her breasts swelled to the gentle stimulation.

      "Excellent. That will do for now," and Gemma trembled with frustration as the hands were taken from her body.

      Dammit, she thought to herself, it wasn't fair to turn her on like that and not finish the job! Then her face flushed as she realised the implications of her thoughts. Just a few days before she would have been horrified at the idea of a woman, a stranger, caressing her breasts, but now she was angry because she hadn't been made to climax! It was a salutary demonstration of the effectiveness of the training she was being given and she gulped to the realisation that she was becoming the slavegirl she had vowed never to be. The trouble was that she was starting to like it! Not the strict discipline and the punishment, of course, but the frequent stimulation and the increasing responsiveness of her body. Even, though she would never admit it, the bondage and the helplessness it imposed upon her. Tied up and defenceless, she had no control and couldn't be blamed even by herself, if she got carried away by the strength of the passions she was forced to display.

      "Kneel up straight, slavegirl. I want to cuff your ankles."

      Obediently, Gemma straightened and brought her feet together and felt her ankles clipped side by side.

      "Squat on your heels, knees spread. Good."

      Her arms were pulled out behind her and attached to her ankle cuffs, securing her and angling her backwards so that she got an unrestricted view of her own breasts and the wide "V" of her thighs, topped with her curly bush of dark pubic hair.

      "Open your mouth."

      Expecting a normal leather gag, she was taken by surprise when a ring of steel was pressed between her jaws and wedged behind her teeth, its thin strap stretching the corners of her mouth. It held her mouth wide open and though she shook her head, she couldn't dislodge it or close her jaws.

      She didn't understand what it was for...until Roxwell moved to stand in front of her and unzipped his trousers! His erection sprang free, directly on a level with Gemma's face and her face glowed crimson as she realised what he required of her. She had never, ever, pleasured a man in that way, not even Mike and she shook her head resolutely. She absolutely would not do it.

      To her horror, she felt a crop tap her right buttock and twisted her head up and back.

      Her Mistress stared down at her, eyes alight with malicious delight. "Oh yes you will, slavegirl," she chuckled, "One way or the other," and she flexed her riding crop and sent it whistling through the air.

      Roxwell's strong hands gripped Gemma's head as she groaned as her forced her to turn back to face him, the ring behind her teeth holding her mouth in a stretched "O"

      Unable to prevent it, Gemma spluttered as his maleness entered her mouth, his hands clamped around her head and stopping from drawing back. His scent filled her nostrils, a mixture of musk and sweat which was actually not unpleasant, but Gemma was mortified and continued to struggle as best she could.

      "Hhuunnghh!" the muffled cry was torn from Gemma's throat as a cruelly hard cut from her Mistress's crop sent blistering heat spearing into her buttocks. Far worse, though, was Gemma's utter despair as her instinctive lunge forward and away from the pain, forced Roxwell's iron hard erection deeper into her mouth, her soft lips rasping against the coarse curls of his pubic hair and her cheeks bulging shamefully!

      "Now, you will learn how to please a Master with your mouth, slavegirl," Roxwell grated, "Lick and suck me until I come."

      Gemma tried to resist and held out as long as she could, but she was hopelessly bound, her naked buttocks an easy target for her Mistress's whip and, eventually, she was forced to submit.

      Tears running down her cheeks, she complied with Roxwell's demands, her tongue lapping at his embedded shaft, squeezing and sucking him with her lips, her face glowing as red as her whipped bottom.

      Inexpert though she was Gemma's efforts had the desired effect and she shuddered miserably as he grew larger within her mouth until she feared she would choke. Then he came and Gemma felt her mouth and throat fill with hot, salty spend and she gulped and swallowed desperately as his release pulsed and jetted.

      Gemma was absolutely devastated, her humiliation was complete as she heard her Mistress's mocking laughter and knew the blonde had witnessed and enjoyed her shame.

      Roxwell slide from her mouth and Gemma thrust her head down, horrified by what she had been forced to do, but knowing that she could easily be made to repeat her actions if Masters so required.

      To her astonishment, she felt Roxwell lift her head and smile at her, "That was very enjoyable, slavegirl. With practice, you could give exquisite pleasure to your Masters."

      She felt an absurd rush of pride as she heard his compliment, but could not answer him because of her gag and had to be content with nodding her head, blushing as she did so.

      "And not only Masters," he went on, "Mistresses, too, can be pleasured in similar ways, as you will no doubt come to learn."

      Gemma's flush brightened. She had not even considered that.

      From behind her, she heard her Mistress's voice, "Quite right. And learn you will when I have you in my slave quarters, girl. Or else!"

      Gemma surrendered to the inevitable. Twisting around awkwardly, she lifted her face to the elegant blonde who stood over her and nodded her head twice, quite distinctly!

      Her action and the promise of submission it held, brought a great grin of pleasure from the blonde and Gemma felt a hot swirl of desire ripple her belly in anticipation of the time when she would be forced to make good on her promise or suffer the consequences of failure.

CHAPTER 6

Warm summer sunshine smiled benevolently down upon Gemma's naked body, its rays playing across the curves and hollows of her legs and back as she soaked up the afternoon heat. She rolled over and sat up, then stretched luxuriously, her breasts tautening as her arms reached skywards, the steel rings at her wrists, ankles and neck glittering and twinkling as she moved. A gentle clinking of chain drew her eyes down to her left ankle and she gave a little sigh of resignation as she saw the padlock and traced the looped chain across the smooth tiles of the pool side patio to its anchor point, a thick steel ring set under a tile in the patio near the steps down to the pool. A wry smile curved her lips. She hadn't really expected to find herself miraculously freed from her bondage, but a girl could always hope.

      She guessed it must be about three weeks since Roxwell had had her brought to his house, but she couldn't really be sure. There was no way to tell the passage of time in his underground slave quarters, but she had been trained for about a week, then a few days with Roxwell and her Mistress and this was about the fourth or fifth day she had been brought out to sunbathe, so her guess had to be about right. Not that it made any difference to her situation, Gemma realised, it was just nice to know.

      She wiped a thin film of perspiration off her brow and eyed the pool. The water looked blue and cool and inviting and she rose to her feet, unaware that the fluid gracefulness of her movements and the sensual undulation of her naked hips and bottom as she walked to the steps were a tribute to the strict training she had received.

      Unknown to Gemma as she lowered herself into the pool and began to splash water over her breasts and belly, eyes watched her from inside the house. Eyes that gleamed with pleasure and anticipation as water cascaded in glistening rivulets from her lightly tanned flesh.

      Several days before, as Gemma stood posed and motionless, her body beautifully displayed before him, Roxwell had commented, "You look pale, slavegirl. What you need is some sun."

      Minutes later, her wrists snugly cuffed behind her back, Gemma had gulped nervously as her ankles were hobbled with a foot or so of chain and she was ordered from her cell. Along the corridor and into the lift she shuffled, her steps uncomfortably restricted by her hobble chain and acutely aware that Roxwell was behind her and ready to pounce if she even thought about trying to escape. Not that she would dare, after her last failed attempt, even if she were not so thoroughly handicapped.

      When the lift stopped, she shuffled laboriously along yet another long corridor, then waited passively as he unlocked a heavy door.

      Sunlight flooded in and Gemma licked her dry lips as she realised that she was going to be taken outside. Outside, but still in her bonds...and stark naked! She turned to Roxwell, a plea forming on her lips, but it died unspoken as she saw the riding crop in his strong hands. He gestured with the whippy crop and Gemma knew that she had no choice but to obey.

      She moved forward, hobble chain clinking and as her eyes adjusted to the sun's glare, felt a huge wave of relief flood through her body. In front of the wide tiled patio on which she stood, lay a large, kidney shaped swimming pool, its blue water reflecting the cloudless sky. Beyond that, a manicured green lawn stretched away for a hundred yards or more, dotted with clumps of shady trees and bushes. Best of all though, and the cause of Gemma's relief was the high brick wall surrounding the entire garden and conferring complete privacy.

      "Over there," Roxwell nudged her arm, pointing and Gemma made her hobbled way across the tiles and towards the pool, her spirits rising in the warm sunshine as her surreptitious glances confirmed that the garden was empty apart from herself and Roxwell.

      "Stand still," the order brought Gemma to a halt and she immediately spread her legs as far as her hobble would permit, her spine hollowing as she thrust her shoulders back to display her body in the prescribed manner, well aware that a failure to do so would lead, inevitably, to a stinging cut from his crop.

      Roxwell chuckled, but made no other comment on her obedience and Gemma flushed as he ignored her and bent to a particular tile, identical to all the others in the patio apart from a tine circular opening in one corner. He inserted a square metal handle into the opening and gave it a half turn and to Gemma's surprise, the tile hinged upwards.

      "This is a standard fitment in each of your Masters' homes," he told her smilingly and to the brunette's complete astonishment, pulled out from the hole under the tile a length of steel chain with a padlock already clipped to the end.

      "It helps to ensure that slavegirls don't stray," he added and slipped the hasp of the padlock through the ring on Gemma's left ankle cuff and snapped it shut.

      "There now. Now need for this any more," and he unclipped the hobble chain, then reached up and released her wrists.

      Freed from her bonds, but still securely tethered by the chain to her ankle, Gemma's eyes opened wide as he produced a bottle of sun tan oil from his pocket.

"Hold still, girl," he told her calmly. "Don't want you getting burned now do we," and a quiver of arousal rippled through Gemma as he poured oil into his cupped palm and coated his fingers with the slippery liquid.

      He began with her shoulders and back and she could not control the tremors which raced up and down her spine as his strong hands moved over her flesh, sliding easily as he coated her with a thin film of oil. The sensation was undeniably erotic and as his fingers slid lower, to the rounded swells of her buttocks, Gemma bit her lip, her eyes closing as the firm kneading of her bottom cheeks kindled a fierce heat in her belly and between her spread thighs. The oiling of the soft under curves of her buttocks and the backs of her legs did nothing to reduce the feelings and as he moved around in front of her and poured more oil into his palm, her eyes sprang open and she gulped nervously understanding that he was not going to be content with oiling only her back. Knowing too, that she would never be able to contain the roiling heat in her belly when his oil slippery fingers slid over her breasts and between her legs.

      "M...Master," she quavered, "I...I c..can't. If you...If you t..touch me, I...I'll come," and her face burned with embarrassed need as she confessed to her shameful, but quite irresistible desire.

      Roxwell gave a wolfish smile, but his eyes bored into hers with steely determination, "Yes," he agreed coolly, "I know. Just as I intend that you should, slavegirl," and his hands reached for her.

      Instinctively, Gemma took a pace backwards, her arms going to cover her breasts and groin in a reflex defensive action as his arrogant words sent her brain reeling.

      His face darkened and Gemma froze as he hissed, "One more step, slavegirl, just one more step or one more word and I'll teach you not to disobey your Master! Now get back here exactly as you were, or you'll regret it!" and he snatched up his crop and sent it whistling through the air.

      Somehow, in less than a second and with no conscious decision on her part, Gemma found herself back in position, her body perfectly displayed, her face filled with shocked anguish at her own weakness and instant surrender.

      Roxwell brandished his crop, "That's better. Now, keep still, unless you want me to crop you!"

      Gemma most certainly didn't and forced herself to remain absolutely still as he watched her intently for the smallest sign of disobedience.

      At last, he nodded brusquely and laid down his crop, but only to oil his hands and reach for Gemma once again.

      His fingers caressed her neck then slid lower, moving in slowly expanding circles to the smooth upper slopes of her small, firm breasts and Gemma's hands clenched at her sides as the delicious torment sensitised her flesh. Her breathing grew fast and erratic as his fingers slipped beneath her breasts, cupping the pale orbs and her eyes filled with helpless longing as Roxwell toyed with her, his fingers approaching, but never quite touching, the twin, tawny buds of her nipples.

      Denied the touch and the pleasure she craved, Gemma fought to remain still, her lips pressed tightly together to contain the frustrations she was made to endure as he exerted his power and authority over her, proving to her yet again that he was the Master and she only the obedient and submissive slavegirl.

      Gemma's belly fluttered wildly and an explosive grunt was forced from her nose as his hands tracked across the rounded plain of her stomach, oiling her and adding to her arousal at the same time as his fingers inched towards the spread entrance of her moistening sex. Despite her best efforts, she could not control the flaring heat his touch generated and her body began to bend forward from the waist as she gave in to the lusts coiling in her belly.

      Roxwell looked up, "You are a slavegirl being taught discipline," he told her evenly, "Resume your position and do not break it again."

      He did not need to elaborate on the consequences of disobedience and Gemma gave a muffled whimper of despair and intense desire as she fought to overcome her own needs and obey his command.

      Her arousal, already burning at fever pitch, burned hotter still as he reinforced his dominance and her subjugation by oiling her ribs and hips and thighs without ever once allowing his fingers to stray to the wet and seething core of her femininity, until Gemma's whole body quivered and shuddered helplessly to every cruelly gentle caress of her heated flesh.

      Under his ruthless discipline, knowing that she would be severely punished if she dared to move or speak. Gemma surrendered unconditionally to the storm of passion wreaking havoc in her over stimulated body, abdicating all control over her responses to the powerful Master who brought such wonderful, terrible ecstasy to her. She could not, dared not and did not wish to resist and as her brain gave up the unequal struggle, Gemma melted into a limbo of sheer physical rapture, her whole being given over to the joys of a submission she was forced to accept and embrace without reserve.

      Well used to the subjugation of sometimes recalcitrant females, Roxwell noted the change in Gemma and timed his order to perfection.

      "On your back, slave," he snapped, "Display position!"

      Lost in the depths of her passion, Gemma obeyed instantly, too far gone to even think of refusing. Throwing herself to the tiles, her hands clasped tightly beneath her arched spine, she drew her legs up and pressed the soles of her feet together, opening herself widely and offering her every curve and recess to the scrutiny of her Master!

      The eroticism of the pose and the all too obvious message of her submission that it signalled, sent Gemma's arousal another notch higher and she trembled in delicious fear of her own vulnerability and the certain knowledge that she had, by her action, delivered herself even deeper into the clutches of her Master. A Master who would not waste the opportunity!

      Roxwell stared down into her anxious face, "You have done well, slave and now you shall have your reward," and Gemma's body gave a convulsive jolt as he poured oil onto his palm and knelt beside her.

      His hands went to her upthrust breasts and Gemma squealed shrilly as his oil slick fingers captured her nipples, rubbing, squeezing and rolling the crinkled buds until they sprang erect, throbbing as if imbued with a life of their own and sending electric waves of arousal rippling outwards from their rigid peaks and down into her belly to add to the maelstrom churning deep inside her as she built inexorably towards a shattering climax.

      "Mmmmhh! Hhhmmmff! Fffmmffhh!" Gemma's moans from her nose built in volume and intensity as she raced towards her release and her body vibrated beneath Roxwell's hands as his skilled arousal overwhelmed her.

      She could not hold back even for a moment as his left hand dived to her groin, his extended fingers driving deep into the hot, wet depths of her copiously lubricated sex and triggering an instant and mind numbingly powerful orgasm!

      Gemma's wild scream of ecstatic surrender rent the still air and her body arched up in a taut, straining bow, every muscle locked and her belly pulsing hugely as giant contractions sent floods of heated love juices spraying into her sex and over his deeply buried fingers as she came and came in uncontrollable spasms. Her eyes wide and staring, fixed on Roxwell's and he chuckled with pleasure and triumph as he saw the shocked understanding written in their depths. Gemma knew that she had climaxed as a true slavegirl....and knew that he knew it too!

      As Gemma's sweat streaked body slumped to the tiles in the aftermath of her tremendous orgasm, Roxwell stood and began to peel off his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers.

      "Stay exactly as you are," he warned, "You have had your pleasure and now I, as your Master, shall take mine!"

      On her back beneath the hot sun, her naked body tethered and still spread in the absolute exposure of the Display position, Gemma was in no position to resist as Roxwell's thin, but well muscled body pinned her to the ground and his thick, iron hard erection penetrated her, her moans of anguish and the futile writhing of her body beneath him only serving to inflame him and drive him on to greater exertions.

      Taken as the captive slavegirl she knew herself to be, Gemma wept as his powerful lunges speared deep into her belly, crushing her and forcing her to submit to him, her body responding with helpless heat as he slaked his lust with scant regard for her feelings.

      His hands clamped on her breasts, his fingers at her nipples and Gemma shrieked as her climax peaked and her internal muscles squeezed his maleness in a vice like grip as her belly began to pulse around him, Roxwell gave a deep groan and his erection jolted once, twice, three times and his seed jetted into Gemma's pounding belly, sending her hurtling into a second devastating orgasm as her love juices mixed with his in the bubbling cauldron of her belly.

      Locked together, Master and slavegirl panted and writhed in unison, until their mutual frenzy began to wane and Roxwell was able to get to his feet and begin to dress.

      He looked down at Gemma's huddled, sweat and oil stained body and gave a slow smile, "You are beginning to learn how to please a Master, slavegirl," he chuckled, "If you keep it up, I may be sorry that I sold you," he paused and his grin grew wider, "But then, my loss is The Consortium,s gain and it's not as if I won't be able to call on your services, it it, eh?"

      Gemma gazed up at him, her blood running cold at the reminder that she had other Masters, and Mistresses, to serve, but, before she could give expression to her fears, he checked his watch and added, "Forty minutes, slavegirl, then I'll come to take you back inside. Tomorrow, you can have an hour and we'll see how your tan comes along," and with a sketchy wave, he was gone!

      Exhausted, her mind numb, it was several minutes before Gemma recovered sufficiently to roll over and release her stiff arms from beneath her spine, groaning as pins and needles assailed her and it was only then that she realised that Roxwell meant to repeat her sunbathing....and her oiling....every day. It didn't take much thought on her part to work out what that would lead to and she coloured just a little as a hot glow ignited in her belly in response to the thought of feeling his hands sliding over her body again. Not to mention the inevitable conclusion.

      As she lay on the hot tiles, Gemma shrugged her shoulders mentally. She hadn't wanted to be a slave and certainly wouldn't be one out of choice...but, as she didn't have a choice, she'd simply have to put up with it and get as much pleasure as possible.

      With that almost comforting thought in her mind, she closed her eyes....

      The accuracy of her prediction was well and truly borne out, for, every afternoon, she was hobbled for the walk to the pool, tethered...and oiled by Roxwell. Which, as she had suspected, always ended with her being taken by him.

      Not that she objected, or that it would have made the slightest difference if she had, for his attitude towards her changed not one iota! He was the Master to her slavegirl and had no compunction about using his crop on her to ensure she obeyed...and she did!

      Four days, four oilings, four times she was taken...but at least her sun tan was improving and she rather liked having an all over tan.

      Splashing water over herself on the fifth day, Gemma didn't hear the soft soled shoes coming towards her across the patio and her first intimation that she was no longer alone came when a deep, harsh, half remembered voice grated, "Out slave and on your knees!"

      Gemma whirled around, dashing water from her eyes and stared aghast at the two men standing by the steps leading into the pool. One, the owner of the voice, was the giant who had acted as The Consortium's spokesman on the day she had been collared and fitted with the steel cuffs of her slavery, the other was a stranger to Gemma, a much smaller man with olive skin and jet black hair.

      "Out, slave!" the huge man repeated and he bent swiftly and seized the chain linking Gemma's left ankle to the anchorage point.

      Gemma panicked, suddenly shamefully aware of her nudity and made the twin mistakes of trying to run away, while at the same time bending low in the water to hide herself from their eyes.

      The big man shook his head in exasperation and gave the chain in his hand a mighty yank. Gemma's left leg was jerked from under her and she plunged below the surface, her mouth and eyes spluttering, threshing with her arms, she was dragged through the water like a hooked fish as the giant hauled her in hand over hand, as if she weighed nothing at all. It was a frightening experience, demonstrating his physical strength and as Gemma fought for breath on all fours in the shallows of the pool, her wet hair straggling over her face, she realised with horrifying clarity, that she couldn't possibly resist such overwhelming power.

      "You were ordered to kneel, slave. It would be unwise to test our patience further," the speaker was the dark haired man, the words spoken softly and with a vaugely French accent.

      Gemma lifted her bedraggled head and found herself gazing into two implacable faces, neither giving the least hint of compassion.

      She knew at once that the men meant big trouble for her and that her best hope was absolute obedience. She rose to her knees, straightened her spine and arched her body into the submission position, hoping against hope that the men would overlook her panicky reaction to their first order and not punish her for disobedience.

      The smaller man took a length of white nylon rope from his pocket, "Cross your wrists,slave," and moved behind her and Gemma winced as nylon looped around and over and between her wrists, drawing tight, but not uncomfortably so. She wondered why they didn't just use the steel cuffs already on her limbs? Surely that would be both easier and more secure, wouldn't it?

      She gave up wondering about it as the man walked around from behind her and invited her to test the security of his tie. Puzzled but obedient, Gemma gave a sharp tug at the ropes and instantly gave a pained grimace as the rope tightened and pinched her flesh.

      The big man grunted, "Good. Those knots get tighter if you struggle."

      "Yes, the more you fight, the more it pinches. Get the picture, slave?"

      Gemma didn't trust herself to speak and had not been given permission, so simply nodded her head glumly, her unhappy expression bringing a chuckle to the big man's lips.

      "Well, well. I see you've managed to learn something since we last met. You'd better hope that you've learned enough, because we're not as patient as old Roxwell," and his predatory grin told Gemma that she was going to have to be very, very careful... and very, very obedient!

      "On your feet, slave, we've got a long way to go tonight," the casual announcement brought a cold chill to Gemma's belly and she gulped worriedly, wondering where they meant to take her and what would lie in store for her.

      Her anxiety redoubled as the end of a second, much longer length of rope was knotted snugly about her throat and she had no choice but to follow as the chain to her ankle was released and the rope pressed into service as a leash to lead her back into the house. Into the house, but not however, to her familiar cell. Instead, she found herself in the main body of the house and was actually relieved when she was taken into an oak panelled study and saw Roxwell sitting in a comfortable leather armchair, a large glass of whisky in his hand.

      His greeting to her captors sent her spirits plummeting, "I see you found her, then. Good. Do you have time for a drink, or are you going straight off?" and she realised that he did not intend to accompany her.

      Heedless of the disapproving frowns which appeared on the faces of all three of her captors, Gemma summoned up all her remaining courage and made a direct appeal to Roxwell, "Please, Master," she begged softly, "Please don't let them take me. I beg you, Master, let me stay here and...and please you as your slavegirl," and she sank to her knees in supplication, more terrified of leaving with the other two than facing the wrath of Roxwell.

      Her desperate appeal, sincere as it was, proved to be a mistake and her wide brown eyes filled with anguished horror as Roxwell got to his feet, marched over to where she knelt and seized her jaw in his strong hand, "Be silent, slavegirl!" he commanded sternly, "How dare you defy three Masters! My friends are members of The Consortium and you will soon learn what it is to serve all members of our group, all your Masters in any way they choose! Surely you did not think that I could be persuaded...tricked...into taking your part against my friends! Have you not, even now, realised what you are? You are simply a slavegirl. A purchase. An acquisition. A joint investment by all members of The Consortium and as such, a joint asset, to be used jointly by an members who desire you!"

      The shocking impact of his blunt words drove into Gemma's brain like hammer blows, destroying her last, lingering hope that someone, perhaps even Roxwell himself might take pity on her and help her escape the awful reality of her plight.

      There was no one, not one single person who would help her and Gemma shuddered rackingly as she faced the unavoidable prospect of the future to which her erstwhile partner and lover had condemned her!

      Paralysed by the enormity of her lover's betrayal, Gemma knelt weeping as her two new Masters bid farewell to Roxwell, then took more lengths of rope from their pockets and, with his active cooperation, seized her trembling body, forced her to her belly and bound her ankles tightly together, despite her frantic struggles. Helplessly bound, she screamed and pleaded as her elbows and knees were lashed together and it was then a childishly simple matter for them to prise her jaws apart and insert a massive ball of hard leather between her teeth, gagging her into near silence.

      Lying on her belly, as helpless as a new born kitten, Gemma chewed vainly on her gag as her Masters inspected their handiwork, savouring the way their ropes dimpled her flesh and assuring themselves that she had no chance of freeing herself.

      "Yes, we prefer rope on a slave. Steel is stronger, of course, but we think there's nothing to beat the look of tight ropes against a slave's skin. Especially a nicely sun tanned one, like her."

      The futile clawing of Gemma's fingers brought chuckles of amusement from above her and she whimpered miserably as Roxwell's voice added to her despair and fear.

      "Well, I see what you mean. It does look good, but I'll stick to the added security of steel. In any case, she's all yours now, so do as you like with her. Do you need a hand, or can you manage?"

      The gravelly tones of the giant assured him that they could manage just fine and Gemma gave a shrill squeal of horror as she felt herself lifted and placed belly down over the huge man's shoulder, her head dangling down his back and his had clamped over her naked buttocks, holding her as easily as a man carrying a roll of carpet. She could barely wriggle and as she was carried from the room, her last sight was Roxwell lifting his glass in a silent toast to her, his lips curved in a mocking grin.

      Minutes later, Gemma's eyes dilated in horror as she was placed on her back in what she instantly recognised as the boot of a large car. Flipped over onto her belly, she was powerless to resist as her bound legs were doubled up to her buttocks and her wrists linked to her ankles, the rope drawn cruelly tight, her spine forming a deep hollow as she was hog tied into immobility.

      She couldn't even scream as hands burrowed beneath ruthlessly tensioned body to fasten on her breasts and nipples and she shook impotently as unwanted arousal surged and rolled through her in response to the merciless stimulation.

      "Just a little taste, slave," the soft voice of the man she thought of as the Frenchman whispered in her ear. "Just enough to keep you amused until we reach our destination," and Gemma moaned in her need as the hands left her body and her surroundings went dark as the lid of the boot was closed over her helpless nudity.

      The slam of the car doors and the whirr of the engine set Gemma struggling against her bonds, but the ropes were far too tight, pinching her flesh and she was forced to desist almost at once, able only to endure her cramped and increasingly uncomfortable bondage as best she could as the speeding car transported her towards the destination chosen for her by her two demanding Masters.

      Masters who loved rope and the restrictions it could impose on a defenceless slave, shaping her to whatever position they desired and holding her in utter, helpless subjugation for them to enjoy.

      Gemma had no illusions about her new  Masters. The firm bite of the rope on her flesh and the persistent tingling of her aroused breasts left her in no doubt of what lay ahead and she groaned softly into her ball gag, praying that she would be able to please her two Masters and not incur too many punishments.

      The only thing she knew for certain, was that she would try desperately hard to be pleasing.

      Failure did not bear thinking about!

CHAPTER 7

      Gemma lay on her right side on a low, hard single bed wondering just how much longer her new Masters proposed to leave her alone with her discomfort.

      There was little else she could do, for her arms were bound behind her back by black nylon rope from her wrists all the way to well above her elbows, compressing her arms into a single column,  straining her shoulders back and making her naked breasts thrust provocatively forward. Her legs, too, were a total lost cause, a second length of black rope looped around and around from ankles to mid-thighs. To add to her misery, a broad black leather gag-strap covered her face from nose to chin, its attached cylinder of hard leather wedged deep between her back teeth, reducing any protests she tried to make to muffled and quite unintelligible mumbles. She couldn't even turn over or change her position to ease her stiff muscles because ropes knotted about her slim throat stretched out to posts at the top of her bed, holding her fast, while others from her ankles to posts at the bottom, drew her body out to its full length.

      How long she had been tied in this uncomfortable manner, Gemma had no way of telling and the windowless room provided no clues to help her. From the aching of her limbs, it could have been hours and she was miserably aware that it could be hours more before her Masters decided to return to her and even then, they might not choose to release her. The only certainty was that she wasn't going anywhere until somebody decided to let her go....if they ever did!

      Lifted from the boot of the car by her giant Master's strong arms, her still hogtied body cradled against his muscular chest, Gemma had been carried swiftly to a windowless room and placed face down on a hard single bed. When the rope linking her wrists and ankles was released, her doubled legs had flopped limply, numbed from their long confinement and able to present no resistance as the white rope binding her ankles was released but immediately replaced with black. Rolled over onto her back, she watched helplessly as the Frenchman lifted her legs and began to pass the long coil of rope around and around, pulling each turn snug and clamping her legs immovably together. Inch by inch, turn by turn, the rope crept higher and Gemma gaped as her suntanned calves began to disappear beneath a layer of tight black rope. Just below her knees, he had paused for a moment to remove the white rope tying her knees together, but then he had resumed and her knees and several inches of her thighs had vanished beneath his rope. By the time he tied the final tight knot and stood back to admire his handiwork, Gemma's tanned legs had been all but invisible, only her feet and top few inches of her thighs emerging from a seamless cocoon of black nylon rope!

      It was a quite extraordinary sight, the contrast between her pale flesh and the blackness of her bonds emphasising her helplessness in a most dramatic fashion. Nor was her bondage only for show as Gemma had soon discovered as she attempted to move. Her legs, effectively glued together from ankles to crotch, could no longer bend and Gemma had seriously doubted whether she would have been able to get off the bed and stand up, let alone walk, even if her arms had been free!

      She was saved the trouble of trying to decide, when her Masters had flipped her back over onto her belly and untied her wrists. With the example of their bondage skills fresh in her mind, Gemma had guessed instantly that her arms were about to be bound in the same way as her legs and had done her best to resist, her fingers clawing blindly, remembering how horribly uncomfortable and hopelessly vulnerable she had felt when her trainers had laced her arms into the inescapable leather of a single glove. To have the same done to her with rope would, she had imagined, be far worse.    

      Unfortunately, Gemma had forgotten two things. Firstly, that her elbows had also been lashed firmly together and secondly, that these Masters would brook no disobedience whatever from a slavegirl. She moaned in bitter futility as strong hands evaded her sharp fingernails and seized her wrists in a crushing grip, then gave a muffled yip of unexpected pain as a cruelly hard double handed smack exploded against her tender buttocks.

      Tears of pain and defeat in her eyes, Gemma had surrendered to the inevitable, making no further attempts to defy her Masters' will and restricting her protests to winces and gasps of consternation as rope tightened on her flesh, squeezing her wrists, then her forearms and, finally and most uncomfortably of all, her elbows together into a solid, aching mass.

      Then they had removed her gag, exchanging it for a much larger and more effective version, remaining impervious to Gemma's pleas and promises as she had used the few seconds of vocal freedom permitted her to try to persuade them to be more lenient with her.

      The gag, inserted and buckled tightly, had ended the one sided conversation and Gemma had only been able to watch in mute frustration as her neck and ankles were leashed to the bedposts.

      Bound as she was, utterly at their mercy and hopelessly vulnerable, Gemma's tautly proffered breasts had presented her Masters with a tempting and quite irresistible opportunity.

      One which they had no intention of missing!

      Juddering in her bonds, whimpering in helpless need, Gemma had been forced to respond passionately as their lips and tongues nibbled and rolled and sucked at her excruciatingly sensitive nipples until the twin rigid knobs had throbbed and quivered with unbearable arousal and Gemma had begged into her gag to be given the slave's climax she desired so desperately.

      The calculated callousness of their laughing refusal was a devastating shock to the pleading brunette....but no more devastating than the gigantic tidal waves of thrillingly submissive arousal which crashed and pounded through her helplessly trussed body as her ruthless Masters demonstrated their absolute authority over her and taught her that, while she wore the collar of a slave, they and not she controlled every facet of her very existence.

      Even to the extent of granting...or witholding.... the pleasure she would be permitted!

      With every nerve ending in her body tingling with a fervent desire that was doomed to remain unsatisfied...at least temporarily...Gemma had fought a desperate losing battle against her bondage, her most strenuous and persistent efforts failing utterly to win even a fractional loosening of the ropes binding her and her failure adding to the shameful pleasure she felt in her helplessness.

      Bound by her Masters and aroused for their tittilation and amusement, Gemma had at last abandoned her escape attempts and allowed herself to succumb to the seductive allure of powerlessness. Nothing she could do could alter their plans for her, nothing she could do could save her from her fate and as she had reluctantly accepted the inevitably of her subjugation by the two men, Gemma savoured the bitter-sweet mixture of delicious arousal, infuriating frustration and nervous apprehension which she had learned were the unavoidable consequences of the slave collar she wore about her neck.

      Gagged, she had not even been able to express her fury at being so cruelly thwarted as her Masters had taken their hands from her and walked off without even a backward glance, leaving her massively aroused, but unable to achieve the orgasm which she had so nearly, but not quite, reached!

      Buoyed up by the hope that they would return quickly and complete her surrender, Gemma had relaxed as best she could, enjoying the heat simmering in her belly and trying to ignore the increasing discomfort of her bound limbs.

      She had waited...and waited...and waited...

      Gemma was still waiting, the heat of her arousal long cooled and replaced by the unceasing aches of her tightly bound limbs, her earlier optimism given way to a growing fear that her Masters were never coming back!

      For perhaps the hundredth time her arms and legs tensed against the unforgiving ropes securing her and, also for the hundredth time, failed to make the slightest impression, her body remaining exactly where her Masters had bound her.

      As if on cue, the door of the room opened and Gemma swallowed nervously as her Masters strode towards her, then bent and began to untie the ropes leashing her neck and ankles to the bed posts. Deprived of their steadying influence, Gemma rolled helplessly onto her back, her right hip and shoulder aching fiercely, but her physical discomfort vanished as if it had never been as she noticed that the two men left the room for a moment, then returned with their hands full.

      The smaller of the two, the "Frenchman," carried a tangle of ropes and pulleys, while the giant toted a step ladder. While Gemma watched with mounting unease, the giant set the ladder in the middle of the room, took one end of the set of pulleys and climbed the steps with it in his hand.. The "Frenchman" meanwhile untwisted the tangled ropes and Gemma felt an icy chill invade her stomach as she realised they were setting up some sort of hoist or lifting gear!

      High up in the white painted ceiling, the giant hooked his end of the hoist to an almost invisible white painted ring, tested it to make sure it was secure, then climbed down.

      "OK, it's fixed."

      "Good. I'm almost ready here."

      Gemma's eyes followed the ropes running through the hoist's pulleys, up, down, up and then down again and she gave a muffled whimper of terrified understanding as she saw a broad webbing loop dangling from a hook beneath the lower set of pulleys.

      "I'll take her shoulders, you get her feet," the giant ordered and Gemma wrenched wildly at her bonds but could manage little more than a side to side rocking of her body as her Masters bent over her. An explosive grunt of despair burst from Gemma's flaring nostrils as the webbing strap was looped around her ankles and clipped into the hook and she stared frantically down past her naked, heaving breasts and the roped columns of her legs as the smaller of her Masters went to the hoist and began to take up the slack.

      Gemma legs kicked feebly, the strongest resistance she could make, as rope snaked through the pulleys and the ratchet clicked, but she could not slip her ankles from the webbing band and gave a great moan of anguish as the strap tightened and her legs began to rise.

      Frozen in disbelief, she watched her bound legs lifted until they angled up sharply and only her buttocks and spine remained in contact with the bed, and still the ratchet clicked.

      Hands at her shoulders gripped her firmly, preventing any movement and she stared up wildly into the piercing blue eyes of her giant Master as her buttocks rose into the air, the click of the ratchet slowing as her weight came on to the hoist.

      Slowing, but not stopping and Gemma squealed in fear as her shoulders lifted clear of the bed and he eased her clear of the bed posts, her dark hair hanging beneath her to sweep the floor as she was positioned directly beneath the hoist!

      Still not stopping even then as her body, head down and suspended by her ankles, rose further until her horrified, gagged face hung some four feet above the floor.

      The clicking of the ratchet stopped and Gemma trembled wildly, whimpering in anguish as her body began a slow spin and she saw the hard smiles on the upside down faces of her Masters move slowly into and out of her vision as she turned.

      A hand came to rest on her hip, ending the disorientating spin, but her gratitude lasted only a few brief moments as it slid across her buttocks and was joined by a second hand, the pair roaming freely across her rounded cheeks and upper thighs as one of her Masters fondled and kneaded the resilient flesh so enticingly and conveniently available to him.

      The half of Gemma's face visible above the gag strap burned a vivid scarlet as an extended finger probed the shadowed crack between her buttocks, breaching the tight ring of her rear entry and penetrating her with embarrassing ease despite the vain clenching of her muscles. Her other Master sent his hands to her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers and thumbs and Gemma squealed breathily as the heady combination rekindled the flame of her earlier passion.

      In a matter of seconds, the suspended brunette was returned to the inferno of helplessly submissive lust she had been forced to undergo once before and she trembled in her bonds as her nipples and belly responded uncontrollably to the firm touch of her Masters, her body filling with white hot arousal as she was propelled towards an unavoidable climax.

      One hand strayed from her throbbing nipples and Gemma threw her head from side to side in futile pleading as fingers burrowed through the luxuriant triangle of dark curls between her thighs and found the fleshy button of her clitoris!

      Unbearable jolts of overwhelming arousal shot through Gemma's shuddering body and she screamed in abject surrender and awful, delirious ecstasy as the fingers of her Masters forced her over the precipice of her need and into a thundering, spinning vortex of sheer animal gratification as her orgasm burst unstoppably into her shaking, spasming belly!

      Penetrated at front and rear, no defence possible or, by that stage, even wanted, Gemma could hold nothing back and pulsed and juddered and screamed in joyous, unconditional welcome as torrents of scalding love juices rained down into her belly to blend with the swirling, bubbling whirlpool of her intense desires as she came again and again.

      Even the knowledge of her all too obvious subjugation could not dim Gemma's sexual ecstasy, nor quell the furious passions unleashed within her and she gasped for breath, uncaring of her bonds and her collar and her enslavement as pulse after pulse of pure, raw pleasure ripped through her belly to set her spasming afresh.

      Minutes slipped by unnoticed as Gemma explored the unsuspected depths of her own passions, but all things, no matter how pleasurable, eventually pass and her orgasm slowly waned to a warm, delicious memory as she returned, most unwillingly, to the reality of her surroundings.

      "Welcome back, slave," the ironic greeting brought a flush to Gemma's neck, "You climax well to your Masters' touch. It is to be hoped that you will give pleasure as well as you receive it, slave, for it is unwise for a slave to disappoint her Masters," and his lips curved in a mirthless grin.

      There was no mistaking the meaning, or the unspoken threat, behind his words and Gemma's

flush deepened.

      His next words confirmed her fears, "We are going to let you down and untie your legs in a moment. Then you can show us just how pleasing a slave you are. But first, watch and learn, slavegirl."

      He took a step backwards, rejoining his silent partner and Gemma's eyes bulged with fearful dread as her second Master produced two sinister looking riding crops and handed one to his companion.

      "Oh, don't worry, slave. So far, we are quite satisfied with your performance. You are not going to be whipped...or at least, not yet! This is simply a demonstration of what can happen to you if you do not continue to satisfy us...." and the two men walked forward and took up a position on each side of Gemma's dangling body.

      Her muffled whimpers of panic and frantic struggles to distance her naked flesh from their cruel whips, only set her body swinging a few inches back and forth and the men chuckled, knowing that she could never hope to escape.

      A crop reached out, its tip flicking lightly across her right buttock and Sally's body flinched instinctively, as if she had actually been struck. Then the second crop pecked at her belly and she winced again, although the leather caused her no pain.

      A dozen or more times, crops touched her gently, all over her buttocks, up and down her thighs and across her lower belly, never hurting, but sending an unmistakable message that they could if she failed to be pleasing!

      In a final chilling warning, both Masters set their crops tapping and flicking at the upper and lower slopes of Gemma's tender breasts and the panting brunette realised that even these sensitive areas could become targets for punishment if the men were dissatisfied with her. It was a salutary lesson and one she took to heart as she was lowered to the floor and her legs untied. As soon as she could, Gemma struggled to her knees and adopted the submission position she had been taught, offering her body to her Masters in the hope that they would be pleased.

      They clearly were and showed their appreciation of her by twirling her presented nipples in their fingers and enjoying her wide eyed battle to remain in position as the twin buds hardened into trembling rigidity!

      Tormented almost beyond bearing, Gemma staggered to her feet and spread her legs wide in response to a terse command from her giant Master. Towering over her, dwarfing and dominating her by the sheer presence of  his muscular physique, he waited until he had her full, anxious attention. Then, he peeled off his shirt to reveal his broad chest and smiled into Gemma's gagged face as his hand dropped to  rub the massive bulge straining at the front of his trousers.

      Fascinated despite herself, she couldn't help staring and her belly gave a convulsive lurch in appalled anticipation.

      Distracted by the sight before her, she was too slow to react as the man behind looped the webbing strap around her wrists. She twisted her neck to stare down over her left shoulder and swallowed hard as she realised that her arms were securely linked to the hoist.

      Horrified understanding swamped into her brain, drowning out the voice of reason telling her that she had no chance of escape and Gemma broke her pose, jerking wildly at her arms and stumbling forward in her efforts to get away.

      Her Masters made no attempt to stop her, their eyes gleaming as her naked body twisted and writhed in her struggles to shake the webbing loop from her wrists and Gemma whimpered hopelessly as she reached the limit of the hoist's scope and could go no further, no matter how hard she pulled.

      "All right, slave. You've had your fun. Now it's our turn."

      The "Frenchman" strolled casually over to the hoist as he spoke and began to pull.

      Step by unwilling step, fighting every inch of the way, Gemma was dragged back to the centre of the room, sobbing miserably as the remorseless pull of the hoist overcame her desperate resistance, until she once again stood directly beneath the ring set  in the roof.

      This time though, the whir of the pulleys did not stop and she screamed shrilly as her arms began to rise behind her back. Up and up, higher and yet higher, her body bending forward and her head going down in helpless obedience to the inexorable compulsion.

      Bent nearly double, her arms raised vertically and pointing at the ceiling, Gemma's anguished face and bulging eyes goggled as she stared upwards at her own dangling breasts.

      "Spread your legs, slave," the order sent shock waves of horror racing through her body and she shuddered hugely.

      "We have lots more rope, slave," the voice of her Master was pitiless, "If you refuse to obey, we shall simply tie your legs apart and then whip you for your disobedience."

      Gemma moaned bitterly, recognising her defeat in the determined tone and shuffled her feet a few inches apart.

      A thin, leather covered riding crop came into her view and she trembled as it tapped each of her calves, "Wider, slave," and she inched her feet outwards, flushing in shame as the pink lips of her sex opened before her eyes.

      The crop flicked a second time at her calves, noticeably harder and she flinched to the tiny sting of its touch, "Wider, I said!" the voice held a steely note of menace and Gemma knew she dare not resist further.

      With a choking sob, she forced her legs as far apart as she could, her thighs gaping shamelessly and her upraised arms taut as a steel bar! Racking tremors shook her belly as ropes snaked around her ankles and held her in position, for Gemma knew how helpless a picture she made and how desirable and easily available her defenceless body was to her Masters.

      Bent double, there was no warning at all as leather cracked across the tight stretched skin of her buttocks and furious heat erupted!

      Gemma's muffled screams and the clenching and weaving of her reddened bottom told of her pain and her anguish, but could do nothing to help her as twelve stripes adorned her upraised buttocks  and her tears flowed as she was punished.

      "That is for breaking your pose, slave. Be warned!" the lesson came as the cropping ended and Gemma whimpered as her bottom burned hotly.

      The massive surge of arousal which exploded into her belly as firm hands caressed her whip striped bottom took Gemma completely by surprise and her face flamed as brightly as her buttocks as she realised, to her intense humiliation, that her punishment, far from damping down the smouldering fire of her passion, had had quite the opposite effect!

      Stunned by the turmoil in her body and the shocking realisation that she had, somehow, become truly submissive, Gemma froze in her bonds, her brain fighting to come to terms with the almost unthinkable truth about herself!

      Unaware of the climactic battle being waged in the body and brain of their helpless captive, Gemma's Masters ran their hands over her buttocks and breasts and belly, their fingers exploring and penetrating the most intimate and secret recesses of her sex and capturing her sensitive nipples.

      Gemma's attempt to rationalise her unexpected and frightening reaction to her punishment blew into a million pieces as incandescent arousal crashed through every fibre and nerve of her pinioned body, driving out logic and reason and every last vestige of self control as she screamed and writhed and juddered to the gigantic orgasm which foamed and thundered in irresistible waves into her belly.

      In that moment, Gemma became a true slave, accepting the subjugation imposed upon her and surrendering to the blissful ecstasy of submission as pulse after pulse of heated love juices pumped into her belly and sex, sending her spinning into a maelstrom of delirious pleasure!

      Behind her gyrating buttocks, her giant Master tore off his trousers and seized her hips and Gemma greeted the entry of his rigid maleness with a shrill squeal of welcome as he plunged deep into her convulsing belly, driving to her very core in one massive thrust!

      Responding as the slave she was, Gemma pressed back against him, impaling herself ever more firmly on his shaft and gasping as he lunged powerfully, her arousal building again as he raced towards his peak.

      Buried deep within her, he began to twitch and shudder and Gemma clamped tight around him, squeezing him as his spend jetted into her belly, flooding her and bringing moans of sensuous rapture as her second orgasm burst over her and her love juices mixed with his in a whirlpool of heated desire!

      Sated, he pulled from her seething belly and Gemma groaned in loss, distraught and yet helplessly thrilled by his arrogant pillaging of her defencelessness.

      "Not bad," she heard him say, "She's all yours," and her belly kicked furiously as she understood that she was to be taken by her other Master as well.

      The "Frenchman" if he was French, was in no hurry and Gemma trembled as his trouser clad legs came into view between her spread thighs. For a minute or more, he made no move to touch her and her and she panted rapidly, knowing that he was simply studying her exposed nudity, savouring the tightly bound curves of her body as she was forced to await his pleasure. He could do as he wished to her and Gemma knew it. Knew, too, that the deliberate delay was designed to heighten her feelings of helplessness and subjugation and his Mastery over her.

      It was working, too, for Gemma was acutely aware that a single touch of his hand between her quivering, sex stained thighs would be more than enough to send her arousal zooming out of control again! She simply wouldn't be able to stop it, her body seemed to have a mind of its own and refused to  respond to the orders of her brain.

      His hands slid over her buttocks and down her doubled over spine and she panted for breath as coils of liquid heat circled in her belly. To her shoulders then slowly back to her buttocks and then down her thighs and calves, the hands made their way and Gemma shivered as her flesh tingled excitingly to the sensitising caresses of his gentle fingers. It was a delicious...and deliciously frustrating....feeling and the brunette chewed on her gag as she again experienced the joys and the drawbacks of being a helpless captive.

      His hands rose slowly up the fronts of her calves and thighs and her nostrils flared as his fingers brushed the damp curls of her pubic hair, but then moved on and Gemma whined in frustration, knowing he was toying with her but still wishing he would touch her properly and alleviate some of the sexual pressure building up in her body.

      Even if it meant her being taken by him!

      Highly aroused, Gemma moaned with pleasure as his hands snaked around her ribs and fastened on her breasts, his thumbs pressing and rubbing her hardened nipples until they throbbed almost painfully and her eyes rolled in her head.

      Releasing one breast for a moment, he unzipped his trousers and Gemma whimpered in her need as his bulging erection slipped into her sex, its passage smoothed by the slick residue of her previous climaxes. His hand then returned to her breast and his fingers gripped her swollen orbs firmly as he bellied up to her buttocks, his maleness spearing deep into her and triggering her into an immediate climax even before he was fully bedded in her!

      Gemma was hugely embarrassed by her instantaneous surrender, but too far gone in her passion to be able to control her responses, her belly pulsing and spasming crazily as her orgasm broke and her love juices sprayed down over his thick shaft, her involuntary contractions bringing a grunt of surprised pleasure from him as he felt her capitulation.

      His grip tightened on her breasts and her eyes grew wide and round as she felt him swell within her, but she was powerless to resist as he began a long, smooth pumping action of his hips, his masculinity penetrating her deeply, then drawing back only to drive into her once more, every powerful thrust bringing a gasp of fearful, growing desire from her.

      He was neither as large nor as dominant as her other Master, but the feel of his shaft pistoning into her belly, coupled with the arousal of his hands at her breasts, was more than enough to catapult Gemma into an inferno of lust, her fingers clawing at the empty air, her belly seething like a volcano as she came and came in a continuous climax, spasming and shuddering wildly as his lunges built to a straining peak and his juices shot deep into her roiling belly!

      Sagging limply in her bonds, exhausted and devastated by the shattering power of her multiple orgasms, Gemma had no breath left even to whimper as her ankles were untied and she was lowered to the floor, there to collapse in a boneless huddle as she was permitted to recover some semblance of control over her sweat streaked and sex stained body.

      It was an immense relief to have her arms untied and, after the first few minutes of acute discomfort as circulation returned and stressed muscles protested, to be able to move normally again and Gemma was duly grateful, forcing her aching body to kneel in the approved position.

      Her Masters were very pleased, "Excellent, slave," they congratulated her, "You have done well. Come with us," and they walked slowly to the door, giving Gemma time to rise to her feet and follow.

      Subdued and very tired, Gemma stumbled on aching legs to a second room nearby and sank onto a soft single bed as her Masters told her to rest.

      "Get some sleep, slave. We shall feed you in the morning and then you can bathe and wash your hair. After all , you will want to be looking at your best for your audience, won't you?"

      Gemma's brow wrinkled as her Masters chuckled, but she was very tired and in any case, still wore her gag, so couldn't ask what they meant.

      Deciding that she would find out soon enough and that knowing bad news wasn't going to help her, Gemma lay down obediently and stared up at her smiling Masters as they bid her a good night and turned to the door.

      "Oh, by the way, as you have not attempted to take it out without our permission, you may now remove your gag, if you wish," and her dark haired Master grinned knowingly as Gemma blushed and nodded her thanks.

      The door clicked closed and the rattle of bolts told Gemma that there was no point looking for escape in that quarter. She reached behind her neck and unbuckled the gag strap as quickly as she could, yanking the sodden leather from her mouth and hurling it across the room, then working her stiffened jaws "Yeuch! Horrible damned thing!" she complained, then gazed around her prison.

      It didn't take very long for her to realise that the only exit was the door through which she had entered the room and she already knew that was bolted.

      Gemma gave a heavy sigh, then lay down again, "I wonder what audience they were talking about," she mused to herself, "I bet it'll be just awful and humiliating, whatever it is. And I'll probably be all tied up and helpless, too. These guys are rope mad!" and she looked in dismay at the imprint of her tight bondage on her wrists and ankles and limbs, shaking her head in disbelief.

      Her brown eyes filled with tears as she looked up, "Oh, Mike," she cried miserably, "How could you do this to me?" but there was no answer and she threw herself over onto her belly, her slim shoulders shaking with sobs as she wept into her pillow.

CHAPTER 8

      The low hum of animated conversation in the large, elegant and beautifully furnished lounge died away to a tense, expectant silence as the double doors swung open and Gemma's Masters strode in. a long wooden pole slung from their shoulders.

      Bound to it by a continuous length of black rope spiralling around her body from her pointed toes to the tips of her outstretched fingers, Gemma's naked body gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows, her steel collar and cuffs glittering and the broad black leather gag strap contrasting dramatically with her pale flesh to create an intensely erotic image.

      In the dead silence that greeted her arrival, Gemma's bearers carried her over to a pair of black iron chains suspended from the high ceiling and terminating in large rings some eight or nine feet apart and six feet above the carpet. Lifting her, they slotted each end of the pole through one of the rings and stood back, leaving her hanging belly down....

      As promised, Gemma's day had begun with a delicious breakfast, wolfed down in minutes by the ravenous brunette as she knelt between the chairs of her Masters in their spacious dining room. Emboldened by the unusual freedom of being neither bound nor fed from their hands, Gemma had taken a deep breath, lifted her head from her empty plate and humbly requested to be allowed to speak.

      "You may, slave," her Masters had replied jovially, "What is it you wish to say?"

      "May I know your names, Masters?" she had asked, "I know I must always call you Master, but it would make it...easier...for me if I knew who had...enslaved me," and her voice tailed off as she admitted her lowly status.

      "So you accept your enslavement then, slave?"

      Gemma had thought long and hard about that very question during the previous night and had come to the inescapable conclusion that she had no choice in the matter and that, having no choice, she would just have to be the slave that they required her to be.

      "Yes, my Masters," she had replied slowly and felt her groin moisten as she committed herself.

      "Good. Then in answer to your question, slave, I am Master Axel and my companion is Master Nicos." It was the giant who spoke and Gemma looked up, thinking to herself how well his strong, uncompromising name fitted his character.

      She turned to her other Master, Nicos, "Are you French, my Master?" she had asked curiously.

      The dark haired man had chuckled, "No, slave. What makes you ask that?"

      "Well...I don't know really. You look, sort of, French...and your accent..." it had sounded lame to Gemma even as she said it, but he hadn't seemed bothered.

      "I am from Cyprus," he had told her and then her other Master had cut in.

      "Where all the shipping tycoons come from, eh, Nicos? Onassis, Niarchos and you."

      "Ah, but sadly no longer, my friend. As you know, I am retired and simply while away my days with my little yacht."

      The big man had snorted, "Hah! Little yacht, my foot. I don't call a hundred and ninety feet, little!"

      "Well, perhaps not," Nicos had agreed equably, "It certainly has enough room for my friends..." he had paused and allowed his dark eyes to scan Gemma's body, "And a slave!"

       Gemma had gulped, lowering her head submissively and feeling her belly surge with slow heat as she whispered, "Yes, my Master," and the heat had increased as she had looked up in time to see him nod decisively.

      Fighting to supress a sudden urge to beg the two men to take her, Gemma had opened her mouth to ask what they had meant by their veiled reference to her wanting to look her best for her audience, but she was too late.

      "Enough, slave. No more questions!" Axel had snapped and her question had died on her lips, keeping her in ignorance of their plans.

      Ordered to her feet, she had followed them to a luxurious bathroom where she was left alone to bathe and wash her hair. Alone, but secure, for, just as at Roxwell's house, a hinged tile had been lifted to reveal a long chain welded to a steel ring and the chain had been locked to her collar.

      Resigned to her continuing captivity, Gemma had shrugged and made the best of it, relaxing in a deep, hot bath, washing her hair three times and brushing it dry in front of the full length mirror, then waiting patiently for her Masters to return.

      She felt wonderful and had known she looked good. When the two men came back, she had gone to her knees and presented her body, flushing with pleasure as they had told her that she made a lovely slave.

      Given a lift by their compliments, Gemma had walked back to her cell, aware at every step of their eyes on her swaying buttocks and slim legs, wondering and even hoping, that they might want to take her.

      The ten foot wooden pole fixed vertically in the centre of her cell, a square wooden box at its foot,  had come as an unwelcome surprise and Gemma had eyed it with more than a little trepidation as her Masters had explained its purpose, their evident enthusiasm doing little to allay her concern. Her bondage, they had assured her, would be both elegant and graceful, displaying her beautifully. She would love it, they had said, but Gemma was not quite so convinced.

      She had no doubt at all that her body would be displayed, but knew from experience that her Master's bondage was invariably tight, uncomfortable...and escape proof.

      "Go over to the pole, slave, stand on the box, feet together and your arms above your head," the voice had left no room for negotiation and Gemma did as she was bid, a shiver running up her spine as her back met the cool, hard wood.

      Working carefully and methodically, her two Masters had then lashed her ankles together to the post   and begun to spiral the black rope up her calves and thighs, pulling each loop tight as they went and clamping the wood to her flesh. As she was bound and the rope squeezed her belly and waist in a firm, unyielding embrace, Gemma had gasped as her arousal flared, savouring the steadily increasing helplessness being imposed on her as she was turned into the bondage slave that her Masters desired and which she, too, wished to be.

      She did not even consider resisting. It would have been useless and, in any case, as she had at last come to realise, she liked the restriction her bonds enforced on her and the delicious heat which was the inevitable accompaniment of her submission.

      The ropes had spiralled higher, below and above her breasts, at her shoulders, her neck and higher still to compress her arms and then to bind her wrists, her arousal building higher as her freedom was taken from her.

      Her nostrils flared as the rope had then spiralled downwards, doubling her bondage and she had moaned in submissive pleasure as her breasts, already swollen with need, had thrust even more prominently as the tight black rope lifted and proffered her for her Masters' touch. Across her belly and down her legs, the rope had criss crossed her smooth skin, restraining her ever more thoroughly until she had been unable to do more than flutter her toes and fingers, her arousal burning like a bright flame within her to the thrilling knowledge that she was entirely helpless.

      Her mouth had opened willingly as a gag was brought to her lips and she had panted for breath as the leather cylinder sank between her jaws and its strap had been buckled around the post behind her, forcing her head erect between her upraised arms.

      It had been a wonderful moment for Gemma as her Masters tied the last knot and stood back to survey her, their eyes gleaming with pleasure as she had strained against her bonds to prove to them how securely fixed she was, her submissive delight shining in her eyes as their skilfully tied ropes loosened not a fraction.

      "Quite superb, slave," they had told her, "Far too inviting to resist," and Gemma had whimpered into her gag, her belly churning with lust as their lips had fastened on her breasts, surrounding her nipples with warm, wet heat as they had feasted on her defenceless flesh.

      The arousal had been intense, but too short lived from Gemma's point of view and her eyes had pleaded eloquently but in vain as her Masters took their lips from her.

      "One hour, slave," they had told her, "Then we shall return for you," and they had left her!

      True to their word, an hour had gone by. An hour in which Gemma had failed to free herself and during which her arousal burned undiminished.

      When they had come for her, her eyes had smiled a welcome, but they had had no time for her needs and she had gaped in astonishment as they had released the pole from its fixings and lifted it, and her, onto their shoulders, her body suspended face down in its mesh of black rope!

      Taken from the room, her gasps of fear lost in her gag, she had trembled as she was carried through the house to a pair of high double doors.

      Her Master, Axel, had thrown the doors wide and her terror had overwhelmed her as she was carried into a huge, sunlit room and she had seen a sea of faces staring at her!

      Paralysed by the terrible shock, Gemma had not even been able to scream as she was carried across the room to a pair of chains hanging from the ceiling and the ends of her pole slotted into place to leave her suspended....

      "Ladies and gentlemen of The Consortium, I give you Gemma, your slave!" Axel's voice cut through the silence in the lounge and was immediately followed by a storm of clapping and shouts of "Bravo!" and "Well said" and, "Fine job, Axel."

      The hubbub broke Gemma's trance like state and her gag muffled screams and the frantic tensing of her muscles focused all eyes upon her, most smiling at her futile struggles, but some frowning at what they clearly considered to be her unseemly behaviour.

      Gemma's terrified brown eyes raced from one face to the next, recognising Roxwell, the blonde, Alicia, her current Masters and one or two others from the day of her auction, but others she did not recognise at all  and her blood ran cold as she realised that all of them were members of The Consortium which had bought her as a slave and all had part ownership of her!

      She flushed hotly as they gathered around her suspended body but was unable to move a muscle to cover her displayed nudity or fend off the hands which stroked and caressed her breasts and belly and thighs and buttocks as the mixed group, dominant Masters and Mistresses all she remembered with a choking gulp, examined her with humiliating thoroughness and a proprietary air that brought tears of shame to her eyes.

      Not to mention the blistering arousal that the touch of so many hands sent racing through her immobilised body!

      "Hot little thing, isn't she?"

      "Have you whipped her?"

      "Is she pleasing?"

      "How does she respond to severe bondage?"

      "Is she a natural submissive? She certainly reacts like one."

      The questions flew thick and fast and Gemma blushed a vivid scarlet as each was answered in humiliating detail by one or other of the four Masters in whose power she had been, her likes and dislikes, fears and responses laid out for the benefit of those whose turn as her Masters was yet to come.

      At last, the stream of questions dried up and Gemma shuddered helplessly as her Masters, old and new, adjourned to the cocktail cabinet for drinks, leaving her to reflect worriedly on the fact that now that all of The Consortium knew what could be extracted from her with the right combination of ruthless dominance and skilful arousal, she would inevitably be forced to submit to each and every one of them!

      A prospect at the same time shamefully exciting and horrifying....and unavoidable, for Gemma didn't kid herself that any new Master or Mistress would be less exacting or demanding than those she had been made to serve already. She would be forced to do exactly as they wished and woe betide her if she failed to be pleasing!

      Hanging beneath her pole, her mind a prey to numberless imaginings, Gemma watched and waited and worried as her owners relaxed, eyes occasionally flicking to her tightly bound body as if to check that she had not managed to escape.

      They need not worry, Gemma thought bitterly to herself, her bonds hadn't given an inch and she wouldn't be able to escape if they left her where she was for a week!

      Perhaps fortunately for the brunette, it was only an hour or so, rather than a week, before the drinks session came to an end and she again became the centre of attention.

      Axel stepped forward and Gemma gave a muffled cry of impotent fury as his hard palm slapped down on her naked rump, the sharp crack of the blow and the immediate appearance of the stinging red imprint of his hand testifying to his strength and accuracy and bringing smiles to the faces of his audience, "Now to business," he said loudly, "We all know why we are here and our vote was unanimous. Mistress Lydia, you have the floor," and he stood aside to allow a short, dark, rather severe looking woman in her late thirties to step forward.

      Gemma looked down, the stinging pain in her bottom forgotten as her breasts were cupped by the woman's hands and examined closely.

      "Hmm. Yes, no problems there. Bring my case, please."

      She looked directly into Gemma's eyes and adopted a brisk, no nonsense tone, "Now then, slave, pay attention. You heard Axel say that our vote was unanimous. Well, it was and the outcome is that you are going to have your breasts pierced. No, no, no," she said soothingly as Gemma's eyes bulged and she tensed every muscle in a frantic bid to break free of her bonds, "Now, now, that's enough of that. You can't possibly escape. Now, don't worry, slave, I'm a senior surgeon and I know exactly what I'm doing. I promise you it won't hurt a bit," and she smiled encouragingly up at the flabbergasted brunette.

      Gemma couldn't believe her ears. They couldn't be going to...to...No, it wasn't possible! She stared down at the calm woman below her, then around at the ring of stony faced watchers and a lump of icy panic welled up into her throat.

      Terrified by what she read in the faces, Gemma redoubled her efforts, muffled shrieks of despair leaking past her gag.

      "Oh, you silly girl!" the woman frowned, "I was afraid you were going to be difficult. Very well, hold her please," and Gemma sobbed in defeated misery as Axel and Nicos gripped her shoulders, holding her still.

      "I don't know what you're making such a fuss about. It's not exactly a major operation and I see you've had your ears pierced."

      Tears pouring down her gagged face, Gemma couldn't explain that that was different! That was only her ears and she had volunteered for it, but this....!

      The woman, Mistress Lydia, cupped Gemma's right breast in her left hand and rolled the nipple between her thumb and forefinger, then flicked the crinkled button with her thumb nail. Twice more and to Gemma's abject terror, she felt the nipple growing hard! She tried to stop it, to will it not to erect, but it swelled remorselessly under the woman's fingers until it stood rigid atop her rounded breast!

      The woman grunted in satisfaction, then bent to her bag and Gemma squealed as her nipple was held in the fingers of her Mistress's left hand, while the woman's right dabbed anaesthetic liquid around the nipple's base. In seconds, her skin went numb and she really did feel nothing as a surgical steel punch was applied to her nipple and a neatly pierced hole appeared through her flesh!

      "There now, nothing to it. Just one more, then you're done," and Gemma gaped dumbly at her piercing, unable to credit the evidence of her own eyes!

      She was still frozen in shock as the procedure was repeated at her left breast and it was only as Mistress Lydia snapped her bag closed and admonished, "I trust you will be more obedient and better behaved when you visit me, slave!" that Gemma's daze began to clear.

      The full impact, however, only hit home when Roxwell stepped forward and held a velvet jewel case up to her eyes.

      The rings it held were beautifully fashioned in gleaming stainless steel, a match of the collar and cuffs Gemma wore and had it not been for the horrible fact that they were destined for her pierced nipples, she would have thought they were quite lovely. Instead, she hated them, but couldn't tear her eyes away as Roxwell told her they had been specially made for her. Despite herself, Gemma was intrigued and watched as he hinged the hoops open. Each hoop was really two, one quite small, perhaps an inch in diameter, the other more than twice the size, the pair melding seamlessly at what he explained was an internal lock similar to, but much smaller than the locks on her cuffs and collar.

      Gemma blushed luridly as he lifted the hoops and demonstrated another refinement. Attached to the larger hoops, tiny bells tinkled musically as he jiggled them and he chuckled at her consternation as he pointed out that every movement she made would be accompanied by the soft jingling of bells!

      "It's so we know when you're coming, slave," he joked cruelly and Gemma's flush deepened as several Masters laughed at the deliberate double meaning of his words.

        He raised a ring to her right breast, fed it very carefully through her piercing and clicked it closed and as he did so, Gemma shuddered helplessly as her belly kicked with fierce power.

      He chuckled, "Hot little slave," and Gemma whimpered miserably, knowing it was true!

      Her second ring, he passed to Lydia, "You began the work, my dear, so it is only right that you should finish it."

      Lydia stared hard into Gemma's eyes, until the naked brunette dropped her gaze, unable to face the fierce glare any longer.

      "Humph! That's better, slave. I'm your Mistress and you'd better not forget it. You wear this slave ring at your breast and I put it there! You belong to me and all my colleagues in The Consortium!" and with that, she fed the ring through Gemma's left nipple and snapped it shut.

      A massive tremble shook Gemma's bound body as her belly kicked again and she whimpered in anguish as the tell tale jingling of bells at her nipples betrayed her need to her Masters!

      Well aware that her breasts would need time to recover, her Masters nevertheless found other ways to enjoy her defenceless body and Gemma screamed into her gag as probing fingers explored between her thighs, penetrating her sex, stroking her clitoris, caressing her labia and breaching the puckered ring of her anus to bring shattering arousal and abject submission from her tormented body as she spasmed and wept and pulsed in enforced responses to the demands of expert Masters and Mistresses who knew exactly how to wreak the maximum havoc on a slave.

      Gemma had not the remotest chance of resisting such a massive onslaught and was forced to surrender again and again, her body trembling and juddering as she was brought to climax after climax, her submission absolute as she spasmed hugely an unknown number of times to an unknown number of Masters, able only to obey the hands which manipulated her with such devastating skill and horrifying ease!

      At last, at long, long last, Gemma's sweat drenched, feebly spasming body could give no more and she was left to moan and sob and whimper in her suspension as her Masters left her alone in the lounge to recover as best she might.

      Time passed and the room grew dim as the sun began to set, but it brought no relief to Gemma for, as exhausted and devastated as she was, the fires kindled in her breasts and belly and sex by her ruthless subjugation simply refused to die and she whimpered in despairing anguish as tremors and shudders of fierce desire returned to rack her helpless body.

       It was then that a man, a Master she did not know returned to the room. He did not speak, but simply unbuckled her gag, pulled it from her mouth and let it dangle below her chin, watching calmly as she worked her stiffened jaws.

      Unable to endure the renewed turmoil in her belly, Gemma begged in her need, "Please, Master. I need you, my Master," and the man's teeth gleamed whitely in the gloom as he heard the piteous desperation in her voice.

      "Me, slave.....or any man?" he asked softly and Gemma trembled violently, her belled breasts jingling, knowing the answer!

      "Ah, well. No matter, slave," and he thrust her gag back into her mouth, silencing her.

      Strapped tightly to the wooden pole, she couldn't do a thing as he supported her legs, slid the pole free, eased her feet down to the floor, then did the same with her shoulders and lay her on her back on the thick carpet.

      He busied himself at the ropes enmeshing her legs and as they loosened, Gemma opened herself to his gaze and his touch, her shame unable to compete with the burning lust engulfing her belly. Uncaring that her torso and arms remained firmly bound, she surrendered instantly, her hips rising clear of the carpet beneath her as his fingers caressed the slick wetness of her sex, bringing soft moans of unbearable longing from her gagged lips.

      As he positioned himself between her  spread thighs and his thick maleness slid smoothly into her welcoming warmth, Gemma arched into a straining bow, her belly enfolding him and drawing him deep into the cauldron of her passion, her eyes wide in the unseeing stare of a slave in need as she was taken in hard, fast lunges.

      He reached his peak quickly, but not so quickly as Gemma and as her body writhed beneath him in the ecstasy of her long awaited release, her muffled squeals of surrender built to a shrill scream as his spend thundered into her belly to drown her shame and fears and anguish in scalding torrents of pulsing love juices as his body bucked against hers.

      For long minutes, they lay locked together panting for breath, his eyes gazing down into hers,  enjoying her submission and his dominance as she spasmed in the orgasm he had forced upon her...albeit, with her willing and even enthusiastic cooperation...and Gemma felt the colour rise into her cheeks as he basked in his absolute Mastery of her.

      Slowly, his lips curved into a broad grin, "I am pleased with you, slave," he said at last, "I am sure you will be worth every penny I paid for you. And if not, then I have no doubt you will fetch a good price on the open market!"

      His casual words sent a thrill of horror through his captive and he chuckled cruelly as her eyes reflected her terror, "Oh yes, slave," he assured her, "There is a thriving market for pretty slavegirls like you and it is by no means unknown for a slave who has not been fully pleasing to be sold on to other Masters. Of course," he went on reflectively, "Her new Masters know why she is being sold on and tend to be, shall we say, rather..ah..strict with her, until she learns to behave," he nodded down into Gemma's frightened face, "But that is not a problem for you...yet...and as long as you strive to please your other Masters in The Consortium as well as you pleased me, I'm sure everything will be fine," and he slid easily from Gemma's belly.

      Big, hot tears welled up in her eyes as he took hold of the ropes and re-tied her legs, but he was unconcerned by her distress, "Don't waste your time, slave," he told her, "I'm tear-proof. Anyway, you're pretty lucky. Not every slavegirl gets a nice collar and cuffs and pretty bells like yours, you know," and he tied the last knot to leave Gemma as hopelessly bound as before.

      Only now, she had begged to be taken as a slave and had been. Taken and then warned of the consequences of failing to be pleasing!

      Demoralised, she watched numbly as he rose and went to the door.

      "See you soon," he waved briefly, "Next time, your piercings will be healed. I'll have to think of something...." and he was gone, leaving Gemma helpless with her brain racing as she was reminded that she wore rings in her nipples and that her Masters saw her as more of a slave than ever!

      A slave whose sole function was to provide pleasure to her Masters, her body theirs to arouse and use and enjoy as they wished, no matter what the cost in shame and discomfort and anguish to their powerless victim.

      Exactly as she had been used by the dominant Master who had just left her and whose name she did not even know!

      Gemma looked down through the gathering gloom to the pale swells of her breasts and gave an involuntary shiver as she saw the glimmer of steel transfixing her flesh and marking her as The Corporation's captive. Her slightest movement set the silver bells tinkling musically and her face burned as she remembered how Roxwell and the others had laughed when he had joked that the sound would tell them when she was coming!

      The trouble was, he had been correct. Not only did the bells betray her each time a Master or Mistress aroused her, but her piercings had had a secondary effect...that of increasing the sensitivity of her already extremely responsive breasts.

      Despite her climaxes, her nipples remained semi-erect and achingly tender and Gemma knew only too well that a single caress or kiss to her ringed buds would send blistering arousal surging through her body.

      Alone in the darkened lounge and bound inescapably to the pole at her spine, Gemma's eyes grew round in the knowledge that she was no longer in command of her own body, or of her Fate. Both now lay in the hands of The Corporation and it was they, not she, who would decide how and when and even if, their slave would be made to give or receive pleasure.

      Gemma had, and would never have, a say in the matter. She was the slave and as such, was simply required to obey. Nothing more, but definitely nothing less!

      The harsh reality of her situation, hard though it was for her to accept, was strangely comforting, for she had no other option and nothing she could possibly say or do could affect the fact of her captivity. For as long as she was enslaved, she must try to forget her previous life, forget that she was once free, forget about the choices and rights she had once enjoyed and just do her utmost to avoid punishment by obeying and pleasing her Masters for as long as it took!

      It was a hard, hard decision to be forced to take, but Gemma was a realist and made herself confront and accept the inevitable. She could not fight ropes and chains and riding crops, and would suffer if she tried, so she must obey and become the slave her Masters desired....no matter how difficult or humiliating that course of action might be!

      Her decision made, Gemma relaxed as best she could and allowed her mind to replay the day's events, a glow of pleasure warming her belly as she remembered being carried into the room on the shoulders of her Masters and the touch of many hands on her helpless body. Shameful memories, certainly, but deliciously erotic for a tightly bound slave who accepted her subjugation.

      As Gemma had and did!

      Even the terrible shock of her piercings took on a different light as Gemma surrendered to powers far stronger than herself and her belly swirled deliciously as she visualised how vulnerable and desirable she must have looked to her Masters as her naked body was adorned with the rings of their ownership of her.

      Trembling with the sexual heat generated by her own imagination, the tinkling bells at her breasts telling of her excitement, Gemma smiled behind her gag as she lived again the shameful ecstasy of being aroused and taken by the unknown Master who had used her for his pleasure and then simply re-tied her and left her alone!

      Cruel, arrogant, totally dominant, he had been all these things, but she had still submitted utterly to him and revelled in her own powerlessness!

      Immersed in her memories, simmering gently with a pleasurable arousal, Gemma yielded to the truth of her own submissive nature.....

      The doors to the lounge opened and Gemma screwed her eyes shut against the sudden glare as the lights blazed.

      Her Masters, Axel and Nicos strode over and began to untie her, then stood over her as she winced to the discomfort of returning mobility to her stiffened limbs.

      "On your feet, slave. Time you went back to your cell."

      As she obeyed and got to her feet, her bells jingled and she straightened her spine to show off her rings, well aware of her Masters' eyes upon her breasts and their smiles as they saw her display her submission.

      "Forward, slave," and Gemma preceded them from the lounge, her hands clasped together behind her back, even though she was not bound, her body held proudly as she obeyed like the true slave she had finally become.

      In her cell, she knelt motionless as her Masters surveyed her nude, stained body.

      "Your rings and bells suit you, slave," Nicos observed and Gemma lowered her eyes, whispering, "Thank you, Master. Your slave is pleased that you like them."

      "Oh, I do. No soreness or discomfort? Good, good."

      Axel, by contrast, was far less considerate "I hear that you responded as a really hot little slave after we left you in the lounge," he said silkily and Gemma's face blushed a bright crimson as she realised that her subjugation by the unknown man was common knowledge.

      "Well, slave? Is that true?" he persisted and she knew she must answer.

      Dropping her eyes from his predatory gaze, Gemma nodded her head dumbly, admitting her shame as a tremor set the bells at her breasts tinkling gently.

      "Yes," he agreed cruelly, "You were quite good, apparently. Good enough to avoid a cropping for failing to please, anyway," and Gemma's flush deepened even as the grudging compliment sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine.

      Her eyes jerked up to his face as he continued, "It would be a shame if you earned yourself a cropping for failing to please me, now wouldn't it?" and his fingers rubbed slowly at his crotch.

      Gemma knew what he wanted and knew what she must do. She sucked in a deep breath, "May I be permitted to please you, my Master?" she asked humbly.

      Axel chuckled, "You'd better, slave," he warned ominously, but then, as Gemma reached out a hand to unzip him, he snapped, "No! Not with your fingers, slave. With your lips!" and the brunette gulped as she clasped her hands behind her.

      Towering over her, legs spread and his hands on his hips, Axel, her Master, watched as his naked slavegirl struggle to capture the elusive zip between her teeth, her pretty face pressed against his bulging crotch as she fought to obey his order, her fumbling efforts giving evidence of her inexperience and adding to his pleasure and amusement.

      At last, Gemma was able to grip the zip securely and inclined her head to draw it downwards, releasing his large, semi-erect manhood.

      Slowly, remembering the very first time she had pleasured a Master, Roxwell, in this way, she began to kiss and lick delicately at the fleshy shaft, every touch of her lips and tongue having its effect until he grew iron hard, thrusting rigidly from his thicket of pubic hair and twitching to every caress of her soft lips.

      Secretly thrilled by her success, Gemma pursed her lips into an "O" and took him into her mouth, tasting and smelling again the salty musk of a man, a Master, she must satisfy. Kneeling before her Master, her face pressed to his groin, mouth and lips working to please him, Gemma didn't even try to deny the deliciously submissive arousal she felt and concentrated on sucking and licking his flesh to give him the climax he wanted and which she fervently wished to give him.

      His strong hands gripped her hair, pressing her face tight to his belly and she spluttered helplessly, her cheeks bulging as his throbbing maleness filled every crevice of her mouth. Instinctively she tried to draw back, her hands coming from behind her spine to try to lever her away.

      A squeal of pain burst from her nose as a crop cracked across her buttocks bringing flaring heat.

      "Replace your hands, slave. You were not given permission to move!"

      It was her Master, Nicos' voice from behind her and Gemma's belly filled with churning need as his calm command and his stinging crop forced her to obey.

      At the mercy of her two Masters and their inflexible discipline, Gemma dared not resist and redoubled her efforts, her tongue and lips squeezing and working furiously as Axel grew even larger in her mouth as his climax neared its peak. His hips bucked massively, once, twice and then again and Gemma's mouth filled with his hot salty spend as he came and came, her throat working desperately as his seed jetted and pulsed, some escaping past her pursed lips to dribble down her chin and over her heaving breasts.

      His deep groan of fulfilment accompanied Gemma's gasps as he climaxed and her belly burned with delicious warmth as she savoured the submissive joy of pleasuring a Master in the most intimate way possible.

      Axel pulled her face from his belly, "Not bad, slave," he grated, but his eyes glinted with pleasure, and his reddened face told Gemma that her performance had been far better than his words admitted, "Yes, not bad at all. You like oral Nicos, do you want to give her a try? She's really pretty good for a new slave."

      "So I saw, my friend," Nicos replied good humouredly and Gemma blushed with pride and embarrassment, "But I shall wait until she visits my yacht and I can enjoy the many talents she undoubtedly possesses in the open air and sunshine."

      Gemma could not control the gasp of excitement his words brought from her and Nicos smiled knowingly, "Ah, slave, you like that idea, I see. That is good. I shall look forward to it...as, no doubt, will my crew and my guests...." and his dark eyes bored into Gemma's as her bells tinkled softly to the trembles which shook her body.

      Axel zipped himself up, "Suit yourself, Nicos. Come on, let's leave her now. Those piercings have still got to finish healing and when they have she'll be going on to Alicia and Lydia."

      "True Axel. I would not mind being present for that. They have quite a reputation for being...imaginative...and I am sure it will be most entertaining. At least for them. Farewell for now, slave, I will see you again, quite soon," and the dark haired Cypriot Master turned away.

      "Yeah. The day after tomorrow, slave. That's when you'll be picked up to go to Alicia's," Axel told her, then he too turned away.

      The door swung closed and Gemma heard the bolts slide across. She was alone and imprisoned and in two days, she would be the slave of two hard, demanding Mistresses.

      Her belly kicked powerfully as she wondered what lay in store. Lydia was the surgeon who had pierced and ringed her nipples and Alicia had told Gemma that she would be taught to please Mistresses as well as Masters!

      Two women...two Mistresses...and imaginative ones, at that!

      Gemma shivered with anxiety and anticipation, her bells jingling musically.

      She would inevitably be made to submit to them both.

      Dominant females themselves, how would they treat a submissive female?

      Would they be kinder than men...or even tougher?

      Gemma had no way of knowing...not until the day after tomorrow!

CHAPTER 9                                                   5994

      It stood on the driveway outside Axel's home, looking like an ordinary wooden crate, about three feet long on all sides and with no distinguishing markings. To any casual observer it would have appeared quite unremarkable, with nothing to separate it from the thousands of other similar crates used every day to transport goods about the world. To any casual observer that is, who was unaware that what he or she was looking at was, in fact, a carefully designed and thoroughly tested method of transferring slavegirls from one location to another in safety and with absolute discretion. Had the walls of the box been transparent, rather than of surprisingly thick plywood backed by several inches of sound deadening foam rubber, the same observer would have been able to see that the crate contained a naked slavegirl, gagged into silence and bound into immobility!

      Gemma sat on the padded floor of the crate, her legs half bent, knees and ankles lashed firmly together, webbing straps to top, bottom and sides of the crate preventing the slightest movement of her lower limbs. Further straps, equally tight, held her at hips, waist, chest, neck and forehead, while her wrists and elbows were clamped rigidly to the sides of the box by yet more webbing, reducing to zero her chances of attracting unwanted attention to her plight. The broad black gag strap covering her face from nose to chin and its attached leather cylinder wedged deep between her parted jaws, reduced her loudest protests to stifled mumbles and even these were soaked up by the thick foam rubber sound proofing of her mobile prison.

      Sealed into the crate by Masters impervious to her arguments and pleas, Gemma could hear and see nothing and was quite unable to move or make any noise that might alert a passerby and could only wait with as much patience as she possessed for the crate to be opened and her bonds to be released. Where that would be, and when, and by whom, she could only speculate and the knowledge that she was entirely helpless, as well as completely naked, fuelled both her anxieties and her steadily increasing sense of masochistic arousal. Her Masters had told her that she was to be taken to her new Mistresses, Alicia and Lydia, but crated as she was, her actual destination could be anywhere and the uncertainty added to the ferment building in her belly.

      What if they had not been telling the truth? What if the crate was unsealed to reveal her nudity to complete strangers? An Arab sheikh's harem, or a Japanese geisha house, or a South American slave ranch? The possibilities were endless and her mind ran riot, conjuring up more and more outrageous scenarios, each worse than the last, but each shamefully arousing as Gemma envisioned herself in ever stricter bondage and sexual servitude!

      Sitting on the crate, unaware of the turmoil seething in the brain and body of their imprisoned captive, Axel and Nicos chatted desultorily as they awaited the arrival of Gemma's new Mistresses.

      Axel patted the crate with a huge hand, "Good design, this. Much better than the old model. Can't hear a thing," and he chuckled softly.

      "Mmm," Nicos agreed, "Better securing straps, too. She couldn't move a muscle. No chance of her wriggling around and somebody wondering what all the noise is about," his dark eyes glittered with humour as he remembered Gemma's wide brown eyes staring up at him as the lid closed over her.

      Axel nodded, then looked up as a small panel truck turned into the driveway and stopped, Lydia and Alicia stepping down from the cab.

      "Hi, guys. That for us?" Alicia was in a very good mood and the two men smiled back at her as she indicated the crate.

      "That's it. One crate and contents, all ready for delivery. Do you want a hand?"

      Lydia frowned, "We can manage," she said shortly and the men exchanged glances before standing back and letting the women carry on.

      Even with Gemma inside, the crate wasn't all that heavy and the two Mistresses soon had it loaded into the van.

      "Right, we're all set. Thanks. See you at the party next month," and the women climbed aboard and drove slowly off.

      In the back, Gemma felt the vibrations of the engine and knew she was on her way and her belly churned as she was transported towards an uncertain, but unavoidable, future....  

      "I see that Lydia still has no time for men, then," Nicos said slowly, smiling as the van passed out of sight.

      "Yes," Axel agreed, "No change there. She still likes girls and the more submissive and obedient the better."

      "Don't we all, my friend, don't we all. And Gemma is a slave, is she not?"

      "She certainly is and Lydia will make sure she lives up to the highest possible standards. I wish her luck, she's going to need it!"     

      It was about an hour after that conversation took place that Gemma felt the van stop, reverse a short distance, then stop again and the engine vibrations die away. Wherever she had been taken, she had arrived and she sucked in a deep, calming breath, wondering what she would be faced with when her crate was opened. She felt herself lifted and carried a short distance, then felt a bump as the crate was put down, followed by a sensation of increased weight. It dawned on her at once. She was in a lift, going up. The trip took only seconds, then she was lifted, moved and put down for the second time.

      She listened intently for any clue to her whereabouts, but the sound deadening in the crate worked both ways and she could not hear a thing. Minutes slipped by and still nothing happened, until finally the hinged top of her prison began to open.

      Panting through flared nostrils, her body trembling and her bells tinkling softly, Gemma saw the faces of her new captors.

      Alicia and Lydia, her Mistresses, stared down at their helplessly bound slave and their lips curved into cruel smiles as their cold eyes inspected every exposed inch of Gemma's defenceless body and  checked the tightness of her bondage.

      Gemma gazed up at her Mistresses and gulped down an icy lump that rose to her throat as she saw the wolfish smiles on their faces. She had wondered if Mistresses would be less harsh and demanding than Masters....and saw her answer in the anticipatory gleam in their eyes! There would be no relaxation of the discipline and obedience demanded of her and Gemma knew it instantly.

      Alicia chuckled throatily, "Welcome to your new home, slavegirl. I'm sure the three of us will get on splendidly."

      "Provided you do exactly as we tell you, when we tell you!" Lydia's tone was uncompromising, the unspoken threat clear to Gemma who could not even nod her head to signify her understanding.

      Alicia chuckled again, "Now, now, Lydia. Let's not frighten her too much. I'm sure she knows what she has to do. If not, I know you have ways of reminding her. And so do I, but let's not worry about that at the moment," she flashed a smile at the helpless slavegirl, but Gemma was not fooled. The smile meant nothing, certainly not that Gemma would be permitted the tiniest laxity. Other Masters had smiled, too.....and then punished her!

      "Now then, slave, listen carefully. You are in my penthouse and it's fifteen floors up, so don't even think about climbing down. The lift we brought you up in needs a key to operate it and the emergency exit is a locked steel door. There is no-one else on this floor and the one below is all machinery and plantrooms, so nobody will hear you if you shout for help. Oh, and you might note that this is the tallest building for several miles, so there's no point hoping someone will see you if you try to attract attention. You are here, we are here and you're going to stay here until we let you go. Get used to it."

      Gemma's spirits sank as the blonde Alicia spoke. The two Mistresses seemed to have thought of everything and Gemma realised she was just as much a prisoner as she had been in all of her other Masters' homes.

      Her depression was joined by a growing fear as the dark haired Lydia bent low and stared into her eyes from only a few inches away, "That's right. You can't get away, slave, so you had better behave. I told you when I pierced your breasts that you belonged to me and my colleagues and I warned you to be obedient when you visited me. Well, here you are and I can assure you that I do not stand any nonsense from my slaves! I expect perfection and if I do not get it, you will suffer!"

      She reached down and Gemma gave a great whimper of terror as the woman showed her a thin, whippy riding crop and sent it whistling through the air inches above Gemma's naked, cowering flesh.

      "Don't say you haven't been warned, slave," she hissed, "I enjoy making slaves obey me and I won't mind how often you need to be disciplined," and she gave a mirthless laugh that sent chills of horror racing up Gemma's naked spine.

      Mistress Lydia was quite obviously telling the truth and Gemma didn't doubt for a moment that she would be ruthlessly punished for any failings on her part. Her belly surged with a mixture of fright and arousal and thoughts of disobedience or resistance never even crossed her mind. Gemma knew what she had become and surrendered without a fight to the overwhelming power and dominance of her Mistresses, her brown eyes softening and dropping from the stern gaze of Mistress Lydia as she submitted.

      "Good, that's settled," Lydia snorted, "Now we all know where we stand. I'm going to have a drink. Do you want one, Alicia?"

      "Lovely. Scotch and water, please," and she leaned on the top of the crate, smiling down at Gemma as Lydia made the drinks and fetched them over.

      With the Scotch in her right hand, she reached down casually and Gemma shuddered as the ring through her left nipple was lifted. Electric arousal shot through her breast and she squealed hopelessly, unable to hide her reaction as her Mistress toyed with the steel circlet, Gemma's excruciatingly sensitive nipple becoming rock hard in seconds!

      "Hmm. Interesting," the blonde observed and Gemma moaned bitterly, knowing her body had betrayed her and that her weakness would be catalogued for future use against her.

      Between her bound legs, a moist warmth grew as she was aroused, but she could not defend herself or prevent its insidious growth and felt her will power draining away as she succumbed to the sensual pleasure of inevitable submission.

      Lydia watched, a cruel smile at her lips and then followed suit, her slim fingers toying with the ring at Gemma's right breast, the captive slave vibrating in her bonds as her torment doubled.

      "Of course," Lydia said softly, "Nipple rings can have other uses," and she gave the ring between her fingers a vicious tweak.

      Gemma's fingers clawed vainly, a shrill gasp torn from her nose as the cruel twist sent a sharp jolt of pain spearing through her.

      "They can be most useful for disciplining and training purposes," Lydia went on calmly, giving a second tweak and Gemma reacted exactly as before, her eyes wide with horror and terrified understanding as she realised exactly what Lydia meant.

      She could be controlled with one finger, the merest flick of her Mistress's wrist more than enough to ensure her absolute and instantaneous obedience!

      The shock was devastating, Gemma had never even imagined the possibility that her nipple rings could be used for such a purpose! The sudden revelation that they could be...and would be...lit a massive fire of pure submissive lust in Gemma's swirling belly and she juddered wildly to the flaring need imposed upon her!

      "So I see," Alicia grinned as she recognised Gemma's uncontrollable response, "Two birds with one stone. Arousal or discipline, or, of course, both at the same time. I like it," and her fingers interspersed gentle, arousing caresses of Gemma's ringed nipple with artful tugs to send a devilish mixture of overwhelming pleasure and painful twinges through her shuddering, moaning and utterly vulnerable captive.

      Held by her implacable bonds, the webbing imprinting its marks on her soft skin, Gemma's passion built to a quivering peak as her two Mistresses combined to torment her beyond bearing, sweat springing out all over her body as she struggled vainly to free herself and move in order to ease the terrible, yet delicious burning of her wild arousal!

      Unable to reach the ultimate release of the orgasm so close within her, Gemma mumbled frantic pleas into her gag, begging to be made to submit, her eyes filled with the humble desire of a slavegirl who knew her pleasure was dependent on the whim of her Mistresses.

      "Randy little bitch," Lydia chuckled, "You want it, don't you?" and Gemma whimpered in need, her desperation all too obvious to the brunette.

      "Will you promise to be a good little slave if we give you what you want, eh? Will you promise to be obedient and docile and humble if we make you come? Will you crawl on your knees and beg to be allowed to please us, slave? Well, will you?" Lydia's mocking taunts brought a vivid scarlet flush to Gemma's gagged cheeks, because Gemma was shamefully aware that she would do all of those things, and more, to earn the climax she needed so desperately.

      She could not answer, but her eyes mirrored the truth and Lydia smiled triumphantly.

      "I do believe you will, slave," she laughed, "Very well, we shall let you come....but then it will be our turn and you will honour all of your promises, won't you...."

      It was not a question and both Gemma and her Mistresses knew it and anticipated it with mixed feelings, the two women with undisguised pleasure and Gemma with serious misgivings.

      She had never pleasured a woman before...but she was going to have to very soon.

      Working as a team, Alicia and Lydia swiftly released the straps holding Gemma, then, before her stiffened limbs regained their strength and flexibility, rolled her from the crate, flipped her over onto her belly and locked her wrists behind her back. Face down on thick, soft carpet, Gemma only had time to see that she lay at one end of a huge, modern, expensively furnished apartment, the far wall an expanse of glass looking out on to a large garden patio with a superb view of a city and, farther away, green, tree covered hills.

      None of which was the slightest use to her, because she didn't recognise any of it.

      Her speculations ended as Alicia commanded, "Get up, slave and walk to that door," and she rose to her feet, feeling arousal coiling in her belly as she obeyed.

      She jerked, yelping in shock as Lydia's crop sliced across her buttocks and the woman snapped, "Gracefully, slave, always gracefully!"

      Gemma forced her body erect, pulling her shoulders back as she had been trained and did her best to ignore the smarting of her bottom as she moved across the floor, her hips swaying fluidly as she placed each foot carefully in front of the other, exactly as catwalk models do.

      The room she entered was a bedroom, probably Alicia's to judge by the number of cosmetics and perfumes littering the dressing table, nearly as large as the room she had just left, but, even so, dominated by a giant Empress sized bed, its corners marked by turned brass posts as thick as her thigh.

      Worryingly, dangling from a brass hook above the bed, Gemma spotted a familiar object she had hoped to have seen the last of. A Devil's Palm, its five broad thongs declaring its purpose unmistakably and its position, within easy reach of the occupant of the bed, showing that it was no mere decoration.

      Gemma knew why it was there and remembered vividly what it could do.

      "I see you recognise my little toy, slavegirl," Alicia murmured softly, "I find that having it in plain sight encourages slaves to be obedient."

      Gemma could well believe it, then realised that her Mistress was not only talking about her. "Slaves" she had said and Gemma shivered, knowing that she was not the first enslaved female to share Alicia's bed and that her Mistress would not accept Gemma's shame or inexperience as an excuse should she fail to be pleasing.

      "Get on the bed, face up and spread your legs."

      Gemma gulped but had no choice but to comply and stared anxiously down past her naked, ringed breasts as she spread her thighs and exposed herself humiliatingly.

      Metal clinked and she fought to hold her position and avoid being punished as her Mistresses stretched steel chains from each bed post and clipped them to her ankle cuffs, the slack in the links only allowing Gemma to partly close her legs.

      "Now your arms, slave and then we can get better acquainted," Lydia's sarcasm confirmed Gemma's fears. Her Mistresses intended to spreadeagle her and she realised at once that when her wrists were chained to the posts at the top of the bed, the slack in the chains at her ankles would be lost. She would be stretched out flat, like a giant starfish, her body completely open and exposed.

      The thought of what was to happen to her and the knowledge that she would be severely punished if she tried to resist, was frighteningly exciting and as she was aided to sit up and her wrist cuffs released, Gemma shivered to every touch of her Mistresses' hands on her bare flesh.

      Conditioned to respond exactly as she was, Gemma couldn't control the waves of delicious arousal which washed through her body as Alicia took her left wrist, Lydia her right and pulled her arms up and out towards the top corners of the massive bed until the chains to her ankles drew taut.  Arching her neck, she watched in fascination as chains were clipped to her wrist cuffs and then carefully shortened, to hold her limbs fully extended and her body hugely spread.

      With her Mistresses looking on, Gemma tested her bondage, satisfying herself and them that she was most securely fixed with no hope of freeing herself, then lay passive, her eyes filled with longing and a humble acceptance of their power over her.

      Lydia seated herself on the side of the bed and Gemma's belly flesh fluttered as the woman's strong hand descended on her left hip, "So, slavegirl," she said quietly, "We have you now, don't we?"

      Gemma nodded eagerly and her Mistress laughed to see a slave's desire so clearly demonstrated, "Well then, perhaps we should do something about it," and her fingers slid inwards across the hot curve of Gemma's belly to the thick tangle of bushy curls marking the entrance to her sex...and then paused.

      Gemma's fingers and toes curled in her frustration and she gave a soft pleading groan, which turned to a gasp as Alicia sat down on the other side of the bed and her hand, fingers outstretched in a fan, dropped lightly onto Gemma's taut right breast.

      For long seconds, the two female dominants kept their slave waiting, their hands unmoving and Gemma whimpered in unbearable need as she was forced to learn again that her desires, no matter how strong, were not hers to satisfy!

      "Never forget, slave," Alicia whispered, "Who are the Mistresses and who is the slave," and the tips of her slim fingers brushed across Gemma's upthrust and achingly sensitive nipple.

      Instantly responsive, Gemma's hopelessly available body juddered massively, her nipple hardening to a quivering peak as blistering arousal surged through her in obedience to the touch of her Mistress.

      Alicia chuckled throatily, "Very good, slavegirl," and her chained victim moaned softly, unable to resist or deny the submissive desire kindled in her trembling belly.

      A strangled shriek leaked past the thick gag sealing Gemma's jaws as her other Mistress, Lydia, allowed her fingers to toy with the soft, pinkly engorged flesh of Gemma's labia, the exquisitely tender lips of her sex drawn back and held wide open and defenceless by her strict bondage. Gasping with horror and shame and furious need, Gemma struggled to raise her head and stared down past her naked breasts to the wide "V" of her spread thighs and the skilled fingers of the Mistress who controlled and tormented her with such unbearable pleasure.

      Lydia's eyes glittered with triumph, her perfect teeth bared in a wide grin and Gemma gulped in delightful fear, knowing that her Mistress relished the power she commanded and that she would not be satisfied until Gemma was forced to surrender unconditionally.

      Gemma's head fell back, her brain reeling and, as she did so, her twin Mistresses began their irresistible assault on her helpless nudity.

      Alicia's fingers captured her breasts, rolling and squeezing Gemma's nipples, tweaking her nipple rings until the hapless brunette writhed and twisted in her bonds, the combination of sensual pleasure and bitter-sweet pain sending her spinning out of control, while the delicate fingers of Lydia explored and caressed and probed the very core of Gemma's femininity, sliding over and around and into the wet, slick heat of her sex to send overwhelming arousal flooding through her contorting belly.

      Gemma could not have resisted for a single moment, even if she had wanted to and her spreadeagled body juddered and bucked madly against her securing chains as she was driven higher and higher in a sexual frenzy she could not control, her body bathed in sweat and her screams and squeals and pleas for mercy unheard and unheeded by Mistresses who were determined upon her absolute and total subjugation and knew exactly how to force it from her!

      Gemma climaxed shatteringly, great explosions of love juices crashing into her belly as she came, her muffled wail of surrender punctuated by gasping snorts as she sucked huge gulps of air through her nose, her belly pulsing and kicking to the frightening power of her enforced orgasm as her body gave up its tribute to the erotic skills and dominance of her ruthless Mistresses.

      Slumped in her bonds, helpless prey to the fury of the climax raging through her, Gemma wept for shame and joy and despair at the slavegirl she had become, loving and yet horrified by her captivity and the humiliating ecstasy of her inevitable submissions, unable to deny the bursting pleasure of her stupendous orgasms while still deeply ashamed of the responses so easily forced from her trained body....but, all the while realising that she had never, ever, known such passion, such desire, such wonderful, blissful pleasure as she found when bound as the helpless captive of strong, utterly dominant Masters!

      Collared and ringed as a slavegirl, she knew she had no choice..and knew, too, that with every passing day, her will to escape and be free once more, grew less and less until she was no longer be sure, even in her own mind, that freedom was what she really wanted....

      Putting her doubts to the back of her mind, Gemma relaxed in the hazy after glow of her climax, her belly glowing with warmth and the memory of unutterable pleasure.

      The touch of hands on her limbs and the relaxation of her bonds brought her swimming back up from her near doze and as her chains were released, she clambered stiffly to her knees and presented her body as she had been trained, remaining quite still as Lydia padlocked a single, long chain to her right ankle and Alicia unbuckled her gag and pulled it from her mouth.

      Casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, Gemma's two Mistresses shed their clothes and, naked, joined their naked slave on the huge bed, lying one on each side of her kneeling form.

      "Now then, slavegirl," Lydia said briskly, "Your turn to please us."

      "Yes," Alicia agreed, "And don't forget, my little toy is still up there if we do not find your performance satisfactory," and she nodded meaningfully at the Devil's Palm hanging from its hook above the bed.

      Gemma looked up and swallowed nervously, then looked down at her two Mistresses, calmly waiting for her to please them both.

      Alicia to her left, slim and elegant, her fingers intertwined behind her blonde head, blue eyes gleaming with anticipation, and Lydia, shorter, dark haired, more solidly built with larger, heavier breasts, propped up on her right elbow, her face filled with determination.

      "Mistresses," Gemma began anxiously, "I..I..don't know h..how. I..I've n..never.."

      "Be quiet, slavegirl," Lydia snapped waspishly, "We don't need you to speak, do we, eh, Alicia? Just get on with it!"

      Alicia nodded cheerfully and Gemma trembled, realising that she had no option but to obey.

      Slowly, she reached down and allowed her extended fingers to cup the breasts of her Mistresses, her thumbs pressing and then rolling their nipples just as her own nipples had been played with so many times.  

      It should have been no surprise to Gemma that the two women reacted to having their nipples caressed in exactly the same way that she always did, with breathy gasps of arousal and wriggles of pleasure as their crinkled buttons began to harden, but, somehow, it did and her own eyes widened with astonishment and delight at her success as her Mistresses responded. Emboldened, she experimented cautiously, using all of her fingers to squeeze and flick and knead their breasts, enjoying the soft squeals and archings of their bodies as her efforts had their effect.

      "A little harder, slave."

      "Ooh, yes, that's good."

      "Now my other breast. Gently, gently!"

      "Kiss it, slave. I want to feel your lips," that was Lydia and Gemma flushed but did not dare to disobey. Her lips trapped the brunette's rigid nipple, nibbling gently and Lydia's body vibrated like a dynamo as her hands clamped around Gemma's head, holding the slavegirl's face to her breast.

      "Open your mouth!"

      Gemma's flush deepened, but it was far too late to pretend modesty and she gave a mental shrug, bowing to the inevitable.

      Lydia's erect nipple slipped into her mouth, delightfully hard and warm against her tongue and Gemma, to her surprise and embarrassment, felt a shiver of definite arousal ripple up her spine as she licked and sucked the fleshy button.

      With her face pressed to Lydia's ample breast and her right hand busy arousing Lydia's right nipple, Gemma felt her left hand moved downward....to the moist warmth of Alicia's sex. The blonde's fingers pressed Gemma's into place and, for the very first time in her life, Gemma felt the velvet softness of another woman's most intimate and tender spot.

      "Caress me, slavegirl," Alicia ordered throatily, then as Gemma hesitated, added, "Do it, slave, or I shall use my little toy on your bottom."

      There was no doubt Alicia meant what she said and Gemma capitulated at once, well aware that she would be given no second chance. Her slim fingers slid down the moist, fleshy cleft of her Mistress, slowly and clumsily at first, then with growing confidence as the blonde gasped and wriggled to her touch, Alicia's thighs parting to allow Gemma to penetrate between the soft lips of her labia.

      "Now me, slavegirl," Lydia demanded, releasing her grip on Gemma's head and the enslaved brunette sat back on her heels, her right hand going to the joint of Lydia's thighs and applying delicate caresses to the sensitive flesh between her second Mistress's muscular legs, even as her fingers continued their work on her first Mistress.

      Kneeling between the two dominants, hearing their moans and gasps of pleasure and watching their bodies writhe, Gemma's embarrassment vanished, replaced by a trilling sense of power and control as the two women arched and contorted beneath her hands, responding to the demands of her fingers as if they, not she, were the slaves!

      Greatly daring, Gemma took her hands from their bellies and tweaked the nipples so shamelessly displayed by her Mistresses, her lips parting in a broad grin as the women whimpered in unison, then sent her fingers burrowing between their thighs once more to bring groans of unbearable pleasure from their lips.

      Enslaved for months, never once permitted to disobey or control her own fate, the sudden, unexpected power was an enormous turn on for Gemma and she felt her own groin grow slick with the juices of her arousal as she tormented her erstwhile Mistresses and savoured their need and the helpless responses her touch forced from them. Again and again she sent her fingers from bellies to breasts and back again, until her Mistresses..her victims..moaned in delicious frustration and their hips thrust up to meet her fingers, offering their bodies to her shamelessly.

      Gemma was in Paradise, controlling two dominants with the merest flick of her fingers, no longer the helpless submissive but, temporarily at least, in charge!

      She knew it could not last, knew that she would soon be the slave once more, but while it did last, she savoured every moan, every gasp, every wild judder and contortion of her Mistress's bodies, storing up the memories against the inevitable moment when the two women would re-impose their dominance over her.

      At last, bathed in sweat, Lydia twisted her body away from Gemma's attentions, seized her wrists and locked her cuffs together behind her back

      She gripped Gemma's jaw in her strong fingers and stared deep into her eyes, "Very good, slavegirl. You show more promise than we had imagined. So far, you have been pleasing, but now it is time for you to finish the job and satisfy us both," she paused and chuckled softly, "With your lips!"

      Gemma gulped and licked her dry lips, then watched in growing anxiety as her Mistress reached up and took the Devil's Palm from its hook above the bed.

      With a cruel grin, Lydia trailed the five leather straps through her fingers, "Well, slave? What are you waiting for? Satisfy your Mistress," and she gestured towards Alicia who lay on the bed, legs spread and a predatory smile on her face.

      Gemma knew what she must do...and did it.

      Shuffling on her knees, she moved between Alicia's parted thighs and bent forward until her lips nuzzled against the blonde's mass of curly pubic hair. Alicia's hands gripped the back of her head, guiding her and Gemma swallowed hard, flushing redly as the blonde instructed her in the art of female love making. Under orders, she kissed her Mistress's smooth, moist labia, allowed her lips to nibble at the hard, protruding nub of her clitoris, trailed her tongue up and down the full length of her palpitating sex and, finally, sent it spearing into the depths of her belly to trigger an explosive climax as the blonde squealed with devastating pleasure and her sweet, hot, only vaguely salty love juices flooded into her belly and sex and over Gemma's embedded tongue and lips!

      Sated, a beatific smile on her face, Alicia pulled Gemma's face from her groin and gave her a long, sensual kiss, her tongue exploring Gemma's mouth and adding to the slavegirl's desire and confusion as she felt her arousal swirl hotter despite her shame at being forced to make love to another woman.

      Gemma knew she wasn't a lesbian. She wasn't....was she? She hadn't been...but, then, before her captivity, she hadn't been a slavegirl, either! Whatever the truth was, one fact remained unchanged...while she wore the rings and collar of a slavegirl, she must be whatever her Masters and Mistresses demanded...and she could not deny the flaring heat of arousal which filled her belly!

      While Gemma debated, her Mistresses acted, changing places and she forced her mind back to her current situation as Lydia reclined on the bed and smiled cruelly up into her eyes.

      "I want pleasure, slave," she hissed, "And you are going to supply it! Please me, slave, or you will suffer!" and her dark eyes glittered with malice.

      Gemma shivered and then squealed in pain as the terrible Devil's Palm cracked across her unprotected buttocks and stinging heat erupted across her bottom.

      "Yes, Mistress," she yelped, "I will please you, Mistress, truly I will," and she thrust her face down, licking and sucking desperately at the slick, wet core of the brunette's femininity, her only desire, to satisfy her demanding Mistresses and avoid further pain.

      No longer was she in control, no longer the powerful tormentor, able to toy with her Mistress's bodies and bring gasps and pleas from them. The tables had turned with a vengeance and Gemma struggled feverishly to be pleasing, as the humble, submissive and helpless slavegirl she again was.

      Twice more the stinging lash descended and twice more Gemma screamed as her flinching buttocks were striped with reddened heat, each time her lips and tongue redoubling their efforts to give her Mistress what she demanded, each cruel blow reinforcing her abject submission and increasing the turmoil bubbling in her belly as she surrendered ever more deeply to her subjugation.

      Lydia's belly pulsed violently as she reached her climax and Gemma lapped helplessly at the sweetly scented outpourings of her Mistress's body as the brunette's sex throbbed against her lips and she squealed in ecstasy as she came and came.

      Gemma's brown eyes filled with tears of pain and shame as she knelt helpless while her Mistress recovered, but she knew better than to speak without permission and waited patiently until her Mistresses chose to address her.

      Fully dressed, the two dominants smiled down at their naked captive.

      "Congratulations, slavegirl. A very satisfactory performance."

      "Indeed. You show considerable promise. A few weeks in our hands and you will be even better."

      "Yes, very much better. Nevertheless, a good start for a first attempt. It was your first time, was it not, slavegirl?"

      Gemma lowered her head, a deep red flush colouring her face and neck, "Yes, Mistress," she whispered softly, "I h..had n..never...."

      "No, we thought not. Never mind, you will get better as we train you."

      Gemma dared not look up, for she feared that her face would betray the helpless arousal the words sent racing through her body. She had already been trained to please Masters with her mouth and now she must learn to please Mistresses in the same way!

      Ordered from the bed, she knelt humbly as the chain from her ankle was removed, shortened and then locked to her collar, holding her kneeling at the head of the bed, her arms still securely cuffed behind her.

      "It is late, slavegirl. Get some rest. We will continue with your training in the morning."

      As her Mistresses left the room, Gemma stared miserably after them, her belly swirling with unsatisfied heat. She was hungry and in need, but she was their slavegirl and dared not protest. Sadly, she lay down on the carpet and made herself as comfortable as her bonds and the hard floor allowed, resigning herself to the discomfort and frustration.

      Her Mistresses had not chosen to ease her needs and she could not. She must simply endure.

      As her eyelids slowly closed, Gemma visualised the training she was to receive. Training which would leave her no excuse for failing to please either a Master or a Mistress.

      She would be expected, and forced if necessary, to serve and satisfy any member of The Consortium and failure would be ruthlessly punished!

      There would be no mercy and no escape! Not until her "contract" was complete!

CHAPTER 10 

      Lights blazed in all of the rooms of Alicia's penthouse apartment and strings of fairy lights turned the garden patio beyond the open glass double doors into a mysterious blend of light and deep, flickering shadows as the gentle, warm breeze set the lanterns swaying.

      Inside, several low tables groaned under the weight of drinks and food and a top quality CD player provided a background of soft music as Gemma, naked apart from her rings and collar and cuffs, hurried from one spot to another, checking to make certain that the meticulous instructions of her Mistress had been carried out to the letter.

      In the weeks she had spent with Alicia and Lydia, Gemma had learned that it did not pay to overlook even the smallest detail of the women's wishes and her lips moved silently as she reviewed the arrangements, ensuring that absolutely everything was as perfect as she could make it.

      It was not as if her Mistresses were particularly cruel, but they were exceedingly strict and Gemma's buttocks had often felt the Devil's Palm and the crop when she had failed to satisfy and she had no wish for the experience to be repeated.

      Satisfied that all was well, Gemma dropped to her knees, wrists crossed behind her back and thighs widely spread as Mistress Alicia strode into the room, her keen gaze sweeping around the room, then settling on her naked slavegirl.

      "Perfect," she said, "Well done," and Gemma allowed herself to relax slightly, relieved that the blonde had not been able to find a fault and use it as an excuse to punish her.

      "Come with me," and Gemma followed her Mistress obediently into the bathroom.

      "Wrists up. You know what to do," the blonde said casually and Gemma felt the familiar warmth of arousal stir in her belly as she raised her arms and allowed her Mistress to lock her wrists together on each side of the sturdy shower head above her. Stretched almost on tip toe, Gemma's body ran with streams of water as her Mistress worked up a soapy lather on a large sponge and the slavegirl shivered with anticipation as she waited to be bathed. It was a regular part of her routine, but none the less erotic for that and as Alicia turned off the water and began to run the slippery sponge over every inch of Gemma's nude charms, the stretched brunette panted for breath through flaring nostrils as her Mistress's hands slid easily over her breasts and ribs and belly, then dropped to soap her buttocks and thighs and between her slim legs.

      Gemma's eyes widened as her arousal built and her Mistress chuckled softly, knowing exactly what her touch was doing to her slave and knowing, too, that Gemma would not dare to move or protest. She had protested...once...but had soon been taught the error of her ways as Alicia had left her secured, fetched the Devil's Palm and proceeded to brand her defenceless body with a dozen stinging stripes as Gemma had screamed and twisted in vain efforts to avoid the punishment.

      That had been Gemma's first..and last..attempt to object and they both knew that she would never try again.

      Coated in a slippery mass of scented bubbles, Gemma rose and fell on her toes, the bells at her ringed breasts jingling musically as her Mistress took advantage of that knowledge to toy with her tender nipples and explore the soapy, slippery recesses of her sex, building her slavegirl's passion and savouring the submissive need so evident in her brown eyes.

      Gemma's fingers fluttered vainly, as if trying to escape, but she rose onto her toes, the better to part her thighs and give her Mistress access and the blonde chuckled again, only too well aware of what her slavegirl wanted.

      "Not yet, slavegirl," she whispered cruelly and the brunette squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she was forced to endure the lusts coiling in her belly while her hair was washed.

      "I want you looking your best tonight," Alicia told her and Gemma shivered, knowing that there was to be a party that evening, but not knowing what part she was going to play in it.

      She did not know for certain, but had an awful feeling that she would be central to whatever was going to happen...and quite unable to refuse!

      As powerful jets of water rinsed her hair and body, she shivered with anticipation, part fearful of the coming ordeal, but also aroused by the prospect.

      As her Mistress dried her with a large, fluffy towel, Gemma's belled nipples jiggled and Alicia smiled as thetinkling bells told of the slavegirl's desire.

      "Relax, slavegirl," Alicia said calmly, "It will be at least half an hour until my guests arrive," but then made her own order impossible to carry out as she leaned forward and planted a firm, wet kiss on each of Gemma's erect nipples.

      Instant heat surged through the captive brunette's belly and she gave a sharp gasp, her legs almost buckling beneath her as her lust soared and she gazed pleadingly at her Mistress, hoping against hope that the woman would take pity on her and give her the climax she longed for.

      Instead, to Gemma's frustration, her Mistress reached up, released her wrists, then immediately re-bound her arms behind her and took her to the bedroom where she dried and brushed her hair until it hung in a dark, shining sweep to her shoulders. Just as she finished, they both heard the lift doors open and were joined seconds later by Gemma's other Mistress, Lydia, a shoe box under her left arm.

      "Hi, Alicia. Good evening, slave."

      "Good evening, Mistress."

      "Well I've got them. Shall we try them straight away?"

      "Mmm, yes. I want to see how they look."

      "Right. Up you get, slave. We've got a present for you."

      Gemma rose to her feet worriedly. Lydia was in a very good mood and that usually meant she had thought of some new way to humiliate her slave.

      Lydia ripped the lid off the box and pulled out the contents and Gemma gaped uncomprehendingly at a gleaming pair of patent leather shoes....but shoes with heels higher than Gemma had ever seen in her life!

      Her Mistress held them up, turning them this way and that so that the lights reflected dazzlingly as she showed Gemma her new footwear.

      "Six inch heels, slavegirl. Specially made for you. And these ankle straps lock with the padlocks so that once they're on, they stay on, you see. Right, give me your foot."     

      Obediently, Gemma raised her leg and allowed the shoe to be slid on, her eyes widening as she felt the height of the heel force her foot into an arch, almost putting her on tip toe.

      Lydia buckled the strap around Gemma's ankle and snapped the small padlock closed, "That's one. Now, give me your other foot."

      As her weight came on to her high heeled shod foot, Gemma tottered and almost fell, unused to the difference heels made to her balance, and was thankful to feel Alicia's arm steadying her.

      She shot her blonde Mistress a grateful smile, then gazed down as the second shoe was fitted and locked on.

      Lydia stood up, grinning, "They look really good, don't you think, Alicia?"

      Gemma stared down. Her Mistress was right, the shoes did look good. Good, and very, very sexy, making her legs seem longer and slimmer....but, already, Gemma could feel an ache starting in her calves, brought on by the stress of her impossibly high heels. What her legs would feel like after an hour or two, didn't bear thinking about, but, aches or no aches, there was no way she would be able to remove the shoes, no matter how uncomfortable she got!

      "I'm going to let go of your arm now, slavegirl. Stand up really straight, that should help you to balance."

      Gemma forced her shoulders back, holding herself as erect as she could and concentrated on not falling over as her Mistresses inspected her.

      "Yes, I like them. They make her taller and make her legs seem longer."

      "Keeps her on her toes. Literally! I love the way she has to tense her calves to keep her balance."

      "And they make her stand straight, which shows off her breasts."

      "Mmm. The men will really like that. They just love high heels on a slavegirl. No clothes, of course, just high heels!" Lydia's mocking laughter brought bright spots of colour to Gemma's cheeks, because she knew her Mistress was quite correct. Masters would enjoy the enforced tension her high heels imposed on her body and she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. Her belly quivered deliciously. She might not be able to do anything, but the men, her Masters, certainly could...and no doubt would!

      "Go into the lounge, slavegirl," Alicia's order broke into Gemma's erotic daydream, "We have to get ready for our guests."

      Concentrating intensely, Gemma made her slow, very careful way from the bedroom, teetering on her precipitous heels, aware of the growing ache in her calves, but strangely excited by the knowledge that in her heels and her nudity and her bondage, she presented a picture that exuded sexuality and would make her irresistible to her Mistresses' guests....

      Irresistible and available, for Gemma had no illusions about the men and women who would be at the party, or what their common interest would be.

      Her belly burned with a slow heat as her Mistresses ordered her to halt beside a low, sturdy coffee table with a thick glass top and her mind raced as she saw a shining steel pole terminating in a steel ring, rising some two feet above the glass at one end.

      "Sit on the table, slave, ankles crossed, facing the post," Lydia's voice was uncompromising and Gemma knew that she had best obey, unless she wanted to meet her Mistresses' guests with fresh whip marks emblazoned across her buttocks.

      The table's surface was cold and Gemma shivered as her flesh met the glass, but the momentary discomfort was instantly forgotten as she looked down at her crossed ankles. The glass on which she sat, was mirrored, reflecting perfectly every recess and crevice of her parted sex! The shock of seeing herself so shamefully exposed, was awful, but not as awful as the realisation, a split second later, that anyone who stood near the table would be treated to the same humiliatingly detailed exhibition of her!

      Horrified, Gemma turned to her Mistresses and her belly kicked powerfully as she saw that they both wore identical cruel smiles.

      "That's right, slavegirl. You're going to be the centrepiece of our little party. You'll give our guests something to look at while they're eating," Alicia said calmly and Gemma shivered wildly, the bells at her nipples betraying the mixture of horror and arousal she felt.

      "Until they decide to eat you, anyway," Lydia added spitefully and the shocked brunette gave a low moan of anguish, uncrossing her legs in preparation for climbing off the table.

      "Keep still, slave!" Alicia's harsh command cut through Gemma's moan like a knife, freezing her in place, "One more sound or one more movement and you'll wish you'd never been born! I mean it, slave! Now get back in position!"

      Gemma's agonised face turned up to her Mistress, but found no trace of sympathy in the blonde's cold eyes and with a shudder of despair, resumed her shameful pose.

      "That's better. Now, not another word!" and the distraught brunette forced herself to keep still as the two dominants lashed her crossed ankles in place to the base of the post with tight black leather straps. Helpless, she leaned forward as a padlock was slipped through the ring on the front of her steel collar and snapped into the ring at the top of the post, holding her bent and unable to straighten and was powerless to resist as a short strap from the rear of her collar was attached to her wrist cuffs, holding her arms high up behind her shoulder blades in a double hammer lock.

      The bells at her ringed nipples jingled continuously as she tested her bondage and found herself utterly helpless and her brown eyes gazed wildly down at the reflected image of her defenceless body. She couldn't move but could see only too clearly her absolute vulnerability and availability to the touch of anyone who cared to arouse or torment her.

      Seconds later, she was unable even to protest or beg for mercy, for a huge, thick gag of leather was forced deep into her mouth, silencing her and preventing even token resistance on her part!

      Secured for the pleasure of her Mistresses and their guests, Gemma trembled wildly as the two women left her to go and change, her eyes seeking vainly for something, anything, to help her and her muscles tensing uselessly against her bonds in her efforts to escape.

      As she had feared, her struggles were fruitless and as the hum of the lift came to her ears, Gemma ceased her futile resistance and summoned up what few defences she had to face the inevitable.

      Her Mistresses, resplendent in long evening dresses, walked past their displayed slavegirl, ignoring her completely as they went to greet their guests and Gemma bit down hard on her gag as she heard the friendly greetings, deep male laughter and softer female voices of the arriving group.

      "Ah, Gemma my dear. How nice to see you again," Roxwell loomed over her, dressed in an immaculate dinner jacket, his deep set eyes drinking in her helpless nudity, "You already know Axel and Nicos, I believe," and Gemma closed her eyes, ashamed, as the giant, dinner jacketed Axel leered at her ringed breasts, "Yes, we've already had the..ah..pleasure of meeting this slave, haven't we, eh, slave?" and he gave a loud snort of laughter.

      "Indeed we have. Good evening, slavegirl," and Nicos gave her a slight bow, impeccable in evening dress.

      Gemma flushed a deep scarlet as Roxwell introduced a fourth man, recognising him instantly as the unknown man who had taken her on the day her breasts had been pierced!

      "This is Steven, girl. One of our little group in The Consortium. He has been away on business, but is now back and has been looking forward to meeting you again."

      Of average height, with brown hair and a friendly, open face, Steven looked nothing like the ruthless Master Gemma knew he was and she dropped her eyes from his steady gaze, remembering how she had begged him to take her. And he had!

      "I've heard good things about you, slavegirl," he said pleasantly, "Let us both hope they are true, because I would not want to be disappointed," and for a brief moment his eyes hardened and Gemma saw the steel behind the easy going exterior. Like each of her other Masters, he would not hesitate to take exactly what he wanted from her and Gemma knew it.

      The arrival of the lift bearing more guests broke up the little group around Gemma and it was some time later that she became aware that she was being scrutinised by a distinguished looking, grey haired man, accompanied by a very tall, very slim redhead dressed in an extremely short, skin tight silk cheongsam, split up the left thigh nearly to her waist. For several moments, the pair simply looked at Gemma's bondage and she coloured, knowing the image she presented and wondering who the two were.

      Alicia strolled over and Gemma's blush deepened as her Mistress offered a glass of champagne to the man, then said casually, "Enjoying the show, Matthew? We think she makes a rather good piece of bondage art, don't you agree?"

      "I certainly do. But tell me, Alicia, is she as obedient as she is pretty? After all, like any slave, her primary purpose is to be functional as well as merely decorative."

      Alicia frowned, "Naturally," she confirmed tartly, "Lydia and I are hardly novices at the training of slavegirls."

      "Of course. I apologise, my dear. May I have your permission to test her initial responses?"

      Gemma's eyes bulged at his casual enquiry and she spluttered into her gag, desperately hoping that her Mistress would refuse.

      Alicia chuckled indulgently, "Well," she began, "We were planning on waiting until after the buffet, but I never could refuse you anything, could I, you old rogue. Oh, very well, I can see that you're itching to test her out. Go on then, but don't blame me if the others get annoyed with you for jumping the gun."

      Matthew's eyes twinkled merrily as he assured her that he wouldn't and Gemma strained hopelessly at her bonds as he and the redhead moved to stand directly in front of her, staring calmly down at her anguished, gagged face.

      "Alicia tells me that you are a fully trained slavegirl," he said softly, "I wonder if you are?"

      Gemma hung her head as much as the post at her throat would permit, her shame intense as his steady, pale blue eyes examined her, but he reached down and took her jaw in his fingers, raising her face until she stared directly up at him.

      "Don't be shy, slavegirl," he admonished gently, "Masters do not permit modesty in their slaves. Your body is excellent and you might be whipped for attempting to hide it from a Master, might you not?" he did not wait for an answer which Gemma couldn't give and she stared numbly at him as he continued, "You are enslaved, but men have always enslaved women. You are merely the latest in a very long line and will most certainly not be the last. If you doubt me, I will prove it to you."

      He turned to his silent companion, "Tell her who and what you are."

      The redhead didn't hesitate for a second, "I am Clarissa and I am a slavegirl," she declared clearly and Gemma's jaw would have dropped open in stunned amazement if she hadn't been gagged.

      Matthew smiled at her astonishment, "Not all slavegirls are ringed and wear steel on their limbs and neck," he told Gemma, "Outward symbols of slavery can sometimes be inconvenient, but that does not mean that dear Clarissa here is any less of a slave than you. Show her Clarissa, show her how I have chosen to exhibit your submission to me."

      The redhead's eyes flashed with suppressed anger as she heard his order, but she, just like Gemma, was obviously well aware of the penalties for disobedience and she reached at once for the hem of her tight dress and pulled it up to her waist, at the same time spreading her shapely legs to give Gemma an unhindered view of her belly.

      Gemma gasped into her gag, any doubts she might have had about the other girl's slave status instantly dispelled. Clamped tightly about Clarissa's slim waist and between her thighs, a contoured steel chastity belt hugged her like a second skin, gleaming coldly in the bright lights and denying access to her body to any, including Clarissa herself, who did not hold the keys of the locks!

      "Turn around,."

      Clarissa's white teeth gnawed at her lower lip and as she obeyed, Gemma saw that her bottom, neatly bisected by the steel belt, bore the tell tale red stripes of a clearly recent whipping!

      "Clarissa was rather fractious earlier this evening, as you can see. I'm afraid I had to remind her of her duties somewhat forcefully. But I am confident she will be much more obedient now. Won't you, eh, slavegirl?" and his embarrassed submissive nodded swiftly.

      "Good. Then arouse this slave for me. But not, repeat not, to climax. That can wait until everyone can share the sight."

      Gemma screamed into her gag, her bells jingling musically at her breasts as his words sank into her brain and the redhead dropped gracefully to her knees in front of her.

      Long, slim fingers reached out and Gemma juddered explosively as her breasts were captured, blistering arousal crashing through her pinioned body as her hardened nipples were twirled and squeezed and rolled until they ached and throbbed unmercifully and her belly boiled with enforced lust. Almost at her peak, Gemma whimpered in despair and disbelief as Clarissa stopped, leaving her trembling on the brink of her climax.

      Exactly as her Master had ordered!

      Gemma didn't want to believe the evidence of her own eyes and body, but as Clarissa stood up and took her place at the side of her Master, she had to!

      Clarissa was a slave! No less so, and perhaps even more so, than Gemma herself!

      Which meant that everything that Gemma had been told about Masters and slaves, was absolutely, literally true!

      Stunned by the realisation that she was only one slave among many, Gemma wept bitter tears as Matthew turned away to join the other Masters and Mistresses enjoying the party, leaving her to her unyielding bondage, the furious heat of her arousal and the terrifying anticipation of having to wait until her Masters chose to complete her inevitable submission!

      Time sped by as various members of The Consortium came over to enjoy the sight of Gemma's displayed nudity, but she barely noticed, her mind almost completely taken up by the shock of her arousal by Clarissa....until the music was switched off and everyone in the room gathered around her.    Helpless, Gemma screamed and moaned into her gag as her swollen breasts and damply glistening sex fell easy prey to the hands of her Masters, but no matter how she writhed and heaved and tugged at her bonds, she could not evade the overwhelming stimulation that each, in turn, imposed upon her. Time and again her nipples throbbed rigidly to skilled fingers, time and again her clitoris thrust hard and exquisitely sensitive from its fleshy sheath and time and again her belly exploded in coruscating spasms as fingers penetrated her labia and sex to force her into uncounted, unstoppable orgasms until the coffee table on which she sat became spattered and smeared with the silvery droplets of the sexual tribute wrung from her body by the merciless torment!

      Only when Gemma sagged limply in her bonds, barely able to respond to further stimulation, did they take some small pity on her and withdraw to the drinks table to refresh themselves for a renewed assault upon her when she had recovered somewhat.

      Totally devastated, her belly and breasts burning furiously from the shattering submissions forced upon her, Gemma remained helpless in her bondage for nearly an hour as her Masters drank and ate and joked among themselves, their callous disregard of her despair reinforcing her subjugation as she was ignored.

      In her place, Clarissa, the red head, became the centre of attention and Gemma's brown eyes widened as the tall slavegirl was ordered to strip for the entertainment of the group.

      Slowly and sensually, clearly enjoying being the object of all eyes, Clarissa undulated from side to side as she unclasped the halter neck of her silk dress and lowered it inch by inch to the creamy upper slopes of her breasts, tantalising her audience with momentary glimpses of her body, then covering herself once more, her eyes meeting those of her Masters boldly and then sliding away in submission, but never leaving the gaze of Matthew for more than a few seconds.

      His brief nod of approval to his slave gave permission for her to continue and she worked the tight silk down to her hips, revealing her pale, full breasts and large, dark nipples but never missing a beat of her erotic dance.

      For a brief instant, her eyes locked with Gemma's and the brunette recognised the defiant pride of a slavegirl who knew exactly what she was and accepted and revelled in her desirability to Masters.

      As Clarissa slid her dress over her hips and discarded the crumpled fabric to reveal the steel gripping her loins and marking her as Matthew's slavegirl, Gemma felt a bitter pang of jealousy that it was not she who wore such a device as a symbol of her absolute submission to one Master!

      For, as the redhead arched her body into the lovely curve of a slavegirl's submission, her green eyes fixed on only one Master....her Master, Matthew....and Gemma realised that Clarissa was enslaved by her love for him and needed no chains or whips to make her his slave. She could be nothing else and obviously desired nothing else!

      Gemma envied her such devotion and could not help but wonder whether she might, one day, find such a Master. A Master to whom she, too, could be nothing but a slave.

      Deep in her whirling brain, an image formed of herself kneeling in chains before a tall, muscular Master and she shut her eyes in horror as his face took on the familiar features of Mike, her ex-lover and partner and the man who had sold her into slavery!

      Trembling with shock, she forced the image away, down into the depths of her reeling mind, refusing to even think of the simply appalling possibility! She loathed him! Despised him and hated him with a passion and would never, ever, let such a thing happen!

      Shuddering, she opened her eyes, determined to forget her momentary, and it was only momentary, she told herself fiercely, lapse into madness.

      The sight before her took her breath away and brought her fears rushing back.

      Clarissa, freed of her chastity belt, but with her wrists crossed and tightly bound before her and with a wide gag strap sealing her lips, was being taken out onto the garden patio by Matthew, Lydia and Nicos, while Axel, Roxwell, Steven and Alicia were walking towards Gemma.

      Against four dominants, she never had a chance of resisting and gulped in fright as her ankles were untied, her wrists locked together before her belly and her neck released from the post.

      "On your feet, slavegirl. You've got one minute to stretch your muscles."

      Gemma winced as her body protested, but, true to their word, her Masters only allowed her a minute to recover before ordering her to walk out onto the patio, Axel and Steven gripping her elbows as she stumbled along on her pencil slim high heels.

      The night air was pleasantly cool on Gemma's naked flesh and as she joined Clarissa and her escort of Masters, Gemma could not help but notice how the gently swaying fairy lights highlighted the redhead's breasts and belly and legs in moving patterns of red and blue and yellow, the whole effect making her look like some sort of painted savage. Much like herself she realised, looking down at her own naked body.

      Held by strong hands, neither slavegirl wasted energy by trying to resist as a rope was thrown over the cross piece of a solid metal trellis above their heads and looped through between their bound wrists. Pushed together, back to back, Gemma found to her surprise that her immense heels made her nearly as tall as Clarissa and as the tightening rope stretched each of them upwards, she found the sensation of warm, resilient flesh against her spine and buttocks undeniably erotic.

      "Spread your legs, slaves," the order came from Lydia and both captives obeyed, recognising the futility of attempting to refuse.

      Rope encircled their ankles to hold them spreadeagled and as straps tightened at their knees  and waists and below their breasts, Gemma felt Clarissa's shivers of excitement match her own as their bodies were firmly clamped together.

      "Mmm, yes, very nice," Lydia and Alicia chuckled as they walked slowly, arm in arm  around the two naked slavegirls, feasting their eyes on taut breasts and spread thighs, "So, gentlemen, who's going to be first to test out this arrangement? We call it double dating, for obvious reasons."

      Gemma's eyes opened wide and she heard Clarissa's muffled gasp as they learned the reason for their back to back bondage. Sandwiched as they would be between two of their Masters, they wouldn't even be able to move as they were taken and Gemma felt renewed dampness moisten her groin as she imagined it.

      "A delightful idea, ladies, but if I might make one small suggestion...?" Matthew was behind Gemma, so she was unable to see what he was doing, but she felt Clarissa stiffen as her adored Master spoke, "I have always found that Clarissa's responses intensify when she cannot be sure who it is that arouses or takes her and I just happen to have brought these with me. If you would care to use them, we can see whether Gemma is affected in the same way?"

      "What an excellent idea, Matthew. Thank you. Yes, let's try them, by all means."

      Gemma was plunged into stygian darkness as a leather bag descended and she whimpered as she was deprived of sight, a draw cord at her neck closing the bag and eliminating every chink of light!

      Instantly, as predicted by Matthew, her arousal zoomed higher and her nostrils filled with the pungent, exciting smell of leather as she was hooded.

      Unable to anticipate the Masters' next move, Gemma shivered wildly, the bells at her nipples jingling and betraying the thrilling surge of submissive heat raging through her belly. When she was taken, there would be no way for her to tell who was enjoying her body!

      Clarissa's explosive gasp and the convulsive jerk of her body against Gemma's gave the brunette a couple of seconds' advance warning that the next stage of her ordeal was about to begin, but was nowhere near long enough to enable her to prepare herself for the gentle lips and long, wet tongue that nuzzled her clitoris and invaded the delicate cleft of her sex!

      Gemma's squeal of ecstasy lost itself in her hood as she juddered wildly to the unbearable arousal, neither knowing nor caring whether her lover was male or female, able only to respond more and more desperately to the exquisite pleasuring of her quaking belly.

      Driven into a frenzy by the mouth between her thighs, Gemma greeted its removal and immediate replacement by a thick, rigid erection which drove irresistibly into the churning cauldron of her belly, with a shrill, wailing scream of ultimate surrender as she hurtled into a stupendous orgasm. Pulsing and shuddering in great racking spasms, her body writhing against the ropes which held her, scalding love juices deluging into her belly, Gemma screamed her submission to slavery over and over into her massive gag as her Master exercised his full, awesome power, pounding into her receptive heat until he reached his peak and his seed flooded into her contorting belly to trigger a second mighty climax of devastating proportions.

      To her horror, even as she writhed in her release, the mouth returned to her sex, lapping at her engorged labia, drinking deep of her juices and beginning the cycle of wild arousal for a second time!

      Clarissa, too, was in no better situation, to judge by her breathy squeals and the rhythmic jolting of her buttocks against Gemma's, but there was nothing either slavegirl could do to help the other and Gemma arched helplessly as a second Master buried his maleness to the hilt in her roiling belly and cruel fingers seized her nipples and nipple rings, caressing her flesh and tweaking the steel circlets randomly to send furious arousal and flashes of delicious pain spearing through her throbbing breasts.

      The combination was far, far too much for Gemma and her belly convulsed in climax after climax, one blending into the next as she was forced way beyond her limits, into a limbo of sheer physical passion where nothing existed for her but the spinning vortex of her lust and the sexual demands imposed on her by her merciless Masters!

      Her second Master locked rigid, his seed jetting into her belly and Gemma exploded into another pulverising climax as he pulsed deep within her, her brain numbed into submission by the incredible power and number of her orgasms.

      Dangling from her bound wrists, shaken by continuing spasms and gasping for breath, Gemma whimpered piteously as he withdrew from her belly, horrified that the lips and tongue would return to foretell yet another devastating assault.

      It did not happen and as Clarissa screamed in climax and her naked body juddered violently against her spine, Gemma dared to hope that the ordeal was over. Soft whispers and the shuffling of feet told her that her Masters had not left, but as seconds lengthened to minutes, the two trembling, sweat and sex stained slavegirls began to recover and relax.

      Without warning and with only split seconds between them, Devil's Palms impacted with stinging force on the stretched flesh of each slave's upper thighs, the cruel slap of leather followed instantly by an anguished screech of shock and pain from each girl.

      Fingers clawing vainly, each writhed and twisted in hopeless efforts to avoid the strokes, but the leather sought them out with unerring accuracy, although with far less force than the first blow.

      Terrified, Gemma and Clarissa pleaded for mercy, but received none and their screams slowly changed to grunts of helpless anguish as the leather thongs flicked across their outthrust breasts and nipples and slapped gently between their thighs, bringing unwanted but unavoidable arousal as the whips rekindled the fires smouldering in their bellies.

      Then, as each slavegirl surrendered to the cruel torment, unknown Masters took them ruthlessly, penetrating to the heated core of their femininity and teaching them their slavery with hard, fast lunges as the slavegirls whimpered and begged in their helpless need, defenceless against the men's strength and power as they demonstrated their absolute Mastery by forcing the slavegirls to submit unconditionally to their dominance.

      Subjugated to the ultimate degree, Gemma and Clarissa climaxed within seconds of each other, their bodies writhing madly against each other as love juices crashed into their bellies and they came and came in obedience to the demands of their Masters.

      It was a horrifying, but hugely erotic experience and as Gemma spasmed to the explosive power of her orgasm, she knew, beyond doubt, that she would never, never forget the thrill of it! Her whole body burned with a vibrant excitement she had never known before and she understood then, as she stood bound and climaxing for her Masters, the attraction of bondage from the slave's point of view!

      She couldn't believe the depths of ecstasy she had plumbed and the sheer, pagan intoxication of complete submission and she gulped with nervous anxiety as a worrying doubt crept into her brain.

      If she was forced to endure such incredible sensations for a whole year, would she ever be able to go back to the humdrum routine of normal life?

      It was a shocking thought and as her hood was removed and her bonds untied by Masters who kissed her and congratulated her on her performance and fortitude, before taking her back to her room and locking her in, her brain went round in circles as the question refused to be ignored.

      Always, she came back to the same central fact.

      While she remained enslaved and in bondage, she had no choice.

      But what of when her contract ended.....?

CHAPTER 11                                                  5888

      Several weeks after the party at Alicia's where Gemma and her sister in bondage Clarissa had been made to show the full extent of their submission to their Masters, the brunette found herself at the home of the dominant Steven.

      Delivered inside the specially modified transport crate, her body strapped immovably into position and her lips sealed behind a tight leather gag, she had had no inkling of where she was being taken or whose eyes would drink in her helplessly bound nudity as the crate was opened.

      The sight of Master Steven's familiar face relieved one of her understandable fears...that of finding herself at the mercy of a complete stranger...but his first words to her as he gazed down at her embarrassed face, ushered in a whole new set of worries.

      "Ah, so there you are at last, slavegirl. I expected you yesterday. That's damned annoying. Not a very auspicious start, but now you have only three days to make up for it before we have to be away on our travels. Now, let's get you out of there."

      As he leaned over her, his fingers working at the straps and buckles securing her, Gemma mulled over his words anxiously. It wasn't her fault that she was later than expected, she hadn't even known that she was expected. Surely, he couldn't really blame her for that? And what did he mean about them being away on their travels? What travels? Where was he going to take her? And why?

      Stepping from the crate and going immediately to her knees on the grass as a sign of her submission to him, she wished that he had removed her gag as well as her bonds. With it still firmly in place, she couldn't ask any of the questions that buzzed around in her head.

      He moved behind her and Gemma arched her spine as he clipped her wrist cuffs to her ankles, presenting her in a graceful bow and opening her to his eyes.

      He squatted on his heels before her and Gemma coloured, feeling the first stirrings of arousal as he subjected her to a humiliatingly detailed inspection.

      "As lovely as I remembered," he said softly, "Bondage and slavery obviously suit you."

      Gemma gulped and squirmed with embarrassment, only too aware that it was true, but wishing that he hadn't recognised it.

      "Keep still," he ordered casually and Gemma froze, the arousal in her belly intensifying as she obeyed.

      "I'm sure I don't have to remind you what will happen if you disobey," his smile did nothing to soften the threat and Gemma bit down hard on the gag between her teeth, steeling herself as best she could as his hands reached for her.

      His fingers danced lightly over her proffered breasts, stroking here, giving a gentle squeeze there and her head went back, exposing the taut curve of her throat as his delicate caresses built her arousal inexorably higher, her breasts swelling and nipples growing hard as she responded involuntarily.

      Gemma tried to obey, she really did, but all of her slave training had been designed specifically to eliminate her ability to control her responses, and as her Master's right hand slid between her spread thighs and found the engorged lips of her sex, she could hold back no longer.

      With a muffled shriek of unbearable passion, she broke her position, bending forward from the waist as far as she could, her breasts and shoulders shaking uncontrollably and her thighs snapping shut to trap his hand at her belly.

      "I shall crop you for that, slavegirl," he said coldly, but his fingers continued to arouse her nipples and sex and Gemma moaned despairingly, nodding her head, knowing that she would be punished but willing to pay the price if only he would give her the climax his hands had brought so near.

      "Randy little slave," he laughed, but his voice was not unkind and Gemma shuddered in blazing need as his extended fingers drove deep into her pulsating sex and his thumb rubbed firmly at the hard, protruding nub of her clitoris.

      "You will pay for this climax, slave, so you had best make the most of it," and Gemma's belly convulsed wildly as his left hand released her breasts and landed with a stinging crack on her tight stretched right buttock. The instant flaring heat and her instinctive lunge forward drove her even more firmly onto his penetrating fingers and she gave a wild scream of surrender as the added stimulation pushed her over the edge and into her longed for orgasm.

      On her knees, bowed forward over her Master's trapped hand, Gemma came like the hot, submissive slavegirl she was, her belly pounding hugely as heated love juices sprayed into her sex and over his embedded fingers, the jingling bells at her quivering breasts marking her surrender and her brown eyes wide with the pleasure of her coming.

      As her thighs relaxed their vice like grip, her Master pulled his hand from her belly and Gemma dropped her eyes in shame as he held his fingers up and she saw the slick wetness of her submission glisten in the sunlight.

      "Randy little slave," he said again, laughing and Gemma felt herself redden. It wasn't fair, it wasn't her fault she responded so helplessly. It was what she had been trained to do. Trained by Masters just like him!

      She felt his hand stroke her hair, but she wouldn't look up. Damn him! Damn them all for making her a slavegirl! Her eyes filled with hot tears. She couldn't help what she had become and it wasn't fair of him to tease her.

      His hands released her cuffs, but only to reposition her and she kept her head lowered in the only protest she dared make as he clipped her ankles together and her wrists to the rear of her collar.

      "Punishment position, slave. I shall be back in a moment."

      That order brought Gemma's head up and she gaped in disbelief at his broad back as he strode towards the long, low brick farmhouse and disappeared through the front door.

      For a wild moment, she thought of trying to escape, but the idea of herself naked, bound at ankles and wrists, trying to hop to freedom, was so ludicrous that it even brought a wry smile to Gemma's gagged lips. It was laughable, but if she couldn't escape, then she had better obey. If he came back and found that she wasn't in the punishment position, she would be in even more trouble.

      Having her wrists secured behind her neck made things awkward, but Gemma knew that her difficulties would not save her from additional punishment and bent forward gingerly until her elbows met the grass. Another wriggle or two and she was in the ordered position, her forehead resting on the ground and her buttocks raised high in the air and available for whatever punishment her Master cared to inflict.

      It was the most embarrassing, undignified position of all those she had been taught and she was well aware that that was the reason why the Masters had invented it. In it, a slavegirl was quite helpless, shamefully exposed and unable to see what was going on behind her. All of which added to the misery of the slave and the pleasure of the Master.

      Gemma knew it, but unfortunately was not immune to the effect and as she knelt in the grass humbly awaiting her Master's return, she felt exactly the same the same fears and anxieties as any other slavegirl.

      Boots wished through the grass towards her and she shivered in anticipation, suddenly terrified that it might not be her Master! What if it was someone else? A stranger who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Her brain quailed and as she struggled in blind panic to lift her head, muffled whimpers leaked past her gag as she imagined unknown eyes staring at her upraised bottom, unknown hands ravaging her defenceless sex and an unknown man cashing in on his good fortune by taking her helplessly offered body before going on his merry way!

      Held by her own body weight and unable to get sufficient leverage to lift her face from the grass, Gemma shuddered horribly as the boots stopped behind her.

      A hard finger speared into her shamefully lubricated sex, a second thrust irresistibly past the tight ring of her anal passage and Gemma squealed wildly into her heavy gag as the double violation forced frantic responses from her invaded body!

      Her legs shot out straight behind her and she collapsed on her belly, but even this could not eject the probing fingers and she screamed in anguish, certain that she was at the mercy of a stranger and about to be taken.

      The sharp sting of a whip across her vainly clenching buttocks and her Master's brusque command, "Back in position, slave. You were not given permission to move," sounded like music to her ears and her eyes filled with tears of relief and gratitude as her worst nightmare proved to be unfounded.

      A second sharp cut of his whip tempered her relief with painful reality, as did the third, applied with a brief, "Hurry up, slave!" as she struggled back to her knees and pressed her forehead into the grass rather too slowly to meet his wishes.

      In position, her bottom smarting, Gemma could not help but wriggle as his embedded fingers slid from her sex and anus, earning herself another stinging stripe as he snapped, "I told you to keep still!" and she fought grimly not to move as submissive desire swirled through her belly in response to the thrilling memory  of his ruthless plundering of her body.

      "That's better. It seems that you are neither as well trained nor as obedient as you should be, slave. I strongly suggest you improve, or this will only be the first of many croppings I shall have to give you!" Steven's voice was calm, but quite implacable and Gemma understood that she was in the power of a perfectionist. She would be permitted no laxity whatsoever, any infringement would be punished and her groin moistened with a fearful excitement.

      With an abbreviated whistle, his crop descended on her bottom and Gemma winced, biting down on her gag to stop herself crying out as scorching heat flashed into her buttocks. A second, third and fourth stripe turned her flinching bottom into an inferno and salty tears rolled down her cheeks even as the heat of her punishment spread into her belly, confusing her completely with blistering arousal as she was disciplined!

      The fifth and sixth stripes completed her punishment and to Gemma's absolute astonishment and humiliation, the touch of her Master's hand on her chastised buttocks triggered an immediate and intense orgasm!

      Inextricably mixed in her spinning brain, pain and pleasure combined to give Gemma a totally unexpected climax and as she spasmed and pulsed in her release, she groaned to the knowledge that she had revealed a side to her personality that even she had not known existed!

      To a Master who would not hesitate to use it against her!

      Above her kneeling, whip striped, climaxing body, Steven, her Master nodded in satisfaction.

      He had not known of Gemma's ability to climax under punishment, but now that he did....

      He bent swiftly and unclipped her ankle cuffs, then freed his fully aroused maleness, thrust her thighs apart and entered her in one massive lunge.

      Powerless against his masculine strength, her hips clamped by his strong fingers, Gemma gasped as her sex was filled and panted for breath as he pulled her back against his belly, his erect shaft driving deep and then deeper still into her wet, bubbling heat, building her desire to match his, until both trembled on the brink of orgasm.

      His right hand searched for, and found, his crop and as he grated, "Now, slavegirl," and flicked the leather across Gemma's reddened buttock, Master and slave exploded as one, his seed jetting into her belly to mix with the spraying pulses of her love juices as she came to his bidding!

      Locked together, panting and groaning with joint pleasure, Gemma and her Master spasmed and shuddered in ecstasy, giving and receiving pleasure in equal amounts until both were spent and collapsed to the grass in exhaustion.

      Pinned face down beneath her Master's bulk, Gemma tried to come to terms with the unsuspected existence of a masochistic streak in her make up. That it was there, she could not deny and that Steven would use it to enslave her even more deeply, she didn't doubt for a moment. The question was, could she control it? Would Steven permit her to control it? And did she even want to?

      Her climax while under discipline had been thrillingly powerful.

      Dare she allow herself to give in to such desire again?

      More to the point, would she be allowed not to?

      Her Master stirred and rolled from her and Gemma put aside her concerns and doubts as he dressed himself and helped her to her feet. He was her Master and controlled her. If he chose to exploit her new found vulnerability, then he would and she would be unable to stop him. She was his slave and that was an end to it. As he took her into his house and locked her collar to the ever present chain leash fitted in all of her Master's homes, Gemma resigned herself to her fate and relaxed, deciding to enjoy her life as much as she could, when she could and let the future take care of itself.

      "You look lovely, slavegirl. Come with me, I have something to show you."

      It was the morning of her second day with Steven and she was freshly bathed, her hair brushed and gleaming, her stomach replete with a delicious breakfast he had prepared, her lightly tanned flesh glowing with good health and contrasting excitingly with the gleaming steel at her throat and ankles, her wrists locked, as ever, behind her back. The only fly in the ointment, as far as Gemma was concerned, was that he had brought along her uncomfortable high heeled shoes and they were locked securely on her feet, forcing her to stand bolt upright and making her calves ache.

      As she preceded her Master, tip-tapping on her heels down a long corridor towards the rear of his house, Gemma was acutely aware of his eyes on her naked thighs and buttocks, but was accustomed to nudity and was secretly proud of her trim body and the desire it created. As a slavegirl, it was her prime role. She was supposed to be desirable and knew that she was.

      "Stop. Wait there."

      Gemma looked curiously at the door to her left, wondering what was behind its plain, unmarked panels and noted the twin bolts at top and bottom as her Master swung it open. Evidently, it was a room designed to keep its occupant imprisoned and her belly twitched pleasantly to the thought that she was about to become its occupant.

      "In you go and stand still. I'll get the light."

      The room was about ten or twelve feet square, windowless and painted a neutral cream colour, its only furnishings a single, comfortable looking armchair facing a television set along the left wall.

      To the right, halfway between the wall and the chair, an unidentifiable object about three feet high stood under a blue dust sheet and as Gemma looked at it, she had a strong hunch that it, whatever it was, was the reason for her presence.

      Steven closed the door and slid home a bolt at the top and Gemma's hunch grew stronger as he moved to the mysterious shape.

      "This is my favourite," he told her cheerfully and swept the dust sheet to one side to reveal a gleaming steel post rising from the floor, with an odd, distorted "U" shape rather like a horse's saddle at its top, a large, knurled thumb wheel halfway up the post and another just under the saddle.

      "Come over here. I want you to see what you're getting into....or, rather, vice versa," and his face split into a broad grin as Gemma eyed him warily. She had learned from bitter experience that Masters who grinned invariably meant trouble for their slaves. But then, so did Masters who didn't! Either way, her wrists were locked behind her, which meant she didn't have a choice.

      As she approached the device and her smiling Master, she began to like the look of it less and less. The saddle was quite narrow at its centre and wider at each end, with two holes in it, one larger in the middle and the other smaller, a couple of inches from it, the whole thing lined with leather and Gemma took an involuntary pace backwards as its purpose became shockingly clear!

      "That was quick, slavegirl," her Master said approvingly, "Most slaves take a lot longer to work it out."

      Gemma stared at him and her belly gave a slow, exciting lurch as his evident pleasure confirmed her reasoning. The saddle was exactly that, but for a slavegirl's bottom, rather than a horse's rider, the two holes corresponding to her sex and anal passage and giving access to her even though she would be sitting down!

      He crooked a finger at her and the sheer arrogance of the gesture took her breath away, which was, perhaps, just as well because it gave her time to reflect on her situation.

      Minus her arms in a small, locked room with a Master who had already shown that he was by no means averse to using a crop on her to make her obey him, her options were, to say the very least, somewhat limited. She couldn't run, or hide, or fight and the smile on his face as he crooked his finger a second time, told her that he knew it.

      Licking her dry lips, she moved back towards the device as slowly as she dared, her imagination working overtime and fuelling the growing warmth between her thighs.

      "Climb aboard, pardner and let's hit the trail," he drawled in a passable imitation of a cowboy and Gemma smiled weakly at his misplaced sense of humour.

      Fortunately, the inches added to her legs by the high heels meant that she could comfortably clear the saddle and she adjusted her feet on either side of the steel post, preparing to sit down.

      "No, no, slavegirl," he chided her gently, "You stay just as you are," and he bent to the lower thumb wheel, spinning it rapidly.

      To Gemma's astonishment, the saddle rose smoothly and silently and she shivered as cool leather came into firm contact with the sensitive flesh between her legs, the raised sections before and behind her fitting snugly against her buttocks and the curve of her lower belly.

      It was surprisingly comfortable, much more so than she had imagined and Gemma flashed her Master a smile of relief.

      "I'm glad you like it, slavegirl," he said briefly, "Now, straighten your legs a little more. It's better when most of your weight is taken by the saddle."

      Gemma complied willingly and he raised the seat another two inches, her heels rising from the floor until only the soles of her shoes were in contact with the ground and the leather covered saddle cupped every crevice of her cradled sex and bottom, the pleasant tension holding her labia and the crack between her buttocks slightly open.

      The sensation was extraordinary, she could barely wriggle and, without her arms or his assistance, couldn't possibly dismount from the device.

      "May I speak, Master," she asked and when he nodded, said simply, "I love it Master, it's just like riding a horse."

      He chuckled, "Yes, it is, isn't it, but I'm not quite finished yet so you just stay there and I'll be back soon," and he unbolted the door and disappeared.

      He left the door open behind him, but Gemma couldn't have got down from her perch even if she had wanted to and she didn't give it a second thought as she explored her metal steed.

      She could rock slightly back and forth, rather less from side to side and she could just feel the edges of the two holes beneath her sex and bottom, but that was about it!

      The holes raised all sorts of interesting possibilities in her mind and she didn't even try to control the inevitable heat that built inside her as the result of her thoughts, instead, simply sitting back and allowing her brain to fantasise about all the things that might be done!

      By the time Steven returned, Gemma had already built up quite a head of steam and the sight of several broad leather straps in his hand did nothing at all to calm her excitement.

      The first strap he used on her was attached to a very large rubber ball gag and she opened her mouth wide even before he brought it to her lips, her willingness to cooperate bringing a smile to his face as he packed her mouth full and buckled her into silence. Further straps at her ankles and knees bound her legs securely to the pole and she savoured her increased helplessness as he wound the saddle up a further inch, pressing the leather thrillingly tight into the softnesses between her thighs.

      The last strap served a double purpose, linking her collar to her wrist cuffs and raising her hands away from the saddle and her own buttocks and then clipping to the rear of the saddle itself, to prevent her bending forward.

      As he stood back to enjoy the fruits of his labours, Gemma's belly thrilled to the stringency of his bondage of her. She was his, completely and hopelessly, every part of her body freely available, unable to put up the smallest resistance, no matter what he did to her.

      The mere thought of what he could do, set the bells tinkling at her breasts and, as if at a signal, Steven moved forward and inserted a finger into her sex.

      Gemma whimpered, her torso juddering, but he simply withdrew his finger and nodded as he saw the wetness of her need.

      Without a word of explanation, he knelt down and his hand began to turn the second thumb wheel, the one just below the saddle, his eyes fixed on Gemma's face.

      For several seconds, nothing seemed to happen and she stared down at her Master, puzzlement wrinkling her brow....but then, she felt steadily increasing pressure against the moist lips of her sex as something huge and hard began to rise from the hole in the saddle beneath her!

      Her eyes bulged with dawning horror as her labia stretched to accommodate the invader and she shook her head frantically from side to side as her Master continued to turn the wheel and the massive shaft sank relentlessly deeper into her body.

      Shrieking for mercy, Gemma fought madly to raise herself onto the very tips of her toes, stretching her body upwards until every muscle quivered with strain.

      It was exactly what her Master had been waiting for and his hand raced to the other wheel, spinning it fast and raising the saddle to take up the pitiful fraction of slack Gemma had managed to win for herself with such effort!

      Gemma moaned in despair, thwarted and in a worse predicament than ever, for now she dared not relax her stressed muscles. If she did so, she would impale herself even more firmly on the shaft in her belly.

      Cruelly, her Master straightened, fetched the easy chair and sat down, his eyes gleaming with pleasure as he waited for the inevitable moment when his slave could maintain her rigidly upright posture no longer and was forced to take the full length and girth of his device into her belly.

      Gemma's futile resistance could not last and her eyes filled with the knowledge of her defeat as her body gave up the unequal struggle, a muffled gasp torn from her throat as she sank onto the merciless shaft.

      Steven rose to his feet, "Bravo, slavegirl. A most spirited performance. Doomed to failure, of course, but extremely enjoyable. And now, it is time for you to submit utterly to me and my device," and he returned to the upper thumbwheel, watching Gemma closely as the shaft penetrated inexorably to the very core of her femininity, stretching and filling her until her she could take no more.

      He stood and went back to his chair, leaning back into its soft cushion and making himself comfortable as his captive stared wildly at him, "There now, slavegirl," he grinned, "We're ready to begin."

      Gemma chewed on her gag, her mind reeling as she understood that he meant to impose yet more torment upon her and her belly kicked with frightening power.

      Oddly, though, it was not the massive shaft sunk deep in her belly which worried her. Thankfully, her body had stretched to cope with its bulk and her constant awareness of its presence was more exciting than frightening. What really frightened her, was her own reaction to the situation.

      She had had three climaxes, albeit small ones, while her Master had wound the shaft into her body, as her internal muscles clutched and squeezed the rod as it penetrated her...and knew that the smallest additional stimulation would send her hurtling into a fourth!

      With an ostentatious flourish designed to focus her attention on him, her Master pulled a small black box from his pocket, "I designed and built that device, you know," he told her smugly, "I call it my slavegirl saddle. And I built the vibrator, too, the one that you're sitting on."

      Gemma's throat worked convulsively as she heard the bad news and she gazed fixedly at the box in his hand, hoping desperately that his hovering finger would not press any of the buttons.

      He pressed and her head jerked up, a long shrill scream hanging in the air as, from deep between her flexing thighs, came a low pitched buzzing.

      From the outermost lips of her sex to her innermost core, powerful vibrations radiated up into Gemma's belly, propelling her into a tremendous orgasm, her surrender instantaneous and absolute!

      Seated atop her post, legs and lower body unable to move to the raging tumult in her belly, Gemma's shoulders and breasts shook and jiggled enticingly as she tried in vain to alleviate the storm of passion creating such havoc inside her.

      Instead, to her delicious horror, her jiggling breast and tinkling bells attracted her Master and his hands joined the overwhelming assault, fondling her breasts, toying with her erect nipples and combining with the unceasing oscillations of the vibrator in her belly to plunge her into another climax even before her last had begun to wane!

      Exploding in great paroxysms of lust, climax after climax bursting like bombs in her flooded belly, Gemma lost all track of time, its passage marked only by shattering arousal and abject submission as her Master and his terrible, wonderful vibrator forced her to respond over and over again to his will!

      At one point in her fantastic ordeal, Gemma tried to resist, clenching her buttocks as her Master moved behind her and began to insert a second vibrator into the tight tunnel of her anal passage, but his free hand rose to her breasts and she was lost, her body surrendering helplessly to his touch.

      Her intense humiliation at being plugged at both front and rear, lasted only until the second device was switched on, when the two vibrators working together spun her, screaming in disbelief at he

impossibility of the increased stimulation, into still another orgasm!

      At last, at long, long last, the vibrators purred into silence and Gemma slumped exhaustedly in her bonds, her sweat drenched body trembling and shaking gently as the fading pulses of her latest orgasm rippled through her belly.

      "Superb, slavegirl! Absolutely fantastic!" her Master's delight showed clearly as he busied himself in untying her legs and easing the vibrators from her body, "I'll lift you off there and take you to clean up, then it's back you go for the night."

      The realisation that she was to spend the night as she had spent the day was a terrible blow, but Gemma was too exhausted to care very much and was in any case still bound and gagged   

      As she was lifted from the saddle by his muscular arms, carried to the bathroom and her body gently bathed and rinsed free of the sticky residue of sex and sweat, Gemma studied her Master, reflecting on the opposing sides of his nature. At one moment, the ruthless dominant, able to impose the most extreme torment on her and yet, moments later, bathing and caring for her with the greatest gentleness and solicitude.

      It was a conflict, but in a strange way, she supposed it made perfect sense. He looked after her because he needed her. Without her submission, he could not exert his dominance and if he bound her so she could not care for herself, then he would care for her.

      "Thirsty, slave?"

      She was and nodded her head and he loosened her gag, leaving it dangling below her chin as he held a glass of water to her lips.

      "Thank you, Master."

      "Would you like more? No? Open your mouth then."

      "Master? Do I...Do I really have to spend tonight back in that room? Can't I...Can't I spend it pleasing you instead?"

      "Yes, you do and no, you can't!"

      Gemma licked her lips, secretly thrilled inside by his uncompromising answer. Even her offer to please him couldn't deflect him from his plans. He wanted her riding his slavegirl saddle all night and that was what she was going to have to do, whether she wanted to or not!

      She went slowly to her knees before him, her desire to submit burning like a furnace.

      "Very well, my Master," she whispered humbly," I am your slavegirl and must obey," and opened her mouth wide to receive her gag.

      The touch of his hands as he silenced her and carried her back sent delicious shock waves through her flesh and his smile as he stared down at her slim body in his arms made her belly swirl with slave heat as she revelled in her willing surrender to his Mastery.

      She made no resistance as he placed her back on the damp, stained saddle and re-bound her legs, but could not prevent a soft snort of arousal leaking from her gagged lips as the twin vibrators slid smoothly into her body, gliding easily in the slickness of her arousal.

      He checked her bonds carefully, then picked up the black control box, "I have built a random setting into this controller, slavegirl," he told her, "It enables me to enjoy a good night's sleep without worrying whether you are getting bored. When I set it, it will activate the vibrators at random intervals. Anything between ten minutes and two hours. It's very reliable, as you will find out. Good night, slavegirl, I'll be back in the morning."

      He pressed two buttons on the control box and turned away, ignoring Gemma's muffled protests and the eloquent pleading of her eyes.

      At the door, he clicked his fingers and turned to face her, "Oh, I nearly forgot. Someone is coming to see you in the morning," and he left the room, bolting the door behind him.

      Gemma stared at the closed door, willing him to return to her, then looked around at the sparsely furnished room, accepting that it was not going to happen.

      Her eyes focused on her bare breasts, then moved lower to the saddle cradling her belly, giving a soft whimper as she visualised the two vibrating time bombs ticking away in her sex and bottom. Ten minutes to two hours her Master had said, with no set pattern. At any moment, one or the other, or even both, could activate and Gemma was horribly aware that it was impossible to resist them. She would climax, there was no question of it! But when? And how often?

      Even worse, if someone was coming to see her in the morning, would she still be sitting on this awful thing, with vibrators still buried in her body? It was too embarrassing to contemplate, but her brain wouldn't let the awful prospect drop and Gemma felt her face flush a hot scarlet as she imagined one of her other Masters, perhaps Nicos, or Lydia or, worst of all, Roxwell, walking in on her to find her in the throes of a climax!

      Lost in her nightmarish fantasy, she was caught unprepared as the vibrators buzzed into feverish activity and she squealed in anguish as her belly ignited and she was forced into the first orgasm of her long, lonely night by the mindless, merciless wires and relays of the control box built by her inventive Master.

      It proved to be by far the longest and most devilishly erotic night of Gemma's life, for it seemed as if each time her eyes closed in exhaustion, one vibrator or the other would buzz into life and drag her back to the frenzied cycle of arousal and surrender.

      Incredibly, despite the constantly simmering heat in her belly and the numerous climaxes forced on her, she did manage to get at least some spells of restful sleep and as she was rudely awoken from one of these, she found herself welcoming and delighting in the blazing passion unleashed in her body by her strict bondage and the demands of her mechanical Masters.

      From that point, Gemma ceased to fight her captivity and her subjugation, relishing instead the delirious ecstasy of willing submission and basking in the hot glow of her own internal fires as she discarded all the redundant baggage of her former life, abandoning all thoughts of freedom or equality and dedicating herself, both body and mind, to the achievement of one goal above all others.

       She would become the perfect slavegirl!

      As she pondered her momentous decision, Gemma felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

      No longer would she need to fight to retain some measure of control over her own body.

      No longer fret and worry over her long slide into slavery.

      No longer concern herself with the shame of submitting too deeply.

      A perfect slavegirl needed to  fear none of these things, for all would be required of her...and all would have to be given willingly and gladly.

      Gemma examined her emotions as objectively as she could, testing herself to ensure that any decision would not be just the result of her tiredness and the thrilling ordeal she had been made to undergo and warning herself such a decision could not be taken lightly.

      Her careful scrutiny made no difference.

      Amazed at how calm she felt, Gemma made her irrevocable decision and committed herself.

      To slavery and bondage and the joy of submitting to her deepest desires!

CHAPTER 12

      Gemma was physically drained after her marathon of arousal in the slave saddle, but her mind was alert and she heard footsteps coming down the corridor towards her locked room well before the bolts slid back and the door opened to reveal her Master.

      Steven looked cheerful and well rested, his night clearly far more peaceful than the one Gemma had been made to endure by his ingenious devices.

      "Ah, still awake I see," he greeted her, "Good morning, slavegirl and how was your night? Not quite as restful as mine, I suspect, but then that's the diff...." he broke off abruptly as a low pitched buzz interrupted him and Gemma juddered helplessly atop the steel post as vibrations surged through her nude body.

      He smiled into her anguished face, then walked casually over to the chair and pressed a button on the control device.

      The buzzing vibrator stopped instantly and Gemma slumped in relief....then snapped erect again, her eyes wide and staring as he switched the vibrator on for a moment and then off again.

      "Sorry about that, slavegirl. My finger must have accidentally slipped," he said, his broad grin making a lie of his words and Gemma glared at him, knowing full well that the "accident" was no such thing and there could well be other "accidents" if he was in a playful mood!

      "Now then," he went on, choosing to ignore her glare, "It's nearly half past eight and your visitor should arrive about ten, so I assume you would like a bite of breakfast? I know I would."

      Gemma nodded eagerly, she hadn't eaten for almost twenty four hours and was ravenously hungry.

      "OK, one breakfast coming right up," and he was gone, leaving Gemma alone and still bound, but  thankful that at least he had turned off the vibrators which had tormented her for so many hours. It would have been even better if he had untied her and lifted her off the saddle, but Gemma was a realist as well as a slavegirl and was grateful for small mercies.

      Her mind turned to the coming day as she waited for him to return and she wondered who her visitor might be? Today was the day he had said they had to be away on their travels, but to where? Naturally, he had not confided in a mere slavegirl, so Gemma was reduced to guessing. Assuming her visitor was one of her other Masters, maybe she was going to be taken to their home, but from the way he had said "travels" it sounded more like quite a long journey?

      She gave up in disgust. Masters never told their slavegirls anything, so she would just have to wait and see. It was just another of the frustrations of being enslaved. Not that there weren't compensations, she admitted to herself, remembering the previous day and night and her belly filled with a slow, luxurious warmth.     

      "Breakfast," her Master carried in a tray and her nostrils twitched to the glorious aromas of bacon and coffee as he pulled the chair over to her side and set the tray down. Then he unbuckled her gag and rubbed her stiffened jaws until they could move freely again.

      "May I speak, Master?"

      "Don't talk, eat," he told her and lifted a forkful of bacon and egg to her lips.

      Gemma was used to being fed by hand and did as she was bid, wolfing down every scrap of food she was given and drinking thirstily from the coffee cup he held for her.

      "There now, how's that?"     

      "Much better thank you, Master," Gemma replied gratefully, then added, "Master, may I say something?"

      "Well, that depends, slavegirl. What is it? Not a complaint, I trust," and he gave her a hard stare.

      "No, Master," she said hurriedly, " I wanted to...to thank you," and she blushed, unaccountably embarrassed.

      For a moment he didn't say anything, just looked at her red face, then, "I see. And why do you want to thank me, slavegirl?"

      "For...for last night, Master," she stammered, then took a deep breath and hurried on before he could reply, "For last night and...and for giving me the c...courage to be a slavegirl, Master."

      He gazed searchingly into her soft brown eyes, then nodded slowly, as if he had found what he was looking for in their shining depths, "Ah," he said, his lips curving into a gentle smile, "Now I understand. My congratulations, slavegirl, on finding your true vocation and daring to accept what you have discovered about yourself."

      "Thank you, Master," Gemma replied softly, warmth coiling in her belly to the knowledge that he really did understand the change in her, "I..I know what I am now, my Master and..and I know what I w..want."

      "I'm very pleased for you, slavegirl. And when and how did all this happen?"

      Gemma gulped, wishing she didn't have to answer but knowing she must, "Last night, Master. When you left me and your vib...vibrators kept...arousing me and making me c..come!"

      He chuckled, "Good, it's nice to know that my inventions work. Go on."

      "I couldn't help myself, Master," her eyes widened with remembered anguish, "They just went on and on until I nearly went mad!" Gemma sucked in a huge breath as she tried to calm herself, then went on more steadily, "You can't possibly imagine what it was like! I couldn't do a thing! But then...I don't know...something happened and...and I just knew what I wanted..." her voice trailed off into silence and she trembled with the violence of her emotions.

      Steven reached out and patted her cheek tenderly and Gemma gave him a tremulous smile, her voice almost breaking as she added, "I knew I was a sl..slavegirl then, M..Master...and..and  I still am."

      "Yes," he agreed firmly, "By your own admission, that is exactly what you are," and Gemma gave a great gasping shudder as his uncompromising tone warned her that he had no intention of reducing the exacting standards he demanded of her.

      "I shall be back in about an hour with your visitor, slavegirl. Be ready," and he gathered up the dirty dishes and strode out of the room without a backward glance, bolting the door behind him.

      Gemma's belly lurched with nervous excitement. Had she made a terrible mistake by telling her Master of her decision to accept her enslavement? After all, what more could he demand from her? Hadn't he already taken everything she had to give?

      Some time later, Gemma hollowed her spine to present her breasts, determined to greet her Master as the perfect slavegirl she had decided to become as she heard him approaching her room.

      Her determination wavered somewhat as she heard a second set of footsteps accompanying his, the distinctive tip-tap of high heels telling her that her visitor was to be female.

      Please let it be Mistress Alicia, she thought to herself, not Mistress Lydia, for she was frightened of the dark haired dominant and knew how scathing she would be when she saw Gemma's predicament and learned how she had been forced to submit to the vibrators built into the saddle.

      The bolts rattled back and her Master strode into the room, his eyes going immediately to Gemma's displayed body, noting her submissive posture and the nervousness betrayed by the slight, almost unnoticeable tremors of her rounded belly.

      "Excellent, slavegirl," he said briefly, "Hold that position and remain silent," then turned as his companion followed him into the room.

      Gemma's nostrils flared widely, her eyes almost starting from their sockets as the visitor walked up to Steven's side and linked her arm through his.

      It was not Alicia, but nor was it Lydia and Gemma bit her lower lip in anguish.

      Her Master's companion was one of the loveliest women Gemma had ever seen, long glistening hair, black as a raven's wing, framing a delicate heart shaped face containing a pair of full red lips, small nose and two eyes of the darkest brown, almost black beneath long curling lashes. Short even in high heels, the top of her sleek head only reaching to Steven's shoulder, her smartly tailored cream linen suit showed off a pair of full breasts Gemma could only envy and long, well shaped legs. She looked like a fashion model dressed in a business suit and Gemma felt sharp pangs of jealous resentment and shame at the contrast with her own nudity and bondage.

      To make matters worse, the woman was a total stranger and Gemma was under orders not to move, so couldn't even attempt to cover herself!

      "Gemma, let me introduce you to Helen. Helen, this is Gemma. Say Hello nicely, slavegirl." He was obviously enjoying himself and Gemma gritted her teeth, knowing that any attempt on her part to refuse or protest would earn her punishment.

      "Hello," she said ungraciously, then, seeing her Master frown, quickly added, "Mistress."

      The short, black haired Helen seemed uncertain whether to respond and looked up at Steven.

      He chuckled, clearly relishing Gemma's embarrassment and smiled down at his tiny companion, "It's all right, darling. Gemma has been trained to call almost everybody Master or Mistress. Isn't that right, slavegirl?"

      "Yes, Master," she replied instantly and he chuckled again.

      "You see, it's all part of her training as a slave."

      Helen smiled nervously, "Yes, I understand, Steven. And that's why she's all..tied up and...and naked, I suppose, is it? All a part of her being a..a slave?"

            "That's right," he agreed cheerfully, "It goes with the territory for a slave. Doesn't it, slavegirl?" and his eyes gleamed with mischief as he forced her to answer again.

      Gemma knew what he was doing and decided that if he was going to play games with her, she might as well get it over with as quickly as possible.

      "Yes, Master," she answered peevishly, "I'm your slavegirl and I must obey you at all times. If you wish me to be kept naked and tied up for your pleasure, then I must accept it, Master," and she pulled her shoulders even further back, displaying her naked breasts still more prominently.

      His eyes flashed as he heard her answer and Gemma swallowed nervously, hoping that her momentary slip into flippancy wouldn't earn her  immediate retribution.

      "Gemma is quite correct, my  dear," he said, smiling at Helen, "However, she should also have mentioned that a slavegirl is required to be respectful to her Master at all times. Any failure to do so might have unfortunate consequences for her," and his reply left his worried captive in no doubt that her lapse would not be forgotten...or forgiven.

      Helen nodded, "Well, yes I suppose so," she began, "But when did she.....?"

      "I tell you what, Helen," Steven broke in, "If you've got lots of questions, why don't you ask Gemma directly? I'll push off for a while and you two girls can have a good long chat without me overhearing what you're talking about. How does that sound?" and he smiled warmly at his lovely companion.

      Helen looked up at him, then across at Gemma, "All right, Steven, if you think so. Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

      "No, not at all. It's fine with me and I'm sure that Gemma won't object either. You ask her about anything you want to know, my dear. Don't be nervous, she won't bite you and she's quite securely fixed so you don't have to worry that she'll get loose."

      Helen hesitated for a second, then smiled brightly, "OK, darling, that would be fine and it would make things a bit easier."

      "Good, that's settled then. I'll be back in..what? An hour, say? Great. See you then."

      He strode to the door, then turned back and looked straight at Gemma, "Tell Helen whatever she wants to know," he ordered firmly, "And tell her the truth, slavegirl, or you will have to explain yourself to me. Do you understand?"

      Gemma replied automatically, "Yes Master," then realised that she had no idea what Helen was going to ask her.

      It was too late. Her Master's back disappeared through the door and as the bolts slid home, she was alone with a complete stranger.

      An awkward silence stretched out longer and longer as the two women gazed at each other, Helen seemingly too shy to begin the conversation and Gemma carefully trained and conditioned not to speak until spoken to.

      Just when Gemma was nerving herself to break the rules and speak, Helen asked abruptly, "How long have you been a..slavegirl, Gemma?"

      Embarrassingly, Gemma had to admit that she had no idea, "I don't know, Mistress," she said, red faced, "I was enslaved at the beginning of April, Mistress."

      "It's August 28th today, so that's what...about five months, isn't it?" Helen replied and Gemma bit her lower lip. She still had seven months of her enslavement to serve. An eternity!

      "How did it happen? I mean, why did you decide to..to be...what you are?" Helen's cheeks burned with two bright patches of colour as she asked the question.

      "I didn't have any choice, Mistress," Gemma said miserably and explained to the shocked brunette how her partner had bargained away her freedom for a whole year, in return for a business loan.

      "But...But that's awful!" Helen cried, "You poor thing! Couldn't you have escaped, or something?"

      Gemma looked down at her bound legs and tensed her shoulders, then asked simply, "How, Mistress?"

      Helen stared at the leather and steel clamping Gemma's body and gave a little shiver, No, I suppose not. Are you...Are you always kept tied up and h..helpless, like that?"

      "I'm a bondage slavegirl, Mistress. I wear the collar of my Masters and their chains make sure I don't get away."

      As she spoke, Gemma noticed that Helen's eyes were fixed on the rings and bells dangling from her pierced nipples and felt her face flush in anticipation of the next question.

      It came.

      "Who did that to you?" Helen's fingers waved vaguely, but her meaning was clear.

      "The Masters," Gemma whispered and her questioner's eyes widened, gleaming with an excitement that Gemma didn't understand.

      "Why did they do it? Did it hurt? What are the smaller rings for?" Helen couldn't seem to get her questions out fast enough and a light sheen of perspiration beaded her forehead as she stared enthralled at Gemma's piercings.

      Gemma didn't want to reply, but remembered her Master's instructions to answer..and answer truthfully.

      "No, Mistress, it didn't hurt. They used some sort of liquid to numb my br..breasts before they put the r..rings in. And they did it because they w..wanted to, Mistress. It made me their...property, they said."

      Gemma gaped as Helen stared down at her own full breasts and then cupped them in her hands, muttering almost too softly for Gemma to hear, "Just like Steven told me. Nipple rings," and shivered.

      Staring at the lovely brunette, Gemma frowned. What was going on?

      "Mistress? Mistress?" Helen gave a start as Gemma's voice penetrated her reverie, then gave her a brilliant smile.

      "Sorry, Gemma. What were we talking about? Oh, yes. What are the small rings for?"

      Gemma hung her head in shame, "They use them to control me, Mistress."

      "Sorry, I didn't hear what you said. What do they use them for?"

      Gemma's pride in being a slavegirl was all she had left and she used it, "They use them to control me," she repeated defiantly, " To tie me so that I dare not move, or to tether me with a leash so I have to stay where they put me and do anything they want"

      Helen nodded thoughtfully, as if Gemma's explanation had confirmed something she had been wondering about, "Yes, I see what you mean. Tied like that, any slavegirl would have to obey, no matter what she was ordered to do, wouldn't she? Tell me, though, you keep talking about Masters, how many have you got, for Heaven's sake?"

      "Seven that I know of, Mistress, but there may be others that I haven't met," Gemma admitted, blushing again.

      "Seven! Good grief!" Helen was astounded, "Who are they all? Steven, obviously, but what about the others?"

      For the second time, the shamefaced brunette had to admit that she didn't know, "They only tell me their first names, but there are five men and two women and they call themselves The Consortium, Mistress. It's a sort of...partnership and they all shared the costs of b..b...buying me, Mistress, so now I have to obey and s..serve them all."

      "Seven Masters!" Helen repeated, clearly shocked by the revelation, "I never imagined....How ever do you do it?"

      "I don't have a choice, Mistress. If they find me displeasing, they p..p..punish me.

      Helen was fascinated, "Punish you? How?"

      Gemma was beyond shame after so many revelations, "Sometimes I'm just spanked, Mistress, but more often they use a riding crop on my bottom. They really seem to like that, unfortunately."

      Helen licked her red lips and gave an unconscious wriggle of her buttocks, "Steven has a riding crop..." she said slowly and swallowed hard as Gemma nodded silently.

      "It's incredible, Gemma. I can hardly believe what you're telling me, but it's all true, isn't it?"

      "Every word, Mistress."

      "What's it like, Gemma? What is it really, truly like to be a slavegirl and to have to obey, even if you don't want to. How does it feel?"

      Gemma looked at the excited woman opposite her and took a deep breath.

      "It's scary, Mistress. Scary and thrilling and terrifying and unbelievably exciting, all at the same time. I hated it at first. I hated being tied up all the time and I hated being gagged and I hated having to obey, but when you're not given any choice, you just have to get used to it. I fought against it like mad to begin with, but that only got me punished, so eventually, I had to give in and go along with it. Since then, things are better, but it's still sometimes very frustrating and it can be boring when I'm all alone locked in a cellar, or something."

      "It doesn't sound like much fun," Helen observed and Gemma gave her a wry smile.

      "Well, Mistress, sometimes it isn't," she agreed, "But it's not all bad. I've had an awful lot of pleasure, too. Until you've experienced being tied up and gagged so that you can't move a muscle and then having a Master arouse you until your body feels as though it's going to burst into flames and you would willingly do anything he ordered if only you could, you just can't imagine what it's like! You can't move, you can't even scream or beg and it gets better and better and stronger and stronger, until he decides to let you come and then it's sheer ecstasy. You can just let go, because there's nothing you can do. Your Master is in total control of you, he can do literally anything he wants and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop him! And it gets easier each time. Easier for you and easier for him, until it's second nature for you to surrender and it takes less and less for him to get you to that point," Gemma paused for a moment and shrugged her shoulders in resignation, "That's when you realise that you've become a slavegirl, Mistress. When you find that you not only cannot control your responses to your Master, you don't even want to any more! You're a slave because you want to be a slave."

      There was a short silence as Helen digested Gemma's explanation, then she spoke only two words, "Like you?"

      "Like me, Mistress."

      "But don't you miss being free?"

      "Sometimes I do, of course, Mistress," a sad smile flickered Gemma's lips, "But I'm not free. My Masters take care of me and provide me with food and warmth and I have to believe that, in their own ways, they love me."

      "Yes, I can understand that," Helen said slowly, then asked, "Are you happy, Gemma? Truly happy with being a slavegirl?"

      Gemma pondered the question for long seconds, searching for the truth in her own mind and body, then held her head high and nodded firmly, "Yes, Mistress, I am. Six months ago I would never have believed I could be happy as a slavegirl, but I am. I've changed and I know it and accept it willingly. I'm a slavegirl, Mistress and I love what I am."

      Gemma's obvious sincerity and the sparkle of genuine joy in her soft brown eyes confirmed her words and Helen nodded in understanding.

      "Yes, I believe you do," she said softly, "Thank you for being honest, Gemma. You've answered a lot of questions I've been thinking about for some time and it can't have been easy for you."

      Gemma grinned, "My Master ordered me to answer you honestly, Mistress. If I had disobeyed him, I would have been punished."

      Helen grinned back, "Slavegirls have to obey at all times, right?"

      "Right, Mistress. Is there anything else you want to know?"

      "No, I don't think so.

      "Then may I ask you a question, Mistress?"

      "Yes, of course."

      "What is this all about, Mistress? I don't understand why you want to know all this?"

      Helen flushed, a bright red stain mantling her cheeks and dropped her eyes from Gemma's puzzled expression.

      "Well, it's like this...it's a bit embarrassing....I needed to know whether..." Helen's disjointed reply stumbled to a halt and Gemma watched in fascination as the pretty brunette took a deep breath, struggling to regain her poise.

      "I'll start again," she said more calmly after a few seconds, "It's like this. Steven and I have been together for about three months now and I really love him. He loves me, too, and wants me to move in here with him. The trouble is, he wants me to be his slavegirl. What he calls his love slave."

      Gemma's eyes opened wide and her belly quivered with arousal as she looked at Helen's pretty face and excellent body, visualising her kneeling naked before a Master! It was no wonder he wanted her as his slavegirl. Collared and in chains, forced to serve him in any way he desired, she would make a lovely slave and Steven obviously realised it.

      "I just can't make up my mind whether to say yes or no. I want to be with him and I trust him, so I don't mind giving him power of attorney over my investments and things so that money's no problem, but I'm a bit worried about the slavegirl idea. He's awfully keen on it and I really want to make him happy, but I don't know whether I can be submissive. What do you think, Gemma? After all, you've already done it, haven't you?"

      Gemma looked down at the smaller woman and marvelled. Helen was extremely attractive and  seemed to be quite well off. How could she even be considering giving all that up, to become a slavegirl?

      "Well...I don't really know, Mistress," she replied carefully, "I suppose it depends on finding the right Masters. I imagine any woman can be submissive if she wants it enough."

      "Yes, that's the conclusion I've come to. Steven keeps telling me that if I agree to be his slavegirl, he'll take care of everything. All I have to do is be obedient. It's certainly tempting and I really want us to stay together, because none of my other relationships has ever lasted. They always break up because I get restless and want to make things permanent before my partners are ready. This time, though, Steven is ready and I'm not sure I am! Do you think that if I agreed to what he wants he'd let me be free some of the time, Gemma? I mean, if he loves me, he wouldn't keep me tied up all the time or..or use his crop on me or anything, would he? That would be all right, I wouldn't mind as long as he wasn't too hard on me and it's not as if I'd have to obey lots of Masters like you have to, is it? Just Steven and I think I could enjoy having to do whatever he told me."

      It was clear to Gemma that Helen was just whistling in the dark, trying to persuade herself that submitting as a slavegirl to her lover was a sensible and logical choice rather than the wholly emotional decision it really was. Surely Helen must know that once she had submitted, there would be no going back? Her lover would become her Master and there was no way in the world that a Master, any Master, would permit a slavegirl to make demands or set conditions about what she would and would  not permit. Helen must be either incredibly naive or incredibly optimistic to think she would be given any say in what happened to her. The instant she knelt and gave her submission would be the instant that she became a full slavegirl, subject to her Master's will, his discipline and, if necessary, his crop! If she made the mistake of thinking for one moment that she was somehow different from any other slavegirl or, even more unwisely, immune to punishment, she was in for the biggest shock of her life!

      Gemma's brain raced through these thoughts as Helen gazed up at her, obviously hoping that Gemma would agree with her.

      It was a difficult dilemma for Gemma. On the one hand, her Master had instructed her to answer honestly, but on the other, Gemma could not know for certain that he would enforce complete submission on his lover if she agreed to be his slave. He might not intend to and if Gemma frightened Helen into refusing, he would probably blame her and punish her.

      Gemma licked her lips and chose her words with the greatest care, trying to strike a delicate balance between frightening the brunette and lulling her into a sense of security which might turn out to be entirely false and persuade her into doing something she would regret.

      "It's...difficult, Mistress," she compromised uncomfortably, "If you really love him and it's what you want, then agreeing to be his slavegirl is the right decision for you. I know it was right for me, Mistress, but, well, it may be a bit.. harder than you imagine. My Masters can be very demanding and even...cruel at times, so you really should think hard before you agree to submit. I'm sorry, Mistress, but I really can't advise you. It has to be your decision."

      Helen nodded, "Yes, I know that really, but thanks for trying. You see, Gemma, it's different for me. Steven loves me and I'm sure he won't treat me as unkindly as your Masters treat you. I've heard what you've told me and I appreciate it, but I don't think I need to worry. I think it's going to be great fun," and her full red lips curved into a happy smile.

      Gemma held her peace, knowing that she had done her best, but that it hadn't been enough. She had tried to warn Helen, but her veiled hints had been ignored and now the black haired woman would just have to live with her decision.

      Helen moved to Gemma's side and kissed her gently on the cheek, "That's for helping me make my mind up," she said softly, "And this is for showing me that slavery isn't always awful," and she pressed her lips to the offered curve of the helpless slavegirl's left breast!

      Gemma quivered in response, her arousal immediate and Helen giggled delightedly.

      "Please, Mistress," the low groan might have been a protest or a plea for more.

      "You liked that, didn't you?" Helen's dark eyes gleamed, "Would you like some more?"

      "Yes...No...Yes, Mistress. Please...Please kiss me again," Gemma was ashamed of her need, but longed to feel the lips again, her excitement fuelled by the thought that the raven haired beauty might..no, would..soon be a captive herself!

      Helen kissed her breast again, and then again and Gemma moaned softly as her nipple began to stiffen.

      "Hush now, Gemma," Helen whispered and the aroused slavegirl clamped her lips together obediently.

      A slim finger tapped the silver bell hanging from her right nipple and Gemma jerked, her eyes wide as the bell tinkled softly.

      "Those are really pretty. I like them." It didn't seem to have occurred to Helen that it might soon be her turn to have her breasts adorned by  tinkling bells and Sally wondered again how the brunette could have such a huge blind spot about her impending enslavement. Even with the evidence quite literally in front of her eyes, she just didn't seem to see it and Sally felt a surge of sympathy for the unsuspecting woman, remembering her own despair and disbelief as her body was pierced.

      Helen was thoroughly enjoying herself, her lips and fingers sending massive arousal through her silent victim and Gemma's breasts trembled and jiggled enticingly, her nipples thrusting like acorns and her bells tinkling continuously as she juddered to the stimulation.

      Helen jumped back as bolts rattled at the door and Gemma gulped as her Master entered the room, his eyes going immediately to her swollen breasts and glinting as he saw the unmistakable signs of his lover's efforts.

      "I see you two have been getting acquainted," he chuckled and both girls blushed redly, "Good, I'm glad you're getting on so well. I take it that you've finished your little chat, Helen?"

      "Yes, thank you, Steven. Gemma was very helpful."

      "Just as well," he said casually, "Otherwise she would have been in a lot of trouble. So, my dear, what do you think, then? Have you made your decision?"

      Helen's flush deepened and spread over her neck, "Well, yes, but let's not discuss it here, Steven."

      "Oh, I don't think we need keep any secrets from Gemma. Who would she tell?" he joked cruelly, "Come on, Helen, no need to be shy. I'm all agog to know what you've decided to do," and he gazed steadily down at his tiny, embarrassed lover.

      "You really are a rat, Steven," Helen protested and Gemma gasped at the brunette's temerity.

      Steven just smiled, but Gemma noticed that his eyes remained cold and knew that the insult had been stored away in his brain, to be repaid later.

      Helen, of course, hadn't noticed a thing, "Oh, all right, if you insist. I suppose that's fair as it's partly due to her explanations anyway. Yes, darling, I want to accept your offer. I will come and live here with you and be your sexy little slavegirl, but you've got to promise not to be cruel to me. OK?"

      "Terrific! That's wonderful news, Helen. Are you sure?"

      Helen reached up and gave him a passionate kiss, "Of course I'm sure, darling. I think it'll be great and I promise I'll obey like a slavegirl at least some of the time," and Helen laughed gaily.

      "In that case," her lover smiled easily, "I promise I'll be your Master for as long as you're a slavegirl," and his eyes sparkled with laughter.

      It was a careful choice of reply, giving Helen little cause for alarm or suspicion, but effectively ensnaring her in a trap of words. If he was to be her Master for as long as she was to be a slave, then she would have to be a slave for as long as he chose to be her Master! For ever, if he wished!

      He smiled into her eyes and gripped her arms, "If you are to be my love slave, honey, you must kneel down and submit to me, here and now, please."

      Helen hesitated, but only for a moment, then nodded and made as if to go to her knees.

      "No," he said firmly, "Not like that, Helen. You must be naked, with your hands clasped behind your back. Isn't that right, slavegirl?" and he stared hard at Gemma.

      Helen's jaw dropped open and she gaped as Gemma replied shakily, "Y..yes, Master. That...that is how a slavegirl sub...submits to a Master."

      "There now, Helen. You see? On your knees, my love and submit as a naked, humble slavegirl to me as your true Master" and Steven's eyes bored into hers as Helen shivered wildly.

      At last, with a convulsive gulp of excitement and fear, the tiny brunette nodded and Gemma watched in astonishment as the soon to be enslaved Helen stripped herself stark naked before her waiting lover and sank, trembling, to her knees, her shaking fingers tightly clasped behind her.

       "Thank you, Helen. Now say, I, Helen, submit myself of my own free will as your slave, my Master," Steven's voice was calm and almost hypnotic and Helen gasped audibly.

      "I, H..H..Helen, submit my..s..self of my own free w..will as your s..sl..slave, my M..Master," she stammered  and her naked shoulders quivered with excitement and emotion.

      "I accept your submission. You are now my slavegirl," Steven announced softly, "Do not move!" and he scooped up her clothes and hurried from the room, bolting the door.

      Helen looked up, "Steven? Where are you going? Come back," but she was too late. She rose to her feet and ran to hammer on the locked door, then turned to Gemma as she called urgently, "No, Mistress, don't! You were ordered not to move. If he finds you've disobeyed, you'll be punished!"

      "Punished? But...But he wouldn't. I won't let him."

      "Listen to me, please, Mist...Helen," Gemma told her fiercely, "Don't you understand, you knelt down and submitted. That makes you as much of a slavegirl as me! He'd punish me if I disobeyed and he'll do the same to you. You're a slavegirl, Helen. Really! Face it, you submitted to him. He's not Steven your lover any more, he's your Master and he can and will punish you if don't do exactly what he says. Kneel down again, please!"

      Gemma's frantic attempts to explain suddenly got through and Helen's lovely face crumpled as she realised what she had done, "I submitted," she whispered brokenly, "I called him Master. Oh, what have I done?" and her dark eyes filled with tears.

      The bolts grated at the door and Gemma straightened her spine quickly, her eyes filled with horror as she saw Helen still standing, as if frozen to the spot.  Her Master..and Helen's.. strode in and Gemma gasped as she saw his crop in his right hand, "Get back on your knees, slave," he snapped to his erstwhile lover, "I told you not to move."

      Helen seemed paralysed, her jaws working but no sound emerging and before she could recover, her new Master was upon her, overpowering her futile struggles as he forced her to her belly dragged her arms behind her and locked steel handcuffs on her wrists and ankles.

      "No! No, Steven, I forbid....Mmmffhh! Hhrrmmff!" Helen's shrill protests died to muffled screams as his strong fingers wedged a heavy leather gag between her jaws and buckled it cruelly tight.        He stood up and raised his riding crop and Helen screamed again behind her gag as he towered over her writhing nudity, "You submitted as my slavegirl and asked me to be your Master," he told her forcefully, "You may have thought it was not real or that I would not enforce your submission. You were wrong! I ordered you to remain on your knees and you disobeyed. That is not tolerated in a slavegirl and you will now be punished for it. As it is your first offence, I shall be lenient. Two strokes only."

      The crop whistled down, then descended again and Helen shrieked in pain and shame as two thin red lines appeared on her naked buttocks, her hands clawing vainly.

      "Your first punishment, slavegirl," he told her, "Learn from it, or it will not be your last."

      Gemma stared open mouthed as Helen was bound and then cropped, knowing the devastating horror that the newly enslaved brunette must be enduring, but could do absolutely nothing to help her.

      Her Master turned to her, "Did you tell my new slave what she might expect after she offered her submission, slavegirl?"

      "I did, Master, exactly as you commanded me."

      "Yes, I know you did, slavegirl. Did I tell you I was an engineer. No, well I am and I have to say I found her questions and your answers most enlightening. The microphones I have installed worked perfectly."

      Gemma gulped at the revelation, remembering how she had opened her heart to Helen, never dreaming that her Master was listening.

      Her Master chuckled, "I shall enjoy playing the tape to Helen whenever she seems to be regretting her submission," and he laughed cruelly as the naked, handcuffed brunette writhing in her bonds on the floor at his feet, whimpered in terrified anguish, "Still, there's plenty of time for that, but now I've got to make a phone call. You and I were due to go off tonight on that trip I told you about, slavegirl, but now I may have to rearrange a few things. Maybe I'll make our duo into a trio," and he strolled out of the door, not even bothering to close it behind him and leaving two helplessly bound and extremely frightened slavegirls to their fears.

CHAPTER 13

      Had anyone been present and able to read Gemma's thoughts, they would doubtless have wondered at her state of mind in comparison to her seemingly unenviable predicament.

      Gemma was happy, blissfully so, and the fact that she was tightly bound and gagged, her naked body arched in the graceful but uncomfortable bow of a hogtie, was of little consequence to her.

      The reasons for her surprising good humour lay partly in the delicious swirls of heat circling in her belly from a slowly fading climax, and partly in the sight of the familiar wooden transportation crate only a few feet from her. For the very first time, she was not helplessly immured within its wooden walls and despite the facts that she still didn't know where she was being taken, or what she was going to find when she got there, or that she was no less securely bound than she would have been inside the crate, Gemma still felt as though she was better off and, somehow, less helpless than poor little  Helen, who was the unfortunate occupant of the wooden box.

      It was nearly a week after Helen had made the fateful mistake of underestimating her lover's desire to enslave her and knelt before him to offer her submission, never expecting that he would immediately handcuff her and enforce his will with absolute and uncompromising ruthlessness! She had been paying for that miscalculation ever since and would continue to pay, for Steven who had been her lover until he became her Master, had made it crystal clear that he had no intention of letting her go back on the submission she had given. From the first moment the cuffs closed on her shrinking flesh, they had never been taken off completely, always holding at least one wrist and one ankle to something solid and immovable, or clamping both wrists snugly behind her back.

      To Gemma's secret delight and the despair of her newly enslaved sister in bondage, their Master had ordered Gemma to instruct Helen in the duties of a slavegirl and warned his new junior slavegirl, Helen, that she was to obey her senior, Gemma, as if she was him!

      Helen had tried to protest, but it was a total waste of breath and earned her two stripes of his crop, followed by an order to kneel and pledge her obedience to Gemma. With her buttocks smarting and her eyes filled with tears of pain and shame, she had to do as she was told or receive another punishment.

      Unsurprisingly, Helen chose the sensible option and accepted Gemma's temporary authority over her and in the succeeding four days worked as hard as she had ever worked in her life, Gemma constantly encouraging her and reminding her that her Master would be far less tolerant of mistakes.

      At night, they talked for hours, Helen asking dozens of questions about Gemma's experiences as a slavegirl, until she had to order the smaller girl to keep quiet and go to sleep.

      Twice every day, their Master fed them both by hand, Helen copying Gemma's unquestioning acceptance of the demeaning process, then Helen had to demonstrate what she had learned, her face scarlet with embarrassment as she displayed her breasts and belly and bottom to the man who had been her equal and her lover, but whose handcuffs now held her captive and subject to his stinging crop and rigid discipline.

      To both slavegirl's surprise, he didn't arouse or take either of them and they couldn't help but wonder why not?

      Then, one day he unexpectedly unlocked the room where Gemma was busy putting Helen through her paces. Both girls went instantly to their knees and held their submissive poses as he cuffed Helen's wrists, then he ordered them to follow him, telling Gemma to keep a tight hold on Helen.

      Gemma recognised the travel crate at once and knew she would soon be on her travels once more, but when Helen was close enough to see the strong leather straps and sound deadening foam lining the crate, she went wild with terror, wrenching at her handcuffs and trying to tear her arm from Gemma's grip. In vain, Gemma tried to calm her fears, telling her struggling slave sister how she had travelled in the box and how safe and relatively comfortable it was, but Helen wouldn't listen and it eventually took Gemma, her Master and the threat of a cropping for both of his slaves, to persuade the trembling, sobbing Helen to climb into the crate. Strap by strap, her body was immobilised and as her gag was wedged deep into her mouth, her horrified eyes and the futile clenching of her bound limbs brought a sympathetic stinging to Gemma's eyes.

      It was then that their joint Master decided to exert his absolute power over them.

      Locking Gemma's wrists behind her, he bent her over the open crate and ordered her to arouse Helen's breasts with her lips and tongue, reinforcing his shameful demand with a cruelly hard slash of his crop across Gemma's stretched buttocks! Her yelp of anguish was followed a second later by Helen's muffled shriek of outraged shock as the helpless brunette felt Gemma's lips capture her taut right breast and her moist, warm tongue lap delicately at her crinkled flesh!

      Punished once, Gemma dare not disobey and her own arousal flared as she was forced to bring both of Helen's responsive nipples to throbbing rigidity, her mouth moving from one surprisingly large, coffee brown button of flesh to the other, in obedience to her Master's commands as he stood by her side, his crop ready to strike, gazing down at his new slavegirl's quivering breasts and savouring the  intensity of her shame as she was tormented for his pleasure.

      Warning Gemma not to stop, he moved behind her, thrust her legs roughly apart and sank his hard maleness deep into her belly, the instinctive arching of her neck met with a sharp cut from his crop and a terse command to continue arousing Helen. He took her quickly, with fast, deep lunges and Gemma gasped through her nose, her lips and tongue never ceasing to inflict devastating havoc on Helen's breasts, her own body spiralling towards climax as he neared his peak.

      He came massively and Gemma screamed her ecstasy into Helen's palpitating breast as his seed fountained into her belly to release her own furious needs. Taken ruthlessly, Gemma sagged limply over the crate, her face pillowed on Helen's ample breasts as her belly bucked and pulsed in climax, no trace of shame able to complete with the fierce joy of her surrender to her Master.

      It was several minutes before Gemma could lift her head and as she did so, her eyes met Helen's horrified stare.

      Not having been given permission to speak, Gemma tried to give her what reassurance she could, with a weak smile and an almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders, designed to convey the message that she was sorry for what she had had to do to her, but she had no choice.

      Helen's eyes didn't change and Gemma knew she hadn't understood, but then it was too late, their Master closing the lid over the small brunette and securing the catches.

      A short length of chain from a nearby ringbolt to her collar ensured Gemma wouldn't stray and she watched as her Master bent and lifted the crate and its helpless contents in his strong arms and took it from the room, returning a few minutes later to unclip her chain and take her on the same, short trip.

      The crate sat in the back of a closed van, lashed down to rings in the floor and in a very few moments, Gemma, too, was secured in a similar manner, lying on her right side, her wrists and ankles linked by a short strap and others at her collar and ankles holding her still. As he bent to gag her, he smiled and told her that she had done well in her training of Helen and she crinkled her eyes in thanks. Then his hands went to her breasts and she gasped with instant arousal as he caressed her gently and chuckled that it didn't seem fair to him that Helen should be the only one to have erect nipples and that, very soon, she wouldn't be! Unable, and most definitely unwilling, to evade his touch, Gemma rocked back and forth the inch or two her bonds allowed, her passion rekindled as he toyed with her hogtied nudity, her breasts and belly drum tight with desire despite her previous climax.

      She froze, her eyes growing wide as his extended finger found the puckered ring of her anal passage and she shook her head pleadingly as it pressed firmly, demanding admittance.

      He grinned evilly and ordered her to relax her clenched buttocks and she blushed a vivid red as she reluctantly obeyed. One finger, and then another, breached the tight circle and Gemma groaned in despairing shame as, in spite of her wishes, her muscles contracted to draw his fingers deeper into her body.

      Calmly and quite deliberately, he combined caresses of her sensitive nipples with the slow, careful probing of his fingers to drive Gemma out of control, her breasts straining forward to meet his touch and her buttocks pushing backwards with a voluptuous rotating movement as she succumbed to the overpowering sensations.

      Her orgasm, when it came, was more powerful than Gemma had imagined, but less explosive, seeming almost to slide into her belly in a long, smooth sweep, rather than the abrupt crash she was more used to...but it was no less pleasurable for that and she surrendered no less deeply, her body melting into a warm, delicious haze as she came. He left her then  and as her climax swirled around her belly and its power slowly diminished, she smiled into her gag in pure happiness.

      The steady purr of the van's engine was very restful and Gemma slipped in and out of a shallow doze as the journey progressed, her body using the time to refresh itself after her exertions.

      Steady braking brought her back to full wakefulness and as the van came to a halt and her Master walked through from the driving cab, she looked up at him eagerly, wondering where she was and what would happen next.

      "Relax, slavegirl," he told her, "We're not there yet. This is just a little diversion to drop Helen off before we carry on with our trip."

      He saw the surprise in Gemma's eyes and chuckled mirthlessly, "Yes," he said, "I know. You thought she was coming with us, didn't you? So did Helen, but you're both wrong. Another van will be here any minute and Helen will be transferring to it, but we will not. One of the phone calls I made was to some old friends of yours, Gemma. I'm sure you remember your trainers, don't you?"

      Gemma shivered and her eyes went involuntarily to the crate containing the other brunette. She remembered the two women and the man who had begun her training only too well...and it was not a happy memory, the recollection of their rigidly enforced discipline and stinging punishments still vivid in her mind. Now Helen was to be forced to undergo the same painful education and Gemma did not envy her one little bit.

      "I see that you do, slavegirl," he went on coldly, "Good, then a few words of advice from you to her might save her some unnecessary suffering," and he unbuckled her gag, then went to the crate and lowered the end panel to reveal Helen's nude and hopelessly immobilised body.

      Gemma spat out the large rubber ball in her mouth and looked to her Master for permission to speak.

      "I'll give you thirty seconds or so to tell her what's going to happen to her, slavegirl."

      Gemma didn't waste any time, "Listen to me, Helen," she demanded urgently, "This is very important to you. You're not coming with us, you're going to stay here to be trained. Just like I was when I was a new slavegirl. You'll have three trainers and please believe me, they are tough! Much tougher than you can even imagine! They will make you obey, no matter how much you fight and they'll crop you every time you do something wrong. For your own sake, be sensible, Helen! Do exactly what they say, no matter what it is and youll be all right. It's your only chance."

      "That's enough, slavegirl," and Gemma stared imploringly at the lovely, black haired girl bound so securely in the travel crate as her Master thrust the gag back between her teeth. She had tried and all she could hope was that Helen would take her warning to heart and act on it. If she didn't, she was in for a very unpleasant and painful time.

      The sound of a second vehicle driving up heralded the arrival of Helen's trainers and Gemma shivered as the familiar faces climbed into the van where she lay.

      "Ah, how nice to see you again, slave," one of the female trainers stood over her, the woman's eyes glinting with amusement as looked down at Gemma's hogtied body, "What a pity it isn't you that needs training. I enjoyed making you obey and your body was most delightfully responsive to the whip!"

      "It still is," her Master confirmed cheerfully and Gemma blushed as the woman gave a predatory smile, "I'm sure it is. But should she ever need retraining, I would be most happy to take her on..."

      "I'll bear that in mind, but for now, it is my new slavegirl who needs your services," and Gemma slumped with relief as the trainers and her Master moved to the crate and stared down, Helen's barely audible squeals of horror telling of her helpless misery and anguish as her naked body was examined in humiliating detail.

      The crate was then resealed and Gemma was left on her own as it was transferred to the trainer's vehicle, but her spirits sank to rock bottom as a second, identical crate was carried in and prepared for her. Released from her hogtie, but under the watchful gaze of her Master and the three trainers, she had little choice but to step into the crate and allow herself to be strapped into place, her body equally as helpless and defenceless as Helen's had been.

      The exchange completed, the trainers took their leave to begin their work and Gemma's Master bent low over her, "We have a long way to go, slavegirl," he informed her, "This may help to relieve the boredom," and his fingers found her breasts.

      The breath burst from Gemma's nostrils in an explosive grunt and she tensed against her bonds as he rolled and caressed her ringed nipples, but the straps had been designed specifically to prevent a slavegirl's movement and held her with embarrassing ease.

      Hopelessly aroused, her breasts throbbing and belly burning with unsatisfied lust, Gemma could only stare in mute supplication as her Master closed the lid on her torment and snapped the catches to seal her in the dark, silent interior of the transport crate.

      The van sped off and Gemma whimpered into her gag, her body helpless prey to the surging arousal forced upon her, but unable to do anything to alleviate its effects as the miles went by.

      As her Master had warned, the journey was long...but not so long that her body had time to calm and as the van braked to a halt, she felt her nipples stiffen again in anticipation.

      Her wooden prison was lifted and carried a short distance, then she felt a jolt as it was lowered, but to her dismay the lid was not opened. Time went by and her anxiety grew as the crate remained firmly sealed, her mind racing as she tried to imagine the cause of the delay in releasing her.

      Distantly, through the thick sound proofing lining her crate, she heard the coughing roar of an engine starting up and felt its vibrations tingle up through her buttocks. A second engine joined in, the vibrations redoubling and the vehicle began to move forward, its wheels bumping over an uneven surface as it accelerated rapidly. The jolting stopped and Gemma felt an invisible weight press her down into the foam lining the box .

      Sudden understanding crashed into her brain and she gave a breathy squeal of shock. She was in an aircraft! The engines, the jolting, the sudden weight, it all fell into place. A small 'plane taking off from a grass airfield!

      Hard on the heels of that realisation came another, much, much more worrying. She was being flown out of the country, far away from any hope of escape or rescue! Her brain raced feverishly, arousal forgotten as she tried to work out where her possible destination might be, but without knowing the speed of the 'plane, or how far it could fly on a full load of fuel, or even what direction it was heading, the task was beyond her.

      The engines droned on, carrying Gemma farther and farther into the unknown and she closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax, suspecting that she would need all of the mental and physical reserves she could find when the 'plane landed.

      A change in the engine's note woke her from a deep sleep and as she blinked dazedly, she realised that she could have been unconscious for hours.

      The 'plane bounced with a shrill squeal of rubber, then settled on its wheels and rolled gradually to a halt, Gemma sucking in a deep breath to calm her renewed fears. Once again the crate was lifted and moved, once again, she waited for it to be opened and once again, she was disappointed as, unknown to her, she was carried from the 'plane by two uniformed sailors, taken down to a tiny, abandoned harbour and placed aboard a powerful inflatable motor boat.

Her Master took his seat, the sailors cast off the mooring ropes and sent the craft skimming over the calm blue sea towards a huge, white, two masted sailing yacht waiting offshore.

            Brilliant sunshine dazzled Gemma as the lid of her prison was thrown back and she screwed up her eyes against the fierce glare, aware of two dark shapes above her. Her pupils narrowed, adjusting, and she gave a muffled squeal of horror. The two shapes were men. Men dressed in white short sleeved shirts and blue shorts, their thick, black, curly hair matched by luxuriant moustaches and their eyes invisible behind dark glasses.

      Gemma didn't know either of them and her naked body trembled violently, terrified that she had been sold by The Consortium and these two men were her new Masters!

      They bent over her and unbuckled the straps securing her, then pulled her arms behind her back, locked her wrist cuffs and lifted her from the travelling crate.

      A great gasp of relief leaked past her gag as she saw her Master deep in conversation with two other men, their backs to her, but her relief gave way to growing apprehension as the men turned towards her and she recognised Matthew and Nicos!

      Gripped by the two muscular strangers, Gemma stared around at her surroundings, realising for the first time that she was on a yacht. Even to her untutored eye, the yacht was magnificent, gleaming with spotless paint and varnish, the teak deck beneath her feet scrubbed smooth, polished brass and steel glinting in the sunshine and pristine white sails neatly furled on the booms of the two immensely tall masts.

      Her mind flew back to her time as a slavegirl to Axel and Nicos and her belly gave a thrilling lurch as she remembered Nicos telling her that his yacht had room for a slave. This must be his yacht...and she was unquestionably a slave!

      As Steven, Matthew and Nicos strolled across the expanse of teak deck towards her. the two men holding her released their grip and stepped back. Immediately, Gemma sank gracefully to her knees and presented her body to her Masters.

      "Welcome to my yacht,slavegirl," Nicos greeted her genially, "I have been looking forward to having you aboard."

      Gemma swallowed hard, knowing full well that 'having her aboard' could be interpreted two different ways and that he would ensure that she experienced both

      Behind her, a deep, harsh voice spoke in a language she did not recognise and Nicos replied briefly in the same language. The two men, crew members she now assumed, moved away, heading forward and Nicos chuckled, "My crew were asking if I still needed their help with you, slavegirl," he told her, "I said I thought I could manage," he chuckled again, "They're good crewmen, but luckily for you, they like boys. Unlike the three of us, who most definitely prefer slavegirls."

      Matthew nodded his distinguished grey head, "Yes," he agreed, "Very obedient ones," and he gazed sternly at Gemma until she dropped her eyes submissively.

      "Can we get back under the awning?" Steven asked, "It's like an oven out here and I'm not used to this heat." 

      "Yes, of course. Some shade and a nice cool drink will help. Come, slavegirl," this last addressed to Gemma, who rose to her feet and followed her Masters as they walked beneath a white canvas canopy shading half a dozen thickly upholstered deck chairs and a scattering of low tables.

      "Kneel beside my chair, slavegirl and keep still," Nicos ordered sinking into a seat, then turned to Steven, "Call the stewardess, will you please? Just ring that bell by your side."

      Almost before the last note of the bell died away, there was a soft rattle of chains and Gemma gaped in astonishment as the tall, slim figure of Clarissa hurried to respond to the summons.

      Utterly naked apart from a steel chastity belt around her loins, her wrists and ankles linked by glittering chain running through a central ring on her belt, she went to her knees before Steven and bowed her head, "What may I do to serve you, Master?" she asked softly, "Command me and I will obey," and her long red hair swayed to the trembling of her shoulders.

      Steven looked down at the fettered slavegirl kneeling at his feet and smiled cruelly, "Well, well, if it isn't the lovely Clarissa. And in chains, too. What's this, Matthew, I thought Clarissa was your personal love slave? Or has she been found wanting in her duties?"

      The older Master chuckled and shook his head, "Clarissa knows better than to be found wanting, dear boy. She knows it would be both foolish and painful. No, no, it's nothing like that. As you say, she is my love slave, but it would have been most discourteous of me to accept Nicos' generous hospitality and contribute nothing in return, so I have offered Clarissa's services to him and, of course, his guests, for the duration of our visit."

      There was a clink of chain as Clarissa shuddered and Gemma's eyes filled with tears of pity for the humiliated redhead, remembering how keenly she had envied Clarissa's obvious devotion to Matthew, her love Master. To find herself offered to another Master, to be used as he and his guests saw fit, must have come as a dreadful shock to her and Gemma could only imagine her futile horror as her Master's offer was accepted.

      "Is that so?" Steven rubbed his chin, "Very generous of you, my friend. Sadly, my new slavegirl has just begun her training and will not be ready for several weeks."

      His deliberately offhand announcement created quite a stir as he had known it would and for several minutes he fielded questions from the other two Masters regarding Helen's enslavement and his plans for her future.

      Kneeling beside Nicos' chair, her body beautifully offered, Gemma listened, appalled, as Helen's fate was discussed by the three Masters and she could not control the shudder that racked her body as she learned that Helen's large nipples were to be pierced for rings similar to her own.

      Nicos reached down casually and hooked a finger in the ring through her left nipple, "Keep still, slavegirl! I shall not warn you again," and Gemma froze, hardly daring to breathe and horribly aware that he could cause her terrible pain without even moving from his seat!

      Totally cowed, controlled by a single finger, she was helpless as Matthew and Nicos congratulated Steven on his new slave, then decided that such good fortune should be toasted in champagne.

      "Stewardess!"

      Clarissa lifted her head, her green eyes filled with despair, "What may I do to serve you, Master? Command me and I will obey."

      "Champagne and three glasses."

      "At once, Master," Clarissa rose to her feet with fluid grace, the chains on her limbs clinking softly and hurried back inside the cabin.

      "Will she be able to serve champagne in those chains?" Steven asked interestedly.

      Matthew shrugged, "It may be difficult for her, but life for a slavegirl is often difficult. She'll manage, I expect and if she needs encouragement, well, we'll give it to her," and he flexed an imaginary crop between his hands.

      "Mmm. I'd enjoy that," Steven said slowly, "Would you mind if I gave her a taste of the crop?"

      "Not at all. My crop is in my cabin. Send Clarissa to fetch it when she has served the drinks, if you like."

      "Thank you, I will."

      Nicos waved his free arm expansively, "That's one advantage of a sailing yacht. Plenty of ropes and cleats."

      Gemma looked around and realised he was right. Apart from the two tall masts, there were the horizontal booms high above the deck, goal post shaped supports that the booms rested on, vertical steel ladders up to the open steering position, dozens of wires supporting the mast...and everywhere she looked, ropes. Thick, thin, all colours and every one neatly coiled to hang from its own cleat.

      The options for securing a slavegirl were virtually endless!

      A rattle of chains announced Clarissa's return, a bottle of champagne and three glasses balanced on a silver tray, her brow furrowed in concentration. Under the eyes of her three Masters and Gemma, she sank to her knees to place the tray on a low table and poured the champagne, careful not to spill a drop of the golden liquid. Then, one at a time, she took a glass to each of her Masters, going to her knees before him and pressing her lips to the glass before proffering it to him.

      It was a thrillingly submissive display of servitude and Sally felt her groin grow wet as she watched, wondering if she, too, would be made to serve a Master so humbly and so well.

      Clarissa picked up the tray, then turned to face her Masters, "May I serve you in any other way, Masters?" she asked, her cheeks burning redly.

      "Yes, Fetch the crop from my cabin," Matthew ordered, "Master Steven wishes to use it on you."

      For a split second, the redhead teetered on the brink of refusing the order, her eyes flashing with anger at the unfairness of the command, but then her ingrained training took over and she lowered her head, whispering, "At once, Master," and hurried away, her spine stiff with useless fury.

      Matthew chuckled, "I love that dam' girl, but you can't give her an inch," he growled, "She loves being a slavegirl, but never stops pushing to see if I'll let her get away with something. When you've finished with her, I'll give her an extra half dozen, just so she knows that I didn't miss the look in her eye just now."

      Nicos looked down at Gemma, "We will stay a while and watch the first part of Clarissa's disciplining, then I shall take you to my cabin, slavegirl," and he smiled coldly as Gemma's belly kicked powerfully, "Serve me well, slavegirl, or it will be your turn next to feel the crop."

      Gemma chewed on her gag, wishing she could tell him that he wouldn't need it. The shock of being flown to a foreign country, of finding herself aboard his yacht, of seeing Clarissa's deliciously erotic subjugation, of knowing that she would be made to watch as the redhead was whipped for no other reason than to amuse her Masters, had all combined to stir Gemma's physical and emotional senses into a turmoil of masochistic desire which his casual assumption of authority over her body did nothing to alleviate!

      "Move between my legs, slavegirl, your back to me and sit back on your heels."

      As she obeyed, his hands snaked over her shoulders and clamped over her breasts, forcing a groan of pleasure from her, "Not another sound, slavegirl. Now, watch."

      Clarissa returned and knelt before Steven, the gleaming black crop held out in  her hand as she looked up at him

      "Is that how I trained to you to offer the crop? I think not!" Matthew was not happy, "Now do it again and do it properly! And while you do it, you can think about the six strokes I shall give you for embarrassing me in front of my friends!"

      Clarissa shuddered in fear, then kissed the crop, her pink tongue licking the leather voluptuously, before thrusting her head down and offering the whip again on the palms of her outstretched hands.

      "Hmmff. Better," Matthew snorted, "Don't hold back when you beat her, Steven. Impertinent little slavegirl bitch needs a lesson in manners."

      Steven took the crop and hauled Clarissa to her feet, pushing the trembling redhead towards a pair of large wooden cleats set close together into the deck and forcing her to her knees. Using all the slack in her chains, he looped her wrists to one and her ankles to the other, holding her on all fours, her spine curved and buttocks raised, the taut stretched cheeks of her bottom bisected by the steel band of her chastity belt running through between her legs.

      Poor Clarissa was terribly vulnerable and clearly knew it, for as Steven ran his hand over her tensed flesh, she gave a gasping moan and weaved her buttocks as if to evade his touch.

      It was never going to be enough and as he raised the crop and brought it down with a wristy flick, she screamed in terrible anguish, her body shuddering violently as a bright red stripe decorated her left buttock and blistering heat seared into her naked flesh.

      Gemma wanted to look away, but, somehow, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the appalling sight and sound of Clarissa's punishment and felt her belly churn with liquid heat as the crop rose and fell and the redhead screamed and writhed wildly.

      Nicos chuckled into her ear, "Excites you, does it, slavegirl?" he whispered cruelly, "Don't worry, I've known lots of slavegirls and every one of them got hot when they saw another slave being whipped! You're no different, it's just part of what you are. Your nature."

      Gemma blushed furiously and wriggled in shame, but then, as his fingers rolled her tender nipples and great waves of overwhelming arousal rippled through her breasts and down into her belly, she knew he was right! She was excited by the scene before her eyes, was shamefully turned on by the mesh of whip stripes criss crossing Clarissa's naked bottom! Exactly as he had known she would be!

      She nestled back deeper between his legs, wriggling sensually against the hard bulge of his maleness and hoping that it would not be too long before it was between her legs, her eyes fixed on the developments taking place in front of her.

      Matthew had joined Steven and was busily unlocking Clarissa's chastity belt, removing the section which ran between her legs...and the redhead's only protection!

      "Interesting," Nicos murmured, "Watch this closely, slavegirl. I do believe Matthew is annoyed enough to make Clarissa climax to the crop."

      Gemma gasped, knowing that being forced to climax in such a manner would be the crowning humiliation for Clarissa. Bad enough to be cropped in front of three Masters and another slavegirl, but to be made to come as well....!

      "You have been cropped by Master Steven, slavegirl," Matthew told the trembling redhead sternly, "Now I shall punish you for failing to obey instantly and for daring to offer a crop to a Master without first kissing it. You will receive twelve strokes and climax to the whip!"

      "No, Master! Please, I beg you, Master!" Clarissa's terror was obviously genuine.

      "Silence! How dare you? One more word and the punishment doubles!" Matthew roared and Clarissa trembled like an aspen.

      The crop whistled down, cruelly hard and the redhead jerked madly at her chains as she was beaten by her adored love Master, but she uttered not a sound as he administered her punishment.

      The twelfth stroke burned across her buttocks and Matthew instantly reversed the crop and thrust the leather handle between her juddering thighs.

      Clarissa's legs snapped shut, pulling the crop from Matthew's hand and her neck arched until the slim column of her throat lay bare, her lips drawn back from her teeth in a silent scream of ecstasy and her belly pulsing visibly. Before the gaze of her three Masters and her sister slave, Clarissa hurtled into a shattering climax, spasming helplessly in her jangling chains, the crop projecting from between her clenching buttocks and jiggling up and down as she came and came in massive contractions!

      Nicos turned Gemma's head until he could stare into her eyes, "Clarissa has served her Masters," he said firmly, "Now you will serve me. On your feet, slavegirl." Gemma rose gracefully and preceded her Master from the deck and down into the hull of his yacht, her belly boiling like a cauldron and her sex oozing wetly.

      He flung open a pair of double doors, "In," he grated hoarsely and Gemma found herself in a huge, superbly appointed cabin dominated by a vast bed with beautifully carved, hand crafted teak rails running the full length of its head and foot. She had little time to appreciate her sumptuous surroundings, for Nicos seized her, bent her over the rail at the bed's foot, took a short chain from beneath the covers and snapped it into the ring on her steel collar, holding her doubled over.

      He spread her legs wide, "Don't move, slavegirl!" and Gemma whimpered, her belly seething and churning as he prepared himself to take her.

      His fingers caressed her gently, sliding over the wet flesh of her parted labia and Gemma squealed, her legs half buckling beneath her as he sighed with pleasure to find her so ready, "I shall take you now, like the hot little slavegirl you are," he told her, his voice thick with lust, "And you will submit to me as your Master. But I have not forgotten my promise to you, the last time I saw you. Later, when I choose, you will pleasure me with your lips and your tongue, kneeling before me as my bondage slave."

      Gemma's nervous gulp changed to frantic whimpers of joyous welcome as her Master's hard maleness slid into her slickly receptive sex and buried itself full length in her quaking belly, his fingers burrowing beneath her to capture and stimulate the rigid flesh of her ringed nipples.

      Aroused beyond bearing, a first gigantic orgasm thundered into her belly, drowning her in a boiling flood of scalding love juices as she came helplessly, unable to resist the tremendous power of her lusts.

      Nicos grunted and gathered himself, then began a smooth, rhythmic pumping of his hips, pistoning into Gemma's heated sex and belly while her juices continued to spray down. Her eyes widened, but she was held at his mercy and could do nothing to prevent his continued ravishing of her spasming body....or the rapid growth of a second climax building in her belly as his thrusts increased in power.

      From on deck, a faint wailing scream reached Gemma's ears and her own passion inched even higher as she heard Clarissa's surrender and knew that, both above and below decks, helpless, desperate slavegirls were being forced to submit utterly to ruthlessly dominant Masters!

      Buried deep in her belly, her Master grew even larger and she squealed in fear as he lunged to her very core, his rigid shaft beginning to throb and pulse as he neared his peak. His fingers squeezed her nipples, then tugged sharply at her rings and she shrieked in wonderful anguish as the tiny pain drove her over the edge into a stupendous orgasm, her internal muscles clamping like a vice around her Master's maleness and her belly exploding in coruscating pulses of ecstatic rapture! In response, he began to judder and jerk as his climax broke and Gemma screamed her abject, willing submission as his seed jetted into her belly and they came together.

      To her dismay, he slid from her immediately, "Very good, slavegirl. I shall be back later," and her eyes filled with tears as he left her to her bondage.

      But then, Gemma was a only slavegirl and her misery meant nothing to Masters!

CHAPTER 14

      Gemma knelt on the teak deck of her Master's yacht, her head lowered submissively in the position ordered. For once, she was neither bound nor gagged, but her freedom, such as it was, was an illusion, for the yacht was at anchor in the shallow blue lagoon of a small, uninhabited island and there was nowhere for her to go even if she had dared to try to escape. She stole a glance to her left and met the downcast green eyes of Clarissa, the slim redhead kneeling as humbly and patiently as Gemma as the pair waited for their Masters to appear on the deck.

      "What do you think they're going to do with us?" Gemma whispered, her lips hardly moving.

      "No idea," Clarissa replied softly, "But you can bet it'll be awful. I don't know why, but they're being really tough on us."

      "Yes, I know," Gemma agreed feelingly, "As if it wasn't hard enough already. I wonder what...?" Both girls froze as their Masters came on deck and strode towards them, the three men  relaxed and confident as they looked down at their naked captives.

      Head down, a shiver of anxious anticipation warmed Gemma's belly as bundles of leather straps and metal buckles were dropped casually in front of her and Clarissa.

      "Put them on and make quite sure they are tight. I shall be checking them personally."

      The order came from Clarissa's Master, Matthew and both slavegirls knew that he would take pleasure in punishing them if the gags were not uncomfortably tight enough to satisfy him.

      Gemma picked up the one of the evilly gleaming gag and opened her mouth wide to encompass the thick cylinder of hard leather, pressing it deep between her jaws to lodge firmly between her back teeth as her fingers threaded the steel buckle behind her neck and pulled the strap as tight as she could. Her cheeks bulged and her nostrils flared as she as she gagged herself with the thick rod, but she dared not disobey and consoled herself with the moist heat building between her thighs as she passed a split strap each side of her nose and over the crown of her head, buckling it equally tightly. A third strap, beneath her chin, forced her to bite down on the leather rod, completing her silencing and she dropped her hands to the small of her naked back to await the next command.

      A padlock clamped her wrist cuffs together and she shivered as Master Matthew's fingers tugged at her gag, the dominant male assuring himself that his captives had not attempted to win themselves the smallest laxity in their gag-harnesses.

      "Adequate," he said finally, a note of disappointment clear in his tone and Gemma allowed herself to relax fractionally, relieved that he had not been able to find a reason to inflict punishment on his slaves.

      "Don't sound so disappointed, Matthew," Master Nicos chuckled softly, "You'll get your chance. We all will, my friend. Just as soon as we get our little pigeons..our very quiet little pigeons..ashore."

      His low chuckle and the cruel laughter of his companions sent a tingle of fright racing through the two helpless slavegirls and as he snapped, "Up, slaves," Gemma and Clarissa rose hurriedly to their feet and arched their bodies in the graceful and absolute exposure of the Display position, their wide, anxious eyes filling with alarm as they saw that each of their three Masters carried a riding crop and what appeared to be a long-barrelled air pistol in their hands!

      "Oh, don't worry, slavegirls," he grinned at the terrified slaves, "These won't hurt you. You explain, Matthew. Put their minds at rest," and his grin grew wider.

      "Pay attention!" the older Master ordered and four frightened eyes stared in growing horror as he explained that the pistols were designed to fire balls of paint, each of a different colour, so that when a target was hit, the shooter could be identified.

      Which was all very well, until, to gag stifled groans from Gemma and Clarissa, he went on to explain that they were to be the targets!

      His eyes gleamed with a predatory menace as he heard the muffled and futile protests of his captive audience, then added the final twist to the slavegirls' misery.

      "Whoever shoots you," he sneered cruelly, "Gets to have you however they want! And in case you think you'll be able to run away or hide," he mocked, "You won't! The paint in these guns contains a derivative of the anaesthetic used for operations in hospitals. It won't knock you out, but it will paralyse your limbs for about twenty minutes! It's quite safe and very, very effective."

      Gemma stared wildly at her grinning Master, then at the merciless faces surrounding her and felt her body begin to tremble uncontrollably as she realised the awful fate about to befall her.

      Hunted like animals, cornered and shot with the paralysing drug, she and Clarissa would be utterly helpless, their bodies unable to move, unable to escape, unable, even, to put up token resistance against their bonds!

      Clarissa squealed into her gag as her love-Master, Matthew, sent his crop hissing across her naked buttocks, then scurried to the side of the yacht and clambered awkwardly down into the inflatable motor boat bobbing alongside, her green eyes wide with pain and the shame of her enforced obedience.

      Ordered to follow, Gemma obeyed instantly, hoping to avoid Clarissa's punishment and sank to her knees, head down, as the Masters got into the boat and Master Nicos sent it speeding towards the gleaming white beach.

      The island, little more than a low spit of sand a few hundred yards long and less than half that in width, boasted only a small clump of trees in its centre, the rest being covered in short, springy grass and stunted bushes and as she looked at it, Gemma's heart sank. The chances of her hiding from the Masters for more than a very few minutes was out of the question and she swallowed nervously, well aware that she could not hope to evade capture...and what her capture would mean.

      "Right, then," Master Nicos' voice was brisk, "You've got five minutes, then we come after you. We're the hunters, you're the game, so make it a good hunt or otherwise we may have to encourage you," and his fingers tapped meaningfully at the crop at his waist.

      For a long moment, Gemma snatched a glance at Clarissa and saw her own helpless misery and despair mirrored in the redhead's gagged face...but then a crop cracked against her unsuspecting bottom and Master Steven's voice cautioned, "You're wasting precious time, slavegirl."

      With a muffled groan, Gemma broke into a clumsy run, her buttocks smarting and bound wrists bumping behind her as she sought to distance herself from her cruel Masters and their stinging whips. In seconds she reached the clump of trees, but they were far too few to present a hiding place and she hurried on, her eyes seeking desperately for somewhere to conceal herself.

      To her left, she heard Clarissa's footfalls and instinctively turned away, guessing that to be found together would get them both punished for not trying hard enough. Clarissa must have had the same thought, for her steps moved away as the redhead looked for her own hiding place.

      But there was nowhere and Gemma moaned bitterly as her gaze swept over bare sand and short grass and the few stubby bushes available to her.

      A not very distant shout warned her that the Masters were coming and she threw herself down behind the largest bush she could see, wriggling her body into the hot sand and taking advantage of what little cover the straggly plant offered and staring anxiously back through the sparse foliage to where the pursuit would appear.

      Two figures appeared almost at once and Gemma shuddered with horror as she recognised Nicos and Steven.

      As calm and relaxed as if they were out for a Sunday stroll rather than hunting a naked slavegirl, the two dominants ambled almost directly towards the bush hiding Gemma and the trembling brunette ducked her head swiftly as they appeared to look straight at her.

      The sudden movement was her downfall, attracting the attention of Master Steven, who gave a loud whoop of discovery and ran towards her, pointing his gun as he came.

      There was nowhere for Gemma to run and with no way to resist, the terrified slavegirl did the only thing she could. With a convulsive heave of her shoulders, she rolled onto her knees, spread her thighs wide and bowed her head low, submitting herself as an absolute slave to the two men who ran up and stood over her!

      "Caught you," Steven crowed happily, staring down at the defenceless nude, but Nicos was less happy.

      "Too damned easy," the dark haired dominant growled, "I wanted to shoot her down."

      "Hmmm, yes, that would have been more fun," Steven agreed, "But...we could always do it anyway...."

      Gemma's breath locked in her throat as her Master spoke and a wild tremor shook her kneeling frame as Nicos chuckled evilly.

      "Yes, we could, couldn't we. On your feet, slave!"

      Gemma rose, her eyes round with fear as she stared from one grinning Master to the other, then she moaned in anguish as Nicos said softly, "Run, slavegirl. Go on, run! Who knows, we might just miss..."

      The two paintball guns rose as one and the sight broke Gemma's nerve completely. With a muffled scream of terror, she spun on her heel and raced away, sand spurting from beneath her flying feet and her breath rasping in her throat.

      Two low-pitched thuds sounded behind her and at the same instant Gemma felt soft, almost liquid impacts at the small of her back and at her right buttock. She twisted wildly and stared dazedly down at a patch of bright yellow staining her hip!

      "Good shot, Steven! Dead centre! Now watch, it won't take more than a few seconds."

      Gemma turned to run once more, but a strange lethargy seemed to steal over her, gripping her limbs as if she was trying to run through treacle. She took one pace, and then another, but her legs would not obey the frantic commands of her brain and as she tried to take a third step, her legs crumpled beneath her and she fell in a flurry of sand. Face down, her brain screamed orders to her  legs, but, somehow, the desperate messages never got through and her limbs remained immobile, paralysed by the near-instantaneous effects of the anaesthetic in the paint staining her back and hip!

      Casually, her Masters strolled over to their victim and rolled her onto her back and Gemma whimpered helplessly as her ankles were spread wide and her knees bent upwards to leave her cruelly exposed and intensely vulnerable. Again and again, she tried madly to force her legs together to hide her shame, but her body simply would not, could not, respond to her wishes and her terror grew as the absolute helplessness of her position was borne in on her.

      "An excellent preparation, this," Nicos observed, "It paralyses the muscles, but leaves the nerve-endings in the flesh untouched. She will still feel everything that happens to her, but won't be able to move."

      To prove his point, the dark haired Master slid his fingers between Gemma's spread thighs and applied a firm caress to the drawn-back lips of the slavegirl's sex.

      Gemma's eyes bulged and a squeal of anguish lost itself in her huge gag, but her body remained perfectly still, clear proof that her paralysis was complete.

      Steven smiled wolfishly, "That is quite amazing," he breathed, "May I try?"

      "Of course. You shot her, too, so she is yours as much as mine."

      The tall Master reached to his waist and drew out his crop, then stared deep into Gemma's horrified eyes as he raised the whippy leather. Still holding Gemma's gaze with his own, he brought the crop down hard on the soft flesh of Gemma's inner thigh.

      The stinging impact brought a strangled scream from the slavegirl's throat, but even the pain could not break the paralysis which held her and she was forced to endure the flaring heat without even being able to wriggle to dissipate the anguish.

      A second blow, and then a third drew burning red stripes across Gemma's defenceless skin and she screamed despairingly into her gag as the cruel leather punished her and her Masters looked down calmly, savouring the terrible anguish written in her eyes and their knowledge that she was absolutely helpless to prevent them doing with her as they wished.

      "I want to have her," Steven grated and Gemma whimpered in shame as, before the cold eyes of Nicos, Steven tore off his trousers and positioned himself between her gaping thighs.

      Unable to prevent it, she gasped as he seized her knees and spread her wider still, opening her helplessly to receive him.

      With a deep grunt of exertion and pleasure, Steven speared his rigid maleness  deep into the soft warmth of her parted sex, plunging irresistibly to the very core of her belly as he took her with the full power and absolute dominance of his Mastery over her.

      Even as her eyes filled with the tears of shame and humiliation of her all too public ravishing, Gemma could not but submit to the devastating arousal filling her belly as she was taken like the hot slavegirl her Masters had made her and her sex squeezed and contracted helplessly as her body responded as it had been trained.

      A first orgasm swept through her, shaking her belly with boiling waves of love juices and she screamed in delirious ecstasy, her inability to move adding immeasurably to the furious passions raging deep within her as she surrendered to one Master....and the sight of Nicos, her other Master, gazing down at her subjugation and the certainty that he, too, was to have her when he chose, raising her shattering need to an even higher pitch!

      Steven's lunges grew still more fierce, his strong hands spreading her thighs until she feared he would split her apart, his maleness growing even more massive as he neared his peak and Gemma shrieked in horror and futile denial as Nicos bent to her breasts and took a golden nipple ring in each of his hands.

      Utterly at the mercy of her two Masters, driven beyond the limits of her endurance, Gemma's paralysed body shuddered wildly as jolts of unbearable arousal and flashes of exquisite pain radiated from her throbbing breasts and erect nipples as Nicos used his skilled fingers to add to the frenzied tumult of her abject subjugation and bring her teetering to the brink of a second stupendous orgasm.

      Buried deep in the bubbling heat of Gemma's belly, Steven began to throb and twitch and as his seed jetted into her and Nicos twirled her painfully hard nipples, Gemma hurtled over the precipice of her lusts and dived into a second uncontrollable climax, giant waves of love juices exploding into her belly to mix with the spurting pulses of her Master's release, her eyes screwed tightly shut and her muffled whimpers and gasps telling of the havoc wreaked within her.

      Sated, for the moment, Steven rose to his feet and joined Nicos where he stood looking down at Gemma's sweat stained body.

      "You enjoyed her, my friend."

      "Yes, luckily for her. But what about you, Nicos? Don't you want her?"

      Gemma opened her eyes and flushed redly as Nicos smiled and nodded, "Oh yes, indeed I do, but I shall let her recover from your..ah..attentions first. I wouldn't want her to be too tired to serve me properly, now would I, eh, Steven?"

      Both Masters chuckled softly and Gemma's flush deepened, knowing full well that, if her Master chose, she would be required to serve properly no matter how tired she was!

      Her limbs began to tingle pleasantly and she realised that the paralysing effect of the paintballs was wearing off. She flexed her fingers cautiously and Nicos nodded, "Good. On your feet, slavegirl. There are no after effects, so don't even try to con us. Go on, walk ahead of me back to the beach."

      Gemma rose and did as she was bid, astonished to find that she felt not the slightest trace of dizziness or nausea, then faltered as she heard Nicos say casually that, of course, there was no reason why a slavegirl couldn't be hunted and shot several times in a single day!

      Her momentary hesitation as she took in the awful news earned her a sharp flick of his riding crop and she flinched, instantly resuming her graceful walk as he snapped, "Posture!" and her buttock smarted.

      In a very few moments, she was back at the stand of small trees and her eyes opened wide as she saw Clarissa.

      "Halt."

      Gemma spread her legs, assuming the Display position as she stopped and stared anxiously at the scene before her.

      Clarissa stood with her back to one of the trees, her arms cuffed behind her around its trunk and her ankles wide apart, roped to smaller trees on each side.

      Beaded with sweat, her full breasts and engorged nipples quivering and with tell-tale dampness at the joint of her shapely thighs, it was quite obvious how her captor, Matthew, had amused himself since capturing the luscious redhead.

      "Ah, there you are," Matthew called jovially, "I was beginning to think that Gemma had escaped you." He chuckled softly, "But I see she did not and has paid the penalty," and his pale blue eyes swept over Gemma's stained and crop-striped body, smiling as she blushed and lowered her eyes from his gaze.

      "No chance," Steven replied briefly, "But what of your prize? The lovely Clarissa seems somewhat agitated and, dare I say it, unsatisfied, Matthew?"

      "Mm. You are quite right. I thought it might be amusing to make her wait for her..ah..final satisfaction until you both arrived."

      "And now, we have," Nicos said slowly.

      "Yes, so if you would care to secure Gemma and then assist me, we can deal with Clarissa."

      Ordered to her belly, Gemma grimaced behind her gag as her left leg was bent and placed behind her right knee, then her right leg was doubled up, trapping her left. While Nicos held her leg, Steven dragged her cuffed wrists back and over her right ankle, tensioning her spine into a deeply arched bow.

      As the two Masters released their grip on her body, Gemma whimpered in anguish, the competing tensions of her bent spine and leg holding her immobilised in a strained and exquisitely uncomfortable hogtie.

      Incapable of freeing herself or easing the immediate aching of her cruelly stressed body, Gemma could only watch helplessly as all three of her Masters moved to Clarissa.

      Released from her standing spreadeagle and with her wrists then immediately locked behind her back, the naked redhead shook her head pleadingly as the ropes tied to her ankles were thrown over a tree branch high above her head and, as one Master supported her slim shoulders, the others pulled steadily.

      Twisting in futile impotence, Clarissa fought against the ropes dragging her ankles upwards and apart, but was no match for her captors and, in moments, dangled head down and hugely spread from the branch, her long red hair brushing the grass beneath her as she swayed to and fro, shuddering with the horror of her position.

      Gemma, watching, shuddered in sympathy, knowing Clarissa's absolute vulnerability and horribly aware that it was only by chance that it was the redhead and not herself who was offered so shamefully to the three Masters.

      Matthew walked behind his love slave, out of her sight and Gemma gasped as he drew his cruel riding crop from his belt.

      "Nicos. Steven. If you be so kind as to amuse Clarissa...."

      The suspended redhead gave a muffled scream and her body twisted wildy as fingers seized her defenceless breasts and stroked between her gaping thighs, but her own body weight held her and she could not avoid the blistering arousal imposed upon her. The long muscles of her thighs corded beneath her smooth skin, her breasts quivered helplessly as renewed desire flooded through her body and her eyes bulged above her gag with desperate need as the assault overwhelmed her.

      Timing his blow with merciless precision, her adored Master, Matthew, sent his crop hissing across her presented buttocks, the sharp crack blending with Clarissa's squeal of agonised ecstasy as furious heat erupted in her flesh to mix with devastating arousal and send her spinning into a frenzy of submissive lust.

      The crop rose and fell again and then again and the belly of the juddering redhead contracted in huge convulsions as she was forced into a shattering climax, pulsing and spasming frantically as she was made to surrender to the irresistible power of her Masters.

      Matthew nodded his grey head in satisfaction and joined his companions as they smiled down at the trembling body and anguished eyes of their victim.

      "Thank you, my friends," he chuckled, "And now it is time for my slavegirl to repay the pleasure she has received."

      He addressed himself to the suspended nude, "You will now pleasure me, Clarissa," he said firmly, "Then you will pleasure my friends, if that is what they wish. Do you understand me, slavegirl?"

      Clarissa's throat worked as he spoke, then she forced her head to nod in obedience.

      "Good. Do not disappoint us," and he allowed the tip of his crop to trail down the inside of her left thigh, the threat crystal clear to both Clarissa and the watching Gemma.

      Steven bent and unbuckled the gag, pulling it from her mouth and the redhead licked her dry lips as Matthew released his maleness and slowly approached her.

      Subjugated and under threat of punishment, Clarissa opened her jaws wide, her red lips forming a perfect "O" as her Master's flesh slid deep into her mouth, gagging her. Her eyes widened as he took a half step forward and then another, her suspended body unable to withdraw, forcing her to take the entire length of him into her mouth and his erection bulging her cheeks as she struggled to accommodate his growing girth. His hands gripped her crop striped buttocks tightly, holding her face at his groin, "Now, slave," he hissed, "Pleasure me," and his lips descended to the engorged, shining wet recesses of her exposed sex.

      Clarissa squealed breathily through her nose as his lips found her and her own bulging mouth worked desperately to please him as she had been commanded, her eyes betraying a mixture of fear and desire as she struggled.

      With her eyes riveted on the scene before her and acutely aware of a growing warmth in her own belly as she concentrated on Clarissa's efforts to please a Master, Gemma temporarily forgot that she was not simply a spectator of the redhead's erotic subjugation.

      A strong hand descended on her buttocks, spreading the taut globes of her bottom cheeks and she whinnied into her gag, outraged, as a probing finger found the puckered ring of her anal passage, pressing insistently against her resisting flesh. She turned her head to her left, her eyes sparkling with anger and met the hard gaze of Master Nicos.

      "Defiance of a Master is not permitted, slave," he whispered coldly and his free hand burrowed beneath her arched body to find her breast.

      Gemma gasped as his fingers captured her nipple to send arousal racing through her captive body, then gasped again as he tweaked her nipple ring and a sharp stab of pain jolted her.

      "Defiance is not permitted, slavegirl," he said again, "You have two choices. Surrender...or take the consequences of your resistance. But I shall be kind. You have three seconds. One.. Two..."

        Gemma shivered hopelessly, feeling his fingers at the ring through her nipple and knowing that with a simple flick of his fingers he could force her to do whatever he wished, no matter how awful or shaming.

      With a strangled sob, Gemma surrendered to the inevitable and forced her bottom cheeks to relax, her face growing red as she heard his triumphant chuckle.

      "How very sensible, slavegirl," he mocked her and his extended finger drove deep into her back passage, bringing a groan of shame from her throat and intensifying the embarrassment she felt.

      His hand released her nipple ring, but Gemma's relief was short lived as it, too, forced its way between her doubled thighs and began to caress the lips of her sex. Despite herself, the hogtied brunette began to respond and as her arousal grew, she began to writhe as best she could, rocking back and forth on her belly and breasts as her desire built.

      Above and behind her, Nicos grinned cruelly. She really was a hot little package and soon, he intended to make her pleasure him as Clarissa was pleasuring her Master. Toying as he chose with Gemma's body, he was in no hurry and raised his eyes to savour the moment of Clarissa's humbling.

      Gasping for breath, her lips clamped around her Master's rigid shaft, the redhead trembled each time Matthew lunged forward, his release almost upon him. His fingers dug into her shapely bottom, welding her face to his groin and he gave a massive thrust. A second, then a third and Clarissa swallowed furiously as wave after wave of scalding love juices shot into her mouth and throat as she succeeded in her task and her Master gave a great groan of pleasure.

      Gemma, too, saw her slave sister's success and her own arousal, already burning like a furnace from the fingers at her belly and bottom, zoomed even higher as she saw her own fate in the redhead's submission.

      But then, as Matthew slipped from Clarissa's mouth, Gemma froze in terror. Master Steven strode forward, his fingers already tugging at the zip of his trousers and Gemma realised that there was to be no respite for Clarissa...and, by implication, none for Gemma either.

      Stunned, the brunette groaned as Clarissa's lips opened once more to receive Master Steven, but then her fears focused sharply on herself as Master Nicos took his fingers from her body and moved to crouch in front of her.

      "Mustn't let Clarissa have all the fun, must we, slavegirl?" he joked, "Time you had some. I take it you'd rather not join her, eh?" and he gestured at the upside down redhead.

      Gemma shook her head urgently and Nicos chuckled, "Very well, then you had better behave. When I let you go, walk over to that tree and kneel down with your ankles each side of the trunk."

      He moved round to her side and Gemma winced as he forced her right ankle down towards her buttocks and unhooked her wrists, then stood back to allow her to recover flexibility in her limbs.

      "Over to the tree, slave," he ordered, but as Gemma rose and took the first step, Master Steven caught her eye and gave a cruel laugh, "You're next, slavegirl," he called, "Just as soon as we finish with Clarissa, here."

      Gemma stared at him....and panicked. With a moan of sheer terror, she took to her heels and bolted, reason and logic forgotten as she stumbled through the scrub towards the beach, her only thought to get to the boat and escape the terrible island.

      "Stop, you silly bitch! Come back!" the shout came from behind her and was followed by the sound of pounding footsteps.

       Breath roared in Gemma's ears as she raced on, but, even as she ran, her eyes misted with tears as she remembered, far too late, that her arms were still locked behind her and she wouldn't be able to start the boat's engine, even if she managed to stay ahead of her pursuers long enough to reach it

      The end was inevitable and came when a paintball hit her shoulder.

      Twenty seconds later, Gemma lay paralysed on the white sand, unable to move as her pursuer, Master Nicos, rolled her onto her back and stood grinning down at her.

      Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he told her, "Where did you think you could run to? You never had a chance, you little fool. Now everyone in The Consortium     will know that you tried to escape and will be that bit stricter with you, but that is all your own fault so you will just have to put up with it, won't you?"

      He bent and took Gemma under the arms, then straightened up, carrying her belly down over his shoulder, her head hanging down his back and her legs dangling limply, back through the thin screen of trees to where her freedom bid had begun and dropped her, sprawling, to the grass.

      Clarissa, released from her suspension, lay trembling gently on her side, her ankles tied together and as all three Masters stood over Gemma's immobile body, the redhead stared anxiously at her sister in bondage, wondering just what punishment would be imposed on the brunette for daring to attempt an escape.

      She was not left in doubt for long, for after a brief discussion the three men lifted Gemma, carried her over to a sturdy tree and while two supported her limp frame, the third released her wrists, re-secured them around the tree, then carefully arranged her breasts so that one lay on each side of the trunk and used a short piece of rope to link her nipple rings. Her knees were then spread in the same manner and tied securely and Gemma's eyes rolled wildly as her entire body hugged the coarse bark as further ropes at her waist, shoulders and tops of her thighs pressed her into an ever more intimate embrace with the unforgiving wood.

      Gemma could not even scream as Master Nicos pronounced sentence upon her, "Slaves who attempt to escape are punished. You attempted such an escape and will be punished accordingly. Each of your Masters will deliver ten strokes of the crop to your thighs and buttocks and you will then be sent for further training and discipline until you are considered to be fully satisfactory in all respects. Punishment will commence as soon as the anaesthetic wears off," and his fingers invaded the soft flesh between Gemma's widely spread thighs as he checked to see whether it had.

      "Five more minutes," he announced calmly and the brunette's brain quailed in anticipation of the punishment soon to be inflicted upon her.

      And yet, as the minutes dragged slowly by and feeling returned to her limbs, Gemma could not control the masochistic heat which slowly built in her belly and sex as she awaited the discipline of her Masters. Trained, schooled and conditioned over many months to be the perfect slavegirl of all and any Masters, Gemma had been taught to be helplessly responsive to both caresses and the whip and knew that her body would betray her desperate longings even as she screamed vain pleas for mercy. She would not be able to help herself, would have to endure as best she could the agony of her punishment....but, far worse than the cropping, she knew she would have to endure the searing, overwhelming desires unleashed in her defenceless body by the combination of her punishment, her Masters' hands upon her and the submissive passions of her own nature already seething and bubbling deep inside her. For Gemma knew and understood that she was, truly, a slavegirl.

      Master Nicos thrust a hand between her thighs and drew it back slick with her juices as Gemma quivered in her bonds, "Very well. This slave is ready for punishment."

      The first crop rose, hovered for a moment, then fell with a brisk crack of leather and Gemma, under punishment, howled into her gag as heat blazed across her right buttock. Immediately a second stripe painted her left cheek and she squealed again, then again as a third scored across her thigh. Three more followed in quick succession, then hands rolled her rigid nipples and invaded her sex, penetrating her unmercifully as she threw her head back in utter submission and her love juices flowed in torrents into her belly and over the fingers of her tormentors.

      Unable to move without causing herself pain, Gemma gabbled wordless pleas into her gag as she surrendered abjectly. Pleas to be shown mercy, to be untied, to be allowed to please all of them in any way they desired, to be obedient, to submit willingly, to grovel at their feet, anything, if only they would take pity on her.

      The punishment began again and Gemma shrieked in total despair, realising that she could offer her Masters nothing that they could not forcibly extract from her. Indeed, nothing that they did not already possess, for she was their slavegirl and must..must and would..give them everything! She could not, would not be permitted, to hold back even the smallest thing from her Masters, for they owned her. Owned her totally and completely, dominated every aspect of her very existence, controlled her with a power that was terrifyingly absolute and hugely, uncontrollably, erotic!

      A Master drove irresistibly into her belly, his erection massive and iron hard and Gemma orgasmed explosively, her love juices foaming down around him as he took her brutally, pinning her to the tree trunk as he exerted his full, masculine strength and driving her into a second gigantic climax as his seed jetted into her pulsing belly to mix with the swirling juices of her submission as she surrendered to his Mastery of her.

      Devastated, Gemma sagged in her bonds as he pulled from her, but her ordeal was not yet over and she sobbed and wept and screamed as the final burning strokes of her punishment turned her bottom into an inferno of blistering heat to match the bubbling cauldron of her seething belly.

      A hand knotted in her hair and tugged cruelly, forcing Gemma's head back until her tear streaked face stared helplessly upwards into the hard, remorseless gaze of Master Nicos.

      "A foolish mistake, slave," he said coldly, "For which you have only just begun to pay. Soon, I promise you, you will regret your actions even more than you do already."

      He held his riding crop before her terrified eyes and gave a mirthless smile, "You are frightened of this, aren't you, slavegirl, because you now know what it can to to you, don't you?" and he nodded slowly, hearing her soft whimpers, "But a crop can do more, much more, if a Master chooses."

      For a long moment, Gemma froze, then her eyes widened in shocked understanding and her pinioned body gave a great shudder.

      Nicos grinned and released her hair and Gemma shook her head slowly, disbelievingly, as she realised what the Masters had in mind, her buttocks and thighs tensing frantically against her bonds as she fought to close her gaping thighs.

      In vain.

      Gently, with calculated cruelty, the braided leather handle of a crop insinuated itself between the ringed, wetly glistening lips of her engorged labia and as it did so, her belly gave a convulsive judder of unbearable arousal.

      Powerless to prevent or avoid the unwanted stimulation, Gemma knew she was lost and as her belly shook and trembled on the brink of orgasm, she screamed in the anguish of a slavegirl forced to submit to the shameful humiliation of climaxing to the whip.

      Bound in total exposure, responding wildly to the caress of leather, Gemma climaxed with awesome power, unable to resist or control the masochistic lusts unleashed within her as the whip exerted its Mastery of her and huge pulses of love juices sprayed into her belly.

      Subjugated to the ultimate degree, Gemma wept softly as her Masters savoured her utter defeat, knowing, as they knew, that only a true submissive would surrender as she had.

      Deeply, helplessly, uncontrollably...and worst of all...willingly.

      Only a true submissive....and a true slave.

      Later, taken back to Nicos' yacht, but kept tightly bound, Gemma cried herself to sleep, her mind filled with images of her shame...and fears of what the next day would bring.

      When she was sent for further training...and further discipline...

CHAPTER 15

      The broad leather straps bolted to the walls of the transport crate held Gemma's nude body immobilised and she had long since given up her futile efforts to escape their implacable grip on her limbs. Brought on the deck of her Master's yacht soon after sunrise, Gemma had wisely not attempted to make even the smallest protest as she was positioned in the crate and secured for her journey and was then in no position to resist as, after checking the tightness of each strap personally, Nicos produced a leather helmet and informed her that he had decided to increase the security of her incarceration. The isolation hood, he said, would ensure no further foolishness on her part, for it was to be locked upon her and could not be removed without the key...of which he held one and the other was at her destination. Even if Gemma were to succeed in freeing her limbs..a most unlikely event he felt..she would remain hooded with no chance of making a successful escape.

      Gemma stared miserably up at him, knowing he had no reason to lie to her and licked dry lips nervously as he brought the hood towards her.