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Slave Girls in Bondage
Chapter 82
It will come as no surprise to anyone paying attention that Canjac found Peggy in the exact same position in which he left her.
He paused at the entrance of the alcove to watch her. Her hands moved a little in her bondage. It was a normal reaction for a woman bound. For some, it was a futile attempt to escape. For others it was a means of assuring themselves that they were in fact helplessly bound.
He stepped forward, within a couple meters so he could inspect her bonds. Her flesh was a little red about the bonds, that was to be expected. It was not widespread and it was not severe. She had not struggle much with her bondage.
He had left her helpless bound, and she accepted her fate.
He moved quietly to her, placing his left hand on her left tit. He felt her body convulse as he kneaded it, then left his hand slide across to her right titties. She reacted as she did from the surprise of his touch. The floor was carpeted so a captive would not know if she was being inspected or not. She reacted from surprise, not from any unwillingness to be fondled. His right hand already moved from her belly to her crotch.
“Mmmmmmffffffttttt!.”
He suspected (correctly) that she had been bound in various positions before. That was the problem when one had a willing captive. When he dealt with a slave girl, his choices were simple. He bound her any way he wanted. She was a slave girl so she had to submit to his wishes.
Binding a free woman was different. The problem was to make it new and exciting so she would want to come back for more.
To make it more interesting for Peggy, he decided on something different. That was why she found herself on all fours staring out the window while Canjac fastened a leather belt about her waist. He had removed the blindfold attachment of the ballgag harness so anyone outside could see her beautiful face, and at the same time she could see everyone watching her.
He shifted the belt about her waist a little so the buckle was in front while there was a sturdy D-ring on either side on top. This belt had six D-rings spaced along it. He attached chains to the rings, chains that rose a couple meters in the air before joining together at a ring. A third chain was attached to the ring. It ran to a pulley on the wall via a couple of overhead pulleys.
He did not shorten the chain, not yet.
Another strap went about her upper chest, under her arms but above her large bosom. As with the other strap, this one had several D-rings. He adjusted the placement of the strap so he had one D-ring between her shoulder blades.
He wanted two chains in back so she could not alter the position of her bottom. It did not matter in front. (If she squirmed around, she would merely make her titties wobble back and forth).
There was no pulley immediately overhead, but the builder of this fine establishment had the forethought to make the bondage accessories flexible. Canjac moved swiftly to the far end of the alcove where a chain dangled down from a pulley. This pulley, instead of being mounted securely on the ceiling, was suspended from a track. By pulling on the chain, he slid the pulley along the track until he had it over Peggy. (Okay, it was not in the ideal location being close to her waist, but the position would do for what he wanted.) He attached the end of the chain to the ring on the leather strap.
He left the leather cuffs buckled about her wrists and ankles. To each ring he attached a chain that ran from her body to a small pool of steel links on the floor beside her.
Peggy stared straight ahead. As it was, she stared at the small group of men who had assembled to watch the proceedings. Each had business elsewhere, but the prospects of seeing a beautiful woman, slave girl or free, bound in an interesting position was too tempting to pass up.
She saw their lips moving. She wondered what they talked about. Was her position? Or was it her naked body? Or perhaps a combination of both.
Canjac moved to the wall to turn the crank. As he spun it about, the chain shortened, making a loud clanking sound as the links passed through the mechanism. At first it merely caused the leather strap to dig into Peggy slender body, but within seconds it caused the strap to pull her rump into the air. Her rear end rose in the air millimeter by millimeter until her knees left the ground. As her derriere moved up, she left her feet slid forward across the carpeting. When she stood (bent over) with her knees bent slightly, he stopped turning and locked the crank in position.
What he had done put the beautiful brunette is a somewhat amusing position. Her bottom was in the air, about at normal height, but her shoulders were still near the floor, supported by her arms.
He pulled her right leg to the right. Measuring out about half a meter of chain he fastened a link to a ring set in the floor.
He had once heard the owner boast that the tavern had 10,000 locks but only one key. What he meant, of course, was that all the locks took the same key. Thus, a master (or mistress) could chain up a comesome wench without worrying about losing the key. Canjac used one of the locks to secure the chain to the ring.
This room had many floor mounted rings available to the user. Most were in small recesses in the floor, like the one Canjac used. Inserting an index finger in a notch, he raised the covering to reveal the ring. After attaching the chain link to the ring with a simple clasp, he closed the covering. A slot halfway down the metal device allowed the chain to emerge. Canjac could rotate the covering so the chain ran in a straight line to whomever the other end was secured to.
Moving over to her left, he repeated the process.
She now could not move her legs together. He stepped behind her to rub his hand up and down her inner thighs. The instinctively reaction was to pull her legs together, but the cuffs and chains prohibited from doing that.
He returned to the crank to twist it half a dozen times, shortening the chain so he had Peggy's feet pulled off the floor.
He turned his attention to her arms. He secured the chains to rings in the floor as he did with her feet, but this time he made the chains about a meter long.
He moved back to inspect the position of the captive's legs. Squatting, he shortened the chain to her right ankle.
The chain to the pulley above her shoulders did not run to a crank on the wall. Since it was movable., it had a chain loop so an end of the chain would increasingly be in the way. By continually pulling down on the loop, the wheel in the pulley turned, drawing the working end of the chain in the air. A loop of unused chain grew larger as he worked.
The chain became shorter – Peggy's shoulders rose in the air.
There was more to just hoisting the captive beauty in the air. A sense of propriety had to be maintained. By propriety, we mean her bottom had to be higher than her shoulders.
He adjusted all the chains once again before returning to the chain that controlled the height of her hips. Turning the crank a few more times, he drew all slack from those chains running between her ankles and the rings in the floor.
Canjac circled around the captive to insure the bottom half of her body was in the ideal position.
He turned his attention back to the single chain that ran to the belt about her upper chest. This chain required less effort than the other. While there was a double-pulley system that minimized the amount of energy needed, the other chain held the bulk of Peggy's weight (which was not much, less than fifty kilos).
When he finished with the chains, he was not quite done with the young woman's bondage. Attaching an elastic strap to the ring on top the ballgag harness, he pulled her head up so he could fastened the other end of the strap to that chain holding up her shoulders. She could pull her head forward but the strain was too much to maintain that position long. Invariably, she would pull her head up again.
He walked about her, inspecting her from all angles.
Every portion of her exquisite body was visible. She had no modesty bound as she was. She could not hide anything (as though she wanted to). With her head back, she could only stare out the window where anyone had an unobstructed view of her from the front. Head back, arms spread, her large titties dangled down for all to see. From the back, her pussy was not only visible, but also available for use.
From the sides, her titties could be seen, hanging down to maximum length.
Canjac needed only one more item.
Before he could say anything to the bartender, he heard a cheer from a room on the far side of the room and to the right.
“Party?”
“They playing ‘Grab Your Ankles.' They must have found a new contestant.”
Canjac's aversion to unnecessary physical torment of a slave girl has already been documented. “Grab Your Ankles.” Now that was a game with which he was unfamiliar.
“They bet on who can't take the punishment.”
“What?”
“Each contestant gets a whack on the fanny. Every time they cry out they lose an article of clothing. The first to fall to her knees loses. You can go over and bet if you want to.”
Intrigued by the nature of the game, he had to go.
The room had four sofas and about a dozen stuffed chairs. They had rearranged the placement of the furniture so they had an open area before a coffee table.
A man inside the door fingered a gold crown. When Canjac paused just inside the door, he looked over.
“A real corundum. Two blondes.”
“Who are the contestants?”
“That blonde and that blonde and that brunette over there.”
Canjac realized what the man meant about there being corundum. In a contest between a blonde and a brunette, the smart money would bet on the blonde submitting first. Two blondes presented a problem. Either could be the first to submit.
Canjac found a man seated on a sofa taking bets.
“What's the minimum bet?”
“Whatever you have in your pocket.”
“Two thalens on the brunette.”
He moved to one wall so he could watch without being in the way. A woman with ash blonde hair participated in an animated discussion with three men. Every time she finished her drink, they gave her another one.
He wondered if she would have agreed to this if she were sober.
His eyes moved to a honey blonde leaning against a wall. He controlled her drinking and said little. She seemed to be laughing at the men with her eyes.
Two men tried to talk to the brunette but she said nothing and took only little sips of her drink.
“Who's the favorite?” he asked the man next to him.
As he raised his drink toward his lips, he gestured toward the ash blonde. After taking a sip, he gestured toward the brunette.
“It's real interesting tonight. The brunette's something of a ringer. Most women only do this once. You can't pour enough alcohol into them to get them to do it a second time. This is the brunette's second time, second time that I know of. She bets on her opponent to lose.”
“Ladies, we are ready to begin.”
The three moved slowly to the area of the room that had been cleared for the contest. They were willing participants and could back out at any time. It looked as though they thought the first to arrive in line would be the first to get a smack on the fanny.
“Let me go over the rules again.
“Each woman will get one swat with a switch. If she cries out, she loses an article of clothing. The order of clothing removal is: shoes, top, pants, bra and then panties. When a woman loses her panties, she no longer deserves a blow from a switch. At this point we switch to a wooden paddle.
“If you want to end the contest, you have only to fall to your knees.
“As a remainder – any clothing lost during the contest will not be returned until closing time.
“Are there any questions?”
“Who spanks us?” asked the ash blonde.
“I was about to get to that. Bring her in.”
Canjac looked at the doorway. A woman appeared in sight leading a French Maid. The captive moved without hesitation even though she wore a leather blindfold. No doubt she was an experienced slave girl used to being led about. The woman holding her leash led her about the room so everyone could see her. She led the slave girl over in front of the three where she jerked down on the leash. The woman knelt.
“This is Darcy, supplied to us by the inn. Darcy has done this before, and knows the rules. The rule that applies to her is if in our opinion she does not hit a contestant hard enough, she receives a whack on the bottom with a wooden paddle. The second time, she gets two and so forth. Tell me, Darcy, are you going to get any swats tonight?”
The blindfolded beauty shook her head.
“Give her a switch and we will begin.”
They moved the three contests apart so the slave girl would have no problem welding the switch and paddle.
By the time they had them in position, they had the French Maid's blindfold off along with the handcuffs. Darcy moved to the end of the line where she curtsey, a signal that she was ready to begin.
“Ladies, grab you ankles!”
The three young women bent over. Darcy gave them no time to think about their fate. Crack! She stepped forward four small steps (in the stiletto heels she could not take large steps). Crack! Four more steps. Crack!
Of the three, only the brunette had not cried out. The men and women in the room cheered as the two blondes stepped out of their shoes. The hands of all three rubbed their bottoms.
“Grab your ankles.”
The three bent over again. Crack! Darcy stepped backwards. The honey blonde must have expected her to move in the same order as she gave a little cry as she straightened up.
Crack! Crack!
“Inez…”
The honey blonde pulled her top off, wavered it over her head a few times, and let it fly into the crowd.
“Grab your ankles.”
Crack! Crack! Crack! Darcy moved up the line. Crack! Crack! Crack! She moved back down.
On the sixth blow, the brunette lost her shoes and the ash blonde lost her top.
In five minutes, the two blondes stood there wearing only panties. The brunette was little better off as she had only her panties and bra.
“Grab your ankles!”
Crack! The brunette gave a little cry as she straightened up. She did not wait. Before Darcy had finished with the blows, she removed her bra, tossing it in Canjac's general direction. It did not reach him though as a man seated before him intercepted it as it flew through the air.
The French Maid brought the switch down as hard as she could against the ash blonde's bottom.
Crack!
“Ahhhhgggggh!”
She pushed her panties down to the floor. As they slid down her legs, she began rubbing her bottom with both hands.
Crack!
“Ahhhhgggggh!”
So, what we have is a pair of blondes, stark naked, with a brunette wearing on her panties.
“Grab your ankles!”
Crack!
Everyone expected the brunette to cry out but she did not.
There was a delay in the proceedings as the French Maid had to retrieve a paddle from one of the men. She handed him the switch and got the wood paddle in exchange. She curtseyed before returning to the ash blonde.
Whack!
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!”
She had no more clothing to lose so it did not matter whether she cried out or not. Canjac could not see her bottom from where he stood, but those standing behind her saw a red rectangle beginning to form on her bottomcheeks.
The French Maid got the switch back, curtseyed, and returned to the honey blonde.
Crack!
“Ahhhhgggggh!”
That blonde pushed her panties off her hips but stopped. She was having second thoughts. She did not want to get whacked by the paddle. There was no law that said she had to continue in the game, but she guessed (correctly) that if she did not continue, when the tavern closed, no one would give her back her clothes. She did not look forward to the prospect of running home naked.
The panties fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them, then kicked them to the side.
“Grab your ankles!”
Crack!
Tears streamed down the brunette's face but she did not make a sound.
The French Maid exchanged the switch for the paddle.
Where would the blow fall? The first had fallen on the upper part of her buttocks. Should she make the second land on top the first, or should she make the bottom part her target.
A moot point.
As she drew the paddle back to deliver the ash blonde's second whack with it, the target fell to all fours.
“Please, no more!”
A cheer went up from the spectators. All right. Nobody had made a killing as she was the favorite.
“The perky ones are always the first to go,” the man said to Canjac before finishing his drink. “It shows they had a deep-seated fear of the paddle.”
All eyes were on the loser but let us turn our attention momentarily to the brunette. This was her fourth game of “Grab Your Ankles” and though she had not gotten as much betting against the others as she would have hoped, she knew she would still get a reward. She pushed her panties down and kicked them aside (hoping that everyone would ignore them so she could find them when she was ready to go home). She placed both hands behind her back.
She had to wait for less than a minute before some slapped a pair of handcuffs on her wrists. A small spreader bar was placed between her elbows and a leather strap buckled about each arm. She could not pull her elbows together which meant she could not lower her hands to her bottom.
Others were securing the others in the same position. The honey blonde had no idea what was going on when they tried to put the handcuffs on her wrists. The ash blonde had rolled onto her left side, forcing them to pull her back to her knees so they could get the handcuffs on her.
The brunette stepped forward so she stood immediately behind the man on the blonde's left fastening that strap of the spreader bar. Once they had the blonde bound, they pulled her to her knees. The brunette pushed past the man.
A woman standing behind the blonde pulled her head back by pulling on her hair. By instinct her mouth opened. The brunette moved forward, straddling the blonde's body so she could move forward to plant her pussy on the woman's face.
“Losers have to reward the winners!”
Several people cheered as she moved her body up and down to rub her pussy on the woman's face.
Canjac had lost, and he was not interested in taking any revenge on the blonde for losing. She did not measure up to his standards to be a slave girl, and he had two women there in the tavern that did.
“Rats!”
He had spent more time in there than he thought. It was almost time for Michelle's auction to begin.
He trotted to the bar to rent a slave collar. The bar tender loaned it to him for free.
When he returned to Peggy he tossed it on the floor under her head. She could not see it but that did not matter. People outside would. The collar lying on the floor indicated that Peggy did not wear one.
“We'll have to play later,” he promised her as he let his right hand gently glide across her bottom and down the back of her left thigh.
He removed the “Do Not Disturb,” sign outside the alcove, replacing it with a “Please Disturb.”
With any luck, Peggy would be rewarded for her submissive behavior by having a number of men available themselves of her pussy. What's more, anyone standing outside could watch.
Canjac returned to the room to discover that Michelle had not quite finished yet. As it was she had two men to go.
He had not realized just how good she was.
For a couple minutes he contemplated returning to Peggy, but was unsure. He certainly did not want to disappoint his clientele. He could tell those serviced already by the buxom brunette were anxious to begin the bidding.
They would not have objected if Canjac began the bidding before Michelle had service the auctioneer and the notary. He had to wait though. There were certain steps that had to be taken. His clients knew that.
Michelle rose to her feet, curtseyed, and moved the notary. Canjac stepped outside to glance at the clock. The evening had passed quickly. He had time to conduct an orderly auction. They would let him keep the room even if the inn itself closed to business. He was a customer they did not want to offend.
Canjac leaned against the wall next to the door watching Michelle do what she did best. The notary's hands gripping her head indicated he was about to come.
As soon as she moved her head back, he moved forward. She had no need of her mouth until it came time to thank her new owner for putting a collar about her neck.
By exerting a little upwards pressure on her shoulders, he indicated she should rise. As she did that, the auctioneer pushed a stool before the bidders. Michelle took her place on it, kneeling before the men.
“Do you have the listing?”
Canjac pulled a paper from a pocket. The auctioneer glanced at it before carefully folding it and placing it in his pocket where he could get to it.
“When the bidding reaches a certain, pre-specified level, that bidder will have the right to remove an article of clothing from Michelle. When the reserve amount is met, she will be displayed for your viewing pleasure.”
Yeah, they could have plunked her down on the stool buck naked and let the men bid on her, but this way was more fun.
(Canjac glanced out the door. It was more time-consuming also. His thoughts were on Peggy.)
“Does anyone wish to open the bidding with a single pfenning?”
Generally, starting the bidding that low would be a blow to the little slave girl's self-esteem. She thought herself a virtual sex machine, worth scores of gold crowns. Of course, no slave girl every sold for that much, but they thought they were worth it. (Not surprisingly, a glut in the market has driven the price of slave girls down.)
The bids increased as fast as the auctioneers could announce them. It took only seconds to reach the first threshold.
The auctioneer helped Michelle off the stool. She stood before the man as he fumbled around for his disrobing knife. (All men carried a disrobing knife – just in case.)
Ropes about her wrists secured Michelle's arms behind her back. The man started at the neckline of the blouse and slowly pulled down, the sharp edge slicing the material to the waist. He pulled the blouse from the waistband of the skirt. Grabbing her by the waist with both hands, he turned her a little to the left so he could repeat the process on the other side. Once he had it cut in front, he turned her around to cut it down the back. The long sleeves were next.
When he started, it had been a simple cotton blouse. When he finished, it was a group of tattered rags that he pulled loose so they could drop to the floor.
The auctioneer slowly turned the captive brunette around so the man could inspect his handiwork. He them moved her to the right and then to the left so each bidder had a good look at those dark nipples showing through the think material.
Michelle returned to the stool.
“The current bid is two thalens.”
It did not take long for the bidding to reach three thalens, fifty pfennings, the next level.
A different man had placed that bid. Michelle stood before him so he could hook the curved blade of his disrobing knife in the waistband of the black satin skirt. He drew the blade down. The sharp edge cut easily through the material. Because the tip was curved, it did not mar her skin.
Panties and bra. Too little clothing for a free woman, too much for a slave girl.
The bids rose quickly. Michelle knelt before the man who had placed the threshold bid. A slice down between her large supple mounds caused the cups to fall outward. A couple cuts on the shoulder straps and the bra fluttered to the floor.
Since he had placed the bid, he was the first to caress those mounds. Michelle begged him with her eyes to buy her.
Each of the other bidders had the opportunity to fondle her. Michelle silently begged each to buy her.
The panties soon joined the tattered bra on the floor. She turned about. With her legs spread she bent over so each man could examine her love nest. A woman's most prized possession was about to become a public playground.
The bids skyrocketed from that point. In a matter of minutes the buxom brunette knelt on the floor so she could place her neck against the collar. The proceedings were all quite legal and proper. The bidding had exceeded Canjac's expectations. Michelle's desire to be a good little slave girl had forced her selling price to be much higher than he had expected.
Michelle was now a slave girl.
Once again she used her mouth on the man, this time to thank him for turning her into a slave girl.
Canjac wanted to leave but could not. Michelle still had to thank each man for bidding on her. By the time her master took her from the room she had been used as a slave girl so often that she could not remember when she had not worn a collar.
Canjac thanked each bidder and promised each he would keep him in mind the next time he had such an item to sell.
By then, the inn was closed. Peggy was gone.
The bartender motioned him over.
“That brunette, she wanted me to give you this.”
He handed him a piece of paper. Canjac unfolded it and smiled. Tossing the bartender a thalen for his services, he tucked the paper deep in a pocket where he would not lose it.
Peggy has become Canjac's Achilles heel.
Would anyone we've met so far be so brazen as to exploit that?
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