Slave Girls in Bondage

Slave Girls in Bondage

Chapter 83

Now you all may be wondering: just what happened to Andrea?

Debbie had used her as she always did. When she was done, she tethered her in the hall where someone from the kennel would come to get her. It was a standard procedure. There was little fear of theft. (Or would it be rustling?) Slave girls were so plentiful they were inexpensive. Why take the chance stealing one and paying a find worth more than the value of the slave girl herself?

Unless, of course, there is one particular slave girl you want.

Andrea paid no attention to the man who freed the tether line from the wall. She was a good little slave girl. She went where she was led. Her concerns ended where the leash attached to her collar. She had nothing else to think or worry about. That was the responsibility of the person holding the leash, the person making the decisions, the person deciding where they would.

So much responsibility.

Andrea was glad she was a slave girl.

She did not recognize their destination but that did not matter. The man tethered her to a ring beside a door, no doubt the slave girls' entrance. Since one ring mounted on a wall looked like any other, the buxom blonde did not thing anything was out of the ordinary. She stepped back a few centimeters so she would not hit her head. Spreading her legs apart, she bent over so every could see what a lovely bottom she had.

Within a few minutes someone came for her. (As a slave girl, Andrea no longer had a concept of time.) A mistress clad in black leather freed the end of her leash, using it to guide her inside. Once within the building, she gave the leash to a French Maid.

Debbie had a French Maid's outfit that she had the blonde wear at least once a week. Her mistress would take her back to the cosmetology college so she could show her off.

Of course, none of her former friends recognized her. She was just another sexy, blonde slave girl.

Andrea was proud of the fact that her mistress trusted her so much that she would leave her alone in the students' lounge. Tethered to a table, on her knees before a chair, she would beg each woman who came into sight, “Please, Mistress, let me clean your pussy.”

Andrea said nothing else, though she did purr contentedly as she used her tongue to make other women come. She was so proud of the job she had done when she caused the other woman to come.

Of course, none recognized her, not even her former roommate Miranda. Andrea had considered the brunette her best friend while she was a coed. She was especially happy when this woman came.

A pat on the head and the comforting words, “Good girl,” was all the reward she needed.

Back to the present. They took her inside a room where the mistress had her stand facing a wall while she took the French Maid outside. She returned a minute later to prepare the blonde for her new master. She removed Andrea's dress, leaving her only wearing her black satin garterbelt, sheer black stockings and high heels. She knelt on a pair of stools. By pulling the stools apart, she forced her to spread her knees.

A leather strap about each stool crossed the blonde's calves. She could not move her legs from the stool top.

Next the mistress ran chains down from the ceiling to the rings on the sides of her collar. When the length was adjusted, she could not alter her position at all.

The last thing she did was place a leather blindfold over her eyes. Andrea was only a slave girl. She had no need to see what went on about her.

For some time she remained alone in that position. Eventually she heard someone enter the room, a man by the sound of the footsteps.

He slowly circled her.

Andrea felt no embarrassment at this. As a slave girl she was used to having others inspect her body. She felt pride knowing that of all the slave girls in the kennel, people thought enough of her to inspect her body.

She did jump a little when she felt a hand on her left tittie. It was a man's man. It was large and it was warm. Women had a tendency to go for the nipple immediately, squeezing and pinching to cause her pain.

This hand massaged the large globe, returning to the nipple again and again until it was hard.

She felt him move around behind her. His other hand fondled the right tit.

He continued to fondle her until she was aroused. Abruptly he stopped.

The beautiful blonde whimpered a little protest as she heard him leave the room. She wanted more.

More was what she was going to get.

Mortimer T. Munchkin returned to the room a few minutes later. He had paid well for them to find out who owned this beautiful blonde. More research showed how she was transported about, where she was left unattended, and who might come to get her.

Slowly he circled her again, inspecting her as he would any other expensive object he had purchased. The pleasing curves of her body matched the beauty of her face.

The next step was tactile inspection. He stood behind her, his hands cupping her titties. When he was finished kneading them, his hands moved down toward her pussy.

Andrea's breath became short and her heart beat faster. She was a totally submissive slave girl, but women had only used her body. For a few seconds, her mind flashed back to when she was a free woman. She would never have let any man place his hands down there.

When she was a free woman.

Now she was a slave girl.

Many women had played with her pussy, so many that she had come to enjoy it. Now a man played with it. His fingers rubbed it and probed it.

She felt her nipples become so hard and pointed she thought they might explode from her chest.

She felt sorry when he took his hand away. He started doing something with her long hair, forming it into pigtails that came down as far as her waist.

Pigtails?

“Why would he want my hair in pigtails?” she thought as he tied something to keep them in that shape.

She felt him holding the pigtails with one hand while the other pushed her shoulders forward and down. She thought he might push her over, but realized his hold on her hair kept her from moving forward all the way.

Bent over, her pussy was exposed. When he rammed his hips against her bottom, her body moved forward, but the grip he had on the pigtails kept her from falling forward. Every forward thrust caused her hair to pull at the roots with rather intense pain, but she did not care.

“Mmmm!”

No man had used her since she became a slave girl.

“Mmmmmmfffff!”

She had forgotten how good it felt.

“Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!”

The orgasm was the best she had every had. She wanted thank Debbie for allowing this man to—

Of course he wasn't finished. He had no come yet.

“Mmmm!”

The second orgasm came faster than the first, and the third even faster. Every time her body shook with ecstasy, she remembered how much she enjoyed being a slave girl.

She was exhausted by the time he came.

She was not finished performing though.

Using the pigtails he pulled her upright so he could unbuckle the strap holding the rubber ball in her mouth. Stepping around in front of the captive, he removed the gag, then the blindfold.

With both hands on her head he pushed her body down so her bottom came to rest on her legs. Her face was near his cock.

“Suck on it. Make me proud of you.”

Andrea took the whole shaft in her mouth. She had no leverage in this position, but she jerked her head up and down as quickly as she could. If she could make him hard, perhaps he would use her again.

He had other plans. She had such a luscious mouth, it was only right that he use it. The beautiful blonde sucked and sucked and sucked until he came in her mouth.

“Lick your lips to clean yourself. Swallow it all. There is no greater reward a master can give his slave girl than to let him come in her mouth.”

That statement somewhat confused Andrea. The man referred to himself as her “master” yet she knew Debbie owned her. Had Debbie sold her?

Andrea really did not care. She accepted the simple truth that she was a slave girl. She existed only to bring pleasure to others.

The beautiful blonde tilted her head back as she slowly ran her tongue across her lips to clean them. She kept her mouth open, an open invitation for her master to insert his cock again.

Munchkin had her assume what could be called the standard slave girl position. She stood with her legs spread and bent over with her head back.

From the front, anyone could see that beautiful face and those dangling titties.

From either side it was the profile view of that beautiful face plus her titties.

From behind it was her waiting pussy.

He moved about the room to enjoy his new possession from various angles.

A knock at the door disturbed his thoughts. He moved toward the door without taking his eyes off Andrea.

“You indicated you wanted a mistress?”

“I have a little toy I need outfitted. For the game tonight. Something that will bring out her beauty.”

The leather of the mistress's catsuit crackled as she moved into the room to inspect the “toy.” She made her way slowly about Andrea, allowing her left hand to glide slowly up her right bottomcheek and across her back toward her head.

“For a blonde, I would suggest something in a dark color, maybe a red or a black.”

“I was thinking black. I hadn't thought of red. Do you have samples?”

“I'll get them. It will take a few minutes.”

As soon as the woman left, Munchkin took his blonde plaything into another room. He pushed a stool toward the bed.

“Kneel on it.”

As soon as Andrea did that, he tied her ankles together, running the working end of the cord beneath the stool and out in front. He untied her hands. She knew her freedom would not be long so she kept her hands behind her back as though they were bound.

“Put your hands on the floor right next to the stool. “

The beautiful blonde was not very happy about this poisiton. He was binding her in the perfect position for a spanking. Of course she followed every command without thinking. She was just a slave girl.

He squatted before her to fasten a pair of handcuffs between her wrists. To keep her from leaving this position, he tied the end of the rope to the links connecting them. If she pulled her hands upward, the rope would pull on her ankles.

He had to wait half an hour for the mistress to return with the various dresses. She did not provide just samples of the dresses – she provided them on live models, each of whom was Andrea's size. So he would know what they would look like on Andrea, each model was a blonde.

Each model, of course, wore the black leather collar of a slave girl.

The first outfit was a red silk minidress. The slave girl's nipples were visible through the thin material. The silk clung tightly to her slender body until it reached her waist. The material flared outwards at that point. The hem was so short that he could see a little of her shiny red satin panties.

The second out was similar to the first except the material of the bodice was red nylon from the waist up. He could see all of the slave girl's titties. The skirt was red silk and cut as short as the first.

The third outfit consisted of a cropped top of red nylon and a miniskirt of red satin. The hem of this garment was several centimeters above the waist so the wearer's belly was completely exposed.

The fourth miniskirt was pleated and short. The slave girl wore black satin panties.

The final outfit was a traditional slave girl's outfit of a red satin halter top and a flared miniskirt. The panties were black satin.

“I'm something of a traditionalist.”

“Number four or five?”

“Four.”

The mistress removed the slave girl's attire. She had no need to wear anything back to the kennel.

“I'll send up a pair of matching shoes.”

What she meant was high-heeled sandals with the 15-centimeter stiletto heels.

Andrea had no idea what was going on, but she really needed to know nothing. She was only a slave girl so she had to think of nothing be obeying her master's commands.

Another mistress brought the shoes. No, that isn't quite right. A French Maid brought the shoes in a special carrier strapped to her back. The mistress brought the French Maid.

The reason she brought this slave girl was so she could dress Andrea.

The beautiful blonde stood in the center of the room as she had been taught while Munchkin and the mistress watched the slave girl dress her.

When she had the miniscule outfit on the luscious blonde, Munchkin gestured toward a chair with one hand. Lying on the cushion was Andrea's bondage device. The French maid bent the blonde's hands toward the opposite shoulder before wrapping a three-centimeter wide strap about her crossed wrists. A D-ring slid through a slit near the end. The French Maid secured it in place with a small padlock.

More straps radiated out, passing over the blonde's shoulders and down under her arms to her wrists where more padlocks were used. Another set of straps went about the upper arms.

When she stepped back, she had Andrea's arms tightly bound to her body with leather straps. The blonde could wiggle her hands, but that was about all she could do.

He still had time before the big game so he sat back with a glass of fine cognac to enjoy the sight of this beautiful blonde, bound and ever so willing to please him.

His drink done, he led her down the hall to the elevator at the end. Four narrow doors marked the elevators. A little black indicator told whether one was in use or not. None were at this time. He selected the second from the right.

“Step in and up on the bar.”

Andrea looked down as she stepped inside. The interior was slightly larger than she was. She looked down at the bar near the floor that paralleled the back. Raising her right left, she set her foot down on it so the arch of the high heels rested on the bar. Pushing her body upwards, she tried to put her left foot on the bar. Her body bounced off the back wall. She started to fall backwards but he caught her with his hands against her back. Pushing her up and forward, he maneuvered her so she stood on the bar leaning against the back wall.

Holding her in place with his left hand, he used his right to draw a broad leather belt across her back. He needed only one hand to attach the buckle to a ring on the wall. He kept his left hand against her back (though it was no longer necessary) while his right pulled the working end of the strap, drawing all slack from it. As the strap tightened, it pressed the blonde's body against the back wall.

There were several more straps to hold the young captive in place. The first passed immediately under her bottom. He pulled it tight before fastening the next across the backs of her knees.

Two straps went across her upper back, one just below the shoulders, and the other midway between it and her waist.

Before continuing, he tested all the straps to insure they were tight. Satisfied that they would hold his latest acquisition in place, he put his foot under the bar. Probing around without seeing what he was doing, he finally found a pedal. By pushing it down, he released the bar.

“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”

Andrea squealed in shock as the support fell away. She thought she was going to fall, but she did not. Her body sagged down two or three centimeters before coming to a stop, suspended in the air by the straps.

He was almost finished with her. He slipped a red satin blindfold over her eyes so she could see nothing.

Stepping back, he admired his handiwork one last time.

He pulled down on a lever on the left side, locking it in place with a large cotter pin. He released two more levers by stepping down on them. They pulled the locking mechanism out of the external framework.

He closed the door to the elevator. Another level was in a box next to the door. Opening the box, he pulled down until he felt no more resistance.

The chains and pulleys of the device took over as counterweights slowly lowered the elevator car and its precious cargo to the floor below. The movement was slow, but there was no hurry.

Munchkin returned to his room to get his money. He was low in ready cash, but he was certain that with a few lucky turns of the cards he could increase his money. All it would take was a few lucky hands.

As he descended the stairway to the lobby, a scene began to play out in the cocktail lounge between the lobby and the game room.

Her name was…oh, who really cares? She wore the collar of a slave girl so her name was unimportant. She was a serving wench. She wore an outfit that resembled that of a French Maid. Her performance had been less than satisfactory. Who is going to punish her? Her owner? The whipmistress? What about the customer?

You may have already guessed the answer. Who punished her? Amyone who wanted to.

Two guards stripped her of her outer clothing, then her panties. This left her wearing only her garterbelt, stockings and heels. By now she knew what her fate would be. She had been punished this way before so she decided to resist.

They already had her hands cuffed behind her back so their was little she could do they dragged her toward the lobby where there were a series of small rooms, affectionately called “butt boxes.” A whipmistress led the way, opening the door to one as they approached.

Outside, they stopped so the whipmistress could remove the handcuffs from the captive's wrists. The guards then shifted their grasp from the slave girl's upper arms to her wrists. Pushing her through the door, they soon had her back up against the back wall where there was an oval hole. The guards rammed her arms against the wall a couple meters above the floor. They had no trouble pushing her hands through leather cuffs. While one hand held an arm in position, the other pulled the cuff tight so she could not pull her hand out.

The guards stepped out of the butt box so the whipmistress could enter. She swung a bar across the slave girl's lower abdomen. Pushing it against the wall on the other side, she shoved it against a device that locked it in position.

The whipmistress pushed a lever down that pushed the bar back. She repeated the process three more times. She knew how many times she had to do it as she had done this often before. It seemed that no matter how manner times they disciplined the little slave girls, the customers were always complaining about their behavior/attitude/service.

(Though perhaps people made the complaints so they could punish the serving wenches.)

The oval through which the slave girl's bottom protruded was padded so there were be no gaps. The inner of the butt box was lined with soundproof material so once the whipmistress closed and locked the door, no one could hear the muffled grunts of the captive.

By the time the whipmistress circled the box, a line of men and women had already formed, eager to punish the recalcitrant captive. The first man in line had a cane (as did the man behind him), but he had not used it yet. The whipmistress had to approve that the slave girl was indeed bound properly.

She inspected the protruding bottom both visually and by feel to insure it was properly placed. Satisfied that the bottom was properly prepared, she turned her attention to a timer above and slightly to the left of the bare bottom. She set it at five minutes. As she stepped back, she nodded at the first man to begin.

Crack! Crack!

The second man moved up as the first stepped to the side, handing his cane to the third man in line.

Crack! Crack!

By the time he reached the end of the line, the second man had handed his cane to the fourth person in line, a woman, and had started for the rear of the line.

Crack! Crack!

Before he reached the end of the line another person had joined it.

Crack! Crack!

Those early in the line had the chance to deliver two more blows two more times before the timer chimed. A collective moan went up from those in line waiting for another turn.

The slave girl would be released from the butt box and sent back to work. If she spilled a single drop of anyone's drink, she would return to the butt box for a ten-minute session. And the slave girl tending bar had explicit orders to see that every glass was filled to the brim. If it wasn't, she would take her place in the butt box. She knew that every slave girl she helped go back to the butt box for a second or third session meant more rewards for her. She would spend longer periods of time in the lobby bent over with her legs spread, offering her pussy to anyone who wanted her.

Munchkin contemplated joining the line to punish the slave girl. He slowed down as though he would, but at the last second he stepped to the right to avoid the approach of a man and woman, eager to flail away at the bare bottom.

He hurried into the gaming room in back. Three players were already there, two standing at the bar and another at the table clinking a small column of thalens.

Munchkin decided the game would start soon. He hurried back through the inn to the elevators where his blonde slave girl was exactly where he had left her. Quickly he freed her from the straps that bound her to the back wall of the elevator. He led her back to the room.

He was a little early for the game, but he wanted the chance to show off his acquisition. Others might speculate how he came by her, and perhaps he would add to the mystery with a little lie or two.

As he expected, they all admired Andrea's great beauty. A couple men dropped hints about wanting to sample her physical assets.

Munchkin teased them with her presence, but let no one do more than fondle her body. Once the game began, he promptly forgot about her until near midnight.

The cards had gone against him most of the night. He won a few hands without winning much money. Finally he had an excellent hand. Others had good hands, he could tell the way they stayed in the game as the pot grew bigger and bigger.

Finally that time came when he wanted to “call” but lacked the money to do so. He looked at his cards, pressed his lips together, and laid his cards face down on the table.

What should he do? Try to borrow money? That could occur only at usurious interest rates. Still, he needed the money. He left his eyes wander around the room, looking for the person who would give him the money.

His eyes landed on Andrea.

“I would like to call with an ‘objet d'arte.'”

That “objet d'arte” was, of course, Andrea.

Who wouldn't want her? She was made to kneel next to the table, symbolically being part of the kitty.

When the cards were turned face up, a mild cheer arose from the group.

Mortimer T. Munchkin had won. He had his big pot of money and he still had Andrea.

Oh, but what a risky act to do with such a lovely “objet d'arte!”