Chapter Seventeen
Jim brought breakfast and news. When Sarah gave him permission to enter, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed with Kim’s head pillowed on her lap. Kim was still naked, though Sarah had removed the ankle chain, she remained on the floor.
“An assembly has been called,” said Jim. “There will be a public punishment at noon. Master Lestrade has sent word that he would like to speak to Miss Victor this morning if it is convenient.”
“Thank you, Jim. You may go.”
He left. If he had any questions he didn’t voice them.
The women ate in silence. There was so much they both needed to say neither knew where to begin. Kim dressed, even putting on the wig and combing it out. The wig was darker than her own hair had been. She felt as though she were in disguise.
“You won’t leave without saying goodbye?” asked Sarah.
“No. You’ll see me again after I talk to Lestrade.”
Kim sat in Lestrade’s office drinking coffee.
“I would like to apologize for what happened to you,” he said. “Until now, no one has ever come here without their consent, and we have always made certain that they knew what they were getting into. You can be assured that those responsible will be punished.”
“What’s going to happen to them?” asked Kim.
“Jane has violated her oath of allegiance, and she knew the penalty for that before she did it. Charlene bought a one way airline ticket when she came. I have reviewed their psychological profiles and found them very revealing. Both women have a need for extreme chastisement, but lack the courage to ask for it. They needed to commit crimes to make punishment acceptable and just in their own minds. We can’t escape our destiny, Miss Victor. It is a mistake to try.”
Kim wondered about her own destiny, and wished there were a psychological profile of her mind in his files.
“I don’t suppose it will do them any good if I forgive them and speak in their behalf?”
He shook his head. “It’s out of your hands.” He leaned forward. “It is you I want to talk about. Naturally, I want to keep Domain secure. Short of kidnapping you or murdering you I have no way to force you not to expose us and bring criminal charges. I won’t do that. The laws of Domain apply even to its rulers. I can arrange transportation for you in an hour, and take you anywhere you want to go, but first I would like to make you an offer.
“Domain has vast resources behind it, and we would pay a very high price for your silence. You can live in luxury anywhere in the world. All I ask is that you forgive us and keep our secret safe.”
Kim remembered Aunt Sarah and Uncle Emil. They had put her through ten weeks of hell and bought her silence with tuition checks. History was repeating itself.
“The staff at the training center report you made an excellent subject, by the way.” He spoke now to fill the silence as she thought about his offer. “If you wish, you could remain here as a Mistress, a slave, or an honored guest. You could negotiate a contract, and I don’t have to tell you that you have most of the bargaining chips.”
“How much time do I have to think about it?”
“All the time you wish.” He looked at his watch, “I have only another half hour, however. There is an appointment I cannot miss. Perhaps you would like to think it over and discuss this again tomorrow.” He started to rise from his chair.
“Wait,” she said. “I know what I want.”
***
Jim pulled the rickshaw carrying Sarah to the City Square. Forty eight, leashed to the back of the rickshaw, marched behind. Her wrists were bound behind her and secured to the chastity belt she wore. Buried inside her were two dildoes shifting with every step she took. She knew her Mistress was troubled, but not why. Mistress Gyve had been silent all morning, and when Jim tried to give her a massage, she had waved him away impatiently. Forty-eight had never seen her Mistress like this and it frightened her.
The entire population of Domain was assembled at the square. The scaffolding had become center stage of a theatre in the round. The empty upright posts seemed expectant. A microphone had been placed on the stage along with a covered utility cart. Chairs had been arranged in a circle, leaving a broad aisle from the scaffold to the front door of the training center.
Every chair had a cushion on the ground in front of it. Slaves occupied the cushions. Some were kneeling, some were on hands and knees, acting as human foot rests for their Masters, some had their heads busy between the legs of their owners.
Jim stopped the rickshaw when he spotted empty seats. Sarah got out and took forty eight’s leash.
“Join us after you find a parking place,” she told Jim. “I want you to see this.”
Jim wanted to see it too, and hurried off. Sarah scanned the faces in the crowd before she sat down, hoping to see Kim. She was afraid the girl had suddenly come to her senses and headed out as fast as possible. If she had looked back at all, it was to make sure that there was no pursuit. Sarah reflected that the love Kim professed was really just the survival reaction her training fostered. As soon as it wore off, she would see that she owed nothing to Sarah except contempt. Sarah gave herself a mental slap, telling herself to sit down and stop acting like a schoolgirl.
She sat, directing forty-eight to the cushion before her. When Jim arrived, she patted the chair beside her. As a leather collared slave, he was allowed to sit in chairs with permission. Sarah generally indulged him. It made forty eight’s posture more humiliating. Jim was just sitting down when the rest of the crowd leaped to its feet with a cheer.
The doors to the training center had opened.
Lestrade came first, smiling and waving. Sarah was amused. Lestrade loved public appearances. Behind him was the Whipmaster.
The prisoners came last. Charlene and Jane were escorted by six burly guards, an unnecessary precaution, since neither girl could have run. Their hands were behind them, secured with thick metal shackles extending halfway to their elbows. Their ankles wore similar bindings. The chains between their ankles were about a foot and a half long, and the links were huge. Just walking was awkward.
Jane was completely nude. Stripped of her collar, she was stripped of rank. Charlene was barefoot. Her shoes and stockings had been taken so that the leg irons could be put on. Other than that, she was still dressed in the rumpled clothing she had arrived in. Both women had red, puffy faces from a night of weeping, and it was obvious in their eyes they held no hope of mercy.
Lestrade mounted the scaffold and went to the microphone.
“Masters and Mistresses,” he boomed, “guards and slaves. We have assembled here to see justice done. Probably everyone here has heard by now that a young woman was duped into coming here by conspirators bent on revenge. One of these conspirators has met an accidental death far from here. One of them was a Class B slave working here in Domain. She is here now.” He turned and swept his arm toward Jane, who was being propelled toward the upright posts, her chains clattering, a small, naked girl among large men.
“She has been found guilty of assisting in a kidnapping, falsifying documents, and betraying her oath of allegiance to Domain. Her sentence begins now.”
As he spoke, Jane’s hands were unshackled, only to be refastened over her head between the posts. A moment later, her legs had been spread and fastened as well. The guards went back over her bindings, drawing out slack until her toes barely touched the scaffold and the heavy ropes holding her were humming with tension. She was spread out helplessly, unable to cover herself or turn aside.
“The Whipmaster will administer one hundred lashes, sparing no area of her body. Then she will be taken into the training center for a period of six months. In June she will be branded and sold.”
There was enthusiastic applause, and Sarah could hear hecklers shouting obscenities at the slave. Public whipping was hard punishment simply because the victim’s pain and humiliation was seen by all. Sarah had no doubt there would be people in this audience who would be checking their calendars and saving their money toward auction day. Jane’s screams would advertise her. This would be her “coming out” party.
An expectant hush fell over the crowd as the Whipmaster stepped forward and lifted the towel that covered the cart. The audience was too low to see the devices he had brought with him today, but those who were able to look at Jane’s face could see her eyes grow wide with horror.
He selected a cat and went to work.
Charlene stood behind Jane, flanked by guards. When the first blow fell, a vicious upward swing between Jane’s legs, Charlene tried to turn her head away. A guard grabbed a handful of her hair and roughly forced her head back to face front. Watching her sister being whipped was part of Charlene’s punishment, and they wanted her to see it all.
The Whipmaster knew how to make a victim’s suffering most intense. His pattern was random. Jane might otherwise pick up a rhythm and brace herself for the coming blows. He would slash her savagely in an unexpected place, then pause. Her screams would fade to whimpers and she would hang, panting, until she was surprised by a series of quick strokes.
He changed implements from time to time, always selecting lighter and less damaging whips for the breasts and genitals.
It was Jane’s bottom that absorbed the worst of it, however. He knew she could stand heavy treatment there. He warmed the area with a wooden paddle before switching to a light, flexible fiberglass rod that left deep purple lines in its wake. The crowd began a murmured chant, which grew slowly louder. When Sarah realized they were counting the strokes out loud she joined in.
The count reached ninety and the Whipmaster paused to look out at the audience. Jane hung, bathed in sweat and breathing heavily with hoarse, trembling sobs. She was lost in pain.
The Whipmaster pointed to her breasts and addressed the audience. “Here?” he shouted. He was asking them to vote on which area they wanted the last ten blows to land on. There was a scatter of applause. He walked around behind her and indicated her bottom. This brought more applause. Returning to the front, he cupped Jane’s sex with his hand. The cheers swelled this time and rose to a roar as he nodded and raised the leather cat.
He struck the ten blows quickly, hitting up and down as Jane writhed. She arched her back and turned her toes in, trying desperately to close her legs and tuck in her hips, but there was no avoiding the cruel whip.
The Whipmaster tossed the cat down on the cart and picked up a chastity belt. The crowd cheered again as they recognized a familiar ritual. He buckled the device around Jane’s striated waist, leaving the crotch strap open. Then he picked up a large dildo and pressed it home. Jane moaned, and Sarah wondered how long it had been since Jane’s vagina had been penetrated. He oiled a plug and held it aloft for the crowd to see before forcing it into her rear opening. Jane’s cry was sharper now. She was no doubt still sore from her impalement the night before. The chastity belt was closed and locked. The Whipmaster pushed a penis gag into her mouth and strapped it in, then he stepped back and indicated to the guards she was ready to come down.
The message of her triple penetration was clear to all. Jane was now available to everyone in every way. She was a Class A slave. Freed from her bindings, Jane collapsed. A burly guard threw her limp body over his shoulder and carried her into the training center.
Lestrade stepped up to the microphone again.
“There was a third party involved in this plot,” he said.
Charlene fought a hopeless battle against superior strength and numbers as she was dragged to the posts and fastened with bindings still damp with her sister’s sweat.
“This woman has a greater guilt. She corrupted her own sister, and tricked a woman into taking her place as a Class A slave. Her punishment will be extreme. She will be given a hundred lashes today, and a hundred more a week from today. Her sentence in the training center will be extended to a full year. When that time has passed she will be branded and sold at a special auction that will be attended only by Masters and Mistresses who are known for their cruelty. Justice will be served.”
Charlene sobbed with despair as her sentence was pronounced. She had attempted to avoid the slavery she had chosen for herself, now a harsher one would be imposed upon her.
The Whipmaster used a sheath knife to split Charlene’s clothing up the seams and pulled the shredded rags from her. Watching, Sarah understood why Charlene had been allowed to keep her clothing for so long. It was more humiliating for her to be stripped naked before a thousand people. Her awareness of vulnerability would be the greater for it.
The Whipmaster went to work, using his stiffest whips. Charlene thrashed against the posts that held her exposed for punishment.
While the whipping progressed, Lestrade handed a note to a leather-collared slave. The slave looked around at the sea of faces, until he spotted Sarah and delivered the note to her.
Sarah took the note, thanked him, and read:
“Please come up to the stage when the whipping has ended.”
She waited, wondering what the summons meant.
Charlene passed out on the eighty first stroke, and had to be revived with a bucket of cold water poured over her head. A spell of silence gripped the crowd as they watched the cruel drama conclude. The Whipmaster delivered the final strokes to her bottom, using a stiff, heavy strap, which cracked like gunshots.
Sarah stood and approached the stage as he began to place the chastity belt on Charlene. Sarah was not surprised when he selected a large anal plug. She knew that he would be coming to Charlene’s cell tonight to claim his tribute, and the attention he had given to that red and welted bottom told Sarah which orifice he would choose. She wanted to be there to see it happen. Charlene and Jane would be in her care for some time, and she intended to see that their stay was not pleasant.
Sarah mounted the scaffolding and Lestrade began to speak again.
“I spoke earlier of justice. Now I want to speak of love. We have another outsider here, one who was brought against her will, but bears no grudge.”
Her orifices filled, Charlene was released and carried into the training center. The doors closed behind her, then opened again, and a girl stepped out alone.
She was a slender girl, barefoot in jeans and a tee shirt, which were baggy on her. She walked toward the scaffold with steps that were purposeful without haste. A beautiful, pensive girl who seemed not to notice the stare of the crowd; she might have been walking alone on the beach.
“This girl has been offered a life of luxury in a place of her own choosing,” said Lestrade.
Sarah didn’t recognize her right away, because of the wig. When she did, she shouted, “Kim!”
Kim looked up and smiled, walking faster.
“She has refused that offer in order to be near someone she loves, and pay homage to that love by making a gift of herself.”
Kim bounded up the steps and into Sarah’s arms.
“Is there room in your house for another Class A slave?”
“How can you ask me that? You know that I want you. Are you sure? You’re giving up so much.”
“When Lestrade asked me where I wanted to be, I knew that I was meant to be with you. We can’t escape our destiny.”
“I love you,” Sarah confessed. “But my desire will make me cruel. I won’t spare you.”
“I don’t want you to.”
The two women turned and looked at Lestrade. Kim nodded. “I’m ready.”
Two guards wearing heavy leather gloves carried a smoking charcoal brazier up the stairs and set it on the scaffold. A third guard carried a bench equipped with straps.
“Miss Victor will have a status unique in Domain. She has selected her own Mistress. In honor of that commitment, I have prepared a special brand, the personal mark of Mistress Sarah Gyve.”
Donning a leather glove, he withdrew the iron from the brazier and displayed it for the crowd. The end glowed bright orange. The audience rose to its feet cheering and applauding. Everyone there was moved by Kim’s love and courage. Lestrade put the iron back in the brazier and pushed it deep into the coals to heat.
All eyes were on Kim as she took off her wig and handed it to a guard. Yesterday’s stubble had been shaved, leaving her head smooth and shining.
“I won’t be needing this, please return it.”
Hastily, wanting to get it over with, she stripped off her tee shirt and threw it into the fire. A ripple of sound passed through the crowd, like the murmur of awe heard at fireworks displays.
Jeans and panties went into the fire, where they burst into flames, increasing the heat.
Naked, Kim threw herself belly down on the bench. “Hurry!” she pleaded, “I’m getting scared.”
Hands shaking, Sarah buckled the straps. Then she took Kim’s head in her hands and kissed her deeply. She put a rubber bit in Kim’s mouth.
“Bite down. It will help.”
When the iron found its mark they were holding hands.
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