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Slave Girls in Bondage
Chapter 110
What we have are four sisters and one trust fund. The oldest, Chase, was rapidly approaching her twenty-fifth birthday. At that time she will become executrix of the trust. All four sisters benefit from the proceeds of the trust, but Chase thought her three sisters were wastrels when it came to money. She notified them that when she turned twenty-five, when she took control of the trust fund, things would change.
As that day grew nearer, the eldest of the three remaining sister, a brown-eyed beauty named Janice, suddenly much money. Too much money it seemed. Chase suspected her sister was up to something nefarious. She did not know what it was, but she was going to find out.
Day-by-day, Janice’s behavior became more suspicious. She would leave the house, not returning until morning. Chase had to know what she was up to, but her sister carefully covered her tracks.
Then one day she made a mistake. Chase saw Janice read a note, wad it up, and then toss it in a trashcan. The oldest sister waited until she had left the room before rushing to the can. She now had a clue what was going on.
Or so she thought.
Following the instructions in the letter, Janice left town. Chase followed her sister as far as the city’s gates. She was not prepared to leave the safety of the town so she climbed to the top of a wall to watch. Janice continued down the street past several slavers’ compounds. Chase lost sight of her for almost a minute. She reappeared as she mounted the steps toward the door of an inn.
“What was she doing there?” She demanded when her sister returned home tonight.
“Where were you today?”
“Oh! I just went to Sharon’s.”
“Did the two of you go anyplace?”
“No. We just spent the day reading poetry.”
Having caught her sister in a lie piqued Chase’s curiosity. She had to find out, and she resolved to do it the next day.
At the door to the inn, Chase glanced warily to the right and left. No one was watching. She did not want anyone to see what she was doing.
The front desk was on the left as she entered. Two slave girls in little pink outfits knelt chained to desk. They would carry baggage up to the rooms if needed. A large sitting room faced the desk. Though it was midday, the room was dark, illuminated only by the fire in the fireplace. She merely glanced in that direction so she was unsure whether anyone was there or not.
She ignored the clerk at the front desk. She did not want anyone to remember her there. From the sounds, there was a tavern in back. Maybe she could learn something there simply by listening.
A stairway to the left beyond the front desk led upstairs. A narrow passageway to the tavern was beside it. She walked back it, trying to look confident.
She found an empty table to the side. As soon as she sat, a slave girl came to take her order.
“Oh, nothing. Oh, just a glass of imported water with a twist of lemon.”
The slave girl stared at her without understanding. Of course she could ask no questions as she wore a ballgag. The pink ball filling her mouth matched the rest of her outfit: pink satin halter top and pink satin miniskirt. The waitress/slave girl went to the bartender. She showed him her blank order pad.
“Lady, if you are going to sit here, we have a two drink minimum.”
The bartender had come over. As he talked to her, he dried his hands on a towel tucked in his belt. He had a rugged working-class look about him.
Chase did not intended to imbibe any alcohol here. She knew what happened to young women who wandered outside the city’s walls.
“I-“
“Excuse me. She’s with us.”
“I, uh…”
Two women had entered the tavern from the same direction she had come. She saw they did not wear black leather so they were not Amazons. They did not look like mistresses either. She hoped they were safe companions.
The bartender scowled at the women, paused as though he wanted to say something to the one who spoke, but returned to the bar without saying a word.
“Come on over. It’s not safe for a woman to be here alone.”
Chase was about to protest but realized the wisdom of the statement.
“Thank you. My name is…Penny.”
A fake name was the best approach.
“I’m Myrtle and this is Gertrude.”
“Hi.”
The slave girl brought the water with the twist of lemon. When she saw the bill,
Chase’s eyes opened wide in shock. She did not have the money to pay for the drink. The bill lay on the table before her. It was twenty pfennings, far more than she had. “You don’t have enough money, do you?” Myrtle asked. The beautiful brunette could not meet her gaze. She shook her head just a little.
“Put it on our tab,” she said to the slave girl who scurried back to the bartender.
“Who is your friend? Maybe we have seen him.”
“No. You wouldn’t know him. He’s not from around here.”
Myrtle gestured across the room with her drink.
“Look at the ass of that slave girl. I count four stripes on her bottom. Gertrude thinks she is new to the collar. I think she just doesn’t serve well.”
The slave girl took an order at a table several feet to their left. While she wrote down what the two men seated there wanted to drink, one man fondled her bottom. The slave girl acted as though it did not happened. Chase saw four red stripes on her bare bottom. As soon as she had the order, she hurried across the room, taking quick, short steps in the high heels.
“I don’t know,” she said as she took a sip of the drink. “This doesn’t taste right. It tastes funny.”
Myrtle took the drink to sniff it.
“I think it’s because they used a lime instead of a lemon. Take another sip and see if you agree.”
She sipped it, then thought about it as she stared across the room.
“I don’t know.”
“Have you ever had water with a twist of lime?”
“Noooo.”
“Then that must be it.” She lifted her glass of ale in a toast. “To a bumper crop of lemons.”
Chase felt compelled to take another drink as part of the toast. Things started to go out of focus before she could set the drink down. She closed her eyes tightly for a few seconds. When she opened them, everything was still out of focus.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t think…”
“Here. You need another drink.”
Myrtle lifted the drink to pour some in the woman’s mouth. Gertrude held her head, tilting it back so the water ran into the back of her mouth. The young woman had to swallow some.
“I don’t feel well.”
“Gertrude, help her up to our room.”
They pulled her to her feet. Chase found she could not stand.
“You take care of the bill while I help her upstairs.”
The bill could be paid in full with just a few coins.
“You’ll get your tip later.”
Myrtle lifted the young woman in the air and drooped her over her left shoulder. The buxom beauty was lithe (except in all the right places), but still it was awkward to carry her.
She turned left once out the door and headed toward the back of the inn where there was another stairs to the second floor. By going this route, she made certain no one saw her. She doubted whether they would recognize Chase, but the women took few chances. Their goal was to make the eldest sister disappear.
She got the door and stepped inside on her own. From there she waited for Gertrude to arrive. She did not want to put her down just to have to pick her up again.
“Well, it’s about time. She may look little but her tits are heavy.”
It was an old joke, but it never failed to draw chuckles.
Gertrude pulled one straight-backed wooden chair over so it faced the door. She pushed another around so the two were back to back about two feet apart. Myrtle moved around so she faced one chair with her back to the door. Gradually, she allowed the young brunette’s body to slide down her front until her feet touched the floor.
By then, she had her arms about Chase’s waist. The unconscious woman’s head hung back limply while her arms dangled down. Gertrude slipped her arms under the woman’s arm, reaching up until she had her in a full nelson. Myrtle then let go.
Gertrude pivoted to the right about 180 degrees so she faced the chair. Taking a step forward, Chase’s knees touched the edge of the chair seat. A half step more caused them to bend.
Myrtle had not been idle during this time. She moved around the chairs so she stood on the far side of the other chair, facing the two. As Gertrude leaned forward to lay their unconscious captive across the chair back, Myrtle grabbed her by the upper arms to pull her forward. Gertrude let of the woman’s shoulders, but immediately slipped her hands down to her hips to keep her from falling off the chair.
Myrtle kept one hand on the captive’s upper back to insure she slid not slide off that chair back, while she picked up a rope from the chair seat. She lay in on the woman’s upper arm so one end dangled down on each side. It took quick grabbing, but she got both ends in one hand. Once she had a simple overhand knot tied, she could let go. Chase was not going to fall off.
She added another cord to the other side. With both arms bound to the to of the chair back, Gertrude let go. Chase’s body slipped a little to the side, but before its weight could cause the chairs to fall over, she had pushed it upright so she could fasten a rope about her hips to tie them to the chair back.
Myrtle had already moved on to tying the brunette’s arms to the chair seat. First she knotted them together at the wrists, cinching them tightly. A rope tied to each upper arm at the elbows secured them to the vertical parts of the chair back. She passed a rope between the young woman’s bound wrists. After looping the ends about a cross-support under the seat, she pulled all slack from the rope, pulling Chase’s hands forward. When she tied the ends together, the captive could not move the upper part of her body from its bound position.
Gertrude was busy doing the same to the lower part of her body. Just as Myrtle had bound her elbows to the vertical parts of the chair back, she tied the brunette’s knees against them. Once bound like this, Chase could not draw her knees together. Tying one end of a rope to her left ankle, she passed it under the chair seat and up to the young captive’s right ankle. She looped the end about her ankles, but before tying a knot, she pulled all slack from the rope, pulling Chase’s left foot outwards. When she finally tied the other end to the right ankle, that foot was pulled outward also.
Myrtle grabbed a fistful of hair to raise Chase’s head. As she did so, her mouth came open. The woman wedged the bright red rubber ball of a ballgag in her mouth. She held the end of the strap as she let the captive’s head droop down. The long, light brown tresses cascaded down to the chair seat, making it easy for the woman to buckle the ends together behind her head.
“Let’s get a drink while she sleeps it off.”
As Myrtle passed by, she could not help but give the unconscious captive a playful slap on the bottom.
It was some time later that Chase felt something dripping from her mouth. She tried to wipe it away with the back of her left hand, but her arm would not move. She tried again, then tried with her right hand. The drooling continued.
She felt a burning in her left nostril, then her right. In an instant she snapped wide-awake.
“Mmmmmffffftttt?”
“I don’t think lime agree with her.”
Both women laughed.
The captive beauty caught a glimpse of an arm removing the smelling salts from under her nose. It did not register though. Her thoughts were more on that object in her mouth, prohibiting from speaking. She tried to raise an arm to remove it, but found she could not.
Lowering her head just a little, she could see her bound wrists on the chair seat before her. A rope ran from them out of sight under the chair seat.
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
“I don’t think the little princess appreciates our handiwork.”
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
The expression “little princess” did not register on the captive as she was still groggy from the knockout powder. Little princess was a derogatory name for a slave girl.
Chase began to struggle, but there was an old adage that goes: “When you are bound as a slave girl, you remain tied.”
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
“I think it’s time for her collar.”
At those words, the young woman stopped struggling. Surely they were kidding. After all, she was a princess!
“Don’t you think this pink goes nicely with you skin tones.”
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
The slave collar looked simple, but in reality it was a complex item. The appearance was that of a simple leather band, but many hours of work went into each.
Each collar was a composite of leather and steel. Between the inner and outer layers of leather, there was a layer of steel mesh. The steel made it impossible for anyone to cut the collar off.
Chase jerked her head around frantically in a futile effort to stop the woman from fastening it about her neck, but there was nothing she could do to stop her. Myrtle held the captive by the head, getting a good grip on her hair so she could not move her head without pulling at the roots.
Gertrude inserted the metal tab at one end of the collar into the buckle. As she held them together, Myrtle reached forward to pull a tab from the side of the buckle. This freed the metal latches inside that would lock the device in place.
Gertrude shifted position a little so she had access to the other side of the buckle. The tab entered a slot on the other side, forcing the latches into the locking position. As long as it was in place, the latches could not move back, unlocking the buckle. Myrtle used a pair of special pliers to drive the tab in all the way.
None of the tab stuck out.
There was no way to remove the tab. There was no way for the latches to move back to allow someone to remove the end of the collar from the buckle..
No one could cut the collar off. No one could unbuckle it. There was no way to remove the collar. Once someone had placed a collar about a slave girl, she remained a slave girl.
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
“Well, it’s too late to think about that, isn’t it?”
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
“You know what comes next, don’t you?”
Gertrude held the leather paddle below the brunette’s face so she saw it.
“We are going to pound you fanny until, well, as long as we want to!”
Gertrude moved in position to the right of the captive.
Whomp!
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
Whomp!
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
The first blow landed on the center of Chase’s right bottomcheek. The woman had stepped back half a step so the second blow fell in the center of the left.
Whomp!
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
Whomp!
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
Leaning forward, she delivered the third blow to the side of the right cheek. By then a red spot was already forming where the first two blows had fallen. She did not step back as far for the fourth blow. This one landed on the left cheek near the crack.
Gertrude moved around to the captive’s right after passing the paddle to Myrtle.
Whomp!
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
Whomp!
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
Whomp!
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
Whomp!
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!!”
”You are no doubt wondering how long we intend to do this to you,” Myrtle asked.
Gertrude answered while stroking the captive’s head.
“As long as we want to. You are, after all, a slave girl now.”
That was how the first hour of the beautiful woman’s slavery passed. They had her bound so nothing she did would cause a blow to miss the target chosen by the paddle welder.
“I think we need a break.”
“I know I could use a drink.”
Myrtle grabbed a fistful of light brown tresses to force their captive to raise her head.
“What do you say, Chase? Do you want use to stop spanking you with the paddle?”
She could tell by the almost imperceptible movement of the captive’s head that she was nodding.
“Would you rather we spank you with a bare hand.”
She did not want to be spanked at all but that was not an option. Being spanked with a bare hand had to be better than the leather paddle. She nodded again.
“You do everything we say, and we will only spank you with a bare hand. Understand?”
“If you misbehave, we use this.”
Gertrude shove a wooden paddle under the woman’s head as her friend let go. Chase’s face moved downwards, her nose almost touching the surface.
The leather paddle had been little more than a toy meant to torment her. A wooden paddle on the other hand, was nothing less than an instrument of extreme punishment. Chase knew they used it on slave girls who were bad. Any more than ten swats were considered a major punishment.
Sure, bottom burned from the beating she had taken, but she knew that just one swat from that paddle would double or triple the pain.
She nodded.
They untied her hands, arms and shoulders. She started to straighten up, but Gertrude placed her hands on her upper back to keep her bent across the chair backs.
“Stay in this position. Just put you hands behind your back.”
Myrtle looped a rope about the buxom woman’s wrists so there were six full loops. Pulling on the ends, she drew all slack from those loops before changing the direction of the ends so one passed between her arms and the other between her hands. This time when she pulled on the ends, she cinched those first six loops. A square knot would keep her bound.
Taking another rope, she folded it in half so there was a loop in the center. She tucked this under the right upper arm, then the left so it protruded on that side. She then thrust the ends of the rope through the loop. When she pulled on the ends, the double loop of rope about her upper arms grew smaller, gradually drawing her elbows together.
When Myrtle tied the knot, the beautiful brunette could move her arms very little.
“Wait a minute! Don’t straighten up yet. We have another present for you.”
This “present” was a pair of high-heeled sandals. A strap across the top of her foot and another about her ankle prohibited her from kicking them off.
When they untied her legs and pulled her upright, she wobbled back and forth, unused to the height of those stiletto heels. She had worn heels before, she had worn them as high as these but only for short periods of time, and she never had to leave her suite in the palace. “
Myrtle grabbed the slave girl by the chin, pulling her face around so she had to look at her.
“You have a new name. You will only answer to the name ‘Missy.’ Understand?” The brunette nodded. “Is your name ‘Chase?’” She shook her head. “Is you name ‘Missy?’” A reluctant nod.
“Missy” was a generic name when a slave girl did not yet have a permanent owner. The man or woman who owned her could call her anything he or she wished, and the slave girl had no choice but to answer to it. Slave girls being sold often were renamed “Missy.” Just being called “Missy” was an indication a slave girl was for sale.
When a woman was enslaved, she was always called “Missy” the first few days to reinforce her new status. They wanted her to forget her old name – to forget who she had been.
Chase was now a slave girl named “Missy.”
“Kneel facing that corner. When one of us calls you, you will rise, walk over before her, curtsey, and then lay yourself across her lap for a spanking. Now move!”
Slap!
A slap on the bare bottom sent the woman scurrying across the room to the corner. The woman laughed at her attempts to maintain her balance.
The buxom beauty knelt facing the corner as ordered. She settled back on her legs as she played with her bondage.
“Keep you butt in the air. We want to look at it. It belongs to us now and we don’t want you to hide it.”
The slave girl tired to rise but failed. She rocked forward and back a couple times before trying again and failing. She succeeded the third time.
Afraid that they would punish her for trying to escape, she stopped testing her bonds for a few minutes. Gradually she applied a little more pressure to each knot in an attempt to gain her freedom.
The women knew what she did. It was common among all newly collared slave girls. They would have been disappointed if she had not tried to get loose. They wanted her to try. They wanted her to learn just how helpless she was.
While they waited, Gertrude went down to the bar to get a bottle. She described Chase’s many physical charms to the bartender who gave her the booze free. She returned to their room with a pair of glasses. Myrtle motioned for her to put hers on an end table.
“Come here, Missy.”
The naked slave girl tried to rise but could not. She fell to the right, hitting her shoulder on the wall. Pressing her body against the wall, she came to her feet.
Standing before Myrtle, she realized she did not know how to curtsey.
“You are a clumsy oaf,” Myrtle said with a laugh as she slapped the top of her thighs. Chase bent over, allowing the woman to pull her the rest of the way.
The highest part of her body was her bottom. Her forehead rested on the floor to the woman’s left, while the toes of her shoes rested on it to her right.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
Myrtle grabbed a fistful of hair to pull her head up.
“Do you enjoy being spanked?”
Chase could hardly move her head without pulling her hair, but she managed to convey to her mistress that she did not.
“Then I want you crying through your gag and kicking your legs wildly.”
The spanking with the leather paddle had been much worse. She had endured it without being able to react. Now they wanted her to overact to the pain.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
“Mmmmmmmmmmmfffffffffffffffttttttttttt!!!!!”
Chase did as ordered. With her face against the floor, she could not see the women smiling at her.
“Okay. Back into the corner.”
Her respite was brief. In a few minutes she found herself draped across the other Woman’s lap.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
“Mmmmmmmmmmmfffffffffffffffttttttttttt!!!!!”
Chase thought things could not get worse than this, but she was about to discover just how wrong she could be.
Chase thought all eyes were on her, but she was nothing more than another beautiful slave girl. There were a dozen of her sister slaves in the room, but she did not know that. All she thought of were all those eyes on her.
She did not want to continue forward, but the women had warned her what would happen to her if she disobeyed an order. Myrtle held the leash about half a meter from the end. The slave girl saw the end dangling down from her hand. The other end of it was out of sight under her chin, attached to a ring on the collar.
Their path from the room was down the hall toward the back of the inn, the same route Myrtle had taken bringing the unconscious beauty upstairs. The woman had to exert constant pressure on the leash to keep her newly collared slave girl moving forward. Chase did not want to leave the relative safety of the room. At least her experience of playing as a slave girl with her friends enabled her to walk in those high heels without falling over. She still moved slowly, just a few inches at a step, but at least she did not turn an ankle.
The women took her to the dining room in a large room next to the tavern. Chase’s eyes moved rapidly from one person to another, afraid someone would recognize her and laugh at her predicament. No one paid her any attention. She was merely another beautiful slave girl.
She was thankful that they had allowed her to be dressed. Well, they had dressed her. Chase knew that a slave girl could not dress herself. What she wore and how she wore it was up to her mistress.
The motif of the outfit was shocking pink. While that was the standard color for slave girls, she was certain they chose that shade to draw attention to her. She expected everyone to turn to look at her when she entered the room.
Of course, she wore no bra. The top covered her large titties but provided no support. Looking down while they attended to other items of her outfit, she saw the nipples pointing through the thin material. She could not be certain, but she thought the material was so thin that she could see the dark circle of each nipple.
The miniskirt was slit up each side to the waist. The hem was so far above her knees that she doubted it covered her crotch. At least they put panties on her. They were black satin so they contrast sharply with the pink of the miniskirt. No one doubted what they saw when she moved.
She also wore stockings. While most of her apparel was that shocking pink, the stockings matched the panties. They were sheer black, almost black at the top where they clung tightly to her upper thighs.
“Kneel. Facing the room so everyone can see your charms.”
Myrtle tapped her foot next to the table where she wanted the slave girl to kneel. Chase backed into the spot. She lowered one knee to the floor, then the other. At least she could do that without falling over.
The woman still held her leash. She waited until the slave girl was settled in before attaching the end to a ring on the edge of the tabletop. A little bowl in the center of the table held several small padlocks. She used one to lock the end to the ring. She then tossed the key into the bowl where they could find it.
The women discussed what was on the menu before settling on salads.
They ignored the slave girl.
Chase looked around in hope of finding someone who would help her. She saw no one she recognized. They all were strangers.
She did not realize that no one would help her. She was only a slave girl. Who in their right mind would try to free a collared woman? Anyone who saw her would laugh at her fate, and perhaps ask her mistress if he (or she) could sample the blonde’s physical charms.
When they were finished eating, Myrtle freed the leash, then jerked up on it.
“Come one, Missy, on your feet.”
She tried to rise the same way she had knelt. She hit her hip against the edge of the table. Sure, it was a clumsy maneuver and it hurt like hell, but at least she did not fall over.
The women led the brunette slave girl toward the lobby of the inn. Next to the door, immediately opposite the front desk, they tethered her to a post.
“Be a good little slave girl, Missy,” Myrtle whispered in her eyes as she patted her on the bottom under the short skirt.
Chase closed her eyes at this unwanted contact. She wore a slave collar so Myrtle owed her. She could take what liberties she wanted to and the blonde had no choice but to allow her.
She opened her eyes suddenly when she realized her mistresses were walking away without her. She started to grunt a protest, but noticed the clerk at the desk. That conduct was unbecoming a slave girl. She could expect to be punished. When she looked back at the women, they were already several steps up the stairway.
She was alone and vulnerable. The blonde looked around her. Besides the clerk on one side, there were two, no, three people in the sitting room. She saw no slave girls. There were none to draw attention from her.
Now that she was alone, Chase deluded herself into thinking she could escape. They made a fatal error leaving her alone and she would capitalize on it. She stepped back as far as the leash would allow. The Woman had not locked it to the ring on the wall, but did not have to. She glanced in the direction of the clerk, but he was ready a paper.
A kneeling slave girl had been able to reach the end of her leash locked to the table in the dining room. That was why Myrtle had locked it.
The end of the leash this time was attached to a ring at chin level. Glancing first into the sitting room and then at the clerk, she swung her arms around toward it. She could not get her hands up that far to reach it.
Speaking of her hands: She pulled on the steel manacles holding her hands helplessly behind her back. They would not give. She had never seen a pair that could be broken by anything lighter than a sledgehammer. She fumbled around trying to find a way to open them. Her hands were small, but the circle of steel around them was just as small.
When the women returned, she stood where they had left her.
She felt so relieved when Gertrude unfastened the end of her leash, giving it a little tug as a signal to follow.
She felt much safer when someone held her leash.
The women started toward the stairs again. They took long confident steps, forcing their captive to take many short, fast steps to keep up.
“Lean across the chair back,” Myrtle said once they were in the room. “I want you face down against the seat.”
They had pulled the chair in front of the door with the seat facing away from it. When she took the desired position, Chase knew anyone enter the room would have an unobstructed view of her panty-covered ass.
She sobbed a little as her forehead touched the surface of the seat. The chair back was low, making it easy for her to bend over it. Thirty-six brass brads held the leather in place over the foam rubber. A slave girl could lean over that chair for hours without the chair back digging into her tummy.
Chase knew the chain was designed that way so they could punish a slave girl’s bottom.
“I dunno. We’ve used a leather paddle and bare hand on her. What next?”
Myrtle sat in a chair to Chase’s left. She could see her legs up to the knee. Her long tresses obstructed her view from there up.
“We could always use a switch.”
Gertrude voice came from before her. From the elevation she knew that Woman stood.
“Well, I guess a switch it is. Are you ready to have your fanny switched, Missy?”
The captive brunette raised her head so she could shake it.
“She doesn’t want a switching!” Myrtle said in mock amazement.
“Mmmmmffffftfttt!”
Chase reacted at the pain when Gertrude raised her head by grabbing a fistful of hair and jerking up.
“Are you willing to make it worth our while?”
The buxom beauty had no delusions about the woman’s meaning. If she refused they would switch her bottom until she changed her mind. No one would come to her aid. She was only another beautiful slave girl.
She nodded as best she could. The roots of her hair throbbed from the woman’s grip. Moving her head just made it worse.
Gertrude let go of her hair, allowing the woman’s forehead to bounce off the seat.
The woman moved around in front of the slave girl. While standing behind her, she had removed her top. Grabbing her head with her hands, she raised it in the air so she could sit backwards on the chair straddling the seat.
Her hands unbuckled the strap hold the ballgag in the slave girl’s mouth. Chase’s face was pressed against her right tittie while she worked. When she had it undone, she raised her head in the air with both hands. Holding it there with the heel of her left palm against the woman’s forehead, her right jerked the rubber ball from between the blonde’s jaws.
“Suck it.”
Many times slave girls had done this to Chase when she was a free woman. She knew what to do – how to rub her tongue across the nipple until it was so hard she thought it might explode off the woman’s tit. Her lips worked the outer edge while her tongue continued.
“Other side!”
Gertrude used her hands to push her face to the left. That nipple already was hard. Still, the captive woman had no choice but to do as ordered.
When Gertrude wanted her to switch back to the right, she pushed her head over in that direction. Chase’s role was that of a pleasure-giving machine. Her mistresses decided what she did, and when she did it.
She knew what would happen to her if she refused or was hesitant. That was why they left her bent over the chair back.
“My turn,” came Myrtle’s voice off to Chase’s left.
Gertrude used both hands to hold her head. Chase moved to her left without straightening up.
The woman still sat in the chair, only now she was naked from the waist down. Well, she wasn’t completely naked from the waist down – she still wore her boots.
Chase fell to her knees between the woman’s spread legs. She knew what was expected of her. She leaned forward until her forehead struck something; bringing the forward movement to a halt.
“Stop!”
Myrtle had her hand out to stop her. Her forehead had run into the open palm.
“You have to beg permission first.”
“Please, Mistress, let me eat your pussy.”
“No, don’t look at me. Look at my pussy. It is the most important thing in the world to you. It is the only thing standing between you and a severe switching.
Chase stared at the woman’s love nest, wondering what it would be like to do that to another woman. Often she had slave girls do it to her. Now she was the slave girl.
“Please, Mistress, let me eat you pussy.”
“Kiss it first.”
The bound blonde leaned forward to give a light kiss between the woman’s legs.
“Ohhhhhhh!!”
Myrtle pulled her head up by grabbing a fistful of hair.
“My pussy isn’t your brother. Kiss it like you love it.”
To give the new slave girl an idea of just what she wanted, she rammed her face into her crotch with her hands and held it there.
“That was better. Now do it again.”
Chase sniffled. She knew they would beat her if she starting bawling. She tried to control herself.
The blonde pressed her lips against the woman’s pussy, slowly counting to “five” before backing up. She did not take her eyes off it.
“Describe it.”
“You have a very beautiful pussy, Mistress.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Please let me eat your pussy.”
Chase had no idea what to do. Once again she planted her lips on the cunt, then insert her tongue inside. After doing that for a few seconds, she drew her lips off, but made hard, exaggerated sweeps with her tongue.
She guessed she was doing a good job because the woman did not berate her further. Myrtle had both hands on the back of her head, pressing her face into her pussy. Chase’s cheeks, lips and tongue were tired, but she knew better than to stop.
The woman released her grip after she had achieved several orgasms. Chase was inexperienced, but there was that undeniable thrill that came from a virgin tongue.
“Thank me.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Thank you for letting me eat your pussy.”
Myrtle leaned forward to hold the brunette’s chin with her right hand. The touch was gentle, almost affectionate.
“I can tell you are not going to be punished much. You can expiate most punishment merely by eating the person who intends to beat you.”
The blonde filed that away for future reference. She did not like being spanked. While she did not enjoying the humiliation of being forced to each another woman, it was less painful than having her fanny whacked.
“Now come over here and eat me.”
Chase looked over her right shoulder. Gertrude had stripped from the waist down (except for her boots) and was seated in a chair facing the door. The slave girl looked back at Myrtle to see if it was okay for her to move.
“Okay. Show Mistress Gertrude what a marvelous tongue you have.”
The woman made no effort to put her clothes back on. By the time Chase had finished with Gertrude, she would be ready for another session with the brunette and her magical tongue.
Chase crawled back to Myrtle. As she licked the other woman, she heard her say, “From now on you name is “Pussyeater.”
Great. She had not gotten used to the name Missy, and now they had changed it to Pussyeater.
“We have a little treat for you, Pussyeater.”
They had fed Chase and allowed her to go to the bathroom. They had put the ballgag back in, but when she emerged, they removed it. She was certain she would not remain ungagged for long.
“Look at this. Look how big and long it is!!”
The new gag was a dildo gag. Big and long did not adequately describe it. The shaft was two inches in diameter and three inches long.
Chase opened her mouth so they could insert it. Gertrude held it at shoulder level about a foot before her.
“No, you take it in your mouth.” The slave girl leaned forward. “Come on, Pussyeater, make love to it! Come on! Faster!”
The captive woman pumped her head up and down on the shaft for five minutes.
“Okay, that’s enough. We don’t want to overheat.”
As they fastened the ends of the strap together behind her head, the slave girl explored it with her mouth.
“There is a large air hole in it, so feel free to breath through it. We don’t want you suffocating.”
Chase sucked in and discovered they were right, there was a hole in the center.
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