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Slave Girls in Bondage
Chapter 84
The honeymoon inn was many kilometers away. Situated on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the height protected it from sea borne brigands. The remoteness of its locations made it inconvenient for any brigands from any town to come there.
All in all, there was a sense of security about it.
Ronor helped Shelly down from the coach.
“This is quaint.”
“It's all the rage. I was lucky to get us in. It's booked full for the next six months. I had to grease a few palms just to get us here for a couple of days.”
The beautiful brunette did not look at her husband as he told her how much this place cost. She would have fun with him for a few days here, Once she returned to the town, she would make arrangements to divorce him.
The concierge met them before they were halfway to the front desk. There was no need to check in as Ronor had made all the arrangements before the wedding. The concierge snapped his fingers twice. That signal was all it took for three French Maids to come running to get their luggage.
Though the three wore gags, they otherwise wore no bondage items. Where could they flee?
As their coach approached the inn, another coach appeared in sight in the distance. Behind it came another, and a third. A wedding party approached.
“This will be interesting,” Ronor heard the concierge mumble under his breath.
“If you like, you can go to your room to change.”
That was agreeable to Shelly. Her guide was a French Maid. The mistress held a leash that was attached to the back of her collar. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, but Shelly could undo them if she wanted to use her.
Ronor decided to stay around to see what happened.
The lead coach arrived as soon as their coach pulled away from the entrance. The first coach contained the bride and groom, not yet married. Their ceremony was schedule for the onyx room on a lower level. The following coaches contained members of the wedding party.
“Just don't touch me!”
“Well, don't touch me back.”
No one looked at the ravishing bride-to-be. All eyes were on the blonde and brunette emerging from the second coach. No blows had been thrown.
Yet.
“Is there a problem?” Canjac whispered to the concierge.
“None that cannot be solved with leather and steel.”
He guessed what the man hinted at.
The bride rolled her eyes as the two young women continued to bicker. The party made it inside the inn without anyone slapping a face or pulling hair.
“I get the blue dress.”
“No, I want it.”
The two young beauties continued their squabbling as they followed the wedding party to the front desk to sign in.
“It will be a while before you lovely bride is ready. Would you like to partake of some entertainment?”
The concierge led Ronor toward the back of the building where there was a large dining room. They did not enter it though. Instead, they took steps down to the next level.
Lining walls on both sides where niches where slave girls waited, bound spread-eagle, ballgags insuring their silence.
“These are a few of our latest acquisitions. If you like, you can select one for your pleasure.”
“Only one?”
“One is a generic number. You certainly do not want to select more than what you can handle. The others may feel neglected.”
The two men laughed as they continued on.
A couple slave girls blushed at what they heard. It was as though the men expected them to enjoy being slave girls. But as the concierge said, these were new acquisitions. They had not learned the joy of using their bodies to please others.
“What about organized assistance?”
“This way.”
They turned down a corridor that ran from end of the building to another. Inside the third door they found eight French Maids. Four were on their knees licking the pussies of the other four who were bound spread-eagle. The four slave girls who were bound also wore blindfolds and ballgags. So tightly had they been bound that the only way an onlooker could tell they were not statutes were the constant flexing of their hands, and the agitated flow of their long tresses as their heads bobbed with every orgasm.
As he said that, the concierge dropped his pants. Turning the first kneeling French Maid around, she went from licking pussy to sucking cock without even thinking.
“Our staff is well-trained in serving our guests.”
Ronor selected two French Maids to help. The concierge assured him if he needed more they were available.
He then returned to the hallway to select a plaything while he waited for Shelly.
One new slave girl caught his eye. As he reached for a tit, she tried to draw away.
“Her name is Tracy. We just got her a couple days ago. She submitted to wearing a collar, but she hasn't accepted her status as a slave girl yet.”
Ronor was certain that when they turned her about they would find red marks on her fanny where the slaver had “persuaded” her that she wanted to be a slave girl.
“She will do nicely.”
Concierge led Ronor to a room down the hall. A series of windows overlooked the ocean. Scattered about were an assortment of bondage and spanking devices.
“Do you have any plans for her?”
“I was thinking about ‘timed submission.'”
“An excellent idea. I'll get a timer.”
The concierge returned with the timer as they brought Tracy into the room. The mistress leading her had her kneel facing the man. The blonde had been bound spread-eagle in the hall.
“Do you know why you are being punished, Tracy?”
The blonde shook her head.
“It's because you have not accepted her new status in life. I am certain that with a little training you will want to be the best little slave girl around.”
“Do you want me to set up the pulley?”
“No. I'm certain Tracy will be a good little slave girl.”
Tracy had no intention of being “a good little slave girl,” but what choice did she have in the matter?
“Spread her legs far apart and tied them there.”
The two French Maids he had selected knelt on the far side of the room. Though they wore black satin panties, they had their knees spread, symbolically offering their pussies to the men.
At the order from the concierge, they bounded to their feet. He had turned the young blonde so she faced in the direction he wanted. One French Maid took each ankle. Tracy had no choice but to spread her legs far apart as they wanted. They tied one end of a cord to the blonde's ankle, the other end to a ring on the floor.
Once done, they bounded to their feet to return to the places where they had begun.*****
Tracey looked back over her shoulder to see what was going on back there. The men were to the side so she could not see what Ronor intended to do to her.
There was nothing special about her bondage – they had merely tied her hands together palm-to-palm with a cord. Before tying the knot they had cinched the first few loops.
They repeated the process with her elbows, wrapping a cord about her upper arms immediately above her elbows. Again, they cinched the loops before tying a knot.
Though they had not tied her arms to her body, she had little mobility. She could swing her hands a few centimeters to either side, but that was about it.
“Are you familiar with the game ‘Timed Submission.' Tracy?”
The blonde shook her head.
“There are many different rules, many different versions. The version I play goes like this. The timer goes off, you bend over so I can spank you.
“The more submissive you are, the easier it goes for you. We start off with a wooden paddle. When the timer sounds, you bend over. If you bend over without thinking, you get one swat. If you hesitate for a fraction of a second you get two. Or three. Or four. It is entirely my decision.
“Once you accept your punishment, I switch to a leather paddle. Now, not only do you have to bend over, you have to wiggle you bottom to beg for a paddling.
“Once you've accepted you punishment gladly, I switch to a bare hand. You don't have to do anything. I simply will spank you until I get tired. Doesn't that sound like a fun game?”
Tracy shook her head. Ronor would have been disappointed if she had agreed to it.
“Do you have any suggestions about how long to set the timer?” he asked the concierge.
“It will take a while to process your wife. I think half a minute would be sufficient.”
Ronor set the timer on a stand against the wall. He pushed the plunger down.
Thirty seconds later, it chimed.
“Time.”
The blonde looked over at him, then turned her head to stare forward. She was not going to play their little games.
Like she had a choice.
Ronor approached the captive with the wooden paddle in his hand. She looked back at him, but did not bend over.
He grabbed her bound hands, jerking in them in the air. As her arms rose, her head was down. She bent her knees a little and thrust her bottom out.
Smack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
Smack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
Smack!
Ronor said nothing to the captive, but returned to the stand where he pushed the plunger down again.
“Time.”
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!”
Smack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
The beautiful blonde shook her head as she tried to pull her arms to the side so he could not grab her hands. That did not stop him. Her arms rose in the air, her bottom stuck out.
Smack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
Smack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
She sobbed, as though her tears would get her mercy.
“Time.”
Smack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
Smack!
Smack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
Few slave girls accepted as many as twenty swats on the fanny before sticking her bottom out when ordered. The fifth time the timer chimed, Stacy bent over when he said “Time” but straightened up at his approach. She did the same the seventh time.
On the eighth, she remained bent over though her sobbing was annoyingly loud.
She bent over before the timer chimed the ninth time.
“Wiggle your butt if you want me to use the leather paddle.”
The blonde swayed it back and forth.
“That was pathetic.”
“She is a new slave girl.”
“Maybe she needs butt wiggling training.”
Whomp!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
Despite her protests, a blow from the leather paddle did not hurt as much as one from the wooden paddle.
Whomp!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
Before Ronor could finish this phase of the blonde's training, a mistress interrupted them.
“Your other guests are ready for processing.”
Ronor looked at the concierge and raised his eyebrows.
“No, it's not Sherry. Perhaps you would like to look in on how we take care of some of our other guests.”
The two walked from the room, leaving Tracy bound for further spanking. Ronor would return to her for the remainder of her training, though perhaps he might have to start over.
“We specialize is controlling slave girls by their assholes.”
“What?”
Surely he had heard him wrong.
“Their assholes. What the asshole lacks in esthetic pleasure, it makes up for in sure degradation for the slave girl. We are the world's experts in that type of control and training. As a matter of fact, there are a couple of Amazons here to observe our techniques. They said something about wanting to use it in a ‘school for slave girls.'”
When we left Vicki and Gail, they were in a fight over who would wear the blue bridesmaid's dress. Or were they fighting over who would wear the green? It's so petty that it doesn't matter. The bride hadn't really planned on them being in the wedding. She brought them along as a wedding present for her husband-to-be.
We certainly hope Vicki wanted to wear the blue dress because that was the color motif she wore. Not being a real slave girl (yet), she wore a blue satin choker. Her high-heeled pumps matched in the hue of the choker, as did the shoulder-length satin gloves she wore.
That was all she wore, unless we count the single-glove. The leather was dyed to match the shoes, choker and gloves. (The bride paid extra for this.) The rubber ball of the ballgag was the same shade of blue while the leather strap holding it in her mouth was dyed white.
Her blonde hair was still pinned to the back of her head, but we all know it won't remain their very long.
Gail's outfit matched her rival's except hers was a brilliant green. Her dark hair was pinned to the back of her head, but had come partly undone as the result of her violent efforts to keep from being bound and gagged.
“Come over here so you can get a better view.”
Two French Maids dragged Vicki to a spanking bar. Resting on the floor on the far side was a heavy iron weight with a large ring on top. Just short of the bar, they stopped so a third French Maid could attach a metal clamp to each nipple.
The beautiful blonde's struggles grew less, as she was afraid they were going to pinch that sensitive part of her body. The clamps remained in place, but were not so tight as to cause pain, just discomfort and embarrassment.
Vicki watched as the French Maid moved around to the other side of the spanking bar. She knelt, passing a small chain through the ring on the weight.
The other two French Maids waited until she looked up. They then pushed their captive forward, forcing her down across the bar by raising her legs. Vicki thrashed about as she tried to keep them from fasten her nipples to the weight. I did not occur to her that the slave girl seemed in no hurry to do the job.
Vicki could not see that they manhandled Gail the same way they did her. While the French Maid fumbled around with the chain, pretending to want to attach them to the nipple clamps, they bent the brunette over a spanking bar while a French Maid pretended to ready another chain.
When both were ready, one whipmistress gave the signal with a nod of her head. Two others attacked the naked captives with adjustable butt plugs.
These butt plugs were rubber tubes with a steel shaft down the center. At one end were a washer and the head of a nut. The other end was threaded.
As soon as the captives could not see what they were doing, the whipmistress greased up the rubber tubes. At their approach, the slave girls pulled the captives' legs further apart and higher into the air. Vicki and Gail were so concerned about having that heavy weight attached to their nipples or being dropped on their heads, that they never realized the threat came from behind. Before either could react, the whipmistress slipped the tube into their asses.
The whipmistress added a large handle to the threaded end of the steel rod and turned it rapidly.
“This action draws the steel shaft down the inside of the rubber tube, flattening the tube and spreading it out. This becomes a solid block against the sphincter muscle. There is no way it can be removed without the handle.”
Once she had it tightened all the way, each whipmistress removed the handle. Gripping the base with a 10 mm end wrench with one hand, she used a pair of pliers to grab the end of the shaft. The threaded holding the two pieces together was left-handed so using the handle did not loosen the connection. She slipped the shaft into a pocket, replacing it with a much shorter piece that had a ring on the end.
She attached a leash to the ring, then nodded to the French Maids to raise the captive so she could stand.
“Stand” was perhaps not the right word. Each half-squatted with her legs spread and her knees bent.
The whipmistress pulled off the nipple clamps. They would not need them now. She put them in a pocket for later.
“Come along.”
A tug on the leash to the butt plug told them to come along.
The pull on the leash was constant so they could not turn around. All they could do was shuffle their feet backwards.
Now this movement would have been difficult for trained slave girls. Imagine the problem two young women unused to stiletto heels would have. They moved their feet quickly a couple centimeters at a time as they slowly back their way across the room. Their pace was too slow for the mistress holding the leash. She continued to exert much pressure on the leash. The naked captive felt constantly this foreign object shove up her ass.
Each had trouble walking. Gail lost a shoe before they reach the door.
“Oh! We warned you about losing your shoes. This deserves punishment.”
The beautiful brunette shook her head but there was nothing she could do. The whipmistress holding her leash used a fistful of hair to pull her head back. That forced the young beauty to arch her body. The whipmistress giving the instructions pulled out a switch as she advanced on the captive.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
Four red welts appeared on each bare tittie.
With a nod, she told her co-worker to continue on with Gail.
As the brunette shuffled off, she turned her attention to Vickie.
“Since she was punished, don't you think you should be?”
Quiet naturally, the blonde disagreed. She shook her head.
“Wrong answer.”
The whipmistress arched the blonde's body by pulling on her hair.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
“Now, do you think you need to be punished?”
The blonde nodded as best she could.
Crack! Crack!. Crack! Crack!. Crack! Crack!. Crack! Crack!.
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
“Do you think you deserve some more?”
Vicki tried to hold back the tears. Slowly she nodded, her eyes watching the mistress with the whip in hopes that she was just kidding.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Mmmmmfffffttttt!!”
As she used her right hand to slide the switch in her belt, her left kneaded the blonde's right tittie.
“I do so enjoy punishing blondes. They enjoy it so much.”
Both mistresses erupted into giggles.
Vicki was unsure which was worst: being led around by a plug stuck up her ass, having her tits switched, or having them laugh at her.
Ronor and the concierge followed them from the room and down the hall. By the time they reached the reception hall, Gail waited facing a table. The other whipmistress led Vicki to the wall with windows, placing her so her back was to them.
“Spread your legs apart. Bend over and show everyone how proud you are of the plug in your butt.”
She could not say that without giggling.
The third whipmistress brought with her a pair of the French Maids. These comesome lasses now had their hands bound securely behind their backs. Facing the first French Maid, she jerked down on the bodice of her outfit, exposing her large tits. Taking a step to the left, she repeated the action.
She led both to one end of the table. After removing the leash, she grabbed one by the back of the neck to force her to bend over. Leading the second to the far end, she repeated the process.
While we can think of more pleasant ways of using two pairs of boobs, using them to hold down the tablecloth certainly is creative.
The whipmistress who had led Gail into the room was busy fastening a leather strap about the beautiful brunette's calves immediately below the knee. When he straightened up, the other two lifted the naked captive in the air and set her down on the table. They twisted her around so she faced the end of the table where the French Maid had her tits pressed against the tablecloth.
“Move over a little to the left. Now move forward. A little more. A little more. A little more. That's it! Now move you knees apart. Further. Further! Further!!”
The third whipmistress squatted beside Vicki to fasten a leather strap to her calves. In seconds they had her on the table, facing away from Gail.
“Now back up. Back up. Back up. A little more. That's it! Now move your knees apart. You'll know when to stop.”
She stopped when her knees struck Gail's.
Quickly they attacked a small padlock to rings on each set of straps. This left their legs bound together. Neither could alter the position of her legs without the cooperation of her sister-captive and since each wore a ballgag, we know that was not going to happen.
The third mistress knelt on the table as her co-workers moved to the ends of the table in front of the captives. Grabbing the slave girls by their long hair, they pulled them upright, then pushed them to their knees. With faces against knees, they were out of the way.
The whipmistress on the side threaded a small chain through the ring at Gail's ass, then at Vicki's. She then threaded each end through a pulley-like device. When she nodded her head, the two mistresses placed the hands on the captives' shoulders to push their bodies back so the bottomcheeks were pressed together. The third mistress jerked down on the working end of each chain to pull it through the device. Turning a knob of the side, she pulled all slack from the chain. As the slack disappeared, the two naked bottoms came together. No, more than that, they were tightly pressed together.
Each captive knelt with her head bowed down toward the tablecloth, her mind unable to comprehend what was happening to her. Things such as this never happened to spoiled princesses, did it?
Standing on opposite sides of the table, one mistress attached one end of a short chain to the ring at the end of the singleglove. Stepping to her left, she moved down next to the other captive's head. Using her left hand against the naked beauty's forehead, she jerked her head back so the captive had to stare straight ahead. Of course, each captive tried to resist, but what could she do?
The whipmistress threaded the working end of the chain through a ring at the back of the strap holding the rubber ball in her mouth. Once she had it through and had hold of the end again, she released her hold on the woman's forward. As she pulled, the pressure pulled the rubber ball deeper into the captive's mouth. All Gail and Vicki could do was hold their heads back. They quickly reached a point where the only way the captives could ease the pressure on their mouths was to raise her upper body.
The whipmistresses knew they were done when each woman stared straight ahead. She could not move her head to either side. All she could do was stare straight ahead.
Perfect.
“What we have is a pair of beautiful women. Spoiled. Generally obnoxious. Look at these beautiful titties. I imagine they are quite proud of them.”
As the concierge spoke, a whipmistress attached a clamp to each nipple. These clamps were not cruelly tightly, just snug enough that they would not come off.
The third whipmistress had retrieved a pair of silver serving trays that had chains dangling from each end. The chains on the ends came together to form one. They attached the end of a chain to a clamp.
“The titties become the basis of a serving tray.”
During the reception a French Maid stood tethered on either side of the captive's head. A crystal glass with a few centimeters of the bubbly was placed on the tray. Every time someone took one, a French Maid replaced it.
Ronor however, was not around for the reception.
A French Maid entered the room. Her role was that of messenger. She curtseyed before the concierge who pulled a note from between her breasts (that were pressed together by top).
“Oh! It seems that your lovely bride is ready.”
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