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Steve Glennis was extremely happy when we finally got Lady Marchmont shipped across to him. As he said, “It’s taken a while but it’s been worth the wait.” He hadn’t wasted any time in putting her to use. “Had her out on a trotting rig this afternoon,” he said. She looks pretty good. Gonna take a lot of training of course. She’s got a few stripes on her buttocks – makes a change for the driver I guess - but she’ll learn.”
Rachel was recovering. The Doc finally let me in to see her. She held my hand tightly when I sat down beside her on the bed. “It happened again.”
“I know, Rachel. The doctor thinks she’s isolated the cause. It was lucky we caught you in time.”
Rachel nodded quietly. “I was frightened,” she said. “It was just like the first time, but worse somehow.”
Yes, I thought, this time it was real.
“But I’m much better now. I want to get back to work. It’s so important. I know you need the script and you know I want to finish it. I thought I could do the voice over. If you’d like me to? Please let me. I’ll be well enough.”
“We’ll see.” I wasn’t at all sure.
The Doc was looking encouraging. “If you feel strong enough, Rachel,” she said, “I’m sure we can do that. It will be better for you to have something to focus on.”
Rachel smiled and nodded. “How’s Sukie?” she asked.
“She was very worried about you,” I said. “She cares a lot for you. She was so sorry - it was her cake that did this.”
Rachel nodded slowly. “I didn’t mean to scare her. Or you. I don’t know why I’ve suddenly developed this condition. I’ll just have to be careful about what I eat I guess.”
“No more walnuts, at least,” said the Doc. Rachel grinned.
“Now when can I get back to my exercises? I’m missing them so much? I need to be doing them every day at least. And what are we doing about the owner’s programme when can we get started on that?”
“Hey,” I said. “Let’s take the recovery slowly. Finish the script for the buyer’s event. Do the voice over if you’re well enough. Start back on exercises when the Doc says it’s OK and we’ll think about the rest after that. OK?”
Rachel smiled. “Thank you, Sir,” she said. “I’m sure that very thing is going to be fine.”
I thought she was probably right.
While Rachel recovered we were able to pick up one of the others on my short list as a substitute for delivery to Constanza. The upper classes are such free-loaders they’re always easy to entice into somewhere that they can be introduced to a few lengths of rope and a strip or two of tape. The Honourable Diana Staples was no exception. Invited to a luncheon with the proposition that there might be an opportunity for her to act as a celebrity reviewer of restaurants for a new, up-market, leisure magazine, she jumped at the chance. I guess she figured if nothing else she’d get a good meal out of it and the chance to get some very expensive champagne down her neck.
The only trouble is champagne is one of the easiest wines in which to conceal something. Let’s say something even more relaxing than champagne usually is. Especially when you’re into your second bottle.
The hotel was very accommodating. Could they provide a room for our guest to sleep things off? Of course! Would they make sure she wasn’t disturbed? Naturally. Would they be happy if we settled the bill for that straight away so that she wouldn’t be caused any embarrassment later? Without any difficulty.
The collection team knew she’d be out for hours. They slipped in and took her out the back way in the early morning. We were all discussing the problems of running a restaurant like this with the manager, a perfect alibi if anyone was concerned.
As it happened they weren’t. Everyone assumed that she’d wandered off, still drunk. Of course finding her clothes by the river did make them all think she’d gone for a late night swim. It wasn’t really a surprise that nothing was found of her, it being so close to the sea and everything. And in her state, who knows what might have happened to her?
Well we did. And of course she wouldn’t be needing her clothes anytime soon, so it all worked out very conveniently. Constanza decided she wanted to do her own prep work, so the Honourable Diana was crated and shipped as quick as you like.
It suited Freddie; he doesn’t like leaving debts outstanding for long.
The hospitality event for the buyers turned out OK. We decided to give it a bit of a Kushtian theme with the entertainments wearing Kushtian headdresses and veils, if nothing else. Probably not very authentic but I doubt if it mattered given the audience. Certainly our guests seemed to appreciate it as the almost naked girls brought the food in at dinner time. We’d started off with Elly’s talk. It was pretty well received. She even managed a few jokes although I guess purchasing guys aren’t usually that long on humour. We had a break after that to give them a chance to mingle with one another and with some of our team. Then it had been back into the presentation theatre for Rachel’s video.
She’d done a first rate job. After the
opening titles and the Clegg logo, a caption screen had come up saying….”This
is the story of how two slaves came to their present position. How Clegg
Enterprises identifies, acquires and prepares its products.” It moved into a
section on research with Rachel providing the commentary. “We build a complete
picture, carefully researching every aspect of their lives.” The film moved on
to a shaky, grainy, black and white shot of women walking in to a rather bland,
modern building. “
The camera carrier took a seat halfway down the room. The picture zoomed shakily in to the podium at the front of the room. A woman in her mid-forties, wearing dungarees and a scarf knotted around her neck took the stage and waved to the audience. “Welcome Sisters,” she said with a wave to the audience. “Thank you for turning out to support this meeting. It’s great to see such a good crowd here. As you know one of our concerns has been to explore the condition of women in the countries emerging from the Russian empire and I’m very pleased to be able to welcome distinguished anthropologist and champion of many feminist causes, Dr Karen Armstrong.” There was a round of applause as Dr Armstrong took the stage. I was trying to remember where I’d heard of Armstrong before.
Dressed comfortably in tan slacks and a loose sweater she smiled appreciatively, obviously completely at home presenting to an academic audience. “Dr Armstrong has recently returned from Kushtia where she has been researching the condition of women in the northern tribes. Her articles for Anthropology Today and National Geographic have highlighted the challenges that exist in bringing a more enlightened view of women’s rights to the country. I’m sure she has a fascinating presentation for us…” As Karen stepped up to the rostrum, the camera swung around to point back up the hall towards the door. Two girls were arriving late. The camera tracked them, watching as they took their seat a couple of rows behind where the camera was. The camera zoomed in on each in turn, both blonde, both in their early twenties, one a little fuller figured than the other, both smiling and waving to the camera holder, though not, you thought, to the camera. More hidden camera footage followed. The girls in the university canteen; sitting outside one of the university buildings; getting onto bicycles and cycling out of shot. There was a shot from the viewpoint of someone working their way through a darkened office by the light of a flash light, the light stopped on a filing cabinet drawer, the drawer opened, a gloved hand rummaged through a series of files and pulled two out, leafing through their contents. “Student Record” each said on the front cover. The camera lingered on some of the documents, they were obviously being studied. The files were put back in the drawer and the drawer closed. The light of the flashlight moved back through the office, panning across a desk with a notice on it saying “Admissions Secretary”. As it got to the door it fell on the bound ankles of a woman. The light moved up the woman showing her laying on the floor, hogtied, gagged and blindfolded, struggling impotently beside a ransacked office safe as whoever was carrying it left the office.
Rachel’s voice returned on the soundtrack. “… And that research is directed to one thing, an efficient, undetected collection that does the least possible damage to the goods with the least risk to ourselves and, of course, our clients.” The shot dissolved to a country scene, with fields and woods, as the camera turned a lake came into view. From out of shot, one of the girl’s bicycles came freewheeling down across the field, with no one to guide it, the bike shot over a low bank and into the lake sinking quickly beneath the surface. The second bicycle followed it moments later and the camera panned around to the figures of the two girls, laying on the grass, their wrists taped behind them, tape plastered across their faces as a gag. Evidently distressed, the two were wriggling in an attempt to escape from their bonds.
There were a few chortles of appreciation from the audience as the girls wriggled some more.
Rachel’s voice over came on again. “Collection is followed by training, the preparation that makes the new slaves ready for their new owners.” The view changed to some footage shot in one of the Prep Centre’s reception rooms. The two girls were sitting bound and gagged on the floor. A figure appeared and was heard to say, “Good morning, ladies. Please don’t be alarmed. You are perfectly safe here as long as you do as you are told.” The girls looked puzzled. “Perhaps I should explain,” the voice said. “You are here to be trained as slaves. You’ll be sold for the sexual amusement of your new owners.” The girls looked at one another, wide eyed with disbelief and terror. “But as long as you do as you are told you’ll be quite safe.” He reached forward stripping off the gags of each girl in turn and then rolling them over on to their faces to cut the tapes that held their wrists and ankles.
“Please let us go,” the first girl said, “we’ll be no use to you. Please let us go.”
“Yes, we won’t say anything. Please,” the second one chimed in, clinging to her friend as the two of them sat on the floor.
“You,” the voice said to one of them, ignoring the girls’ pleas. “On your feet.” The girl looked back uncertain what to do. The man reached towards her with a short pole, touching her on the ankle. The girl cried in pain and drew her leg quickly back. “This will give you a shock every time I think you are not obeying me quickly enough. That was a mild one. Get to your feet!”
The girl looked more frightened than ever, clutched her ankle and slowly got to her feet, standing unsteadily with the pain in her leg.
“Good,” said the man. “Now undress.” The girl’s hands flew to her mouth. She shook her head in defiance. The other girl shouted, “No, we won’t.” and was rewarded with a shock from the wand for her trouble; obviously a sharper one that threw her back across the room. The man turned towards the first girl with the prod. She shook her head again – this time the look in her eyes was begging the man to come no closer. She pulled off her sweater to reveal a slim figure with small breasts. She unbuckled her belt and stepped out of her jeans. “Keep going,” the man said, gesturing with the pole. She looked down at her companion sobbing as she pulled off first her bra and then finally her pants. She tried to cover herself one hand across her crotch the other at her breasts. The man shook his head and gestured with the pole. She dropped her hands to her sides.
The audience gave a raucous cheer.
“By the wall,” the man waved her over with the pole and turned to her companion. “You next. Do the same.” She only needed the threat of the pole to encourage her to her feet and to begin stripping. Slightly more heavily built than her friend with bigger, fuller breasts with large aureolas, her nakedness on the video earned a bigger cheer.
Rachel’s voice returned as the two girls were herded to one side of the cell, hands on their heads, feet slightly apart. “And so their training begins. A long process, taking weeks.” The man kept them under threat of the prod with one hand while running his free hand over their bodies, feeling their breasts and bellies. “And at the end – compliant slaves read for use in sexual roles, for domestic tasks or for what ever purpose their eventual owner desires.”
I took my cue from the script that Rachel had provided. As the film flickered to its conclusion, I stepped onto the low stage, leading two slaves by chains to their neck collars. Each of the two were naked except for their veils and head-dresses. The eyes, heavily made up, kohl rimmed, lashes long and thick with mascara, peered out over their veils at the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “You’ve seen how we acquire and prepare our products. For the rest of the evening, we’d like you to sample them.” I jerked the veils from the two girls, revealing them as the girls from the video. The audience cheered again. The girls looked nervous but did not resist as I led them down into the body of the room. Six others were brought in at the same time, enough for each of our guest to have their own slave for a few hours. They all seemed willing to take advantage of our hospitality and the girl’s availability.
It was late before the event finished and our guests retired. Rachel and Sukie were waiting for me in the suite that Brad had arranged for us. The Doc had been happy enough with Rachel’s progress to let her come down provided that Sukie took care of her. Sukie had been grateful for the chance to be together with her friend again. They had obviously already been playing together, straps and handcuffs lay on the bed, Sukie was wearing a bright green strap-on that they’d borrowed from the Sexualisation programme. Rachel was kneeling up on the bed, naked and smiling. “How did it go? How was the video? Did it work?”
“It was fine,” I said. “They enjoyed it. It had the effect we wanted. Feed back from the buyers is that they hadn’t realised that there was so much in what we did, which is a result as far as we’re concerned. Well done Rachel, the video made a big difference. But how are you?”
“Fine,” she said, “I’m fine. And so is Sukie. Aren’t you?” Sukie nodded bashfully. Rachel smiled happily and clapped her hands. “And are we going to play now?”
“Why not?” I said, “I think I’ve earned some fun today.” And the three of us fell together.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to this
first session of our training programme.”
It had fallen to me to kick off the first
of the Slave Owners 101 as it had come to be called. We’d converted a wing of
the Sales Centre to provide some lecture rooms and a couple of rooms for
practical work as well of course as the cells to provide secure accommodation
for our “training aids”.
We’d brought together a group of five for
this first session. Freddie had canvassed some of our existing customers and
got them to recommend people. Two of our trainees were members of the family of
existing owners, one had just bought their first slave, the two others were
prospective owners, using the course as a way of seeing how slave owning would
work out for them.
Rachel had worked on the programme with
some of the guys from Rick’s operations team. We’d put together some sessions
that covered tools of the trade, security, discipline and training, slave
welfare, and (not unnaturally) buying and selling.
The group were pretty attentive as I ran
through the schedule. All of them looked enthusiastic when I said that we aimed
to spend as little time as possible in the classroom; we wanted them to have as
much practical experience as possible, I said, and there were rooms equipped so
that each of them would have their own one-on-one slave handling sessions.
We introduced them to the five slaves that
they would be working with, Beth, Ella, Carol, Alice and Sarah too. It was good to have the two older women and
two youngsters as a mix, plus of course there was a real benefit in having
Sarah who wasn’t as compliant as the other four that had been through the
programme. We aimed to move the slaves around between the students so that
they’d all get a chance to work with each of them.
Having told them about what we planned to
cover, I handed over to one of Rick’s teams to kick off the session on security.
He started off by writing the on one of the flip charts. “There Are Only Two
Things You Have To Remember About Security.” He turned back to the audience.
“Does anyone want to take a guess?”
The audience managed to look both blank and
interested. He turned back to the board and started writing again. “1. You have to be lucky all the time. 2. The
slave only has to be lucky once.”
The audience gave a laugh. He launched into
his talk. “This is all about how you make sure that your slaves don’t get lucky,”
he said, “and how you can make sure that you don’t have to be quite as lucky as
you might think.”
I left them to it. Rachel was waiting when
I got back to the apartment. She had just emerged form the shower. “You just
missed the Doc,” she said.
“What did she say? Is she happy with how your doing? I mean you seem fine to me now, but…”
“I’m fine,” said Rachel, “completely OK.
She say’s I can go back onto the programme from tonight.” I looked concerned. “It’s fine, Sir, really. This second attack just made me more
determined. I am not going to let anything stand in my way. I’m doing a good
job aren’t I? The buyer’s conference went well, didn’t it? The training course
will be good too, just wait and see.”
“But do you need to do more of the
programme?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said chiding. “Of
course. I have to finish the whole thing. You wouldn’t want me to turn around
and whack you again like I did the first time I had the chance, would you?” She
giggled, recalling her escape attempt when she had first been brought to the
centre.
I smiled ruefully in response, remembering
the lump that the keyboard had raised on the back of my head, not to mention
the embarrassment of being found hogtied with computer cables and a mouse
jammed in my mouth as a gag. “Not at all. You’d better get off to the training
room straight away then. I much prefer the current Rachel.”
“Yes,” she said gathering up her things.
“So do I.”
I watched her go. As I turned back I saw
that Sukie had come into the room. I hadn’t heard
her. “She is going to be alright, isn’t she?” Sukie
said.
I could see she looked worried. I took her
in my arms. “Sukie, I’m sure she’s going to be fine.”
Sukie put her head against my shoulder, her long
black hair spilling down behind my back. “The Doc’s going to do a battery of
allergy sensitivity tests so we’ll know what to look out for in future. And
she’ll have a crash medical kit to keep with her. It wasn’t anything you did.
We were lucky it happened here where the Doc was on hand. Imagine if it had happened
to Rachel somewhere that she was on her own.”
Sukie sniffed back a tear. She lifted up her head and nodded. “Thank
you,” she said. “Can I do anything for you? Some tea? Or,” she smiled, “some
play?”
I looked down into her almond eyes. Her
offer was tempting. I ran my hand down the soft smoothness of the hair that
framed her face. “It will have to be tea for now,” I said. “I have to do some
more work for the training course, and I don’t intend to deliver a session on
advanced sexual debauchery with you as a training aid.”
Sukie giggled. “We’ll keep that for in here,” she said. “I’ll bring you
some tea.”
I spent about an hour working to put the
final touches on my session on buying and selling slaves and then went down to
see how the others were getting on.
The “Introduction to Security” session had
finished and the students were just getting back after a coffee break. They had
evidently found the first session interesting to listen to their chatter as
they returned to the training room. Another of Rick’s team was waiting for
them. On the flip chart at the front of the room. “Bondage Tools – Equipment
Range & Uses”.
The session started with a question
intended to get the audience thinking. “All right,” said he trainer, “what is
bondage for?”
This time the students looked truly
bemused. “Well, you’ve got to stop them wandering off haven’t you? I mean we’ve
been through all that in the session on security, haven’t we?”
“True,” said the instructor, “but is that
all?” He wasn’t getting any real response. “OK,” he said. “I’d like to suggest to you that there are
three basic roles that bondage will play n your slave-keeping. First is secure
restraint; your point,” he gestured to the student that had made the suggestion.
“But there are two others. The second is punishment. You’ll find that the
threat of punitive restraint can have a significant deterrent value in
maintaining discipline. Would anyone like to try for the third purpose?”
“Well, it’s quite good fun,” the same
student advanced, gaining nods of approval form his colleagues.
“Absolutely,” said the trainer. “That’s the
third purpose. Amusement. After all, if you are not enjoying the use of your
slaves, there really isn’t a lot of point to it. Don’t ever lose sight of that.”
He wrote the three words – Restraint, Punishment, Pleasure – on the board and
walked over to the door to the room. “Now let’s have a look at a selection of
devices and discuss just how we might use each of them in each of those
scenarios.” He opened the door and led in Beth, Ella, Carol, Alice and Sarah,
each secured and gagged in different ways, the four of them joined one to the
other by chains that linked their clave collars. Apart from the various bondage
devices they were all naked. The trainer brought forward each of the girls in
turn, asking the participants to call out the bondage items that they
recognised.
“Yes, ball gag, pretty much the general
purpose silencer. …. Good yes, that’s a single arm binder as you say or
sometimes called a bondage sleeve. …. This – yes a discipline collar or corset
collar. This one’s is quite an extreme version the turnbuckle here can be
extended to push the chin up and the head back. …… These are bondage mittens and this is a
ring gag – very definitely in the category of punitive restraint, that one I
would say, although you might feel that it has its amusements too.”
He carried on working along the line of
girls. Even with their conditioning as a result of the programme Beth and Ella
were obviously unhappy with being displayed in this way but as far as the tutor
was concerned this just added to the student’s experience. Beth was wearing a
rubber straight jacket and a hood with large ring shaped panels over the eyes.
The instructor wrestled a reluctant Beth to the front.
“This hood is particularly effective,” he said. “You’ll have noticed that it keeps the slave reasonably quiet but a nice feature is these goggles. They are equipped with two polarised lenses. You can simply rotate the outer lenses and the slave is immediately rendered unable to see.” He demonstrated. Beth became even more distressed as the polarised glass cut off her sight. Her muffled grunts of complaint served only to show that the instructor had been right about the hood’s gagging qualities.
My mobile phone buzzed. I picked it up. Steve Glennis was calling. I stepped out from the training room to take the call. “Hi, Steve,” I said.
“Hi,” he said. “The line was a bit crackly, I guessed he was calling from the island. Maybe out by the pool or down on the beach. Suddenly I felt like a holiday. “Just wanted to give you a heads up on my new driver.”
I guessed he was talking about Lady Marchmont. “I hope she’s doing all right for you.”
“Very good, very good. Firstly thanks for sending over her details and everything. Meant I could get the right gear for her. She’s looking real cute in this English riding habit, top hat, veil and everything, hair done up at the back in one of those little nets, looks like she’d win a mention for turn out in a dressage competition all on her own.”
“Great,” I said.
“And when it comes to driving she’s real aggressive. Drives a rig like her motor bike or one of those bob-sleigh things. She’s certainly exercising the ponies.”
Steve was obviously pretty pleased. “Well, don’t let her wear them out,” I said.
“No sir! No danger of that. Anyway I just thought I’d give you a call. I’m gonna take her up to the house now see if she’s as willing in the bedroom.” I heard a muffled squeal in the background. Her Ladyship, evidently gagged, was presumably in earshot. “I’ve suddenly got an urge to push that skirt up over her hips and sink myself into a British upper class cunt.” There was another squeal. Lady M was obviously having an impact on Steve, I couldn’t remember him ever being so crude in the past.
“Have fun,” I said. He hung up.
© 2006 Freddie Clegg
Download PDF copies of my other stories at my Yahoo
Group :
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
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