Invitation To Enslavement
by F. E. Campbell 


1 

Two Girls in Bondage 

Sandy arched her back once again, testing the limits the ropes would allow 
her to move from the chair. And again that limit was only an inch or so. 
Inch by inch, loop by loop, she concentrated upon each segment of the 
bondage that had been applied to her, testing it where she could, imagining 
how she might turn any slack or misplaced knot into an escape. First the 
white cotton clothesline wrapped around her ankles. That had been cinched 
down good and tight before the final knot had been tied, and the additional 
cinch ropes that went up to her wrists made the ankle bondage even tighter. 
No slack or play there. She stretched her toes but could not reach the 
floor. No chance of using her toes to tilt the chair over. 

Her knees were wrapped and cinched down and knotted. But the way they were 
bent as her legs were tucked under the chair tightened up the ropes. Again, 
nothing loose, nothing to work on. 

She turned her attention to her wrists. They had been placed palm to palm 
together behind her back and tied. There was cinch rope over the main 
windings and a couple tight knots where her fingers could not reach. But the 
most damning rope of all was the additional cinch ropes that connected her 
ankles and wrists. That rope had been pulled tight until her feet were off 
the floor and dragging on her wrists. No chance of loosening that wrist 
bondage. 

Sandy's elbows were tied much as the wrists had been, with rope around them 
and cinch ropes running between her arms and around the main loops. It was 
an efficient way to bind a girl's elbows, tight and secure and inescapable. 
And somewhat painful, too. Sandy was reasonably slender but even so, binding 
her elbows together behind her back was uncomfortable. And she knew that it 
would grow more and more uncomfortable as time passed. 

The rest of the binding was then mentally inspected. There were ropes around 
her tummy and the back of the chair, cinched down tightly. That pretty much 
held her bottom in place. Those ropes might have been within range of her 
fingers had not her hands been pulled down by the ropes tied between them 
and her ankles. As things were, they were safe and secure. 

The ropes had been cleverly and secured placed upon her body, and she came 
to the conclusion that she would probably not be able to escape from their 
grip. About all she could do, beyond moving her head around, was to shift 
her knees a little from side to side, and thrust her breasts out an inch or 
so by arching her back and straining against the ropes. All in all, it was a 
good bondage job. 

"Looks fine," Sandy said to the person who had tied her thus. "Everything 
seems secure." She paused to try and move her shoulders to one side. The 
back of the chair was buried into her armpits and prevented any movement. 
"Good. Can't move that way. Okay, Michelle, now the gag." 

The person who had tied the ropes around Sandy's body picked up the prepared 
gag from the dresser and approached the nearly naked and very well bound 
young woman. Michelle, who was dressed only in bra and panties herself, as 
opposed to Sandy's tiny black panties, noted that her friend's nipples were 
already erect, a sure sign that the girl was becoming sexually excited 
already. Not that such was unusual. Sandy always found being tied up 
exciting. Just talking about being tied up usually started her juices 
flowing. 

The gag was a ball of cloth made from a washcloth rolled into a tube and 
doubled over. It was shoved into the open mouth. As Michelle reached for the 
wide, white tape, the bound girl closed her lips tightly. The tape went over 
those lips, first horizontally, then in an X shape, each piece of tape 
ending far from the mouth to get maximum effectiveness. Sandy had at first 
wanted to have the roll of tape wrapped around and around her head at her 
mouth level, which would work very well to seal her mouth. But Michelle 
pointed out that it might be very hard to get the tape unstuck from her long 
black hair, so Sandy backed down. 

But the tape was not to hold the wad of cloth in by itself. There was also a 
leather harness that strapped onto her head. A portion of the gag covered 
her mouth from ear to ear, and from the bottom of her nose to her neck. 
Straps around and up over her head held the gag in place. The tight leather 
covering the tape helped hold it in place against any attempt to push it out 
with the tongue. The bottom part of the gag under her chin even had a strap 
that went around her neck to hold it tight in place. Michelle backed off, 
absently pushing a curl of her long blonde hair back from her face, and 
looked at the bound and now gagged girl. The raven-haired girl was shaking 
her head, obviously trying to dislodge the gag and push it from her mouth. 
After a minute she ceased the struggled and simply sat there, breathing 
heavily. 

"Point of no return," said Michelle, teasingly. Sandy nodded. The look in 
her eyes said she understood fully. 

Between these two friends and roommates, there was an understanding about 
the rules when one is placed in bondage by the other. There is a certain 
point beyond which the one being tied cannot change her mind. That "point of 
no return" was where the victim would have to go through with whatever 
ordeal was planned. It usually occurred at the point when the bondage became 
sufficient to prevent escape by the victim. But sometimes it came when the 
door closed, leaving one of the two beautiful girls alone and very helpless. 
Today, it came when the gag was tested and found not wanting. Sandy was now 
securely bound and gagged. She could not free herself. Or at least both 
girls assumed not. She could not talk. Not unless she were able to work the 
gag off during the course of her struggles. She was, in a word, helpless. 

Michelle then turned to a small arrangement of items on the dresser and 
Sandy's eyes followed her with unusual interest. There were four items on 
the wooden dresser; two were wooden clothespins, one was a small bottle of 
reddish liquid, and the last was a small jar of honey. Michelle paused 
before the objects, apparently deep in thought. Sandy made funny grunting 
sounds through her nose, perhaps as attempts at speech in hopes of 
influencing Michelle's choice. She toyed with the wooden clothespins with 
one fingernail, moving them about on the dresser. Sandy moaned. Then she 
picked up the jar of honey and read the label. Sandy sucked in her breath 
for she knew that if the honey were chosen, it would be smeared all over her 
bare breasts, chest, legs and shoulders. It would be torture to have to 
endure the sticky honey for the hours that she was going to be left alone, 
but the worse part was that the windows would be opened which would allow 
flies into the bedroom. On a warm summer evening such as this was, she would 
soon be wearing a coating of flies, some stuck to the honey, some walking 
around on her skin, others buzzing around her head. It would be most 
unpleasant. 

Michelle put down the honey but her hand hovered near the jar. Then she made 
a quick motion and the small bottle of reddish liquid was in her hand. Sandy 
moaned and shook her head in negation. But Michelle was not to be put off by 
nonverbal protests. She advanced upon the helpless girl, opened the bottle, 
and pour a little of it on the upper slope of one rather large and perfectly 
shaped breast. Using two fingers, she spread the liquid around the breast, 
taking more from the bottle as needed, until the entire breast was covered 
with a thin coating. Special attention was paid to the rigid nipple to 
ensure that it was totally covered. The process was repeated with the other 
breast. 

The bottle was recapped and placed back on the dresser. Michelle immediately 
went to the bathroom and washed the oily substance off her hands. Then she 
proceeded to remove her underclothing and take a shower. After that she blow 
dried her hair, dressed in a very flattering burgundy skirt that showed most 
of her long, lovely legs, and added a matching lavender silk blouse. When 
she moved certain ways, it was obvious that she wore no bra under the silk 
and that her breasts were every bit as big and nice as Sandy's. Black high 
heels finished the outfit, making her look very sexy. 

All the while Michelle was fixing herself up, Sandy sat in her chair. From 
time to time she strained against the ropes, trying against hope to find 
some slack, some means of escape, but there was none. By the time Michelle 
was hoping around, putting on her high heels, Sandy's breasts were heating 
up and the captive girl had a serious look in her eyes. She seemed to be 
trying to get her friend's attention. But the blonde ignored the bound girl 
completely. 

When Michelle was all finished and a glance at the clock showed her that it 
was time to go, she turned to the bound girl and smiled sweetly. "You know I 
really would like to stay and watch you suffer," she cooed. "But Ted has 
promised me a lobster dinner, and you know how I like lobster. Makes me so 
horny," she giggled. "I wouldn't be surprised if we wound up back at his 
place. For a little fun and games, you know." 

Sandy knew. And she groaned. That meant her friend would not be returning 
until late at night. Perhaps not until the next morning, if she and Ted fell 
asleep after their lovemaking. Sandy shook her head violently from side to 
side, trying to make it known that she didn't want to be left bound and 
gagged for that long. And especially not with her breasts covered with 
Secret Formula X. 

There was the sound of a door bell. "Oh, there's Ted now. Got to run," said 
Michelle sweetly. "Have a good night. I know I will. Bye." 

Then Michelle was gone. But she left the bedroom door open and Sandy could 
hear her greeting the man who sometimes dated both of them. Then came the 
sound of the front door closing, including the clicking of the locks, and 
Sandy was alone in their apartment. 

She let out a groan of frustration and began a serious attempt to free 
herself from the ropes. Secret Formula X was the name that they gave to the 
mixture of irritants they had come up with after long experimentation. The 
liquid stayed on the skin and did not run off. It made the skin itch and 
burn. And it lasted a long, long time. A girl so unfortunate as to have her 
breasts coated with Secret Formula X would be in for a great deal of torment 
as the hours wore on. Unless she could free herself and get into the shower. 

Sandy strained and jerked and pulled against the ropes. She tried to push 
the gag out of her mouth. She tried to reach any of the knots with her 
fingers, but they were cleverly tied just out of reach. As she strained and 
struggled, her breasts bounced a little and swayed from side to side now and 
then, but mostly they just stuck out there and grew more heated. 

By the end of an hour Sandy was exhausted from her efforts to free herself 
but no closer to freedom than at the start. Her breasts were both on fire 
and itched like crazy. She longed to be able to grab both of them and dig 
her fingernails into them. But the way she was bound prevented that. She was 
panting, she was hot, and she was frustrated as hell. She was suffering from 
very tight ropes, tortured breasts and uncomfortably bound elbows. She 
wanted to scream and was thankful that she was gagged for it would prevent 
the screams from leaving the bedroom. 

By the end of two hours she was cursing herself and Michelle. By the end of 
three hours, as the light in the bedroom was fading to night time, she 
wanted to cry. She even tried to tip her chair over in hopes that she could 
rub her breasts against the carpet, the bed, anything. 

But she was also very sexually excited and riding an intense emotional high 
very few women ever experience or would understand. Her whole body was alive 
to the torment and the pleasure. She felt helpless, even a little afraid, 
for anything could happen while she was so bound. Michelle could get killed 
in a car accident and never return to free her friend. The apartment 
building could catch fire and burn to the ground with her still helplessly 
bound to that chair. Hell, the landlord could even come in and find her like 
this. He had a key, after all. 

Being alone and so helpless was scary for sure. But also very exciting. 
Sandy was fully alive and riding intense emotions. 

Around the five hour mark Sandy managed to squeeze her thighs together 
enough, to strain against the ropes enough, and to feel the burning and 
itching in her breasts enough so she reached the only relief available to 
her, an orgasm. For a long time her nearly naked body arched against the 
ropes until the muscles were trembling. 

When she finally drifted down from the sexual high, she was still bound, 
still helpless and still suffering. But the orgasm has been so intense that 
it didn't matter much what else was happening to her. She was living life to 
the fullest and enjoying it. 

In the middle of the night her breasts began to cool down and itch a little 
less. Eventually she was able to fall asleep for a while, an art she had 
learned from long nights spent in bondage. But before she drifted off into 
dreams of being helpless while a thousand demons tortured her breasts, she 
made a mental note to congratulate Michelle on a well done job, both of the 
bondage and of making her feel so very helpless while alone. And she began 
making plans for what she would do to Michelle when next it was the blonde 
girl's turn to be the "victim." 

The Saturday morning had been uneventful, as the whole weekend promised to 
also be. The two beautiful women had cleaned their apartment, Michelle doing 
so while completely nude and wearing handcuffs and leg irons. With her 
wrists cuffed in front, there was little of the housework she could not do, 
and the chain connecting the ankle cuffs of the leg irons was of sufficient 
length so as to not prevent her from walking nearly normally. As she moved 
around the apartment, a clinking music followed her. 

By mid-morning they were finished and had to face the prospect of finding 
something wild and crazy to do for the rest of the weekend. Michelle was 
sitting on a bar stool, ideally inspecting the keyhole on one of her 
handcuffs. Sandy was flipping through the TV guide without really seeing the 
listings. 

"We could play it straight this weekend," suggested Michelle shyly. 

"Straight!" exclaimed Sandy. "You mean not to do any kind of bondage for the 
whole weekend? Have you lost your mind? Has your twisted little brain 
straightened out? Forget that!" 

"Well, it was just an idea." Michelle smiled sweetly. "A lot of people do it 
that way." 

Sandy made a disgusted noise and tossed the magazine to the coffee table. 
"There's got to be something interesting to do," she said with special 
emphasis on the word, "interesting." 

"We could tie you to a chair in front of the TV and make you watch reruns of 
"I Love Linda" all day," suggested Michelle. 

Sandy grunted. "There's got to be something better. We just have to think of 
it." 

"We always do," purred Michelle. "Maybe we could dress real sexy and go down 
to Hank's and let the boys try to pick us up. It's so much fun when we tell 
them that we really don't like men. And then kiss each other." 

"Blows their little macho, masculine minds," said Michelle. "But we did that 
two weeks ago. Let's wait a while for a fresh crowd there." 

"Well, there's always the cabin in the mountains," suggested Sandy. The 
cabin really belonged to a friend of Sandy's father but she had a key and 
was allowed to use it anytime she wished. Her father's friend never used it 
anymore. And the two girlfriends had spent many an interesting and exciting 
weekend among the pines and wild mountain country. 

"Bit of a drive," commented Michelle. For a few seconds she toyed with her 
handcuffs then a smile brightened her face. "I've got an idea." 

"So? What is it?" 

"Well, first we have to decide who gets to have it done to her," said 
Michelle sweetly. "I was the one who spent the night in handcuffs and leg 
irons... Not to mention all morning while I did housework..." 

"So you think it's my turn?" asked Sandy. 

"Well..." Michelle said sweetly. "But first you'll have to unlock me." 

"Before I unlock you, I have to ask. Am I going to regret this? I mean, some 
of the things you've dreamed up for me were pretty rough. Like the time you 
left me hogtied all night in the forest half a mile from the cabin." 

"Don't worry, you'll like this one. And you won't be hogtied." Michelle 
smiled so sweetly and innocently that Sandy produced the handcuff key from 
her pocket and began releasing her blonde friend. 

"I've got a feeling I will regret this," she commented, but she unlocked the 
handcuffs and then the leg irons. "Good. Now get into the bedroom, we've got 
to dress you," Michelle said, switching easily from her little-girl, 
submissive innocence to a dominant mistress. "Suppose I'll have to get 
dressed, too." 

In the bedroom Michelle put away the handcuffs and leg irons and took out 
some of the cotton clothesline rope from their large supply. It had taken a 
long time but they finally found a manufacturer of the soft clothesline and 
had purchased a whole case, over twenty thousand feet of it. They had 
laughingly joked that it was only a month's supply but they could buy more 
as needed. 

Michelle motioned with a coil of rope and Sandy removed her baby-doll 
nightie to stand before her friend completely naked. In the normal manner of 
their game playing, Sandy hung her head submissively and completely 
cooperated when Michelle took hands and pulled them up behind her back. They 
were crossed and bound up between the shoulder blades with a short length of 
clothesline. Then Michelle tied a longer piece of rope to the wrists and 
used that to make a rope harness that passed over her shoulders on top and 
behind her back in the armpits. The whole harness was tightened nicely and 
knotted quite firmly where Sandy's fingers could never reach. When Michelle 
stepped back, Sandy shook her shoulders and pulled on her arms without being 
told to. In this wild game between them, they both wanted the bondage to be 
real and inescapable. Anything else would be cheating. 

Satisfied that Sandy's arms were secured behind her, Michelle rummaged 
through the closet and came up with a coat, a medium length soft leather 
coat of hers. She put it around Sandy's shoulders and buttoned it up in 
front. The bottom of the coat came to only to mid-thigh on Sandy. The empty 
sleeves were tucked into the pockets and safety pins used to hold them 
there. Michelle left the top button undone and, with the extra bulk of 
Sandy's arms behind her breasts making the coat was a little tighter than 
normal, the "V" in front showed a bit more of Sandy's large breasts than she 
would have liked. 

"Are we going out in public?" ask Sandy. 

"Of course. Why else would I put a coat on you?" 

"Then aren't I showing a bit too much breast?" 

"No, you look fine. Just a healthy, well-built young girl." 

Michelle fetched a pair of Sandy's high heel shoes and put them on the 
carpet before the bound girl. They were five inch heels and Sandy protested. 

"I can't go out in public in those! With my legs bare and those shoes, I'll 
look like a prostitute!" 

"Well, maybe a little bit. But they do wonders to the shape of your legs. 
See, I'll be wearing heels myself." 

"But yours are only three inches. And are you sure that people can't see up 
under my coat? It seemed awful short." 

"Well, it is a little short. But that's the style. I hear miniskirts are 
coming back in. Just don't bend over or you'll moon whoever is behind you." 

"You're a big help," said Sandy sarcastically. Now that she was secured and 
helpless, she didn't have to be so cooperative. That was part of their game, 
too. When one girl was secured, then she could play the part of the 
unwilling victim. If she felt like that role on that day. "I won't be able 
to sit down without showing a lot of pubic hair, you know." 

"I know." 

Michelle busied herself with getting dressed while Sandy stood there on 
heels so tall they made just walking an adventure. A dangerous adventure. 
With her arms tightly bound high up on her back, keeping her balance on 
those high heels was no easy task. 

Michelle finished dressing in a business-like blue skirt that ended just 
above her knees, a frilly white blouse and black high heels of her own. The 
short skirt showed off her lovely legs very well, and she looked quite 
delicious. Sandy, on the other hand, did look a bit funny. Anyone looking 
closely would probably notice that the sleeves were empty. And those high 
heels did make her legs looks beautiful. And very sexy. 

Normally Sandy would have worn pantyhose when showing so much of her legs. 
But she knew that Michelle was denying her even that much covering of her 
private parts so she would be constantly aware how close they were to public 
exposure. If she were to fall, or make the mistake of bending too far over, 
it would be an interesting, and indecent, show for all to see. 

Michelle finished brushing her hair then used the same brush to smooth out 
Sandy's long black tresses. Then she arranged them spread out along the 
bound girl's back. It helped to hide the odd shape where crossed wrists were 
bound behind her. 

Before leaving, Michelle took Sandy in her arms and kissed her friend and 
lover on the lips. Unable to return the embrace, Sandy demonstrated her love 
by the passion in her kiss. When Michelle finally pulled away, both girls 
were flushed and breathing a little heavier. 

"Later," muttered Michelle as she headed towards the front door of their 
apartment. Sandy smiled. It would have been nice if her friend had thrown 
her on the bed for yet another of their lovemaking bouts. But it was also 
exciting to play these little games and Sandy was wondering just where 
Michelle planned to take her. Besides, there was always "later." 

The walk to the car was uneventful, for which Sandy was glad. No matter how 
many times they played these bondage-in-public games, she still felt a lump 
in her throat and a little twinge of fear in her stomach as soon as she 
heard their front door close behind her. Her arms were tightly bound behind 
her so she couldn't use them at all. She felt nearly naked with only that 
short coat to cover her body. And she was completely under the control of a 
girl was her friend and whom she loved dearly, but who was also a joker. 
Just as likely as not, she could wind up stranded at some restaurant or 
along side a road miles from their apartment and have to walk back, all 
alone and still bound. It had happened before. 

In the car, Michelle tightened the seat belt around Sandy's waist, securing 
her to the seat. Sometimes when they played games like this, her ankles 
would have been tied also, but this time it was not to be. As Michelle drove 
along the busy street, Sandy pressed her head against the window and 
wondered what all those other people on the sidewalk and in those cars would 
think if they knew that a few feet away was a girl who was bound up, nearly 
naked, and being whisked away to some ordeal that might be pleasant or a 
torture. But it would be exciting, whatever Michelle had in mind. Sandy 
sighed. She really did love these games, no matter how much she was afraid 
when it was happening to her. 

Besides, she knew full well that Michelle wouldn't do anything too drastic. 
The next day it would be Michelle's turn to be the victim under the total 
control and power of Sandy, who would surely remember what happened to her 
today. And if it wasn't the next day, it would be some day soon. Rarely a 
night went by when one of them wasn't in some kind of bondage at the hands 
of the other. 

"Oh, no!" said Sandy as the car pulled into the parking lot of the Fox Hills 
Shopping Mall. "You're not going to take me in there!" She was genuinely 
aghast at the thought of having to walk the corridors of the crowded 
shopping mall in her condition. "Will you...?" she added meekly. 

Michelle said nothing as she found a parking place and brought the car to a 
stop. She got out, locking her door, and for a second Sandy hoped that she 
would only be left in the car while Michelle went in for some shopping. But 
her door was opened and the seat belt unbuckled in invitation for her to get 
out. With a sigh Sandy did that, a bit awkwardly because of a lack of arms. 

"Please..." she whispered as she stood next to Michelle. Michelle simply 
smiled at her friend and locked the car door, one more barrier between Sandy 
and the safety of their apartment. 

The mall wasn't too crowded, at least not for a normal Saturday. But this 
was only mid-morning, it would get more and more crowded as the day wore on. 
Sandy wondered how long she would have to stay in the mall. And there was 
the nagging fear that Michelle would leave her in there with all those 
people and her looking like a prostitute - a bound and nearly helpless 
prostitute at that. She shivered in equal parts fear and delicious 
excitement. 

For a while Michelle strolled along, pausing to look in store windows, 
acting as if she had all the time in the world. Sandy meekly followed, 
trying to take an interest in the displays, but really fantastically aware 
of all the people around her. Each time a person glanced at her, and many 
did because of her lovely legs and those ridiculous high heels, she cringed 
inside. But it was a delicious kind of fear and Sandy was glad of Michelle's 
wild imagination. 

She was aware of the way the men looked at her. All the men from the 
youngest teenager to the oldest grandfather, they all looked at those long, 
lovely legs, that budging coat, and the generous amount of breast top front 
showing in the V. A few might have noticed the long, shinning black hair but 
most eyes were riveted to the front where more of her charms were on 
display. 

An inner thrill raced up and down her spine to have all those male eyes 
gazing at her and to know she was generating lust in their hearts. It gave a 
woman a tremendous sense of power to be able to affect men so much. And, 
even if most of her loving was spent in bed with Michelle, she still 
appreciated a male lover now and then. If he knew how to bind her tightly 
and make her feel very helpless. 

The morning wore on and they visited every store in the mall, actually 
entering many of them. Michelle made some small purchases, a new pair of 
fishnet nylons in one place, a pair of shoulder length gloves in another. 
Sandy meekly followed along, trying to act as if she merely had her hands in 
her pockets, and really had no desire to take them out to pick up anything. 
And she tried to stand straight upright and not bend forward when looking at 
something. In a mirror in one store she noted that when she bent forward the 
bulge of her arms bound high on her back showed more. And the bottom of her 
coat in back rode dangerously up. 

And Sandy was very conscious of the click-clack her high heels made on the 
stores that had hard floors. Some had carpets and she was grateful that she 
didn't make a loud, attention-grabbing sound in those places. 

Neither of the two young women playing their exciting, erotic and daring 
game noticed the pair of dark eyes that followed them out of the Twenty-Four 
Carat Jewelry and down the corridor. The owner of those eyes followed their 
wandering progress, carefully noting the condition of the one with the long 
dark hair, the short coat and high heels. 

The two girls took a late lunch at one of the mall restaurants. At least 
Michelle eat a lunch. Explaining that her friend had already eaten and only 
wanted a coke, she processed to order a club sandwich, which she ate slowly 
and with great enjoyment in front of the hungry Sandy who had to content 
herself with sipping her coke through a straw. It was just one more of the 
little torments the dominant one got to play on the submissive one in their 
games. 

And under the table, Michelle's hand slipped down occasionally to stroke the 
smooth skin of Sandy's leg. Michelle was careful not to do it when anyone 
seemed to be watching for the underside of their table was not adequately 
covered by the table cloth and most of the bound girl's legs were clearly 
visible. At one point, after Michelle's fingers had made the journey all the 
way up to Sandy's pubic hair, Sandy moaned with repressed sexual excitement 
and leaned over to whisper in Michelle's ear that she was desperate to get 
back to the apartment so they could make love. Michelle laughed daintily as 
if Sandy had just told her a mildly funny joke and went back to finishing 
her sandwich. Sandy moaned quietly to herself and squeezed her legs 
together. It didn't help the fire burning within her loins, but it would 
prevent Michelle's fingers from touching a part of Sandy she so desperately 
wanted touched but not out in a public restaurant. 

Mercifully, Michelle made Sandy only window shop in two more stores before 
she led the bound and horny girl back to the car. Once she was seat-belted 
firmly to the seat, Sandy spread her legs and begged Michelle to touch her 
sex. Michelle laughed in a delighted way and refused to do as her friend 
wished. It was not that she was uninterested, indeed, Michelle was just as 
horny as Sandy. It was just that she knew keeping Sandy horny for a while 
longer while she was tied and unable to even touch herself would make for a 
very interesting and intense lovemaking session when they did get back to 
the bedroom. One squeeze of her left breast through the coat was all that 
Michelle would grant her dark haired friend. 

The drive seemed like forever to Sandy, but she knew what Michelle was 
doing. She had done the same to the blonde girl many times. They used their 
bondage games to heighten their sexual desire. And when that desire finally 
came to fruition, it was incredible. She was really looking forward to 
throwing her body on the bed, spreading her legs wide and welcoming 
Michelle's loving tongue. Or perhaps Michelle would select one of their 
dildos and give her a thorough screwing with the phallic substitute. Or 
perhaps Michelle would simply take her clothes off and order Sandy to kneel 
at her feet and use her tongue to please her. Not knowing was part of the 
game. It was even possible that Michelle would tie Sandy into some 
impossible tight position and leave the girl alone to suffer both the 
discomfort of the ropes and the unsatisfied desire burning within. 

Sandy sighed. No matter what happened, it would be fun! It was nothing that 
Sandy had been envisioning. First Michelle removed the coat and placed a 
large ball gag into Sandy's mouth. When that was strapped in tightly, she 
pushed the lovely raven-haired beauty back onto the bed and processed to 
bind her ankles to the comers, forcing her legs to spread wide. Sandy was 
almost panting with desire as she watched her beloved friend knotting the 
ropes tightly about her ankles. Even when her legs were spread to about 
their limit, she thought not of the discomfort but only of the coming 
ecstasy. 

Michelle stripped off her clothes slowly to the accompaniment of Sandy's 
pleading moans. When she had tossed off the last tiny bit of panties, she 
went to the dresser where they kept all their ropes and other playthings. 
When she returned, smiling, to the bound girl, her hands held a large dildo. 
Sandy's eyes widened in both shock and pleasure. The rather massive replica 
of the male phallus was gently placed at the entrance to Sandy's love 
tunnel. The tied down girl moaned loudly and thrust her hips up to meet the 
rubber thing that she so craved. But Michelle leave the dildo laying on the 
bed with only the tip of it's nose barely parting Sandy's pussy lips. But 
quickly she came back with a short length of rope. Suddenly she shoved the 
toy in, pushing until it was buried to its base in female flesh. It went in 
easily for that entrance way was already well lubricated and ready. 

Sandy moaned extra loud and her body arched upward, supported by her bound 
arms under her. Quickly, and with expert hands, Michelle looped rope around 
Sandy's waist, jerked it tight, then ran it down between her legs. Twice the 
rope passed between the wide spread legs until it was knotted in front. The 
dildo was then tightly held inside the panting girl so that no amount of 
struggling or pushing could dislodge it. Not that Sandy wanted it out. She 
was breathing very hard and her face and neck were flushed with excitement. 
Her nipples were very rigid and her hips were thrusting gently back and 
forth. 

Michelle could have simply stood there and watched the helpless and naked 
girl reach a much-desired climax, but she was not of a mind to make it so 
easy for her friend. Climbing on the bed, she straddled Sandy's body with 
her legs on each side of her head. Then she removed the gag and move her own 
pussy so it was positioned just an inch away from Sandy's mouth. Without an 
order, and with great enthusiasm, Sandy lifted her head and plunged her 
tongue into Michelle's cunt, hungrily wiggling it as fast as she could. The 
effect was instant. Michelle lifted her head towards the ceiling and moaned 
with pure pleasure. She began a circular motion of her own hips that matched 
the humping Sandy's hips was doing a little farther down the bed. Quickly 
both girls were emitting little sound of ecstasy, gasping in pleasure and 
desire, and rapidly approaching their mutual satisfaction. When it came, it 
was almost simultaneous, both girls crying out. Michelle threw her body 
around so that she was laying on top of Sandy, her legs between the bound 
girl's spread legs and her hips hard against Sandy's. Then she wrapped her 
arms around Sandy and thrust her hips hard against the ropes and dildo 
inside, much like a man driving his tool into the woman he loved. Their 
mouths found each other and locked into a kiss with their tongues caressing 
each other. 

For a long time the two naked girls held that position, both lost in a haze 
of orgasm. 

Michelle was the first to come back to earth. She sucked in a deep breath 
and arched her body. When she got off Sandy, the still helpless girl moaned, 
perhaps in response to the lessening of pressure against the dildo, perhaps 
as a plea for more. But she was never able to place that plea into words for 
Michelle lifted her head and replaced the ball gag. Sandy did not protest 
nor fight the intrusion of that large rubber ball. Being completely helpless 
was a wonderful thing to her and she savored it. 

When Michelle left the bedroom, Sandy was already slowly working up towards 
another climax, stimulated by the tight bondage, the discomfort of laying on 
her bound arms, the feeling of vulnerability created by her wide spread 
legs, and impossible to ignore presence of that large dildo inside her 
pussy. 

Neither girl was aware of the stranger who stood before their door, noting 
the apartment number. Nor would they have cared had they known, so lost in 
their mutual pleasure were they. But events were begin set into motion that 
would change their lives forever. 

 2 

Strange Invitation 

On a Saturday evening several weeks later, Sandy and Michelle were engaged 
in their favorite hobby in the bedroom of their apartment when there was a 
ringing of the door bell. 

"Ignore it," said Sandy from her position tied to the stout metal chair they 
had bought just for that purpose. Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed the 
attention Michelle had been paying to her helpless body, so much so that 
Michelle was surprised that the naked and bound girl had even heard the 
doorbell. 

Michelle switched off the powerful plug-in vibrator she had been teasing the 
open pussy with and stood up. Sandy moaned as that wonderful instrument of 
pleasure withdrew from tantalizing contact with her sensitive flesh. Her 
hips strained forward as if to follow the vibrator but could move only an 
inch. "Oh, Michelle, please! Don't go." 

But Michelle had already straightened her clothing and was headed out the 
door. She paused to glance back at the form of a young woman bound with her 
arms behind the chair and legs tied to the back of the chair so her thighs 
were open. She closed the bedroom door and crossed the front room. 

The peep hole revealed only a young woman standing there, so Michelle opened 
the door. "Yes, may I help you?" 

The girl standing there said nothing but motioned down towards the breast 
pocket of her jacket. For a few seconds Michelle was puzzled. She did not 
know this girl. She was a beautiful redhead with masses of lovely hair 
framing her features. Her skirt was very fashionable, if a little short, and 
revealed nice legs. She wore high heels that made them look even better. 
There was something about the way she was standing that puzzled Michelle. 
That and the way that the girl hadn't said anything. 

Again she motioned towards the breast pocket with her chin. Michelle could 
see the end of a small envelope sticking out. 

"You want me to take that?" Michelle asked, somewhat taken back by this 
unusual occurrence. She gently pulled out the envelope by one comer. The 
girl still said nothing. 

Michelle glance down and found the outside of the envelope addressed to her 
and Sandy by name. The script was rather ornate and fancy. She opened the 
flap. Inside was a short note, written in the same hand. 

"This girl's name is Rebecca," it read. "Please allow her inside and close 
the door." 

Michelle glanced up at the redhead who was still mute. "Sure. Okay. Come on 
in," she said, standing aside to allow the other girl in. 

The girl simply stood there in the middle of the room, expectantly and 
eagerly watching Michelle. "I would appreciate were you to unzip her 
jacket," the note continued, "so you might observe her condition. Please do 
not expect her to answer any of your questions, she is holding a golf ball 
in her mouth and has orders not to speak." 

Then Michelle realized what had been nagging at the back of her mind. The 
sleeves of that jacket were rather flat. Much like the sleeves when she and 
Sandy played some of the little games. With sure hands, and fairly certain 
what she would find, she took the zipper and pulled it down. The jacket 
popped open to reveal a very nice set of breasts, large and firm, and with 
erect nipples. There was also revealed a considerable amount of thin cord 
wrapped around the body very tightly, so tightly, in fact, that it was 
cutting into the soft flesh in a manner that must have been very 
uncomfortable if not downright painful. Michelle lifted the jacket from the 
girl's shoulders and laid it on the couch. Rebecca immediately did a little 
turn to show off the rest of the bondage. 

Her arms were crossed behind her, forearm against forearm, and tightly 
bound. With the amount of cordage and the tightness, the only thing this 
girl would be able to do is wiggle her fingers. Or should have been able to 
had not her fingers been taped together and then taped flat to her forearms. 
Simply put, the girl couldn't move her hands or arms at all. It was a very 
effective piece of bondage. 

Michelle was puzzled but interested. Who had done this? And why was this 
girl sent to them? Michelle tried to think of any of their friends who might 
have done this, as a joke or otherwise, but came up blank. "You're holding a 
golf ball in your mouth?" she asked. The girl nodded. Now her eyes seemed to 
be laughing, or at least sparkling with delight. "Would you like to be 
untied?" 

Rebecca immediately shook her head. Then she nodded towards the note again. 
"Okay," muttered Michelle. 

"I am aware that the two of you often play bondage games. I am something of 
an expert at such games, as you two are. Presenting Rebecca to you is my way 
of demonstrating this. You may examine her and her bondage. But please do 
not remove any of it. You may also play with her, if you so wish." 

Michelle's eyebrow went up at that. Play with this girl? It was an 
interesting idea but she was too puzzled about the whole thing to indulge 
herself. At least not yet. She returned to the note. 

"If you two would like to meet with me, be at D'Arcy Restaurant at 8 p.m., 
tomorrow night. We will talk over lobster tails and wine. When finished with 
Rebecca, please replace her jacket and let her out." The note was signed, 
"Mistress Marla." 

"Is this Mistress Marla for real?" asked Michelle. Rebecca nodded. Michelle 
bit her lower lip. This was all very strange. She hesitantly reached out a 
hand and touched one erect nipple on the bound girl. Rebecca stepped forward 
so her breast pushed into Michelle's palm. Obviously the girl was willing to 
be touched while she was bound up and sort of gagged. 

Michelle withdrew the hand. Rebecca looked the slightest bit hurt. As she 
considered what to do, Michelle glanced at the note again and noticed an 
extra line below the signature. "Please be sure to show Rebecca to your 
friend who is currently naked and well bound in your bedroom." 

Michelle looked up quickly. How did some stranger know that Sandy was naked 
and bound in their bedroom? Was this some kind of set up? Michelle went back 
to the front door and double locked it. Then she went to the bedroom and 
confirmed that the drapes were still pulled shut. She was pretty sure no one 
could possibly see into their bedroom. She returned to Rebecca who was 
patiently waiting in the middle of the carpet. 

"Well, might as well show you to Sandy," Michelle said. "She won't believe 
this any more than I do." She put a hand on Rebecca's arm and led the girl 
to the bedroom. Sandy was still sitting there. Her eyes were closed and her 
hips were making small motions back and forth. She was obviously still very 
sexually excited. Michelle positioned Rebecca directly in front of Sandy, 
then tapped her friend on the shoulder. "Look what I found," she said with a 
smile. 

Sandy opened her eyes a little then suddenly they shot open wide. "What...? 
Who...? What...?" 

"You're repeating yourself," said Michelle. "This is Rebecca. She was at the 
door. This note explains all." She held the note for Sandy to read. 

For perhaps five seconds after finishing the note Sandy said nothing, merely 
sat there looking at the very nice breasts and tightly corded arms and body 
of this strange girl. Then she turned to Michelle and said, "Untie me. I'll 
play with her! Oh, boy, will I play with her." 

"Whoa! Slow down. We don't know what's going on here," Michelle advised. 

"I know a well tied girl when I see one," replied Sandy. "Come on, untie me! 
You're not going to keep her all to yourself, are you? Let me get my hands 
on her." 

Throughout all this Rebecca smiled but didn't seem distressed to hear Sandy 
wanting to get at her. In fact, she seemed pleased at the attention. 

"Come on, Michelle, untie me. You are going to, aren't you? Michelle?" 

The sadistic tormentor rose to the surface within Michelle. She smiled 
sweetly and stroked Sandy's pert breast. "I do seem to have the upper hand, 
don't I?" she purred. "Rebecca, what can we do to you?" 

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders, and raised one eyebrow. 

"Need yes or no questions, huh? Okay, can we spank you?" 

Rebecca nodded and smiled. 

"Can we tie you up in some terribly tight and painfully contorted position?" 
Again the nodded and an even bigger smile "Can we make love to you and force 
you to make love to us?" 

Rebecca smiled and stepped forward until her breasts were rubbing against 
the front of Michelle's blouse. 

"I take that to mean yes." Michelle allowed the bound girl to continue her 
pressing against her for a bit then gently pushed her back. "I'll tell you 
what to do," she said firmly. "Never did like uppity slaves," she added in a 
mutter. 

Rebecca immediately knelt at Michelle's feet and bowed her head 
submissively. 

"Oh, boy!" muttered Michelle. 

"Oh, shit!" cried Sandy. "Let me at her! Why do you get all the fun?" 

"Remember how you tied me to the balcony rail during that rain storm a 
couple months ago? And how you tied me in a ball, gagged me, and locked me 
in the closet while you invited George over and let him make love to you on 
our bed? Don't give me that sob story." Michelle turned her attention to 
Rebecca, leaving the fuming Sandy struggling against her ropes. "Can you 
take that golf ball out?" she asked. 

Rebecca sadly shook her head negatively. 

"Wait a minute," said Michelle, waving the note. "This note only says that 
you are under orders not to speak. It doesn't say anything about that golf 
ball staying in your mouth. If you were to be careful not to say a word..." 

Rebecca pushed the white golf ball out then spent a few seconds moving her 
jaw around. That done, she simply nodded once and awaited orders. 

Michelle had Rebecca move over until she was pressed against the front of 
Sandy's chair. Then she pushed the redhead down until it was buried between 
Sandy's open thighs. Suddenly Sandy gasped. "Oh! Oh! That's good," she cried 
in delight. "Go ahead. Do it! I love it." 

There followed a long, drawn out period of lesbian lovemaking as Michelle 
used her new toy to satisfy both her and her friend. For a while she let 
Rebecca bring Sandy right up to the brink of an orgasm, then she would pull 
the girl back and leave a frustrated Sandy uttering curses and straining 
violently against the ropes. But eventually she miscalculated and Sandy 
burst into climax under the talented tongue of the unspeaking stranger. 

Rebecca's next task was to service Michelle as she knelt between her legs. 
Michelle pulled up her skirt and allowed the active tongue to lash her clit 
and dive into her pussy. She held off as long as she could but finally could 
evade the inevitable no longer. With a gasp of pleasure, she clamped both 
hands on the back of Rebecca's head and pushed her face hard into her pussy 
as she climaxed. 

Later Sandy was freed from the chair but her arms not untied. She was then 
put on the bed and Rebecca order to bring her to another climax, which the 
redhead did with expert tonguing. When Sandy returned to the real world, 
Michelle turned her over onto her face on the bed and placed a large rubber 
dildo in her bound hands. She told Sandy to hold it straight up. Then she 
ordered and helped Rebecca place her body over the dildo and lowered herself 
until it was buried deep inside her. Then Michelle straddled Sandy's legs 
and grabbed Rebecca's large breasts from behind. She squeezed the breasts 
hard and ordered the girl to come to a climax. 

Rebecca obeyed and was soon humping her hips up and down on the artificial 
penis. Sandy had to hold on to the end tightly to keep the toy from being 
pulled out of her hands. Fortunately it wasn't very long before Rebecca was 
arching her body backwards and shivering all over with her own orgasm. 

It was two hours later before Michelle pushed the still bound Rebecca out 
the front door. The golf ball had been replaced as had the jacket. Their 
questions held gone unanswered, and the two girls finally stopped trying to 
get information out of Rebecca. 

With a contented sigh, Michelle joined the still bound Sandy in bed and, 
after a bit of resting with her arms around the naked roommate, they made 
love to each other. This time it was slower and more gentle but still 
lovely. 

The next day neither of the girls said a word about whether or not they were 
going to meet this mysterious Mistress Marla or not. It was simply 
understood that they would. 

 3 

Mistress Marla 

The girls were early at the specified restaurant. Both had dressed in short 
brown skirts and matching tan blouses, without bras, which showed when they 
walked and their ample breasts bounced. They thought it would be nice for 
them to look alike. And, with the high heels the wore, both were looking 
very sexy. 

Before either could say a word, the head waiter bowed and informed them that 
they were expected. He bid them follow and led them across the main dinning 
area to a small private room. There was only one table, large enough for 
four people. A window to the right gave a lovely view of the last fading 
glow of the sunset and a million shinning lights of the city below. One 
woman was sitting at the table, one was sitting in a corner. The waiter 
bowed again and backed out, closing the door behind him. 

Michelle lifted on eyebrow and smiled slightly. Sandy's mouth fell open and 
stayed there. The woman at the table was perhaps mid thirties, had long dark 
hair and pretty, dark features. She sat there as a queen on her throne, 
regal without being too haughty. But it was the girl sitting in the corner 
that held Sandy and Michelle's attention. It was Rebecca. And it was a 
Rebecca looking much as she had in their bedroom. She was naked, she was 
tied with thin cords wrapped tightly around her arms and chest, and she was 
sitting on a bar stool in the comer. Her legs were tied to the stool and she 
was gagged with an arrangement of leather and steel that covered the entire 
lower half of the poor girl's face and strapped tightly around her head. She 
sat there with her back rigid and her head bowed. 

"Don't mind her, girls," said the seated woman as she rose to greet them. 
"She's being punished. She won't be eating with us. My name's Mistress 
Marla." 

"Your parents gave you a strange first name," said Sandy. "Mistress, I mean. 
Strange." 

"It is a title, of course," replied Marla but without a trace of anger. She 
smiled and seemed to find Sandy's sarcasm amusing. "Please be seated. The 
first course will be served shortly. But first a little wine." 

Michelle took the chair to Marla's left and Sandy to her right. Immediately 
a waiter entered and pour wine for the two newcomers, a white wine. 

"You should like this wine, it's an early May wine from my estate in 
France." 

"Yes, it is good," said Michelle after a sip. 

"Yeah, good," added Sandy after a big gulp that drained the glass. The 
waiter refilled it then retreated out of the room. 

Michelle studied their hostess. This woman's features were slightly dark and 
the eyes a strange shade of violet. But Michelle could not place the 
features to any particular nationality. Nor could she place the slight 
accent that tinted her words. "Tell me," asked Michelle casually, "what does 
the management of this establishment think of naked and bound women in the 
private dinning rooms?" 

"They don't think anything. They're paid too much to bother thinking." Marla 
sipped from her glass daintily. "Besides," she added as she set the glass 
down, "I own the restaurant." 

"Neat," was Michelle's reply. "Rebecca's not being punished because we used 
her last night, is she?" 

"Of course not. I expected you two to use her. She failed me in another way 
and will spend the night in the corner. An appropriate punishment for a girl 
who acted like a silly school girl, don't you think?" 

"I've been tied like that," said Sandy. "Gets uncomfortable after a while." 
"Of course," was all Marla said. 

'Tell me, how did you know that we were into... Ah, these types of games?" 

"I had a private detective investigate you two after I saw you in that 
shopping mall. It wasn't too hard to find out what I needed to know." 

"From the privacy of our bedroom?" asked Michelle. 

Marla smiled. "Of course. The bug is hidden inside your phone. That will 
save you the trouble of searching for it when you get home." 

Michelle smiled back but without humor or goodwill. She wasn't too pleased 
at the idea of their having been spied upon. "So we like the same kinds of 
games you do," she said. "So what?" 

Marla paused before answering the question. "I enjoy girls who understand 
the things you do. Of course, you two are just beginners." 

"We can tie pretty good," cut in Sandy. "I wouldn't call us beginners." 

"Of course. I'm sure you have gotten good with the ropes. Apparently you've 
been living together for over a year, and practicing most of that time. But 
I speak of the domination of one person over another. You two have... How 
shall I say it, potential?" 

"She gets pretty dominant," commented Sandy with a nod towards Michelle. 

"Your little bondage games are only a part of a bigger picture," continued 
Marla, ignoring the dark haired girl. "Have either of you given yourself 
completely over to another? I think not." 

Sandy frowned. But Michelle only pursed her lips. "Maybe we're not playing 
the same game, after all," she offered. "Perhaps we should go." 

Sandy looked puzzled. Marla merely smiled again. "You are free to go. But 
perhaps you would like to at least enjoy dinner before you go. The food here 
is really quite excellent." 

Sandy looked at Rebecca who continued to sit there with bowed head. "Yeah, I 
would like to stick around for the food," she said. It wasn't too hard to 
see that she was also hoping for some more action similar to what had 
transpired last time that they found Rebecca bound up. 

"Lobster tails, you said," said Michelle. "I like lobster tails." 

"Good. We'll talk no more of this until after dinner." 

Dinner was indeed excellent. The lobster tails had been flown in from 
Australia alive. The salad, soup, and side dishes were all worthy of a five 
star rating. And a different wine was served with each course. Sandy drank 
more than she should, as was usual with her, but Michelle part took in 
moderation. And enjoyed the meal. 

Nothing more was said of bondage or domination or submission. And the naked 
and bound girl in the comer might not have been there for all the attention 
everyone paid to her. 

It wasn't until the coffee that Marla again brought up the subject 
apparently dear to her heart. "I have a big house in Bel Air," she began. 
"It's really more than I need, so I converted some of the lower rooms into 
playroom. More of dungeons, actually. On Saturday night I would like one of 
you to deliver the other to my house. The girl being delivered will be 
wearing a coat but be naked and bound under that. I know you two are 
familiar with this procedure. I will play with that girl as I wish for the 
entire night. She will be released Sunday morning." 

"You mean you want to tie one of us up?" asked Sandy. 

"That. And other things. I will only promise that no serious harm will 
befall you. This time, at least." Her dark eyes and secret smile hinted at 
many mysterious things. "The other of you may observe." 

"What makes you think we will come?" asked Michelle. "Because I asked you 
to." It was a simple reply and delivered without a hint of humor or sarcasm. 
"You want me to deliver Sandy to you, all wrapped up like a Christmas 
present? So you can torture her?" 

"Hey," interjected Sandy, "you might be the one tied. She said one of us." 

Michelle continued. "And let you play with her all night?" 

"Torture is such a harsh word," said Marla smoothly. "Such a harsh word. I 
promised there would be no harm. Pain... Perhaps. But no harm." 

"Will Rebecca be there?" asked Sandy. "I like her." 

"Rebecca will be there. Would you like her to be naked and tightly 
restrained?" 

"Yeah," sighed Sandy. "Here is my address. The time is eight o'clock." 

"You take too much for granted," said Michelle, always the more cautious of 
the two. "I don't think we'll do it." 

"You will." Sandy frowned at Michelle. "Why won't we go?" she said to her 
friend. "Sounds like it might be fun." 

"Sounds like it might be a pain in the ass," replied Michelle without taking 
her eyes off Marla. 

"Well, a little whipping with a belt isn't something new to us, you know," 
retorted Sandy. "Makes the tied up girl struggle real nice." 

For a while no one spoke. Michelle was trying to figure out what was behind 
this woman's request. Beyond the obvious, that is. She wanted to play with 
one of them. And that playing might become a little rough. But was there 
more to it? Was there something hidden behind this woman's politeness to 
them? 

Finally Michelle rose from the table. "Thank you for dinner," she said. "It 
was, indeed, fine food. I've never tasted better lobster tails." 

Marla rose with the two girls. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." She escorted them 
to the door. "Until Saturday." 

Sandy looked longingly at the naked girl in the corner but could sense that 
Michelle would not like her to make any suggestions just then. The door 
closed and the head waiter was instantly there to escort them out of the 
restaurant. 

Michelle and Sandy walked along the beach, for a change neither of them 
wearing ropes, handcuffs, chains, or straps of any kind. But they did tease 
the local boys with a pair of bikini's that left little to the imagination 
and provided very little warmth. It was early evening and the sun was low 
over the water, tinting the few high clouds with shades of crimson and burnt 
orange. Seagulls squawked demands for food overhead and children chased the 
charge and retreat of the foamy water. 

"Why shouldn't we go?" asked Sandy. "It sounds okay." "There's something 
wrong here," replied Michelle. "I just don't trust that Marla. Mistress 
Marla, she calls herself. I know we've played our little bondage games with 
other girls, and guys sometimes. But she's different. Like... Well, like out 
of our league. Know what I mean?" 

"Yeah, she's different, all right. But maybe being rich makes you 
different." 

"Hard logic to argue with, but that's not what I mean. Would you have ever 
thought of having a naked and bound up and gagged girl sitting on a stool in 
the corner of a plush restaurant's private room?" 

"If I owned the restaurant, I guess I would." Sandy suddenly brightened. 
"But only one of us is going to be tied and played with. The other will be 
free to make sure things are on the up and up." 

"Maybe..." 

Inside, Michelle really wanted to go. It would be interesting to see what 
this Mistress Marla would do with one of them. And what condition that 
really beautiful and utterly submissive Rebecca would be when they got 
there. Probably hanging by her thumbs from the rafters. But she was still 
uneasy. 

"Maybe if we told her that we told a friend were we were, she would know she 
can't do anything funny," offered Sandy. 

"That's not a bad idea," conceded Michelle. "And one of us will be free at 
all times..." 

"Michelle, I'll volunteer to be the one who is tied up," Sandy said with a 
sigh. "I had wanted to get my hands on that Rebecca, but I'll be the one 
tied if I have to. I'm sure I'll enjoy myself some... A little bit. Maybe." 
"You'll enjoy yourself immensely, and you know it," retorted Michelle. Sandy 
only smiled. "Okay, if you want to volunteer, I guess we'll go. But I stay 
free all night. That should be good enough." 

Sandy threw her arms around Michelle and kissed her soundly upon the lips. 
That act of happiness and friendship evoked groans from numerous male 
onlookers. 

Mistress Marla's house was at the end of small canyon in what can only be 
described as "seclusion". There was a huge iron gate set between two massive 
brick pillars. There was a fence running to the left and right of the 
pillars that must have been twelve feet tall if an inch. Beyond only trees 
and shrubs could be seen. 

Michelle paused at the gate to look for a speaker into which to announce 
their arrival but could see none. Just as she was noticing the two 
surveillance cameras, the gate silently and majestically swung open. 

"Impressive," muttered Sandy from her position of restraint in the passenger 
seat. As per their instructions, Sandy was wearing only a coat and high 
heels, her arms tightly bound behind her back under the thick blue material. 
For the trip in the car, Michelle had also bound her ankles and buckled the 
seat belt tightly over her body. Sandy was enjoying herself with the delight 
of a small child on Christmas Eve. But, in keeping with game, she had 
uttered protests every mile of their drive. "You didn't have to tie my 
elbows together," she said sulkily. "They hurt." 

"It looks better that way," said Michelle absently as she negotiated the 
curvy driveway. "And you behave yourself better if you're hurting a little 
bit. Ah, there's the house." 

House was an understatement. The place was a mansion by any definition of 
the word. Done in old English style, it would have suited the Queen for a 
summer residence. Two stories of far larger than normal height and width 
framed the massive oaken front door. Michelle brought the car to a halt in 
the courtyard before the house as just sat there looking at the impressive 
structure. 

"I don't suppose it's all false front and hollow behind there, like in the 
movies," muttered Michelle. 

"Our new friend is certainly wealthy," said Sandy quietly. 

But the spell could not go on forever. Turning to Sandy, Michelle asked 
again, "You sure you want to go through with this?" 

"Of course. Nothing will go wrong. The worst is I'll get my bottom whipped. 
And that's happened before. Don't worry. You see me worrying?" 

"You're too trusting for your own good. Well, let's go." 

The front door opened as Michelle was opening the car door for Sandy. 
Mistress Marla emerged, wearing a lovely cat suit of black leather. Her high 
heels clicked against the paving bricks. 

"I'm so glad you came," she said regally. "We'll have such fun." 

"If you'll just wait a minute, I'll untie her ankles and we'll come inside," 
said Michelle as she unbuckled the seat belt. 

"No need," said Marla with a smile. "Henry!" 

At her command a huge black man dressed in formal clothes stepped out of the 
door and approached the car. Michelle found herself stepping aside as she 
looked up at the tall and very strong looking man. He easily reached in and 
picked up Sandy in his arms. 

"Henry used to play football in this country," Marla explained as they all 
followed him and his bound package. "He's quite strong. He told me he got 
that way from throwing quarterbacks around or something like that. And 
bouncing tight ends, whatever that means. But he's very useful." 

Michelle didn't argue the point. The interior of the house screamed money, 
lush carpets that you sank into up to the ankle, very expensive paintings, 
oak paneling in most rooms, and cut crystal chandeliers. The party stopped 
in a room that might have been a den. There was a large fireplace, several 
bookshelves and a host of comfortable sofas and chairs. Sandy was set down 
in the middle of the room on her feet. Michelle could tell she was about to 
say something from the way she was looking dreamily up into the eyes of that 
rather handsome black man. But before she could interrupt, Marla dismissed 
Henry with a wave of her hand. 

"Now let's see what present you've brought me," she purred as she approached 
the dark haired Sandy, teetering on her bound ankles and high heels. As 
Marla slowly unbuttoned the front of the coat, Michelle noted that their 
hostess had a riding crop dangling from her belt. Slowly those magnificent 
breasts became visible, young and proud and protruding in a most pronounced 
manner due to the binding of the girl's elbows behind her. Sandy smiled and 
stuck them out as much as she could. She was very proud of her fine breasts. 

"Very nice, very nice indeed." Marla seemed pleased. She tossed the coat to 
a sofa and circled the nudity before her, noting the curves of soft skin, 
the tight cords cutting into the arms, and the firmness of the youthful 
body. "Very nice indeed." 

Suddenly she turned and walked to a bar against one wall. "What may I offer 
you?" she asked Michelle. "My detectives didn't find out your preference in 
drinks. Martini?" 

"I'll have a little white wine, if you please," replied Michelle. "Will 
Sandy have to drink hers through a straw?" 

"Slaves don't get drinks." It was a simple statement but spoke volumes. 

The wine was served with Marla pouring hers from a wicker covered bottle 
with funny writing on it. "Nastrova!" offered the leather clad woman, 
raising her glass. Michelle replied to the obvious toast with "Health". 

A small cabinet drawer produced the next attraction which was a pair of 
small metal clamps, each hardly larger than the nipples they were to go on. 
Marla took them to the naked girl still standing on the carpet. Without 
preamble she took one breast in her hand and placed one clamp over the 
already erect nipple. The shape was basically a circle with a small lump on 
the edge. That lump had a small slotted head set in it, and it was into that 
slot that Marla inserted a tiny screwdriver. She turned the screw until 
Sandy frowned then emitted a little cry of distress. 

"That hurts," she uttered. "And it feels sharp." 

"The inside does have tiny studs," Marla informed. "But the main pain will 
come from the pressure of metal squeezing flesh." She turned another half 
turn and was rewarded with serious cry of pain. The other clamp was then 
attached to the other nipple, accompanied by another cry of pain. The naked 
and bound girl shook her chest as it to get it away from the pain but 
Marla's firm hand upon her already captured nipple clamp was enough to 
insure that she would stay in that spot. Besides, a girl with her ankles 
bound can't run too fast. 

When Sandy calmed down, Marla stepped back to join Michelle. Both simply 
watched the dark haired girl trying to cope with this new pain. She tilted 
her head down and blew on the small metal clamps that were hurting her so. 
"They burn," she informed with a little trace of anger. "They hurt." 

With disdain for the complaints of Sandy, Marla clapped her hands once 
sharply and Henry instantly appeared. "Carry her down to the dungeon." 

"The dungeon?" inquired Michelle as they followed the large black man who 
was easily carrying her whining friend. "You have a dungeon?" 

"Originally it was a wine cellar and basement storage room. I had it made 
larger then converted into a dungeon. It's quite functional," Marla said, 
matter-of-factly. 

A stairs led them down to the dungeon. Michelle's first impression was of a 
health club, a large room filled with exercise equipment. But a second look 
showed her that health was not the main concern here. The equipment included 
most every type of torture device Michelle could imagine and a few she 
didn't know the use of at all. To the left was a pillory set in its own 
platform and made of stout oak and looking like it could hold an elephant. 
Next to that was a rack looking sort of like a table with a ladder laying on 
it. But there was a windlass at one end of that ladder. Michelle knew that 
just to have to lay on that rack would be uncomfortable because of the rungs 
under you. Next was a set of stocks. The wood was again oak and quite stout. 
There was a two inch thick board turned on edge for a seat and solid looking 
yokes with holes for the ankles, hands and even neck. The locks were huge 
and intimidating. 

The right wall displayed three wooden posts from floor to ceiling and an 
array of whips, ropes, chains, and other restraints hanging from hooks on 
the wall. There was a metal chair that was bolted to the floor. Michelle had 
to look twice to believe her eyes for the chair's seat had a metal dildo 
sticking straight up! A girl forced to sit in that chair would be shafted 
but good! 

There was also a number of rings set into the walls, ceiling, and even some 
in the floor in places. There were two places where chains hung down from 
holes in the ceiling. There was a wooden bar set at waist height. From the 
rings on the floor around it, Michelle figured that a girl could put her 
tummy against that bar and bend over it. The rings were at just the right 
places to secure the wrists and ankles in a spread position. The girl 
wouldn't be able to move much and her bottom would certainly be available 
for whipping. 

There was a small platform that puzzled Michelle. While Henry was carrying 
Sandy over to one of the overhead chains, she stepped over to that platform 
to see it closer. It seemed to be a very flat box sitting on the floor. 
There were four holes in the box, two each on cracks. She realized that two 
opposite sides of the box could be opened on hinges which would make the box 
sort of like a pillory. But against the floor? She was trying to figure out 
how it would work when Marla's voice cut into her speculations. 

"The ankles go in one set of holes, the wrists in the other," she said. 
"Holds the girl bend over. Very good for whipping the bottom." 

"Or for a standing screw, if you're a man," replied Michelle. One eyebrow on 
Marla rose a quarter of an inch in disdain for the very thought of a man 
doing such a thing. 

"Well, what do you have in mind for Sandy?" Michelle asked to change the 
subject. Apparently Marla was a confirmed lesbian. "I'm anxious to see how 
you play with her." 

Marla turned her attention to where Henry was holding Sandy upright with one 
hand on her bound arms. Sandy was still blowing on the nipple clamps as if 
that would do any good for the burning pain. And she tried to look angry at 
her captors. 

"It might be amusing to bind her over that bar with her legs spread wide. 
Her ass would be sticking right up in the air, no? We could let Henry have 
his way with her. There would be nothing she could do about it, right?" 

Michelle said nothing. She was aware that Henry could overhear what was 
being said. And, although Henry was not a bad looking man and certainly was 
a hunk, she wasn't too hot on the idea of Sandy being screwed by a stranger. 
Besides, she also wasn't sure of what Sandy would think of it. "Perhaps..." 
she said, but in such a way that it sounded negative. "What is that?" 
Michelle added, pointing to a short post she saw in the far corner of the 
rather large room. 

Marla smiled and walked towards the post in question. As they drew closer, 
Michelle say with some surprise that the post was topped with a wooden 
replica of a male phallus, beautifully carved and painted with enamel in 
life-like colors. The artificial penis was large enough to cause any girl to 
feel filled up, but probably not large enough to do any damage. Unless the 
girl was on the small side, that is. "Oh, now I see what it is. A girl 
straddles it and sort of... Well, she simply has to stand there with it 
inside her." 

Marla touched a button on the wall and the replica of the male tool rose 
smoothly. A second button made it lower. Marla smiled. "Care to try it? It 
can be a great deal of fun." 

"No thanks. Maybe some other time." Michelle lightly touched the side of the 
phallus and a tiny shiver raced down her spine. What would it feel like to 
be standing there with that thing deep inside her? If it were pushed up far 
enough she would be on her toes and unable to get off, even if her hands 
were free. With bound arms and ankles tied to the bottom of the shaft or to 
those floor rings on either side of it, she would be rather helpless. It 
might be interesting to try it, she thought. And almost said so aloud but 
remembered that she had promised to stay out of bondage games so that she 
would be able to protect Sandy. "Perhaps another time..." she said again, 
and meant it. 

"Henry, bring that slave over here," Marla commanded. Henry again picked up 
the naked girl, carried her over, and set her down besides the shaft. He 
untied her ankles without being told to and positioned the puzzled girl over 
the shaft. The prong was a couple inches below Sandy's pussy and the young 
girl was looking down with a strange mixture of fear and delight on her 
face. 

"You're not going to do what I think you're going to do, are you?" Sandy 
asked. "Is that thing...?" 

Marla did not answer. Michelle was beginning to see that in Mistress Marla's 
world, the questions, wants and wishes of slavegirls were ignored. At her 
command, Henry secured Sandy's ankles to rings in the floor so that they 
were spread about two feet apart. Then he stepped back. 

Marla removed her crop from her belt and approached Sandy. She teased one 
clamped and hurting nipple with the tip of the riding crop. "The penis will 
certainly come up inside you. my dear. And, unlike the real thing, it will 
never fail you. Have you ever been impaled upon an artificial penis, dear?" 

"Well," Sandy began, "we have a couple dildos, and I've been tied up with 
one inside my pussy. I guess that's the same, isn't it? Sometimes I'm tied 
up all night with the thing inside me." She was smiling now. Pleasant 
memories, undoubtedly. "It's fun but I stay so horny all night." 

"I'm sure you do," commented Marla. Turning to Michelle, she added, "I 
didn't know you two were that far along." 

"Along what?" asked Michelle. 

Marla smiled. "Along a long, long path." She put a hand down between Sandy's 
legs. Her fingers came away moist. Then she took the two steps back to the 
wall and pressed the up button. Between the pain, the bondage, and being 
naked before strangers, and an artificial penis now nudging against the lips 
of her vagina, Sandy was becoming quite turned on. She moaned and spread her 
thighs a bit wider to accept the prong slowly moving upward. Marla checked 
but it was not necessary to guide the dildo into it's new home, the lips 
were spread and the head already entering smoothly into the moist tunnel. 

For a while all three observers simply watched as this lovely girl moaned 
and wiggled with delight. "Oh, it's so big!" she repeated, along with, "It's 
so good!" Her eyes were closed as all of her concentrated upon the wonderful 
sensations generating heat within her loins. "Oh, saints preserve us, that's 
good!" Forgotten was the painfully tight manner in which her elbows had been 
bound behind her back for over an hour now. Gone were thoughts of the metal 
devils that clamped upon her nipples and caused her constant pain. All that 
remained in her world was great pleasure. It was beautiful sight to watch a 
blush spread from her face down her neck and almost to her heaving breasts. 
Her breathing quickened to a heavy pant and it was obvious that soon she 
would be reaching an orgasm. Mistress Marla pressed a button and the 
artificial penis began withdrawing, considerably faster than it had gone in. 
Sandy moaned extra loud and tried to move her hips downward to keep it 
within her sheath. "No! Please, make it come back," she begged. 

Marla stopped it with only the head still within her sheath and Sandy 
squatting down as much as she could to get more of it back in her. Marla 
waited until the hot girl began to cool down a bit then pushed a button 
again. The dildo rose back up, much to Sandy's delight. Soon she was on her 
tiptoes to accommodate the invader. Marla stopped it. For a while Sandy just 
stood there, on tip toes, eyes closed, as if savoring some delicious 
sensation. Suddenly she was begging again, "Make it move! Please, make it 
move in and out. I'm so close!" 

Mistress Marla smiled and touched an as yet untouched button. The dildo came 
down a few inches then rose back up. This motion repeated without any use of 
the buttons. In fact, Marla left the wall to come closer to her victim. 

Sandy was gasping and moaning. "It's so good," she kept saying, with real 
feeling. 

Michelle leaned forward to confirm what she thought she heard. "It's 
vibrating," she said as a half question, half statement to Marla. 

"Yes. A rather strong vibrator, too. I estimate she will orgasm in ten 
seconds." 

The estimate was off by at least four seconds. Sandy's body stiffened and 
her head arched back as she tried to trust her breasts forward and clench 
her thighs together. Tremors raced through her body, and a loud moan escaped 
her lips as she reached what she so much wanted, an intense sexual 
satisfaction. She slumped and looked like she might have fallen to the floor 
had not that shaft been buried so deeply within her body. 

For a while, all those present watched, undoubted both women feeling that 
intense sensation along with the naked and bound girl. Or at least 
remembering. As to Henry, he stood quietly in the background and said 
nothing. The scene might have held no interest at all for all that could be 
seen on his face. 

Finally Sandy began to come down from her sexual high. But the mechanical 
rape of her sex continued as she stood there. "Oh, oh, oh! Please, I've had 
enough... For now," she pleaded. As was the custom in this strange place, 
her pleas were ignored. 

With wave of her hand, Marla gave some order to the waiting Henry, then 
turned towards the door. "Henry will fix her so she can't hurt herself, even 
if she passes out," she said casually. "We can go upstairs and have a 
drink." 

Michelle followed but looked back from the door to see Henry tying a rope 
around those already on Sandy's elbows and running that overhead to a 
pulley. The rope would prevent the girl from falling. Michelle noted that 
the motor was still driving the dildo in its up and down motion and 
vibrating. Strange emotions alternated on Sandy's face, perhaps as she tried 
to decide if this was heaven or torture. 

Upstairs in the den, Marla mixed cocktails, turned on some quiet background 
music and was the perfect hostess. Michelle gratefully accepted a stronger 
drink than was her custom for she was excited by what she had seen. This 
Mistess Marla was carrying their little games to a whole new plateau. And it 
was not without effect on Michelle, herself. The desire to become a part of 
the games was very strong. She would probably have asked to try that 
mechanical girl- screwing machine had not she promised that she would not 
engage in any activity that would prevent her from watching out for Sandy. 
She was even a little nervous leaving her friend downstairs with that hunk 
of a black man. But she also had the feeling that Marla was the one running 
things and that Henry would not touch a hair of Sandy's head without Marla's 
permission. 

For a while the two women sat and sipped their drinks. 

Michelle had questions but was unsure which to ask first. It was Marla who 
broke the silence. 

"Your friend is wonderful! A natural slavegirl if ever I saw one." 

"You're not planning to do anything about that? I mean, like try to keep her 
here?" asked Michelle, trying not to sound worried. 

"Of course not, darling. I gave my word that the two of you would be free to 
walk out of her tomorrow morning, and you shall be. And I won't even suggest 
that you allow yourself to be bound up." She paused for a drink. "Unless you 
really want to...?" 

Michelle's reply was quick. "No. I don't want to. Not this time. Although, 
I'll admit that your little game with Sandy would be... Well, interesting." 

Marla laughed. "I'm sure it would. You know, I have Henry test every game, 
as you call them, on me first. That way I fully understand what my slave is 
going through and feeling. I had him stand me like your Sandy is bound for 
four hours one afternoon. I thought that my pussy was going to be wore out! 
I lost count of how many orgasms I had. That's easy to do when the machine 
won't let you stop." 

"Were your arms bound behind you the same as Sandy's?" asked Michelle. 

"Yes. As a matter of fact, almost identical. The only real difference was 
that after the first half hour I ordered Henry to gag me and put the 
discipline hood on me. That way I couldn't change my mind about receiving 
the full four hours I had asked for. You do know what a discipline hood is, 
don't you?" 

"I've seen pictures." 

"A marvelous device. Makes a girl feel so very helpless. First you fill the 
mouth with a ball gag that is strapped in tight. Then you put the soft 
leather of the discipline hood over the girl's head and lace it up in the 
back. It laces tightly so that every square inch of her head is feeling the 
pressure of the leather. Then the collar around the neck is locked tightly 
on, and the girl can't remove it, even if she had hands free to try. Very 
effective." 

"I'm sure." 

"I'm telling you so you'll understand that I know what my slavegirls are 
going through," Mistress Marla said. "It helps no end when I have to 
punishment them." 

"You've tested every slavegirl punishment?" The word slavegirl came 
hesitantly to Michelle's lips, she was not used to thinking that way. She 
and Sandy usually referred to each other as the "victim." 

Marla did not reply verbally. Instead she stood quietly and unzipped the 
front of her leather suit. When the top slid off to expose a very 
young-looking and firm pair of breasts, she turned around. On her back were 
half a dozen discolored lines crisscrossing the flesh. 

"Are those...?" said Michelle in disbelief. 

"Whip marks? Yes, they are. They've faded because it was over a week ago. 
But they are whip marks." 

"I find that hard to believe." 

"It's quite true. How can I whip a slavegirl if I don't know how it feels to 
be whipped?" Marla made it sound so logical. "Same goes for all the 
punishments. I've spent a day in the stocks, the pillories, even a full 
twenty-four hours tightly bound to one of the posts." 

Michelle was speechless. It was simply incredible to her that this obviously 
dominant woman would submit herself to these tortures. 

Marla pulled up her suit and zipped the front closed. "I said I try every 
punishment before using it on a slavegirl, and I mean it." 

The obvious implication of that statement hit Michelle. "You mean that 
you've whipped some girl? Actually whipped her across the back? That's 
medieval!" 

"No, it's simply common practice for keeping slavegirls in line. And it goes 
back much farther than the Middle Ages." 

Michelle took a big drink and choked on the fiery liquor. "Whoa!" she gasped 
when she could. "You can't be serious!" 

"I'm quite serious, my dear. What you don't see is the logical conclusion to 
the games you and Sandy play. You do see that human nature has a submissive 
and a dominant side? 

"I won't deny that." 

"Then just extent your bondage and discipline games to the logical 
conclusion. When you have tied up Sandy and keep her in a state of 
helplessness for five or six or more hours, you're the one in complete 
control. She is totally submissive to your every whim." 

Michelle nodded. She understood very well the feeling of being in complete 
control. As she also understood the feeling of being completely under 
control. Both could be delicious. 

"I simply recognize that human nature is such that some, perhaps most 
people, wish to be kept under total control all of the time. There are, Miss 
Michelle, two kinds of people." Marla paused to take a sip. "There are the 
Masters and the slaves." 

Michelle had nothing she could say. It was right but somehow had to be 
wrong. 

"Tell me, how much of the time are you the one tied up, and how much is 
Sandy the one tied up?" 

"I guess about half and half. Well, maybe Sandy does get tied up a little 
more. She just sort of volunteers for it quicker than I do." 

"It just feel right that she should be the submissive one?" asked Marla. 
"Tell me, how much debate was there as to which of you would be the one tied 
up tonight?" 

Michelle started to reply but then reconsidered her answer. "I guess not 
much. We did argue about coming but there never seemed to be any question 
that Sandy would be the victim." 

"Victim? Is that what you call the submissive one?" 

"Yes." 

"You might try saying 'slave'. It will sound better." 

Michelle let that pass. She wasn't so sure it wasn't a totally correct 
statement. "You said in the restaurant," she began, "that you wanted us to 
become your slaves. Do you really think that will happen?" 

"It will happen." 

"Sandy, perhaps. But I'm nobody's little slavegirl." 

Marla smiled faintly. "No?" 

"No." 

For a minute neither spoke. Michelle, for her part, was mixed up inside. 
There was a tiny, nagging doubt that troubled her mind. 

"Would you like to replace Sandy downstairs?" Marla asked. "I know that you 
don't want to tonight, but if you two were to return next weekend, would you 
want to straddle that mechanical shaft and feel it slide up into you?" 

"It would be interesting." 

"And if I kept you on that shaft all night?" 

"It would be hard but... Well, it would be interesting." 

"You mean exciting?" 

"Yes, exciting. It would be sexually exciting to be like Sandy is now. I 
won't deny that." 

"And if I were to keep you chained and naked all the next day? Would that 
also be exciting?" 

Michelle paused. Part of her wanted to immediately admit that it would be, 
but part told her where this conversation was leading and she wasn't sure 
she wanted it to go that way. "I guess it would be exciting. I've spent 
twenty-four hours wearing handcuffs before. It can be exciting to know that 
you can't get those steel bracelets off." 

"And if I were to keep you forever chained?" 

"Now, wait a minute. That's different!" 

"Is it? Is it really so different? Wouldn't you feel a contentment knowing 
that you never had to worry about the strife and problems of the world 
again? Wouldn't it be good to not have to make decisions? All would be done 
for you, all would be taken care of. Just as you would be taken care of and 
loved." 

Michelle was again silent. It didn't seem right but she didn't know what to 
say to refute this argument. For, indeed, she had thought of just that 
possibility more than once. Sometimes when she was tightly bound and left 
alone in the apartment by Sandy, she thought of what it would be like to be 
constantly keep helpless. In her mind it was mostly tightly bound up for she 
really did like that. But a girl could be kept more practically chained. One 
time she had been left in the apartment for a day and a half, naked and 
wearing handcuffs on her wrists and ankles. Sandy had taken the keys, 
leaving Michelle are real prisoner. And it had left right, Michelle had to 
admit to herself. But she would not admit it to this woman. 

"No need to continue this discussion, I can see the answer in your eyes," 
said Marla. "Another time we will return to this topic. Meantime, should we 
check on Sandy?" 

They returned to the dungeon and the girl still riding that phallic shaft. 
They could hear her moans as soon as they entered. It was obvious that the 
girl was rapidly approaching another climax. Her eyes were shut, her body 
tense, her fingers trembling. The rope tied between her elbows and the 
overhead pulley held her upright. The shaft relentlessly continued it's 
pumping motion within her sex. As they watched she emitted a loud gasp and 
trembled all over. "Oh, lordy! Oh, lordy! My body!" she repeated several 
times before her voice trailed off. 

"How many?" asked Marla. 

"That is the third," replied Henry from his position standing by. 

'Then it's time to add lubricant." "Yes, Mistress." 

"The human body is very durable but I like to help it a little now and 
then," Marla explained as Henry retrieved a jar. Bending down, he applied 
some white cream to the sides of the dildo as it slid almost out. "That 
cream will make the dildo slide easier. It will also make her vagina tingle 
and hot." 

After a minute Sandy's eyes opened half way. "Oh, Michelle... It's... So... 
Wonderful!" the naked and bound girl gasp out. "And sooooo terrible! Please 
stop. No, don't ever let it stop!" 

"She has taken more than three orgasms in one session, has she not?" asked 
Marla of Michelle. 

"I've seen her do half a dozen in little over two hours, if she's kept 
tightly bound and stimulated," admitted Michelle. 

"I thought so. She does seem to be one highly sexual slavegirl." Marla 
fingered the metal clamps still adorning Sandy's nipples. Sandy moaned 
loudly. "She will soon be experiencing another climax," proclaimed Marla. 
"We will let her ride for a while." 

It certainly did seem that Sandy had hardly floated down from one sexual 
high when she was beginning to show signs of becoming excited again. 
Michelle was fascinated. They had done things sort of like this, but this 
was so much more intense. That was the word Michelle settled on, intense. 
Marla's way of playing was more intense than theirs. It made her feel funny 
in the pit of her stomach to think about being in Sandy's place. 

"How long?" Michelle asked. 

"Until she reaches six," came Marla's reply. "After I get to know her 
tolerances better, we can try for more. For tonight, half a dozen will get 
her into the mood for some other games." 

"Other games? You're doing a pretty heavy number on her now," replied 
Michelle. 

"Other games," Marla repeated firmly. "The night is young and I did promise 
you an entire night of fun, did I not?" 

"I'm not sure Sandy will last out the night if it's all like this." 

"She will. I know what I'm doing." 

Apparently Marla did know what she was doing. Sandy burst into her fourth 
orgasm in a very short time with every indication that it was just as 
intense as the first three. 

"Henry, bring in Rebecca," commanded Marla. 

Henry left the room. 

"Yes, you did promise us that Rebecca would be here," said Michelle. "Where 
is she?" 

"She is resting in her cage. She'll soon be here." 

When she was brought in, it didn't appear that Rebecca had gotten much rest. 
The pretty, young redhead was naked. And she was bound rather tightly. Henry 
wheeled her in on a flat topped cart because the girl could not walk at all. 
Her wrists had been pulled up high behind her, crossed and tied with rope 
around her shoulders. Her arms were solidly held up between her shoulder 
blades. Her legs had been bound together at the ankles and above the knees. 
Then her ankles had been pulled up behind her towards her wrists in a very 
tight version of the hogtie with most of the actual strain taken by the 
ropes between the ankles and shoulders. The poor girl's body was laying on 
her side on the cart because it was bent into such an arch that she would 
have fallen over had she been placed on her stomach in the normal hogtie 
position. There was a gag in her mouth, a big red rubber ball to fill it up. 
To judge from her eyes, there was every appearance of her being in 
considerable discomfort. 

"After spending the last three hours in a small cage and tied like this," 
began Mistress Marla, "I'm sure that Rebecca will be more than glad to come 
out and play with us. Henry, if you please." 

Apparently Henry had already been given his instructions for he knew just 
what Mistress Marla desired. That, or they had performed this little game so 
many times that it was had become ritual. He picked up a length of rope and 
tied it to those taunt lengths joining the naked redhead's ankles and 
shoulders. It seemed to Michelle that he took quite a bit of time to make 
sure that the new rope was tied to the existing ropes in just the right 
place. And she wasn't sure why. But when he lowered pressed a button on the 
nearest wall and a chain lowered from a hole in the ceiling directly over 
the tightly trussed up redhead, she began to get an idea what was coming. At 
it was as she thought. The rope was passed through the end link of the chain 
then secured tightly to the ankle-shoulders ropes at another carefully 
selected position. When the button was pressed, Rebecca was hoisted into the 
air. The pain of being suspended by a hogtie was very apparent in her eyes 
and the gasping moans the emitted from behind her gag. Her eyes pleaded with 
her mistress but Michelle could also see that this slavegirl knew there 
would be no mercy. 

"She can take this kind of suspension," said Marla, dryly. "Don't let her 
appearances mislead you. She has be so bound for long periods before this 
day." 

"I'll take you word for that," Michelle said. Marla looked at Michelle but 
did not address her comment. "As you see," she continued after a pause, 
"Henry lifts her up, takes the cart out of the way, then lowers her to the 
desired height." 

The "desired height" had Rebecca's bent body only a couple of feet off the 
floor. Henry left only to return a minute later with a chair. He placed it a 
foot or so in front of the hanging girl. Then he removed the strap gag. 

"If you will make yourself comfortable in the chair," Marla invited 
Michelle. "And pull up your dress. I assume you have no panties on." 

Michelle was amused by the assumption. But it was correct. She sat down on 
the chair and lifted her skirt until her pubic patch was clearly visible. It 
was only after she was perched on the edge of the chair with her private 
place only a few inches from the hanging girl, that she realized she hadn't 
even given a thought to the fact she was exposing herself to a strange man. 
No matter, she told herself, eager for what was coming next. 

Henry lifted her chair forward and Rebecca, obedient to the unspoken orders, 
lifted her head. Quickly the slavegirl's face was buried into Michelle's 
pubic patch. She slumped backwards to make it easier for the bound girl to 
reach that part she wanted attention paid to. Suddenly there was a swift 
slash of the tongue that parted Michelle's lips and gave a tingling 
sensation to her clit. A shutter raced down her spine. It did feel good! 
Very good. As the tongue returned, she eased herself back even more and 
closed her eyes. 

The naked and suspended girl did not hesitate. She was obviously in pain and 
perhaps thought that if she brought Michelle to a climax quickly it would 
end her suffering equally as quickly. She licked, teased and plunged her 
tongue into Michelle's sex with an expertise that spoke of long practice. 
Michelle was really enjoying this service when there was a sudden crack and 
Rebecca's head jerked back. Immediately it returned to it's task but 
Michelle keep her eyes open and was able to see the second impact of 
Mistress Marla's riding crop against Rebecca's bare flank. An angry red mark 
was left and the hanging girl again jerked with the pain. But she continued 
her oral sex as best and fast as she could. 

Michelle sucked in breath as Rebecca's lips surrounded her clit and began a 
gentle sucking. This girl was so damned good at her job. Another crack 
echoed in the dungeon and the suspended body jerked. But she keep her face 
buried into Michelle's pubic hair and her lips and tongue busy. 

Michelle was torn between her desire to close her eyes and surrender totally 
to the wonderful sensations in her sex, and the strange desire to watch that 
riding crop deliver pain to the naked body before her. There was something 
terribly exciting to know that the girl giving oral service to you was 
receiving pain as her reward. 

It would have been easy to give in and let an orgasm come. But Michelle held 
back, forcing herself to concentrate on the red marks appearing on Rebecca's 
flanks and even on the sides of her breasts. The longer she held off that 
climax, the longer this wonderful scene would last. And it was wonderful for 
Michelle. She saw the helplessness and pain of this slavegirl and felt the 
soft tongue against her flesh, and knew that she wanted this to last 
forever. 

But all good things come to an end. Marla brought the crop up squarely on 
the hanging breasts several times, evoking muffled shrieks of pain and 
jerkings of the captive body, and that was all Michelle could take. With a 
cry, she grabbed the back of Rebecca's head and shoved it hard against her 
sex. Her whole body shuddered and went rigid. When she came back to earth, 
the riding crop was no longer being used on the hanging girl, but she was 
still hanging before Michelle. 

Michelle pushed herself up and straightened her skirt. For a while she stood 
there, fascinated with the way the ropes dug into Rebecca's flesh, with the 
limp and useless fingers high on her back. The arch of the girl's body was 
fascinating to observe, so much did it speak of her suffering. Finally she 
turned to Marla to ask, "Does she just stay hanging there? She did a good 
job on me, perhaps she deserves a reward?" 

"Slavegirls are not rewarded for doing what they must," was Mistress Marla's 
reply. "As to how long she'll hang there..." Marla smiled. "As long as I 
wish it, of course." 

"Of course," replied Michelle. It made sense in this world. Rebecca was, 
after all, only a slavegirl. 

For a minute both girls watched Rebecca sway gently in mid-air, her head 
held down with the beautiful red hair almost touching the floor. The spell 
was finally broken when Henry coughed softly. Marla turned to receive his 
report, "Six, Madam.' "Good. Let's release her from the shaft and see what 
she has to say." 

They made their way to where Sandy was impaled by the mechanical shaft. The 
shaft was still doing its thing but the girl looked as if she were 
exhausted. Michelle was glad for the rope pulling her friends elbows upward, 
it kept her from falling. Henry unfastened that rope after using the button 
controls to stopping the shaft and make it withdraw from the girl's sheath. 
It came out with a wet popping sound that was quickly followed by a small 
moan from Sandy. Her ankles were untied from the rings holding them spread 
and she was allowed to settle to the floor. 

Using a small screwdriver, Henry removed the metal clamps, leaving Sandy's 
nipples swollen and enlarged. The naked girl shuttered and gasped at the 
pain of returning circulation. When Henry finished removing the ropes from 
her arms, they lay limp and lifeless by her side. Deep were the reddish rope 
marks, and painful the tingling reawakening of those limbs. 

As soon as she could move her arms, Sandy crawled over to Marla's feet and 
took one high heel in both her hands. She knelt to kiss the shinny patent 
leather surface. "Oh, Mistress Marla! That was so wonderful! I was so 
helpless and so excited! It was wonderful." 

"Henry, get some cuffs on this girl before she slobbers all over my shoes." 

Henry hurried to produce a pair of silvery handcuffs, and a couple seconds 
later Sandy's wrists were firmly locked behind her back. A second pair 
secured her ankles in a very short hobble. "The cage. Madam?" asked Henry. 
"Yes," Marla said. Henry picked up the naked girl and carried her out of the 
room. 

"We'll go see her in a moment," Marla said to Michelle. "Bui first maybe we 
should secure Rebecca in some fashion less likely to leave a permanent bend 
in her spine." 

The redhead was lowered to the floor and the rope removed from her ankles, 
leaving her to unfold slowly from the hogtie. Then her legs were untied. But 
her arms were left bound high on her back, between her shoulder blades. 

"Slave!" snapped Mistress Marla. 

"Yes, Mistress?" replied Rebecca from her kneeling position on the floor. 

"Get up and fetch the discipline hood. And one of the ball gags." "Yes, 
Mistress." 

The naked girl fled from the room on legs still shaky from her long period 
in the hogtie and that suspension. Michelle was surprised that she could 
walk at all. 

Marla began walking slowly towards the door with Michelle following. A short 
time later Rebecca returned with the requested items. Both the hood, a 
leather bag that filled over the head, and the ball gag were held in her 
mouth. Michelle could understand why since the poor girl's fingers were up 
by her shoulders and looked pretty lifeless anyway. But how the bound and 
naked girl had managed to get both the objects into her mouth was a puzzle 
to Michelle. She could only guess that Rebecca had plenty of practice at 
such things. 

Marla took the objects and set them down on the cross piece of the stocks. 
"Turn around," she ordered Rebecca and the slavegirl obeyed. The rubber ball 
was fitted into her mouth, shoved in would be a better description, and then 
buckled tightly in place. Michelle noted that the ball was just the right 
size to fit behind the teeth and fill the mouth. She and Sandy had found 
that too big a ball only wedged against the teeth. It held the mouth open 
but half or more of the ball was outside the mouth. That meant the tongue 
could push against it. And it wasn't as effective as a ball that went behind 
the teeth and filled the mouth, pushing the tongue down. That really 
prevented speech and muffled any sound from the mouth. 

The gag in place, Marla turned her attention to the discipline hood. It was, 
basically, a form-fitting leather bag, slit up the back, that covered the 
entire head from neck up. There were laces in back from near the top of the 
head down to the neck that allowed Mistress Marla to tighten the hood until 
it was smooth and firm all over the head. She knotted the laces tightly 
behind the girl's neck, then closed the thicker leather strap around the 
neck over the laces. A small padlock secured that leather strap. Michelle 
was sure that even if this girl had her hands free, she would be unable to 
removed the discipline hood. Rebecca was now silent, blind and had no hands 
to speak of. The tiniest hole below her nose allowed air in. 

"Mistress Marla, Rebecca gave me quite a nice orgasm with her tongue. Is 
there anyway we could perhaps... return the favor?" 

Marla lifted on eyebrow. Michelle expected some comment about slavegirls not 
being allowed orgasms but that was not what came. "Perhaps. But it might not 
be the way you're thinking." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You'll see." Marla took Rebecca bare shoulder and led blind girl to the 
horizontal beam that was about mid-thigh on her. She tapped the inside of 
Rebecca's thighs and the slavegirl obediently spread her legs, wider and 
wider until she could barely hold her balance. Marla then tied a rope to 
each ankle and a ring set in the floor, obviously for such a purpose. The 
wooden beam now came to the slavegirl's hips. There were two small metal 
rings sown into the discipline hood, one at the neck in front and one at the 
top of the head. Marla tied a piece of rope to the one at the front of her 
neck collar then ran than down through a ring in the floor before the 
helpless girl. When she pulled on that, the naked slave had to bend forward. 
Soon her head was below her hips and she was laying across the wooden beam, 
her ass sticking up in the air. 

"You will note that this positions her bottom perfectly for whipping?" 

"Yes. But I thought..." 

"That we were going to give her a climax? Out of gratitude to her having 
given you one? Well, she'll get a climax but it will be from being whipped, 
not from being pleasured by another girl." 

"Whipped? How can that be? I mean, a whipping while you're helpless can be 
exciting, but... Will she climax just from that?" 

"Watch." Mistress Marla took her riding crop and positioned herself to one 
side of the upturned and vulnerable bottom. Michelle could see the poor 
girl's pussy peeking out behind. 

Certainly is a good position to whip a girl, she thought. 

The first slash deposited a red mark on the left cheek. There was a jerk of 
the slave's leg muscles and a muffled cry of pain, but so well secured was 
the naked girl that she couldn't move. The second cut landed on the other 
cheek. A second muffled cry greeted it. Marla looked at Michelle and smiled. 

The whipping continued slowly and steadily. The riding crop gave way to a 
short whip with three leather thongs that snapped against the captive skin 
delightfully. After fifteen strokes Michelle stopped counting. She could see 
that, although causing considerable pain, the slashing of these whips did 
not cut the skin. There were areas that were turning a dark purple against 
the general redness of the whole bottom. 

"How many?" asked Michelle. 

"How many until she reaches climax? Depends. Tonight, I think soon." Marla 
seemed amused by Michelle's concern for this slavegirl's sexual 
satisfaction. She went back to the wall and replaced the three-thonged whip 
with a leather strap. The leather was moderately stiff and about two inches 
wide. When Marla delivered the first stroke squarely across both cheeks, the 
cry that echoed from the walls was the loudest they had yet heard. Quickly 
the mistress slashed the bruised ass with three more cuts and three more 
cries of distress. Then she backed off and stood watching. 

Rebecca, for all her restrictions, was fighting the bondage that held her. 
Her body strained to lift up. Her legs muscles jerked, and her fingers 
fluttered helplessly. She shook her head and shoulders from side to side 
wildly as if trying to evade the pain. 

"Now," said Marla softly as she approached the bend over girl. The arm went 
up and then down, cracking the leather strap across tender and sore flesh. 
As the captive girl's body went rigid from the pain, Marla reversed the whip 
in her hand and shoved the handle up into her slavegirl's vagina. A dozen 
hard, quick strokes and the job was done. Rebecca was trembling all over, 
her hips straining hard against the wood, and a long, loud moan of 
unmistakable pleasure filled the room. 

Marla dropped the whip to the floor and stepped back. 

"See," she told Michelle. "She has her orgasm. Happy?" 

Michelle only nodded. This was, indeed, not the manner she had envisioned 
for this slavegirl's orgasm. But she could not deny that this bound up girl 
was experiencing an orgasm, an intense one from all appearances. 

"Good. I wouldn't want to disappoint a guest." Marla was the smiling hostess 
again. Let's have a drink then you can visit Sandy again." 

Michelle followed Marla out of the dungeon, looking back from the door to 
stare in disbelief at the braised and battered flesh of the trembling girl 
still bound over the beam. Marla turned off the lights and they left the 
slavegirl alone. 

Again Michelle, who usually only sipped a little wine, took a snifter of 
brandy and drank deeply, allowing the fiery liquor to shock her. The scene 
she had just witnessed was a little intense for her usual taste. But it was 
merely, she told herself, an extension of the games she and Sandy played. 
Merely the same kind of games carried a little farther. 

"Her bottom," commented Marla, "is not damaged. It is sore and will pain her 
whenever she sits down for a while. But in a few days that pain will go 
away, and after a couple weeks there will be not a sign it ever happened. I 
will probably not whip her during that time. I prefer an unmarked bottom for 
my whip." 

"We've never whipped each other that hard," was all Michelle could say. 
"Never." 

"Of course. As I said, you're only beginning down a long, long path." Marla 
sipped at her drink. "Would you like to see Sandy?" 

"Yes." 

As they walked back to the dungeon area, Marla explained, "Sometimes I wish 
to punish a slavegirl but want something that lasts longer than a whipping, 
and is more... shall we say, mental? For that I have what I call a 
'punishment cage.' A girl being so punished will stay in it for a day. Or 
two. In the worse cases, perhaps three days. Believe me, that gets to the 
most rebellious slavegirl." 

They entered a door and found Henry standing just inside. 

But what drew Michelle's attention was in the center of the room. The cage 
was made of shinning steel bars totally. The bottom, sides and top were all 
bars about one inch thick with two or three inches spacing between them. The 
bars were welded to each other where they met. The top was obviously the lid 
as it was hinged and had a hasp that could be padlocked. There was a metal 
ring encircling the center bar of the lid and that was attached to a chain 
going up to a hoist on the ceiling. The whole cage was suspended four feet 
off the floor by that chain. 

But what was the most exciting was the size of the cage. It held Sandy and 
there seemed little space left over. The unfortunate girl had to lay on her 
side with her legs bent. Her hands were still cuffed behind her back as were 
her ankles. The small size of the cage prevented her from unfolding her legs 
or anything else. She would lay there until freed from the metal prison, and 
could only shift a little this way or that. 

"Hi, Michelle! Isn't this just the cutest thing! If we had one of these in 
our bedroom, I could keep you a prisoner hovering over the bed all night 
long. Wouldn't that be wild!?" 

"Yes, Sandy, it would be wild. Are you okay?" 

"Yes, I'm fine. It's not comfortable but that's okay. You ought to try it." 

"Sure." Michelle walked around the cage holding her friend, viewing it from 
all sides. Then she turned to Marla. "You keep girls in this cage for days 
on end?" 

"Sure. It's not hard to slip them some food between the bars. And as to... 
Ah, necessities, you will note the drain in the floor? And the way the room 
is tiled, yes? Henry, demonstrate how we keep the girls clean." 

Michelle didn't notice the hose until Henry picked it up and turned it on. 
The stream of water was hard and cold. Henry sprayed the caged girl down, 
walking from side to side to assure all parts of her were flushed. 

"Hey! No! That's cold! Pleaseeee....!" cried out Sandy. 

When it was done, Sandy was a sad-looking, very wet nudity. Her blonde hair 
hung through the cage bars, dripping water down. 

"See, no mess," said Marla reasonably. 

"Not too easy on the slavegirl, though," replied Michelle. 

'Tut! The comfort of a slavegirl is not important." 

Michelle bit back a retort, partly because she did not want to offend their 
hostess, partly because there was something attractive about this attitude 
expressed here. Michelle was beginning to understand that there were, 
indeed, different ways to play the type of games she and Sandy that thought 
they invented themselves. 

"Would you care to try the cage, yourself?" asked Marla in the same tone of 
voice as someone asking if you would like another cookie. 

Again that stab of desire lanced through her but was beaten back. Michelle 
would like to try that cage but instead she muttered a quiet, "Some other 
time." 

"Indeed," was all that Marla said. She turned to Henry and gave some orders 
in a quiet voice that Michelle could not hear. Henry nodded. Then Marla left 
the caged and wet girl, and Michelle followed. 

"It has come time for me to enjoy myself," offered Marla. "Your Sandy has 
had her orgasms. Six, in fact, more than most girls have in one evening. You 
have been brought to climax by my slave's tongue. And that slave has had her 
orgasm, kissed by the tender touch of the whip, as it were." 

Michelle said nothing but wondered if she was expected to take some part in 
the "enjoyment" of Mistress Marla. 

"I will have your Sandy brought to one of the bedrooms. She will be bound 
and she will service me." 

"And I am to watch?" asked Michelle. 

"Of course. You may watch if you wish. But there is one thing that I 
require. If you wish to remain in the bedroom, you will have to wear a pair 
of handcuffs. They can be on in front of you, but they will be real and 
locked. Mostly symbolic, I suppose, but something that I will insist on." 

As they walked, Michelle did some quick thinking. Being bound up was 
something she had promised not to do tonight. But having her hands cuffed in 
front of her was not much in the way of bondage. Besides, she told herself, 
if Marla wanted to pull anything against her will, she could simply order 
Henry to make her a prisoner. Against his strength, she would have been 
helpless. "Okay," she said. 

Marla smiled. The bedroom was almost as large as the entire apartment the 
girls shared. It was done in shades of charcoal gray and red, giving a 
strange look. There was one huge bed covered in red satin bedspread, and the 
floor was of the thickest, softest material Michelle had ever seen. It 
seemed more like fur than carpet. If there were windows, they were hidden 
behind closed drapes. Marla went about the room, lighting several large 
candles. Then she turned off the overhead light. The room took on a warm and 
sensual glow. Strange, but not at all unattractive. It was the sexual 
playroom straight out of a wild fantasy. 

Marla unzipped the front of her leather body suit, revealing most of her 
breasts but leaving the nipples just hiding behind the black leather edge. 
Going to a dresser, she tossed her riding crop into a drawer and removed a 
pair of handcuffs. She returned to Michelle and stood there expectantly. 

Michelle looked at the shinning steel bracelets with longing and perhaps a 
little fear. But she held out her hands. The metal circlets clicked shut and 
her wrists were joined in tight steel and only a couple inches apart. 

"Sit over there. Watch but don't say a thing." Marla pointed to a chair in 
the far corner. Then she turned her back on Michelle, obviously expecting 
the girl to obey. 

Michelle went to the chair and sat down. It was comfortable and easy to rest 
back in. Marla put one foot on the edge of her dresser and was unlacing her 
boot. When it came off, Michelle could see that it was calf high and have 
very high heels. Under the boot, Marla wore nylons. 

The mistress of this house continued to disrobe as is she were alone, 
ignoring her handcuffed guest. The leather suit was peeled off and hung up. 
Revealed was a fine body now clothed only in a garter belt and nylons, which 
were also removed. Then Marla donned a very sheer black nightie, one that 
framed her lovely body and made her look more naked than she had when she 
was totally naked. 

Marla lay on the bed, the perfect vision of a woman relaxing in her bedroom. 
Then they waited. But not long. There was a polite knock on the door then it 
opened. Henry entered, leading Sandy on a leash. Michelle sat up straighter. 
Her friend had been dried off, even her lovely long blonde hair. She was 
still completely naked, and her arms had been tied behind her back in a 
manner identical to the way Michelle had bound her in their apartment so 
very long ago. The elbows were tight together, throwing the nude girl's 
breasts out. Her legs were free but Michelle noted that there was some rope 
tied tightly around her waist and then between her legs. She could barely 
make out something of flesh-colored plastic under the ropes and guessed that 
a dildo was being held inside Sandy's pussy by those tight crotch ropes. A 
glint of metal in the candle light showed Michelle that the small metal 
clamps had been replaced on Sandy's nipples. 

But the most impressive addition was the gag that Sandy wore. It was a 
harness of thin straps around her head to hold whatever was in her mouth in 
place. But attached to the front was an artificial penis sticking straight 
forward. Michelle guessed that the same kind of plastic penis was on the 
other side, filling her friend's mouth. She had heard of a penis gag but 
never seen one. The penis sticking out from this one was huge, at least 
eight inches if one. Michelle might have found the sight of her friend 
sprouting a penis from her mouth humorous had it not been so very erotic. 

Sandy was escorted to the foot of the bed where she knelt down on the carpet 
without being told to. Henry had probably given her orders before they 
entered the room. He unhooked the leash from her gag and left the room. 

For a while the three people in the room were frozen as each took in the 
scene. Sandy was breathing hard, obviously in some stage of sexual 
excitement. And Michelle could easily understand that. In addition to being 
a very sexual girl, Sandy now had a penis filling her pussy and another 
filling her mouth. She was probably very happy. 

Marla's eyes were bright in the candle light as she slid forward. She sat on 
the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, allowing the front of the 
nightie to open fully. From her corner position, Michelle could see that 
Sandy's eyes were sparkling, too. 

It was a strange and wonderful scene in the flickering candle light. A bound 
and helpless slavegirl was about to service her mistress in a degrading yet 
erotic and wonderful way. All three people present were intensely into this 
game, living it without having to think, enjoying it immensely. 

Mistress Marla's hand grabbed one of Sandy's breasts and squeezed. There was 
a gasp from the slavegirl and Michelle could see the fingernails digging 
into the soft flesh. Then the other hand grabbed the other breasts and both 
were being roughly kneaded. Sandy emitted little cries of pain and pleasure. 

For a while the rough handling of Sandy's big breasts continued, both girls 
at the end of the bed growing more excited as it did. Then Marla stood up. 
With strong hands in the captive girl's hair, she turned the slave slightly 
so her back was to the observer in the corner. Then she ordered Sandy to bow 
her head down until the top of her head was against the carpet. That 
position was possible only by Sandy putting her weight on her head. From her 
position, Michelle could see Sandy's face between her legs and that 
ridiculous penis sticking straight at her. 

It was expected by all present - suddenly the riding crop was in Marla's 
hand. A second later it was slashing across the upturned bottom, leaving 
mark after mark on the soft and virgin flesh. Sandy cried out through her 
nose but did her best to hold her pose. Again and again the leather 
instrument of pain cut and marked the lovely bottom until it was red with 
dark splotches. 

With a cry, Marla dropped the riding crop and pulled Sandy's head up until 
the girl was kneeling again. Then Marla knelt herself in front of Sandy and 
pressed her body against hers. Michelle could see both of Marla's hands come 
around and clamp themselves onto the sore and tender ass cheeks. The 
fingernails dug in, and Michelle winched at how that must hurt. Without 
noticing, her handcuffed hands found their way down between her legs. The 
dress rode up as Michelle leaned back into the chair and her fingers sought 
her private place. 

For a while Marla was content to grind her body against Sandy's and dig her 
fingers into the freshly battered flesh of her ass. There was pain from the 
nipple clamps where four breasts mashed together to match the pain from 
Sandy's burning bottom. 

Then, suddenly, Marla was back against the end of the bed, her bottom on the 
red satin and her legs spread wide. She rested back on her elbows with her 
hands on her hips. Sandy needed no orders. She crawled forward until her 
penis gag was just touching the pubic mound of the mistress. One of Marla's 
hands came down to open her lips and guide the head of the huge dildo into 
her tunnel. After that Sandy took over, working her head back and forth, 
making the shaft plunge deep into this woman and back out again, so much 
like a man yet not quite the same. Sandy moved her head up and down to make 
the penis move inside Marla's vagina. She turned her head to make it rotate. 
And she shoved her head back and forth with a wild abandon. 

It was not long before Marla cried aloud and arched her body upwards. She 
trembled as she climaxed intensely. Sandy kept up her motions, even faster 
than before. Marla cried out again and suddenly clamped both hands behind 
Sandy's head. She held the captive head hard against her pussy, driving the 
artificial penis deep inside her, as she shuddered with pleasure. 

Michelle found herself sighing as her fingers toyed with her own sex. Just 
as Marla pushed away the bound slavegirl and felt back on the bed, 
Michelle's fingers brought her to a climax of her own. 

Only the bound and naked slavegirl was denied her own satisfaction but that 
didn't last long. While both of the other girls present were busy with their 
own feelings, Sandy crawled over to the bed and threw on leg over the comer. 
With her body half on the bed and her legs straddling the satin covers, she 
pushed her pussy against the bed. The action made the dildo inside her, 
which had originally been put there only to assure that the slavegirl was in 
a proper state of sexual excitement to service Mistress Marla, press harder 
inside her. Soon her hips were pumping against the bed, battering her pussy 
against the satin covers. Not long after that Sandy was rolling on the 
floor, encased in her own intense ecstasy. 

Within the candle-lit, sensual bedroom three women trembled and sighed with 
ecstasy. 

Michelle yawned and sat up in bed. It was late for her to be getting up, 
even on a Saturday morning but the sun coming in the window had felt so warm 
and good that she stayed under the covers and enjoyed a period of time when 
nothing had to be done. Her thoughts, naturally enough, drifted to matters 
involving ropes and pretty, naked girls. 

It had been one week that day since she and Sandy had visited Mistress Marla 
for one fantastic night in her dungeon. And in that red-walled, candle-lit 
bedroom. It had been a very interesting experience, Michelle told herself, 
with her usual tendency to understatement. That had been one wild night, 
Sandy had put it. 

Both girls had admitted that it was enjoyable, and Sandy had suffered little 
in the way of after affects. She definitely was ready for another fun-filled 
night at Mistress Marla's. Michelle was not so sure. There was something 
more there than just some fun and games. There was something almost sinister 
about Marla. Not that she seemed to be evil, rather that she seemed to much 
more in control that Michelle felt comfortable with. The dark haired 
mistress seemed to exude confidence with her statements that she would one 
day own both of them as her slaves. 

It had been near morning when the games finally came to an ending. Michelle 
woke to find that she was still sitting in the chair, her wrists still 
handcuffed before her and her dress still pulled up around her waist. She 
pulled it down and walked to the bed. Sandy lay there asleep, a picture of 
innocent and sexuality. Her young features were softened by sleep and the 
aftermath of sexual saturation. But her beautiful body was still bound, 
tight cords indenting the flesh of her arms, especially at the elbows. Those 
metal clamps still encircled her nipples. 

Michelle looked closely in the flickering candle-light and could see the 
end's of Sandy's nipples protruding through the hold in the steel circle. 
They looked swollen. 

But what delivered a pang of jealousy was the face that Sandy lay asleep in 
the arms of Mistress Marla. Together they lay, Marla's arms around the 
blonde in a possessive manner that Michelle knew too well. Don't be silly, 
she told herself, Sandy's just your friend. You don't own her. But still she 
felt uneasy to see her friend cuddled in the arms of another woman. 

Michelle had tried to be quite but perhaps the handcuffs clinked ever so 
slightly. Marla's eyes opened slowly. For a while the two girls looked at 
each other in the dim yellow light. Neither said a word but each was well 
aware that it was Mistress Marla who held the naked and bound form of Sandy. 

After a minute, Marla rose, dressed, this time in a silky nightgown, and 
called for Henry. When the big black man arrived after only a few seconds, 
he was ordered to prepare Sandy for her ride home. He picked up the still 
sleeping girl and carried her from the room. 

Marla produced the tiny handcuff key and freed Michelle's wrists. 

"I hope you enjoyed your visit," she said. "I did." 

"Yes, I enjoyed it." Michelle paused as she handed the cuffs back. "As you 
say, we're only beginning on a long path. You've traveled it for some time." 

"I am still a traveler. There is always more to see and do and feel." 

"I'm sure." 

Marla led Michelle to the front door where Henry was waiting with Sandy. The 
blonde girl was as she had been when delivered: naked, arms bound behind her 
back with elbows tightly corded together, ankles bound together. The metal 
clamps were off her nipples and Michelle noted how much they were swollen 
and rigid. Sandy leaned against the man and only slightly opened her eyes at 
the entrance of the other two woman. 

"Next Saturday night," Marla said as she handed Michelle the coat Sandy had 
been wearing. "Eight o'clock." 

The invitation had been put in its simplest terms yet seemed more like an 
order. This dominant woman seemed to never doubt that both of them would 
again show up on her doorstep. 

"And is one of us to be bound up?" asked Michelle, a little miffed at the 
arrogance shown them. 

"It would be nice," Marla replied, eyes roving down then up Michelle's very 
fine figure. "Very nice." 

Michelle didn't reply. She was torn between the desire to do just that, to 
be this woman's slavegirl for the night, and the desire to be independent. 
She simply put the coat over Sandy's shoulders and buttoned it up. 

"Thanks for a lovely evening," said Sandy sleepily as those who could walked 
to the car and the one couldn't was carried in strong male arms. 

"Yes, thank you," Michelle said. "It was interesting." 

"Until next time." 

Then Marla was gone, leaving the two girls and Henry to stand in the cool 
dim dawn light. Michelle pulled the seat belt over Sandy and jerked it 
tightly. Then she went around to the driver's side and drove them away from 
that strange yet intriguing woman. 

Michelle finished remembering that night a week before. Tonight the 
invitation to Marla's was again open. And yet, even after thinking about it 
all week and talking with Sandy, Michelle was unsure of what she wanted to 
do. Sandy seemed to take it for granted that they would go, and showed 
little care about whether it was she or Michelle who went all naked and 
bound up. 

She didn't feel as if there was any physical danger. Mistress Marla might be 
a sadist but she was a woman of her word. They would both walk out the next 
morning as free women. But it was a little frightening to become the captive 
of a woman who so exuded control, power and assurance in all she did. 
Michelle had finally come to the conclusion that what she feared most was 
loosing Sandy to this strange woman. 

There was no question that Sandy had been greatly impressed with her night 
in Marla's castle. That was what they came to call the large house in the 
foothills. And it seemed appropriate, for didn't all castles have a dungeon? 
But castle or no, the blonde with the great love of things sexual and of 
being a captive had been greatly impressed with dark haired dominant. 
Michelle dismissed her uneasy feelings as jealousy, and told herself that 
she wished only happiness for Sandy. If Sandy was happy being a weekend 
slavegirl of this Mistress Marla, then what was wrong with that? 

Michelle sat up in bed and stretched like a contented cat. Can't stay in bed 
all day, she told herself. Besides there's a little task to attend to. 

Sandy was exactly as Michelle had left her the night before, to the surprise 
of neither of them. When Michelle ties up a girl, she stays tied. In this 
case, Sandy was laying in the middle of the front room floor, in a hogtie, 
admittedly not an extremely tight one, but a very secure one nevertheless. 
Her wrists were crossed behind her, her ankles crossed and both tied that 
way. There was a linkage rope between the wrists and hands tight enough to 
keep her legs from unfolding. The beautiful blonde was naked, as usual for 
their games, and wore no gag this time. Normally, when tied like that Sandy 
would have been able to roll around, even crawl from room to room, in an 
awkward, tiring fashion. But Michelle had fixed her so that she would remain 
exactly in the same spot all night. The girls had screwed metal rings into 
the floor in the center of each wall of the front room. Michelle had tied 
one end of a long rope to one ring, ran the rope over to Sandy's waist and 
looped it around there a couple times, fairly tightly, tied a knot, then 
passed the rope over to the opposite wall. When the rope was tied snugly, 
the naked girl was trapped in the middle of the floor. She couldn't roll 
over nor crawl anywhere. 

"Hi, Michelle. Had a lovely night, how about you?" asked Sandy brightly from 
her position on the floor. 

"I slept fine. Probably more comfortably than you." 

"Well..." said Sandy with a smile, "I won't argue that point. But I had such 
wonderful dreams. I dreamed that I was hogtied all night and every time I 
woke up, I was!" 

Michelle had to smile back at her friend. Sandy's love of bondage and most 
any kind of sexual act was incredible. "I'll fix breakfast. You want to be 
untied how or later?" 

Sandy frowned as if in deep thought before coming up with, "Never. I never 
want to be untied." 

"You're a silly girl. But I'll leave you tied a while longer." As Michelle 
fixed breakfast, watching out of the corner of her eye as Sandy struggled 
and rocked back and forth in the ropes, she began to think again about the 
coming evening. And she was still unsure about what to do. 

When Sandy was finally untied, she insisted on being handcuffed, even in 
only in front, while they had breakfast. Between bites, Michelle brought up 
something that had been on her mind. "Sandy, do you think that lately it's 
been you who is tied up much more than me?" 

"I guess so. But I don't mind it, if you don't. You seem to like to tie me 
up," she teased. 

"Yes, I do. But I also like to be tied up. And I haven't been getting much 
of that lately." Michelle paused, then continued. "Maybe you could get back 
at me for leaving you hogtied all night with an extra tight hogtie this 
afternoon. Say four hours...?" 

Sandy brightened up. "We could let you be the one who is tied up tonight at 
Mistress Marla's!" "I don't know." 

"Oh, come on. It will be fun. Believe me, it will be fun. She's so good with 
the ropes. And that Henry is a real hunk, isn't he?" 

"I don't know. She gets a little heavy into the S&M. Did you see the 
whipping she gave Rebecca?" 

"Oh, did I ever! That lucky girl came and came just from being whipped. And 
when Marla shoved that whip handle up her! Oh, I thought I was going to 
climax again right then." 

"I'm not sure I would like to be whipped, to a climax or otherwise." 

"I whipped you about three weeks ago. Remember? With that belt. And pretty 
hard, too." 

"I remember." And she did. It had been exciting. The leather belt smacking 
into the soft flesh of her bottom had made her feel so very helpless. And 
excited. It had been good. 

"And, besides, I'll stay untied to make sure you're okay. Please...?" 

Michelle sighed. She really loved her friend and it was hard to say no. So 
she didn't. "Okay, I'll go tied up. At least I'll get to be tied for a 
while." 

"Oh, goodie!" 

The drive was the same, house was the same, but the girl driving and the 
girl sitting in the right hand seat, a coat covering her nudity and tightly 
bound arms, was different. Michelle shifted her bottom to try and find a 
little more comfortable position but none was to be found. Her arms were 
bound behind her with the elbows tightly corded together and it was hard to 
rest against the seat with their bulk behind her. Sandy, with her usual 
pixie sense of humor, had not depended upon the seat belt to hold Michelle 
to the seat, but had wrapped rope around her waist and the back of the seat, 
holding Michelle quite firmly to the car. Her ankles had also been tied, and 
Sandy had pulled up the coat until all of Michelle's lovely legs were 
exposed. 

But the worst part of the drive was not the discomfort from tight ropes, not 
apprehension of the coming evening of torture, but the constant fear that 
Sandy's none-to-perfect driving would result with a policeman stopping them. 
It would be a little hard to hide her bound legs or the rope around her 
waist, even if her bound arms and nudity didn't show. 

But they were lucky this time, no policeman pulled them over. Henry was 
waiting at the front door. "Mistress Marla said to escort you two to the 
dungeon," he said formally. "She will be awaiting you there." 

Sandy pointed back to the car and giggled. "Think you can carry Michelle? 
She can't quite make it by herself." 

"Of course, Ma'am." With that he untied the ropes around Michelle's waist 
and easily lifted the bound girl from the car. 

The dungeon looked about the same as it had before, filled with ropes and 
whips and instruments of torture. Mistress Marla was, indeed, waiting for 
them, dressed in a lovely black leather skirt that showed off most of her 
long legs. She wore high heels that made her nyloned legs lovely, but that 
was all. She was topless and didn't seem to even notice that she was 
exposing her breasts to two girls she really didn't know too well, as well 
as her male servant. Henry, apparently used to such activities, simply 
deposited Michelle before Marla without a word or the slightest hint he 
found anything out of the ordinary. 

Michelle teetered on her bound ankles and high heels and noticed that Marla 
was standing next to the phallic shaft that Sandy had ridden to glory the 
week before. A thrill raced through the roped girl at the thought of her 
riding that shaft tonight. 

"Welcome, girls. I'm so glad you decided to come again." Marla smiled 
sincerely. "We'll have such fun tonight." 

"I'm sure we will," agreed Sandy. Michelle kept quiet. Bui inwardly she 
agreed. 

"Shall we get started?" Marla took a step to Michelle and unbuttoned her 
coat. Casually tossing the coat onto a pillory, she walked around her victim 
for that night, smiling approval at the soft curves, full breasts and 
shapely legs. She tested the tight cords around the wrists and elbows with 
one hand, finding no fault with them. 

"Henry, the clamps," Mistress Marla said quietly. 

Michelle felt a shiver at those words. This was it, the beginning, the point 
of no return. From this point on she would be the prisoner of this woman, to 
be played with, teased, forced to perform all kinds of sexual acts, and even 
tortured. She swallowed hard and forced herself to say nothing as Henry 
presented the small circular clamps to his mistress. Marla needed only to 
flick each nipples a bit to assure they were rigid and ready for their 
clamps. They were already erect in anticipation and fear. 

First her left nipple was encircled by the metal clamp, it's hardness 
slightly cold against her flesh. Marla tightened down the tiny screw and 
Michelle felt very tiny teeth bite her flesh. It wasn't too painful at 
first, more a minor sting. But the screwdriver turned slowly and she felt 
the sharp bits of metal dig in. At the same time the clamp exerted a 
pressure all around the base of her nipple, a tightness that increased with 
each turn of the screwdriver. 

"That's pretty tight," she found herself saying as the pain reached the 
point where she sincerely begin to regret allowing herself to become the 
victim. "That hurts." 

Marla ignored her. The clamp tightened again and Michelle gave out a yelp of 
pain. "That really hurts!" she exclaimed. Again she was ignored. Again the 
tiny screw was turned half a turn and the pain became much worse. Michelle 
felt as if tiny teeth were trying to bite off her nipple. And it was 
squeezed in the metal jaws much like the strongest clothespins she and Sandy 
had ever tried on each other. Michelle looked down and was surprised to see 
the end of her captured nipples blossoming out of the clamp. It looked 
swollen and taunt. She understood why Sandy had been blowing on those 
clamps, they burned her flesh. 

Marla turned her attention to the other nipple, one quite erect and ready 
for its collar of pain. When this new clamp was about the same tightness, 
Marla returned her attention to the first one and tightened it down another 
turn. 

"Hey! Stop that! That really hurts. Please turn it back!" Michelle was 
biting back harsher words for the pain shooting into her breasts from those 
tortured nipples was very real and more than she had expected. 

Marla ignored the words and tightened the right clamp until both were 
hurting about equally. Then she nodded to Henry and stood back. The big 
black man picked up Michelle and carried her a short distance to one of the 
wooden posts near one wall of the dungeon. He set her down a couple of feet 
from the post. Michelle stood with uncertain balance on bound ankles and 
blew on her nipples. That small wind did nothing to stop the burning pain. 
Henry returned with rope in his hands. He tied one end of a rope to the 
wrist ropes and bent Michelle at the waist. Down and down her head went 
until she was looking at her knees and afraid she would fall over. And she 
might of had it not been for Henry's hands upon her body. He picked her up 
and moved her forward until she could feel the wood pressing against her 
back. Then the ropes were being wrapped around her wrists and the post and 
Michelle gulped. 

When the ropes lashing her wrists to the post were knotted and done with, 
more rope was wrapped around her elbows and the post, locking her arms 
firmly to the post. It was very awkward with her head straight down but she 
knew she wouldn't be falling over. Her arms were too solidly welded to the 
wooden post to allow that. This was a most unusual position to be tied in 
and Michelle was both a little fascinated by it and a little afraid. She 
quickly found that she could only bend her knees a little bit, wiggle her 
bottom, and was otherwise robbed of movement. 

In an upside down view of the dungeon, Michelle could see Mistress Marla 
approaching, a riding crop being tapped against the palm of one hand and a 
smile on her face. Behind her Sandy was following with interest on her face. 
Behind them both, she could see the mechanical dildo shaft she had been 
hoping to be riding now by now. 

"Slavegirls, Sandy," Marla said conversationally, "have to be made to know 
who is the boss and what their place is. This is important." 

"Yes, Mistress." 

"This slave," she said, indicating Michelle's upturned rump with a light tap 
of the whip, "needs to learn that lesson. She thinks she is not a 
slavegirl." 

Suddenly there was a burst of fire in Michelle's bottom and she cried out at 
the stinging pain. "Ohhh! That hurt! Stop that!" 

A second burst of pain greeted her protests, quickly followed by a third and 
fourth. In less than five seconds, Michelle's bottom had received two hard 
swats on each cheek, each leaving its red kiss on the tender flesh. 

"A slave girl has to not anticipate what her treatment will be," continued 
Mistress Marla. "Nor to hope for one favored punishment over another." The 
lecture was accented with two additional, harder swats. Michelle wiggled her 
bottom but could do nothing to remove it from the range of the riding crop. 
"I'm sure this slavegirl expected something quite different." 

Michelle ruefully and silently agreed. In thinking about what tonight would 
be like, there had been only visions of that pumping shaft sliding in and 
out of her vagina, giving her orgasm after orgasm that she could not stop. 
This was certainly something different. 

The whipping continued. It was worst than anything Sandy had ever given her, 
and probably worst than anything she had ever given Sandy. Yet it was not 
unbearable. The pain as very, very real and Michelle had to bite her lip to 
keep from crying out too loudly. But it was within her ability to stand. 

Two more strokes cut at her bottom. The naked and bent over girl held her 
tongue and promised that, no matter how severe the pain became, she would 
not plead for mercy. It was a matter of pride. Sandy could be expected to 
give in and let vent to her protests and pleas from the start. But she was 
not Sandy and she would show this beautiful mistress that she had pride. 

"This slavegirl wishes to hold her tongue," continued Marla's lecture, "and 
not cry out too loudly, nor beg for the whipping to stop. It would, of 
course, be easy to make her beg. I would only have to use a cruder whip with 
all the force of my arm, and she would see that this is merely child's play 
compared to the pain she could be given." 

"You won't hurt her, will you?" asked Sandy with some concern. But it was 
hard to tell just how concerned the blonde was, so obvious was her 
excitement. 

Marla gave Sandy a sharp look. "What is punishment if not pain? Of course, I 
will hurt this slavegirl. I already have. And she will experience much more 
before the night is over." 

"You're not going to whip her all night long, are you?" 

"Only as much as needed." 

"Only as much as needed? How much is that?" 

"Depends on her. Enough to make her see that she is a slavegirl. Perhaps if 
she were just to admit it..." Marla let the suggestion trail off. She was 
sure that Michelle had heard it. 

So this is what it is to be tonight, thought Michelle. A test of wills. She 
will push me until I give in and admit to being a slavegirl. And I, she 
admitted to herself, will push back by not giving in. Well, at least it's 
nice to know that I can end it anytime I wish simply by saying that I'm a 
slavegirl. Maybe a promise to serve my mistress would help, too. 

Suddenly another flash of pain told her that the whipping was continuing. 
She bit her lip and tried to pull her arms free from the ropes holding them 
over her head. But it was no use. Her arms were tightly held together by the 
original ropes she came with, and welded to the wood by those Henry had 
added. It was, indeed, a very awkward position. Her head was forced towards 
her knees by the way her shoulders were hard against the wood. She could see 
her knees flex with each blow. 

And she wondered just how long this could go on. She wasn't gagged, she 
could talk. But she had been whipped across the bottom half a dozen times 
already and she had been in this house of pain only ten minutes. It could 
well be a long, long night. 

The riding crop kissed the soft flesh on the back of her thighs just below 
her bottom cheeks and she gasped aloud. It was a different sort of pain from 
that on her bottom. A worse pain. Then the crop cut her other leg. A pause 
and then, from a new position to one side of the tied up girl, a new pain as 
the riding crop smacked into the side of her right breast. "Ohhhh! Noooo!" 
Michelle cried. Visions of her lovely breasts battered and black and blue 
flashed across her mind. And the very thought of such pain make her resolve 
waver. "Perhaps now she is getting some idea of what kind of pain can be 
given a slavegirl." Marla smiled at Sandy. "Henry, the next position." 

Henry move efficiently to untie Michelle's arms from the post. But the new 
position Marla ordered was certainly no better. She was placed on her back 
on the hard floor and her legs lifted up against the wood. The same ropes 
that had held her arms to the post now held her legs. From sore bottom to 
her heels, Michelle's legs were straight and fast against the wood. As she 
lay there on bound arms, she hoped that the discomfort of this bondage 
position would be the punishment, nothing else. She was aware of her breasts 
being easily accessible to the riding crop. 

But Marla's first target was different. "A slave can be whipped in many 
places," she told Sandy. "Including the bottom of her feet." 

Michelle had only half a second for that statement to sink in before the 
crop came down hard in the middle of one upturned foot. She immediately 
jerked her toes towards the post to protect the tender bottoms of her feet. 
And she cried out at the unexpected pain. 

Marla moved around to the other side and measured her crop against the other 
foot. Michelle curled her toes in an attempt to make the sole of her foot 
less of a target. Marla smiled and nodded to Henry. The servant casually 
took some thin cord from his pocket and loop it around her big toes. When 
that was cinched down there was a enough cord hanging down to reach the 
ropes lashing her knees to the post. It was passed around that rope and 
tightened. Despite her best efforts, Michelle's feet were uncurled and her 
toes pulled down. When Henry tied the knot, her feet were flat and perfect 
targets. 

Marla brought the crop down upon the right foot. Michelle screamed. It was a 
small scream but one that she could not hold back. That blow had been the 
crudest of them all, causing her more pain then she could ever want. Another 
followed almost immediately and she screamed again. Marla went around to the 
left side and struck that foot squarely on the sole. Michelle cried loudly, 
"Stop it! Oh, that hurts so much! Please....!" 

"Slaves will always exaggerate the pain," Marla said. "They must think that 
Mistresses are easily fooled." She accented her statement with another 
downward slash. Michelle threw her head back and whined. 

"If I were to give Henry the crop, he would undoubted do a better job of 
whipping the soles of her feet. He can, you know, hit much harder than I 
can." 

Michelle shook her body in anger at the rope holding her prisoner for this 
pain. She desperately hoped that Marla would not give the whip to that big 
man. This was painful but she knew it could get worse. 

"A slavegirl must know her place. Are you a slavegirl?" 

Marla asked sweetly, while teasing the bound toes with the end of the riding 
crop. 

Michelle held her silence. "As I expected. A girl like this will not give in 
so easily." Marla seemed unconcerned by her slavegirl's obstinateness. "Let 
us show her some more pain and then move on to another part of a slavegirl's 
training." Kneeling down beside the captive girl, Marla positioned her whip 
directly over one clamped nipple. "Oh, no!" cried Michelle. "That will hurt 
too much!" 

"Pain doesn't last," replied Marla. "But the memory of it does." And she 
brought the crop down hard squarely on the breast. 

Michelle was stunned silent for a moment, then she screamed. There was fire 
bursting in her breast and pain shooting straight into her body. More pain 
than she had ever known. It felt as it that end of her nipple had exploded 
where the crop had impacted. 

"She is in pain," said Marla, understating the obvious. "And she's beginning 
to see what can be done to a helpless slavegirl." 

"You won't hurt her too much?" asked Sandy, a little more sincerely 
concerned this time. 

"How much is too much? Remember Rebecca? Pain drove her to an orgasm." 

Sandy was silent, uncertain how to answer the puzzling question. 

Marla tapped the swollen nipple of the other breast and Michelle whined. She 
tried to turn her body aside to protect the intended target but was easily 
pushed back down by Marla. The crop teased the already pained nipple. Then 
it was brought slowly up until it posed ready for its pain- giving 
downswing. Michelle whined with fear. Then the crop moved suddenly and pain 
exploded in her breast. It was terrible and the naked girl screamed. 

"A crop across the breasts doesn't usually hurt a girl that much," Marla 
said. "But when the clamps are on her nipples, that magnifies the pain many 
times." She looked down at the whimpering and gasping girl. "See how 
beautiful she is when she's in pain?" 

For a while they all looked at the withering form on the floor. And none 
would deny that there was a strange beauty in her pained expression and the 
way she struggled. 

Finally, Marla spoke again. "She had felt pain delivered sharply and quick. 
Now let her experience another form of pain. Henry, the horse." 

Sandy looked puzzled and Michelle only grimaced. She didn't know what this 
"horse" was but she knew it would mean pain. And she was still trying to 
come to grips with the unexpected shock of what was her first real whipping. 
Henry untied the ropes holding her legs to the post and helped her to her 
feet. The soles of her feet were sore but not nearly as much as she had 
expected. She was able to stand on them. They hurt, but she could walk. The 
ropes on her arms were left in place, as were the metal clamps holding her 
nipples captive. 

The horse was simply two wooden boards placed edge to edge to form a wedge 
pointed upwards. Michelle looked at that wooden edge for a long time before 
it dawned on her how it could be used as a punishment device. When she did, 
she gasped. "No, you aren't going to put me on that thing!" she cried in 
genuine fear. 

"It's not really all that bad. At least not at first." Marla ran a finger 
lightly along the edge where the two wooden planks came together. They 
formed about a ninety degree angle but it looked terribly sharp to Michelle. 
"Henry, please lift her up." 

Henry's strong hands were suddenly on her waist and she felt herself being 
lifted into the air. As Marla took one leg and helped fit it over the edge. 
Michelle jerked her leg out of Marla's grasp. "No, I won't let you do it!" 
she exclaimed. 

"Remember the pain of the riding crop, dearie?" asked Marla casually. "I 
have other whips that will hurt much worse than a riding crop." 

The threat froze Michelle. She didn't now what to say or do. The threat of 
more pain was terrible. More terrible, it turned out, than her fear of being 
placed upon the horse. She allowed her leg to be lifted over the wooden 
edge. Henry slowly lowered her until she could feel the sharp wood pressing 
against her pussy. Marla busied herself with tying a loop of rope around 
each of the terrified girl's ankles. Those ropes went out to large rings in 
the side walls and forced Michelle's legs spread apart. Then Henry lowered 
her until her entire weight was upon her sex. 

"Oh! Please, no! That hurts. It's cutting into me!" Suddenly Michelle's 
protests stopped as she discovered that she could push down with her bound 
hands on the edge and ease some of the pain in her pussy. 

"Slave has discovered how to lift herself up," Marla said casually. "We must 
stop that. Henry." 

A rope was tied to those around her wrists and a few seconds later she felt 
her arms being pulled up behind her. When her palms left the wooden edge, 
her pussy settled down onto it. "Ohhhhhhh! That hurts!" Michelle cried out. 
Then she looked right into Marla's eyes and added, "Please, Mistress." 

"You're learning. But uttering one 'mistress' does not make a slavegirl 
make. You have a lesson to learn. A lesson in pain." 

Mistress Marla smiled as Henry tied off the rope. Michelle was bent forward 
and her hands about the level of her shoulders. The position would have been 
uncomfortable even without the edge cutting into her softest, most private 
place. 

"Now we let her enjoy the horse for a while," Marla said. "Would you like a 
drink, Sandy, dear?" 

"Okay!" Sandy never turned down a drink. Before following Marla and Henry 
out of the room, she went over to her friend and put one hand on an 
outstretched and strained thigh. "It's really not that bad, Michelle." 

"How the hell would you know? You're not up here. It hurts! I'm being cut in 
half!" 

"Mistress Marla says it's not really bad until you've been up there for a 
few hours," Sandy consoled. 

The thought of a few hours like that brought a moan to Michelle's lips. When 
she looked sideways, Sandy was gone and she was alone in that room of 
torture. 

Michelle called out but she just knew that the walls were soundproof and no 
one would hear her. She wiggled and tried to shift her hips, but could find 
no position that didn't hurt like blazes. The wood was a terrible, sharp 
pain that seemed to be cutting her right down the middle. She struggled but 
the ropes continued to hold her and it only caused her more pain. Finally 
she settled down when she realized that not moving was the best way to 
minimize the pain. 

It was a very long hour, seeming more to the naked and helpless girl like 
the whole night. She moaned and sought comfort where there was none to be 
found. She cursed herself, then cursed Mistress Marla. Then she cursed Sandy 
for allowing this to happen to her. But during those moments when she wasn't 
cursing everyone, she had to admit that this pain was bearable. Not 
pleasant, indeed, it was very unpleasant, but not impossible either. A part 
of her mind knew that the whipping with the riding crop and this ride on the 
horse were nowhere as painful as Marla could have done to her. Yet they were 
more than she and Sandy had ever done to each other. Much more. She 
remembered some of the really rough bondage she had put Sandy in, and the 
very uncomfortable ways that Sandy had retaliated. There had been real pain 
in those games, often augmented by spankings and clothespins on nipples. 
They had even played around with a little candle wax dripped on the bare 
breast of a helpless girl. Yes, the pain had been real but this was 
something else again. 

For a while she wondered if she was going to be there all night. And she 
wondered what Sandy was doing. She trusted her friend but also knew that the 
blonde was no rocket scientist. Then, when she had thought about all these 
other things, she wondered to herself why it was this harsh treatment was 
also exciting. Not that her pussy was juicy and hot and ready for sex. It 
was squashed, throbbed with pain, and didn't feel the least bit sexy. But 
she was fascinated by what was happening to her. 

Michelle had been attracted to this Mistress Marla, she could not deny it. 
She just figured it was because this woman seem so masterful, so in control. 
It just seemed right that Marla should treat any slavegirl, even Michelle, 
this way. Slaves were to be punished, confined and subject to the whims of 
their owners. 

With a jerk of her head, Michelle stopped that line of thinking. Pretty 
soon, she told herself, she would begin to believe this nonsense about being 
a slavegirl. 

When the door opened it was Marla alone. She circled the suffering girl, 
noting the tension in her legs, the pain clearly etched on her face, and the 
slight trembling of muscles long stressed by tight ropes and a contorted 
position. When she spoke it was to ask a question. 

"Do you have anything to tell me?" 

Michelle held her tongue. 

"No matter," continued Marla. "You will admit that you are a slavegirl. 
Perhaps not tonight, perhaps not tomorrow. But you will. This is only a 
lesson to teach you what it is like to be a slavegirl." 

"Please let me down." Michelle spoke the words slowly, trying very hard not 
to make them sound like either a plea or an order. 

Marla pursed her lips and tapped the side of her nyloned leg with the riding 
crop. "Your request," she began, "has, of course, no bearing on the matter. 
What happens to you is what I want to happen, not what you wish. And right 
now I wish to make you feel pain." 

"I am," Michelle said. If she was going to say anything else it was cut off 
by the swish of the crop cutting the air, followed by a loud smack as it 
impacted against bottom. 

Marla walked slowly around to the other side where she carefully positioned 
herself and let fly another stroke across the other side of an already sore 
bottom. Michelle moaned. 

"Do you believe that I could give you more pain?" 

"Yes." Her answer was simply a statement, lacking any feeling. 

"Do you believe, really believe, that I could make you suffer terrible pain 
all night?" 

"Yes." 

"And all tomorrow? And all the next day, if I so wished to?" 

"Yes." "Good." 

Marla smiled at her captive girl and stepped forward to kiss her gently on 
the side of her face. "I will send Henry to untie you." She began to leave 
the room but paused at the door. "I have another lesson for you." 

"How..." Michelle said with a whine. "How long have I been up here?" 

"How long? Only an hour, hardly a real punishment. The real pain doesn't 
start until after the first three hours." 

"I suppose you know first hand?" It was hard to keep any sarcasm out of her 
voice. But a girl who's pussy is throbbing with pain has trouble maintaining 
a conversational tone of voice. 

"Yes, I have. I spent six hours on that same horse one night. After about 
three hours I had to ask Henry to gag me so I would stop screaming." 

Michelle was silent. She believed this woman. It was incredible but 
believable in this house of pain. 

Marla left without another word. Michelle sighed. Ten long minutes later 
Henry came in. First her ankles were untied. Then her arms were lowered and 
she could straighten for the first time in what had seemed like ages. Henry 
easily lifted her off the wooden torture instrument and set her on the 
floor. But trembling muscles betrayed her and she would have fallen to the 
floor had not Henry's strong hands been on her waist. Picking her easily up, 
he carried her away from the horse. 

Their destination was a nicely appointed bedroom decorated in shades of blue 
with lavender accents. There was a comfortable looking queen sized bed, soft 
carpeting, and other furnishings as you would expect in an expensive home. 
There were also, Michelle noted as Henry placed her on the bed, certain 
additions not normally found in homes. The bed had a large metal ring in the 
ceiling directly above it. There were several rings set into each wall, and 
a small pillory rested in one comer. Michelle puzzled about that since it 
seemed rather small. Then she realized that a girl with her head and wrists 
in that pillory would have to be kneeling down and bend over. There would be 
no other position she could assume, even if her legs were not bound. 

Henry unknotted the ropes binding her arms with surprisingly gentle hands. 
Michelle gasped as he unpeeled the ropes from her flesh, creating a 
not-unfamiliar mixture of pain from returning circulation and relief at 
having arms free from those horribly tight ropes. For a long while she just 
sat there, her arms laying limply in her lap as life came back to them. 
Henry stood by like a gentleman, waiting for this naked girl to recover from 
her ordeal. When she felt stronger, Michelle tried standing only to find 
that she was holding her legs apart. Her pussy was throbbing with a dull 
ache from an hour on that wooden edge, and she was afraid it was damaged. 
Gingerly she walked around the room, not caring that a man was watching her 
as her fingers gently explored the tender flesh. Nothing seemed to be wrong, 
it just ached. Finally she returned to the bed and sat down. 

"Is this the end of my torture for this evening?" she asked Henry with only 
the slightest hint of sarcasm. 

Henry slowly shook his head negatively. He went to the dresser and removed a 
pair of handcuffs from the top drawer. 

"Oh..." was all Michelle could think to say. She held out her hands before 
her and was surprised when Henry clicked the cuffs shut on them. She had 
expected that her hands would be secured behind her back, at least. This was 
terribly mild bondage for Mistress Marla. 

With gentle hands, Henry pushed her back on the bed so she was laying on her 
back. Then he fetched a short chain and two small padlocks from the dresser. 
Standing on the bed for a second, he locked one end of the chain to the ring 
in the ceiling. Then he lifted Michelle's hands and locked the other end to 
the center link of her handcuffs. She found herself with arms stretched 
above her but not tightly. Her arms would stay straight up but they weren't 
hurting. 

Henry left. For a while Michelle simply enjoyed the comfort of laying on 
satin covers and hardly being bound at all. After a few minutes it struck 
her that she didn't have to lay there. Tucking her legs under her, she found 
that she could easily kneel on the bed, and even stand up. She could not 
free her hands, nor leave the bed, but she was comfortable. 

Michelle was kneeling with her hands before her face when the door opened 
and Rebecca entered. 

The beautiful redhead was as naked as Michelle, and like Michelle, she was 
chained in a manner that allowed her considerable movement yet kept her 
prisoner. Her hands were handcuffed before her and her ankles were joined by 
a set of leg irons. The chain between her feet was of a length that forced 
her to take short steps, but she could walk around. Without a word, Rebecca 
went immediately to the bed. She said nothing but motioned that Michelle 
should lay on her back. Michelle, suspecting what was to come, complied. 

"I've just been sitting on the horse," she explained. "I don't know if my 
pussy will work." 

"Silly girl," said Rebecca, "a girl's pussy is tougher than you think. 
You'll be all right." 

Noting that this was the first time Rebecca had spoken, she took the 
opportunity to ask a question that was on her mind. "Are you really a 
slavegirl? I mean, are you really owned by Marla?" 

"Mistress Marla," Rebecca said with emphasis on the first word, "is my 
owner. I am a slavegirl. And before you ask, I love it." 

"What! Every time I've seen you, you've been in tight bondage. And usually 
being punished. You like that?" 

"Of course. I'm a natural born slavegirl. That's it, just lay back. Now 
spread your legs. Some girls are simply slavegirls, whether they realize it 
or not. That's good. Now let me get between your legs." 

Michelle was still worried about the condition of her sex. "I'm not sure you 
should do anything there. It's still aching from that horse. I was up there 
for a whole hour." 

"I've ridden the horse for six hours at a time," Rebecca replied as she 
knelt down between Michelle's spread legs. 

"Six hours! That must have been terrible." 

"Well, I was sure that my little puss won't ever be good for sex again. But 
it was. And you're will be, too." 

Michelle was going to ask some more questions, but just then Rebecca spread 
the lips of her sex apart and attacked the soft flesh within with her 
tongue. "Oh! That tingles. Oh!" 

Michelle was surprised to find that her pussy responded with pleasure at the 
touch of another girl's tongue. With surprising speed, a fire was lit in her 
loins by the skillful tongue and lips of this self-confessed slavegirl. Soon 
Michelle was moaning with pleasure. 

"Oh, that's nice. You're good." Then she managed another question between 
the moans of pleasure. "Are you always tied up?" 

Rebecca lifted her head to reply. "Not always. Maybe only four or five hours 
a day, average. But I'm always kept in some form of restraint. When it's not 
ropes, it's handcuffs, chains, straps, or tape. And sometimes I spend all 
day in the stocks or pillory." 

"You... Oh! You mean you're never free?" "Right. Never. I'm a slavegirl." 
With that final word she returned to her tongue-lashing of a freshly 
punished nudity. 

Things were going very well and Michelle was very close to a climax, 
admittedly a strange one with her pussy feeling pleasure and pain at the 
same time, when the door opened again. This time it was Sandy. 

But, as Michelle noted through half closed eyes, Sandy had not kept her 
promise to stay unbound for the evening. She was naked, her arms were bound 
behind her back with the elbows together, she was wearing leg irons, and she 
was looking at the two naked girls on the bed with sparkling eyes. She was 
also wearing two metal clamps similar to Michelle's, and that penis gag with 
the artificial phallus sticking straight out in front. She approached the 
bed and pushed against Rebecca's side with her gagged head. 

Rebecca, seeing who was there and how she was equipped, rolled over 
Michelle's leg to position herself with her hands holding one of Michelle's 
breasts. Quickly her tongue was attacking the end of the nipple where it 
stuck through the clamp. Michelle moaned louder. 

Sandy, meantime, had not been idle. She had crawled upon the bed and was 
positioning herself, as best she could with bound arms, between Michelle's 
legs. Then she slide down until she was laying on the bed with her head 
pulled up so the penis gag was sticking straight at Michelle's pussy. Then 
Sandy wiggled and struggled to move her body forward, succeeding mostly by 
digging her knees and toes into the covers. The head of the phallus pushed 
against Michelle's slit for a few seconds then was inside the moist tunnel. 
Sandy pushed herself up until she had the phallus buried deeply into 
Michelle before beginning a very skillful job of imitating a male organ 
performing sexual intercourse. 

Michelle was soon moaning very loudly and on the verge of orgasm when 
Rebecca threw her body over Michelle's chest, pinning her to the bed. A 
second later Michelle crashed into a massive orgasm and would have bucked 
Sandy out of her had not Rebecca been holding her down. Instead she wrapped 
both legs around Sandy's head and squeezed hard. 

Mistress Marla, from her position just inside the door, watched the scene 
with a smile on her face. "A mistress gives pain, a mistress gives 
pleasure," she said quietly. "Michelle will make a most excellent 
slavegirl." 

 4 

Rape Never Felt So Good 

It was only a block from Michelle's and Sandy's apartment to the beach, and 
Michelle often walked that short distance. The ocean was a special place to 
her and she often came there to stare out at the massiveness and 
timelessness of those surging waves and that dark green water. The sea was 
somehow reassuring, it always has been and always will be. Sometimes it was 
good to be alone, to think things out for yourself and she had a favorite 
spot, near a huge rock, where she could sit in the sand and watch the sun 
swallowed by the darkness of the waters. 

She had a lot to think about. First there had been that wonderful/terrible 
night spend in Marla's dungeons and bedrooms. What an incredible mixture of 
agony and ecstasy that had been! Her bottom still bore faded marks from 
repeated beatings with the riding crop. Yet, for all the pain, no real 
damage had been done. She had suffered upon that horse thing, yet her pussy 
had worked when stimulated and her orgasms had been incredibly intense. What 
a mixture of pleasure and pain that night had been. 

And behind it all she felt that Marla was trying to teach her a lesson. It 
didn't seem logical, that giving of pain with one hand and pleasure with the 
other, but that was the way of Mistress Marla. Perhaps this whole thing 
doesn't involve logic at all, Michelle told herself. Logically she should be 
running away from that terrible woman as fast as she could. Yet she was 
strangely attracted to that wonderfully cruel woman. She found her thoughts 
constantly returning to some part of that evening. The feel of the riding 
crop striking her bottom or breast or even the sole of her foot. And the 
incredible high of her friend Sandy pumping her sex with the penis gag until 
she was ready to scream. 

What was the lesson? Perhaps nothing important. Perhaps Marla was simply 
having fun in her own way. But perhaps there was something terribly 
important to be learned. 

With a mental shrug Michelle turned away from such idle musings. There were 
other matters of importance. For example, the next Saturday. They had been 
invited back. No word had been mentioned of either the girls being bound on 
delivery, but to do otherwise would just not seem right. Sandy and Michelle 
had talked about it and decided that if they went they would both wear 
nothing but coats and shoes, and when they got out of the car they would 
shed the coats and lock their own wrists behind them with handcuffs. They 
would then present themselves to Mistress Marla as a pair of naked and 
already bound girls. There hadn't been a single suggestion that they not go. 

As the sun was half swallowed by the distant horizon, Michelle stood up. She 
should be getting back to the apartment. There was some things she needed to 
do. Saturday night was a whole day away. Just as the last tiny sliver of 
sunlight faded Michelle saw a tiny green flash of color. Then the sun was 
gone, leaving only an orange glow. Walking back home, Michelle wondered what 
lessons she would have to endure the next night. 

The two girls actually got a raised eyebrow from Ms. Cool, as they 
laughingly referred to Mistress Marla. The sight of both girls walking into 
her den, completely naked, save for high heels, and with their wrists locked 
in handcuffs behind their backs was a little more than their hostess 
expected. But she smiled, took their eagerness in good grace, and 
complimented them on how well they looked tonight. 

"Henry, a pair of leg irons for Miss Michelle," she said. "They will go well 
with your handcuffs. And please take Miss Sandy down to the dungeon. You 
know what to do with her." 

Henry quickly returned with a very nice silvery pair of leg irons for 
Michelle, which he put on, clicking snugly tight around each ankle and 
leaving her with only about twelve inches between her feet. The he placed 
one hand on Sandy's arm and led her from the room. 

Marla watched the naked girl go before turning to the other naked one. 
Tonight she was wearing a cocktail dress of emerald green velvet, low cut 
and with a slit up one side all the way to the hip. If she was wearing 
panties, they didn't show. She surprised Michelle with a question, "Why did 
you come?" 

Michelle was taken back, it was not a question she would have expected. 
"I... I guess I just like the... ah, games here." 

'Those games caused you considerable pain last week, did they not?" 

"Yes. No question about that." 

"Then what would you say to a girl who sought out things which hurt her?" 

"I am not a slavegirl, if that's what you're getting at," Michelle retorted. 
"I simply have a little masochistic side, that's all. A little of these 
games is fun. But I wouldn't want to become a full time slavegirl, like 
Rebecca." 

Marla smiled softly. "Time will tell. And what if I were to have Henry place 
you upon the horse and leave you there all night? There is considerable pain 
involved in that." 

"I know." Michelle couldn't think of anything else to say. There was a 
strange attraction for the idea, mingled with a terror at the very thought 
of how much pain that would bring her. And for how long. Riding a thin 
wooden edge with all your weight on your sex is not pleasant for any girl. 

"Never mind. I can see the answer in your face. Come along, I have something 
to show you." 

Michelle was silent as they walked along towards the back of the huge house. 
Marla walked normally but slowly while Michelle shuffled along on chained 
ankles. To her surprise they did not head towards the stairs leading down to 
the dungeons. Instead they exited through a set of French doors into a 
beautifully landscaped patio. There were lush plants around, creating a 
jungle-like atmosphere, accented by colored lights set in various places to 
give an exotic and warm feeling to the area. Overhead the sky was loosing 
the last of its sunset colors and stars were appearing. 

But Michelle's attention was immediately drawn to the figure standing on the 
diving board of a swimming pool which resembled a small lake in size. It was 
Rebecca, naked as always, standing at the end of the diving board. As they 
approached closer, Michelle could see that Rebecca was tightly bound up with 
arms behind her back and legs tightly wrapped in several places. Some rope 
went around her waist with what appeared to be an extra tight binding going 
down between her legs and crushing her pussy under its ropes. The redhead 
beauty was wearing high heels of at least four inches height. She was 
blindfolded but wore no gag. When they stopped by the side of the pool, 
Michelle began to get an idea of what this torment really was. 

A swimming pool diving board is an unstable platform at best. It is meant to 
flex and spring. Having to stand on the end of it, on high heels, was 
difficult enough, but with arms bound behind her and a large, black 
blindfold mask covering the top half of her face, it became a very difficult 
task. Then, considering that she was tightly bound and would be unable to 
swim, her position became downright hazardous. Loosing her balance could 
be... Well, Michelle shuttered at the thought of what would happen if 
Rebecca fell into the water. It was not the shallow end of the pool. 

It was a fascinating scene, a mixture of erotic, beauty and danger. Michelle 
knew that Rebecca had been standing there alone for at least a while because 
no one else was in sight when they came out. It was both fascinating and 
frightening to think about what that girl must be feeling. What if she had 
lost her balance...? 

"How long?" asked Michelle, trying to hide the excitement in her voice. 

"Oh, about an hour. She has very good balance. She could stay there all 
night." 

The bound and naked girl teetering on stiletto heels and an unsteady board 
emitted a small whine of shock but not a word of protest. 

"You really wouldn't leave her there all night, would you?" asked Michelle. 

Marla merely turned to Michelle and lifted one eyebrow slightly. 

"Guess you would. She is, after all, only a slavegirl." Michelle tried not 
to sound too sarcastic. "What if she falls?" 

"She might be able to wiggle enough to make it to the shallow end," replied 
Marla in a tone of voice that said it really wasn't too important. "She's 
not weighted down, only bound up." 

"But..." 

"You want to trade places with her?" 

That brought Michelle up short and cut off the next words in her mouth. She 
did not want to trade places. But she did feel sorry for Rebecca. This was 
strange kind of torture. 

"Doesn't it bother you that she could drown? I mean, that's a little more 
serious than just a whipping." 

"But doesn't that add a dash of excitement and interest?" 

Michelle pursed her lips and did not speak. She was looking at the tightly 
bound ankles of the girl on the diving board. She doubted that Rebecca could 
have shuffled her feet backwards to get off the board. She had been placed 
there with her front facing out into the pool. The thought occurred to her 
to wonder how they had gotten her there in the first place. She couldn't 
have shuffled out herself. And the image of Henry carrying her out on a 
shaky diving board to place her there didn't ring true. Henry's weight alone 
would make the board sag way down. But further speculation was cut off my 
Marla's turning and heading towards the house. 

"Wait for me," called Michelle as she hurried with shuffling steps of her 
own. "I can't walk as fast." 

Inside the house she asked the question that was on her mind. "How long are 
you really going to leave Rebecca out there? Surely not all night." 

Marla paused as if considering. "If it bothers you that much, I'll tell 
Henry to bring her in." She smiled sweetly. "But she really could stand 
there all night. She's done it before." 

Michelle was shaking her head in disbelief as they made slow progress 
towards the dungeons, accompanied by the musical clinking of ankle chains. 

Sandy was waiting for them in a position that brought a gasp from Michelle 
the second she saw it. Henry was also in the small room, standing by one 
wall, apparently finished with the task of preparing the blonde nudity. 
Marla whispered a few orders and he left to obey. Sandy was not comfortable. 
There was no question of that. The young woman was riding the same horse 
that Michelle had ridden the week before. 

"Hi," said Sandy with a forced smile. "See what you mean about this thing. 
It hurts." 

Her hands had been freed from their handcuffs and encased with many windings 
of tight, thin cord that crushed her elbows together. As with Michelle, her 
arms were pulled up behind her and her legs spread wide to assure that all 
her weight was directly on her sex, driving that wooden edge into her tender 
place. 

For a while Michelle simply stared at the sight before her, wondering if 
that was what she had looked like. It was a very impressive punishment, both 
beautiful and terrible at the same time. The taunt muscles beneath those 
soft curves gave testimony to the strain. And her eyes betrayed the pain 
within. 

"Henry tells me that Mistress Marla may leave me up here all night," Sandy 
said. "That will be quite a while." The understatement was uttered through a 
weak smile. 

"You wouldn't! Marla, please tell me that you won't leave Sandy up there all 
night." There was real worry in Michelle's voice. 

"What do you care?" asked Marla calmly. "It's not you who is feeling the 
horse cutting into you." 

"But I care about Sandy. Even a few minutes is a torture." Michelle was very 
much aware of her arms being handcuffed behind her back. And with handcuffs 
she had put on herself. 

Those handcuffs and leg irons told her that she had no power to change the 
course of events, nor to oppose Mistress Marla's will. 

"She's only a slavegirl. For that matter, so are you." "I'm not a slave! I 
never told you I was. You can't make me into one." 

Michelle looked defiant but did not feel that way inside. She was suddenly 
afraid of the power this woman held over the two of them. 

Mistress Marla smiled, and Michelle's heart sank. Perhaps the pain of last 
weekend was only a warm up for what was to come. "I... I'm sorry... 
Mistress," she forced out. "Please don't leave Sandy on the horse all night. 
She's not used to that kind of treatment. Please?" 

Marla didn't answer. Instead she turned and walked to the side of the 
suffering girl on the horse. For a minute she toyed with the erect nipples 
with the end of her riding crop. Then she took one step back. Suddenly and 
without warning her arm swung the crop and Sandy cried out with pain. A red 
mark appeared rapidly on her breast, right next to the nipple. Michelle 
shuttered at the memory of what a riding crop across the nipple felt like. 

"Just a little reminder that things can always get worse," said Marla. 
"Always." Then she turned back to Michelle. "Shall we leave her to enjoy her 
ride?" Michelle had little chance to reply before she was shuffling after 
the whip-wielding mistress. 

Their destination was the large dungeon with all the torture instruments. 
For a while Marla stood inside the door, her back to Michelle, as if 
surveying all her instruments of pain. "You know," she said without turning 
around, "Sandy is ready." 

"Ready for what?" 

'To become my slavegirl." The statement was said with such a quiet 
conviction that Michelle felt a tinge fear but, nevertheless, believed it. 

Marla suddenly turned and tapped one breast with the riding crop. "And 
you... Well, you're not ready. It will take some more work." 

"Never," was all Michelle could say, and that was uttered without much 
conviction. 

"I could simply keep you. It wouldn't be to hard, you know. I have a 
detective who could arrange for you and Sandy to disappear. A letter would 
arrive at your office, telling them that you've gotten a much better job 
offer but had to go to Europe immediately to take it. Your apartment will be 
closed out with at least a full month's rent already paid, so the landlord 
won't question anything too closely. Oh, yes, it could be done." 

Michelle felt coldness in the pit of her stomach. She believed this woman. 

"It could be done," repeated Marla, mostly to herself. "And it has been 
done." "What about the police?" 

"What police? Who would turn in a missing person report? Nobody that my 
detective could uncover. Same for Sandy. She has a sister in San Diego but 
they aren't too close. Not since Sandy stole a man away from her once. No 
one will be missing you." 

"I have a boy friend." 

"You have some male acquaintances but none who you are serious about." 

Michelle didn't argue. It was true. She had no close boyfriend. 

Mistress Marla smiled gently, kindly. "But don't worry, my dear. I won't 
make you my slave that way." Michelle looked startled. 

"I told you that you would become my slavegirl by your own choice. So it 
shall be." 

Michelle was greatly relieved, and it showed on her face. 

"Note please, that I didn't say you won't suffer tonight. Until dawn 
tomorrow you will be my slavegirl. After first light you may walk, or drive, 
away, still free." 

"And Sandy? She goes with me?" 

"If she wishes." 

"Why don't I like the tone of that." 

"Because I think she will chose to stay here and you know that I'm right." 

Michelle bit her lip. She was afraid that Marla was, indeed, right in her 
assessment of her blonde friend. Sandy was a natural-born slavegirl, and 
both of these women knew it. 

Her survey of the torture instruments concluded, Mistress Marla walked to 
the pillory. "This," she began, "is a simple device. Probably one of the 
first punishment devices every created. After the whip, of course." 

"Of course." 

"It holds the hands and head quite firmly, leaving the rest of the body free 
to be played with or punished. Won't you step over here?" 

Thoughts of refusing fluttered briefly across the mind but the steel on her 
ankles and wrists, and that big manservant somewhere nearby made her realize 
such would be useless. She obeyed. 

"Good. I'll just take the handcuffs off. But notice that your ankles are 
still secured. You couldn't make much of a getaway, could you? Now please 
put your hands here. And your neck here. That's a good slave." 

Michelle hated helping with her own bondage but she knew Marla was right. 
Her ankles kept her from running or kicking. And there was Henry hovering 
somewhere in the background. Unless he was still getting poor Rebecca off 
that diving board. Briefly Michelle wondered how he would do it. If he 
stepped out on the board, it would shake quiet a bit, probably enough to 
make the bound and blind slavegirl fall. Maybe if he inched his way out 
carefully... 

As she wondered about the rescue of Rebecca, she placed her wrists in the 
half circles awaiting them. Then her neck. Marla pulled her long hair 
forward so none would get caught in the crack. Then the yoke came down, 
fitting snugly over female wrists and neck. Michelle couldn't see it but 
heard the loud click of the padlock proclaiming her imprisonment. Marla then 
checked the fit, assuring herself that there was not anywhere near enough 
slack for her to pull a hand out. Satisfied, she announced her plans. 

"It's been a week since you were last whipped," Marla said. "Unless, of 
course, Sandy's done it?" 

"Neither of us has been whipped," replied Michelle. "As you cansee from my 
bottom. The marks have faded." "Good. Yes, I can see. I prefer an unmarked 
bottom. Of course, as you can image, a whipping on an already sore bottom 
would cause considerably more pain..." "I can image." 

"Good. Since you are bent over, your bottom is a fine target, Not as good as 
if it were sticking up in the air, but good." Hardly had her last words 
gotten out when there was a cracking sound and a burst of pain in Michelle's 
left cheek. "Ohhhh!" she exclaimed. "You didn't warn me." "Now that's a 
stupid thing for a slavegirl to say. Here's a red mark for the other side." 
Crack when the riding crop and Michelle had two perfectly centered reddish 
marks and a double pain in the ass. 

The cropping of Michelle ass continued for quite a while. It was accompanied 
by squeals of pain and the swishing sound of the crop dancing through the 
air. After the first couple strokes, Michelle had to be careful not to kick 
her feet. The first time she did the leg irons painfully snubbed her ankles. 

Likewise she learned quickly to contain her reactions to wiggles of the 
bottom. Jerking her whole body only hurt her neck in it's solid wooden 
prison. 

Marla was content to slowly turn her naked guest's bottom a warm red all 
over, including the tops of the thighs half way down to the knees. After a 
couple dozen strokes, Michelle began asking that this punishment stop. She 
was ignored. After around forty strokes, and after her entire bottom felt on 
fire, she stopped begging and only gasped or whined with each new cut of the 
leather enemy. And she lost count about that time, She had been counting 
just out of curiosity to see how many Marla would deliver. But the stinging 
pain began to override intellectual curiosity and only she cared about after 
that point was when would it stop. 

It was a while before Michelle realized the whipping had finally stopped. A 
hand cupped her chin and lifted her Tear-stained face to be kissed gently on 
the lips. Without thinking, and as a surprise to herself, Michelle returned 
the kiss with a passion that surprised her. 

"I'll be right back," said Marla after withdrawing from what would surely 
have become something much more than a single kiss. A few minutes later she 
was back. "Here are four pictures," she said, holding up some small photos. 
"Pick a man." 

Michelle frowned. She recognized none of the men, all were strangers. Each 
was handsome in their own ways and each had a self-assured smile in the 
photograph. "I don't understand,' she offered. "What do you mean, pick a 
man?" 

"Just that. I've decided that you will be raped tonight by a man you've 
never seen before." 

"You can't be serious." 

"Of course I am. A slavegirl is the property of her mistress to be used as 
she wishes. I wish to see your sex impaled by a male shaft." 

"That's rape!" 

"A crude word. I prefer to think of it as a reward for the slavegirl." 

"Rape," said Michelle stubbornly. "It makes no difference what you call it. 
Tonight I can whip you, I can make you ride the horse, I can put you on that 
penis shaft and let it fuck your brains out. Until dawn tomorrow you are 
mine to do with as I please." 

"But I don't want to be screwed by some stranger." 

"You can also pick Henry. He's quite good," Marla said as if recommending a 
brand of car polish. 

"I don't want any man! You can't be serious. That is rape It's illegal." 

Marla tapped Michelle's bottom with the crop. "So is keeping a woman 
prisoner against her will and torturing her But here you are. Oh, come off 
it, woman, you're no virgin And these men are all studs. Any of them will 
give you a great ride." 

Michelle looked at the photos. They did look good, all handsome. She 
remembered some saying about when rape being inevitable, enjoy it. "I don't 
want to be raped. I want you to know that I'm not a willing partner to 
this." Michelle paused again as she looked at the photos held up before her 
face. And she suddenly realized that she was horny. All that had happened 
was a good whipping with a riding crop and she was as horny as a teenager 
cheerleader! "I don't want any of them. But if I had to be raped, I guess 
number two would be my choice." 

"Your protests are duly noted. And ignored. A slavegirl's wishes don't count 
unless her mistress gives her a choice, like this time. The choice was which 
man, not if a man. And you did well, Bill is very good with a woman." 

Michelle thought she detected a hint of wistfulness in that last sentence. 
"What am I suppose to do, just stand here and he'll come in and shove it up 
my pussy while I bent over?" 

"You will be fixed up in a position that allowed a man full access to your 
sexual parts but also keeps you from moving or denying him." 

"So I'll be tied down. Do I get gagged or can I utter dire threats and 
pitiful pleas?" 

Marla smiled. "I think it would be best if you were gagged this first time. 
Makes for a smoother scene in case you change your mind." 

"I," Michelle said as firmly as she could manage, "did not chose to be 
raped." "But you chose the man, dearie." 

"I did not! Well, I did express a preference. But not for the rape. Well, 
you know what I mean." 

"Indeed I do, better than you realize, dear. Well, I'm off to call Bill. 
Henry will fix you up." Marla turned to go but paused at the door to leave 
Michelle with one further thought. "If Bill's not available, Michelle, dear, 
Henry will stand in for him. He won't mind." 

Michelle called out several nasty names but Marla had already gone. A few 
minutes later Henry came for her. 

The position was undignified but that was the least of Michelle's worries. 
She was discovering that there were many rooms in this basement area, all 
mini-dungeons or close to it. She had seen the big dungeon, and smaller one 
with the horse, the titled room where a girl could be sprayed down, and now 
what she thought of as the "Screwing Room." It was not big, and it held only 
one piece of furniture, a padded table on which she rested. The walls were 
light red with the ceiling painted a restful shade of pink. Rather tacky, 
thought Michelle. 

After being released from the pillory, her arms had been immediately bound 
behind her back, elbows touching, with average size rope for a change. That 
hurt less than the thin cord, so she figured that this was simply to get her 
arms out of the way, not to punish her. She was well aware that plain and 
simple bondage could be quite a punishment, especially when tight, thin cord 
was used. A rubber ball gag was added and strapped down tightly. She would 
not be talking. 

Then she was taken to this small room and prepared for ravishment. The 
padded table proved to be just big enough to fit a girl if she was laying on 
her back. There were five wide leather straps attached to the sides of the 
table. They went up and over her body, holding it firmly down at the neck, 
above and below the breasts, the narrowest part of the waist, and the hips. 
Each ankle was caught in a loop of rope and pulled up towards rings high up 
on opposite walls. She was then helpless, unable to twist, rise up, or close 
her legs. And they were spread in an obscene "V" with lots of angle on it. 
Her pussy was right at the edge of the table, making very accessible. A 
little experimentation proved that all she could do was shake her head from 
side to side and wiggle her bottom just the slightest. 

All Michelle could do was wait. And, except for her arms being under her and 
hurting, it wasn't too uncomfortable. But idea of a strange man coming in 
and raping her was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and yet somehow exciting. 
Like most other girls, Michelle had fantasies of being ravished by some 
tall, dark stranger. But mostly when she was a teenager. But now that it was 
going to happen she remembered an old saying, "Be careful what you wish for, 
you may get it." 

The wait was long, and while she had nothing else to do she wondered what it 
would be like. Would this be like one of those teenage boys in high school, 
a couple minutes of fast, hard pumping and then all over? Or would this man 
take his time and make sure that she also climaxed? For that matter, what 
would he do to get her excited enough to screw? She didn't suspect it would 
take much, she felt that familiar tingle down in her loins and knew that she 
was not only half way turned on but pretty horny, too. She sighed. 

As she was thinking about how she must look, a horrible idea struck her. 
With her legs pulled up and spread, not only was her vagina readily 
available, but so was her asshole! What is this guy was one of those men who 
thought it exciting to ram his dick into a girl's rear instead of the proper 
place for it? Michelle shuddered. She had never been screwed there. Would it 
hurt? Probably, from what she had heard. She had talked with one girlfriend 
who's boyfriend did it to her many times. The two things that she remembered 
from that conversation was that it hurt, and that you should always use 
lubricant. But then, that girl had been on the small side and perhaps a 
man's penis was large compared to the orifice under consideration. 

Finally he came. In person he was even more handsome than his photo, a small 
favor all things considered. Bill did not introduce himself, but walked 
around the naked and completely helpless girl, holding a cocktail glass in 
one hand. A slow full circle completed, he stood again between her legs and 
nodded his head in approval. 

Damned right, thought Michelle, I've a good body. Placing the glass down on 
the floor in a comer, he slowly removed his coat and undid his tie. There 
followed the shirt, Michelle following his hands with her eyes. When he 
unbuckled his belt, she couldn't follow the pants going down but knew what 
was happening. 

Oh, please, kind sir! I beg of you as a gentlemen, don't do this terrible 
thing! she thought but could not say it. In a way it was kind of funny, her 
wanting and not wanting at the same time what was to come. 

Bill began by teasing one already erect nipple with his tongue. Michelle 
felt electric tingle shoot through her. It felt good. Then, while teasing 
one nipple with his fingers, he switched his oral attentions to the other 
one. Okay, Michelle said to herself, I'll give you just one hour to stop 
that. Oh, that's nice. 

The erotic effect of this enforced sex and anticipation had done their work 
on the naked girl, she was ready. The idea of being raped had not really be 
as repugnant to Michelle as she had let on. Fact was, she hadn't had a man 
inside her for a while and was starting to crave that kind of action. After 
all, she was bi, not pure lesbian. 

Moving around to the open legs, Bill felt her sex with one hand, fingers 
carefully exploring the love tunnel. They found it moist and definitely 
ready for action. But it was not in his head to immediately ram his tool 
home, even though it was standing at the ready. He spread the lips 
protecting her most private place with gentle fingers and lowered his head 
to it. Michelle gasped as the tongue began it's slow licking of her most 
sensitive spot. 

She couldn't help herself. Her body responded to expert attention, she 
moaned with the pleasure he was giving her, and all thoughts of how horrible 
felt was to be raped fled out the door. When rape is inevitable, relax and 
enjoy it, she told herself. Oh, boy! 

He did know what he was doing. It had been Michelle's experience that most 
men didn't really know how to eat a girl's pussy, only other women really 
knew where all the nerves and sensitive spots are. But this man was hitting 
most of them. 

Upward and upward, her excitement grew until she was trembling on the verge 
of an orgasm. She wanted to scream out for him to shove that tool of his 
into her pussy, but the gag prevented that. 

Suddenly the tongue left. Michelle moaned into her gag and wished she could 
move. With a skill better than most men, Bill had sensed that she was very 
close and stopped just short of driving her over the edge. It was 
frustrating but a wonderful kind of torture that she wanted and hated at 
once. 

"So you want some more?" he asked. Then, when she replied only with a moan, 
he added, "Perhaps a little something inside you?" 

She certainly hoped that it wouldn't be a "little something." In the mood 
she was, she hoped for a great, big shaft, shoved in hard and deep. 

With her head held down by the neck strap, Michelle couldn't see what was 
going on between her legs. For all she knew, he was putting his pants back 
on. But that was not it. He was just positioning his tool at the entrance of 
her sheath. Suddenly she felt her lips spread and the welcome entrance of a 
shaft. With expert skill, he slowly drove his tool in, pleasing Michelle 
with every additional inch that filled her. Soon she felt his balls against 
her bottom and knew that he was all the way in. At it felt ever so good! 

He worked her slowly and carefully, making her build up to the edge, then 
backing away just enough to keep her in a high state of arousal and 
desperately wanting more. When he finally sensed that neither of them could 
hold off any longer, he wrapped his arms around the raised legs, increased 
the speed of the thrustings to a fever pitch, and finished them both. 
Michelle moaned very loudly into her gag and Bill sucked in air with a gasp 
of delight. For a long time both of them were suspended in a frozen moment 
of ecstasy, pressed hard together, sharing the deepest emotions a man and a 
woman can share. 

They came down, Bill more obviously than Michelle. It had been a fine 
coupling, enjoyable for both, satisfying and delicious. Neither said a thing 
for a long time. 

Finally he withdrew his limp member, cleaned it on her pubic hair, then 
dressed. Michelle, for her part, was slowly returning to this world and 
would have welcomed a encore. But it was not to be. Bill thanked her, said 
that he hoped he would see her again, and left. 

It was a strange mixture of satisfaction and an empty feeling. She wished 
Bill had stayed, that perhaps they could have talked a bit. But she was just 
a naked, tied down, and gagged slavegirl to be used for the pleasure of her 
mistress, and any male her mistress wished. The logical part of her mind 
said that she should be thankful for a man who considered her satisfaction 
and took pains to assure it. Many men would have just used her sex, had 
their orgasm and left without a thought to whether she enjoyed it or not. 

It was half an hour later when Henry came and released her. When the ropes 
came off, her arms hung lifeless at her sides, numb from the double 
restrictions of ropes and having been laid on for quite a while. The wrists 
were handcuffed behind her back again and the leg irons replaced, but she 
didn't care. For all her protesting, it had been a wonderful rape and she 
was one happy girl. In another room, Sandy was not feeling so happy. 

Riding a horse is a terrible way for a girl to pass the time. Her whole body 
aches from the strain, the tight ropes, but especially the wooden edge 
trying to cut her in two. At first the pain is a burning one, then it slowly 
changes to dull ache. The girl finds that wiggling in an attempt to find a 
comfortable position only makes things far worse, so she stops. The crying 
desire to move and do something about the pain is finally suppressed and she 
sits there motionless, head bowed, tears slowly crawling down her cheeks. 
Now and then a muscle twitches but for the most part she is a study in quiet 
agony. 

Such was Sandy, the youthful and lively blonde with the figure that evoked 
instant erections by all males on the beach. She moaned and small muscles 
twitched, but she did not move, she dare not. Time for this tortured girl 
dragged slowly, too slowly. Alone in one of the small dungeons belonging to 
Mistress Marla, perched upon an instrument of torture that no girl should 
ever have to endure, she waited and savored the delicious agony she both 
hated and loved. 

Cleaned up from her rape, Michelle followed Marla into the punishment room 
that held the suffering Sandy and gasped aloud when she saw what was being 
done to her friend. 

"You've left her up here all this time! That's terrible!" Michelle cried. 
"An hour is too much but you've left her there most of the night." 

"Only five hours," replied Marla evenly. "It took time to call Bill, set you 
up for your little activity, and to clean you. Actually, a little less than 
five hours." 

"Sandy! Are you okay?" called a worried Michelle. 

Sandy turned her head slowly and tried to smile but the effort was weak. 
"I'm okay. It hurts a bit, though." 

Michelle's heart went out to her friend. She had ridden that horse for an 
hour and thought the agony would never end. Poor Sandy had been perched up 
there for five times that. 

"How does our little slavegirl like the horse?" Marla asked Sandy. 

"It's punishment, Mistress," was the weak reply. 

"But do you like it?" insisted Marla. 

"If it pleases you, Mistress, then it is good." 

"Not exactly what I asked, but acceptable." She turned to Michelle. "You 
see, she has crossed over that line and is a slavegirl now. Watch." 

Marla detached her ever-present riding crop and tapped Sandy's left breast. 
"Would you like a good, hard swat across this breast?" 

"If my Mistress wishes," Sandy said dully. 

"See? She has been reduced by constant pain to a very acceptable level of 
submission." Marla actually sounded quite proud of her accomplishment. "She 
is now a slavegirl." 

"She's just in such pain that she wouldn't think of disobeying," retorted 
Michelle. "Can't you let the poor girl down? She's suffering." 

"Of course she is, silly! That is the purpose of the horse." 

Michelle wanted to protest more, to say something that might get her friend 
down from that terrible device. But she knew that there was nothing she 
could say that would change Marla's mind. Sandy would come down when Marla 
felt like it, not a second sooner. 

"Come on, I feel like having a slavegirl service me," Mistress Marla said 
firmly. "Come on." 

From the doorway, Michelle glanced back and almost cried out at the 
expression of hopelessness in Sandy's eyes. "Aren't you going to let her 
down now?" she asked as she shuffled along. "I mean, she's become your 
slavegirl. She's totally obedient now." 

"A little while longer up there won't hurt her." Marla chuckled, "Well, 
maybe it will but it will only re-enforce upon her mind just what her status 
is. But don't worry, she'll come down before dawn." 

Inside Marla's bedroom, Michelle stood uncertainly in the middle of the 
carpet while Marla removed her dress. 

"Bend over," she ordered the chained and naked girl. "Put your head down 
around your knees." 

Michelle obeyed, well aware of how much her bottom stuck up in the air in 
that position. And her handcuffed hands were kept away from the tender flesh 
of that bottom. As expected, there was a quick swish and pain exploded in 
one cheek. Quickly the crop cut the other cheek. Michelle staggered forward 
under the pain but regained her balance before falling over. 

"That's just to remind you what will happen if you don't please me," Marla 
said sweetly. "Please do a good job, I don't like to have to take time out 
when I'm getting serviced to whip a slave's bottom." 

Michelle sighed inwardly but was careful to keep her face blank. When Marla 
lay back on the bed and spread her legs, Michelle climbed up on the bed to 
kneel between her mistress' legs. Reluctantly she bent to her task. 

The lovemaking was totally one sided, Mistress Marla getting all the 
pleasure, Michelle none. Since her hands were handcuffed behind her, she 
could not use them to help her in her sexual servicing. She could also not 
touch her own sex, even though being chained and having to service another 
woman was having its effect on her. It would have been nice if Marla would 
make love to her, but that was not to be. 

When Marla was satisfied, Michelle was allowed to rest on the floor at the 
foot of the bed. It was getting on towards dawn and she was tired. The rest 
was only for a few minutes before there was a polite knock on the door. At 
Marla's command, Henry entered, leading Sandy on a leash. The poor girl's 
legs were free but she was walking bow- legged. Michelle grimaced at the 
thought of what this girl's poor pussy must have felt like. No wonder she 
was walking with legs spread as wide as she could. Her hands, like 
Michelle's, were handcuffed behind her. 

"Hi, everybody," said Sandy, obviously in better spirits than a while 
before. 

"Good," said Marla, getting up from the bed. Her nudity before the man 
servant didn't seem to bother either one of them. "I have a question to ask 
you. Sandy, would you like to stay here with me, as a slavegirl?" 

"Oh, Mistress... I don't know." Sandy seemed genuinely undecided. "It's 
sounds good but there is Michelle..." 

"I will keep you for one month. If you are not a proper slavegirl by the end 
of that time, I'll kick you out." 

"I..." Sandy stuttered. "Michelle, I... I'm sorry. But I would like to stay 
with Mistress Marla." 

"Just to make sure things are understood," continued Marla, "you will be 
kept in constant restrictions, punished whenever and however I desire, and 
will obey instantly any command. Do you agree to that?" 

"Yes, Mistress." 

"You see, Michelle, it is as I predicted. You will be going home alone." 

"Sandy, are you sure? You'll be tortured by this woman, you know that." 

"I know that Mistress Marla enjoys punishing me," replied Sandy with real 
love in her eyes as she looked to her naked mistress. "And that makes it 
okay. Beside, I sort of like it. I want to see what it's like to be a full 
time slavegirl. The couple times you kept me tied up all weekend were nice 
but this is... Well, this is different." 

It was different indeed, and Michelle could find no argument that might 
change her friend's mind. And the fact that she also found such an idea 
attractive made it much harder to make the effort. 

"Okay. You're old enough to make your own choices, I guess." Then Michelle 
turned to Marla. "Will I be able to visit her?" 

"Of course," purred Marla. "Come any time you want." "Then I guess I've lost 
a roommate," said Michelle. "Unless she flunks out of slave school." 

 5 

Visiting a Slavegirl 

Michelle wandered around the apartment, very much aware of the missing 
girlfriend she had come to love. In the year they had been living together, 
Sandy and Michelle had become very close, had some fights, and played a lot 
of bondage games. In many ways they were different, but still very good 
friends. Michelle was coming to understand that she loved Sandy. 

She considered trying to get another roommate but knew she couldn't replace 
Sandy that way. Where would she find a another girl who loved bondage as 
much as she did? 

The first weekend without Sandy, Michelle stripped off all her clothes, 
locked handcuffs on her wrists and ankles, and spent the entire weekend in 
her apartment in that restrained position. But it wasn't the same. By the 
middle of Sunday afternoon she had unlocked the cuffs and put them away in a 
dresser draw. It just wasn't the same. By dinner time Sunday evening she 
knew that she would have to visit Sandy. 

But Michelle put off the visit until the following Friday night. She could 
have made the short trip any week night but instead waited. Perhaps it was 
the hope that she would become involved in some games if there were two 
whole free days ahead. But whatever the reason, she made a call on Thursday 
night and was told by Mistress Marla that she would indeed be welcome the 
next evening. She was prompt. 

As Michelle exited from her car she though she saw a slight glint of 
appreciation in the eyes of Henry as he held open the door for her. Which 
was only what she had expected. Her dress had been chosen to show off her 
assets in a very erotic way. The dress ended just above the knees and had a 
slit up one side nearly to her waist. In front it had a very low cut V, 
exposing a lot of fine flesh and obviously no bra. The material was a thin 
silky black, shinning and clinging. Her legs were sheathed in old-fashioned 
nylons held up with a garter belt in a style hardly ever seen in modem 
times. The heels were very high, stiletto thin and shinning black. As she 
walked to the front door, her heels clicked on the flagstone pavement and 
there was even a slight swishing sound from nyloned legs rubbing thighs 
together with each step. She smiled sweetly at Henry and thanked him. 

Then she was once again inside that incredible, strange, and more than a 
little frightening world of slavery and pain that Mistress Marla oversaw. 

"My, but you look good tonight," exclaimed Marla coming up to meet her in 
the hallway. "Very good." 

"Thank you. You look fine, too." 

"Would you like a drink? It's a little early in the evening for it, but 
perhaps a small cocktail?" 

"No, thanks. Perhaps later. What I would like..." 

Michelle was cut off. "Is to see Sandy," said Marla with a smile. "You want 
to make sure she's still alive and in one piece? Well, come along, you'll 
soon see my newest slave." 

As they walked towards the stairs leading to the dungeon, Marla turned a 
shrewd eye to her guest. "And how's your special interests going? Been tied 
up lately?" 

Michelle was put off by the unexpected question and didn't answer. If she 
said no, it would somehow be like admitting that she had been deprived of 
something really good and important in her life. But she didn't want to lie 
and say that she wasn't missing her friend. She had to admit to herself that 
a major part of her life had been taken away. 

"Here we are. I've left her in her cell so you can see how she lives when 
I'm not playing with her." Marla opened a door and stood aside to allow 
Michelle entrance. 

There was a small central area with three cells, one in each of the walls 
except where the door was. Each cell was like a prison cell, a small room 
with a hard wood bench, bare walls of stone and tile floor. The front was of 
iron bars mostly door, with a large hasp. In that hasp was a padlock the 
size of a man's fist. Each cell also had metal rings set in each wall at the 
height of a girl's neck. 

Two of the cells were empty, the third held a smiling Sandy. She was naked, 
but Michelle had expected no less. She was also secured by considerable 
weight of shackles, but that was also not unexpected. Her wrists were locked 
in front of her with silver handcuffs. There was also what looked like a 
pair of handcuffs locked above her elbows but the chain linking them was 
much longer than normal handcuffs and passed behind her back. But it was 
short enough so that it held her elbows pulled back. Michelle could see that 
between the handcuffs and elbow cuffs Sandy's arms were held by her side 
with hands at her waist with very little motion possible. She could touch 
her own breasts, perhaps stretch fingers down to her pussy, and maybe 
scratch her nose if she bent her head down far enough. But that was all she 
would be doing with her hands. 

There was also a pair of leg irons on her ankles, a very short chain 
connecting the cuffs, three links where handcuffs have one. And around her 
neck was a lovely silver collar, about two inches wide and thin. In the 
front was a small ring with the end of a chain locked to it. That chain ran 
down to her wrists were another small padlock secured it to her handcuffs, 
then down to her leg irons where the end was locked to the center link. When 
she was standing that neck to ankle chain was stretched taunt but didn't 
forced Sandy to bend. 

"How do I look?" said Sandy cheerfully. "Isn't this just the cutest outfit? 
And isn't this collar delightful?" She proudly turned around so Michelle 
could see her shackles from all sides. 

"Is this outfit for punishment?" Michelle asked. It didn't look too 
uncomfortable but it also didn't look too comfortable. "Oh, this is my usual 
bondage," said Sandy happily. "I even sleep like this. Expect, that is, when 
I sleep with Mistress Marla," she added. 

"Isn't it rather uncomfortable to sleep like that? I mean, those cuffs on 
your elbows must be uncomfortable." 

"They are," agreed Sandy. "But I manage. And they constantly remind me that 
I'm a slavegirl." 

"Yes. I guess they would." Michelle looked over the naked girl's restraints 
for a few seconds, then turned to Marla. "Could we talk alone for a few 
minutes?" 

"Of course," said Marla. "But first..." She held up a pair of handcuffs 
invitingly. 

Michelle offered her wrists. It only seemed natural that she would be 
chained up to some extent in this place. But Marla made a circular motion 
with her finger and Michelle found herself turning to offer her wrists 
behind her back. The cuffs clicked snugly tight and Michelle felt a little 
thrill. This was the first time in a week she had been actually helpless and 
it felt good. Not the same as when she handcuffed herself for she knew that 
she could unfasten herself when she did it. Now she was helpless and didn't 
even know where the handcuff key that could free her was. 

Marla opened the cell door and motioned for Michelle to enter. Then she 
closed it behind her and locked it again. Then she was gone. 

Michelle found herself in a awkward position. She wanted to give Sandy a big 
hug but her hands were secured behind her. And Sandy had very little freedom 
with her hands, so hugging was out. Instead she kissed Sandy and felt a 
thrill race though her as Sandy's breasts pressed against her chest, and the 
kiss was returned with a loving passion that evoked memories of many 
wonderful nights they had spent together. 

Each girl was more than a little breathless when they separated. 

"I've missed you," said Michelle honestly. "I missed you, too," replied 
Sandy. "It's fun here but I still miss you." 

"Are you being treated okay? I mean, they're not hurting you, are they?" 

"Silly! Of course they're hurting me. A slavegirl always gets punished. 
Look!" Sandy turned to display her bottom. The bottom was crisscrossed with 
fading marks from a crop and perhaps a whip, too. There were also lighter 
marks on both the back and front of her thighs. 

"And my poor little titties are constantly sensitive and sore from all the 
clamps and clothespins they put on them. You know those little metal circles 
we both wore? Well, those things were left on my tits for a whole day! Isn't 
that wild! I thought the ache would drive me mad. But half that day I was 
also riding the horse and the pain from that wood cutting into me made me 
forget about my poor little titties." 

"Sandy, are you sure this is what you want?" 

"Oh, Michelle, you're being silly. I'm fine. I've always wanted to find out 
what it would be like to be full time slavegirl and now I know. It has it's 
bad points but there are also very exciting times." Sandy seemed very 
sincere in her enthusiasm. 

"I've been punished along with Rebecca. One time Mistress Marla tied both of 
our hands behind us and made us make love to each other on the floor of her 
bedroom while she watched! Isn't that wild! And one time she put me back on 
that mechanical shaft, you know, the one that pumps up and down inside you? 
I thought I was going to explode! I don't think I've ever had such orgasms!" 

Michelle doubted that. Sandy was the kind of girl who said every orgasm was 
the best she had ever felt. And Michelle felt a little sadness inside. 
Perhaps she had hoped that she would find a Sandy sorry for her choice and 
ready to come home with her. 

"Michelle, why look sad? I've having a good time. Sure, it hurts sometimes 
but that's part of being a slavegirl. Don't feel bad for me." 

"I'm not sad for you." Michelle hesitated. "I just miss you." 

Sandy brightened. "Well, you could join me! Mistress Marla has plenty of 
room and has said that she'll take you as a new slave. Oh, Michelle, we 
could have such fun together!" 

T don't know..." 

"Really we could." Sandy reached up one chained hand to touch Michelle's 
breast. "Maybe she'll keep us in the same cell! Oh, Michelle, it would be 
such fun!" 

Michelle felt an attraction calling to something inside her. But she was 
also unsure. This Mistress Marla want a girl to be a full time slave, not 
just on the weekends. It was much more than a game with Marla. 

"Do you still want to stay here?" she asked Sandy. 

"Yes. I just like it. I sort of... Well, fit in. You know?" 

"Yes, I know. Well, I'm glad you're happy." 

For a minute they were both silent. They were at an impasse, both wanting to 
be together but Michelle not willing to make the full time commitment. 
Finally, Michelle turned to another topic. 

"Do you know if Marla has any games planned for tonight? So long as I'm here 
might as well have some fun." 

"I don't know but I'm sure she'll think of something. She always does." 

They talked of trivial things for a few more minutes. Then Marla returned. 

"Mistress Marla," began Michelle. "May I have the pleasure of being your 
slavegirl for this one night? I will be ever so submissive." 

"I'm sure you will." Marla seemed to ponder the request for so long that 
Michelle began to think that perhaps she would be turned down. "I would 
rather that you come to me wanting to be a full time slavegirl of your own 
free will. But it happens that I have a little game I wanted to play tonight 
and perhaps you will fit into it as well as Sandy. Very well," she said 
decisively. "You will be a slavegirl until the morning's first light. Then 
you may go home to your drab, ordinary life." 

Michelle cringed inwardly. The description of her life as drab was too true 
to be comfortable. Only when playing games with Sandy, or when visiting 
Marla's dungeons did she feel really alive. 

"Thank you, Mistress." She bowed her head and awaited orders. 

First Sandy was fixed up so she could watch Marla play her "little game" 
with Michelle. She was taken to the big dungeon room, the chains taken off, 
except the collar, and she was bound to one of the posts. The ropes were 
tight and cut deeply into her soft flesh, especially behind the thin post 
were the ropes crushed her elbows together. Her head was even secured by 
ropes through her mouth and the post. Sandy could only stand and watch. 

As Michelle was prepared by Henry, she really had to wonder what she was 
getting herself into this time. First a rope was tied to each ankle. Then 
those ropes were threaded through rings high up on opposite walls. Then the 
handcuffs were taken off and her wrists tied together in front of her. Her 
elbows were tied together. Henry lowered her to the floor on her back, then 
went to the ropes hanging down from the rings. Pulling and tying one, then 
the other, he pulled Michelle up slowly until she was suspended completely 
off the floor with her legs spread wide. She kept contact with the floor for 
as long as she could touch it with bound hands, but eventually lost that. 

The wide spread of her legs forced the dress up until it was bunched around 
her hips. Having worn no panties meant that she was now fully exposed with a 
pussy wide open and pointed at the ceiling. Henry took the rope from her 
wrists and tied it to a ring below her and slightly behind her. He pulled 
that rope taunt so her arms were pulled down and immobile. Then he left her. 

It was a strange position to be bound in. She was upside down, her legs 
spread wide and her hands bound tightly down near the floor. She had never 
been tied like this before and found it both exciting and a little scary. 
With the dress gathered around her hips, her private parts were wide open. 
She was very much aware of the male presence of Henry as he finished up the 
binding of her body. But, as always, Henry was a perfect gentleman. 

After checking all the ropes and knots again, Henry departed, leaving the 
two naked slavegirls in immobility and totally helplessness. 

"Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten me into," quipped Michelle. 
"Oh, I forgot, you've got a rope gag through your mouth. Do I look as 
helpless as I feel?" 

Sandy's grunts sounded like an affirmation of Michelle's suspicions. The 
hanging upside down girl sighed and wondered how long she would have to hang 
like that. It wasn't too comfortable but it was tolerable. What worried her 
was what plans Mistress Marla might have in store for her inverted, open and 
inviting sex. 

Michelle didn't have long to wait. Marla made a grand entrance, dressed in 
flaming orange velvet down to the matching high heels. The riding crop she 
held in her hand was not, however, orange but the usual wicked black 
leather. Without a word she walked over to Michelle and tapped the end of 
the riding crop lightly against the vulnerable pussy. It was an unspoken 
threat and Michelle understood it very well. Before the night was over, 
probably in the near future, that riding crop would be used on her sex. She 
hated the idea, shivered inwardly at the thought, but still found it 
strangely exciting. 

Marla laid the riding crop down on a pair of stocks and used her hands to 
push and pull the thin material of Michelle's dress down over the hips, 
passed the big breasts, to let it drop to the floor. Michelle looked up at 
her breasts and wondered at the odd shape they took in obedience to gravity. 

"I have a desire to whip a pussy," announced Marla after picking up her 
whip. "And I have a pussy right here." She again tapped Michelle's tender 
flesh. "But perhaps we should first remind this slave of what pain tastes 
like. 

The riding crop swished through the air and a fire exploded in Michelle's 
left breast. "Ohhh! No!" she cried. "That hurt." 

Marla did not bother to reply to the obvious. Instead she shifted her 
position and swatted the other breast. They were not easy taps as a red mark 
on the smooth side of each mound showed. This time Michelle was prepared, 
all that came out was a grunt. 

Those were the first two of many blows, all painful. Marla took her time and 
targeted all the soft places of the nearly naked body hanging inverted 
before her. The crop found the soft flesh of her bottom and covered both 
globes with red marks intermixed with purples. The poor breasts were 
likewise covered with angry red marks but perhaps Marla held her hand on 
that target for none of her smooth and soft skin turned purple as did her 
bottom. 

Then the cruel mistress worked her whip up the backs of Michelle's thighs, 
evoking cries of pain and useless jerkings against the tight ropes. Then the 
front of her thighs received the kiss of the riding crop, the nylons still 
on her legs offering no protection. 

Marla stood before Michelle and placed the end of the riding crop near the 
crying girl's lips. "Kiss it," she commanded softly. "Kiss it as a sign of 
submission and love." 

Michelle kissed the wicked leather, but not out of submission. Her act was 
out of fear, fear that failure to be properly obedient would only mean much 
more pain. And she was hurting enough. 

"Very good," purred Marla. "And now you shall be rewarded. Are you ready?" 

Michelle didn't know if an answer was expected. But it was soon obvious that 
one was not. Marla placed her hand on Michelle's upturned sex and brought 
away a finger glistening with secretions. "You are ready." 

Michelle was wondering how being so cruelly bound and then whipped could 
light the fire she felt in her loins when the first blow landed squarely on 
her sex. 

She screamed. She hadn't wanted to but the pain had simply been so sudden 
and intense she could not help herself. Her body jerked wildly back and 
forth the little the ropes allowed her as she let vent the anguish in one 
long scream. 

"Sweet music," commented Marla when Michelle was reduced to sobs and gasps. 

"Oh, please, no! That hurt so much! I'll do anything. Don't hit me again." 

"Slavegirls don't give orders," said Marla dryly. Then she hit Michelle 
squarely between the legs again. Again Michelle screamed. When the scream 
had died away, Michelle was gasping for breath and moaning. The muscles 
along the back of her legs trembled and her fingers clawed at the rope 
holding her hands down. 

"You see, I can give you much pain," said Marla sweetly. "And I do so enjoy 
doing that." 

After five hard strokes with the riding crop across the pussy, Michelle was 
begging and screaming, twisting and jerking. The entire area between her 
legs was becoming numb and swollen as the torture continued. After ten hard 
strokes, Michelle was reduced to a sobbing, totally submissive female who 
would have done or said anything just so long as it stopped the pain. 

"Now you'll see that I can also give pleasure," said Marla. She discarded 
the whip and produced a dildo with a handle coming out of its base. The 
penis replica was large and apparently made of hard rubber or plastic. 
Without warning Marla placed the end of the dildo against the open vagina 
and pushed down. It slid in easily to a loud gasp from the tortured girl. 
But Marla didn't give Michelle time to think or respond verbally. She began 
pumping the instrument with hard, sure strokes. After a dozen strokes 
Michelle began moaning loudly but it was hard to tell if it was from 
pleasure or pain. 

Marla used her other hand to find the clit and tease it with her fingers. It 
was less than a minute before Michelle was giving every sign of rapidly 
approaching an intense orgasm. And she did. With a loud cry she arched her 
body backwards and shook all over. Marla shoved the dildo in all the way and 
held it there while her fingers squeezed Michelle's clit between two of 
them. 

For a long time both girls held their poses. But all good things come to an 
end, and eventually Michelle sucked in breath and fell limp in her bonds. 
Marla left the dildo with Michelle's sheath and stepped back. She seemed 
fascinated by the trembling nudity hanging there and watched the moaning 
girl for a long time. 

Suddenly she turned and left the room. It was a long time before Michelle 
was aware of her surroundings. She moaned and looked around but the only 
person in sight was the tightly bound girl on the post. After a minute 
Michelle sardonically commented to Sandy, "That was one hell of a trip." 

Almost an hour later Henry returned to lower Michelle to the floor. Her rope 
bondage was replaced with handcuffs and leg irons and she was led to Marla's 
bedroom. There she found Marla laying back on the bed with Rebecca kneeling 
between her legs. The red-headed slavegirl was naked and her arms cruelly 
bound behind her. She also had her head between Marla's legs and was busy 
giving her mistress a good tongue-lashing. 

When Marla became aware of Michelle's presence, she ordered her to take 
Rebecca's place. Michelle did, kneeling on all four. Then she was ordered to 
spread her knees apart and Rebecca ordered to come up behind her and 
continue her lesbian service, only this time on a sore and tender pussy. 

Michelle was surprised to find that her sex responded. It was very sore but 
still functioning as a second orgasm attested to. It was not as intense as 
the one she had experienced hanging in the dungeon, so she was able to 
continue her tongue work on Mistress Marla, eventually bringing her to an 
orgasm, too. 

Sandy spent the night tied to the post, alone in the dark dungeon. Michelle 
was forced to service both Marla and Rebecca several times before dawn, but 
was not allowed a third orgasm herself. Which made her glad for she wasn't 
sure her poor sex could take another one. 

The next Saturday night Michelle visited slavegirl Sandy. This time she 
found her friend's bottom and the back of her tights covered with ugly 
bruises which Sandy admitted had been placed there with a black whip of a 
kind she had never seen before. And didn't want to ever see again. The 
reason for the whipping, aside from Mistress Marla's usual enjoyment of such 
things, was because Sandy had refused to obey a direct order. The fact that 
the order involved her performing a oral sex act on Henry, an act which 
Sandy disliked immensely although she didn't mind oral sex with other women. 
She refused and was punished. Afterwards the act didn't seem so bad, at 
least compared with the pain from a serious whipping. 

"It wasn't so bad," Sandy admitted when they were alone. "But I wish that 
huge prong of his was in my pussy not my mouth." She shifted position on the 
hard wood bench of her cell. Michelle sat next to her, also naked and 
likewise chained with handcuffs and leg irons. "Did you know that he can 
hold off from coming for the longest time? I must have worked on his prong 
for hours before Marla told him he could finally have his satisfaction. And 
then, wow!" 

"Do you mind having to perform oral sex on a man?" asked Michelle with 
concern. "I remember how much you dislike it. You never would do it for any 
of your boyfriends." 

"A slavegirl has to do as she is ordered," Sandy said meekly. 

Michelle nodded, not in agreement but in understanding. She was 
understanding the mental attitude of a slavegirl much better than she ever 
had. Her own pussy had been sore for days after the cropping of it a week 
before, yet she had returned to this house of pain, to visit her friend but 
also to be a slavegirl for another night. 

"You still want to be her slave?" asked Michelle, hoping for an answer other 
than the one she got. 

"Yes. I am a slavegirl. I love Mistress Marla. Really I do! She's so 
wonderful. I love it when she lets me sleep with her. I'm always bound or 
chained for the night but it's wonderful to sleep next to my Mistress." 

That night Michelle rode the mechanical shaft to multiple orgasms while her 
nipples burned with the bite of sharp-toothed clamps and her arms ached from 
very tight cords crushing her elbows together behind her. Marla amused 
herself by walking around the oversexed girl on the shaft and cropping 
tender spots now and then to add just a little spice. 

Sandy watched from a position bent backwards over a bar, her nipples and 
breasts tormented by similar steel jawed clamps and a rash of fresh riding 
crop marks. 

A week later, when she again visited her friend, Michelle was shocked to 
learn that Mistress Marla had allowed Henry to perform intercourse upon a 
tied down Sandy. She was shocked at first, but Sandy didn't seem too upset 
about the incident. And then Michelle remembered that Marla had secured her 
to a table with legs spread up and wide for a stranger to rape her. 

So they had a laugh over it and Michelle accepted Sandy's assurance that 
Henry was a very skilled and long-lasting lover. 

Later that evening, Michelle found herself hanging by her wrists from the 
ceiling while a heavy weight dragged her legs downward. Those same small 
clamps squeezed her nipples in their painful bite, but that was all. She was 
simply left to hang there, a punishment but not as severe as she was used to 
from Mistress Marla. After an hour or two, Sandy was brought in, her arms 
tied behind her back with tight, thin cord, her mouth filled with a rubber 
gag, but her legs free. At Marla's orders, Henry unzipped his pants, freeing 
a penis that Michelle had to admit was everything Sandy had proclaimed it to 
be. Then, as Henry sat on a chair, Sandy was lifted up and lowered onto that 
prong, as she called it, an impaling that the bound and gagged girl seemed 
to rather enjoy. 

There followed an interesting show. Michelle hung with pained wrists to 
watch while Sandy sat on Henry's lap, her bound arms pressed against his 
chest, her big breasts cupped by two huge hands, and was screwed to a 
fare-thee-well. It seemed like hours that the blonde was bounced up and down 
on the male shaft, her breasts were squeezed, she gave every sign of intense 
sexual excitement. Periodically Sandy seemed to be experiencing an orgasm, 
but she was held in place easily and the screwing continued. Michelle was 
reminded of the mechanical shaft that she had the pleasure of riding. Henry, 
like it, was very long-lasting. 

Only when Marla ordered him to climax did his facial express change. For the 
first time, Michelle actually saw him smile as he shot his load into the 
bound girl. For Sandy it must have been a very fulfilling experience for she 
seemed to hit another orgasm just as he did. 

Michelle hung in suffering and was very horny. It was a long night. 

Several times over the next couple months Sandy related during the visits 
that Henry had been allowed to screw her. Sandy was pretty sure that some of 
the time Mistress Marla hadn't given direct orders for the ravishment of her 
slavegirl, that Henry had done it simply because he wanted to. And Sandy 
seemed rather pleased as she related these experiences in considerable 
detail to her friend. 

And there was always some tale of punishment to make Michelle shudder. 
Sandy's life had become one of long periods of confinement within her cell 
or some device, punctuated by intense periods of pleasure or pain. Or both. 

Michelle also suffered pain and pleasure at the hands of Mistress Marla 
during her one night visits. Sandy repeatedly asked her friend to join her 
in slavery, and there were times when Michelle's will power wavered. 

After three months of seeing her friend the constant slave of a cruel 
mistress, and being herself a slave for one night once a week, two important 
events happened to Michelle. She was laid off from her job. And she decided 
to become a full time slavegirl. 

 6 

Slavery Forever 

"...And then the guy dropped the hint that he might be able to keep me on in 
the company if I were willing to jump into bed with him," Michelle told 
Sandy. Both friends were sitting on the hard wooden bench in Sandy's cell 
under Mistress Marla's mansion. "Well, you can guess how far that got him." 

Michelle paused to shift her bare bottom on the seat. "I told him if he 
wanted sex, he could go home to his fat, bitchy wife and beg her for some. 
And I walked out." She paused again to raise her handcuffed wrists before 
her as if having never seen such a sight before. "Of course, that left me 
without a job. I could have looked for another... But, what the hell, I 
decided to give this slavegirl business a try." 

"Oh, Michelle, I'm so glad!" Sandy exclaimed. "We'll have so much fun. If 
Mistress Marla allows us to, of course." 

"Of course. Look, is she really terrible to you? I mean, she doesn't go 
around punishing you every hour of every day, does she?" 

"Well, no. But she doesn't have to be here to punish us. Sometimes she gives 
Henry orders and he does it for her. Sometimes she simply puts me into some 
kind of device and have to stay there all day and suffer." "Every day?" 

"Well, she says that a slavegirl should be punished at least a little each 
day so she will remember that she's a slave. Sometimes it's not too bad, 
Michelle. Some of the punishments are simply boring. You've never spent an 
entire day in chains and locked in your cell. No TV, no magazines, no 
friends to talk to. Gets boring." "I can imagine." 

"And there are real punishments, the kind that hurt." 

"Like?" "Oh, you'll find out. Like having to ride the horse for hours. That 
can get pretty terrible. But even having to sit in the stocks can be pretty 
bad. You sit on the edge of a wooden plank and your bottom gets sore. And 
one time I spent a whole day with my arms tied behind my back and the elbows 
together. That can become a punishment. But I guess you know that. I tied 
you with your elbows together and left you all night several times." 

"I remember. And the next day I tied you the same but added a hogtie. And 
you spent the night like that." 

"I was horny all night. Being tied tightly makes me that way." 

"Yes, I remember. I had to gag you so I could get some sleep. You kept 
demanding that I use a vibrator on you." "Well, you could of..." 

"So, every day you get punished?" said Michelle, returning to the subject at 
hand. 

"Yeah. But there are good times, too. Sometimes she has Henry put me on that 
shaft thing and I spend a few hours of almost constant orgasms. That is 
pretty wonderful. And," Sandy lowered her voice, "there's the sex from 
Henry. He's the best man I ever knew." 

"She let's him screw you?" 

"Sometimes she orders him too. Usually I'm tied real tight in some terribly 
uncomfortable position and she has him screw me. Makes an incredible mix of 
pleasure and pain. But other times he just screws me because he likes to. I 
think he's screwing Rebecca, too, but he won't talk about it. Says a 
gentleman doesn't talk about such things. Hey, do you think he'll screw you, 
too?" 

"I hope not. From what I saw, he's so big that most girls just couldn't take 
him." Michelle's voice was a little dreamy. 

"I can," replied Sandy. Then she giggled. "And often do. But it's okay if he 
gives you sex, too. He's really... Oh, what's that word? Means he can screw 
all night and still be good for a quickie in the morning." 

"Potent? Viral?" 

"Yeah. Viral. He can keep pumping all day and stay hard." 

"I'm so glad." Michelle wasn't too keen on having that big black man using 
her sex. She still regarded her sex as her own property to be offered as she 
wished, not because her mistress wanted some man to use it. Still, Henry was 
a real hunk... 

"I don't mind sharing him with you," Sandy concluded with the last word on 
the subject. 

"Do you see much of Rebecca?" 

"Sometimes. Her cell is in another room. Funny thing about Rebecca, every 
time I see her, she's in some horrible kind punishment. I don't think I've 
ever seen her just chained up like you and I are. I've walked by a room and 
seen her inside riding the horse. Or sometimes she's tied in a ball so tight 
you wouldn't believe it and just laying in a corner someplace." 

Michelle shifted again and stretched her legs out. They almost touched the 
other side of the small cell and the leg irons snugly clamped on her ankles 
made a tinkling sound. Both girls were completely naked and wearing 
handcuffs and leg irons. 

"Does Marla take you to bed often?" Michelle asked. 

"Mistress Marla! Don't forget that or you'll be punished. Call her Mistress 
Marla or just Mistress. And, yes, sometimes she takes me to bed. And 
sometimes she take both Rebecca and me to bed. But I'll bet you'll see." 

"I'm sure I will." 

Michelle leaned back against the hard brick wall and sighed. The last 
twenty-four hours were a bit of a blur and she still didn't believe what she 
had done. After walking out of her boss' office, she cleaned out the few 
personal things in her desk and went immediately home. By dinner time that 
night she had made her decision and placed a call to Marla. Marla was 
delighted and told her to come by whenever she wished, she would be welcome. 

She didn't report for duty immediately. She took a day to dean out her and 
Sandy's things from the apartment, storing them in one of those self-storage 
places. There was surprisingly little, only half a dozen boxes, mostly 
clothes. She paid a year's rent on the storage area and locked it. Then, 
with only the clothes on her back, she drove up into the Hollywood foothills 
and her fate. 

She had parked to one side of the main entrance door and left the keys in 
the ignition, certain that Henry would later find someplace to put the car. 
Then she stood beside the car, stretched, and locked a pair of handcuffs on 
her wrists behind her back. Exactly on clue, Henry opened the front door and 
welcomed her in. 

Mistress Marla wasn't present, having business to attend to, but Henry made 
sure that Michelle didn't feel ignored. First he look her down stairs to 
Sandy's cell. The youthful blonde was in her cell, naked with handcuffed 
wrists behind her back and ankles joined by leg irons. Henry removed the 
handcuffs Michelle had used and replaced them with a pair of Marla's, 
perhaps to assure that there was nothing tricky about Michelle's pair. Then 
he locked the leg irons on her ankles. She felt a tingle of excitement as 
her ankles were secured in steel. Up to that point she might have been able 
to run out, or at least try. But after the final click, she was truly a 
prisoner. 

Her shoes came off easily and the dress followed. It was only a light weight 
summer dress with thin straps that Henry easily undid so the dress would 
slip off and fall to the floor. After locking her in Sandy's cell, he picked 
up the clothing and departed. If there was any kind of special feelings 
between him and Sandy. Michelle could not read it in his face. He had 
virtually ignored the blonde slavegirl. 

So Michelle and Sandy talked. There was nothing else to do. After the talk 
and speculation of what life would be like now died down, they considered 
the possibility of making love to each other. But they were not sure when 
Mistress Marla would return - it might be any second - and were a little 
fearful of discovery. Not that lesbian sex was frowned on around that place, 
but any kind of sex without Mistress Marla's direct permission might be 
against the house rules and a punishable offense. 

It was nearly dinner lime when their new owner made her appearance. "Well, 
well, it has come to pass. Just as I said it would," she said cheerfully. "I 
now have both of these delightful slaves." 

"I told you over the phone," protested Michelle mildly, 'I'm only willing to 
try it for a month." 

"And if I were simply to keep you after the month was over...'?" teased 
Marla. 

"But... You promised..." 

"I don't recall promising anything. But we'll see at the end of the month. 
Perhaps I'll not want you any longer. Or perhaps I'll want to keep both of 
you forever." 

"But..." 

"Hush, now. You're a slavegirl now. A full-time slavegirl. That means 
twenty-four hours a day, every day. And it is my choice if you are every to 
become anything else." 

Michelle shut up. Perhaps Marla was only teasing her. So far she had kept 
her word to both of them. She had many times been a complete captive in this 
house and yet been released when Marla said she would. She could only hope 
that was also the case this time. There was really little she could do about 
it otherwise. 

"I think that I'll play a little game with my new slave. But after dinner." 
Marla smiled at both of the naked girls and left. 

"You'll like it, the food is great," enthused Sandy. 

The food was, indeed, great. Henry brought it down on silver trays, 
unlocking Sandy's hands from behind her and relocking them in front so she 
could easily eat. Later the trays were cleared away and both girls had a 
couple hours to digest their dinner before Marla and Henry came for them. 

"This game is simple," began Marla as Henry added the finishing touches to 
Michelle's bondage. "You simply have to move each of those glasses of water 
from that side of the room to the other without spilling a drop. Simple, 
no?" 

Michelle nodded because she could not speak. Her mouth was filled with a 
rubber wedge gag, tightly strapped in place with leather straps around her 
head. She was naked save for a pair of high heels and the ropes binding her. 
The high heels were the kind with an ankle strap so she couldn't slip them 
off. Her arms were bound tightly behind her back, palm to palm, and elbows 
together. 

She was standing in the middle of the room, a plain room decorated only with 
three metal rings about neck height on each wall opposite the door. There 
were a dozen drinking glasses of water on the floor by one wall. Each was 
filled to within an inch of the top and stood only an inch away from the 
wall. Sandy had been brought in and bound against the middle wall in such a 
way so she couldn't help Michelle. Sandy's arms were bound behind her back 
like Michelle's and her legs were also bound at the ankles and above the 
knees. In addition her silver neck collar was locked to the wall ring by a 
single padlock, preventing her from leaving that wall. She was also gagged 
with a rubber, steel, and leather harness that was both cruelly tight and 
effective. She would be an observer but unable to help her friend. 

Michelle was looking at the glasses and thinking that this might not be too 
hard. She could maybe bend straight down and pick up a glass with her bound 
hands. Then moving them wouldn't be much problem. 

But Mistress Marla wasn't the kind to give her slavegirls such an easy task. 
At a nod from her, Henry added another piece of rope and changed the whole 
game. He tied one end of a short length to the ropes around her elbows. Then 
he passed the other end through a ring on back of the harness gag. When he 
pulled Michelle found her head tilting up and backward. By the time he tied 
the rope at her elbows, her head was under considerable strain and she found 
herself looking straight up at the ceiling. She could move her head a little 
to either side but regaining a normal position was impossible. She whined 
through the gag but could not speak her protest. 

"I think that adds some interest to the game, don't you?" Marla was 
cheerful. "Of course, we must give you some incentive to move the glasses or 
you'll just stand there for the whole hour. So... If you haven't moved all 
those glasses to the other wall by the time I come back, or if you've 
spilled even one drop, your bottom will be severely whipped with the riding 
crop. And you'll remain bound like this all night. And you'll wear nipple 
clamps all night. And..." she added sweetly, "you'll get no sex tonight." 

Michelle whined again. "I'm glad you agree to the rules. Okay, have fun!" 

She and Henry left the room, locking the door behind them. 

Michelle first tested the bondage holding her arms imprisoned behind her. 
The ropes were solid, tight and the knots far from her fingers. She would 
not be freeing her arms. Then she tried to force out the rubber wedge but 
that was impossible. Likewise was bringing her head back to anything like a 
normal position. Sandy seemed to be trying to tell her something but she 
ignored her also helpless friend. 

She tried lowering herself straight down and almost fell over on the 
glasses. With her head held straight upward, she couldn't keep her balance. 
What would have been simple had her head not been pulled back now became the 
impossible. She felt as if she would fall backwards if she tried that again. 
Perhaps if she were to rest the top of her head against the wall and lower 
herself with that as a steadying aid... 

She tired it and got her fingers to touch the top edge of one glass. But it 
was awkward to say the least and she wasn't sure she would be able to hold 
on to the smooth glass as she rose back up. 

It was then that she found out the trap. When she tried to rise back up, she 
couldn't. Pushing with her legs only arched her body. The problem was with 
her head pressing hard against the wall. She finally had to hop her head up 
the wall in tiny little jumps accompanied by exerting her leg muscles. When 
she finally was standing again, she rested. An hour was a long time to move 
a dozen glasses and she needed to consider this problem carefully. 

Her next attempt was to slide the glass gently with one toe. The floor was 
just uneven enough to make this a difficult task but what was worse was the 
fact that she couldn't see the floor. 

Even tilting her head as much as she could to one side, she couldn't see the 
floor under her. She would have to find the glass and push it by feel. 

If only she could see, she told herself. Then she remembered that there was 
a set of eyes in the room that could see the glasses. Sandy! If she could 
only get Sandy to tell her when she was near the glass... 

Sandy seemed to have caught on for she was making loud squealing sounds 
whenever Michelle's foot came near a glass. Michelle used that to let her 
know when she was near one and was actually able to put the side of her foot 
against one glass and begin sliding it along the floor. It was very slow 
work and had to be done totally by feel. Then she understood why the high 
heels had the ankle strap. It would have been easier for her if she could 
have kicked the shoes off and used a bare foot. 

With agonizing slowness the naked slavegirl move the glasses across the 
room. Dozens of times the glasses caught on some unevenness on the floor and 
had to be eased around the obstacle. There was no watch to let her know how 
much time she had left, but Michelle was getting worried that the limit was 
approaching too far. It was while worrying about the time that she made the 
mistake of loosing concentration. The glass caught on a tiny projection of 
the uneven floor and, with a loud clunk, tipped over. Sandy sighed as a 
large puddle of water proclaimed a whole night's torment for Michelle. 

Michelle might have simply rested until her owner came to discover her 
failure, but instead she went back and worked on the next glass. In all, she 
had eight of them moved by the time Marla came back. There was no reason to 
continue the awkward efforts, she simply continued because she had been 
ordered to do so. 

"So, you have spilled a glass," said Marla sadly. "And not moved all of 
them. Well, I guess I'll have to carry out the punishments I promised. 
Henry!" 

Michelle was picked up and carried to the big dungeon where she was hung 
upside down by the ankles. A rope was tied to her wrists and that used to 
pull her arms down towards the floor and away from her bottom. It was an 
awkward and uncomfortable position but Michelle didn't have long to worry 
about that part. Mistress Marla was standing behind her with a riding crop 
in her hand as soon as Henry had finished binding Sandy to a post where she 
could watch. 

From the first blow to the last, Marla smiled and uttered pleasantries while 
her newest slavegirl suffered. The blows were stinging and soon her whole 
bottom was glowing red and felt on fire. It was almost an hour before Marla 
had finished the whipping, a very long time to a suspended and suffering 
slavegirl. When Mistress Marla and the riding crop had left the room, Henry 
attached the promised nipple clamps before lowering the sobbing girl to the 
floor. Her ankles were left bound together and she was carried from the 
dungeon to Marla's bedroom in Henry's strong arms. There the rope dangling 
from her ankles was passed through one of the wall rings and her legs pulled 
up until all of them, and Michelle's bottom, were off the carpet. The rope 
was knotted tightly and Michelle was afraid this was the way she would have 
to spend the entire night. 

Her fears were correct. She remained with tightly bound arms and legs pulled 
up all night. She remained gagged for the entire period, and her nipples 
ached and burned long into the night. 

But perhaps worse than her physical discomforts was what she had to watch. 
Sandy was brought in, naked, wrists shackled with handcuffs, ankles joined 
with leg irons. She stood submissively by the bed until Marla entered, fresh 
from a shower, lovely in her own nakedness and ready for the next part of 
the evening's entertainment. Michelle didn't want to watch but she found 
herself viewing every second of Sandy's lesbian services of their mistress. 
And feeling terribly horny, even for a long time after the activity on the 
bed had ceased. 

Thus was slave Michelle's first night of slavery. 

 7 

Torture and Frustration in the House of Pain 

At the end of Michelle's first night as a full time slavegirl, she was sore 
and ached in many places, notably her jaw from the gag, her arms from the 
tight ropes that had held her elbows together all night, and her ankles from 
the ropes that had held her legs up to the ring on the wall of Marla's 
bedroom. Oh, and her nipples from the small but very effective nipple clamps 
that had adorned them all night. Her bottom was sore and somewhat painful to 
sit on. And she was still horny when dawn found her to be followed shortly 
by Henry who freed her legs and helped her from the bedroom retreat of her 
mistress. The gag was left on until they were well clear of the room to 
assure the continued sleep of the two girls intertwined on the bed. 

It was not really needed, for when the gag was removed, Michelle could still 
not talk for almost half an hour while her jaw muscles tired to unlock. The 
ache in her jaw had become the most demanding pain of all towards morning. 
Perhaps it was because she was used to sleeping with arms bound behind her 
but not with such a huge gag forced into her mouth. 

Henry removed the ropes and allowed her to clean herself in a luxurious 
bathroom. After she was clean and even her hair repaired from the evening of 
torture, she was handcuffed, given a breakfast, and led to the cell next to 
Sandy's where she almost instantly fell asleep on the hard wood bench. It 
was mid afternoon when she awoke to find Sandy staring at her from the 
adjoining cell. "You all right?" Sandy asked. 

"Yeah. I guess. Still a little sore in my rear. But otherwise okay." 

"I was trying to tell you what to do." "What?" asked Michelle. 

"In the room with the glasses," her blonde friend replied. "I was trying to 
tell you there was a way to get the glasses moved." 

"And how was that?" 

"Well, Mistress Marla played the same little game with me when I first came 
here. I guess I didn't tell you about. Anyway, she had Rebecca tied to the 
wall like I was. I just figured she was there to watch, but Rebecca later 
told me that she was the secret to moving the glasses." 

"But how could she help you? Or, for that matter, how could you have helped 
me? You couldn't talk. And I guess Rebecca couldn't either?" 

"That's right. Rebecca was gagged, too. But the trick is for the girl who 
can walk to go over to the girl who is tied to the wall and they both turn 
their backs to each other. Then they work on the ropes until one of them 
gets free. If I had gotten free, I could have untied your arms, including 
the elbows. If you had gotten free, you could have used your hands better. 
Or just untied my hands so I could untie your elbows. You know what I mean." 

"Yes, I can see that. But isn't that cheating? I mean, wouldn't Marla punish 
us for untying our ropes? Okay, before you correct me, I mean Mistress 
Marla." 

"No. She didn't say that freeing ourselves would be against the rules. 
There's sort of a rule around here. If a slavegirl can free herself from any 
ropes or chains or whatever, she won't be punished. Chances are whoever tied 
her will be punished instead for doing a bad job. If that someone were a 
slave, of course. And of course," added Sandy, "attempting to escape out the 
door is another matter. That will get you a real punishment." 

"So all I had to do was walk over and untie your hands, then you untie mine, 
and I would not have had to spend a miserable night?" 

" 'Fraid so. Sometimes Mistress Marla leaves a way out of her contests. If 
you're smart enough to figure it out." 

"Guess I failed on that account. I'll try to remember next time." 

For a long time neither of them said a word. Michelle felt pretty silly for 
not thinking of so simple an answer to the task Mistress Marla had given 
her. 

After dinner had been served and taken away, Henry removed Michelle from her 
cell and took her to the big dungeon. There her leg irons were removed and 
her feet installed in the floor pillory, that box-like set of stocks that 
closed around a girl's ankles while she was standing on the floor. Then her 
wrists were freed from the handcuffs and bound with very tight, thin cord. 
But they were crossed and her elbows were not bound at all so she considered 
this mild bondage. 

But then a funny thing happened. Henry produced a bra into which he 
sprinkled large quantities of a white powder. Then he placed the bra over 
Michelle's large breasts and hooked it in back. The straps went over her 
shoulders and the bra was on her with no way she could get it off, lacking 
hands as she did. 

Then Henry left her alone in the dungeon, switching off the lights as he 
closed the door. 

Michelle wondered about this punishment. Having to stand in the dark with 
your hands bound behind you and your ankles locked in wooden stocks wasn't 
too bad. But that white powder worried her and her worst fears were soon 
realized. The itching began as a slight irritation of her nipples. Then it 
grew until all of her breasts were burning and itching like crazy. It was 
maddening, a torment she could do nothing about. Her hands could not reach 
the bra, nor could they reach the hooks in back between her elbows. The 
closest she could come was to just touch a fingertip to the lower edge of 
the bra on one side. 

And the fiendish cunning of this torment was driven home to her when she 
realized that she couldn't even roll around on the floor. With her legs 
locked a few feet apart, she was forced to stand. She could not lowered 
herself to the floor, she could not even fall down. All she could do was 
wiggle and shake and do a strange dance of agony in the complete darkness. 
Her mouth was free of gag and she could cry out or protest or beg all she 
wanted. But it would do no good. She was alone in a soundproof room. 

Minutes seemed like hours and the hours were unending. She cursed then 
pleaded aloud in hopes that someone was actually listening to her. She felt 
like screaming and did towards the end. But it was all to no avail. The 
torture continued, a terrible torture that would leave no mark on her body 
save for a redness of the breasts that would fade by the next morning. 

Later that night Henry came to remove her from the stocks. But he left her 
hands bound behind her as he led her from the darkness to the bathroom. 
There he removed the bra to the accompaniment of her thanks but again left 
her hands bound. As he soaped and cleaned her breasts of the hated white 
powder, he explained that if he were to free her hands before the powder was 
all removed, she might have injured the soft flesh by scratching with her 
fingernails. Reluctantly she had to agree for the urge to scratch vigorously 
was still present even after he had cleaned them with soap and water. 
Actually, his attentions felt rather good and his hands were surprisingly 
gentle. 

When she was clean, she was returned to her cell with hands still bound. 
Henry carefully explained that the itching would diminish but continue for 
some time and it was best to make sure that her hands would not be able to 
reach them. She thanked him for his concern. 

The cell door locked shut on the newest slavegirl of this house of pain and 
ended her first full day as a slave of Mistress Marla. Sandy didn't return 
until after breakfast the next morning, having spent the night again in the 
bed of their mistress. 

"Come here," said Mistress Marla in an imperial voice. "Kneel." 

Michelle did as she was ordered, shuffling over to stand before her mistress 
then sinking to the floor as gracefully as a girl can when her wrists are 
handcuffed behind her and her ankles joined by leg irons. She also bowed her 
head, for good measure. 

Marla walked slowly around the kneeling girl, lightly lapping a riding crop 
against her thigh. Decision made, she turned to Henry, gave one curt order, 
and left the room of Sandy's and Michelle's cells. The order had been 
simply, "The wall." 

Henry told Michelle to follow him and the two of them left Sandy still 
locked in her cell, not to mention handcuffs and leg irons which were the 
usual restraints for a slavegirl in this house. When they reached the main 
dungeon, a slow progress because of the shortness of the chain between 
Michelle's ankles, she was ordered over to one wall, the only one made of 
wood in the whole room. The handcuffs were unlocked and placed aside. Then 
she was backed against the wall and her arms raised to either side. There 
were wide leather strap attached to the wall, one at the right position for 
each wrist if the arms were spread in a V and straight. Another was directly 
behind her and tightly secured her tummy to the wall. With arms and body 
firmly attached to the wall, Henry knelt and look Michelle's left ankle in 
hand to spread that leg wide and strap it to the wall at least a foot off 
the floor. As the other foot was pulled to the side, she felt her weight 
settle onto her arms and the tight strap around the narrowest part of her 
waist. 

When the last ankle was secured, she was not touching the floor but still 
the position wasn't too bad. Most of her weight was taken by that strap 
around her middle and made it cut in. Her spread eagle position made her 
feel vulnerable, wide open, and wondering what else might coining. 

But Henry added no more bondage, nor did he attach any kind of instrument of 
torment. He simply checked all the straps and left. 

It was a strange situation for Michelle. She had come to expect either pain 
or pleasure from Mistress Marla. But this was really neither. The discomfort 
from being hung on the wall might increase as time wore on, but it was mild 
compared to most of the torments suffered in this house. Perhaps the worst 
part of this day's torture would be the boredom from being alone. 

For a while Michelle experimented with her restrictions, twisting this way 
and that, trying to reach buckles with fingers, mostly just to pass the 
time. She gained no advantage over the straps, no progress towards freedom, 
but she had not expected to. 

As the hours wore on, Michelle found that her thoughts constantly were 
returning to her mistress and the sight of Sandy laying contentedly beside 
her, their black and blonde hair intermingled on the red silk sheets. Pangs 
of jealousy made her moan and long for the time when she would be the one 
laying there, satisfied after lovemaking with the mistress who owned her - 
at least for a while. 

As the day wore on, Michelle found her thoughts more and more of sex, with 
Marla, Sandy, and even with Henry. She longed for him to return, hoping that 
the available position she was in with its wide spread legs, would tempt 
him. Before long she was regretting that she could not even touch herself. 
She could only hang in her straps and feel frustration. And wonder what 
tonight would bring. 

Evening brought release from the wall, but not release from the sexual 
desire that had slowly grown during the day. Michelle was one girl who 
enjoyed being tied up and found it very exciting. But the male who unbuckled 
her straps had not shown the slightest interest in using her body, and 
Michelle had dared not suggest what was on her mind. She was horny but 
didn't yet understand all the rules of this slavery. To ask Henry for sex 
might break some unknown rule and bring severe punishment upon her. So she 
contented herself with the feel of his strong hands upon those parts of her 
body necessary for removing her from the wall and relocking the handcuffs 
and leg irons on her. 

Dinner was served in the kitchen for a change. Sandy was there, still naked 
and secured with handcuffs and leg irons. Rebecca was nowhere in sight. The 
food, served by a female cook, was excellent, as usual. The cook was 
apparently used to serving naked and chained girls for she ignored the 
condition of the two girls at her table. 

After dinner both girls were allowed to bath and tidy themselves up. They 
took turns soaping each other in the large bathtub, a game little hindered 
by the joining of their wrists before them. The leg irons were removed to 
make the bath easier, and there were portions of the procedure where the 
intimacy rekindled the fire in Michelle's loins. Soon both she and Sandy 
were engaged in far more stroking and grabbing and kissing than needed to 
insure cleanliness. Michelle lowered her joined hands over Sandy, locking 
the blonde's arms to her side and pressing their bodies together. Their kiss 
was long and passionate. 

Normal lesbian sex was not possible in the bathtub, but the two hungry girls 
did a good job of stimulating each other. Sandy's talented hands teased 
Michelle under the bubbly water to almost bring her to an orgasm. Surely it 
would have followed had not Henry chose that moment to enter. "Mistress 
Marla wishes your presence," he informed, ignoring the female embrace before 
him. 

"We'd better go immediately," said Sandy. Michelle didn't disagree. It was 
most pleasant in that warm, bubbly water with Sandy but the fear of a 
displeased mistress was far greater. They untangled their limbs and exited 
the tub. 

"One of you will share my bed tonight," said Mistress Marla. "And one of you 
will be tightly bound up in an uncomfortable position for the night and 
allowed only to watch. But which of you will lay comfortably in bed and 
which will suffer from tight ropes all night?" 

Michelle dared not speak. She wanted very much to be the one in bed, 
touching and being touched. But she was not sure about Marla. Could this be 
a trick? If she asked for the bed, would that condemn her to the other fate? 
It would be very much in character for a mistress to deny what a slavegirl 
asked for. So Michelle said nothing. 

"Mistress," said Sandy, "I have had the pleasure of serving you for several 
nights now. Perhaps it would be nice if you allowed Michelle to do it. I 
don't mind being tied up all night." 

Marla said nothing. The silence lengthened as both girls held their breath. 
At stake was a night of pleasure or a night of discomfort. Finally she 
smiled. "Slave Sandy, bend over." When the naked girl had obeyed, her 
mistress lashed her a good one across the available cheeks with her 
ever-present riding crop. "Get in bed," came the order. 

Sandy obeyed but with a backwards glance towards Michelle. She had tried, 
and both girls knew that it would not be wise to press the issue. When their 
mistress made up her mind, that was that. 

Henry came in with a large collection of ropes in his hands. Michelle sighed 
and wondered how she would be fixed for the night. 

Henry began with the arms, as usual. They were bound behind her with elbows 
touching. The cord used was not the thinnest so there was not as much pain 
from the beginning as she had experienced before. Not that she would be 
comfortable during the long night - far from it. Then ropes bound her arms 
to her body, encircled her breasts, cut into her tummy, and made any 
movement with her arms impossible. Then her legs were bound together at the 
ankles, above and below the knees with tight, masterful ropes. 

A rubber and leather strap gag was added, and speech was impossible. A 
leather collar was strapped around her neck, a collar with two built-in 
metal rings, one in front and one in back. Henry then lifted the bound and 
naked girl and deposited her against one wall. The back ring of her neck 
collar was locked to a ring in the wall and Michelle's restraints for the 
night were finished. She was forced to stand, made completely helpless, and 
facing the bed where her girlfriend was laying along side their mistress, 
already sucking on her fine breasts. Michelle wanted to moan. 

As Michelle had feared, it was a long night. It seemed to her that Marla and 
Sandy made love for hours before they both fell asleep. And those were very 
frustrating hours for the bound girl forced to stand and watch. A smoldering 
fire heated her loms but all she could do was grab her own ass and squeeze, 
a frustrating and not very pleasing substitute for touching those places she 
longed to touch. 

By pressing her body against the wall, Michelle found that she could get 
some rest in snatches of sleep but most of the night was spent awake with 
the sight of Marla and Sandy together on the bed. Marla had unlocked Sandy's 
leg irons and their bodies were intertwined most of the night in a manner to 
make Michelle want to moan. Only a pair of silvery handcuffs marked which 
was the slave and which the mistress. 

The days passed slowly, far more slowly than Michelle had expected. Sandy 
had been right, being a slavegirl was mostly boredom for long periods 
between intense pleasure and intense pair.. It was a full week before 
Michelle was allowed into the bed of her mistress, and then only after she 
had been tightly bound up so that her arms and legs were useless. With great 
difficulty she managed to position her mouth were she could give lip and 
tongue service to her mistress. Yet, by then she was so frustrated that even 
the simple act of giving oral sex to another woman seemed wonderful to her. 
The fact that afterwards she was literally kicked out of bed and onto the 
carpet to spend the night with a body aching from overly tight ropes did 
little to dim her pleasure at having been allowed to serve. 

After two weeks she was allowed in bed with Sandy and Marla with only her 
ankles joined by leg irons and her wrists secured behind her by handcuffs. 
By the third week she was allowed in bed with only her hands cuffed but she 
still have to return to her cell for the night. Michelle wondered why it was 
that Sandy was so favored as to be allowed to sleep all night with their 
mistress while she was not. 

The daily routine was rarely varied. After breakfast and a chance to clean 
themselves, the slavegirls were put into some kind of restraints for the 
day. Often it meant simply sitting in their cells in handcuffs and leg 
irons. But often there was a pillory or stocks or even being tied to a post 
to provide variety. 

And there were punishments. But they came and went with little rhyme or 
reason. Some days Michelle or Sandy, or both, would be punished, made to 
ride the horse or endure some painfully tight bondage. Other days not. But 
they never knew why. Michelle finally decided that it was simply to make 
them suffer. 

And there were punishments from Mistress Marla's hand, whippings, clamps 
upon the nipples, and a few times a canning across the bare bottom with a 
slender yellow cane that hurt like hell and made Michelle cry out with every 
stroke. 

One evening during the fifth week it amused Mistress Marla to see her newest 
slavegirl bound to a chair and have to take Henry's massive tool in her 
mouth. Under orders she worked the shaft in and out of her mouth, licked it 
with her tongue, and generally gave all the attentions a female mouth can 
give to an erect male phallus. It must have felt good to Henry but mostly it 
just made Michelle hornier. 

Sex was a lot rarer than Michelle had expected, perhaps, she wondered, as a 
part of "keeping her in her place." Or perhaps simply as a part of the 
ongoing punishments. Michelle was kept from her friend Sandy by a mean 
mistress who keep them in separate cells at night. If Sandy was getting sex 
from Henry, and she assured her friend that she was, it was never done 
before Michelle. 

Occasionally Michelle caught sight of Rebecca and had to admit that the 
redheaded slavegirl was certainly being treated differently from her and 
Sandy. Their usual restrictions consisted of handcuffs and leg irons. But 
Rebecca was rarely, if ever, secured by anything less than tight ropes. 
Michelle often saw her in the big dungeon, usually bound to one of the posts 
with a great quantity of tight ropes, and securely gagged with one of those 
rubber, leather and steel things that Michelle hated. 

One day as Michelle was being led down a corridor, she passed an open door 
through which she saw Rebecca riding the horse. Another time she saw the 
redhead suspended by her wrists with weights hanging from her bound ankles. 
But mostly Rebecca was nowhere to be seen, and the two slavegirls assumed 
that she was off someplace in the house being punished. They speculated 
often about why Rebecca was treated so differently from themselves, but 
could come to no conclusion. Questions to Henry went unanswered, and they 
dared not ask Marla. Henry did let it slip one day that Rebecca was kept in 
constant bondage of one form or another. When Michelle replied to the effect 
that so were she and Sandy, Henry grinned and told her that wearing 
handcuffs and leg irons was nothing compared to what Rebecca went through 
daily. And he should know because he was the one who "fixed" her up each day 
and then again for each night. Michelle got the impression that with her and 
Sandy as resident slavegirls, Rebecca was getting far less personal 
attention from their Mistress than before. 

Then came the end of a month of captivity, the amount of time Michelle had 
agreed to serve as a slavegirl. That evening Marla took it in her mind to 
use Sandy as a foot stool while she sipped brandy in the lounge. Sandy's 
arms were bound behind her and then she had to kneel and bend over for Marla 
to rest her feet upon the slavegirl's back. Michelle was merely handcuffed 
and kneeling next to her mistress' chair. It was a quiet time and looked 
like the evening's entertainment would not begin for a while, so Michelle 
ventured a question. 

"It has been one month since I came here, Mistress," she said tentatively. 
"If I were to ask you to release me, would you do it?" 

Marla didn't answer for a long time. Finally she said, "No." 

"Then I won't ask," said Michelle. It was not a sign of submission but 
rather a lack of desire to push the issue. Michelle was a prisoner in this 
house. She was under constant restrains, constantly naked, and reminded with 
daily punishments that she was a slave. Demanding her freedom would only 
anger her mistress and she did not wish to do that. Yet she could not let 
the matter drop completely. 

"Please understand that from this moment on you are holding me against my 
will," she said simply and without anger in her voice. 

"Of course, dear! Most slaves are held against their will." She sipped a 
little more brandy. "Tonight," she began, changing the subject, "we will 
hang slave Michelle up by her wrists and whip her with a strap." 

Later, while hanging from sore wrists and dancing on air to the tune of 
stinging blows from a thin leather strap, Michelle wondered if she would 
ever be free again. It was both wonderful and terrible to be a slave under a 
stem mistress. But Michelle was coming to the conclusion that it was not 
really the full time profession for her. 

Exactly ten weeks to the day after Michelle walked through Marla's front 
door with her wrists secured behind her by her own hand, Sandy was sold. 

 8 

Slave Trading 

"Actually," said Marla with a smile, "I didn't really sell Sandy. I traded 
her for another slavegirl named Erika. Lovely girl, you'll like her. She 
will be here tomorrow." 

"But you sold Sandy? Why? How could you do that? I..." Michelle's protests 
were cut abruptly short by the sting of a riding crop across her breast. 

"The subject is closed, dear little slavegirl. We shall speak of it no 
more." Marla walked a half circle around the naked, chained and kneeling 
girl before her. "For tonight I think a nice hogtie in one of the dungeons. 
I'll have to sleep alone but that's the price you have to pay to keep your 
slavegirls remembering what they are. Henry!" 

Michelle was taken to her cell where Henry encased her in many windings of 
rope then put her on her stomach and secured her ankles to her wrists in a 
classic hogtie. It was tight, uncomfortable and, of course, inescapable. 
Michelle cried herself to sleep that night but very little of her sorrow was 
from the painfully tight ropes. 

The next morning she met Erika. The new slavegirl was blonde, a classical 
Scandinavian beauty, with long golden hair half way down her back. She also 
possessed a very shapely figure with full, round breasts and muscular legs. 
That fact that she was nearly Henry's height did little to distract from her 
beauty or the sexiness she projected. Michelle would certainly have been 
interested in playing with this gorgeous creature if she were not so sad and 
mixed up over loosing Sandy. 

Erika was delivered to Mistress Marla in the morning by a delivery van, 
packed into a large wooden box. When Henry unscrewed numerous large screws 
then pried the lid off. it was to reveal a very naked and lovely woman of 
around twenty-two, well bound, well gagged, and still alive courtesy of 
carefully placed air holes. The inside of the box was padded to hold one 
extra large female form. That form had been tied with numerous windings of 
rope to make her a prisoner even without the box. A blindfold covered the 
eyes and the entire bottom half of her face was covered with some kind of 
leather harness, strapped on tightly. With the lid in place and screwed 
down, Michelle was quiet sure that this girl could not move a muscle. 

Michelle stood by as Erika was removed from the box and the blindfold and 
gag taken off. The lovely blonde blinked as if she had not seen daylight for 
some time. And she could barely work her jaw, so strained were the muscles 
from the rubber wad that had filled it for what was obviously a long time. 
She could also not use her limbs after the ropes were peeled off and meekly 
allowed her wrists to be joined behind her back with handcuffs. It was only 
with Henry's help that she could stand to be led to her cell. 

Mistress Marla stood by, smiling with approval at her newest acquisition. 
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" she enthused. "I wanted her from the first 
moment I saw her. Lady Sonya didn't know what she had. Look how big and 
strong she is, and yet how completely helpless she was in that box." 

"Yes, Mistress," replied Michelle, not sure if a reply was expected from 
her. 

"I'll have to keep an eye on her. Normal bondage may not be enough. We'll 
have to take extra precautions with this slave." 

"Mistress Marla?" 

"Yes?" 

"How long has she been in that box?" Michelle asked. "About twenty-four 
hours. She was flown from Sweden to Mexico on a private jet. It's no problem 
to land down there and disembark a box without customs checking anything - 
if you bribe the right people. Likewise to get a box put on a commercial 
airline for the United States. I've found that the easiest way to get a 
slave into this country is to simply box her up and have it come in as 
merchandise. Much easier than bringing in a person who has no passport and 
who is in chains. Don't you agree?" 

"Yes, Mistress." Michelle could see a certain logic to it but mainly she was 
trying to imagine what Erika had gone through during the shipment. Being 
totally helpless, blind, silent and immobile for a full twenty-four hours 
while you're being flown, driven and handled by strangers was quite an 
impressive feat. And more than a little exciting to think about. Of course, 
Erika had very little to say about it. She was simply a mute and immobile 
piece of baggage. Michelle shivered and wondered if she would ever be 
shipped that way. 

Then a thought hit her. "Mistress, did you ship Sandy out like that?" 

Marla smiled at Michelle. "Of course, dear little slavegirl. She was boxed 
up last night while you were in your cell and shipped out late last night. 
By now she's on a plane..." Marla glanced at her watch. "And about to land 
in a distant country, ready to assume her new life as a slavegirl for a new 
owner." 

"May I ask who you sold her to?" 

"Well, actually I traded her. You see, Lady Sonya wanted this really cute 
French girl. But she was owned by Sheik Abdul Hassin. Hassin, on the other 
hand likes American blondes. So I traded Sandy to Hassin, who traded Monique 
to Lady Sonya, who traded Erika to me. Simple, no?" 

"Yes, Mistress." Michelle was coming to find that it was best to say, "Yes, 
Mistress", often and whenever something else wanted to spring from her lips. 

"Oh, my little slavegirl looks sad." said Marla sarcastically. "Perhaps a 
little whipping would pick up her spirits?" 

"It's just that I expected Sandy and I would be slavegirls together." 

"Slaves don't have a say in what happens to them. Surely you've learned that 
lesson by now." "Yes, Mistress." 

Marla stared at Michelle, probably wondering how sincere her submission was. 
Finally she ordered Michelle to her feet and walk with her. They ended the 
short walk in a little cell that held only a ring at head height. As soon as 
Michelle was inside, Marla closed the door, leaving her slavegirl alone. 
Michelle idly tired it but the door was locked from the outside. Most of 
these little mini-dungeons of Marla's could be locked from the outside. 
Michelle sighed and sat down on the hard floor to await her fate. 

A few hours Henry entered. Motioning Michelle to her feet, he produced a 
tiny handcuff key which he used to free her hands from behind her. But 
freedom, as it always is in that place, was short lived. A rope loop was 
almost immediately around her wrists and she had to stand there while her 
arms were corded tightly behind her back, with special attention to getting 
her elbows tightly together. Her legs followed, being bound at the ankles 
and again just above the knees. Henry left but returned with a leather 
collar which he buckled around her neck, and a rubber wad gag which he 
placed in her submissively open mouth and strapped tightly on. Michelle 
hated those gags but had to admit that they were certainly effective. The 
only noise she could make were small whines through her nose. 

A padlock secured her neck collar to the ring in the wall and Michelle found 
herself standing by the wall, unable to walk, sit or free herself. Henry 
left and again she was alone. 

The ropes hurt but Michelle was used to that. What occupied her mind was the 
image of Sandy being bound tightly and secured into a box for shipment. She 
could imagine the feeling of the gag (not hard with one filling her mouth as 
she thought about 



the blindfold corning down over her eyes to make her blind, and the tight 
ropes. She wondered what Sandy felt as the lid was screwed tightly over her. 
Did she know what was happening? Or where she was going? Knowing Sandy, 
Michelle was fairly certain the young blonde was probably having a sexual 
orgasm as the lid was being screwed on. The 

thought of being boxed up and shipped to a sheik to be part of area! harem 
was warming Michelle's loins. She would hate to have it happen to her, but 
it was exciting to think about. 

Just when Michelle was beginning to think that spending the day in this rope 
bondage was her punishment de jour, Henry came in and proceeded to set a 
dozen glasses of water against one wall. Michelle immediately recognized the 
little game Marla had played on her, and it wasn't hard to guess that Erika 
was about to have it played on her. A minute later the blonde was brought in 
to confirm Michelle conjecture. The girl was naked, with arms bound behind 
her, a harness gag on her head, and a pair of high heels with ankle straps 
on her feet. Mistress Marla explained to Erika what she was to do and smiled 
as Henry tied the rope linking her harness gag and elbows. There was a lot 
of confusion and fear in her eyes as she realized that she was to perform 
the given task while her head was held in that uncomfortable and awkward 
position. Then Marla and Henry were gone. 

For a while Erika straggled against the ropes, fighting them with a 
considerable show of anger and strength. But even a girl as big as Erika who 
looked easily as strong as most men could do nothing about the ropes holding 
her arms prisoner behind her. Angry grants and whines escaped from behind 
her gag but in the end she was only exhausted and still bound. 

Erika was still regaining her strength after her fierce straggles as 
Michelle considered her actions. She knew the trick to solving this contest 
but should she help this new girl? Her first reaction was negative - let the 
girl figured it out herself. If she didn't, then too bad for her. There was 
a kind of anger against the beautiful slave, as if it were her fault that 
Sandy was gone. But then Michelle figured that Erika was probably just a 
pawn in these games, the same as she and Sandy. And Rebecca. A slavegirl has 
enough problems without negative feelings from her sister slavegirls. 

A few grunts got Erika's attention. Michelle turned her back as much as she 
could and wiggled her fingers. Then she tried to point to Erika's bound 
wrists and reach towards them with her fingers. Perhaps Erika mistook the 
invitation for she snorted and turned her back to Michelle. But whatever the 
reason, she never did try to help Michelle free her hands so she could get 
help in return. 

The tall blonde quickly found that she couldn't bend down to get the glasses 
in her hand and turned to the trick of sliding them over the floor with her 
foot. Michelle sighed. She knew that only failure waited, a certainty that 
was confirmed when the second glass tipped over to tinkle against the stone 
floor and spread a wet spot. Michelle smiled inwardly. At least she had 
gotten half the glasses move to the other wall before spilling one. 

Erika grunted in anger and kicked the wall. Then she kicked over all the 
glasses, breaking some of them. Boy, thought Michelle, this girl's got one 
bad temper. Then Erika leaned against the wall in one corner and smoldered. 
Michelle felt a surge of amusement at the thought of what Marla would say to 
such a rebellious slavegirl. 

Mistress Marla took in the whole scene and smiled with genuine happiness. 
"Oh, joy! A rebellious slavegirl! What fun it will be to train her." She 
turned to Michelle, "Did you try to help her? Never mind, it doesn't matter. 
Apparently she didn't want help. You know, Michelle, that's the one thing 
you and Sandy lacked: rebellion. Both of you were practically fully trained 
slaves the moment you first walked in. Not an ounce of fight in either of 
you." She smiled and patted Michelle's flank with the riding crop. "But with 
Erika here I will have some fun. And I'd better be careful, if she gets 
loose I probably would not be able to physically control her. Such a big, 
powerful woman! And so helpless! I'm sure you understand, Michelle." 

Michelle did, in a way, understand. Even though loving every second that 
Sandy had keep her in bondage and teased her helpless body, Michelle had a 
dominant streak and could easily understand the challenge and enjoyment of 
training a woman like this Erika to be a submissive slavegirl. The thought 
of having a tightly bound Erika crawling across the floor to perform acts of 
lesbian love upon her thrilled Michelle. 

Henry and Marla took Erika away to some unknown and probably painful fate, 
leaving Michelle still bound and shackled to the wail. She sighed. Marla had 
a new toy to play with and she would probably be ignored. Then she wondered 
if that was how Rebecca felt. Perhaps all that extra tight, extra painful 
bondage and punishments she knew Rebecca almost constantly had to endure 
were because Rebecca had rebelled against the attention Sandy, and then 
Michelle, had gotten from her mistress. But no, Rebecca had been treated 
harshly from the first time they saw her, long before they became slaves 
themselves. 

But Michelle had to wonder what was her fate. Would Marla become so 
engrossed in playing with this new toy that she would loose interest in 
Michelle? What would happen then? Would Michelle become like Rebecca, 
constantly punished? Or would Marla find some other new and exciting 
slavegirl and trade Michelle for her? Would Michelle find herself being 
boxed up for shipment to some horrible fate in a few weeks? 

Conjecture is one of the only amusements a slavegirl has to pass the time. 
That and imagination. Michelle had been finding out that her imagination 
could become pretty fertile during long hours of restriction. So she 
imagined terrible tortures for Marla, once she got free and took over the 
house. She would bind up her owner so tightly that she couldn't move a 
muscle. Then she would tickled her all over for hours on end. She had heard 
or read somewhere that prolonged tickling can drive a girl mad. How long 
would it take? Or was that some kind of old-wives tale and not really true. 

And then she considered how she would suspend Marla by her ankles over vats 
of horrible liquids and dunk her repeated until only her wiggling feet would 
be visible. She would pull the sputtering and dripping girl out before she 
drowned. After all, you can't get much amusement out of a dead slavegirl. 
But then the dunking would go on. It helped pass many hours imaging what you 
could put into a vat. Honey? Vinegar? Slimy swamp water? Boiling acid? And 
other, much more gross and unmentionable substances were considered in 
loving detail. 

But there was little real anger in her heart. It was more a means of passing 
long, boring periods of confinement. 

In mid afternoon Henry came for her, untying her legs and unlocking the 
collar from the wall ring. Michelle was led down a hall to one of the small 
rooms, one she knew well. Inside Erika was already astride the wooden wedge 
that they called the 'horse." The Swedish blonde was sitting on the wooden 
edge in much the same position as Sandy and Michelle had spent tormented 
hours; legs spread wide and tied to the walls arms bound behind with elbows 
together and brought up until the girl was forced to lean forward, and small 
but effective nipple clamps. Michelle noted immediately that the girl wasn't 
gagged. Erika glared at Henry but said nothing. But Michelle could tell that 
there was a lot this big blonde wanted to say. She was hurting and angry. 
Michelle felt Henry's strong hands on her waist and suddenly she was lifted 
into the air only to be set down on the horse, facing Erika. She did not 
fight being placed on the horse. It would serve nothing and probably only 
get her additional punishment. Henry secured her ankles and spread her legs 
away from the wooden wedge. Then he tied a rope to her wrist bondage and 
pulled her arms up behind her. 

It hurt immediately, the horse is like that. But that pain will also grow, 
Michelle knew from bitter experience. Henry checked all of Erika's bondage 
and then left without giving even a hint as to how long these two slavegirls 
would ride the horse. Michelle hoped not long. 

"My name is Michelle," she offered. "I know your name Erika." Erika looked 
up into her eyes but said nothing. "Do you speak English?" Michelle asked. 

"Yes. A little." Her accent was heavy, as if she had only few classes in 
English in high school as many Europeans do. 

"Well, did anyone tell you how long we'll be up here." Michelle was trying 
to make conversation but she also wanted to know. 

"Not know." 

"Oh. Have you been a slavegirl long?" 

Michelle regretted asking as soon as the words were out. It was a stupid 
question and sounded like some guy asking a girl if she came to that bar 
often, or what sign she was. 

Erika added some puzzlement to the pain in her face. 

"Never mind. Look, don't worry, this hurts but it doesn't kill a girl. Have 
you ever ridden the horse before?" 

"Horse? I ride horses at home. This is horse? Not good." 

"Yes, not good. Have you ever been tortured like this before?" 

"Hurts." 

"Yes, it hurts," agreed Michelle. 

"I think what we have here is a failure to communicate." 

"This... horse hurt. Do... hurt to me." She seemed to be searching for the 
right word. 

"You mean it will do damage to you? Don't worry. You will hurt and your 
pussy will ache for a long time. But there will be no permanent damage. Your 
pussy will work fine." 

Michelle could see from the look in Erika's eyes that the last 
pronouncements exceeded her grasp of English. "It will hurt. But it will be 
okay. Understand?" 

"Hurt." 

Yes, hurt," sighed Michelle. She could see that their conversations weren't 
going to be very informative. "Scream help. Good grief, I'm beginning to 
talk like a child." 

Erika whined in pain but did not scream. Michelle knew that it was only a 
matter of time. Any girl would start screaming sooner or later when she had 
to ride the horse. 

For a while she simply sat there, enduring and looking at Erika. The Swedish 
girl had a very nice body, with large firm breasts and very shapely legs. 
The sight of her astride the horse, suffering and looking very helpless was 
pleasing to Michelle and would have be downright enjoyable had she not been 
enduring the same torture herself. 

"Escape?" asked Erika suddenly. 

Michelle shook her head. "I don't think so. No escape." 

"Escape." 

The single word was filled with conviction. Michelle sighed. Apparently this 
blonde hadn't been a slavegirl very long. Escape was something that Michelle 
didn't consider possible anymore. Marla and Henry were simply too good with 
the chains and ropes and other restraints. She had never seen even the 
slimmest chance at escape in all the time she had been a slavegirl here. 

The two suffering girls rode the horse for three hours but talked very 
little. Michelle tried to teach Erika some new English words but it was a 
very slow process and as time passed Erika became more and more upset at the 
constant pain in her most private parts. Near the end the blonde slave was 
screaming, short, mild outbursts at first but occasionally a scream of 
frustration and angers that bounce off the walls of the small room. Michelle 
understood the emotions being vented in those screams but accepted her own 
suffering in silence. But she understood. She had screamed the first time 
she rode the horse. 

Later the evening, both girls were freed from the horse, handcuffed and 
leg-ironed and allowed to clean up before dinner. Erika cried when she was 
lifted from the sharp wood edge and walked awkwardly afterwards. Michelle 
understood how she felt, the fear that her pussy was damaged and would never 
be right, and the ache that continued long after dismounting the horse. 

That night Erika was tightly bound, gagged and chained to the wall of 
Mistress Marla's bedroom to watch as a chained Michelle performed prolonged 
lesbian lovemaking on their owner. When the lovemaking was over, Michelle 
was allowed to sleep in her mistress' bed while the Amazon Erika stood a 
painful watch throughout the night. 

The next day, while being bound up for her daily punishment, Michelle had a 
chance to talk to Henry. He was tying her hands crossed behind her back when 
she asked, "Henry, do you know where Sandy is?" 

He paused for a second then finished up the tight knots. "Miss, I'm not 
suppose to talk about that. And you're not suppose to ask." 

"But, Henry... Sandy was my friend. She said she was your friend, too." 
Henry didn't comment on that. He shift Michelle around into a sitting 
position in the middle of floor and crossed her legs. He began binding the 
ankles crossed together. 

"Henry, did Sandy mean something special to you?" 

Henry stopped what he was doing. "Yes, Miss," he said finally. "She was 
something special." "She loved you, too." 

Michelle wasn't sure if love was the right word but it seemed a good thing 
to say then. Sandy was not the first girl to in love with a big phallus 
attached to a strong, silent type. Henry finished the binding of the ankles 
and began buckling a leather collar around her neck. "I liked Sandy." 

"She really liked you. She said that she never knew a man like you." Which 
wasn't, far from what Sandy had actually said. 

Henry finished the collar and then tied a short length of rope to the ring 
set in the front of it. He passed that rope down to her ankles and around 
the ropes holding them together. Then he rolled Michelle over on her back 
and pulled the rope back through the collar ring. He pulled until Michelle's 
chin was touching her ankles. Then he tied some knots up at her collar to 
secure her in that position. When he rolled her back into a sitting 
position, she was bent over with head touching the floor and back bowed over 
spread legs. She could only flutter her fingers but not roll over, 
straighten up or escape. It would be a very uncomfortable position very 
soon. 

"Henry," she called as he headed towards the door. "What can we do about 
Sandy?" 

"Do? Michelle, we can do nothing. Sandy is a slave. Slaves can be sold or 
traded." 

"But there must be something we can do. Could you let me go and I'll try to 
find Sandy?" 

"Slave Michelle," said quietly but seriously. "You do not talk of escape, 
nor do you ask for help in that direction. I am suppose to report anything 
like what you just said. The punishment is a whipping from the calves to the 
shoulders. Both sides." 

Michelle shivered. Would his casual mention of her words mean a real and 
truly horrible whipping for her? "We can do nothing. Your friend is now the 
property of one Sheik Abdul Hassin and is in a country very far from here. 
And this is both in distance and time. They own slaves legally there." 

Michelle felt very helpless, both at the unpleasant bondage she was in and 
the words she had just heard. For a long time the big black man stood by the 
door looking at the naked girl bent over on the floor of the small cell. 
Finally he sighed and repeated, "We can do nothing." He put his hand on the 
light switch and was about to leave when Michelle called out. 

"Henry... Thank you." He left without reply. 

 9 

Prisoner of San Jancith 

Erika slowly became Mistress Marla's favorite. There was no denying that, 
Michelle could easily see that it was happening but could do nothing about 
it. A slavegirl can strive to please her mistress but has very little 
options other than to be properly submissive and obedient. Michelle tried 
her best, but Marla became more and more intrigued with the Amazonian blonde 
who possessed fire and spirit. And, wisely, Michelle did not try to emulate 
the blonde. She was submissive and not given to open rebellion, and that was 
all there was to it. 

Whether Marla sensed the growing desperation in her raven-haired slavegirl 
or not was perhaps not important. Even if she sensed that Michelle was 
jealous of her new toy, she simply didn't care. AH that matters is the 
wishes of the mistress, the woman who owns the slave. 

Several times Mistress Marla took delight in demonstrating punishments on 
Michelle, torturing the girl purely for the sake of showing Erika what could 
happen to her, but Erika usually seemed unaffected by what happened to 
another slavegirl. The worst was one time when Michelle had to spend over 
two hours hanging upside down by her ankles while Marla slowly and 
methodically lashed her body with a riding crop. When the mistress was 
finished, her slavegirl was covered with red marks from ankles to neck. She 
had taken the unusual action of leaving Michelle's hands free. All during 
the whipping Michelle tried to cover her breasts or pussy and constantly 
found her hands leaping to hold some place that bore a fresh sting from the 
crop. Being completely naked and upside down made her a vulnerable target 
for Marla's riding crop, even with the hands free. And escape was, of 
course, not possible even if Michelle had been left alone. She could touch 
nothing with her hands, and if she were to try to pull herself up to reach 
the ropes around her ankles, she would find no knots to undo, only tight 
ropes that disappeared into the hole in the ceiling where they were attached 
to a winch. 

After only a little more than one week Michelle was no longer the favorite, 
no longer the slavegirl allowed into her mistress' bed to serve with tongue 
and lips. It became an obsession with Marla to force Erika to into lesbian 
service, a act which the blonde giantess obviously hated. Perhaps the 
struggle to mold that slavegirl continued in Marla's bedroom each night. 
Michelle did not know. She only knew that she was no longer taken to the 
private bedroom of her owner and that Erika no longer shared an adjoining 
cell in their little prison. 

After two weeks of no sex, not even the servicing of her mistress, Michelle 
took a dramatic step that might well have gained her a terrible punishment. 
Henry had just bound her in her punishment position for the day when she 
spoke to him about something she desperately wanted. She was standing in the 
middle of the big dungeon on high heels, legs bound tightly together and 
arms pulled up behind her back so far that she had to lean forward with her 
arms straight up over her. Her elbows were, of course, tightly corded 
together, and it looked to be a long day of discomfort edging towards pain. 
Summoning up her courage, Michelle made her plea, "Henry, please fuck me." 

Henry stopped to look at this naked and very attractive slavegirl. "You 
don't have to be vulgar, Miss Michelle," he said quietly. 

"Henry, please call me Michelle. And don't all men think of the sex act as 
'fucking'?" 

"Perhaps most men, but a gentleman doesn't. If you mean that you would like 
me to make love to you, then why not ask that way? Or call it 'having 
intercourse'. Or something pleasant and nice. There are too many crude words 
for a beautiful act." 

Michelle was surprised at Henry's mild voice and at the words he spoke. 
"Henry, would you please make love to me? I am so very horny. It would be 
wonderful." 

"I suspect that you are lonely, too, Michelle." he said. "You have lost your 
best friend and your mistress." 

"I guess you're right. Maybe you're the only friend I have around here." 

Henry did not answer that comment. But he did answer her question by 
unzipping his pants. Michelle could not see what happened after that because 
he walked around behind her, but her heart was pounding. The only thing she 
wanted in the whole world right then was to have his manhood shoved deep 
inside her. She could feel his fingers spread the flesh of her bottom and 
thighs behind her and wondered why he didn't untie her legs so he could 
perform the act of intercourse in the normal manner. Suddenly she felt the 
head of his rather oversized penis pressing against the entrance of her 
pussy and she knew he wasn't going to ease her bondage one little bit. 

With a firm but not harsh shove, his penis was inside her love tunnel, 
finding it moist and ready, indeed glad, to received him. His big hands took 
hold of her hips and guided her against the thrusts of his hips like she was 
a doll. Apparently he had performed this unusual intercourse position before 
because there was no fumbling, and it was surprisingly easy. Michelle would 
not have thought it possible for a girl to be ravished while her legs were 
tied together, especially while standing, but it was happening to her. Being 
bent forward by her upraised arms helped. 

His thrusts were long and deep and made her feel wonderful inside. The 
warmth in her sex quickly blossomed into fire and she was thrusting back 
against him as hard as a woman so bound could. Henry might have been willing 
to prolong the act of lovemaking but Michelle rushed into her orgasm so fast 
that it must have taken him by surprise. He grabbed both breasts and 
squeezed and held himself deep inside her while she shuddered and moaned in 
pleasure. When she finally begin to return to the land of the living from 
Cloud Nine, he began slowly pumping again with his still- rigid rod. With a 
moan, Michelle realized that her return to normal was being interrupted. The 
heat in her loins flared again under his expert attention and she was once 
again building up to a climax. 

When it came, the second climax was every bit as good as the first. Only 
after he was sure she had gotten full measure out of the act did he withdraw 
his still erect member. "Have to save some for Rebecca, Miss," he commented. 

"You mean you're screwing Rebecca, too?" panted Michelle. 

"There you go again, Michelle. No need to be crude. And, yes, I do sometimes 
make love to Rebecca. She has a harsh life and rarely gets any kind of 
satisfaction from Mistress Marla." 

"So you brighten her day a little with a quickie!" Michelle said with a 
smile. 

"The same as I just did for you." 

"And you were... making love to Sandy, too." 

"She asked for it." 

"Only if a girl asks for it?" Michelle was not being sarcastic and Henry 
knew it. 

"Yes, Miss Michelle. Only if a girl asks me. Or if Mistress Marla orders 
it." 

"In one case it's part of your job," said Michelle, "and in the other case 
it's a kindness you impart upon us poor slavegirls." 

"It could be put that way. I obey Mistress Marla's orders. If she tells me 
to use my tool on a slavegirl, I do it. But if it is not by my employer's 
orders, then I would consider it only if the girl asked for it. Otherwise it 
would be rape." He paused a moment then a faint smile tugged at the comers 
of his mouth. "Perhaps that is chasing rabbits with an ax, however." 

"Chasing rabbits...?" 

"Splitting hares." 

"That's terrible," Michelle groaned. "The pun, I mean. The lovemaking was 
wonderful. I'm ever so grateful." 

"I'm glad to have been of service." He turned to go. "You do know that I 
have to leave you bound like that all day?" 

"Of course, Henry. Orders. I don't mind, really I don't." Michelle smiled to 
show her feelings. "And thank you." 

Henry bowed his head slightly and left. Michelle was uncomfortable for the 
day - that was, after all, an uncomfortable position to be bound in. But she 
was content in a strange sort of way. 

The next day she again had a chance to talk to Henry as he was fixing her in 
position for the day's punishment. This time it was to be a day standing on 
tip toes with the phallic shaft up inside her pussy. Her arms were bound 
behind her in the usual elbows-touching position she was becoming quite used 
to. There were nipple clamps that burned and bit in with sharp, tiny teeth, 
but that was all. She was impaled and had to stand on her toes with no way 
for her to get off that artificial penis. But it felt good inside, at least 
at first. Later in the day she would probably be very tired and sore in that 
area. The motor was not turned on and the shaft was not making with it's 
wonderful up and down and twisting motions. It was simply a means of holding 
her in one place and making her feel degraded. 

"Henry, do you ever make love to Mistress Marla? And I hope I'm not going to 
get in trouble for asking that." 

"When I first went work for Mistress Marla, I wondered if she was going to 
expect me to satisfy her lusts. I once had a chauffeurs' job with a woman 
who hired me for my body not my driving skills. But I've come to realize 
that she really prefers other women and not men. No, Michelle, I have never 
performed with Mistress Marla and doubt I ever will." 

"Have you heard anything about Sandy?" 

Henry did not reply and Michelle felt certain it was because he did not want 
to tell her something. Finally he sighed and said simply, "The sheik is a 
harsh man. He takes out his anger at the Westerners by torturing young 
American girls." 

"What? What do you mean, Henry?" 

"I fear that your friend Sandy is not having a pleasant time in Abdul's 
harem." 

"Oh, Henry, isn't there something we can do about it? And isn't she your 
friend, too?" 

"I fear there is nothing we can do. Being owned is not pleasant. And, yes, 
Sandy is my friend, too. She was different." 

Michelle bit her lip in frustration. "What's happening to her?" 

"I'd rather not say. It's better that you don't know." 

With that he left the room. But first he touched the buton and Michelle felt 
the shaft inside her lower an inch or so. Michelle was saddened by the news 
of Sandy and very frustrated that she could not do a thing. And, at the same 
time, she was grateful for Henry's little kindness in allowing her to lower 
her feet a little. There would be much less strain this way. 

The day was long, the position uncomfortable, and the bondage a torment. Her 
arms hurt as did her nipples where the clamps squeezed them. But as time 
marched on she found that she could almost lower her feet flat on the floor. 
Perhaps her pussy had stretched to accommodate the dildo within, but she 
could just touch her heels to the floor by noon, a kindness for which she 
was grateful. The other kindness for which she was grateful was that with 
this added slack she could raise up on her toes, then lower herself, an 
action which made the dildo slide in and out a bit. And that led to the 
biggest kindness of all: several orgasms during the afternoon. The 
helplessness, burning nipples and sliding dildo inside her were very 
stimulating. And a lonely slavegirl has to take whatever comfort she can, 
whenever she can. 

Michelle was actually rather mellow when Henry came to free her for dinner. 

Weeks drifted by and Michelle settled into a routine of daily torments, 
usually just short of being torture, followed by long lonely nights in a 
cell by herself. She saw little of Erika but guessed that Marla was 
stretching out that Amazonian slavegirl's training so as to enjoy it more. 
She also saw very little of Rebecca and wondered why, since her daily 
treatment and Rebecca's were coming to be more and more alike, they weren't 
tortured together. But, as Henry pointed out when asked, being alone in your 
punishment was a part of the punishment. Sharing it with another slave eased 
the pain. 

Then, in the fifth month of Michelle's captivity, everything changed. She 
had lost track of how many days and weeks she had been a slavegirl. It was 
obvious Marla considered her a slave for life and what did an accurate count 
of the days and weeks mean then? But, on the one hundredth and sixtieth day 
of her slavery, had she been counting, Michelle was taken to the garage area 
where she was packed into a wooden box and shipped away. 

No one told her what was happening. She simply assumed that she was being 
taken to her daily punishment. The handcuffs had been taken off and her arms 
bound tightly behind her with rope, but she had only assumed that was 
because it was a part of the day's punishment. A rubber wedge harness gag 
was tightly strapped on her head but that was also not too unusual. It was 
only when she saw the box laying open that she knew something was happening. 
And then it was too late. Her arms were useless behind her and she was 
silenced. Henry said nothing to her as he bound her legs together. But 
Michelle sensed that there were emotions just below the surface in this 
powerful man. But what they were she had no idea. 

She was set into the padded interior of the box to discover that it fit 
perfectly. It must have been shaped to fit her body, she realized. 
Customized for her, as it were. There were straps attached to the insides of 
the box that went over her body, holding it tightly down and immobile. A 
blindfold was added just before a strap over her already covered mouth was 
secured down to hold her head in place. Michelle's heart was beating faster 
than normal as she tried to make noises that might get Henry to tell her 
what was going on. But the black man ignored her and continued his work as 
if it were an assembly line where he put together a car, not boxing up a 
live, naked girl. 

All straps were checked and a couple tightened one more notch. Then the lid 
was placed over her. Inside, Michelle heard a muffled sound as the lid 
fitted in place, then tiny sounds and movements as Henry screwed in the two 
dozen wood screws that held the lid firmly in place. She felt a moment of 
panic at the tightness of the padding pressing in on her whole body. The 
darkness was complete, she could only the tiny flashes of light and vague 
shapes the originated within the human eye. She could hear very little 
through the padding and doubted that any noise she could make would be heard 
outside the box. Breathing was a bit strained but possible. There were small 
screen-covered air holes around her head where just enough air came through 
for her to stay alive. 

Finally the tiny noises stopped and she could no longer feel the small 
changes of her box as Henry drove in the screws. The silence lengthened and 
she guessed that Henry had left the room. In the blackness and tightness of 
her box, Michelle felt both fear and excitement. She had to curse that 
perverse part of her that found this treatment exciting, but could not deny 
it's existence. She had come to realize that helplessness was a stimulus to 
her, it excited her and kindled a fire within her loins. And this was nearly 
the most perfect helplessness she had ever experienced or could imagine. 
Nothing could move, everything felt squeezed. And there wasn't a damned 
thing she could do about it. 

A while later she felt her box picked up and carried somewhere then set 
down. A while after that it was again picked up and set down. Then there 
were movements that were not like those when someone carried her and she 
assumed that she was in a truck or van being driven someplace. 

Michelle tried to follow what was happening to her but lost track after what 
she thought might have been being loaded into an airplane. There was motions 
but it didn't sound like a jet airplane. Only when her ears popped did she 
feel certain that she was in an airplane gaining altitude. But traveling in 
what direction and to where she had no idea. She was a slavegirl reduced to 
cargo. 

Michelle had been, in turns, cold, hot, thirsty, hungry, scared, lonely, and 
had to go to the bathroom. The trip seemed to go on forever. There were 
times when her mind seemed to wander off into some other world, a world in 
which there was nothing save the darkness and pressure against her from all 
sides. Perhaps she slept, perhaps net. Memories faded in and out, like 
dreams. 

At some point she stopped trying to guess what was happening to her box. So 
it was a surprise when she heard the unmistakable sound of the lid being 
lifted off and felt the padding that had been pressing against her breasts 
disappear. After a few more moments she felt the straps holding her down 
being unbuckled and was finally lifted out of the box. Several hands held 
her in a standing position while the ropes were taken from her arms and 
legs. Which was good because she would not have been able to stand on her 
own. When the blindfold was lifted she had to close her eyes against what 
seemed like an intense light blasting her in the face. Very slowly she 
squinted until she was able to make out the shapes of people around her and 
very bright sunlight pouring in a windows. The shapes slowly formed into two 
men wearing robes of white. One was holding her up while the other finished 
removing the ropes from her limbs. She was vaguely aware of her arms being 
pulled behind her and secured with handcuffs but could not feel for they 
were totally numb from the prolonged and rather tight bondage. With the 
removal of the gag she understood why it had been so long before Erika had 
been able to speak. The muscles at the base of her jaw ached terribly and 
would not obey. 

She was helped to a sitting position on a chair. Her arms were beginning to 
prick with the pins and needles of returning circulation. When a glass of 
water was held up to her lips, she realized that her mouth was dry. It was 
hard to swallow but she drained the glass with a thirst she hadn't realized 
she had. That was one clue that she had been in the box a long time, perhaps 
a day or more. For a few minutes she was left alone while the men gathered 
up the ropes and other "packing materials", tossed them in the box, and 
replaced the lid. Michelle had a chance to study the men and her 
surroundings. The men had Arabic features and dark complexions. Their robes 
reminded Michelle of something straight out of Lawrence of Arabia, so she 
was not surprised when she looked out the window to see sand dunes 
stretching off into the distance. Then hope flared as she realized that 
might mean she was now the property of Sheik Abdul Hassin and therefore 
reunited with Sandy. But that hope dimmed to nothing as she remembered what 
Henry had said about the sheik hating Americans and being very cruel to any 
American woman he could get his hands on. 

After a while one of the men barked an order at her. She could not 
understand the language but the meaning was clear and she stood to be led 
out of that room. She and her captor descended stairs and Michelle hoped 
that she would soon see Sandy. But the cell she was led to was empty. Oddly, 
it was very much like the cells in Marla's basement dungeon. Perhaps they 
both bought their prison equipment from the same manufacturer. 

Shortly after the door was locked behind her, it was opened again, this time 
to admit an older female carrying a tray of food. The tray was left on the 
bench beside her and no attempt made to unlock her hands from behind her 
back. Michelle noticed that there was no silverware, and knew she was 
expected to eat as best she could with no hands. The rice was flavored with 
something she had never tasted before and the other plate held what looked 
to her like the Greek dish of lamb wrapped in grape leaves. But she was very 
hungry and ate every morsel, licking the plates clean. 

The long afternoon was very hot in her cell. A tiny window up near the 
ceiling gave her no view but it did admit hot, dry air off the desert sands 
above. Michelle reclined on her side on the hard wooden bench after moving 
the tray to the floor. She slept some of the afternoon, a restful, reviving 
sleep unlike the fitful, dream-filled sleep of her traveling box. A dinner 
tray was brought and taken away by the same servant woman. Again not a word 
was said to Michelle, nor did she try to engage the servant in conversation. 
Only later, as the light coming in her window had faded almost totally away, 
did someone come to take her from her cell. 

It was a room with one wall that opened fully onto a garden filled with 
greenery and fountains, a cool oasis amid the stark whitewashed walls of the 
house. Michelle was led up to a man who stood at the edge of the garden 
feeding bits of fruit to a small monkey. She was made to kneel and had to 
wait until the man was finished with his pet. Which gave her a chance to 
observe the man she assumed was her new owner. He was middle aged, fat, 
bearded and wore a gold ring on nearly every finger. His dark eyes held 
amusement when he teased the monkey, holding bits of choice fruit above its 
head to make it reach high. But they turned to cold, hard orbs when his 
attention turned to his newest slavegirl. 

"Welcome to my country," he said with a cultured English accent. "You know, 
of course, that you are my property now. You will instantly obey any orders 
given you by anyone in this place. Instantly and without question. Is that 
understood?" 

"Yes, Master," Michelle said for the first time in her life. 

Abdul said nothing for a few seconds. "Mistress Marla tells me that you are 
a natural slavegirl, that you gain satisfaction from being controlled by a 
master. Well, I hope," he said with an evil leer, "that you like pain. 
American woman are too arrogant. It is right that a man should punish such a 
woman." He casually reached out and took one nipple between finger and 
thumb. The pinch was hard and hurt. Michelle flinched but did not cry out. 

Abdul tossed the last piece of apple to the monkey then said, "Come with me. 
I have something to show you." 

The something was Sandy. In a corner of the garden was an area marked by 
four stout posts. Strung out between the post in a spread-eagle, face down, 
was Sandy, her head bowed and the long blonde hair hanging down almost to 
the ground. Each of her limbs was caught in rope and pulled very tightly to 
one of the posts. In addition, clamps were secured to her nipples and 
weights hung from small chains attached to those clamps, pulling her breasts 
from their normal lovely shape. She was naked and bore marks on her back, 
bottom and legs from whips, both fresh and old. She did not look up when 
they came up to her. 

"I believe you know this slave," Abdul said. "Lift your head up, slave." 

Sandy lifted her head and peered through blonde hair. "No... 

the tightness of the padding pressing in on her whole body. The darkness was 
complete, she could only the tiny flashes of light and vague shapes the 
originated within the human eye. She could hear very little through the 
padding and doubted that any noise she could make would be heard outside the 
box. Breathing was a bit strained but possible. There were small 
screen-covered air holes around her head where just enough air came through 
for her to stay alive. 

Finally the tiny noises stopped and she could no longer feel the small 
changes of her box as Henry drove in die screws. The silence lengthened and 
she guessed that Henry had left the room. In the blackness and tightness of 
her box, Michelle felt both fear and excitement. She had to curse that 
perverse part of her that found this treatment exciting, but could not deny 
it's existence. She had come to realize that helplessness was a stimulus to 
her, it excited her and kindled a fire within her loins. And this was nearly 
the most perfect helplessness she had ever experienced or could imagine. 
Nothing could move, everything felt squeezed. And there wasn't a damned 
thing she could do about it. 

A while later she felt her box picked up and carried somewhere then set 
down. A while after that it was again picked up and set down. Then there 
were movements that were not like those when someone carried her and she 
assumed that she was in a truck or van being driven someplace. 

Michelle tried to follow what was happening to her but lost track after what 
she thought might have been being loaded into an airplane. There was motions 
but it didn't sound like a jet airplane. Only when her ears popped did she 
feel certain that she was in an airplane gaining altitude. But traveling in 
what direction and to where she had no idea. She was a slavegirl reduced to 
cargo. 

Michelle had been, in turns, cold, hot, thirsty, hungry, scared, lonely, and 
had to go to the bathroom. The trip seemed to go on forever. There were 
times when her mind seemed to wander off into some other world, a world in 
which there was nothing save the darkness and pressure against her from all 
sides. Perhaps she slept, perhaps not. Memories faded in and out, like 
dreams. 

At some point she stopped trying to guess what was happening to her box. So 
it was a surprise when she heard the unmistakable sound of the lid being 
lifted off and felt the padding that had been pressing against her breasts 
disappear. After a few more moments she felt the straps holding her down 
being unbuckled and was finally lifted out of the box. Several hands held 
her in a standing position while the ropes were taken from her arms and 
legs. Which was good because she would not have been able to stand on her 
own. When the blindfold was lifted she had to close her eyes against what 
seemed like an intense light blasting her in the face. Very slowly she 
squinted until she was able to make out the shapes of people around her and 
very bright sunlight pouring in a windows. The shapes slowly formed into two 
men wearing robes of white. One was holding her up while the other finished 
removing the ropes from her limbs. She was vaguely aware of her arms being 
pulled behind her and secured with handcuffs but could not feel for they 
were totally numb from the prolonged and rather tight bondage. With the 
removal of the gag she understood why it had been so long before Erika had 
been able to speak. The muscles at the base of her jaw ached terribly and 
would not obey. 

She was helped to a sitting position on a chair. Her arms were beginning to 
prick with the pins and needles of returning circulation. When a glass of 
water was held up to her lips, she realized that her mouth was dry. It was 
hard to swallow but she drained the glass with a thirst she hadn't realized 
she had. That was one clue that she had been in the box a long time, perhaps 
a day or more. 4 For a few minutes she was left alone while the men gathered 
up the ropes and other "packing materials", tossed them in the box, and 
replaced the lid. Michelle had a chance to study the men and her 
surroundings. The men had Arabic features and dark complexions. Their robes 
reminded Michelle of something straight out of Lawrence of Arabia, so she 
was not surprised when she looked out the window to see sand dunes 
stretching off into the distance. Then hope flared as she realized that 
might mean she was now the property of Sheik Abdul Hassin and therefore 
reunited with Sandy. But that hope dimmed to nothing as she remembered what 
Henry had said about the sheik hating Americans and being very cruel to any 
American woman he could get his hands on. 

After a while one of the men barked an order at her. She could not 
understand the language but the meaning was clear and she stood to be led 
out of that room. She and her captor descended stairs and Michelle hoped 
that she would soon see Sandy. But the cell she was led to was empty. Oddly, 
it was very much like the cells in Marla's basement dungeon. Perhaps they 
both bought their prison equipment from the same manufacturer. 

Shortly after the door was locked behind her, it was opened again, this time 
to admit an older female carrying a tray of food. The tray was left on the 
bench beside her and no attempt made to unlock her hands from behind her 
back. Michelle noticed that there was no silverware, and knew she was 
expected to eat as best she could with no hands. The rice was flavored with 
something she had never tasted before and the other plate held what looked 
to her like the Greek dish of lamb wrapped in grape leaves. But she was very 
hungry and ate every morsel, licking the plates clean. 

The long afternoon was very hot in her cell. A tiny window up near the 
ceiling gave her no view but it did admit hot, dry air off the desert sands 
above. Michelle reclined on her side on the hard wooden bench after moving 
the tray to the floor. She slept some of the afternoon, a restful, reviving 
sleep unlike the fitful, dream-filled sleep of her traveling box. A dinner 
tray was brought and taken away by the same servant woman. Again not a word 
was said to Michelle, nor did she try to engage the servant in conversation. 
Only later, as the light coming in her window had faded almost totally away, 
did someone come to take her from her cell. 

It was a room with one wall that opened fully onto a garden filled with 
greenery and fountains, a cool oasis amid the stark whitewashed walls of the 
house. Michelle was led up to a man who stood at the edge of the garden 
feeding bits of fruit to a small monkey. She was made to kneel and had to 
wait until the man was finished with his pet. Which gave her a chance to 
observe the man she assumed was her new owner. He was middle aged, fat, 
bearded and wore a gold ring on nearly every finger. His dark eyes held 
amusement when he teased the monkey, holding bits of choice fruit above its 
head to make it reach high. But they turned to cold, hard orbs when his 
attention turned to his newest slavegirl. 

"Welcome to my country," he said with a cultured English accent. "You know, 
of course, that you are my property now. You will instantly obey any orders 
given you by anyone in this place. Instantly and without question. Is that 
understood?" 

"Yes, Master," Michelle said for the first time in her life. 

Abdul said nothing for a few seconds. "Mistress Marla tells me that you are 
a natural slavegirl, that you gain satisfaction from being controlled by a 
master. Well, I hope," he said with an evil leer, "that you like pain. 
American woman are too arrogant. It is right that a man should punish such a 
woman." He casually reached out and took one nipple between finger and 
thumb. The pinch was hard and hurt. Michelle flinched but did not cry out. 

Abdul tossed the last piece of apple to the monkey then said, "Come with me. 
I have something to show you." 

The something was Sandy. In a comer of the garden was an area marked by four 
stout posts. Strung out between the post in a spread-eagle, face down, was 
Sandy, her head bowed and the long blonde hair hanging down almost to the 
ground. Each of her limbs was caught in rope and pulled very tightly to one 
of the posts. In addition, clamps were secured to her nipples and weights 
hung from small chains attached to those clamps, pulling her breasts from 
their normal lovely shape. She was naked and bore marks on her back, bottom 
and legs from whips, both fresh and old. She did not look up when they came 
up to her. 

"I believe you know this slave," Abdul said. "Lift your head up, slave." 

Sandy lifted her head and peered through blonde hair. "No... 

Not you, Michelle," was all she said. She looked as if she had been hanging 
there for quite some time and suffering every second of it. 

Michelle sucked in her breath and wanted to protest. Only fear held her 
tongue. Dangerous waters, she told herself, tread with caution. 

Abdul seemed amused at the internal struggle displayed on Michelle's face. 
"You have been a slave long enough to know that slaves are punished. If they 
do something wrong. If they fail to do sometime ordered of them or expected. 
Or for no reason at all." 

"Yes, Master." 

"You will be punished." 

"Yes, Master." 

"You will learn to live in pain." He seemed happy to be able to say that. 

"Yes, Master." Michelle strained to keep all shades of sarcasm and anger out 
of her voice. 

"And it will start tonight. Mashad, take her to my bedroom." 

As she was being led away, Michelle glanced back to see that Sandy's head 
was again drooping as she hung limp in her bounds. It tugged at her heart to 
see her friend so mistreated but she dared not complain. Even a plea for 
mercy might only make matters worse. 

The sheik's bedroom was furnished in a hodge-podge of English and French 
provincial antiques. The bed was an old four-poster which clashed with the 
gold on white of a night stand beside it. There was a carpet at the end of 
the bed and it was on that Michelle was made to stand. Her wrists were 
unlocked from the handcuffs only to be bound with rope before her. Several 
feet of the rope was left trailing down to the carpet after the guard 
finished wrapping cinch windings around the main rope around the wrists. He 
then pulled over a chair and stood on it with Michelle's rope in one hand. 
Looking up she saw the metal hook in the ceiling as he reached for it. Her 
rope was passed over it and back down to her wrists. Twice that was done, 
then the man pulled on the rope, slowly lifting Michelle's hands over her 
head. But he did not stop when she was on tip-toes. When he tied the final 
knot at the hook, Michelle's toes were a good foot off the floor. He 
replaced the chair and left. 

Michelle felt around with her fingers but could not reach the knots. And 
with all her weight pulling on the rope joining her wrists, there was no 
hope of loosening anything. She could only hang and await her fate at the 
hands of a man who hated her for the country she was born in. 

The wait was not long. Another girl was brought in, also an American from 
her looks, a teenager, young and innocent looking. She was dressed in a 
baggy pair of silk pants and a length of chain joining her wrists in front 
of her. The chain ended in true shackles to embrace her wrists, slender 
silver bands but quite sturdy enough to hold her prisoner. The girl's back 
and small but pert breasts were covered with bruises and fading whip marks. 
The blonde teenager knelt on the floor with arms at her sides, the chain 
joining her hands laying across her thighs. After a minute she looked around 
and, seeing no one, hurried to her feet. She stood before Michelle with 
pleading eyes. "Listen, we've got to get out of this place! Get to the 
American Embassy, tell someone. This man is crazy. He'll wind up killing all 
of us." Her frantic pleas were cut short when she realized that someone 
stood behind her. It was Abdul. With a cry of alarm the teenage girl fell to 
a kneeling position on the floor and bowed her head. "Little slavegirl, what 
am I to do with you?" Abdul asked, shaking his head. "Constantly you are 
trying to escape. Constantly you are begging to be set free. Constantly you 
are complaining. That American Embassy you think so highly of is across two 
hundred of desert. And this new slavegirl? What did you think she could do 
for you? You are a fool." 

Sally did not answer. Abdul removed his robe and lay back on his bed. Sally 
submissively crawled up on the bed and knelt between his legs. Michelle 
could see his tool was already at full attention, what there was of it. She 
couldn't help but compare it with Henry's fine weapon. And she could smell 
the man from several feet away. She doubted if he was familiar with the 
beneficial effects of bathing. 

Another man entered the room. Michelle thought he was the same guard who had 
taken her to Abdul but could not be sure. All she could be sure of was the 
wicked looking whip in his hand. It was no riding crop but a braided leather 
thong. She instantly feared it and felt her mouth go dry at the thought of 
what it might do to her. 

The guard took position behind her and began her whipping without preamble. 
This must have been a scene often repeated for all the actors played their 
rolls without orders or conversation. The guard began a cruel lashing of the 
skin of Michelle's bottom. Sally took Abdul's tool in her mouth and began to 
work it skillfully Abdul smiled and watched Michelle's face all the time. 

The whipping began at her bottom but extended up her back and down to her 
thighs. The whip was terrible, and felt like it was cutting her flesh to 
ribbons, though in reality no blood was being shed. But Michelle's flesh was 
turning red and purples as the slender whip kissed her again and again. And 
she danced after the first dozen strokes, her legs kicking out and jerking 
around. Abdul must have loved the pain contorted features of Michelle's face 
for he looked at nothing else, even when she kicked out at her attacker. The 
only sound in the room was the snick of the whip and the moans of the 
hanging nudity. But soon enough there was added the sounds of pain beyond 
holding in when Michelle began screaming with each cruel stroke. 

The guard worked her back side over very well, then moved to one side to 
mark up her flank. But the loudest screams of all came when he lashed 
squarely across one breast. At the same time Abdul gave out with a strangled 
cry and had his climax in Sally's mouth. Quickly the guard lashed both 
breasts with a series of hard blows that immediately began turning her 
creamy smooth skin into multicolored welts. Michelle screamed continuously, 
tapering off to sobs only when the whip ceased it's torture. The whipping of 
her breasts had been for Abdul's sake that he might enjoy his climax to the 
maximum. And he did. 

Eventually Abdul was finished. He waited while Sally licked his tool clean 
then literally kicked her out of bed. "Mashad, I have had enough of this 
slavegirl's demanding and complaining. Take her to the dungeon and have her 
tongue cut out. Then give her to the soldiers at El Armin. They will know 
what to do with her. And she won't bother them with constant pleas to be 
taken to the American Embassy." 

"OH!" cried Sally. "No...! Wait! I'm sorry! I won't ever do it again!" Her 
cries could be heard as she was dragged off by Mashad. 

Michelle couldn't believe what she had seen. Abdul, on the other hand, seem 
unconcerned about the terrible disfigurement he had just ordered. 

Abdul pulled a light sheet over himself, turned off the light, and turned 
over to go to sleep. Michelle hung in the dark and tried to keep in her 
sobbing. She was crying not only from the pain of the whipping but because 
she was sure she had been condemned to hell. 

Having spent the night bound in the bedroom of her mistress many times, 
Michelle knew this game and its rules. She would have to be as quiet as 
possible. If she awoke her mistress... make that master, she would be 
punished. As if the whipping were not enough. So she hung there and was 
miserable. 

Morning comes early on the desert. Michelle was awaken by a body pressing 
against hers. It was light in the bedroom and Abdul was gone. It was Mashad 
who was untying her hands as he stood on the chair. When Michelle lowered 
her hands she found that they were an ugly, deep purple color and she had no 
feeling in them. When the ropes came off, it was a long time before feeling 
returned, and then it was terrible pain from nerves awakening and screaming 
in agony. Michelle lay on the carpet and cried as her hands returned to 
life. 

Breakfast was a simple meal served in her cell. Surprisingly her fingers 
worked well enough for her to eat breakfast. She had feared permanent 
damage. After breakfast she was taken again to the presence of Abdul. This 
time he was seated behind a massive oak desk in what was obviously an 
office. He still wore the desert robe of his fathers but all else was 
completely modern right down to the fax machine in the comer and the 586 PC 
sitting on his desk. 

Michelle had to stand before him for a long time as he worked on a pile of 
papers. But eventually he acknowledged her presence by getting up and going 
to the window. "The desert is a hard place to live," he said. Michelle was 
uncertain if he was talking to her or himself so she said nothing. "It makes 
you strong or it kills you." 

He turned to her. "I said you will feel pain here. By the delightful whip 
marks, I see that you have. But," he held up a finger, "there will be more." 

Michelle was taken outside where the morning sun had already heated the sand 
so it burnt the bottoms of her feet. The air was very dry so the heat didn't 
feel too bad. Not yet. It was only mid-morning. 

Sandy was brought along. Like Michelle, she was naked and covered with whip 
marks. Her hands were bound before her with rope. A guard unlocked 
Michelle's hands from the handcuffs and bound them before her with rope. The 
deep rope marks from her night of hanging around Abdul's bedroom were still 
there when the new rope was wound over them. Again there was a length of 
rope trailing from her wrists when the knots were tied. A length of perhaps 
ten feet. 

The small party was standing besides the house. Before them was rough flat 
ground littered with small rocks. A little beyond that were sand dunes, 
their smooth surfaces rippled with wind marks. 

"My ancestors," began Abdul with his cultured English accent, "used to do 
this with camels. But I am more modem. We will use a jeep." 

Right on cue a jeep came around the comer of the house. It looked like 
something from a desert war movie except that it was painted a bright pink. 
Even the spare tire in back was pink. "There is very little pink out here. I 
like the color," explained Abdul. 

The driver of the jeep came around and took Michelle's hanging rope. He tied 
it to a bar welded across the back of the jeep. Then he tied Sandy's rope to 
it also. 

"You will be driven out into the desert. Only a mile or so." Abdul was 
casual as he described their next torture. "You may walk on the trip out. 
Retief will drive slowly. But on the trip back..." He laughed, and his laugh 
sent shiver down Michelle's spine. Abdul jumped into the jeep as did the 
driver. 

The drive was slow enough at first so the girls had no problem keeping up. 
They headed straight out across the low sand dunes. The sand burnt their 
bare feet. 

"Oh, Michelle, I'm so sorry that you had to come here," bemoaned Sandy in a 
low voice. Neither girl was gagged but they kept their voices low for fear 
that talking might be a punishable offense. 

"Is this man really as terrible as he seems," said Michelle. "I mean, like 
did he really have that Sally's tongue cut out like he said last night?" 

"Sally was taken away this morning. I heard her scream last night just 
before they cut out her tongue. Oh, Michelle, don't think for one minute 
this man is not for real. He loves to torture us." 

"Henry said so but I didn't believe him." 

"Henry! You talked to Henry." Sandy's spirit seemed to pick up a little at 
the mention of Mistress Marla's servant. 

"Yesterday. Or the day before. Yes, I guess it was the day before 
yesterday." For a few seconds Michelle said nothing, debating her next words 
for fear that they would hurt Sandy rather than make her feel better. "He 
really likes you. He said you were 'special'." 

Sandy emitted a tiny whine of mental anguish. Michelle decided not to tell 
her that Henry and she had sex. Sandy was suffering enough. 

"When I first got here there was another slavegirl, an American named 
Markie. He has about a dozen slavegirls but four are Americans. Most of the 
others he simply uses for sex and sometimes punishes. But us he really has 
it in for." 

"But why?" 

"First off, you have to understand that Abdul isn't really a sheik. A sheik 
is a leader of his people, like a chief of the Indians. Abdul is simply a 
man who became rich selling oil to Americans. A number of years ago he moved 
to America. He liked the rain and snow of California. I guess even LA is 
nice compared to this place. Well, he met an American girl and they got 
married. But when he decided to start building his harem by adding a teenage 
bimbo he met at a bar, his wife was upset. She divorced him and the court 
awarded her plenty. It was a messy divorce. Perhaps you remember it from the 
papers. After that he moved back here, and hates all American women. He's 
been getting back at his first wife ever since." 

Michelle didn't know what to say. She and Sandy would be tortured daily 
because this guy is pissed off at this first wife. It would have been 
comical had it not been so painful. 

About then the jeep halted. Abdul stood up to address his slavegirls. "I 
read somewhere that a human can run at about twenty-five miles per hour. 
This jeep can run faster than that. I hope you can run very fast. But even 
if you fall the jeep will not stop." 

Michelle felt the hot sand on the soles of her feet and groaned. But she had 
little time to contemplate the possibilities for the jeep started up again, 
this time fast enough to keep them at a jog. A couple minutes of that and 
the speed increased to a run. Abdul keep his attention on them, grinning at 
them as they struggled to keep up. 

But while human muscles tire, a jeep does not. Soon both Michelle and Sandy 
were gasping for breath and stumbling along, sometimes remaining on their 
feet only with help from the same rope that threatened to drag them. Sandy 
was the first to fall. The jeep did not slow, just as Abdul had promised. 
Sandy was being dragged over the hot sand, crying out in pain. Michelle 
longed to help her friend but there was nothing she could do. 

Michelle's muscles burned and her legs began to feel like lead. A sharp pain 
stabbed her in the side. She was almost grateful when a stumble jerked her 
to the left and made her fall. At least the running was over. Quickly she 
discovered it was hard to keep from getting sand in her eyes and mouth. Then 
she found that the hot sand was most unpleasant against her skin as the jeep 
dragged them both on its bumpy journey. 

Next to her she could hear Sandy crying out over and over, "Please... 
Please..." She felt like screaming herself. 

It seemed like they were dragged for an hour but suddenly it was over. The 
jeep stopped at the edge of the sand dunes not far from the house. Both 
girls lay there, panting and moaning. It felt as if their skin had been 
rubbed away by the gritty sand, and their flesh burned. Neither had the 
strength to stand. 

Michelle felt herself being picked up and carried. She had closed her eyes 
in an effort to keep the sand out of them and continued that now. Suddenly 
she was being dropped and a split second later there was the feel of cool 
water all around her. Sputtering and coughing, she managed to gain her feet 
to find herself standing in the shallow end of a swimming pool. She 
gratefully used the water to clean sand out of her mouth and eyes. 

A minute later Sandy was carried up and dropped into the pool. Michelle 
helped her get her feet under her. The water felt good against all those 
places where her skin felt raw. They were allowed a few minutes to get the 
sand off then ordered out. Michelle found herself standing beside a pool 
straight out of a California mansion. Around the pool lounged half a dozen 
women of different nationalities, all naked and all wearing a silver chain 
joining their wrists in front of them. But the chains were more symbolic 
than actual restraints because they were long enough to not impede anything 
the girls wished to do. They were laughing at Sandy and Michelle. 

"The harem," said Sandy. "Oh, but my breasts hurt. Notice no American girls 
in the bunch. We don't get to lounge around the pool. We get tortured." 

Before Michelle could reply, the ropes still tied to their wrists were 
picked up by a guard and they were pulled away, their eventual destination a 
dungeon-like room beneath the house. There the ropes were taken off and 
handcuffs used to lock their arms behind them. 

Lunch was a plate of apple slices and a jug of water, but Michelle was glad 
for it and glad that she was again with Sandy. They were left alone in a 
cell, so they could talk all they wanted it. 

"I heard that Abdul is not really one of those filthy rich sheiks. He's only 
worth about two hundred million. Peanuts by their standards. He has this 
house and about a dozen house staff and another dozen slavegirls," Sandy 
explained between bites of apple. "Of course the number of slavegirls 
varies. He's hard on the Americans, as you can see." 

They talked about other things but eventually both fell asleep on the 
benches. Michelle had not slept much as she hung in Abdul's bedroom, and 
Sandy had, it turned out, spent the entire night suspended in the horizontal 
spread-eagle in the garden. That in addition to having spent most of the 
whole day-there. 

That night Sandy had to take the place of the missing Sally and perform the 
odious task of oral sex upon Abdul while Michelle hung upside down from that 
hook in his ceiling. Fortunately she didn't have to spend the entire night 
hanging upside down, only an hour or so while Abdul enjoyed the oral 
attentions of the blonde American stave. Of course it wasn't as easy as it 
might have been, there was attached to her flesh about a hundred 
clothespins, so many of them covering her breasts that they looked like 
pincushions, the rest jiggling from the flesh of her bottom and that soft 
flesh around her pussy. It was not a pleasant time for her. 

 10 

Death Sentence 

Each day in the desert brought it's own tortures. Never were Sandy's or 
Michelle's bodies free of bruises and whip marks. Never did they have more 
than a few minutes rest. In addition to often serving Abdul in his bedroom, 
one being tortured while the other performed oral sex, both the girls were 
forced to "service" the other harem slavegirls. And occasionally they were 
given to one or more of the male house servants to whip or use as he wished. 

It was not a pleasant time for either of them. Then came the day that 
Michelle made a big mistake. It was in the third week of their slavery under 
Sheik Abdul Hassin. Michelle had just been whipped across the breasts and 
was crying as she hung by her wrists from the hook in his bedroom ceiling. 
Sandy lay on the floor by his bed, head bowed but unshackled other than by 
handcuffs, in front because the sheik liked to have her hold his balls while 
she sucked on his penis. Sandy was silent but Michelle could tell that she 
was feeling miserable for the shame of what she was forced to do. And while 
her best friend was hanging and being tortured. 

Abdul was out of the room, in the adjoining bathroom, doing something. 
Michelle, as she hung with toes a dozen inches from the carpet, was feeling 
pretty miserable. Her breasts hurt but that was not unusual, most parts of 
her hurt. But she was beginning to realize that his might go on for a very 
long time, and the prospect of endless days and nights of torture was too 
much to take. 

Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, there was a creaking noise and 
Michelle felt a little jerk. Looking up she could see the plaster around the 
hook cracking. Then, with a louder crack the hook came out of the ceiling 
and she fell to the carpet, landing on her feet. For a few seconds she stood 
there stunned, her slave-trained brain wondering if she would be punished 
for breaking the torture equipment. Her hands were still tied and the heavy 
metal hook dangled from the rope, hitting her knees. 

Then several things happened almost instantly. Abdul walked back into the 
room. The wild idea struck Michelle that perhaps this was a chance at 
freedom. Sandy looked up with sad eyes to behold her friend and Abdul both 
standing there with surprise on their faces. Michelle looked up into Abdul's 
eyes only a few feet away and made up her mind. Mostly of instinct she swung 
her body to the right then brought her hands up and swung back to the left 
as hard as she could. The metal hook swung out at the end of its tether in 
an arc to land squarely along the side of Abdul's head. He went down without 
a sound. 

Michelle stood there panting, eyes wild with excitement and heart thudding 
in her chest. She looked up from the prostrate form of their owner into the 
eyes of Sandy and saw, for the first time in a very long time, a glimmer of 
hope. 

"Let's go," was all she said. Sandy nodded. Both girls fled the room, crept 
carefully down the hallway. They made it to the kitchen which, fortunately, 
was deserted at that time of night. Helped only by moonlight coming through 
a window, Sandy worked loose the knots of Michelle's rope, finally freeing 
her hands. But there was nothing they could do for the steel handcuffs on 
Sandy. 

"The only chance is to get a jeep and make it across the desert before they 
know we're gone," whispered Michelle. 

"Is he dead?" asked Sandy. 

"I certainly hope so. Look, let's hope the keys are in the ignitions." 

The keys were not in the ignitions. They were all neatly hanging from small 
hooks on a board over a desk in one corner of the garage. It was not hard to 
figure out which one went to which jeep, they were all numbered. A small 
piece of tape over the ignition hole on each jeep held the same number as 
the key that fitted it. There was also two land rovers and a stretch limo. 

Michelle considered the land rovers. She wasn't sure of the condition of the 
roads and wondered if a jeep would be better. But then she realized that if 
the limo and land rovers got in here, they could certainly get out. She took 
the time to check the gas tanks. All were full except the pink jeep. Which 
was no problem as they would not have chosen that one anyway. Too many bad 
memories. 

Since they were naked and she didn't know if they would be driving after the 
sun came up, Michelle chose one of the land rovers. While she was doing all 
that, Sandy was letting the air out of the tire on the limo. Then she did 
the same service for all the jeeps and the other land rover. It wouldn't 
stop pursuit but it would slow them down. 

The main door was on an automatic opener, turned on by a button. It would 
make noise, Michelle was sure, perhaps enough to rouse the household. Then 
pursuit would surely follow. And those people knew the roads, she did not. 
For a few seconds she sat there, thinking. 

"Come on, let's get going," urged Sandy.  "Wait. Got to do something." 
Michelle got out of the land rover and looked around. The moonlight was 
bright but not enough to enable her to find what she was looking for. But it 
did reveal a flashlight, and that helped her find a map in the glove 
compartment. Surprisingly it was in English but didn't help much. She could 
see several cities plainly marked but she didn't know where she was on the 
map. But at least she had a map. If she could get away and find some kind of 
road marker perhaps she could tell where she was. 

Her second goal was easier. There was plenty of gas around, mostly stored in 
large cans. She made a fuse out of a rag and stuffed it in the open top of 
one gas can. Then she found a book of matches. She was about to light the 
fuse when she remembered something else. The water can attached to the back 
of the land rover was full, and that alleviated one worry. Back at the gag 
cans, she lit the oily rag and ran for the door. 

The opener did make noise as it cranked up the heavy metal door. Michelle 
sat in the driver's seat with the engine running, anxious for the door to 
clear enough so she could get away. She could see the flickering light from 
the burning rag behind her and knew that if the gas went up before she got 
out of there, they wouldn't have to worry about being slaves anymore. 

The roof of the land rover lost some paint as it scraped the bottom of the 
door but they made it out with a whole second to spare before the garage 
went up in a huge fireball. The shock shook the land rover but it continued 
on, throwing rocks and sand up behind it. 

Michelle switched on the headlights and followed what looked like the only 
road leading away. The whole desert around them glowed in the orange light 
from the merrily burning structure. "That," she said to Sandy, "will slow 
them down more than letting air out of their tires." 

"Yeah..." Sandy's voice was filled with admiration. 

After being lost several times, the two escaped slaves finally got on a road 
that the map said would lead them to a city large enough to have probably 
have an American Embassy. Or some American company that might help fellow 
countrymen or women stranded in a strange land. 

It would have been nice to report that they made it safely to the embassy 
and were given sanctuary, along with some clothes. But truth is they were 
stopped miles from the city by the military police who immediately took them 
back to Abdul Hassin's. There were, after all, escaped slaves in a land 
where slavery is legal. 

Sheik Abdul Kassin was pissed off. He stormed around the naked forms of 
Sandy and Michelle as they stood quivering in the middle of his office. They 
were still naked since the military policemen seemed to prefer them that 
way. And they were both firmly shackled with handcuffs behind their backs, 
leg irons with very short chains between the ankles, and metal collars 
padlocked on the necks. 

"You have destroyed my garage," he fumed. Michelle did notice the burnt 
smell that filled even the house. "You destroyed jeeps and land rovers. You 
destroyed my limo!" He glared at Michelle. "And you nearly killed me," he 
spat as he pointed an accusing finger at the large bandage on the side of 
his head. 

For quite a while he ranted and raved about stupid, dangerous females, and 
how all the trouble he's had in life came from females, and how they should 
all be lined up, whipped, and then shot. But finally he calmed down enough 
to pronounce sentence upon them. 

"You American's have an expression that fits this. Do you know what 'Dead 
Meat' means? Well, that is what you are: dead meat. In this country the 
penalty for attacking an owner is death." 

Sandy swallowed hard and Michelle sucked in her breath. But it was not 
unexpected. This was a harsh country and a harsh man. 

"The only problem is how to do it. Shooting is too good for you - too fast. 
Hanging would be nice. But too fast again. I want something very slow - 
painfully slow. Know what I mean?" 

"Could we die of old age? That's slow," quipped Sandy. 

Abdul's eyebrow went up in surprise. "You face death and you joke? American 
women are crazy. And their men even crazier for tolerating them. Allah give 
me strength!" 

The girls were dragged down to the dungeon so Abdul could sleep on it. In 
the morning he would tell them of his choice for their deaths. But, in the 
meantime, they were not to spend a comfortable night. Each girl's arms were 
tightly bound behind their backs with thin cord and then lashed to their 
bodies with barred wire. Then they were hung upside down by the ankles for 
the night. 

The next morning both of them had terrible headaches but otherwise seemed to 
have endured their ordeal without serious injury. The barred wire was peeled 
off them, leaving tiny puncture marks here and there, but their arms were 
left bound behind them. Then they were taken before their owner. 

"I have decided," Abdul said grandly, "that first I will have every bone in 
your bodies broken." 

They were taken out to a place behind the house were several posts were 
stuck in the ground. The posts had metal rings screwed into the wood and 
both girls were rebound, this time with each spread-eagle between two posts. 
The ropes had been pulled as tight as possible before being knotted and both 
girls felt like they were being pulled apart. It was also a very obscene 
exposure of their private parts but being exposed before men was the least 
of their worries right then. From where they were bound, the girls could see 
the still smoldering garage trickling black smoke into the desert air. 

"My men have metal bars. They will begin with your legs and break every bone 
in them. They will work slowly. They will break each bone in as many places 
as they can. They will smash your kneecaps. They will work their way up your 
bodies until every bone in every finger is broken." 

Abdul smiled at them, obviously taking delight in their suffering and the 
fear in their eyes. 

"The only bones that will not be touched are your backbones and your skulls. 
That might kill you or render you unconscious. I wish you to feel the pain 
and continue feeling it for a long time. Just like this terrible headache 
you gave me." 

Abdul paused to savor the moment. "And then... And then you will be left 
between those posts until you die. Perhaps that will take a day, perhaps 
several days. Maybe you can last a week. But I doubt that. It is very hot in 
the desert sun. And the nights are cold. I doubt you will last three days. 
But you will suffer. As Allah is my witness, you will suffer." 

He motioned to his two henchmen. "Begin with the bones in their toes." 

The first man took up a position beside Michelle's tautly bound leg. The 
metal bars looked very heavy. He lifted the bar over one shoulder, ready to 
bring it down in an arc which would end at her foot. There was nothing she 
could do about it, no words, no actions, nothing to change fate. She would, 
as Abdul stated, suffer. And suffer greatly. 

For a brief second the scene was frozen, one bar posed to smash a feminine 
foot. Then a loud boom and the metal bar was flying out of the man's hands. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a deep voice from behind Abdul. 
Standing there, with a smoking 357 Magnum in his hands, was Henry. "Nobody 
moves." 

In the anticipation of delightful female pain, no one had noticed Henry and 
two companions walk up to the little group. Both of the men with him were 
black, all wore combat fatigues, and all were armed, the other two with 
wicked looking assault rifles. 

Some people are stupid. One of Abdul's guards reached for his pistol. Before 
he could get the pistol out of its holster, his body was almost cut in two 
by a short burst from one of the assault rifles. 

The rest of them froze. "Oh, Henry!" cried Sandy in delight. 

"I think my heart stopped," said Michelle. The girls were cut down by Henry 
while the others disarmed the men who had planned to torture the girls. 
"What has he done to you?" asked Henry when he got close enough to see all 
the whip marks and bruises covering their bodies. 

Sandy was the first cut down and she collapsed gratefully into his arms. 
Michelle managed to stand on her own but on shaky legs. Too much was 
happening too fast. 

"Come around to the front," Henry. "We'll take their land rover. Bill, Gary, 
secure the prisoners." 

In front there were three dirt bikes, light-weight motorcycles made for 
off-road travel, laying on the ground. There was also the land rover the 
girls had stolen and had been returned along with them. Henry bundled them 
into the land rover. Then he went to the dirt bikes and stacked all three of 
them on top of each other. From his backpack he took a small square package 
which he placed on the gas tank of the top bike. He turned a small dial on 
the package. 

Just then the other two came around the corner, moving with the cat-like 
grace of a professional soldier in dangerous country. They stood guard by 
the land rover, rifles at ready, while Henry disappeared back around the 
house. A few minutes later he returned. All three of them got into the land 
rover and it quickly departed the scene. 

Henry reached into his backpack and produced a small package for each of the 
girls. Inside was a pair of panties, a pair of shorts and a shirt, rather 
manly in style but welcome nevertheless. The girls gratefully dressed. 

"This is the first time in months that I've worn clothes," said Sandy. 
"Feels funny. But after what nearly happened to us, it feels good to be able 
to wear clothes." 

"Thank you, Henry," said Michelle sincerely. "But how did you find us?" 

"I always knew where you were. I've been here before, when Abdul was showing 
his slaves off to Marla. That wasn't the hard part." 

"We have a long trip ahead of us, right?" asked Michelle. "We're all ears." 

"Well, it was really simple. I wanted to get Sandy out of here before that 
madman killed her. But I didn't personally have enough money to buy her, 
even if Abdul would sell her. So I stole the money from Marla." 

"You stole money!" exclaimed Michelle. "And I notice you're not calling her 
'Mistress Marla' anymore." 

"I am no longer working for her. And, yes, I stole all the money I needed. 
She has always kept a large amount of money in the house in cash. She comes 
from a country where the banks aren't too reliable and she trusts gold over 
a bank account. When I counted it later, I found the bagful I got away with 
contained over half a million dollars in gold and cash." 

"Wow!" said Sandy as she rested against Henry's broad shoulders. 

"So you stole the money. Then what?" asked Michelle. 

"I looked up some old friends; that's Gary and that one is Bill. We flew to 
a nearby country where we knew we could buy some weapons. And some dirt 
bikes. Then we stole a helicopter and flew to within a few miles of Abdul's. 
We didn't want to land in his backyard, that would give him too much notice 
of our coming." 

"You stole a helicopter!?" 

"Not too hard when you know how to fly one," said Henry reasonably. 

"I take it you do?" asked Michelle. This was getting more fantastic by the 
minute. 

"Captain Henry Miller, USMC, at your service," he said with more than a 
little hint of pride in his voice. "But Bill flew the choppers, I just rode 
along." 

"And did someone's dirty work?" 

"Yes, Ma'am. We've seen desert warfare in this part of the world before. 
Well, we got into the country by scrapping sand with the landing gear for a 
couple hundred miles, and managed to land without being seen. The dirt bikes 
were modified with bigger mufflers than normal so we wouldn't make so much 
noise coming up. The rest you know." 

Just then there was a small explosion behind them. "That will be the dirt 
bikes. Like to eliminate evidence of our presence." 

"And now we fly back to... To where?" asked Michelle. Sandy seemed content 
to just press herself against Henry and look up into his eyes. 

"Eventually the US. By way of two other countries. But that will be no 
problem. Bribes are a way of life in this part of the world. It got us in, 
it will get you two out." 

"Won't we have trouble getting back into the US? We have no passports." 

"If I have to, I'll just ship you in boxes," Henry said with a smile. 

They came up to the helicopter. It was easily large enough to hold all of 
them and a few extra soldiers, if they had been needed. Once inside, Henry 
put another of those square packages against the gas tank of the land rover. 
Perhaps it needed elimination as evidence. Or perhaps he just liked to blow 
up things. 

The helicopter was noisy but Michelle could make herself heard, at least to 
Henry. "Just two other questions. One, what will happen to Abdul? Won't he 
come looking for you? You did kill one of his men. Not to mention spoiling 
his fun." 

"Abdul will not bother you," he said with confidence. "How can you be sure?" 

"Remember what he was going to do to you?" asked Henry. 

Then he continued without waiting for the answer. "He and his men were 
handcuffed to those posts. Sheik Abdul Hassin was feeling a little broken up 
when I left him." Michelle could imagine. "And he has the chance to watch 
the timer run down on one of my little packages. I figure he's getting 
pretty nervous about now." He grinned. "Not exactly what he was going to do 
to you, but poetic justice nevertheless." 

Michelle did not feel any sorrow at the idea. "Then the second questions is 
what happens when we get back? You got any plans?" 

Henry looked into Sandy's blue eyes and smoothed back a lock of her gold 
hair. "Sandy and I have some talking to do. Maybe we will stay together for 
a while. I still got enough money to buy a house somewhere. Somewhere far 
from Marla. Just in case she's pissed off at my stealing some money and 
leaving her hogtied in her dungeon." 

Michelle thought for a few seconds. "Could I stay with you for a little 
while?" she asked. "I won't try to come between you and Sandy. I love both 
of you too much. But from what I've seen, you're man enough to satisfy more 
than two women. And I have a feeling that Sandy and I will be spending a lot 
of time tied up." 

"You can count on it," Henry assured with a playful smile. 

Michelle settled back in the seat. The vibration of the powerful machine 
around her was a comforting feeling. She loved both Sandy and Henry and 
would do nothing to come between them. They had something special between 
them and there was no way she was going to ruin that. But she also wanted 
some time to think about what was important to her. And to be tied up by 
someone who loves you as an expression of that love. She had the feeling 
that Sandy and she would be tying each other up and giving each other to 
Henry for a while. It would be fun game. And it sounded like fun for she and 
Sandy to be tightly bound by Henry's expert hands and both of them screwed 
for hours on end by that hunk of a man. 

Then she got to thinking that perhaps they could kidnap Rebecca from Marla 
and have a third girl around Henry's house for all of them to play with. Or 
maybe she'd get Henry to kidnap Rebecca just for her. There were a lot of 
possibilities. 

The helicopter raced low over the desert to both freedom and a new, 
wonderful kind of slavery for two girls who loved each other very much. 


THE END
