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Slave Girls in Bondage
Chapter 108
Being one of the foremost experts in his profession in the area, Canjac was on the “A” list when it came to social functions. His stopover in Carston was no different.
Canjac registered at the most expensive inn in town. He had time only to select a couple of slave girls to serve as French Maids (he got two – remember, he was on the “A” list) before the invitation came.
Marcus Fractus operated outside the big town. In the past, he had sold some goods to Canjac, but with the demise of DAMM and the pending collapse of the Amazons, our favorite slaver had no need for slave girls he did not acquire on his own. MF (as he like to be called) thought that perhaps he had done something to offend Canjac. His arrival in the same town that MF was running one of his schemes gave the latter the chance to impress the slaver.
“I call it Consumer Credit Unlimited. Easy credit. Low payments. Low interest. Quite lucrative. No one has noticed that the credit is only extended to young women. They love the money. They can buy all the shoes and bags they could ever dream of. There are even a couple of designers I’m negotiating with to open branch stores in town to stimulate more sales. Imagine the allure of that! Who could resist? Spend! Spend! Spend! That is what it is all about.”
“Until?”
“Until the credit level passes a certain threshold. At that point the minimum payment balloons. Yessireebob, Whacko! They have this huge payment they have to make. But anything is negotiable. Yessireebob. Anything is negotiable.
“The credit is extended – sometimes the credit level is even increased in exchange for one of their friends. You know they all they that one friend that they can tolerate but do not like. In exchange for her, the debt is extended.
“Once the first is turned over to me, the second and third are easy. Then alone and friendless, hurt with the guilt of what they have done, I offer then a job as a credit counselor.
“That is what we have here tonight. Half a dozen choice morsels who thought they were coming to a seminar on becoming a credit counselor. Instead, they provide a little show for us and find a profession much more suited for their bodies.”
Canjac liked the general idea, but his methods of turning women into slave girls was much more subtle. He knew MF preferred the direct approach – paddle a woman’s ass until she could not take more, then started spanking her in earnest. The only problem he had with the items he purchased from MF was that their bottoms were too sore for them to do much for a couple weeks.
The subtle approach was much better.
Still, he was stuck in this town for the night. He might as well have some fun out of it.
MF owned a training facility in the center of town that was near the building that supposedly was where the credit-counseling seminar would be. Most of the time he used it to train slave girls, or perhaps he would rent it out to others.
Tonight though it served as a place of submission.
“Would you like to see my trainers?
He led Canjac around in back where there were several kennels to keep his captives. Unlike our hero, he employed whipmistresses as he enjoyed the sound of a whip landing on soft flesh.
As MF and Canjac approached, a whipmistress pulled a blonde from a cage in one of the rooms.
“This is…” MF had to look at the little golden disk hanging from her collar. She was a blonde. Other than that he knew nothing about her. “Charli. Oh, yes, Charli! I remember her. She was in the last group I harvested.” As he said that he fondled her tittie.
Canjac noticed that she did not cringe when he felt her. He could see the warm redness on her hips and knew it extended around to bottom. It was not his way of turning a woman into a slave girl, but it was effective.
“Why don’t we use Charli as a test case to see how my trainers are prepared.”
He motioned the whipmistress to continue.
The mistress took the slave girl to a larger room where half a dozen bound and hooded slave girls waited. It was Charli’s turn to be prepared.
The whipmistress tethered the blonde to a chain hanging down from the ceiling. She crossed the room to a table to get a black leather hood.
Slave girls could do this, but it also was a form of bondage so it was not uncommon for a master or mistress to take delight in fastening the hood in place.
Though some slave hoods had a triangle hole for the nose, this one was molded so the nose was covered. Only the bottom was uncovered where the nostrils were.
Standing behind Charli, the mistress held the hood in the palm of her right hand. As she raised it toward the beautiful blonde’s face, she placed her left hand against the back of her victim’s head. The slave girl knew the utter futility of resisting so she did not try to stop the woman from pressing the leather bondage device against her face. Holding on to the captive’s head gave her better perspective on how to position it. She moved it above a little so the blonde’s nose fit in the depression designed for it. The mistress’s hold then moved from the blonde’s head to the left flap. She held it with a couple fingers while she grabbed the other flap between her thumb and index finger. She held the leather hood on the captive’s face.
Once she knew she had it on properly, she moved her right hand around in back. A lacing hung from a ring near the top of her head. The mistress grabbed one end with each hand. Back and forth she worked it as she looped it over hooks on both sides. At the bottom, she tied the ends into a large bow.
While she could tighten the lacing by pulled on the sections where they ran from one side to the other, she saw no need to do that. The final item on this part of her bondage was a leather posture collar that fit about the wearer’s neck. (It also covered the bow so no one could get at it without removing the collar first.)
Canjac knew the eyeholes in the hood made it difficult for the wearer to see to either side. The posture collar would force her to stare straight ahead. The result of her bondage was that she could see only straight ahead.
They were not finished with her slave hood yet. The final step was to fasten a blindfold across her eyes. It snapped to the hood midway between the eyes and ears so it could not slip from position.
Canjac knew the blindfold would come off shortly, or the slave hood would not have had eyeholes.
A broad leather belt encircled the blonde’s chest above her large titties. The ends buckled together in front (so there was no way the slave girl could get at the buckle). When the mistress finished rebinding the blonde, Canjac saw a leather cuff locked to each wrist. They bent each arm behind her back so it pointed to the opposite shoulder. They locked it in position using a small padlock to secure a ring on the cuff to the belt about her chest.
“I’ll take her,” MF said to the mistress who had attached a chain leash to the hood near where her collar was.
“I’ll show you the play area,” he said to Canjac as he tugged on the leash. The slave girl started forward.
They moved down a short hallway to an open room. Canjac could tell the room was used for some sort of fun with slave girls as it had seats on three sides. In the center was a metal post. From the bracket mounted on top, Canjac saw that it was used to have slave girls parade about it.
Four slave girls stood in the room at four different places around a circle. They could not move from the spot as each ankle wore a leather cuff. A chain ran between it and a ring in the floor.
MF secured Charli to a ring 45 degrees in the circle beyond the last slave girl.
“Come up here, have a seat. The contest will begin soon.”
They time they were seated, a sixth slave girl had been added. As French Maid delivered cold drinks, the last slave girl was secured in position.
At this point, the spectators were allowed in. Some were MF’s retainers, others were prospective buyers. Some were men (and women) who enjoyed beautiful young women being turned into slave girls.
“Each one of these eight has her own scorer who will record the number of whacks she delivers to the woman’s bottom. A blow to the lower back or the thighs does not count. It has to be a blow to the fanny, right where it is the roundest and meatiest.”
“Who wins?”
“Seven of them win. The eighth slave girl, the one who delivers the fewest blows, she gets to perform here herself. Here comes last month’s loser.”
Knowing her fate, two guards had to drag the slave girl into the room. She kicked and twisted, but since she bound as a slave girl, nothing she did would help her. In most cases, her actions would have resulted in further punishment. Well, she would still get extra paddling for her efforts, but she knew she was in for it anyway.
They flipped the slave girl onto her back. One man held her feet in the air, the other retrieved a spreader bar. The slave girl thrashed about but did little to stop the man from buckling one leather cuff to her left thigh immediately above the knee. The man had to step around her head to get at the other ankle. When he stepped back, the slave girl could not pull her legs together.
Usually, a spreader bar was used to allow unlimited access to the captive’s pussy, but MF used the spreader bar for a different reason.
When the man left go of her legs, the slave girl fell back limply. Her fate was determined.
They let her lay there while they retrieved a three-meter long pole. One end hooked on that center pole. The man gave it a shove to make certain it would rotate freely about that center pole.
While the pole could rotate only counterclockwise, it did have some flexibility when it came to moving up and down. The movement was only a few centimeters down from 90 degrees. It would not move below a certain fixed point.
The man swung it around so it was near the starting point. (If you consider that Canjac and MF sat in the six o’clock position, the starting point was at three o’clock.) The two men then hauled the slave girl to her feet, rotating her a few degrees so she faced the two men. One man held her upper body as the other attached the pole near the end to her collar. She could move, but only in a circle around the center post.
They pushed her down as far as the pole would allow. A chain from her collar to a ring on the spreader bar insured that she could not straighten up.
Other men and women moved into the punishment area to prepared the eight slave girls standing around the circle. The right hand was released, but a leather glove was strapped to the hand. To the glove was attached a switch.
The two men had not been idle during this time. One man tied one end of a rope to the naked captive’s left wrist. The other man held her arms up away from her fanny as the first man passed it over the right shoulder, under the arm, across the back, under the left arm, over the left shoulder, and down to the right wrist.
The captive’s hands were held up away from her fanny so she could not use them to protect the target area.
Quickly, the punishment area cleared of people. When MF nodded at some unseen watcher, a bell rang.
Instantly, Charli swung the switch down against the captive’s bare ass.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!”
The slave girl tried to straighten up, but could not.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!”
The starting position was the perfect area for Charli to whack her bottom.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!”
Eventually she got the idea. She had to race around the circle.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!”
Well, perhaps race is not the word to use. She had to lift her foot in the air. When she set it down, it was in the same position from which it had begun.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!”
She tried the right foot. Maybe she got half a centimeter. It was not much. At that rate, she would suffer hundreds of swats before she finished her first circuit.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!”
As she moved out of Charli’s reach, she moved into the target area of the next slave girl.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!”
The blows began on the side of the hip. As the helpless slave girl waddled closer, the blows moved across her bottom. When she passed the switch welding slave girl, the blows moved over to her right hip, but never around the side.
Almost immediately, she moved into range of the third slave girl.
“How many circuits do you have her make?”
“It all depends. If she moved quickly to minimize the number of swats, she might make it perhaps as many as three times around, never more than that. This one has a rather endearing clumsiness about her. I think she will learn her lesson in only one circuit.”
A guard placed a switch across Charli’s arm, telling her not to swing again when the little slave girl arrived back at the starting position.
“Well, people, what do you think? Has she learned her lesson, or does she do another trip around?”
Everything thought she should make another circuit.
The slave girl stared at the ground before her, sobbing as she knew her fate was not in her hands.”
The people booed when MF signaled the guard to release her. In seconds she was on her knees before her master, using her mouth to show that she appreciated that he had not ordered another lap around the circle.
The next victim of this vicious game was brought in. She was not a slave girl. She did not wear a slave collar. She held the hope that she could get out of this without being turned into a slave girl.
She kicked and twisted about in a vain try to get free. Nothing was going to do her any good. Two men held her arms while a third tried to grab her feet. When he snagged one foot, she planted a kick on the side of his head. He was ready when she tried again. He grabbed the second foot with his free hand.
As he drew them together, he pulled them upward, pinning them against his chest. They dragged her across the ground a few meters where a chain dangled down from an overhead pulley. At the end was a strap that he wrapped about her ankles. The strap had one ring mounted on it. At the end was a steel hook. He knew he had it snug when he could fit the hook through the ring.
With this done, the captive could not move from this position.
By pulling on the other end of the chain, they drew her a little into the air. They did not move her far, just enough she her head cleared the floor.
The captive work slacks but they provided little protection when they were ready to cut them off. A few swipes here and there left her naked from the waist down (or is it waist up?) except for her panties. There was no need for them so they came off too.
All attention had been on the captive so Canjac had not noticed that attached to the rope was a red piece of cloth. That cloth was the reason for the rope as the entire bondage situation contradicted the eight slave girls with switches.
They allowed the captive to dangle there for a while. After struggling a bit she would realize that she could not escape. When she gave up, they were ready to move to the next step of their plan.
While one man held the captive’s body steady, another pulled the cloth down. It turned out to be a cylinder of red cloth, cut to contour the curves of the captive. The cylinder was almost too small. A second man had to join in pulling it down. From about mid-thigh down to her hips the cylinder was almost too small to slid, but the men did not intend to allow this form of adversity stand in their way. As difficult as it had been getting it up her thighs, getting it over her deliciously round hips provided to be an almost insurmountable problem. They continued to struggle, and soon showed the value of perseverance.
They lowered the captive to the ground and dragged her to the starting position. The cylinder was so snug that she was certain she would never be able to walk it in. She did not have to try though.
While these men had been dressing the captive, two more men attached a protruding rod to the central column. That this one was more complicated was evident as the two had to adjust it once they had it in position. They rotated it about the central post a few times to insure that it worked properly, then went back to work to adjust it.
They secured the captive to the end of the device as they had the previous slave girl. This one did not wear a collar, but they were able to compensate for that. The device had its own leather strap attached to it. They pulled it about the captive’s neck and buckled it.
“This is ingenious. I wish I could take credit for designing it, but I bought the concept from a traveling drummer.
“As she walks about the circle, the dowitchy to which she is attached slowly moved toward the central post. If she can circle around enough times that the arm will not rotate, I set her free.”
“Has anyone made it?”
“Hell, no. No one has made more than three circuits. It takes about eight times around to get out of range of the switches. She has to complete one circuit before the device will allow her to kneel. Most can only suffer through one lap. A few can do two. Only one has ever made it through three.”
As he finished his explanation, MF rose to move down to the playing field to explain the rules to the captive. She heard little of it as she refused to believe what was happening to her.
When he finished, MF returned to his seat. He had not yet given the order for the contest to begin because he wanted to watch it all for himself.
“Begin.”
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!!”
Crack! Crack!
The second cry of pain was hidden by the sound of the switch striking her bottom for a third time.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!!”
By now the captive decided she had better move but what she did was discover just how little mobility she had with the hobble skirt. As hard as she tried, her knees would not move.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!!”
Canjac and MF watched the material of the skirt bulge where her knees were as she tried to move them.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!!”
The beautiful captive looked down as she tried to get her feet moving. Her knees were as immobile as though they had tied them together. She would have to use her feet.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!!”
That was simpler to think of than it was to do. She moved her left foot forward perhaps a whole centimeter.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!!”
Then the right. Then the left.
Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!!”
She continued to shuffle her feet forward, but the entire time she was within range of Charli.
Once she passed out of her reach, she came within range of the next slave girl.
Crack! Crack!
“Mmmmmffffftttt!!”
When she was in front of Canjac and MF, her forward movement ceased for a few seconds. MF knew what was happening even before he saw her knees flex against the material.
He nudged Canjac with is elbow.
“Look! She’s trying to knee but the pole won’t let her until she has done a full circuit.”
While she presented a stationary target to the third slave girl, a switch continued to fall on her bottom.
“Are you going to tell her that?”
“I told her once. After a few more blows, she will get the idea.”
It took the beautiful captive more than twenty minutes to complete a circuit. Canjac began counting the blows, but he lost track when MF distracted him.
As soon as the support holding up the pole stopped, she fell to her knees.
She was all too happy to accept a slave girl from MF.
“What do you think?” MF asked as he beamed in pride.
“Crude, but effective.”
They dragged her over so she could submit to her master. In the background, they dragged in the next captive for her turn to submit.
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