Greetings to my dear reader, whoever you are.

You may be a Master or a Mistress, a slave-owner or someone with the urge to own a slave -- in which case, may I humbly introduce myself as slave Peter, whose adventures you might already have read about in my previous attempt at authorship. If you have not, may I with equal humility suggest that your enjoyment of this effort of mine would be enhanced by reading the other first?

Or you may be a slave like myself -- in which case I want to welcome you as if you were my brother, or perhaps sister! I must assume (since these small volumes, my Mistress assures me, are only distributed to slave- owners ) that you are reading this with the knowledge and permission of your Master or Mistress -- preferably, in fact, on his or her orders! Obviously, therefore, I can't make any suggestions as to what you may have read before this, or even as to what parts of this you read: that is, of course, entirely your owner's decision.

If, for whatever reason, this is the first of my literary efforts you have opened, I will beg your patience in order to set the scene a little....

My name, as I mentioned above, is Peter -- or, more precisely, SLAVE Peter: I am the property of my wonderful owner, the beautiful Mistress Tina. And by property" I mean exactly that: my Mistress owns me, body and soul, and has the total right of ownership to do with me just as she pleases... and what she pleases, I'm only too grateful to say, is everything I could wish for!

I want to stress, here and now, that I submitted myself into this slavery to my Mistress willingly , and with full knowledge of what it meant: in fact, it was I who asked my Mistress to take me as her full-time, total and unconditional slave -- although I know she'd been waiting and hoping for some time that I would! But since that moment, when she did accept me, she has had absolute control over me: I've been expected to obey her every order, and I've had no choice whatsoever in what happens to me -- except in the very rare cases where my Mistress kindly allows me to choose between very limited options.

She keeps me locked up, if she wishes, sometimes in a comfortable room and sometimes in what can only be described as a dungeon. She keeps me shackled, most of the time, whether by a chain padlocked to one ankle or with my ankles hobbled close together and joined to my handcuffed wrists with heavy chains. She keeps me bound, occasionally, my legs and arms and whole body drawn into tight and often contorted positions, so that I'm helpless and utterly at her mercy. She keeps me on my best behaviour, using the incentive of whip or cane to train me in what she expects of her slave. Most significant of all, she keeps me naked !... every minute of the day and night, except the very few times when she's taken me with her in public.

But I suspect that none of this is very strange to most of you who read this, so I won't go on about it....

My first little book -- for the benefit of those who may not have read it -- related my adventures on a holiday with my Mistress... on a tropical cruise ship. I won't say any more about it: but to any slaves whose owners haven't allowed you to read it, I assure you it's for a good reason, which may lead to an interesting and exciting experience for you!

The little book you're now reading is a sequel of a sort: it describes another cruise on the same ship, but rather than following the events like a diary, I've chosen to concentrate on a number of highlights... hence the title.

Nevertheless, my story does begin at the beginning....

One day, without giving me any advance warning, my Mistress made me pack her suitcases -- with the kind of clothing she would need for a holiday on a cruise ship! However, she said not a word about where we were going, even when her packing was complete, the clothing I might need -- the barest minimum, of course! -- had also been packed, and everything was in her car.

When we actually left, I was certain where we were going, despite her continued silence on the subject: not only were we headed in the right direction, but I'd also noticed that we'd packed no bondage gear at all. The latter convinced me, because I knew the cruise ship was only too well equipped with the appropriate gear!

My Mistress made me drive, simply giving me the directions necessary to take the correct route. We didn't talk much as we drove, and the conversations we did have were quite unrelated to the subject of bondage or slavery: I was permitted to speak freely, without asking for her permission, but one of the strict rules of my slavery was that, in these circumstances, those particular topics could only be raised by her... and, today, she chose not to do so.

It was no surprise for me when, late that evening, my Mistress told me to turn into a motel we'd stayed at previously, one owned by a couple named Brenda and Dan. Nor was it surprising -- although a little disappointing, as I was keen to meet our hosts again -- that she made me stay in the car while she went into reception to register. Even less surprising was the first thing she did after we entered our room: ordering me to strip naked, she then produced a pair of handcuffs from her purse and fastened my wrists behind my back.

What followed was a series of surprises, although I quickly realized I should have expected some of them! Saying that she wanted to go to the motel bar for a drink, she calmly told me to accompany her. Not unnaturally, in my state of nakedness, I hesitated: she must have been expecting this, because she waited hardly a moment before forcing my obedience by the simple method of taking a firm grip on my balls and pulling me through the door.

Once outside, she let go and started walking towards the bar, without so much as a glance at me. With the door shut, it seemed I had little choice, so I followed, wondering whether some stranger might see my nakedness. I soon became aware of two more surprises that I hadn't noticed before: one was that our room was the very furthest from the bar, the other was the absence of any cars but ours. The latter meant, to my relief, that there we no other guests to see me, while the former was probably a deliberate choice to draw out my potentially embarrassing walk as long as possible!

During this walk I remembered something else that surprised me: the 'NO Vacancy' sign had been showing when we drove in. Why was that, I thought, if there were no guests beside ourselves? The answer was provided a little later, and turned out to be the biggest surprise of all, one that I could never have anticipated.

It was no surprise at all to find Brenda and Dan waiting for us in the bar, nor did I find myself embarrassed by their lack of surprise at my nakedness. They greeted my Mistress warmly and, with her permission, greeted me -- with equal warmth, but in a completely different manner: Brenda hugged me close, pulling me against her with her hands cupping my naked bottom, and kissed me enthusiastically; Dan, on the other hand, succeeded in bringing a blush to my cheeks by extending his hand with mock formality and shaking my cock, which had come partly erect as a result of Brenda's attentions!

The three of them settled down in comfortable chairs with their drinks, and I obeyed my Mistress' order to kneel beside her chair: my drink, with a straw to enable me to drink it, was on a convenient low table. They began an animated conversation, the very first words of which gave me the biggest surprise of the evening -- as well as confirming my already firm belief about our destination.

Her eyes sparkilng, Brenda said to my Mistress, "We're looking forward so much to joining you on the cruise tomorrow! We've already had so much fun, with our private bondage games, that we can hardly wait to play them with you and all the other passengers!"

"Yes," agreed Dan, "but we have a little problem, that we hoped you might be able to advise us on, seeing as you've been on a cruise before. You know, I guess, that they want us to nominate who'll be the Master or Mistress, and who the slave, but the thing we didn't really expect is that this arrangement must remain the same for the whole cruise. Because we're so new to this, we'd just assumed that we would both be able to enjoy both sides at different times -- as we've been doing at home."

"Don't get us wrong, please," chimed in Brenda. "It's not that we both want the dominant side, and neither wants to be the slave: in fact, if anything, it's the other way around. It's just that we're still learning and we'd both like to have more experience of both sides, because we both enjoy both sides, don't we, Dan?" Dan nodded vigorously, and Brenda turned back to my Mistress before going on, "D'you think they might bend the rules a little for us?"

"Hmmm," said my Mistress, "let me think for a moment." During the silence that followed, my initial amazement gave way to the realization that this 'problem' explained why both Brenda and Dan were dressed, rather than one of them being a naked slave, as I would have expected after our previous visit here. Clearly, they didn't want to commit themselves one way or the other if they didn't have to.

"In answer to your question," my Mistress said at last, "I very much doubt the cruise organizers would agree. You see..." She went on to explain some things that were news to me: for example, that people like Brenda and Dan could swap roles on separate cruises, and (if they wanted) change 'sides' in the privacy of their cabin during one cruise; but that, in the 'public domination-slavery' activities of the passengers and crew, things worked best if there was a pretense of real and permanent owner/slave relationships.

Brenda and Dan listened intently, occasionally asking for more explanations, and eventually conceded the principle was a sensible one, and that therefore they would have to make a choice. "Well, darling," Dan said to Brenda with a wry smile, "what's it to be then? Perhaps the simplest thing would be for us to toss a coin?"

"Just a moment!" said my Mistress suddenly. "I've just had an idea, based on something you said earlier. Before I tell you, though, may I make a phone call?" They agreed, and she went into their office, leaving them wondering aloud what it was that had been said earlier... and even asking me if I'd noticed anything significant. I admitted that I hadn't.

A few minutes later my Mistress returned, her eyes alight with excitement. She sat down and looked hard at Brenda and Dan for a moment before saying, "Brenda, earlier you suggested that you and Dan may both be more interested in the submissive, rather than the dominant side, right? Well, here's my idea: why don't you both come on this cruise as unaccompanied slaves ?

"Before you answer," she went on, as Brenda and Dan stared at her in surprise, "let me suggest two reasons you might do this. Firstly, it's much cheaper, because slaves are very much in demand, by Masters and Mistresses who don't have their own or who are looking for variety. Secondly, I'm sure you'd learn much more about bondage and slavery this way, by personal experience with a number of temporary 'owners', rather than by just seeing what other owners do with their slaves.

"On the other hand, being relatively new to these activities, you might be worried at the prospect of committing yourselves in this way on your first cruise. That's why I made that phone call: I asked my friend, Master Paul, if he can cope with an extra slave on this cruise, and he's only too willing. What I'm proposing is that you would be nominally our slaves to begin with, and it will be our responsibility to see that your limits are respected: this would give you a chance to see what goes on, before becoming proper unaccompanied slaves -- and then only if and when you wish it. What do you think?"

I was barely aware of Brenda and Dan looking at each other in wild surmise: I was far more interested in something else my Mistress had just said, namely that Master Paul was coming on this cruise, too. My Mistress, of course, had been teasing me by not saying a word about the cruise, but I'd been hoping he would, because that meant I would see his lovely, sexy slave, Helen, again! I couldn't hide my sheer excitement.

I'm sure my Mistress noticed, but she pretended not to. It was only when Brenda asked what sort of Master was Master Paul, that she looked straight at me and said with a smile, "Perhaps slave Peter here can vouch for Master Paul. We spent a lot of time together on our last cruise, and Peter submitted to bondage and other things from Master Paul more than once. Even more to the point, Peter spent even more time in the company of Master Paul's slave-girl, Helen, and I think she let him know how she felt about being Master Paul's slave. Tell Brenda, slave, what Helen thinks of her Master."

I obeyed, and it wasn't at all difficult to be persuasive! I suspect, too, that it wasn't only my words that sounded convincing: just to think about 'my Helen' -- as I thought of her -- let alone talk about her, was enough to make my cock stand up hard. My Mistress reached down and gave it a very thorough fondle, and Brenda's eyes started to shine with obvious excitement, as I spoke for several minutes, with examples from our previous cruise.

Brenda and Tom would probably have agreed without my 'testimonial'; with it, there was no doubt at all. When my Mistress stopped me, turned to them and asked, "Well? D'you want to know any more, or are you ready to decide?", they looked at each other and there was no mistaking their excitement.

"Yes, Tina," they said almost in unison, and Brenda added, "Your suggestion sounds great: we'll do it!"

"Good!" replied my Mistress with satisfaction. "Now, I have just one more suggestion -- more than a suggestion, actually. If you're both to be slaves for the next two weeks, I want you to submit to me for the rest of this evening, as a sort of preview, and to give me an indication of your preferences and limits. Unless you have a very good reason to object, don't say anything -- just nod."

Without any hesitation, Brenda and Dan both nodded firmly. Instantly, my Mistress' tone changed to one of quiet but unmistakeable command: "Right, then. Stand up! Dan, strip Brenda naked... quickly!"

Dan obeyed eagerly and, in less than a minute, my Mistress and I had our first look at Brenda's nakedness. For her part, Brenda seemed a little startled by the suddenness and speed of her exposure, and she instinctively covered her breasts and pussy with her hands and arms, and blushed a deep pink.

"Don't be coy," said my Mistress kindly but firmly. "Dan, take her wrists and hold them behind her... now bring her closer to me. Tell me, slave-girl," she went on, re-positioning herself on the arm of her chair to bring her eyes on a level with Brenda's, "don't you like being naked?"

"It... it's a bit strange, like this," Brenda stammered ever so slightly. A bit embarrassing, too, but... but I don't mind... really."

"You'd better not," smiled my Mistress. "If you're to be an unaccompanied slave, you'll get used to being naked, practically all the time. Is this the first time your sexy body has been naked in front of anybody but your husband? And when you answer, remember that we Masters and Mistresses like to be addressed properly."

"Yes, er... Mistress," Brenda replied. "Well, almost, that is, apart from my doctor... and in the showers with the girls at school and in the health club. But this is different, somehow."

"It certainly is," grinned my Mistress. "To make some of the differences quite explicit: one is that, in those other circumstances, you made the choice to strip and you can choose to get dressed again; as a slave, you will have no such choice, especially when you're shackled or bound: another is that, as a slave, you will be naked in front of your clothed betters, instead of amongst your equals: and a third is that, instead of being naked for just one man or a few girl-friends, you will often be on view for dozens, maybe even a hundred or more, men and women at once!"

She smiled again as Brenda's eyes widened a little and her blush deepened slightly. "But don't worry," she went on kindly, "I'm sure you'll get used to it: you may even come to enjoy it a lot. One thing I'm very certain of, is that most of the Masters -- and Mistresses for that matter! -- will enjoy looking at your naked body: it's lovely!"

My Mistress paused for a couple of minutes, allowing her eyes to travel slowly and intimately over every inch of Brenda's nakedness. By now, I had also had a very good look at Brenda, and I had to agree with my Mistress' assessment. Brenda was just below average height for a woman and, although some might have thought she was a little on the plump side, her figure was really very sexy indeed: her breasts were quite large, but well-shaped and reasonably firm, with cone-shaped dark aureoles and prominent nipples; the mound of her pussy, covered with a thick thatch of curls, seemed almost to thrust itself forward; and her face, framed by a mass of black wavy hair, was pert and pretty. I couldn't help thinking that she and Helen would make a lovely contrast as fellow slave-girls!

"Ah yes," my Mistress went on at last, "the passengers and officers will get a lot of pleasure from looking at you! And not only from looking at you, either!..." Very deliberately, watching Brenda's face for her reactions, she lifted a hand and placed it firmly over one of Brenda's tits.

Brenda flinched, ever so slightly, but my Mistress didn't remove her hand. Instead, she put her other hand over Brenda's other breast and said, with a sort of mock disapproval in her smile and voice, "This is something else you'll have ot get used to, so you may as well start now. You've read the information the cruise people sent, so you must know that they insist on slaves being willing to be naked most of the time, and to have their bodies touched in any way at all . And, if you didn't understand exactly what that means, it means this!..."

She proceeded to give Brenda's naked body a very thorough fondle! Beginning with both hands caressing her generous breasts, she went on to roll her nipples expertly in her fingers, to trace the curves of her waist and hips, to reach behind her and cup the globes of her bottom and, finally, to put her fingers between her thighs and explore the ultimate privacy of her pussy and clit. Brenda's flush deepened again, but her breathing quickened as my Mistress' clever fingers elicited the natural response to such stimulation.

With the fingers of one hand buried in Brenda's pussy, and the other moving over both her breasts and elsewhere, my Mistress spoke again: "Remember, slave-girl, over the next two weeks, you can expect to be handled like this by very many men -- and women! -- often by several at a time: sometimes you'll be shackled or bound, and you won't be able to resist; but, at other times, you'll be expected to stand un-restrained and accept their attentions gratefully. If you're not willing to tolerate this, perhaps you better reconsider the decision you made earlier: do you want to do that? Think carefully before you answer."

Brenda hesitated, but not for long, before replying, "No, Mistress Tina, I still want to do it. It may be strange at first, and a bit embarrassing, but I'm sure I'll get used to it and eventually enjoy it."

"Good!" was my Mistress' approving response. "Now, I want you to fetch, from your own bondage gear, two pairs of ankle cuffs and padlocks and two short lengths of chain, or something that will do the same job. This is a sort of final test of your committment, because you'll have the chance to change your mind, get dressed and run away: but I expect you to be back here in less than five minutes. OK, you may let her arms go now, Dan."

Brenda left the room obediently, and my Mistress turned her attention to Dan. "Your turn now, slave-boy," she grinned. "Off with all your clothes, except your underpants!"

Dan obeyed willingly and, in a very few moments, only a pair of jockey briefs separated him from complete nakedness. There was little doubt of his state of mind, because the shape of his erect cock was clearly visible in the bulge of his briefs, and my Mistress smiled as she gave them a condescending look.

"Now," she said, "to impress on you your status as a slave, I'm going to have that last garment removed by my own slave: go stand close in front of him." There was a short pause as I stared up at her, wondering how I was to do what she wanted, with my wrists still cuffed behind me: then my dilemma was solved by her sharp "Use your teeth, stupid! Start at the front."

As I obeyed, I found there was something unusually humiliating about this. Later, Dan confessed that he'd felt much the same, but that the humiliation had had the effect my Mistress intended!) My teeth grasped the front of the briefs' belt and, as I pulled it out and down over his crotch, his cock sprang free and poked me in the eye! My task proved trickier than I might have expected but, with Dan co-operating by turning around for me to pull the briefs over his hips and buttocks, eventually I drew them right down to his ankles, where he could easily step out of them.

Brenda returned part-way through this exercise and, from the corner of my eye, I could see her expression of surprise and delight as she realized what was happening. My Mistress made her stand at attention, her hands clasped behind her back, as Dan's stripping was completed: she obediently remained like that throughout his subsequent 'inspection' by my Mistress' eyes and hands.

"I've already seen you naked, slave-boy," she said as her hands ran over the bare flesh of his chest, belly, thighs and buttocks. "Which was why I wanted to see your female fellow-slave naked first. You heard everything I said to her, and it all applies equally to you, so I won't repeat it -- except to assure you that there will be very many Mistresses and lady Officers who'll be eager to get their hands on you in more ways than one! And, I suspect, a few Masters and male officers as well!"

As with Brenda, I could see what she meant: Dan was short for a man, not much taller than Brenda herself, but his naked body was well-proportioned if a little on the stocky side; his muscles showed clearly under his slightly swarthy skin, his chest was deep and his belly flat and hard, and the cock that my Mistress was now stroking to full erection was quite thick and long in comparison to his overall size.

"By the reaction of your cock here," smiled my Mistress at last, "I suspect I already know your answer, but I'll ask you the same question I asked the slave-girl: do you want to reconsider your agreement to my suggestion, that you come on the cruise as unaccompanied slaves?"

Dan's reply was immediate and brief. "No, Mistress Tina," he said quite emphatically.

"Right, that's settled," said my Mistress in a businesslike tone. "Brenda, come here and shackle your fellow-slave's ankles." After Brenda obeyed, Dan was ordered to do the same to her: then my Mistress went on, "Now I want my dinner: you two may go and prepare it and, when it's ready to serve in the dining room, one of you may come and inform me. You may keep some food warm for yourselves, to eat afterwards, but serve an extra plate with mine, for me to feed my slave. Off you go: I want to talk to my slave alone."

Until dinner was served -- and afterwards, while Brenda and Dan were washing up -- my Mistress chatted with me, revealing her excitement and enthusiasm at the prospect of introducing them both to the pleasures -- and pains! -- of slavery on board the cruise ship! Since they'd both read the information sent with the acknowledgement of their booking, she admitted somewhat sadly, some of the surprises wouldn't work for them, but she gleefully speculated that she and Master Paul and the ship's officers would still be able to spring some on them. In particular, she gave me strict instructions never to say a word about certain events from our previous cruise... for exactly the same reason that I won't mention them here, either!

Dinner itself was clearly very enjoyable for my Mistress, and no wonder: she had two naked slaves, experienced in the art of table service, if not in naked slavery, to wait on her as well as to provide her with amusement, simply by standing well within her reach for frequent fondles of their tits or nipples or cock or pussy. Between eating her own delicious food, she fed me as I knelt close beside her: with my wrists still cuffed behind me, I had to take the morsels from her fork directly with my mouth... but several times she varied the procedure by making Brenda or Dan hold some food in their lips and bend down to pass it to me, or even by dabbing some sauce onto Brenda's tits or Dan's cock, from where I had to lick it!

During the meal, she chatted cheerfully with her 'new' slaves, mainly telling them how much she enjoyed being a Mistress; but she also gave them a few pieces of important information about the conditions for slaves on the cruise ship, yet without giving away a great deal. The subject changed, however, after the meal was over and the dishes were done: settling into a comfortable chair in the bar, with a glass of good liqueur, she orderd Brenda and Dan to kneel at her feet and started quizzing them about their interests, preferences, tolerances and dislikes in the area of bondage and slavery.

This conversation went on until late. With the help of a questionnaire provided by the cruise organizers, and prompted by my Mistress' persistent and intimate questions, Brenda and Dan had to explore their own feelings about every aspect of the slavery they were about to undergo -- from things like simple nakedness and serving drinks and food, through shackles and bondage and being used as objects of amusement, to their willingness to be sexual playthings and to provide pleasure to the 'owners' either with their mouths or by fucking, and even to the deeper questions of homosexual activities and whether they were prepared to be forced into sexual acts with other slaves in public.

Some of these things surprised Brenda and Dan, and even embarrassed them. My Mistress pointed out that, as unaccompanied slaves, it was important for those passengers who might 'claim' them to know where their limits lay; this would be equally important, in the initial period when she and Master Paul were to be responsible for them. She also stressed the principle that, although the channels were provided for slaves to lodge complaints of ill-treatment against passengers or officers, slaves were slaves and were expected to submit without negotiation to any treatment within the limits on record in the Purser's office.

Finally she was satisfied that she understood the 'new' slaves; for their part, they were happy that their tolerances -- and therefore their enjoyment of the cruise -- were being considered. At the same time, however, many details of their actual treatment were left quite vague -- deliberately, as my Mistress pointed out with a smile, because half the fun of being a slave was not knowing what would happen to you! This point was not lost on Brenda and Dan, and the looks on their faces at the end of the evening were a mixture of trepidation and excited anticipation.

My Mistress put them to bed, still wearing their ankle shackles, with orders to serve her breakfast very early next morning -- in her room. That was where she led me and, for the first time since our arrival, unlocked the handcuffs from one of my wrists... only to re-lock it to a leg of her bed! Despite the hardness of the floor, I had little difficulty in dropping off to sleep.

Next morning, after a quick breakfast, the four of us set off to join the cruise ship. My Mistress travelled in her car, driven part of the way by Brenda and part by Dan, while I drove Brenda's and Dan's car, kept company by whoever wasn't with my Mistress at the time.

While they were with me, both Brenda and Dan naturally tried to quiz me about slavery on the ship and the island. I did my best to let them know how much fun it could be, but was constantly mindful of my Mistress' warning not to 'spill the beans' too much. I even managed to steer the conversation to what they had done in their first few weeks of indulging in the same kind of activities, and their descriptions were very enjoyable, vivid in their discoveries of the fun and pleasure that could be had.

When Brenda and Dan changed over about halfway, I learned that the conversation in the other car was quite different: Brenda said it had been very one-sided, with my Mistress listing, carefully and repeatedly, what was expected of slaves on board ship and the correct responses to pre-defined orders.

Thanks to encountering some slow traffic, we arrived at the cruise ship's berth with little time to spare before it was due to sail. With my Mistress' warning fresh in our ears, to behave just like ordinary passengers on an ordinary cruise -- "because there might be slaves who don't know the true nature of the cruise until the first island visit," she reminded us -- we went aboard and reported to the Purser's office.

There we were greeted by Nicole, the same lovely girl who'd had that job on our first cruise; she was cheerful and friendly, but skillfully managed to give nothing away about the 'other part' of the cruise. Checking our names, she said, "You're the last to board," and informed the Purser himself, who phoned the bridge immediately: we were under way even before the paperwork was finished!

My Mistress and I were checked in quickly and smoothly: "You've been with us before," said Nicole, "so there's no need to fill you in on anything." Brenda and Dan, however, took a little longer.

Referring to their booking, Nicole asked, "Do you have the questionnaire we asked you to bring with you? Thank you." She looked at it for a moment, then said quite matter-of-factly, "Hmm, this is a little unusual: would you mind coming into the office and discussing it with the Purser himself?"

Brenda and Dan agreed, but invited my Mistress to acompany them -- "It was your suggestion, after all," said Dan -- and she told me to wait for her. I was only too happy to obey; after all, it gave me the chance to chat for a while with Nicole and drink in her beauty!

Later, Brenda told me that the Purser had said they very rarely had unaccompanied slaves who were also completely 'new' to the ship, and had asked whether they understood what was expected. My Mistress had guaranteed that they did, and said that her undertaking of initial responsibility would be supported by Master Paul. Fianlly, the Purser had indicated that, if either Brenda or Dan, or both, were to opt out of slavery at any time, this would be quite OK, on two conditions: one, that they would be non-participating passengers for the rest of the cruise and two, that the full fare would apply, because the discount for unaccompnied slaves was conditional on slavery for the whole cruise.

Of course, I knew nothing of this conversation at the time, nor could I mention it to Nicole and ask her what was going on. At last the Purser came out with the other three and said to Nicole, "This is OK, but please see if a more suitable cabin is available for these passengers." Nicole checked Brenda and Dan in and assigned them a cabin; then she said with a bright smile, "It's a good thing we're not fully booked this trip, but we may have to move you to more appropriate accommodation later. Now, would you mind carrying your own luggage? I have no porters free at the moment."

Brenda and Dan got the message quite clearly, but anyone not 'in the know' would never have noticed Nicole's subtle emphasis on their slave status already! My Mistress, who naturally had nothing to carry, took Brenda's and Dan's cabin key and led us there. Opening the door, she revealed a sparsely furnished room containing little more than two narrow beds. She closed the door behind us and smiled at Brenda and Dan.

"Well, here we are," she said. "Not a very luxurious cabin, is it, but quite adequate for slaves, eh? You'll note that the door needs the key to open it from inside as well as out... and that the Purser's girl gave the key to me , not you! Naturally, only Masters and Mistresses have keys: Master Paul will be given one, when he signs to look after you to start with.

"You'll keep your clothes here," she went on, opening a closet. "You'll need them while we're still pretending this is a normal cruise, but then they'll be locked away... and this cupboard, which is now locked to keep it from unsuspecting potential slaves, will be permanently open!" She used the key to unlock a large cupboard, revealing a large supply of bondage equipment, and smiled at the wide-eyed looks on Brenda's and Dan's faces. "Don't worry," she assured them, deliberately misreading their feelings, "you won't have to wait that long to try this out: we'll use it on you in private, from tonight! Any questions, slaves?"

Dan had one: "If this is a cabin meant for slaves, why did Nicole say that we might move to a better cabin later?"

"Oh, you misunderstood," replied my Mistress with a broad grin. "She didn't say a better cabin, but more appropriate ! This is your cabin while Master Paul and I are responsible for you; if you later opt for proper unaccompanied slavery, you'll most certainly be moved to the proper slave quarters... but I won't tell you about them; you'll just have to wait and see!

"Come along now," she continued briskly. "I want to get settled in my own cabin. You may come along, to see how we Masters and Mistresses live!" She led us to a cabin on a higher deck, opening its door with a flourish to show Brenda and Dan the spacious lounge area, the luxurious furnishings, the large soft bed, and so on. Their slightly rueful grins at each other showed that they 'got the message'!

However, my Mistress didn't do much 'settling in' just then. Instead, she said she wanted to introduce Brenda and Dan to Master Paul, and tried to phone his cabin; but there was no answer, so she suggested that we should all "go on a little tour of the ship, and maybe we'll find Master Paul on our travels." As it happened, Master Paul found us ... or, rather, Helen did! We were just coming out of the cabin when a familiar voice cried, "There they are!"... and I suddenly found two arms wrapped around my neck and I looked into Helen's smiling eyes. Her lips moved towards mine, but they stopped when Master Paul's voice interrupted drily, "Tut, tut, such an unseemly display in public: wouldn't it be better to keep it until later in private?"

His tone was casual and bantering, but there was no doubt it was meant as a command... and both Helen and I had a fair idea of what his 'in private' was hinting at! She grinned wryly, disengaged herself and said in perfect imitation of good but casual friends meeting, "It's lovely to see you again, Peter!" Suddenly, we found ourselves looking at each other, with nothing to say -- ironically, because we both knew we had lots to tell each other! (My Mistress had told me that Master Paul knew about my full-time slavery, but he hadn't told Helen except to say that I had a surprise for her, and also that she knew something that Helen would want to tell me.)

My Mistress chimed in smoothly and greeted Helen and Master Paul in a polite but friendly manner. "I agree," she smiled, "we should keep such displays of emotion for when we're in private: but then..." -- her pause was momentary but loaded with significance to Helen and me! -- "... we might even encourage them!"

She introduced Brenda and Dan to Master Paul: and subtly, in a way that the average onlooker would have noticed nothing, she made it quite clear that she was presenting inferiors to a superior ! For his part, Master Paul was perfectly polite; but his eyes scanned Brenda's body slowly, in such a way that she blushed deeply.

Her embarrassment, however, didn't last long; suddenly, the public address system came to life with, "Would all passengers please assemble in the main auditorium for important announcements!"

We happened to be fairly close to the auditorium, so we arrived early enough to find seats near the front. While we waited for the rest of the passengers to arrive, I overheard some of them saying to each other, "This is much earlier than usual: we're not even out of the harbour yet!", and I wondered exactly what they meant. I also wondered, as I noticed the many crew members showing passengers to their seats, when we would see them as crew slaves, naked except for their collar indicating their function -- and my pulse raced with excited anticipation!

At last everyone seemed to have arrived, and a Lady Officer came in with several other officers, all looking very smart in their crisp white uniforms. She took her place on the podium and spoke into the PA microphone there: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard -- especially those of you who are with us for the first time.

"As it happens," she went on, "the first announcement I have to make, has to do directly with 'first-timers'! The Purser tells me that, on this cruise, we have no first-time passengers who are unaware of the main purpose of our cruise, and the activities we all enjoy... which are? Let's hear it from you, loudly!"

Things were happening so differently from our previous cruise, that I wasn't quite sure what was going on. But I was left in no doubt by the roar of voices that responded to her invitation, calling things like, "Bondage and Discipline!", "Slavery!", "Sex slavery!" and so on.

"Right!" said the Lady Officer, now grinning broadly. "This time, we don't need to pretend to be an ordinary cruise to start with, for the sake of any first-time' slaves whose owners may want to spring a surprise on them with an island visit. Hence, we got the ball rolling immediately with this assembly, which is the appropriate place for my second announcement: All crew slaves below decks, strip!"

There was an instant flurry of activity as all the crew mambers around the room, except the few officers, took off their smart uniforms and dropped them on the floor, after taking from the pockets collars, which they fastened around their own necks. Then most of them stood at ease, hands clasped behind them, and smiled at the passengers: a few quickly collected the discarded uniforms and took them out, and within moments it was just as if the clothes had never been there! Beside me, Brenda and Dan gasped audibly as they took in this un-selfconscious display of nudity, and the speed with which it had appeared.

The Lady Officer spoke again: "Well done, crew slaves! Now we come to the next very enjoyable part of this first assembly. We call it the 'Introduction of the Slaves', and it merits a little explanation.

"Some of you, who have been with us before, may know which of the people sitting around you are Masters or Mistresses and which are slaves, but I'm sure most of you don't. Obviously, 'first-timers' will know very few, and very few will know you: also, as you are aware, sometimes 'owners' and slaves from previous cruises choose to change roles the next time. This, then, is the opportunity for everyone to announce -- and to find out -- who's who, as it were." She paused, as if to wait for all this to sink in.

"So," she continued, "down to business! Who'll be the lucky slave to be introduced first? Let's see now..." -- she consulted a list -- "... ah yes! The Purser has told me that we have an unusual situation on this cruise: namely, a 'first-time' couple who have both nominated to be unaccompanied slaves. Come on up, Brenda and Dan!"

Brenda and Dan were surprised and somewhat embarrassed; but, encouraged by my Mistress and Master Paul, they made their way up to the podium.

"Welcome to our cruise!" the Lady Officer greeted them, but gave them no time to reply before going on: "Now, I assume you know that slaves don't speak unless spoken to, and then in the fewest words possible, and that you should address your betters properly -- officers as Sir or Ma'am, passengers as Master or Mistress. You understand this?"

Brenda and Dan rose to the occasion and said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good!" was the reply. "The next thing we expect you to be aware of, is that slaves are normally naked. There may be exceptions to this, but only rarely and by special agreements, but there are never exceptions on this occasion. After all, the passengers want to see what's on offer -- especially with unaccompanied slaves!" I couldn't see Brenda's and Dan's faces, but the Lady Officer's smile told me that her point had struck home.

"The third thing I want to say," she went on, "and it's something you're not expected to know already, is that the crew slaves at this assembly have a job -- as 'strippers'. Obviously, this is not to undress for the audience: it is to undress you for the audience! However, with great kindness, we do allow you a choice: you may submit to being stripped by one of the crew slaves, or you may choose to undress yourselves, but with a penalty of five strokes with a light cane, in front of everyone here!

"Well?" she continued without the slightest pause to allow Brenda and Dan to consider their choice. "I want your answer now ! D'you want to take your own clothes off, and pay the penalty? Dan?"

"No, ma'am," Dan replied quickly and firmly.

"Brenda?"

Brenda stammered slightly, but managed an "Er... no, ma'am," too.

"I'm glad," smiled the Lady Officer, approvingly, "... and so is the audience." She allowed the short burst of enthusiastic applause to die down before she went on: "I see that neither of you have much experience of slavery, so I'll explain something: my demand for an instant answer was just to show you that sometimes you'll be expected to make similar choices, with no time at all to consider your options. That's just part of being a slave, and I'm pleased that you responded so well!

"Now," her tone changed to one of sharp command, "turn to face the audience, stand up straight and lift your arms just over your heads!"

Brenda and Dan obeyed... and their faces betrayed their surprise, as their wrists were instantly grabbed from behind, by the officers there, and fastened into cuffs that had silently descended from the ceiling! In a moment, their arms were pulled high, so that their feet only just bore their wieght and their bodies were fully stretched... but they were given no time to get used to this position.

"Strippers, do your job!" ordered the Lady Officer, and two crew slaves came forward, a male to face Brenda and a female to face Dan. From where I sat, a little to one side, I could see the male slave pause for several seconds, smiling into Brenda's eyes, before taking a firm grip with both hands on the collar of her light dress.

Brenda's eyes opened wide, as she realized what was coming, and her mouth opened wide. But she managed only a dismayed squeal, which was almost drowned by the "R-r-r-rip" of her dress being torn from neck to hem! In a moment, the slave was behind her, the dress bunched in his hand but still attached to Brenda's shoulders by its thin straps, her whole body revealed except for her bra and briefs.

The slave put one hand between her shoulder-blades to keep her still, as he slowly pulled harder and harder on the dress. Suddenly, the thin straps tore and Brenda's near-naked body arched forward for a moment, before the slave reached his arms around her and steadied her by cupping his hands over her generous tits. He kept them there for twenty seconds or so, as if he was fondling her, but I could see his fingers carefully feeling out the strength of the join between the cups of the bra.

With great strength, he suddenly tore that join apart and the bra simply fell to the floor. Brenda, clearly embarrassed -- but more, I suspected, by the manner of her stripping than by the exposure itself -- probably thought the slave would now caress her naked breasts, but in fact he took great care not to touch them at all. (I remembered that there was a ship's rule about slaves not fondling other slaves' bare flesh without specific permission!)

Now the slave's hands seemed to brush lightly down the sides of Brenda's body, and took a firm grip on her briefs where they passed over her hips. He began pulling them up and back, and the thin fabric steadily tightened and stretched over the mound of her pussy, outlining it even more prominently than before. Apparently, the flimsy-looking nylon was quite strong, and the slave had to put his knee into the small of Brenda's back to exert more pressure.

When the briefs finally tore, they did so suddenly and disappeared between her thighs as if they'd never been, and the force of the knee in her back thrust her hips forward sharply enough to make her feet actually leave the floor. Brenda grunted in pain and surprise as her arms took her weight for a moment, but she made no more sounds as the slave's hands grasped her hips and steadied her again... but held her totally naked body arched slightly forward, as if offering it to the gaze of the audience.

I'd seen Brenda naked last night, of course, but the effect of her public nakedness and the manner of her stripping was enough to make my cock start getting hard in my trousers. I realized that I'd been so fascinated by what was happening to Brenda, that I hadn't even noticed Dan being simultaneously stripped just a few feet away, but there he was, his naked body arched in a similar way to Brenda's.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Lady Officer announced dramatically, "I present slaves Brenda and Dan! Their registered numbers are 21 and 22..." -- two officers came forward and hung signs over Brenda's and Dan's heads -- "... and although they are unaccompanied slaves, since they are also 'first-timers', they will initially be under the patronage of Mistress Tina and Master Paul..." -- she gave two cabin numbers -- "... until such time as they choose to enter full unaccompanied slavery.

"Now, on with the show! The next unaccompanied slave to be introduced is..."

From then on, things moved more quickly. Another officer joined in, and each of the two oversaw the calling up and stripping of slaves, to each side of Brenda and Dan and down the sides of the room. After nine unaccompanied slaves, Masters and Mistresses were invited to bring up and introduce their own slaves, in no particular order: I was called up quite early, and my beloved Helen was one of the last, on the other side of the room.

Only two slaves chose to undress themselves, and the 'strippers' seemed able to vary the methods they used for almost every slave. For example: one woman had her clothing carefully slit at the back until only threads held it together, then a sudden quick tug at the front and it all just fell off to reveal her magnificent figure; a man had a hole cut in his trousers to expose his cock and balls first of all, then gradually widened until his remaining clothing fell away; one or two slave were wearing many layers, which were removed one by one; and one male slave wore, as his last undergarment, a sort of cod-piece that turned out to be glued to his shaved crotch, and had to be pulled off by force, to a series of squeals of pretended agony!

As the slaves left their chairs to be 'introduced', the crew slaves removed the chairs. Finally, 57 slaves -- I counted them -- were displayed around the walls of the room, and perhaps 70 or so Masters and Mistresses -- they weren't as easy to count -- were sitting in its centre: not only were there some unaccompanied slaves, but also there were clearly a number of 'owners' without their own slaves.

The Lady Officer announced at last, "That's all the passenger slaves, I believe, ladies and gentlemen. It's not as large a number as usual, but I think you'll agree that it's a fine lot of bodies and will give us all lots of fun! Also, because we have fewer passengers than usual on this cruise, and therefore the crew won't be very busy, the officers have donated some crew slaves, which will mean there's at least one slave per passenger."

At that moment, through the main door of the room, another officer led in 22 more naked men and women, who were soon lined up alongside all us other slaves and arranged in the same way. As this was happening, the Lady Officer went on, "These will be unaccompanied slaves for the duration of this cruise, and will be treated as such: they will have no crew duties at all, and therefore their collars are being removed, and they will live in the slave quarters and be available for you all to claim and use for your amusement and pleasure."

Eventually, she announced, "That is the end of the 'Introduction of the Slaves', and now it's time for the 'Inspection of the Slaves'. Dinner will be in two hours, and the slaves will remain on display here for 90 minutes. Please feel free to take a closer look at any slave that might interest you: you may note his or her number to obtain further details from the Purser's office, you may ask them questions and, of course, 'hands-on' inspection is positively encouraged! I and these officers will be on hand if you require any assistance. Enjoy!"

It was a strange scene to be part of: eighty-odd stark naked bodies standing in a semi-circle, our arms held up and so unable to cover any part of our nakedness, and a similar number of fully-clothed men and women sitting and looking at us, or moving quietly from one slave to another, 'inspecting' us just as if we were prime horse-flesh. It was embarrassing but, at the same time, very very exciting, and my cock was at least semi-hard throughout -- assisted, of course, by many hands (mainly Mistresses, but also some Masters) fondling it thoroughly and expertly! Most of their interest was in my sexual parts, but almost every inch of my body -- like that of all the slaves -- was stroked, pinched, prodded or tickled at some stage.

I behaved myself well, answering any questions simply and humbly -- even some very intimate ones! I noticed a few slaves who weren't so co-operative: two or three females tried to cross their thighs when a Master's hand wanted to explore between them, only to have a spreader fixed between their ankles; and a few slaves obviously insulted, or were insolent to, passengers and were gagged for their trouble.

Yet even the non-co-operation and disobedience was very obviously part of the game, done in order to 'test' the dominance of the Masters and Mistresses, or even to incur penalties deliberately. I knew, too, that I would probably act in the same way at some time on this cruise, but right now I was enjoying the exciting strangeness of the situation and my erotic helplessness to resist the hands running over my naked shackled body!

Eventually, the Lady Officer announced the end of the 'inspection'. My Mistress, who hadn't come near me the whole time, and had hardly looked at me except for one or two nods and quick smiles, took charge of me again: with handcuffs holding my wrists behind my back, I followed her across to Brenda and Dan, where we were met by Master Paul and Helen.

"Now that you've been formally introduced to the passengers," my Mistress addressed Brenda and Dan with a smile, "we'll be able to go on to (shall we say?) the next step of your introduction to slavery on this ship. OK?"

"Unless, of course," continued Master Paul before they could answer, "you've already had an offer that you want to take up?"

"No, Master Paul," was their reply, and in a few moments their arms were released from the hanging cuffs and their wrists were handcuffed behind them. Then my Mistress and Master Paul put spring clamps on their nipples, attached them to leashes and led them back to their cabin, with Helen and me following behind.

Inside their cabin, Brenda and Dan watched as Master Paul, almost ceremoniously, locked the cupboard containing all their clothes; their smiles were a touch wry, but their eyes were bright with excitement, when my Mistress stressed the point with a grin and the words, "Just think -- you won't be needing those at all for nearly two whole weeks: right now, you're wearing all the clothes that proper slaves are allowed!"

The new slaves' eyes were wide with interest, too, as my Mistress and Master Paul pointed out the many hooks and rings that seemed to have sprouted all over the cabin, on the beds, chairs, walls, floor and ceiling. "Some of the crew slaves were busy converting this cabin for slave occupancy while we were out," they were told. "When you're here alone, I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun, imagining how these rings etcetera might be used... not to mention all this!"

At these words, Master Paul opened the other cupboard, the one containing the quite extensive array of gear designed for bondage and discipline: Brenda's and Dan's eyes grew even wider, but more in anticipation than in fear, I could see. "Obviously," said Master Paul with a smile, "there's far too much here to even start telling you, in the short time before dinner, how it can be used: in any case, it'll be much more fun to show you directly... eh, Tina? Besides..."

He paused, his gaze coming to rest on Brenda's face, before he went on, "... I haven't yet had a good look at the slave-girl I've agreed to help look after, have I?" Compared to the long and speculative look he'd given Brenda's clothed body earlier, the way he now let his eyes travel slowly over every inch of her nakedness was far more thorough, intimate and frankly possessive. Brenda, who must have become at least a little used to this kind of thing during the 'inspection', still blushed deeply under the intensity of his gaze; but, thanks to the cuffs holding her hands behind her, she couldn't avoid it.

"Very nice," murmured Master Paul at last. "I don't think I'll mind at all, looking after you!" He moved closer and started to run his hands all over Brenda's voluptuous body, saying as he did so, "I went to the Purser's office during your inspection, and added my name to Mistress Tina's to be responsible for you and Dan until you ask us to release you into proper unaccompanied slavery. I also read the information you lodged there, about your interests and so on, and I'm sure we won't have any trouble making your slavery very enjoyable... like now, for instance."

What he meant was quite clear to us all, to none more than to Brenda: by now, one of his hands was between her thighs, cupping her pussy and playing with the lips of her cunt and her clit, while the other caressed her large breasts and toyed with her prominent nipples. Brenda's breathing began to quicken, and one or two small moans escaped her lips, as his clever fingers aroused her excitement... but only for a minute or so, before he drew back with a smile.

"That's just a small sample," he said. "We don't have time for any more before dinner. Afterwards, though, we'll really have some fun!"

Telling Brenda and Dan to shower, comb their hair, and so on, my Mistress and Master Paul left them to return to their own cabins and change for dinner. "See that you're waiting on your knees when we return to fetch you!" was the last order before the cabin door was closed, locking them inside.

My Mistress led me to her cabin, where I helped her shower and change. After showering myself, my wrists were again cuffed behind my back, and I followed her back to Brenda's and Dan's cabin... where we found Brenda kneeling alone on the floor!

"Where's Dan?" demanded my Mistress.

"Master Paul came a few minutes ago, Mistress," replied Brenda. "He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, and he couldn't decide which of us to take to dinner. So he tossed a coin, and took Dan."

My Mistress was clearly a bit annoyed that Master Paul had acted without consulting her, but she was too fair-minded to take it out on Brenda. "It's not your fault," she said. "Come along then, slave-girl." She fastened Brenda's wrists similarly to mine, and went on, "I want you to walk side-by-side with slave Peter: watch how he behaves, and follow his lead."

Brenda and I walked obediently behind my Mistress to the dining room, where -- to her surprise -- my Mistress found that she had been placed at a different table from Master Paul's. She ordered us to our knees, telling us to wait while she went to speak to him. As it happened, none of the other passengers at her table had arrived yet, so Brenda and I had a chance to chat for a few moments.

"How are we supposed to eat," asked Brenda, "with our hands behind our back like this?" I told her that either my Mistress would feed us, or we would have to eat straight out of a bowl on the floor. "Oh yes," she replied, "I remember now: you had to do that when you first visited us, didn't you? I'm not quite sure how I'll manage, though."

She didn't have to, as it turned out: although I had to eat from a bowl like a pet, my Mistress chose to feed Brenda herself. Brenda behaved beautifully, 'begging' nicely and daintily accepting the morsels of food from my Mistress' fork; at one point, she smiled at me and whispered, "This is fun, isn't it? So deliciously humiliating!"

We slaves were supposed to keep quiet, while my Mistress and her companions chatted animatedly over their meal; they pretended hardly to notice us, but my Mistress still managed to feed Brenda adequately and skillfully. The lack of attention or cnversation, however, detracted hardly at all from our enjoyment of our surroundings: Brenda, in particular, was understandably fascinated by the sights around her -- the other slaves kneeling or standing beside their 'owners', and especially the crew slaves as they went about serving the meal. More than once, she found the cock or pussy of a male or female crew member passing within inches of her face as they brushed past her kneeling form to serve food or remove dishes!

After dinner, my Mistress took us across to join Master Paul and Helen and Dan. Unlike Brenda and I, the latter two had their ankles hobbled but their hands free; as we made our way back to Brenda's and Dan's cabin, Helen was told to use her hands to lead Dan and me with a good grip on our cocks, while my Mistress and Master Paul led Brenda themselves, each with a thumb and finger grasping one of her nipples. Inside their cabin, Brenda and Dan were told that the time had come for them to submit to "several hours of bondage, tight and maybe uncomfortable, and possibly even a little pain!"; significantly -- and this wasn't lost on them -- they weren't even asked to agree or refuse!

"But first," said Master Paul, "it's time for Helen to greet Peter... properly!... in private!..." He positioned Helen and me between the two beds, standing face to face with Helen on a low box to bring her face level with mine, then "OK, Helen," he went on, "use your hands on Peter's cock..." -- it took but a moment for my cock to get hard -- "... now put it between your thighs and hold it tight... now give him the kiss you almost started this afternoon, and make it as deep and passionate as you like... and don't stop kissing him until you're ordered to! "

With Helen's thighs clutching my erect cock, her magnificent tits pressed into my chest, her arms around me, her soft lips clamped on mine and her tongue exploring my mouth, I was hoping the order to stop wouldn't come too soon. And my wish was granted: our kiss must have lasted at least an hour! Not only were we kept together by Master Paul's order; he also wrapped straps tightly around our thighs, waists, and shoulders, and more loosely around our necks, and Helen's arms were tied to keep them in place around my back.

Soon after this arrangement was completed, I suddenly saw, past Helen's head, Master Paul taking aim with a cane at her bum. There was no warning for her, just a swish followed by a smack: her surprised squeal into my mouth was interrupted by Master Paul's voice saying, "That was for greeting Peter this afternoon with such misplaced enthusiasm, but even more serious..." -- two more strokes landed across Helen's buttocks -- "... those were for forgetting to greet Mistress Tina first, and for not asking her permission even to speak to her slave!

"Now that you've paid your penalty, slave-girl," continued Master Paul after a moment, "you may enjoy each other's company while we introduce these new slaves to some of the interesting activities on board this ship." And so, while Helen and I 'enjoyed' our predicament -- and we did! -- my Mistress and Master Paul turned their attention to Brenda and Dan.

I found that, thanks to the mirrors with which the cabin was well equipped, I could see, past Helen's head, a good deal of what was happening; and I think Helen could do likewise. I watched my Mistress with Dan, as she made him kneel on a bed with his ankles spread and fastened to rings on its side; then she tied his wrists to his ankles, and made him push his hips well forward. In a mirror, I caught glimpses of Master Paul setting Brenda up in the same way.

Now, both my Mistress and Master Paul began asking their captives questions, alternating between Brenda and Dan. The 'interrogation' went something like this....

"What are you?"

"A slave, Master."

"Whose slave?"

"Yours, Mistress."

"Not quite the answer we wanted: try again."

"Your slave, Master and Mistress."

"You're getting warmer: try again."

At this point, both Brenda and Dan admitted they didn't know the correct answer, and they were told, "You nominated for this cruise as unaccompanied slaves, which means that you're the public property of all the Masters and Mistresses on board. There'll be a penalty for your stupidity later. Now, how long have you been such public property?"

"Since the 'Introduction of Slaves' this afternoon, Master."

"Correct. Now we want you to tell us how you felt during that introduction and the following inspection, in as much detail as you can."

Brenda's and Dan's replies, combined into a single sequence, went something like this: "I was very nervous at first, but also felt excitement and anticipation as we went up to the podium. I almost took the choice of undressing myself," -- this was Brenda speaking -- "but I decided that being undressed couldn't be too bad and, anyway, I would be able to resist them taking 'liberties' with me. But my hands being taken and held out of the way removed this possibility; and, when I suddenly realized..." -- both of them mentioned this -- "... that my clothes were to be ripped off, I did feel some fear and wondered if I'd put myself at the mercy of real sadists.

"Almost before I knew it, I was stark naked, and the fear of really being hurt was lost in the feelings of shame at my helpless exposure to so many people. This was a bit strange, because I'm not ashamed of my body and I usually don't mind being naked in front of one or two other people; but this was different, somehow, and these feelings persisted even when the audience's attention left me to watch the stripping of the other slaves. Gradually, my fear disappeared entirely, as I watched other slaves who had obviously submitted to this before, and real sadism or pain seemed much less likely.

"The fear was gone, but the shame got stronger when the inspection started; by now I'd recognized that my helplessness and inability to cover myself was a big part of these feelings. At first, I tried to close my mind and pretend this wasn't happening, but one of the first Mistresses to inspect me..." -- this was Dan -- "... started to fondle me very intimately and skillfully: I just couldn't ignore it, so I decided to try to relax and enjoy it.

"Suddenly everything changed: the humiliation itself became exciting, and the feeling was strengthened by my helplessness and my knowledge that I was totally at her mercy! Somehow, I knew that a serious request to be released would be honoured; but this knowledge seemed to make it unnecessary to make that request."

My Mistress and Master Paul listened closely; at the end, they said, "That was interesting, slaves. Now we want you both to describe, in very explicit detail, the inspections you each enjoyed most... and least."

This took a little time, with Brenda and Dan describing the sensations of hands on their tits, nipples, bums, between their legs and on their cock or cunt or clit, and so on... and my Mistress and Master Paul duplicating the actions they described!

Finally, there was "... one last question: was there any part of your bodies that every Master or Mistress inspected?"

"Yes," both Brenda and Dan replied, "my mouth and lips and tongue."

"Right!" was the response. "We assume you're learning about your slavery quickly enough to know what that means without having to be told: instead, you will now practise what it means!"

Within two minutes, Brenda and Dan were re-tied face up on their respective beds, with their heads hanging over the ends and their legs drawn over until their ankles could be fastened to the corners of the beds beside their heads. They were also blindfolded -- "We want you to pass this next initiation stage, before you'll be allowed to see a Master or Mistress naked," they were told.

Helen and I were freed, then my Mistress and Master Paul stripped and all four of us took turns to put our pussies and cocks to Brenda's and Dan's mouths, and to fondle their wide-open and easily accessible crotches. However, when Master Paul first put his cock to Dan's mouth, and my Mistress her pussy to Brenda's, they both shook their heads, clearly reluctant to co-operate; but my Mistress bent down and said quietly, "You must understand that unaccompanied slaves are the property of both Masters and Mistresses, and that one slave's mouth, whether male or female, is as good as another's. We'll use a cane on your beautifully exposed bums until you're willing to co-operate, but if we reach a certain number before you agree, we'll tell the Purser that you're not really prepared to be unaccompanied slaves."

Brenda gave in after Master Paul gave her just one fairly light cut with the cane, pushing her tongue well out to taste my Mistress' pussy. But, a little later, my Mistress had to give the tautly stretched flesh of Dan's buttocks three increasingly firm strokes before he opened his mouth to accept Master Paul's cock. Later, he sucked and licked my cock, too; although it was obvious that he didn't really enjoy this and had probably never done it before, he was still able to give me a good deal of pleasure. Finally, after forty minutes or so, my Mistress climaxed with Dan's tongue busy on her clit, and Master Paul, having been brought to the brink of his orgasm by Brenda's mouth, withdrew his cock and allowed it to spurt its juices over her tits and belly.

Brenda's and Dan's blindfolds were removed, and they were allowed a brief glimpse of my Mistress' and Master Paul's naked bodies before the latter got dressed. Then they looked down at Brenda and Dan and asked smilingly, "Well, how did you like your first taste of your public slavery?"

"It wasn't exactly as I expected," was the gist of their replies, "but it was exciting and I'm sure it'll be a lot of fun!"

"We can promise that you'll find a lot of things unexpected," responded my Mistress with a grin, "but you can also be sure that it'll be fun! Now, Paul, shall we change their bondage?..."

Before Master Paul could answer, Brenda piped up tentatively, "May I ask something, Master?" When he gave permission, she went on, "Please, will you tickle my clit and make me come? After all the fondling during the inspection this afternoon and just now, then giving you pleasure, now I'm so excited...."

"No, slave-girl, not now," replied Master Paul. "You must learn that your pleasure isn't important: you'll be given an orgasm when it amuses me or another Master to watch you."

Brenda was clearly disappointed, but she submitted, along with Dan, to being tied in a standing spreadeagle against the wall. Soon afterwards there was a tap on the door -- my Mistress had called room service a little earlier -- and she opened it to admit a 'steward' slave-girl: she was carrying a tray, attached to a very tight belt around her narrow waist, its outer corners supported by thin chains to rings piercing her nipples; in addition, her wrists and elbows were tied behind her back, and she was hobbled by a short chain.

Helen and I were ordered to remove the contents of the tray; the crew slave then turned to Master Paul and asked him to sign for the order... with a felt-tip pen on her bum! He did so, noting that there were several signatures already there, and asked her how long she would be on duty: "I'm on the night shift, sir," she replied cheerfully, "and I'm on duty until sunrise. The first night after the 'Introduction', it seems no-one sleeps at all!"

My Mistress and Master Paul got comfortable with their drinks and nibbles, and Helen and I were told to give Brenda and Dan something to drink and to have some ourselves. Then we were ordered to kneel and face each other, and I wondered what was about to happen.

"You both know," said my Mistress, "that you each have something to tell the other. Now's your chance: Peter first."

I'd hoped that I would be able to tell Helen my news in private, just between us, but now I had no option; I told her about my submission to full-time slavery to my Mistress, including how it happened and even our meeting and 'recruitment' of Brenda and Dan. She was fascinated and obviously very happy for me, and wanted to ask me lots of questions about the terms of my slavery and my treatment and so on.

Finally, Master Paul stopped her questions and said, "Now it's your turn, Helen: tell Peter your news."

"Well, Peter," she said, her eyes shining with excitement, "remember me telling you about the loan my Master had to take, for us to take our 'honeymoon' on that last cruise?... Well, your Mistress has paid off that loan and, without that obligation on him, my Master has left his job -- otherwise we wouldn't have been able to come on this cruise so soon. But the best part is: my Master will be starting a new job after this cruise... as an officer on this ship!"

I stared at her in amazement as she went on, her words almost falling over each other in her excitement: "Just think: we'll be on the ship full-time, one cruise after another, and I'll be a crew slave! Unfortunately..." She paused and looked at me almost sadly before going on, "... for us, it means that I'll be spending some of this cruise 'trying out' for a suitable crew position, and so you and I will see less of each other."

She chattered on for a while, and I asked some questions, including "What sort of crew position would you like?"

"Whatever my Master wants me to do," was her reply; but here Master Paul interjected, insisting that she express at least some preference. "Well," she mused, "maybe a job like Nicole's in the Purser's office: I'd meet lots of passengers and perhaps learn about the exciting activities that interest them all!"

For my part, I had to admit that I was more than a little envious of my beloved Helen: her future seemed to me enormously exciting!

Later, my Mistress and Master Paul released Brenda and Dan and said to them, "Tonight we'll leave you completely unshackled. You should be aware that this is a big favour, to be able to cuddle each other freely: normally, slaves are only allowed to touch each other for the amusement of Masters and Mistresses, and they spend their nights either in bondage or shackled apart or even separated. Just see that you don't wear yourselves out, and get some sleep: there'll be lots of time and plenty of activity over the coming days!

"As unaccompanied slaves," was the final instruction, "you'll be woken by a siren piped in here one hour before breakfast. We'll come to collect you any time after half an hour later: be sure that you're waiting appropriately!"

They turned the light out and left with Helen and me. To my disappointment, they took us each to their own cabins: I'd hoped for some more activities with Helen! Instead, my Mistress simply made me undress her and give her a gentle massage, before we settled down to sleep, with me shackled on my hard pallet.

Next morning I woke early and, following my instructions, waited for my shackles to open automatically so that I could get up quietly and shower without waking my Mistress. Then I roused her very gently, and helped her to bathe and dress.

While she was dressing, Master Paul phoned and arranged with her to meet us at Brenda's and Dan's cabin. When she was ready, she encased my arms in a 'single-sleeve' behind my back, then put clamps on my nipples and attached a leash to them. She led me out and down to Brenda's and Dan's cabin, where we met Master Paul and Helen, the latter wearing a sleeve and nipple clamps exactly like mine.

Master Paul opened the cabin door, to reveal Brenda and Dan kneeling just inside, their bodies held erect and their hands clasped behind them. He and my Mistress looked down at them for a long moment, saying nothing but with approval clear on their faces.

"Well, slaves," said my Mistress at length, "we trust you enjoyed your last night of relative freedom for some time. Today you'll learn a little more about the life of slaves on board this ship. Dan, fetch two pairs of ankle cuffs with short hobbles... put one pair on slave Brenda's ankles... now, Brenda, put the other pair on Dan... good, now you may follow us, and you can take these other slaves' leashes to bring them along as well!"

So off we all went to the breakfast room, our 'owners' sauntering casually in front, Brenda and Dan hobbling behind them, and Helen and myself bringing up the rear at the ends of our leashes. Naturally, we encountered other people going in the same direction: my Mistress and Master Paul greeted their equals cordially, and we slaves smiled at our equals, a little shyly and -- in the case of Brenda and Dan -- a touch embarrassed by their nakedness and that of the other slaves.

Their embarrassment, however, detracted little from their interest in what was going on around them: during breakfast, which they had to serve to my Mistress and Master Paul -- as well as feeding Helen and me! -- their eyes were busy, constantly taking in the sight of the many other slaves, almost all as stark naked as themselves, shackled in an enormous variety of ways, and obediently waiting on their own Masters or Mistresses.

After breakfast, we all went on a tour of the ship -- a leisurely one, since Brenda and Dan were still wearing the short hobbles that restricted their walk to little more than a shuffle! In addition, their wrists were bound behind them with the ends of the leashes attached to Helen's and my nipples, Brenda to Helen and Dan to me. My Mistress and Master Paul showed them how things were done and explained many of the rules in force for slaves; they were given permission to ask any questions they wished, so long as they never interrupted our 'owners', and we slaves were allowed to chat between ourselves, so long as we were quiet and didn't disturb our 'betters'.

Now that we were well out at sea, and no other shipping was nearby, we slaves -- both passenger and crew -- were naked on deck as well as below decks. As at breakfast, Brenda and Dan were fascinated by the constant display of both male and female bodies, as the passengers went about the activities common to any cruise ship: swimming, sunbathing, deck games, or simply relaxing. They saw the casualness with which the Masters and Mistresses treated their slaves, an attitude that was clearly contrived to appear natural, but was often betrayed by the intense interest with which those same Masters and Mistresses would fondle the naked bodies of their own or other slaves.

Nor did Brenda and Dan themselves escape their share of such fondling! On a dozen or more occasions, other Masters or Mistresses, with whom my Mistress and Master Paul were chatting, asked their leave with a casual "May I?" and a glance at one or other of us four slaves: never once was it refused, and Brenda or Dan -- or, for that matter, Helen or I! -- had to submit to hands running in a proprietary and exploratory manner over our nakedness. With our hands fastened behind us, there was of course nothing at all we could do to prevent this: even an attempt to run away would have been hopeless, with Brenda's and Dan's hobbled ankles and Helen's and my nipples leashed to their bound wrists.

Helen's and my previous experiences had accustomed us to this treatment; but Brenda and Dan, despite the 'inspection' of the previous afternoon, were still not quite used to being handled by complete strangers in this way. To their credit, however, they never even demurred -- although several times Brenda blushed deeply, when some Master's fingers deliberately slipped between her thighs and parted the lips of her cunt, and once an even deeper flush crossed Dan's face, when a very attractive Mistress smiled sexily into his eyes while she stroked his cock into a hard erection... for all to see!

It was this public exposure, they confessed to Helen and me, that was most difficult to get used to: it was so different from the private nakedness and slavery games they had enjoyed since meeting my Mistress and me, and also from two evenings ago at their motel with us, or last night with Master Paul and Helen as well. Helen and I commiserated with them, and assured them that they would eventually get more used to it... but perhaps never completely, as we proved by blushing ourselves at some particularly intimate handling. We suggested, however, that this could be part of the great fun of being slaves; and I think they believed us.

Brenda and Dan were especially interested in another aspect of the ship: namely, the crew slaves, whom we saw carrying out their various duties, some under supervision and others all on their own. Their un-selfconscious nakedness, the tanned attractiveness of their bodies, and their cheerful obedience to their officers, seemed to fascinate the two new slaves: they wanted to know the meaning of each crew member's 'uniform' -- the collars that were their only 'clothing', colour-coded to signify the various duties they were assigned to. And they watched avidly when, once or twice, my Mistress or Master Paul stopped a passing crew slave to give him or her a brief fondle -- perhaps with a touch of regret that they'd agreed to my Mistress' suggestion to be slaves on this cruise?

I, too, was interested... in one particular crew slave, whom we came across working in the ship's communications centre. It was Wendy, the girl who, on our previous cruise, had teamed with me to win a deck-games contest; we'd been rewarded by being allowed to screw, on the open deck and with all the other contestants and their 'owners' watching! My Mistress remembered her, too, and allowed me to chat with her a while, in the intervals between the messages she had to handle.

Wendy told me that she'd been accepted as a permanent crew slave and, to her delight, as the personal slave of the officer she'd hoped would take her on. She was loving it, "...although," she admitted with a wry smile, "my job on this cruise isn't as much fun as on some others!" We could all see what she meant: she was virtually alone in a small room, and bound tightly to a hard, straight-backed chair, with her legs spread widely, her ankles drawn back, and her wrists shackled to the switchboard she was operating. Only the occasional visit by passengers or officers relieved the tedium of her job, she told us... and smiled gratefully when Master Paul took her hint and caressed her wide-open pussy for a minute or two!

"But it's worth it," she went on cheerfully. "When we're both off duty, my officer gives me lots of exciting bondage, and so many orgasms that I lose count! And then there are the group activities with the other crew slaves... and sometimes with the passengers as well. Excuse me." She was interrupted by an incoming call, and we left her to continue our tour.

We finished it shortly before lunch, and my Mistress and Master Paul decided it was time to give Helen and me some relief from the clamps pinching our nipples. Relief it certainly was, but not without some considerable discomfort: after the clamps were removed -- which itself gave us a thrill of pleasure mixed with pain -- Brenda and Dan were ordered to suck and nibble on our nipples -- mine and Helen's respectively, and their lips and teeth on that very tender flesh were both erotic and intensely uncomfortable!

During lunch itself, Helen's and my arms were freed, while the leashes still binding Brenda's and Dan's wrists were passed between their legs and the clamps fastened on their nipples. They knelt beside our 'owners' as Helen and I served lunch, feeding them and ourselves only when those 'owners' were satisfied.

My Mistress and Master Paul chatted as they ate, mainly passing explicit comments about slaves, both passenger and crew, who passed by. Eventually, they began to discuss what they might do that afternoon: they turned to Brenda and Dan and said, "Now that you have some idea of what happens on this ship, we'll grant you the privilege of suggesting what we might do this afternoon."

The two slaves thought for a moment, then Brenda suggested "... some activity with other slaves and Masters and Mistresses around, to help us get used to our nakedness and so on, and prepare for our proper unaccompanied slavery." "Yes," chimed in Dan, "and we overheard someone talking about classes in fitness and manners for slaves this afternoon; could we perhaps go to those?"

"A very good idea," replied Master Paul. "In fact, I think unaccompanied slaves are expected to attend those classes, anyway."

"Slave Peter can go along, too," said my Mistress. "It can't do him any harm. How about Helen?" she asked Master Paul.

"I'm afraid not," was his almost regretful answer. "We have an appointment with some officers, regarding my slave-girl's place on the crew."

So it was just Brenda and Dan and I who made our way to the designated part of the deck, and joined about twenty other slaves for the first 'class', one intended to improve our fitness. The exercises were led by a female crew slave, supervised by a male officer: the former had a trim but well-rounded body, which she -- quite un-selfconscious at its nudity -- could put into amazing gyrations and contortions, and which had the inevitable effect on the cocks of the watching male slaves. Although not so obviously, the female slaves were similarly affected by the officer, whose skin-tight leotards showed off his slim but muscular body and his clearly well-endowed crotch!

"Remember, slaves," he told us, "your fitness means a body that looks good naked. Also, the paying passengers on this ship prefer slaves who are supple enough to endure easily a large variety of bondage ideas." And to this end he worked us pretty hard, using the lovely naked body of his slave assistant to demonstrate what we should be aiming for.

There was, however, some opportunity for us slaves to rest between exercises, and to chat with the partners we were randomly paired with. The exercises themselves involved a good deal of touching and even massaging, as we helped each other to stretch our muscles and tendons, and it wasn't easy to resist the temptation to fondle each other's bodies in more intimate ways -- but for the watchful eyes of the officer, who saw to it that none of that went on! For some of the time I was paired with Brenda, whose smiles and sparkling eyes showed how she was enjoying herself; and I also noticed Dan having little difficulty in chatting brightly with his partners.

After more than an hour of this, we slaves were given a quick hose-down and rub dry, before resuming with the 'manners' class. This was supervised by a severe but attractive female officer, who used two crew slaves, male and female, as examples of 'proper' slave behaviour. "This behaviour," she told us, "will be expected of you on this cruise, so you better learn it well. Unaccompanied slaves may be claimed to serve many Masters and Mistresses, so it's best to have common conventions for behaviour that are understood by all passengers. You'll learn how to stand, sit, kneel and so on, how to walk, serve food and drink, and how to pose your naked bodies to their best advantage."

At her curt commands and signals, the two crew slaves demonstrated the correct responses and 'manners', then we other slaves had to practise them. For those actually involving 'owners', some Masters and Mistresses who had previously been watching, were called on to accept the service and poses of us trainees': this meant that we slaves had an opportunity to be close to, and even to talk with, a number of different 'owners'. After the weeks of serving my Mistress exclusively, I found myself enjoying this a lot!

I also tried to 'keep an eye on' Brenda and Dan. By the time another hour or so had passed, I could already see their confidence growing: they held their naked bodies more proudly and un-selfconsciously than before, yet they also showed the humility and servility that was excpected of us slaves. When the class was over, and we were waiting for my Mistress to reclaim us, I told them what I'd noticed: they accepted my compliment gracefully, and agreed that they were beginning to feel more at ease.

My Mistress, who had disappeared during the classes, returned and told us that she wanted a swim, and we were to join her. At the pool, she shrugged off the robe she was wearing, to reveal a stunning one-piece swimsuit, cut very high over her hips and low at the back and clinging to every inch of her slim but shapely body. Instantly, Dan's and my cocks started to get hard.

"You male slaves are funny!" my Mistress laughed delightedly. "All these naked female slaves around, yet you still get excited at the sight of a perfectly decent swimsuit! However, I'll take it as a compliment... and it's given me an idea, to put your interest to good use!" She reached down to grasp our cocks, one in each hand, and went on, "To save me the effort, I want you to pull me -- at least two laps of the pool!"

The task she demanded wasn't all that easy, but it was enjoyable in its own rather humiliating fashion. Dan and I had to swim backstroke, while my Mistress simply relaxed in the water and allowed us to tow her along; her skillful hands kept squeezing and relaxing on our cocks, maintaining their erection and hence providing her with a good grip and, at the same time, making our task more fun! Afterwards, we were allowed to swim by ourselves, but she made a point of reminding us that slaves were always expected to swim backstroke, so that our cocks and balls -- or, in Brenda's case, tits and pussy -- would be on view as much as possible.

A little later I was relaxing in a corner of the pool, when there was a sudden splash and I found Helen beside me. Hardly giving me time to respond to her bright eyes and big smile, she said, "I've just had a lovely time with some of the senior officers, who were checking my suitablility for a crew slave job!" I prompted her for more details, and spent the next few minutes listening in fascination.

"Well," she said, "first they tied me standing spreadeagled in the middle of the room, and inspected me very very thoroughly: I don't think I've ever had every inch of me touched and stroked and prodded so carefully... unless it was that inspection at Mistress Anne's, remember?" (Those readers who have read my first tale will know what she meant; those who haven't, well, I'm afraid I can't enlighten you!) "At the end, I was thrilled to hear them tell Master Paul that there was no problem with me physically, in fact I'm one of the most attractive slaves they've ever seen!"

I started to say that I could have told them that, but she carried on with barely a pause: "Then they asked me and Master Paul a whole lot of questions about my skills and interests, not only in the work I used to do or housekeeping, but in sexual things as well! I hadn't expected it to go quite like this, and I was quite embarrassed when my Master calmly told them, without even looking at me, just about every little detail of what turns me on and what he does to me. It really impressed on me that being a crew slave will mean being the slave of all the officers, not just my Master!

"Then I was untied and taken into a side room, where I had to give head in turn to three of them, two men and one woman: meanwhile, the others were discussing other things with my Master. Finally, they brought me back into the first room, tied me arched backwards over a low bench with my legs spread so wide I thought I would split, and asked Master Paul to play with me and bring me to an orgasm as quickly as he could.

"You know me!" Helen grinned at me. "I like sucking cocks, so I was already pretty turned on: it took only a couple of minutes before I climaxed, in fact I think the climax itself lasted longer than the time it took to arouse me! The officers all sat and watched quite calmly and coolly, but I didn't mind: I guessed they would like a slave who responds quickly to stimulation, and maybe it'll help me get a good job on the crew."

"D'you mean they haven't decided yet, what job to give you?" I asked.

"No," she replied. "Master Paul told me afterwards that there will be quite a few more 'interviews', similar but different, before they decide."

Just then, my Mistress and Master Paul came and told us it was time to dress for dinner. We and Brenda and Dan followed them to the latter's cabin; before locking the door, they surprised all us slaves by saying that slaves as well as 'owners' were expected "... to dress for dinner tonight!" To Brenda and Dan, they went on to explain: "You may choose anything from this drawer, but we want you both to wear matching 'costumes'. And see that everything is properly fastened -- by 'properly', we mean nice and snug -- but you won't need to put on any shackles if you don't want."

Leaving Brenda and Dan in their locked cabin, my Mistress and Master Paul took me and Helen to their respective cabins. After showering, this time my Mistress got me ready first, making me 'dress up' in only a collar and bow tie, white shirt cuffs (with no shirt, of course!) and cuff-links, black socks and shiny shoes, and a black leather cock sheath fastened very tight around the base of my scrotum. Then I helped her dress, in an elegant and sexy red sheath dress, her shoulders bare but with long white gloves on her hands.

We met Master Paul and Helen outside Brenda's and Dan's cabin. Master Paul was dressed in a casual but very smart suit: Helen was wearing very high-heeled black sandals, black sheer stockings and a short black pleated skirt, but she was bare above the waist. My Mistress' comment that this was "... very modest for a slave" was greeted with a smile from Master Paul: he showed her that the skirt was not pleated, but instead consisted of separate strips of fabric, and he drew some of them aside to reveal nothing but lacy red suspenders. A glimpse of these, brief though it was, was enough to make my cock get hard in its sheath!

We entered the cabin, and Brenda and Dan were ordered to 'model' their costumes. They were both wearing wide belts, cinched very tightly around their waists, with narrower straps leading down through their crotches: Dan's cock was held, by means of several shiny rings, up along the strap over his belly, and his balls were separated by more rings. Both Brenda's and Dan's nipples bore spring clamps, with short chains pulling them towards each other and weights dangling from their centres.

My Mistress and Master Paul inspected these costumes closely: they checked the tightness of the straps by trying to push their fingers under them, and -- in Dan's case -- pulled the crotch strap one notch tighter. They also asked whether the crotch straps included plugs for the wearers' rectums, and were pleased to hear the affirmative reply.

"And I presume," said Master Paul, with his hand cupping Brenda's pussy as it bulged to each side of the strap, "that there's a dildo under here?... Yes?... Good: Dan, go to the drawer and bring me the next larger and the next smaller dildo, in case I think a larger one might be better."

Dan obeyed, and Master Paul made a great show of considering the choice that had been made. "Was that the biggest one your little cunt could manage, slave-girl?" he asked Brenda. "I think, before this cruise is over, that you'll be trained to take at least two sizes bigger."

He smiled as Brenda stared at him, her eyes wide: then he said sharply, Come here, slave Helen!... legs apart!" Helen obeyed, he reached under her skirt with the larger dildo, and in one smooth movement slid its full length into her cunt. Ignoring Helen's small gasp, he went on to Brenda, "See? She took that one without even trying: later we might see if you can do it too, eh?

"But not now," he continued. "I think your costumes will do fine for dinner tonight, don't you agree, Tina?"

"Not quite," replied my Mistress. "For a 'dress-up' dinner, I think even slaves should wear something on their feet. Let's see what we can find."

Master Paul agreed, and a short search produced two pairs of sandals with long thin straps to be laced up the wearers' calves. To save time, Helen and I had to put these on Brenda and Dan, who then paraded for another inspection. This time my Mistress announced herself satisfied, but Master Paul demurred.

"I've changed my mind," he said. "I think spreader bars would just set off those sandals nicely."

So spreader bars it was, and at last we all set off for the dining room. Brenda and Dan were made to walk in front, and my Mistress and Master Paul made no secret of their amusement at the two slaves' awkward gait, caused by the combination of the spreaders and the plugs held tightly in their rectums!

Tonight we were all assigned to the same table for dinner, but we slaves spent by no means all our time there: the whole point of us 'dressing up' was to provide the dining Masters and Mistresses with entertainment! While they enjoyed their aperitifs, we were all paraded in front of the Captain's table; then, between courses for the rest of the meal, we had to circulate amongst the tables, stopping on demand to be fondled and have our costumes inspected more closely.

I found myself as fascinated as the diners by the variety of costumes, some of them quite outrageous, some elaborate, nearly all humiliating in some way, and most only minimally covering their wearers' naked bodies. Helen's skirt, in fact, was one of the more 'modest'; but, after its true nature had been shown, it proved to be one of the more popular, and very many hands slipped between its strips to caress her bottom or explore the secrets of her pussy. Brenda and Dan also got their share of attention and, by the end of the meal, the constant swinging of the weights on their nipples had caused enough discomfort for them to request the removal of the clamps.

This was granted, but Brenda's and Dan's discomfort by no means ceased, because my Mistress and Master Paul made sure to bring their nipples back to their normal shape with vigorous rubbing and rolling in their fingers! This attention continued throughout the short display of bondage we attended, and Brenda and Dan showed commendable self-control by never once interrupting the rapt interest of the small audience with grunts of pain. Perhaps they hardly felt it, anyway, so intently did they watch the display, which was staged by some officers with their crew slaves and which featured some very tight bondage in severe positions.

After this show, my Mistress and Master Paul told Helen and me to take our fellow-slaves to one of the bondage rooms that they had booked. We obeyed and, as we went, Brenda and Dan had their first taste of the rule regarding unescorted slaves: twice we were stopped by passing Masters or Mistresses and our near-naked bodies given brief but thorough fondles. Once in the bondage room, we stood in a line facing the door, with our legs apart -- Brenda and Dan were still wearing their spreaders, of course! -- and our hands clasped behind our necks, and waited.

It was about fifteen minutes before our 'owners' entered. My Mistress was wearing a kind of leotard made of black latex: at the sides, it was cut almost up to her armpits, only a narrow strip holding it snug around her waist, and at front and back it plunged to well below her waist; she also wore skin-tight black boots that reached above her knees. Master Paul was similarly dressed, but not so dramatically... to my eyes, at least, although I did see Brenda gazing with keen interest at the very prominent bulge at the crotch of his leotards!

Taking their time, they looked us slaves up and down for a little time without speaking. Then Master Paul removed the skirt from Helen's hips with a comment to my Mistress: "This garment is hardly appropriate to what we're here for, is it? Why don't you give our newer slaves a little explanation?"

"OK," smiled my Mistress, and turned to Brenda and Dan. "Last night was just an introduction, when we tried to make sure you understood your position as slaves and gave you a taste of the main way in which you are expected to give pleasure to your betters. Tonight, we intend to enjoy ourselves with you, by giving you all some real serious bondage and perhaps some discipline as well -- especially if you give us less than instant obedience! On second thought, however, you'll probably have very little chance for disobedience anyway, so maybe 'submission' would be a better word. Remember, as slaves, you're expected to submit to whatever treatment we choose to give you, and you simply have to trust us not to inflict severe pain or real injury, or to take you beyond the limits you have already told us. Right, Paul, let's see whom we'll tie up first."

Master Paul produced a deck of cards from one of the cupboards lining the room. "These are regular playing cards," he told us slaves, "with the usual suits and numbers, but each one is illustrated with a different picture of a slave in bondage. We'll use them to decide how you'll each be bound: this makes it easy for us, and none of you will feel that we're showing any favouritism. Now, to choose our first subject, Mistress Tina will select a card: the suit will decide who it will be, and the picture will show how that slave will be bound."

Naturally, we slaves all watched with interest as he shuffled the cards and fanned them for my Mistress. She picked one and, without looking at it herself, showed it to us, saying, "The red suits show female slaves, the black males; and we've decided that Spades means Peter, Hearts means Helen, Diamonds Brenda and Clubs Dan. I want the slave who's been chosen by this card to step forward."

The card was a Diamond, so Brenda took a step forward, perhaps a trifle hesitantly. My Mistress gave her an approving smile and turned the card over: her smile broadened when she saw the way the pictured slave-girl was bound, and she said, "That's an interesting position, isn't it? Wait there and don't move, while Master Paul and I find the necessary gear."

Within a couple of minutes, Brenda was bound in exactly the way depicted on the card: face down on a low padded bench, her body was drawn into an inverted arch by ropes and a pulley attached to her wrists and ankles. When her bondage was complete, Master Paul removed the belt she'd worn for dinner, and the strap between her legs with its dildo and rectal plug, leaving her stark naked again.

The next card was a Spade, so it was my turn to be bound. My decorative collar and cuffs were removed, along with my shoes, but not the sheath on my cock: then I had to sit on a specially-designed bondage chair with rather uncomfortable ridges for a seat, my legs were tied wide apart, and my elbows and wrists were bound tightly behind me to the narrow back of the chair.

A Club was drawn next, and Dan submitted meekly to the bondage illustrated on that card: he was soon balanced on his wide-spread knees, with his ankles drawn up and tied to his wrists, and supported by a padded bar passing behind his back and under his arms. Like Brenda, his belt and crotch-strap and butt-plug were removed, allowing his cock to stand free and hard, thanks to the stimulation of his bondage and the sight of myself and Brenda already tied.

"There's no need for a card to select our last subject, is there, Tina?" said Master Paul. "But we still need to choose how she'll be bound, and we can use any of the 52 cards for that!" The card my Mistress drew showed a male slave suspended upside down from a bar behind his knees, with his arms stretched horizontally to each side, and soon Helen was bound exactly like that, her lovely naked body inverted and helplessly vulnerable.

It was this helplessness and utter vulnerability that my Mistress and Master Paul exploited for the better part of an hour. They emphasised it especially to Brenda and Dan, as they ran their hands all over the nakedness of all four of us, tickling, pinching, slapping our flesh and fondling our most intimate parts in the possessive way that Helen and I were well used to... and Brenda and Dan must be rapidly getting used to! With the sheath still encasing my cock, I escaped the most intimate of the handling; but the other touches on my body, added to the erotic sights of my fellow-captives being handled, had the almost inevitable effect of giving me an enormous hard-on, which was not a little uncomfortable inside the tight sheath!

Finally our 'tormentors' desisted and, after a whispered discussion with Master Paul, my Mistress announced: "Now, slaves, we feel like giving you some discipline; not because you've misbehaved, or for any other reason except that you're slaves and it amuses us to do this. We'll do the same as before, using this other deck of cards, which shows slaves being disciplined in various ways. Please choose the first card, Paul."

Master Paul did so, glanced at it and then showed it to each of us bound slaves. It was a Club, showing a male slave having a flat springy 'ruler' applied across his belly. Thus, Dan was to be disciplined first, and soon he was arched backwards over a bench and my Mistress was standing beside him with a 'ruler' in her hand.

Smiling down at him, she said, "Not only is this implement and its target chosen by the cards, but also how many strokes you'll get: in fact, you have the power to determine how many, by guessing which suit Master Paul will turn up next from the deck! I'll give you one stroke at a time, after which you'll make your guess and Master Paul will turn up a card; when you've guessed correctly three times, I'll stop.

"You probably can't appreciate the full implications immediately, so I'll point them out: obviously, you'll get a minimum of three strokes; beyond that, however, it's mathematically possible that you'll never guess three cards right! But that's very unlikely, and the odds have been worked out: you have a 95 percent chance of getting less than about 20 strokes, and if you're very unlucky, you may request a halt... on condition that we will resume some other time, perhaps on some other part of your body. OK then, here we go!"

I watched, along with Helen and Brenda, as the 'ruler' landed with loud smacks on the taut flesh of Dan's belly, followed by him guessing a suit and Master Paul turning up a card to show if the guess was correct or not. Our fascination, naturally, was closely related to our knowledge that soon we would be in a similar situation, hoping with the turn of each card that our guess would be right. As it happened, Dan's third correct guess came after the seventh stroke.

"You're a fairly lucky slave," grinned my Mistress as she put down the ruler'. "The odds here say that seven or less happens only about 18 percent of the time. Right, Paul, shuffle the cards for me to choose the next lucky player, and it's your turn to administer the strokes."

Helen was the next 'player', but 'lucky' didn't quite seem the right word: the chosen card showed a gorgeous black-haired slave-girl being lashed with a leather whip fully six feet long! The nervousness was plain in her eyes -- and more than a touch of fear! -- as she allowed herself to be bound in a taut standing spreadeagle, yet the deep trust she had in her Master was displayed by the fact that she uttered not a word of protest.

Her trust was rewarded when, after taking the big whip in his hand, Master Paul said, "Because this whip is much more severe than the last implement, you only have to guess correctly once, slave-girl: but otherwise, the conditions are the same as for slave Dan. Here comes your first stroke..."

Carefully, and by no means as forcefully as he might have, he placed the lash across Helen's naked back: she jerked and grunted, but didn't cry out, and her voice was quite steady when she made her first guess. It was wrong, as were the next two, but the fourth was right and she sighed audibly with relief: four strokes with that whip, I knew, were tolerable, but only a few more would have been difficult to endure.

The next card selected by Master Paul was a Diamond, nominating Brenda, and it showed a multi-thonged 'cat' of light leather strips being used on the buxom tits of a slave-girl, who looked very like Brenda herself. She was tied face-up on a bench, with her breasts raised into prominence by her arms tied wrist-to-elbow underneath her, and my Mistress took her turn with the chosen implement. Like Dan, Brenda had to make three correct guesses; unlike him, she managed this only after 23 strokes had criss-crossed her boobs with many thin red marks.

Finally it was my turn, and my Mistress drew a card depicting a slave's thighs being whipped with a small but still vicious-looking whip. For this, I was tied face-up on a bench with my ankles drawn up and apart until I was resting only on my shoulders: my wide-spread thighs framed Master Paul's face as he looked down and told me that my task was to guess correctly twice. I guess I wasn't too unlucky, but the twelve lashes that landed on the tender insides of my thighs weren't too pleasant, either!

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" said my Mistress and Master Paul cheerfully, as they untied us and allowed us a drink of water. At our rather non-commital replies, they just grinned and went on, "It was for us, anyway: and remember, the task of slaves is not to have fun yourselves, but to provide it for your owners, whether by being tightly bound... or whipped -- both of which you've just done -- or by other means, which you're about to do...

"Your next task is to give each other pleasure! But we expect you to remember that, while you may be enjoying it, its main purpose is to entertain us ! Also, slaves are rarely allowed to have pleasure without at least some discomfort: so, now that you've finished your refreshments, come over here!... lie down!..."

Shortly, we four slave were lying on our sides on little wheeled platforms, our wrists tied behind us and attached to one ankle in a sort of hogtie. Once more, cards were selected from the deck to determine the order for our placement in a small square, each with his or her head close the crotch of another: the result, as my Mistress put it with a chuckle, was that "... Brenda eats Helen eats Dan eats Peter eats Brenda!" The final touch was that our free legs were drawn upwards, parting our thighs and making what was between them easily accessible.

"This will be a little contest for you, slaves," we were told. "To encourage you to make our amusement last, the first of you to come will suffer the biggest penalty, and so on to the last, who'll get no penalty. When one of you comes, you'll be removed from the ring, until there's only one left -- a sort of 'musical mouths', you might say! So it's possible, if one of you is an extra good 'sucker', to get to eat everyone else: wouldn't that be fun?

"One final thing: Helen and Peter are much more used to this sort of thing than Brenda and Dan, so the latter will start first, a kind of handicap. Now, we trust your lips and teeth and tongues are ready and willing, because here we go!" The platforms we lay on were moved a bit closer together, bringing our heads between the thighs of the next slave, but my mouth was kept away from Brenda's pussy until several minutes after I felt my cock slip into the mouth at my crotch... Dan's mouth.

I knew, just as we slaves had been taught to think, that any slave's mouth -- be it male or female -- was as good as any other: but I was also aware that Dan had had virtually no experience at sucking a man's cock, and his first few tentative movements only confirmed this. I began to think that this -- in addition to the fact that my cock-sheath had only just been removed, and my cock itself had been stimulated less than Dan's or the girls' pussies -- might give me a good chance of winning this contest!

As it turned out, I did win -- but not for those reasons alone.

Helen came first... to my surprise, since I was only too aware of her skill with her tongue and lips and her ability to control her own arousal. (Later, she confessed that she was taken by surprise at Brenda's skill and, anyway, she herself was already so excited by the events of the day and the bondage, whipping and this bizarre arrengement this evening.) So she was moved away and the square became a triangle, with Brenda's mouth now on Dan's cock.

Dan was the next to come, perhaps due both to Brenda's skill and her familiarity with his reactions. He too was removed, and Brenda and I were moved into a classic 'sixty-nine' position. And now, in dramatic contrast to Dan's unfamiliarity with giving head to a male, I felt Brenda's skill for myself, as she tongued and nibbled cleverly on my cock and balls, and drew the former deep into her mouth.

By now, however, my own mouth had been working on Brenda's fragrant pussy, almost uninterrupted except for short breaks while Helen and Dan were removed. Circumstances -- and her skill! -- had allowed Brenda the 'privilege' of eating each of us other slaves, but in the end I think it was to my advantage to be able to concentrate on one target alone, a target that -- once I'd tried a few different techniques -- proved to be extremely responsive!

Still and all, my own arousal was well on its way towards the point of no return when I achieved my objective, and Brenda involuntarily shuddered and moaned as a climax swept through her. Immediately, her mouth was pulled away from my cock, but mine stayed buried in her pussy until her climax was spent.

We were released from our platforms, and now we saw Helen and Dan, obviously tied in preparation for the promised penlties: Helen was bent at the waist over a hip-high bar, with both arms tied behind her back, while Dan stood at right angles behind her and to one side, in a more upright position and with one arm free. Brenda was now tied similarly in relation to Dan, and I began to see the pattern that was emerging...

Finally, I was placed facing Helen; her bent-over position, not surprisingly, put her face at just the level of my crotch! My cock, which had had time to relax since Brenda was last tonguing it, started to harden again...

"Slave Peter will get a reward," said Master Paul as my Mistress adjusted the ropes to keep me in place. "The rest of you will get your penalties. We kept note of the time you each came, so your penalties will match those exactly: as for you, Peter, you're to try to last as long as you already have!" He handed Dan a paddle and went on, "Helen, start sucking Peter's cock! Dan, you start paddling Helen's bottom: not too hard, but enough to sting a bit!"

A little later, after checking his watch, he handed Brenda another paddle with the order to use it on Dan's bottom; later still, he gave me one to use on Brenda, with the words, "Good slave, you've reached the target we asked. Now the rest is a bonus: you may delay your climax as long as you like -- or can -- depending on how much pleasure you want and how much extra penalty you want for these other slaves!"

So far, I'd been concentrating hard on resisting the skilled attentions of Helen's mouth, to obey my instruction to hold off as long as I already had, and this offer to control my own pleasure caught me completely by surprise. It barely had time to register, and I only landed two paddle strokes on Brenda's bum, before the prospect of controlling the other slaves' penalty -- something I'd hardly ever done -- proved just too exciting. Helen's skill with her mouth had something to do with it too, I guess, and I came explosively, my cock spurting its fluid deep into her throat.

While untying us, my Mistress and Master Paul reinforced to Brenda and Dan the principle that had just been demonstrated: namely, that slaves having sexual pleasure was generally dependent on their owners wishing to be entertained, and was usually accompanied by at least some discomfort or pain. Brenda and Dan acknowledged this humbly and seriously -- but I think it was driven home even more effectively when they were returned to their cabin a few minutes later....

Using cuffs and chains padlocked to strategically placed rings, my Mistress and Master Paul shackled the two slaves for the night... and made it quite impossible for them to reach each other! "Last night," said my Mistress with a grin, "was your last chance to play with each other in private -- for the rest of the cruise, at least!" And she chuckled at their expressions of mingled dismay and resignation.

"But you shouldn't worry too much," added Master Paul, as he snapped the final padlock shut. "You'll get lots of attention from us, and any other passengers we loan you to: you'll certainly have plenty of opportunities to give pleasure with your lips and tongues, whether to passengers or their slaves, and of course you might get some, too, from other slaves: and once or twice, you might even get to screw with other slaves, though probably not with each other. But the variety will be fun, won't it?"

This last was a parting comment, given as he and my Mistress led me and Helen out of the cabin, and the door clicked shut before Brenda and Dan had a chance to reply.

After the fairly strenuous bondage, discipline and sexual excitement of the past few hours, I was quite ready to go to sleep when we reached our cabin. My Mistress, however, clearly in a state of some arousal resulting from the same events, wasn't about to let me off so lightly: very soon I was on my knees in front of her lovely nakedness, and my head was between her creamy thighs. Tired I may have been, but my eagerness to please her gave me new energy, and I helped her to four or five orgasms before we settled down to sleep.

Next morning it was Brenda's and Dan's turn to surprise my Mistress and Master Paul. When they responded to the latter's cheery "Good morning, slaves!", Dan asked for permission to say something -- which was granted.

"Brenda and I have talked quite a lot, last night and this morning," he said, "and we both think we're ready to be proper unaccompanied slaves."

"... if that's OK with you, Master and Mistress," added Brenda humbly.

My Mistress and Master Paul looked at each other for a moment before my Mistress said, "Are you sure? Remember, you'll be expected to submit to everything, including some things you haven't seen or tried yet, and your only way out will be to appeal to the Slavemaster for real mistreatment -- or to pull out of the slavery part of the cruise entirely, and pay the higher fare."

"Yes, we're sure, Mistress," replied Dan. "We've watched everything carefully, and we think we've seen enough to be sure that the officers and the passengers won't mistreat us. And we both feel it's even more exciting, not knowing exactly where the limits of our slavery will be!"

"It's OK by me, Tina," Master Paul said to my Mistress. "These slaves seem to know what they're asking for. You agree?" She nodded, and he went on to Brenda and Dan, "Your request is granted, slaves. We'll take it as a compliment to the introduction we've given you, that you're ready so soon."

"Oh yes, Master," said Brenda eagerly, "You've been great! And you too, Mistress Tina!"

"We know that," replied my Mistress drily, but her smile acknowledged the compliment. "Now, no more chattering while we get you organized!"

In moments, Brenda and Dan were gagged, their wrists were fastened together and clipped to the back of collars around their necks, and they were ordered to follow my Mistress and Master Paul to the Purser's office. There, the latter informed slave Nicole -- now, of course, naked like all the crew slaves, and wearing wrist and ankle shackles as she worked -- that they wished to see the Purser himself.

The Purser listened to what they had to say, and had Nicole fetch Brenda's and Dan's file: without removing their gags, he asked the latter for confirmation of their request and, at their firm nods, called on my Mistress and Master Paul to sign away their responsibility for the two 'first-time' slaves. Interestingly, he didn't ask Brenda and Dan themselves to sign anything, but instead had Nicole and Helen and me sign as witnesses to their agreement, and finally countersigned the forms himself.

He then called the officer in charge of unaccompanied slaves -- the "Slave-master" -- who sent a junior officer to fetch Brenda and Dan. While waiting, my Mistress and Master Paul each gave both Brenda and Dan a thorough fondle, and assured them that "... this isn't the last you'll see of us on this cruise, we promise! There'll be plenty of chances for us to 'claim' you for a few hours or a night, and we'll be interested to see how you adjust to being slaves."

Unable to reply, Brenda and Dan could only use their eyes to express their own feelings: as they were led away, it was impossible to mistake the glow of anticipation and sheer excitement on their faces -- with perhaps just the faintest trace of trepidation!

After our breakfast -- a rather late one! -- Master Paul took Helen away for more "... interviews and so on", and my Mistress decided it was time to join in some deck games. Once again, I found my cock and balls the target for the quoits she threw, as well as for the pellets from her air-pistol, as I hung by my ankles high above the wake behind the ship's stern.

During these games -- and between them -- she chatted with other Masters and Mistresses, and I was permitted to chat with my fellow-slaves, too. She had one chat alone with me, in a quiet corner of the deck, during which she quizzed me closely about the conversations I'd had with Brenda and Dan, at which she hadn't been present. Little did I guess the significance of this at the time, but it seemed she mainly wanted to be certain that I hadn't 'spilled the beans' about a part of our our previous cruise... that I can't, of course, mention here. I swore I hadn't said a word, and she believed me.

She also told me that she intended to make me write a full report of this cruise, as I'd done for the previous one: she'd already been keeping notes, of course, to help me remember the details, but she now impressed on me the need to memorize, as far as possible, everything that might happen when she wasn't actually with me. The result, naturally, is what you are reading now!

After lunch, she made me join the 'fitness and manners for slaves' classes again, while she went her own way on business I could only guess at. Brenda and Dan were in the classes too, of course, and I had an opportunity to chat to them both: I asked them to tell me what they'd discovered about 'unaccompanied' slavery, but they refused, saying that they'd been told not to, because it was intended to remain a mystery -- and hence a potential surprise -- to any slave who hadn't experienced it. I'd had this reaction before, but I thought I might glean some information from them, since they knew as well as I did, that my Mistress was highly unlikely to send me on a cruise without her: however, I could wheedle nothing out of them, and I had to respect them for this obedience to the instructions they'd been given.

When the classes ended, my Mistress was nowhere to be seen: but the officer who'd supervised the second class told me that I was wanted in a particular bondage room immediately. I obediently made my way there, gathering the usual few fondles from passing Masters or Mistresses, and found my Mistress waiting. For the better part of two hours, she put to the test my fitness and suppleness that the classes were supposed to improve, with a series of imaginative and often uncomfortable bondage positions -- yet which I, submissive slave that I am, found enjoyable and exciting.

She spoke little, and there was something ever so slightly strange in her manner -- an intensity, or rather a kind of amused detachment, in the way she tightened the ropes or straps on my limbs and body, then ran her fingernails slowly along my stretched tendons and taut flesh, as if she was admiring a work of art she'd created. I wondered at this, but only a little: I was too busy enjoying the wonderful sensations of being made utterly helpless, my naked body bent to her will and totally vulnerable to her whims. She hardly touched my cock or balls, but the former stayed almost fully hard with arousal the whole time -- and this seemed to amuse her even more!

Afterwards, there was only time for me to shower myself, bathe my Mistress and help her dress, then submit to my wrists being shackled behind me, before the dinner gong rang. To my disappointment, for the second of three evenings, neither Master Paul nor my beloved Helen were at our table: I looked around the room for them, but couldn't see them anywhere... until I suddenly realized that Master Paul was seated at the Captain's table!

I still couldn't see Helen, and wondered where she might be. Then I noticed that the Captain himself hadn't appeared yet: I remembered the incident on our previous cruise, when he'd made a deliberately late entrance with Nicole and me following in a bizarre procession, and I felt oddly certain that tonight it was to be Helen's turn.

Sure enough, a few minutes after the meal had got under way, there was a sudden announcement of "Ladies and gentlemen... the Captain!" In the expectant hush that followed, all eyes turned to a door at one side of the main table, from where he would make his entrance.

It wasn't the Captain, however, who entered first, but my beloved Helen! I recognized her, of course, because I was expecting this: but to many of the other watchers she would have been just another naked female slave. She looked magnificent: her voluptuous body was arched forward like a bow, her arms were held rigid behind her by straps at wrists and elbows, and most of her weight seemed to be well ahead of her shuffling feet. This was no illusion, I realized a moment later, because her wrists were fastened, and her ankles shackled by carefully adjusted chains, to a pole: one end of this was attached to the back of a very tight belt cinching her narrow waist, and the other was in the hands of the Captain himself.

The effect was dramatic, to say the least! Helen's large firm breasts, lifted and separated by her arm bondage, were thrust forward as if begging for attention: and, as if competing for that attention, the curly thatch of her pussy seemed almost to lead the way across the raised platform where the Captain's table stood. The final touch was the way a strap, from the heavy blindfold covering her eyes, was attached to her elbow bondage, drawing her head back to complete the arched effect. A ripple of applause swept across the audience.

The Captain acknowledged this, and carefully guided Helen to the centre of the platform and turned her to face his audience. Handing his end of the pole to a crew slave, he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, apologies for my unpunctuality. I have been interviewing this slave regarding duties she might perform, if she were to become a crew slave, and it occurred to me to demonstrate what one of them might be. She's very well suited to this sort of decorative duty, I'm sure you agree -- with these lovely firm tits and nice nipples... this hourglass figure... this pretty pussy...."

As he spoke, he ran his hands over each part of Helen's helpless nakedness as he mentioned it, but only briefly. Ending with an exhortation to "Enjoy your dinner, ladies and gentlemen!", he took his seat -- beside Master Paul -- and settled down to enjoy his own. Helen was left in the charge of the crew slave.

There could be no doubt that, despite her blindfold, she knew exactly where she was and the spectacle she presented: but, if she was ashamed by the blatant display of her nakedness, she gave no sign of it at all. She seemed to submit willingly -- although she had little enough choice, anyway -- to being posed at the side of the platform, where those at the Captain's table could feast their eyes on her as well; sometimes she was brought closer to the officers and passengers seated there, to be fondled briefly but intimately. The extreme arch of her body was relaxed slightly, to make things easier for her, and she was also given her dinner -- morsels of food dropped into her upturned mouth by the slave who was tending her, on the orders of the Captain and his table guests.

I found it extremely difficult to keep my eyes off her, and the sight of her lovely naked body, put on such erotic display by her bondage, inevitably caused my cock to stay almost fully erect for the whole meal. Other male slaves, I could see, were reacting similarly and, from the looks in their eyes, more than a few Masters' pricks were also swelling in their trousers! Naturally, my Mistress noticed my reaction, and she smiled at me indulgently and gave my cock a few brief fondles in between eating her dinner and feeding me mine.

At the end of the meal an announcement was made, that the ship would soon be making its first island stop, and asking the disembarking passengers to be ready when called. As we left the dining room, my Mistress said to me, "Remember on our first cruise, what we did before getting off at this island? I feel like doing something similar, for old times' sake."

I found myself getting intensely excited as we returned to our cabin -- was she planning to re-enact all the circumstances of that disembarkation? -- and I submitted willingly to wearing the gag with its attached dildo. Kneeling between her thighs, the dildo deep inside her cunt and my nose on her clit, I cast my mind back to that evening: I can't, of course, tell my readers what they were, but these memories inspired me to extra enthusiasm in my task of pleasuring my Mistress.

She seemed to respond more quickly than last time, too, and reached two orgasms -- obviously very pleasant ones! -- before we felt the ship come to a stop with a bump against a wharf, and the bell rang for disembarkation. Just as she'd done the previous time, my Mistress detached herself from the dildo and got dressed, then returned to remove the dildo from my gag: unilke last time, though, she didn't blindfold me.

"It won't be so easy to surprise you this time, will it?" she said with a smile. "You might even enjoy watching other slaves who are visiting the island for the first time, but we'll leave your gag in so that you won't even be tempted to 'spill the beans' to them, eh? Come along, now." Opening the door to admit a crew slave, who obediently picked up her luggage, she led us to the gangway.

There we were met by a lady officer, leading another male slave, who was gagged and whose wrists were shackled exactly as mine were. I recognized Dan, and I guessed that some Mistress was taking him on her island visit -- or perhaps, I thought, my Mistress is taking us both? But I never suspected the truth, that her brief conversation with the officer revealed...."

"Here's the unaccompanied slave, Madam," said the latter, "that you asked for to take on your island visit."

"Thank you," replied my Mistress. "And here's my slave, to take his place while I'm gone." She spoke casually, as if there was nothing at all unusual about this, but she noticed the startlement in my eyes and went on with a smile that oozed self-satisfied amusement, "See, slave, I can still spring surprises on you, can't I?"

I stared at her, unable to make any protest at all, as she continued in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'm sure you'll have great fun for a few days, as an unaccompanied slave for a change, and I expect you to behave yourself. Meanwhile, slave Dan here will be enjoying what you enjoyed on the island last time: you can't begrudge him that, surely? If you speak to Brenda while we're gone, you have permission to tell her where Dan has gone, but I order you to leave it at that: she may have the chance to experience this on a future cruise, and we don't want to deprive her of the fun of any surprises, do we?"

Helplessly, I resigned myself to her plans for me. Naturally, I was disappointed at not accompanying her to the island, but I suddenly recognized this as yet another consequence of my relatively new status as her full-time and unconditional slave: she could discard me at any time, and leave me in the care of -- and for the enjoyment of! -- the other passengers, while herself enjoying the variety of another slave for a few days. This realization appealed to my intensely submissive nature, and I found myself starting to look forward to the next few days!

With a kiss on my nose, and a quick but thorough fondle of my cock and balls, my Mistress left me with the officer: attaching a ring and leash to Dan's cock, she led him down the gangway.

The lady officer led me away, into what were obviously the crew sections of the ship, areas I'd never been in before. At last, deep inside the hull and far from the light and air of the upper decks, we reached a heavy barred door with a strong lock.

At her request, an officer on duty there opened the door and she led me inside, saying, "These are the unaccompanied slaves' quarters, where you'll spend all your spare time now, until your Mistress returns from the island and exchanges you again for the slave she took with her. There are a few special rules that apply here, but I won't bother to explain them: I know the slaves in the neighbouring cells will be only too happy to tell you!"

We entered a long narrow room, with a corridor between two rows of what could only be described as cells, almost cages, three sides of each being entirely bars. One row contained male slaves, the other female: obviously, this was intended to eliminate any opportunity for the slaves to have sex through the bars of adjoining cells. By now I recognized most of them, as we walked between them to an unoccupied cell: I saw Brenda in one, and she smiled at me, but I couldn't smile back, of course.

My escorting officer opened the door of a free cell and motioned me inside with a peremptory gesture, then locked the door again before reaching through the bars to unshackle my wrists and remove my gag. Curtly ordering the slaves in the nearby cells to fill me in on the special rules, she left without a further glance at me.

I looked around at my new environment, and chatted with my neighbours. As expected, they explained the special rules applying here: the most important was a strict prohibition on any kind of sexual activity whatsoever, whether between slaves or by self-arousal. This rule was policed by officers frequently patrolling along passages behind the cells and checking through one-way windows in the back walls: what was more, a slave breaking the rule was not stopped immediately, but the incident was noted and punishment meted out the next day, its severity increasing sharply if the forbidden activity had continued across more than one patrol interval! The same passages, I also learned, were our access to toilet facilities: we simply pulled a lever to raise a flag in the passage, and waited for the next passing officer to open a hatch and escort us.

During this chat, a message was passed along the cells to me from Brenda, asking if I knew where Dan had gone: I sent back the reply that my Mistress had given me permission for. (When we had a chance to chat directly, a day or so later, she told me that she was disappointed at not also visiting the island, but her neighbours had impressed on her that such quirks of fate were the inevitable consequence of unaccompanied slavery.)

Not very long after I'd been brought here, several more slaves were led in and locked into empty cells. None of them were familiar to me, but one female was put into the cell opposite mine: in the course of her conversation with me and her other neighbours, I learned that she and the others had just rejoined the ship after a few days on the island. Fascinated, and a little envious, I listened to her relate a few of her experiences, some of them essentially similar to mine on our previous cruise.

Later, we felt the ship start to move again, as it left to continue the cruise on the open sea. During the following hour or so, a number of Masters and Mistresses -- some of whom I knew -- were escorted between the cells by the officer on duty. Now, another special rule came into force: a cry of "Slaves, front up!", just before the main door opened, was a signal for us all to stand at the front of our cells, our arms and legs spread, and press our naked bodies against the bars. This enabled the Master or Mistress to walk down the corridor, looking closely at any slave that interested them, fondling any part of the slave's anatomy they wished, reading the information summarized on a card hanging outside the cell, sometimes ordering the slave to turn around or pose in various ways, before making their choice to 'claim' for a few hours or the night or whatever. The chosen slave was always handcuffed before the cell door was unlocked, and he or she was led away by a temporary 'owner': only when they had left did the command "Slaves, as you were!" allow us to break our pose.

Suddenly, with no warning at all, the lights were turned down to a dim glow, the signal that it was time for sleep. Equally sudden was the silence that fell over us slaves, because another rule forbade any "talking after lights out": feeling a little like a child at boarding school, I settled down on the hard pallet provided. I heard a few soft whispers between some of my fellow-slaves, but they were effectively drowned by the rhythmic throb of the ship's engines -- which also helped a lot to put me to sleep.

Over the next six days before my Mistress returned from her island visit, I spent more time in these 'unaccompanied slave quarters' than in any other single place -- by no means, however, was I stuck there most of the time, nor were those days a long and boring period of inactivity.

Generally, we 'unaccompanied slaves' were treated as little more than a 'pool' of naked bodies, to be called on whenever one or more were needed, whether for some group activity organized by the Entertainment Officer, or for the private amusement of a passenger who had no slave of his or her own. We 'lived' in the quarters assigned to us, with an Officer and two or three crew slaves assigned full-time to keeping track of us and making sure we didn't misbehave.

Not that we were cooped up in our cells all the time we weren't 'needed': there were periods set aside, when no requests for spare slaves were accepted and those of us who were left were involved in activities as a group. Like the exercise sessions, for instance, that continued the day after my Mistress left with Dan: the session that day was longer and more strenuous than the previous two days, because most of us were getting fitter; and, since my full-time slavery had already got me quite fit and supple, I was singled out and used as an example to the others... which gave me a boost of inordinate pride!

Obviously, we were the first candidates -- after the slaves put forward by their accompanying owners -- for the deck games, and I doubt if any one of us escaped acting as a target for quoits or the unique 'slave target practice' game. On the other hand, there were enough of us that we would have been unlucky to have been chosen often: the Officer and crew slaves in charge of us didn't appear to take much care in distributing our duites evenly, but I suspect they managed it somehow.

I soon discovered that there was a rule associated with the use of us unaccompanied slaves': namely that, during the day, we could only be 'claimed' by a passenger or off-duty Officer for a limited period of about two hours at a time. This was intended to allow the passengers -- and, indirectly, those of us who were here really unaccompanied -- as much variety as possible: most of the passengers made good use of this rule, and we slaves also enjoyed its benefits!

At night, on the other hand, slaves could be 'claimed' until the next morning. This 'overnight' rule came into effect immediately after dinner... with the result that the hour or so after the passengers had dined was very busy indeed for us slaves, 'fronting up' to the bars of our cells repeatedly as Masters and Mistresses made their choices of slaves with whom to spend the night! But there were also other ways in which we could be chosen....

For example, the very next evening I had the 'privilege' of being included in the day's Slave Raffle. Having watched one of these -- but only once when, on our previous cruise, Master Paul had put Helen in it -- I recognized what was happening: I and several other unaccompanied slaves, plus a few more who had been 'donated' by their owners for the event, were each attached to one of a number of long cords, which passed through a box and emerged the other side in jumbled order.

In turn, the Masters and Mistresses who had 'tickets' inspected the row of 'prize slaves' carefully before making their selection from the other ends of the cords. Not that this inspection really helped them choose -- neither they nor we slaves had any idea which cord led to which slave, except that the ends were coloured differently for male and female slaves, for the benefit of those who preferred one or the other. The whole point of the inspection, I realized as I stood waiting, was to heighten the suspense -- especially for us slaves! -- and to allow both owners and slaves to decide which of the other they hoped to spend the night with... a hope more often denied, due to the odds, than fulfilled.

When all the 'ticket-holders' had chosen, the officer conducting the raffle lifted the lid off the box and told them to pull slowly on their cords until they stretched in a straight line between each holder and a 'prize'. I found myself torn between watching 'my' cord unravel from the others, and looking at a very attractive Mistress who'd shown more than a little interest in me before she made her choice of cord. I was to be disappointed, however: the cord attached to the clamps on my nipples finally straightened, and I saw its other end in the hands of a middle-aged couple.

They and I looked at each other, while the 'presiding' officer told us slaves that we did have the right not to go with whomever had 'won' us -- on pain of spending the night in solitary confinement and quite severe bondage. I couldn't recall seeing them before, and I guessed they must have rejoined the cruise from the island the previous evening. Despite having no idea what kind of Master and Mistress they might be, I didn't for a moment consider refusing: I signalled my acquiescence with a nod and a smile, and they smiled in return.

The raffle winners now moved in to claim their 'prizes' and, almost before I realized what was happening, the couple had shackled me with remarkable efficiency -- and with a good deal more effectiveness than necessary! After all, a naked slave like myself had precious little hope of 'escaping' at all on board this ship, so the heavy metal ankle cuffs and hobble-chain, the tight metal belt and cuffs holding my wrists to it, were somewhat redundant. On the other hand, I was only too aware of the symbolic nature of shackles like these, and my submissive nature began to respond as I shuffled awkwardly behind them on the way to their cabin.

They didn't introduce themselves by name, but simply told me to think of them as 'Sir' and 'Lady': nor did they give any sign of interest in my name -- just a curt 'Slave!' was enough for them to have my attention. In fact, they hardly spoke at all, as they fastened a large tray to the belt I wore, supporting its outer corners with chains attached by spring clamps to my nipples. Then they told me they hadn't had dinner yet, and ordered me to the kitchens to fetch the order they had placed.

Their cabin was not very far from the kitchens, and I reached them without any casual fondling from passing owners or officers. But the crew slaves in the kitchens, and their supervising officers, took every opportunity to handle my defenceless -- and, to me, invisible! -- cock and balls, as they loaded my tray with covered plates and dishes. Their weight soon began to pull painfully on my nipples, and I was even more grateful for the shortness of the return journey to Sir's and Lady's cabin!

Sir now helped me to get down on my knees -- not so much out of concern for me, I suspect, than to stop anything spilling! -- and then fixed a short chain between my ankles and my belt, to prevent me even trying to rise, while Lady fastened the outer side of the tray to a low table in front of me. To my relief, she then detached the chains from the tray, but the relief was less than total, because she left the clamps still squeezing my nipples, and re-attached one chain to each of my wrists, which Sir had released from the belt. Finally, they drew up comfortable chairs on each side of me, sat down and said, "Now you may serve us our dinner, slave."

Very neatly, they had placed their chairs in such a way that almost every movement I made to pass food to them caused the chains from my wrists to tug on my clamped nipples -- particularly since they insisted on my actually putting forksful of food in their mouths and holding glasses of wine to their lips! I was kept pretty busy, yet I found the experience enjoyable and even exciting, thanks especially to their casual conversation throughout the meal.

I gathered that they were in fact permanent residents of the island that my Mistress was visiting at that very moment, and that they were on board to pay a short visit to the mainland. In some way, it seemed to me as I listened, they were even enjoying a break from the slaves they'd left behind: that they really meant 'slaves' -- in the plural! -- was quite clear, but I never discovered just how many! Nor did they leave me entirely out of the conversation, occasionally asking me to tell them, in explicit detail, some of the events of my slavery.

When thay'd had enough to eat, they removed the cuffs and chain from my ankles and the belt from my waist. Then, settling back in their chairs, they ordered me to my feet, to provide a little "after-dinner entertainment". With more than a touch of embarrassment -- after all, my naked body, although slim and reasonably fit, is hardly that of a dancer or athlete! -- I obliged, obeying their orders on how to pose, et cetera.

Soon I realized that their "entertainment" was derived less from my appearance , than from what they were telling me to do -- such as caressing myself in all sorts of distinctly humiliating ways, and inflicting a little pain on myself, with pinches and slaps and especially by tugging on the chains, still attached to my nipple clamps! The humiliation reached its peak (aided by a good dose of both pain and sexual stimulation) in their order for me to masturbate for them: my cock, though untouched and out of sight during their dinner, was already semi-erect and responded quickly. As well as telling me to stroke it to full purple hardness, tugging on my nipple-clamps as I did so, they also told me to slap it forcefully back and forth and up and down, and to flick its sensitive tip sharply with my fingernail. But I was strictly forbidden to actually make myself come and, with some will-power and not a little pride, I managed this.

Sir and Lady watched my 'performance' with hardly any sign of emotion, apart from slight smiles of amusement at my antics. Between orders to me, they passed casual, explicit and sometimes even crude comments on my naked body and what I was doing with it. I began to wonder whether this was all there was to their idea of slavery, but by now I was conditioned enough to know that it wasn't a slave's place to question the particular likes of the owners, and I didn't let my speculations affect my obedience.

The final -- and most painful -- part of my performance came when I was told to stand still facing Sir and Lady, arch my head and shoulders back as far as I could, and then slowly reach my arms up and out until the clamps were pulled off my nipples. Literally gritting my teeth, I managed to obey: they were strong clamps, and the pain as they slipped off was really quite intense. My eyes closed, and a loud and involuntary gasp escaped my lips.

"That was great fun, wasn't it?" I heard Sir say to his companion. "Shall we go on the next stage?" Almost before I had time to wonder what this 'next stage' might be, I realized that they'd both stood up, come beside me and, each with one hand holding one of my wrist chains and with the finger and thumb of the other hand gripping one of my tender nipples, were leading me into the bedroom of their suite. My awareness was so centred on the sensations in my nipples that I hardly noticed myself being made to stand on the bed with my back to a padded bar suspended horizontally from the ceiling.

Quickly and expertly, they passed my arms over the bar and brought my wrists down to my sides, fastening them there by stretching the chains across my belly and attaching them to the other cuff. By now I was more aware of what was happening, and I could appreciate how precisely the length of the chains matched this particular form of bondage: but I still had to wonder about its actual purpose. Nor did Sir's next words to me resolve my confusion....

"Lady and I like to have a slave's naked body available when we screw," he said. "It adds a certain spice to our foreplay! But you're not one of 'our' slaves, and so we feel it wouldn't be proper for you to watch us in such an intimate activity." He fitted a thick and heavy blindfold over my eyes, then went on, "Nor do we want to be distracted by any comments or complaints you might want to make, so..." And my mouth was filled by a large ball-gag, stretching my jaws apart until they felt about to crack.

He'd explained about the blindfold and gag, I thought, but not why I was standing on the bed, instead of beside it! Suddenly and dramatically, all became clear: two hands grasped each of my ankles, yanked my legs from under me and drew them back and up, then stretched them very widely apart before fastening them into cuffs that I hadn't even seen when we came in. Now I saw -- or rather, I should say, I was only too aware! -- of the point of this bondage: I was suspended almost horizontally, high enough above the bed for Sir and Lady to lie down underneath me, but also low enough that my naked body was well within reach for their fondles.

And fondles I got, believe me! I was very glad that the bar supporting most of my weight was well padded, because it must have been at least two hours that I hung there, and hardly a minute would have passed without some part of my naked and oh-so-available body being touched in some way or other. It was fondled, prodded, slapped, tickled, once or twice gently kicked, and sometimes even struck with what felt like a small whip. This latter stung a bit, but was hardly painful, especially in comparison with the firm massaging of my nipples, still sore and ultra-sensitive after the clamps' squeezing.

Obviously, I had no idea at all where I would next be touched, or what kind of touch it would be, whether to caress or arouse... or torment! Enough of the touches, however, were of the first two kinds, that my cock stayed hard most of the time, dangling heavily under my suspended body. Nor was it only these touches that excited me: they were very effectively augmented by the very sensation of my utter helplessness, as well as by the constant stimulation that came through my ears and sparked my imagination of what was happening below!

The sounds were easily recognizable: kissing and sucking at first, and the soft hiss of hands moving over smooth skin, and later I could distinctly hear the sound of a cock thrusting in and out of a moist cunt. In addition, there were the murmurs of pleasure, the small moans of enjoyment, and the actual words, explicit and erotic, that lovers say to each other when they are screwing with unashamed enthusiasm. Never once was a single word spoken to me, and it was clear what this meant: I was merely a toy for use in their foreplay -- a sex aid with a difference! -- and even this knowledge appealed to my nature to keep me excited.

Eventually, after Lady's fourth orgasm -- if the soft but intense series of breathless screams were what I thought they were! -- Sir began to grunt in a steady and slowly quickening rhythm. That he was thrusting inside Lady in time with this rhythm, I was certain, because some part of him (perhaps his back) was brushing my dangling cock exactly in time with the grunts. I was also strangely sure that this touch was deliberate: perhaps it added to his pleasure, perhaps it was merely intended to keep me 'in touch' with what was going on, but in any case I found it intensely exciting... so much so that, when he climaxed with an almost deafening howl of pleasure, I very nearly came in sympathy'!

A long period -- maybe ten or fiteen minutes, but it seemed longer -- passed, with hardly any movement or sound, except for deep, steady breathing and some very satisfied-sounding sighs. I had no choice but to wait, in increasing discomfort and longing to be freed: some bondage, such as I was in now, is only tolerable for any length of time if it is balanced by stimulation of some kind or other, to keep one's mind off the aches in joints and muscles. Finally, however, I heard the sounds of Sir and Lady getting off the bed, followed by some more noises that I couldn't identify.

Suddenly, with no warning at all, I heard the swish of a cane in the air, just an instant before I felt it land along the full length of the inside of one of my wide-spread thighs. The sheer shock completely drowned out any pain, but the second blow on the other thigh, landing only a second or so later, seemed to be all pain. My howl of anguish, as I imagined two red-hot pokers laid along each thigh, was very loud in my ears, but I knew that only a muffled squeal would have escaped the gag.

I started to wonder, in real fear now, whether this couple, as well as liking to fondle a slave in their foreplay, might also enjoy giving the same slave a severe whipping -- as afterplay! Yet I was only too aware that I was completely helpless, and utterly at their mercy: no amount of struggling, however desperate, could possibly extricate me from the expertly applied bondage that I'd submitted to. Perhaps they were even sadistic enough to enjoy watching me kick and writhe hopelessly while they whipped my skin raw!

To my enormous relief, my worst fears were unfounded. After just those two blows, my ankles were released and my legs brought down to the bed for me to stand: but they wanted to buckle, and strong hands had to hold me up while the bar was slipped from under my elbows, allowing my numbed arms to drop to my sides. Then I was laid gently on the bed, and two pairs of hands solicitously massaged the stiff muscles of my legs and arms, and even spread soothing cream on the tender weals on my thighs.

My gag and blindfold weren't removed, however: and, before movement was fully restored to my arms, the cuffs and chains were replaced by a rope tying my wrists comfortably but securely behind my back. I was still blind and mute when I was led to the door and handed over to a crew slave sent to take me back to my cell in the unaccompanied slaves' quarters.

The lights were out and everything was quiet, when I was finally locked into my cell. I settled down on my hard pallet, and my last thought before sleep overtook me, was concerned with whether a night 'in solitary' and in bondage might not have been better than what I'd just been through.

Several days later, I had the opportunity to make this comparison. I'd just spent the previous two nights without very much sleep at all -- the precise circumstances will be revealed in later chapters of my tale! -- and I felt a real need to get a good night's sleep. The rules associated with unaccompanied slavery, I'd been told, included a provision for exemption from the normal requirement that slaves should always be available for claiming by owners: but I also knew that a request for such exemption was rarely granted.

I decided, however, that I had nothing to lose by making the request. As we slaves were being led back into the quarters for our evening meal, I asked for permission to speak to the officer in charge. This was granted, and I was shown into the office, where a lady officer was waiting.

Before asking me what I wanted, she turned on a tape-recorder (this was normal, when officers spoke with slaves in their official capacities, to protect both parties against later claims of mistreatment or disobedience) and ordered me to stand rigidly at attention. Then she told me to identify myself and make my request: I did so, stating my request simply and humbly.

"You slaves!" was her first reaction, "you think you can get away with anything!" Her tone was harsh and more than a little sarcastic, but her eyes had a twinkle of enjoyment in them: she knew, as I did, that part of the 'game' of slavery -- for both 'sides' -- lay in slaves making such requests, sometimes even with abject begging or attempts at bargaining. "OK, slave ," she went on, the emphasis intended to remind me of my lowly status, "I'll consider it. Give me your reasons, as simply as you can, but don't leave out any significant detail, no matter how personal or private!"

"One reason, ma'am," I replied formally. "I have had very little sleep for the past two nights. First, on the last island we visited, I had to spend the night with a Mistress..." I gave a brief outline of some events, which I shall relate in another chapter: but the officer drew more details from me, and I realized that these would enable her to check my story, if necessary. As it turned out, it seemed to satisfy her.

"Yes," she grinned, "that lady does keep her slaves pretty busy, doesn't she? My own slave went on a visit to that island once, and came back quite exhausted after her little orgy: what he told me seems to fit with your story. But that was two nights ago... what demands were made on you last night, that stopped you sleeping?"

I told her, and her mood changed abruptly. "You mean to say," she snapped testily, "that you have the cheek to request exemption, on the flimsy grounds that you were too busy cuddling your slave girl-friend, to get even a half-decent night's sleep last night? That sounds like sheer impertinence to me, and you may be sorry for it! It's one thing claiming that a Mistress has made good use of you for a night -- that's what you slaves are for, after all! -- but the second part of your excuse is quite another!"

She paused, looking at me almost expectantly. I guessed she was waiting for me to start begging, or to try to bargain with offers of willingness to be whipped, or even suddenly to confess that I'd been trying to con her: from the stories I'd heard, all these 'ploys' and other like them were used. I was also aware that, nine times out of ten, it was the slave who came off second-best, with the request refused and , quite often, a penalty for impertinence as well! That, too, was part of the 'game', and was accepted by those of us who enjoyed being slaves.) I was serious about my request, whatever its chances of success, and I chose to observe the rule about not speaking until directly told to.

"I should dismiss your request out-of-hand," she said at last, "but I'll at least check out your story. Who is this slave-girl, anyway, that could keep you awake after such a long hard night with the Mistress on the island?"

"She's an old friend, ma'am," I replied, "from a previous cruise. We care a lot for each other, and we haven't had much time together this time, because she's being assessed for crew slavery..."

"Oh, that one?" interrupted the officer. "Helen, isn't it? Now I know why you looked familiar: I'm on her assessment committee, and earlier today I looked at... yes, you know what I mean, don't you?"

My blush gave me away: I knew only too well what she meant, but you, dear reader, will have to wait until a later chapter for the details! Suffice it to say that the officer checked my story, with an owner who knew precisely where I'd been last night, and with the Purser's office for confirmation that I had in fact been on the island as I'd claimed. Finally she turned back to me.

"I still think you've got a lot of cheek," she said sternly, "making your request under these circumstances. However, I must be feeling in a kind mood tonight, because I'm going to grant it... but on two conditions: the first is that you'll spend the night in the 'brig'. You would almost certainly be doing that anyway, even if your reasons were more persuasive, because it's the normal disincentive for slaves wanting to make this request: but tonight, I promise you, your stay there will be less comfortable than 'normal'!

"The second condition is that, when I come off-duty tomorrow morning, I'll have you brought to me from the brig, and we'll spend a little time in a bondage room, experimenting with one of the things I saw you doing last night.

"I'm offering you a choice, you understand? Either accept my conditions, or go back to your cell and take your chances on being claimed for another busy night. It's not much of a choice, I know, because if you take the latter and end up not being claimed, I'll probably clap you in the brig, anyway, for making a frivolous request: as for tomorrow morning, you must be aware that I have every right to take you off to a bondage room and do with you what I please.

"After all," she went on with a broad grin, "you are a slave and, by definition, slaves don't get choices, so you should consider yourself lucky. The only reason I'm giving you this choice is that I'm hoping you might feel you owe me a small favour, which might inspire you to try hard to put up with what may be some pretty strenuous bondage experiments tomorrow morning. Well, what do you say, slave? I want your answer NOW!"

It seemed I didn't have a lot to lose, by accepting her conditions -- even if I was also gaining little! Besides, the prospect of a session of bondage 'experiments' with this particular officer was as attractive as she was herself: a very sexy woman of just under average size, with a figure that was shapely without being voluptuous, and a mass of brunette curls framing a face that had just the right mixture of soft femininity and strong dominance. These thoughts passed through my mind in much less time than it takes to read them, and my answer was suitably prompt.

"Thank you, ma'am, for considering my request," I said humbly. "I'm very willing to accept your conditions."

"Don't mention it," she replied in a tone of mock generosity. She pressed a button, causing a bell to ring outside her office, then went on in almost rueful tones: "Now that you have mentioned it, and made your choice in just those words, I'm beginning to regret the whole thing. Here I am, bargaining with a slave over something that should have been a simple 'Don't waste my time!' I hope no other officers listen to this tape, or they'll think I've gone soft!"

One of her crew slave assistants entered, obviously in answer to her summons. "I'm excusing this slave from normal duty tonight," she told him. "Put him in the brig, with level three restraints." She turned off the tape recorder, as if to end a formal interview: then, as the other slave was leading me out, she added, "Sleep well, slave. See you in the morning!" And there was a look in her eye that suggested she was looking forward to it!

I did sleep, surprising well in fact, despite the less-than-comfortable circumstances of the 'brig' -- a small, sound-proofed, pitch-dark cell -- and the 'level three' restraints -- face down in a hogtie, not severely tight but prevented from rolling onto my sides by the cord between my ankles and wrists being looped over a bar. Sleep came quickly, too, thanks to the potion that the crew slave made me drink first, but not before my imagination had a chance to run free with ideas of what might happen in the morning: experience had taught me that bondage sessions often included the bound slave being forced to give oral pleasure to his tormentor... not that I would need much 'forcing', with that particular officer!

The sound of the heavy bolts of the brig's door being drawn woke me, but it was still pitch dark, and I assumed that my incarceration had been cut short for some reason. As I was released and helped to my feet, however, I realized that the stiffness in my muscles was evidence of a much longer period! The crew slave who released me said nothing, but simply helped me regain the minimum use of my limbs, then led me up on deck, where I saw that it was very early morning, just after dawn.

The officer was waiting, and she made me join in her 'constitutional' -- a series of brisk sprints around the decks, interspersed with stretching and deep breathing exercises. Once this had eased my stiffness, I started to enjoy a wonderful feeling in the fresh morning air, and watched the daylight growing over a glorious sea view. A different kind of 'view', but equally pleasant, was my companion, her lithe shapely body clearly outlined by the snugly fitting leotard she wore!

Our last sprint ended beside the swimming pool, and by now my naked body was filmed with sweat, despite the cool morning air. The officer made use of the showering facilities there, first by fastening my wrists above my head in one of the open 'slave stalls' and directing stinging jets of cold water, then hot, into every crevice of my body. Releasing me, she told me to rub myself dry with a thick rough towel, then to come and help her shower.

By the time I followed her into one of the luxurious booths provided for Masters, Mistresses and officers, she had already stripped and was enjoying the gentle caress of hot water from hundreds of fine nozzles on three sides. With a few curt words, she made me lather her back and arms with a rich creamy soap, then drop to my knees to do the same with her legs. She washed the front of her body herself, and I knew I was expected to keep my eyes humbly downcast, so I hardly caught even a glimpse of the delights that it offered!

After her shower, I did get some idea of them -- by touch only, and through a very thick soft towel at that, as I gently patted her dry with my gaze studiously averted. Telling me to turn my back while she dressed, she then came up behind me, took my wrists and quickly tied them together with cord, before moving to come face-to-face with me again.

She was still wearing what might be called a leotard, but this one was even more figure-hugging than the other, if that was possible. Coloured a deep royal blue, it was certainly more revealing in other ways: cut very high over her hips, and with a neckline that plunged below her breastbone, its lines seemed to accentuate precisely those parts of her that she hadn't let me see. Inevitably, my cock reacted to the sight in its natural way!

With a lovely smile that I took as an acknowledgement of the implied compliment, she reached down to give it a fondle. Or so I thought: I may have been right about the smile, but her hand just barely brushed my cock as she reached right between my legs for what I realized was the cord tied to my wrists. Giving it a sharp tug down and forwards, to ensure it was well lodged between my buttocks, she then surprised me by skillfully making two loops with it and slipping them over my cock, one behind my balls and the other just behind its head -- and she did this without seeming to touch me at all!

"Time for our little bondage experiment, slave!" she announced with another bright smile, matching a sparkle of anticipation in her eyes. Turning, she tugged firmly on the cord -- causing no little discomfort, as the simple loops tended to pinch quite sharply! I followed obediently: and my obedience was less in the fact that I followed (I could do little else, after all!), than in the way I hung back to ensure there was always just a little strain on my leash, as I knew was expected.

Our walk to the bondage room she had selected -- the same one I'd spent some time in, the evening before last, with Helen (as you will read in a chapter to come!) -- was hardly unpleasant. I couldn't tear my gaze from the sexy sway of the officer's hips, from the way her leotard left a great deal of her buttocks exposed -- buttocks as firm and trim as they were generously rounded -- or from the perfectly muscled lines of her thighs and calves. My cock swelled even more within its loops of cord, but I didn't mind the discomfort one bit!

I won't go into details of the 'bondage experiment' she referred to, except to mention that it involved the constant use of spring-loaded clamps on both my nipples and my cock, as well as cords tied around my scrotum behind each of my balls -- now the reader will have no difficulty recognizing it when the evening with Helen is described in a later chapter. It consisted of a number of subtle variations on the one position, some of them relatively comfortable, some very severe and only just tolerable. As my tormentor had hoped, I did feel I owed her something, and I did my very best to co-operate in adopting and holding even the most severe positions: and, no doubt, the stretching exercises she'd made me do, assisted me in this. She also asked me how each position felt, and how long I thought I could hold it: I answered as honestly as I could.

By the end of the two hours or so we spent there, my nipples and cock and balls were starting to feel as if they'd been stretched by inches! Yet the clamps were never actually pulled off, the way they had been with Helen: instead, the officer removed them after each 'experiment', but she always took pleasure in kneading my nipples firmly for a few moments each time. The repeated application of the clamps, followed quite shortly by their removal and rolling in her fingers, left my nipples only a little sore, but very sensitive indeed!

Eventually the officer told me the 'experiments' were over, but there was one last thing she wanted me to do. As I lay face up in a loose spreadeagle, she knelt over my chest with her back to my face and said, "I like having the cheeks of my bottom licked, slave. Do it slowly and gently, all over the parts that aren't covered by my leotard." I obeyed willingly, enjoying the sense of humiliation as well as the taste and feel of her smooth flesh on my tongue.

Later, she also told me to run my tongue under the elastic edges of her leotard, and to push my nose deeply into the cleft between her buttocks until it pressed right on the sensitive nerves around her anus. But she didn't remove her leotard, nor did my tongue get closer to her pussy than when it explored the edges of her leotard just beside its lips. I don't think she had a climax, either, but there was no doubt she was enjoying herself!

Nor were her hands idle all this time: she ran her fingernails up and down the skin of my belly, sides and thighs, not gently but very erotically. My cock, at least partly erect during the whole of her 'experiments', responded in its inevitable way, but at first she ignored it. Later, however, she gave it some attention, but not with the sort of fondling we slaves were so accustomed to: instead, she slapped it vigorously back and forth between her palms, and flicked her fingernails sharply and quite painfully on its sensitive head. She also handled my balls, and none too gently either, pulling them and squeezing them just enough to cause me discomfort but not too much pain.

After fifteen or twenty minutes of this, she released me and led me to one of the pleasant sunny deck areas, where she made me serve her a late breakfast, before finally dismissing me with an order to report back to the unaccompanied slave quarters. Her parting remark, as she patted my bum with a smile, was "I enjoyed that, slave, and I'm glad I decided to allow your request last night. And I trust your good night's sleep has refreshed you for another interesting day -- and perhaps another busy night tonight!" I grinned at her in reply: I was indeed feeling good, and ready for anything the day might bring.

Apart from the events already hinted at, my time as an unaccompanied slave passed without other highlights: the activities and the idle times in our cells, that were briefly described at the start of this chapter, kept it passing in anything but a dull manner... for me, at least!

In the afternoon of the fifth day of the cruise -- the second day after my Mistress left to visit the island -- we unaccompanied slaves, along with a number of passengers' slaves, were brought together on deck. The ship was at anchor, and we could see another island nearby, with a number of buildings and a small wharf: I guessed that there was no channel deep enough to let the ship actually berth there.

An officer attracted our attention and announced, "The ship will be spending nearly two days anchored off the island you can see. It happens to be owned by the cruise operators, for a twofold purpose: one, to make a profit through the produce of the plantation we run there; and two, to give slaves like you a taste of the old 'field-hand' or 'chain-gang' slavery! Obviously, using you for the second helps us achieve the first, since slaves don't have to be paid!"

As I listened to this, my heart began thumping at the picture he was painting. This was a new sort of slavery for me, different from the formalized and essentially sex-oriented slavery I had submitted to with my Mistress, and I wondered just how harshly we could expect to be treated. However, I suspected my Mistress had been quite aware of this possibility when she'd left me for the island, and by now I trusted her implicitly -- so much so, that my pulse was racing much more from excited anticipation than from fear.

"Some of you," the officer was saying, "will already know the conditions attached to this part of the cruise, but for those who don't, they are as follows: owners who have brought their slaves may assign them to duty on a chain-gang -- those to whom this applies know who I mean -- but all unaccompanied slaves are automatically 'volunteers' for this 'slave labour', since your fares have been so heavily discounted. This applies whether you requested unaccompanied status yourselves, or whether your owners -- passenger or officer -- have loaned you for unaccompanied slavery: what matters is that you are designated as such at this moment .

"We make just one concession: any passenger slave -- not crew! -- may opt out of the obligation, on pain of a fairly severe penalty. Some of you may have heard what the penalty is, some may have suffered it before, but I won't tell the rest of you what it is. Now, do I have any 'opters-out'?... anyone who wants to avoid a bit of 'slave labour', risking an unknown penalty to do so?"

This option was clearly intended to discourage opting out, and I was not about to take it. But three slaves, two males and one female, did raise their hands.

"Are you sure?" the officer asked them. "I warn you, you'll have no chance to change your minds when the penalty is revealed to you." All three kept their hands up, however, and he said curtly, "Very well. Take them away."

One of the male 'opters-out' happened to be close to me and I noticed, as an officer led him away, that his face had a look of anticipation, even eagerness: perhaps he knew something I didn't, that the threatened penalty wasn't as bad as it might be? (I saw him again after our stay on this island, looking a good deal less happy: practically every inch of his body showed the marks of whipping, and he confided to me that the penalty had indeed been more severe than he'd anticipated, since he'd been put in solitary confinement and almost continuous bondage, as well as being whipped frequently.)

The officer consulted a list he held, and called out the names of a number of slaves: they stood forward obediently, and other officers quickly shackled them in groups of four, by means of iron collars or ankle cuffs padlocked to lengths of strong chain. After these 'selected' slaves -- selected for no reason that I could guess at -- were shackled, the assisting officers simply moved amongst the rest of us, taking us quite arbitrarily and shackling us similarly in groups of four. So I found myself a member of a 'chain-gang' -- but one I didn't really mind, seeing as I was lucky enough to be 'ganged' with three attractive female slaves!

All we 'chain-gangs' were taken down into the ship's hold, where we were put to work, loading boxes through a hatch in its side onto a motor launch that had come out from the island. The launch made several trips, each time taking a few slaves along with its cargo, until all the boxes were on the wharf and all the 'chain-gangs' stood waiting for our further orders. Then the officer who had been supervising us 'handed us over' formally to a man and a woman, dressed in exactly the kind of clothes one would expect on the owners of tropical plantations, who'd been watching without saying a word.

Apart from a polite "Thank you" to the officer, who returned to the ship, they said nothing more: but their position of authority became very clear when, with the merest of gestures, they summoned a number of what were obviously 'overseers' from a hut on the wharf. These were slaves, like the rest of us -- at least they were naked like us! -- but that they were there to control us 'chain-gang slaves' was unarguable: they were unshackled, free to move as they wished, and each of them carried a heavy, vicious-looking whip at least eight feet long!

I suspect none of us chained slaves ever knew whether our overseers would have used their whips to force our obedience: in fact, they never needed to, because the whips' threat alone was enough to keep us in line and working as we were ordered! Our first task was to move the piles of boxes from the wharf to various places of storage, and the overseers saw to this with the barest minimum of instructions from the 'boss' and his lady: we were formed into long lines, and we passed boxes from one gang to the next until the wharf was empty. It took somewhat longer than really necessary, thanks to the way we were shackled together, but I suspected that this was deliberate, to enhance the effect of slaves being put to 'hard labour'.

The 'hard labour' wasn't really very strenuous, but we were nevertheless sweaty when we'd finished; we were herded together into an enclosure with concrete walls and floor, the door was shut behind us, and then several of the overseers hosed us down with a shower of cold water from over the seven-foot-high walls. They also tossed us bars of coarse but well-lathering soap and scrubbing brushes, ordering us to use them on each other -- not ourselves! -- to make sure we were clean. I and the three naked girls I was shackled to, found this exercise very enjoyable indeed, and likewise the subsequent rubbing each other dry with thick but rough towels!

By now the semi-tropical twilight was drawing in quickly, and we were herded into a large shed, where we were given food. There was just one large bowl on the floor for each four-slave gang, who had to sit around it and eat with the primitive wooden spoons provided. Although it looked little better than the mush that might be fed to pigs, it turned out to taste quite good and my companions and I had little trouble in emptying our bowl.

After this meal, each gang was taken separately into another part of the shed, obviously the slaves' dormitory. There was a cubicle for each gang, and each cubicle was divided into four narrow compartments: each slave had to lie down in a compartment, and the chains between us were fastened into slots in such a way that it was quite impossible not only for a gang to escape, but also for any member of the gang even to touch another!

"You're here to sleep," grinned our overseer as he made sure I and my fellow-slaves were secure. "The bosses want you fresh and strong for your work tomorrow: if we didn't fix you like this, you mightn't get enough sleep to do any work at all -- especially you!" he added to me, clearly referring to the temptations of being shackled to three such attractive naked females! Just as clearly, as an overseer he was under fewer restrictions, and he spent some time coaxing a few murmurs of pleasure from my companions before leaving us.

There seemed to be no rule about talking here, however, and the three girls and I chatted for some time through the thin partitions separating us. We wondered aloud what kind of 'slave labour' we would be put to in the morning, and whether any of the more severe treatments associated with real slavery might be used on us. In fact, the sound of all the slave-gangs talking in their cubicles amounted to little less than a roar at first, but gradually things got quieter as tiredness crept over us all. I dropped off to sleep at last, and slept surprisingly well, despite the floor of my compartment being hardly even the thinnest of mattresses.

It was barely light next morning when we were awoken by the sound of a loud gong, after which our overseers released us from our cubicles and sent us into the main part of the shed for breakfast. This was served in the same way as had the evening meal, and it was similarly unappetising to look at but pleasant enough to eat. Being quite well rested, and adequately fed, I found myself actually looking forward to the day's labours!

These 'slave labours', while not heavy physical work or really demeaning tasks -- after all, the slavery on the cruise was meant to be fun for all concerned -- were nevertheless physical and tiring... and mainly boring. Boring enough, in fact, not to be worth describing here, except to say that we did the kind of weeding, tilling and such like jobs that real 'plantation' slaves would have had to spend some of their time on. Naturally, we were directed in these tasks by the overseer slaves, who ensured our obedience with the threat of the big whips they still carried but never used: but they also carried -- and did use, often! -- smaller whips or crops, which inflicted no real damage but could sting very sharply!

Having the very submissive nature I was born with, I found the context itself enjoyable and very exciting; and I'm quite sure that most, if not all, the other 'chain-gang' slaves felt the same to some degree or other. I know the three slave-girls I was shackled to shared my feelings, and we all entered into the spirit of this re-creation of a particular environment -- as did the slave overseers, themselves as naked as we were, but unshackled to enable them to control us in carrying out their orders. These were issued by the boss and his lady, who also kept up the charade by keeping themselves at a discreet -- and somehow superior! -- distance, along with a number of 'owners' from the ship... yet there was little doubt of the interest with which they all watched!

I like to think we slaves gave them a show worth watching! Some played the parts of slaves who'd perhaps been beaten into submission, cowering and working eagerly in order to avoid the overseers' whips; others pretended defiance and offered resistance, sometimes token and sometimes quite strong, and performed the work demanded of them only with the coercion of those same whips. And the overseers played their own parts well, shouting and brandishing their whips and crops with great flourishes, but rarely striking with very much force.

For my part, I played a role somehwere between these extremes. I found it so exciting -- to be a stark naked 'plantation' slave, my one ankle shackled by a heavy chain to three other similarly naked slaves; to feel the sun and air on my nudity, as well as the touch of the plants we were tending; to be shouted at by equally naked overseers, their status above mine emphasised by being unshackled and carrying whips to enforce my obedience, yet still slaves in their servile obedience to their own orders; and to be aware of other figures, clothed rather than naked, lounging at ease with cool drinks and shade while they watched us 'slaving'! -- that I wanted my experience of this episode to be as wide as possible. So, at times, I cowered and worked, sullenly or eagerly; at others, I talked back to the overseers or refused to work... until a few sharp cracks of a whip or crop across my back or bum 'persuaded' me.

I felt especially lucky to have been 'ganged' with the three pretty girls who shared my labours: I was certain that, true to the cruise's principle that male and female slaves were virtually interchangeable, my good fortune had been co-incidental, and I felt a bit sorry for some other gangs, who consisted of four males or four females. 'My' gang were wonderful company -- two of them were unaccompanied slaves, the other was a crew slave 'on loan' -- and they were unfailingly cheerful, enjoying this episode in their own ways as much as I was, as well as very sexy indeed! They got a great kick out of 'ganging up' on me (pun intended!), teasing me unmercifully -- but very pleasantly! -- by posing their lovely naked bodies to excite me and talking in the most explicit terms about their bodies... and mine, for that matter! Several times I found it impossible to resist giving one or other of them a surreptitious caress: fortunately, these went unnoticed by the overseers... all but one, that is, and that one brought me and the girl, whose pussy I was fondling, by far the sharpest whip cuts we got all day. It was worth it, though!

Naturally, we slaves were somewhat tired -- though by no means exhausted -- when a halt was called to our 'labours' that evening and we were herded back towards the shed that had been our 'quarters' last night. I, for one, was actually looking forward to lying down on the floor of my cubicle -- relatively hard and uncomfortable though it might be -- and being able to rest my weary legs and arms. But what transpired was something quite unexpected....

As we slave-gangs arrived at the shed, we were paraded, one gang at a time, in front of the couple who seemed to 'own' the plantation. Our overseers warned us not to say a word, but they themselves addressed the couple, obsequiously, as 'Boss' and 'Boss-Lady'. This was the first time we slaves had seen our temporary 'owners' up close and, although we were expected to keep our eyes down, I was impressed by the aura of power and command that seemed to surround them: in particular, I couldn't help but notice the 'Boss-Lady', a tall, statuesque and stunningly beautiful woman with decidedly Spanish features and long black hair.

During this 'inspection parade', several gangs of slaves were drawn aside, at a word from the Boss or Boss-Lady, for a closer inspection. My gang was the first of these, and one of my slave-girl companions was carefully and thoroughly looked over by the Boss, who ran his hands over her naked body, made her open her mouth and poke her tongue out, and even spread her thighs with his hand so that he could push his fingers into her pussy. To my surprise, when he'd finished with her, he turned to me and made a similar inspection of my nudity, ending with a very thorough handling of my cock and balls.

My surprise was even greater when, by whatever standards he was judging us, he selected me but not the girl-slave! As our attendant overseer obeyed his order to separate me from my companions -- care was taken to hobble my ankles before disconnecting the chain holding me to the others, and my wrists were tied behind me as well -- I wondered for what purpose or special duty I'd been chosen. I stood aside, under the watchful eye of another overseer slave, and watched as the parade continued: seven more slaves were selected, until there were four males and four females, two of each having been chosen by the Boss and Boss-Lady.

We eight were taken by two overseers, who gave us a careful soaping and rub-down: with our hands behind us, we couldn't do this for ourselves, but I doubt if any of us minded having our sweaty naked bodies lathered and scrubbed and dried by the overseers. Then we were fed our evening meal, before the rest of the slaves, and finally we were led up to what was clearly the house of the plantation 'owners', where we were 'handed over' to two more slaves.

Judging from the brief but good-natured banter between these two and the overseers who'd brought us, the former were clearly 'house-slaves' and liked to think of themselves as superior to the 'field-slaves', even the overseers. They took the liberty of checking the eight of us carefully, finally pronounced us clean enough to enter the Bosses' house, and sent the other overseers away with smug grins. The male 'house-slave' took charge of me and the three other males, his female companion did the same with the four slave-girls, and they led us into what was obviously a dining room.

Soon after they had arranged us in two rows beside the table, the Boss and Boss-Lady came in and sat down to a delicious meal served by the two house-slaves. They behaved as if it were perfectly normal to dine with four male and four female slaves, standing naked and shackled and clearly 'on display' -- perhaps it was, for them! -- and they seemed to give us little attention, apart from a casual glance or two, as they chatted over their meal, discussing the way the slaves' work had gone today.

Later, between courses, they gave us more attention, though still casual and even off-hand: once or twice, with the merest nod or pointed finger, they had a house-slave bring one of us closer, for brief but intimate fondles of our naked bodies, accompanied by matter-of-fact comments to each other on our physical attributes. Later still, they even spoke to us a little, mainly to ask us how we'd enjoyed our work: one or two of us acted sullen and complained of having to work too hard (which only brought a crisp comment that we were lucky we hadn't been put to really heavy labour!), but I decided to 'curry favour' by telling the Boss-Lady very humbly that I was willing to do anything for her (to which she responded with an enigmatic smile that may have meant either apporval or cynicism).

At the end of the meal, we slaves were led out, and I and the three other males found ourselves in a large and comfortable bedroom. Obeying the house-slave's instruction to get down on our knees facing the foot of the bed, we waited expectantly, with more than an inkling of what was about to happen! It must have been nearly a half-hour later when the house-slave obsequiously opened the door to usher in the Boss-Lady.

With my eyes downcast as was expected of us slaves, all I saw was the hem of a long and richly brocaded robe and the tips of white shoes, but the voice that said, "Thank you, boy. Wait next door until I call" was unmistakably hers. The door closed and she was alone with us: she walked in front of us twice, then sat down on the foot of the bed and spoke.

"You may look at me, slaves," was the first thing she said. We did so, and saw that she'd crossed her legs, allowing the robe to fall open and reveal that her white 'shoes' were in fact boots of the finest soft leather, reaching to well above her knees; in fact, the only part of her that was visible was her lovely face -- but the curves of her firm breasts were clear under the robe.

"I'm sure you have a pretty good idea," she continued with a smile, "of why you're here, but I do enjoy spelling out in detail what I expect of you. Every time the ship brings a new batch of slave-gangs for your stint of labour on our plantation, the Boss and I play a little game, to see if any of you are good for more than just slaving in the fields. You may have noticed that he chose two of you and I chose the other two, just as we did with the four slave-girls he has in his bedroom now: we find it interesting to see how well we can pick slaves to the other's taste, and it leads to a good deal of variety as well!

"Now it's time for me to check you out more closely, to see if I want to keep you to play with tonight. I may keep all four of you, or I may keep only one: if you fail to please me enough, I may order a whipping for you, or I may let my personal slave-boy amuse himself with you, or return you to the Boss to decide what to do with you... or even send you straight back to the field-slave quarters. If I choose the latter, you may as well know, the overseers might take out their jealousy at you being chosen, by amusing themselves with you for the rest of the night, at some discomfort and humiliation for you!"

Her broad grin, as she said this, was completely without malice, but there was little doubt that these 'threats' were intended to elicit our best efforts to please her. How we were to do this, now became obvious: she stood up and casually, but incredibly sensually, allowed the robe to slide to the floor, revealing to our goggling eyes her magnificent body. Her slightly olive skin was flawless, her figure was as perfect as it was voluptuous, and the thatch of black curly hair, just above the tops of skin-tight boots she wore, was thick and luxurious.

She stood a moment, obviously basking in the frank admiration of our stares, then sat down again, spread her legs wide and leaned back on her arms. "You will each have five minutes to convince me of your skill with your mouth," she announced, and nodded at the slave on her left. "You first."

Watching that first slave, then the next, eagerly bury their mouths in her pussy and follow her instructions to lick other parts of her gorgeous body and to suck on her dark red nipples, I resolved to do my very best to please her. Not, I had to admit to myself, that I was terribly afraid of what might happen to me if I failed, but because she turned me on so intensely that I really wanted to give her as much pleasure as I possibly could, and -- just perhaps -- she might reward me by allowing me to feast my eyes on her beauty for even a few minutes longer. By the way she accepted the attentions of the first two slaves' lips and tongues -- almost detached and clinically -- I could tell that it wasn't going to be easy to impress her; but this only increased my resolve.

I was third in line and, at her nod, I crawled as quickly as I could to the place between her legs and set to work with a will. I did the very best I could, thrusting my tongue deep inside her fragrant cunt, sucking and nippling gently on the clit half-hidden in her thick pussy hair and, on her command, lifting my face to run my lips over the smooth firm curves of her magnificent tits as she leaned over me. With their ripe fullness, their large aureoles and the hard buttons of her nipples at their tips, her breasts were as excting to touch as any I'd ever seen; when she told me my five minutes was up, I felt as if I wanted to keep sucking them for ever!

After the fourth slave had had his five minutes, the Boss-Lady sat up straight and crossed her legs again before looking down at us with more than a touch of amusement in her eyes. "Well," she said, "I can't complain about your keenness, slaves: I only trust your work in the fields is equally willing! Now, three of you were satisfactory, but the other wasn't quite up to scratch."

She paused, with a teasing smile on her lips as she watched each of us wondering who the failure was. "Let's see," she went on, keeping us in suspense even longer, "shall I give that one a whipping?... No," she decided after a moment's thought, "I'm feeling generous tonight: maybe the Boss can make some use of him...

"Boy!" she called and, when her personal slave came in, pointed at -- to my great relief! -- the fourth slave and said, "I don't want this slave: take him to the Boss' slave-girl, and bring back any slaves that he mightn't have been happy with." Her slave obeyed, and returned within moments, leading two of the four female slaves that had been chosen for the Boss.

"This is unusual, isn't it, boy?" exclaimed the Boss-Lady in undisguised surprise. "Usually he keeps all four of them, and keeps them busy all night, one way or another: maybe he's not feeling quite himself tonight. Now let's see, what am I going to do with all these bodies?" She thought for a minute or so, then said, "OK, slave-girls, come here and show me how clever you are with your pretty mouths!"

Lying back on the bed, she made the two girls lean over her and, with one at each of her lovely tits, allowed them a few minutes to demonstrate their skill at licking and nibbling and sucking. At the same time, she reached up and ran her hands over their bodies, cupping their breasts in her palms, rolling their nipples in her fingers, and exploring the secrets of their pussies. At last she pushed them away and sat up.

"Right, I've decided," she announced. "I'll have one male and one female slave working on each of my breasts: you and you, come here on each side of me." The slave-girl and male slave -- not me! -- she indicated, obeyed; then her eye fell directly on me.

"You," she said, "have the greatest privilege -- and the responsibility that goes with it. Come here!" She moved back on the enormous bed until she was leaning back on the pillows, leaving plenty of space at her feet; when I had obeyed, she went on, "I liked your manners at dinner, and your tongue test was good too. Your job is to give me pleasure with your mouth on my pussy and clit, whenever I want it, all night if necessary: I hope you have the stamina for it. You may start now!"

As I obeyed, I heard her giving her personal slave more orders: one of these was to restrict the movement of us three slaves on her bed by joining our wrists and ankles in a sort of hogtie, loose enough to allow some movement but quite effective to prevent us getting down from the bed. The other orders were to "... use these other two slaves to put on a show for me: you know the sort of thing I like."

I saw nothing at all of this 'show': it went on behind me, where the Boss-Lady could easily see it, and I had to concentrate on her pussy for the whole of its duration. From the sounds I heard, I guessed it involved some bondage for the two slaves, and certainly oral sex as well, but whether this was performed on each other or on the Boss-Lady's personal slave, I couldn't tell. All I could see, apart from the pussy directly in front of my face, were some glimpses of my two fellow-slaves' mouths busy on her tits, and of her hands occasionally fondling their naked and available bodies.

In contrast with her demeanour during our tests, the Boss-Lady now began to respond to the attentions of my mouth. It wasn't long before my mouth on her pussy, the other two on her tits, added to the stimulation of the 'show', had brought her to a high pitch of arousal. Yet she was clearly in no hurry at all to reach a climax, showing remarkable self-control in orchestrating the various stimulations of the three mouths on her body.

For my part, I found it incredibly exciting, to be part of such a bizarre and erotic tableau. I worked my lips and teeth and tongue willingly, following her terse instructions as precisely as I could, because I still wanted to give her all the pleasure I possibly could. And one quite new aspect was especially arousing for me: the smooth touch of the leather encasing her long legs! It reached up so close to her pussy that I could even see it, contrasting dramatically with the darker tones of her skin, and she constantly rubbed it against my face and ears and neck, and down my back and sides.

I felt the sharp tips of her boot heels, too, when she finally let herself come: clutching my head between her strong thighs so tightly that it seemed she might crush my skull, she dug her heels deep into the muscles of my back and screamed aloud in ecstasy. I got little rest, however, after the orgasm passed, because she seemed instantly ready for more stimulation: tired but still willing, I persevered and was later rewarded with what was clearly a shattering climax, that had her writhing and moaning for several minutes.

Only now did she allow me, and the two slaves at her breasts, to relax. When she herself had regained her breath, she told her personal slave to "... stop the show now. You may keep the slave-girl overnight if she takes your fancy, but send the male slave back to the slave quarters. You other three slaves," she went on, referring to me and my fellow-slaves on her bed, "you may sleep now, but I expect you to respond quickly if I wake up and feel like some more fun!"

And she did! Two or three times that night, I was woken by a sharp jab of a boot toe in my ribs: no words were said, but I knew what I had to do, and applied my mouth to the lush pussy presented to it. I don't think she came again, but she clearly enjoyed the attentions of three mouths, there to give her pleasure on demand.

Despite these interruptions, I seemed to sleep quite well, perhaps partly because this was the first time in ages that I was actually permitted to sleep on a soft bed, rather than a hard pallet or worse! I and my fellow-slaves were woken quietly, early the next morning, by the Boss-Lady's slave: in the deep slumber of satisfied sexuality, she didn't even stir as we crept out of the room and were 'handed back' to an overseer slave to rejoin the other field-slaves.

Soon I found myself again shackled to the three slave-girls in my 'gang', and sitting on the floor of the shed for breakfast. They were naturally interested in my adventures, and listened eagerly to my brief but graphic description of the night I'd spent. When I finished, I discovered that only two of them had spent the night in the cubicle: the third had been 'claimed' by one of the overseer slaves, and I and the other two were eager to know more.

Apparently, on this second night of the cruise ship's periodic visit, the overseers -- who worked on the plantation for terms of months rather than days -- were permitted to choose one of the visiting 'chain-gang' slaves for their own pleasure. The slave-girl in question had been chosen by a big strong black overseer slave, who had made a quite fearsome spectacle during our 'labours' the previous day: she admitted that she'd been a tiny bit scared when he'd lifted her over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried her well into the trees surrounding the plantation.

"But I needn't have been afraid," she grinned shyly. "He was a bit rough, because he wanted to tie me up to trees and things, or spreadeagled on the ground. I don't mind that, though -- it's what I love about being a slave. But underneath it all, he just wanted to screw himself silly: he fucked me at least five times during the night, and each time was slow and long... like his cock, which looks big enough normally, but you ought to see it when it's hard! In any case, he made sure I came too, every time, so... although my pussy's a bit tender, I'm feeling very satisfied!"

I also learned what happened to the male slave that the Boss-Lady had sent back to quarters. Her 'threat' had indeed been carried out: he'd spent the whole night tied in a variety of uncomfortable ways and the overseers, between amusung themselves with their choice of slaves, had organized a sort of 'relay' in tormenting him -- with bags of crushed ice enclosing his cock and balls, rubber dildoes pushed into his rectum, spring-loaded clamps on his nipples or any other sensitive part... and a succession of overseers' cocks or pussies thrust against his mouth, whether he was willing or not!

I was very glad that I'd worked so hard at pleasing the Boss-Lady! Now I found myself wondering if I would ever again see her lovely nakedness.

I was still thinking along these lines a short time afterwards, when we slave-gangs were working at preparing produce for loading on the ship.

Suddenly, an overseer slave came to my chain-gang and, without so much as a word, disconnected my ankle shackle from the three girls and led me up to the house where I'd spent the night. There I was 'handed over' once again to the Boss-Lady's personal slave, who took me to a very pleasant patio where a table was set with what looked like a delicious breakfast.

"My Mistress will be here in a moment," he said. "She wants another look at you, so you better pose in a way that shows off your body best: legs a bit apart... hips forward... belly in... chest out... hands clasped behind your neck... yes, that'll do."

He left me waiting there, but I didn't have to wait long. The Boss-Lady came out, wearing a long semi-transparent robe in a shade of pale green that complemented her skin tones perfectly and allowed me to see just a hint of her shapely figure underneath. She sat down at the table and started to eat, seeming not to notice how my cock had got hard at the sight of her... but before long she reached out casually and fondled it briefly -- at which it got harder still!

She said nothing at all until she'd eaten most of her breakfast, but she continued to run her hands occasionally over my nakedness, from neck to thighs but concentrating on my nipples, cock and balls, and bottom. Finally, when she was enjoying a second cup of coffee, she turned towards me and spoke.

"I don't often do this," she said, "with the field-slaves who are lucky enough to spend the night with me. After all, that's a privilege enough as it is, and it's only your duty to justify that privilege by pleasing me as well as you can. However, in this case I wanted to compliment you on the excellent service you gave me with your tongue last night."

I found myself blushing deeply at this, it was so unexpected, and my cock seemed to get harder than ever. She smiled and gave it an even more thorough fondle before going on: "In fact, I enjoyed your service so much that I got in touch with the ship this morning, and asked to speak with your owner. Which is why I've had you brought here -- not just to have another look at you, and play with you. I was told that you're an unaccompanied slave -- yes?"

"Not really, ma'am," I replied, more than a little surprised. "I thought they would have told you..."

"I'm asking you , slave!" she interrupted sharply, and gave my balls a slight but painful squeeze to emphasize her rebuke.

"I... I'm sorry, ma'am," I stammered. "I am an unaccompanied slave at the moment, but only because my Mistress chose to take another unaccompanied slave with her while visiting the other island, and left me in his place."

"I see," she replied. "So you do have an owner on this cruise. Is that an arrangement for the cruise only, or does she own you at other times, too?"

"Yes, ma'am, she's my permanent Mistress."

"... and you're her permanent slave," she added the obvious corollary. "Now tell me, are you her full-time slave?"

"Yes, ma'am!" My reply was given with not a little pride.

"Good!" she said, with a smile of great satisfaction. "That's what the Purser couldn't tell me. And, since your owner isn't available right now, that's why I had you brought here."

She paused, her hands still toying idly with my cock, and looked me straight in the eyes as she went on in a very serious voice: "I would like to have you as my personal slave. I'm getting a little bored with my present one, and he's ready for a change, too... when I find a suitable replacement. Of course, this would be subject to your owner's agreement, but how would you feel about it?"

I stared at her in utter confusion. One part of me found this woman so sexy and exciting -- needless to say, that feeling was betrayed by the reaction of that one physical part of me that she was still fondling! -- but there was also the strong sense of loyalty I felt towards my Mistress. The latter won out, but I wondered how the Boss-Lady would take my answer: she was kind enough to wait patiently for it, and I think she was hopeful of a positive answer, by the way my cock was standing up rigid and purple!

"Thank you, ma'am," I managed to say at last, "for the compliment you've paid me with your offer: it would have been a great honour to be your slave, but please, may I explain that I've been a full-time slave only a short time and I'm still learning to please my Mistress and I very much hope she's not tired of me yet. So... I beg you to accept my humble refusal of your kind offer."

The Boss-Lady's smile was a mixture of regret and approval. "That was nicely done, slave," she said. "I won't try to change your mind, but it's a pity, because I think you would have enjoyed slavery to me. Slave!" she called to summon her slave and, when he instantly appeared, told him, "You'll be staying with me a bit longer, isn't that nice? Now bring me paper and a pen." He obeyed, and she told him to summon one of the overseer slaves.

Rapidly, she covered a sheet of paper with neat handwriting, then rolled it into a tube and used real wax to seal it and fix the ribbon she tied around it. She tied the other end of the same ribbon tightly around the base of my cock, saying, "Be sure to give this to the Purser to hold for your Mistress: he's expecting it. And, just to save you from the temptation to see what I've written, put your hands behind your back. Slave, tie his wrists!"

She stood up, her hands retaining a firm grip on my still-hard cock, then leaned forward to give me a brief kiss on the lips. "Be a good slave," she said with a warm smile, "and enjoy your slavery to your Mistress as long as it lasts." Turning to her own slave, she ordered, "Send him back to the ship, with my apologies to the officer in charge, if I've caused any delay."

Both her slave, and the overseer slave he passed me on to, used my cock as a convenient handle as they hurried me down to the wharf. Perhaps it was their grip, or the ribbon around its base, or perhaps my thoughts about the offer I'd just refused, that kept my cock almost fully hard! A boat was waiting, crewed by 'chain-gang' slaves under the orders of an officer, who greeted my 'escort' with impatient amusement: apparently, this was the last boat, and the Captain was anxious to weigh anchor and leave!

Since my tied wrists wouldn't allow me to help with the paddling, the officer bound me to the boat's small mast, then used a narrow leather paddle across my belly and chest to beat time for the paddlers and urge them to greater speed. By the time we reached the ship, the entire front of my naked body was a mass of red marks, but they weren't really too painful.

As soon as we were aboard, I obtained permission to deliver the Boss-Lady's letter to the Purser's office. The lovely Nicole went to inform the Purser of my errand and returned, saying, "He told me to bring the letter to him myself, and ordered you to report back to the officer in charge of unaccompanied slaves." Smiling, she took her time in untying the ribbon from my cock, and gleefully gave my nakedness a quick but thorough fondle. It was only the first of several I received, before I reached the unaccompanied slave quarters!

Often during the next few days, I wondered what was in that letter... and whether I would ever find out! I did, as it turned out, soon after my Mistress reclaimed me from my stint of unaccompanied slavery: she had me with her when she opened it, commenting drily as she did so, "I hope it's not a complaint of bad behaviour on your part, slave."

"Dear Mistress Tina," she read aloud. "My compliments to you on your fine slave, and especially on the talents of his lips and tongue. I enjoyed these talents several times last night; so much, in fact, that I have just asked your slave if he is willing to transfer his full-time slavery to me."

My Mistress paused briefly, but didn't even look at me before she continued reading: "If he had agreed, I would have wanted to discuss this with you, of course. However, he refused very politely, as is appropriate for a slave who is being well treated and is properly submissive to his current owner.

"On the other hand..." My Mistress paused again, and this time she did glance down at me with a strange expression in her eyes. "... he is only a slave, after all, and as such I refuse to take his answer as final, because it's not a slave's place to make such important decisions, I'm sure you agree. I think you should also know that his answer was not in terms of 'That is a matter for my Mistress to decide', but rather in terms of how he felt about his slavery to you.

"Therefore, I wish to pursue the matter further, and I feel I have just two options. One would be to kidnap your slave, but of course this would be quite improper and unforgivable of me. The other is to make an offer directly to you, to purchase him: this may persuade you to part with him, in which case he may reconsider his position and be willing to be my slave. I have a strong suspicion that the prospect didn't exactly turn him off!

"In any case, if you were willing to sell him to me, would he have any choice? I didn't ask him about the actual terms of his slavery to you, but there are some slaves, as you no doubt know, who have agreed to a fixed period of slavery, during which they may be passed between any number of owners, without any right of refusal on their part. Perhaps he is one of these?

"However that may be, I am offering to purchase your slave. Of course, I'm prepared to negotiate on the price, and my opening offer is..." My Mistress let out a low whistle and said, "I don't think I should tell you what her offer is, slave. You might get a swelled head!" She glanced down, grinned and commented drily, "There's another part of you that's already swollen enough!"

She started to read again. "I hope to receive your reply with the next visit of the cruise ship. Naturally, I hope it will convey your acceptance of my offer, perhaps in the form of your slave himself, securely bound or even in a crate, prominently labelled as 'Property of the Boss-Lady'!" I listened in fascination, my submissive nature excited by the images this conjured up.

"Yours sincerely, Lady Anita of the Plantation." My Mistress finished reading and looked down at me as I knelt at her feet. "Well, slave, I think you better tell me all about it: what you did to impress this Lady Anita so much, what she said to you, and exactly what you answered." I did so, taking care to describe everything as accurately as I could remember it, but trying not to give her too strong an impression of how much this Lady Anita had turned me on. She listened with interest, interrupting me only when she wanted something clarified. When I finished, she spent some minutes in thought before speaking.

"As far as I'm concerned," she said at last, "you are not for sale, at any price: I want that clearly understood. However, if you told her what you did, only out of loyalty to me, and you'd really like to become her slave, I'm willing to let you go: I could haggle for the best price, but I don't really need the money, so it could go in your bank account for when you might need it.

"As for the actual conditions of your slavery to her, I would make it quite clear that they must be negotiated between you: I would ask the cruise ship Captain, or a senior officer, to be present and witness your agreement. Could I be fairer than that? Now, what do you say?"

"Please, Mistress," I replied without hesitation, "I want to stay with you, as your slave, as long as you want me."

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking me straight in the eye.

"Yes, Mistress, I'm quite sure," I said firmly.

"I'm so glad," she smiled, her face warm with affection. "Your slavery to me has hardly begun, and I hope it'll be a long time yet before we start getting bored with each other. I know I've got lots of interesting, exciting and maybe surprising plans for you, and I'm sure you still have lots of potential to be an even better slave, and give me a great deal of pleasure.

"I'm quite flattered, though," she continued musingly, "that Lady Anita was so impressed with the skill you showed with your tongue: it proves my training is having some effect, eh? Mind you," she grinned archly, "I don't want you getting overblown ideas about your talents, because I think you still have a very long way to go, before you can fully satisfy me -- and satisfying me is what really counts... isn't it? Yes or no?"

I humbly murmured my agreement, but she didn't leave it at that. Clearly enjoying herself hugely, she forced from my lips a re-iteration of my total submission to her, and of the prime purpose of that submission: namely, that I was something to be used for her pleasure, however and whenever she wanted it. I duly gave the proper responses to her series of questions, from "I'm your Mistress, right?" and "You're my slave, yes?", to "And a moment ago, you said you want to be my slave, didn't you?" and "Which means you want to go on trying to please me, and help me to have the best orgasms you can, eh?" and finally, explicitly and humiliatingly, "What with , slave?"

"With my tongue, Mistress," I replied. Truth to tell, I was enjoying this 'renewal' of my vows of subservience to her, as much as she was: and she knew it, and I knew she knew it. This is just one of the things that's so wonderful about slavery to such a dominant but understanding Mistress! Her face was flushed with excitement when we reached this point, and I fully expected her to demand concrete proof of my oral devotion to her, immediately. But she fooled me -- again! -- with a much more serious challenge.

"Perhaps," she mused, "you performed above yourself with Lady Anita, because she turned you on so much. I think I'd be justified in being quite insulted, if you can't reach the same heights with me -- your Mistress, whom you want to stay with, and to whom you want to give all the pleasure you can. So... when I next demand the use of your sooo talented tongue, I'll expect to understand exactly why she was prepared to make such an outrageous offer for you. I hope you think about that, and remember it... the next time I allow your head between my legs, and your mouth on my pussy that you claim to adore!"

Her tone was serious, and I knew she meant every word: I wondered whether I could rise to the expectations that the episode with Lady Anita had aroused in her, and also what she might do to me if I failed to meet them.

Suddenly, her serious mood vanished as if it had never been, and she looked down at me with a bright smile. "Oh, I forgot!" she exclaimed, "Lady Anita's letter has a PS: it says, 'Whatever your resonse to my offer, please give your slave a small reward that you know he'll enjoy, for eating my pussy so well'.

"H'mmm," she murmured, thinking for a long moment. "Well, slave, I think you deserve..." -- she paused, deliberately keeping me in suspense -- "... a big reward! Not just for what she suggests, but even more for turning down her invitation and choosing to stay with me. Now, as to that reward...

"While you were amongst the unaccompanied slaves, was there by any chance one of the female slaves who particularly took your fancy?" Her lips curved slightly in the sort of sweet smile one might expect from a jealous wife. Only because I wasn't here, naturally! Well, was there? Be honest, now."

I found myself blushing and stammering in totally unexpected embarrassment. Well... yes, Mistress... there was one slave-girl..."

"D'you know her name?"

"Yes, Mistress, it's slave Julie."

"So... what would you like to do with slave Julie?"

"Er... er... everything, Mistress!" I blurted."

"Tell me -- in detail!" Now my Mistress' smile was indulgent, perhaps even encouraging.

"Well... er... I'd like to caress her... her naked body... all over. I'd like to run my hands over her breasts and... and roll her nipples in my fingers... feel the curves of her waist and hips and bottom and thighs under my hands." Slowly, encouraged by my Mistress' close attention to my every word, I warmed to my task and went on more positively: "Then I would put my hands between her thighs and feel the mound of her pussy, and slide my fingers up into her warm cunt. I'd also like her to suck my cock with her pretty mouth: most of all, I'd like to push my cock inside her, and fuck her very slowly."

"You're right about 'everything'," murmured my Mistress drily. "There's not much left after all that, is there? Except one thing: would you like to whip this slave-girl, too?"

"Not really, Mistress," I replied. "That's for Masters and Mistresses to do. Anyway, I think she's too pretty to be... er... whipped." I realized too late what I was saying, and the last word only came out at the wordless prompting of my Mistress' questioning look, a look that held more than a trace of jealousy.

That trace, however, disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and she spoke almost as if she were giving me a lesson. "As a rule, it seems Masters think that the prettier the slave-girl is, the more whippable she is. As to what is for Masters and Mistresses to do, that applies to everything you want to do to this slave Julie, strictly speaking.

"However," she went on, almost resignedly, "I promised you a reward, and far be it from me to reneg on a promise. Just one more question, though: does this slave-girl fancy you, too?"

"I don't know, Mistress," I replied truthfully. "I've never even spoken to her, and she's given no sign that she's particularly noticed me."

At this, my Mistress smiled with an expression of real anticipation. "Not that that really matters, anyway," she said. "Well, let's see what we can do!" She picked up the phone, and was soon speaking to the officer in charge of unaccompanied slaves. I heard just one side of the conversation.

"Is slave Julie available at present?... Has she registered any unusual conditions or limits on her treatment?... Good, I'd like her brought to my cabin as soon as possible... no shackles at all, but blindfolded and gagged... I'll return her in two hours." She hung up and turned to me.

My excitement had already risen, but it rose even more as she outlined what she had in mind, and I agreed eagerly, in particular to her insistence that she and I should not say a word while slave Julie was in the cabin. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, my Mistress opened it to reveal a crew slave, who announced, "You ordered an unaccompanied slave, ma'am?" Putting her finger to her lips, my Mistress smiled and nodded: the crew slave took the hint and smiled in return, and wordlessly held out the 'slave custody receipt' for her signature.

A moment later, with a frim grip on the arm, she led into the cabin the naked figure of the slave-girl I'd admitted to fancying: placing her in the middle of the floor, she stood back to look her over with an air of critical appraisal. What she saw was a girl of a little below average height, with a body that was at the same time generously curved and beautifully proportioned: her breasts were not large, but very firm and round, with deep red aureoles and prominent thrusting nipples; below a surprisingly narrow waist and flat belly, her hips flared out and down to join a pair of the most perfectly shaped legs I'd ever seen; the curves of her bottom, when my Mistress walked around to see, were almost as perfect.

With the blindfold and gag covering and distorting most of her face, the beauty of her eyes and mouth couldn't be seen, but the cascade of blond waves that reached below her shoulders was attractive by itself. Her skin was quite flawless, smooth and covered with hair so fine that it was virtually invisible -- even on the remarkably prominent mound of her pussy, which had obviously been meticulously depilated: the front of her vaginal lips were clearly visible and, peeping between them, what could only be the tip of a large -- and, I suspected, already somewhat aroused! -- clit.

For its part, my cock was getting aroused too, just by looking at slave Julie. And before long I was doing much more than looking: my Mistress helped me to tie Julie's wrists together and stretch them above her head until she was almost standing on tiptoe, then she sat back in a comfortable chair to watch, nodding to me with a smile as a signal to start doing what I wanted to.

Slowly, almost reverently, I allowed my hands to explore every inch of Julie's glorious naked body. Starting high up on her taut arms, I ran my palms down to her shoulders, around her neck, through her hair, down her back and over the lovely globes of her buttocks; kneeling, I traced the sleek curves of her thighs and calves down to her ankles and back up again, then followed the hour-glass shapes of her hips and waist up to the sides of her chest. Now I ran two fingertips gently around and around each of her full ripe breasts, gradually spiralling them over their firm curves until I reached the nipples, before succumbing to the temptation to place my palms right on them and hold them as if they were fruit waiting to be picked.

For many minutes I fondled those lovely tits: I stroked tham, squeezed them -- quite hard, once or twice! -- cupped them from behind her, rolled and gently pinched their hard nipples with my fingers, ran my nails along their sensitive undersides. In short, I did everything I wanted to... except one: when I leaned down to flick at her nipples with my tongue, intending later to suck on them as well, my Mistress cleared her throat sharply to attract my attention.

She was shaking her head and crooking her finger for me to go across to her: I obeyed, and she made me put my ear close enough to her mouth for her to whisper softly, so that Julie couldn't possibly hear. "Not your mouth, slave," she murmured. "After what we talked about earlier, your lips and tongue are for me only, at the moment. Just use your hands." Despite the softness of her voice, there was no mistaking the firmness of her order.

I nodded my understanding, and returned to Julie. Giving her tits a final brief caress, I now allowed my hands to make their way down over the smooth flatness of her belly, spending a little time playing with the deep indentation of her navel, and then lower still. It must have been obvious to Julie where my destination lay, but her breathing nevertheless quickened sharply when I moved one fingertip quickly from her navel down over the centre of her pussy mound to where her clit peeped shyly, as it were, between the lips just below.

Never before had I had the chance to fondle a girl's pussy that had no thatch of curly hair covering it, and I found it incredibly exciting. My hands cupped its sexy fullness and my fingers traced its shape, running all over it or along the creases that pointed towards her hip-bones and outlined it so clearly. Then I gently pushed both hands between her thighs and moved them apart, hoping she'd be willing to spread her thighs a little for me without force.

Nor was I disappointed: her legs moved apart without the slightest resistance, allowing my hands easy access to her most private parts. And I made good use of that access: I cupped her vulva with my palms and all four fingers, I ran my fingernails gently back and forth on each side of the lips, and finally I used the fingers of one hand to spread them, and thrust the fingers of the other deep inside her moist cunt, first one, then two and three fingers at once.

Her responsiveness to sexual arousal, hardly in doubt since I'd first started caressing her, now became even more pronounced: her hips started to rotate slightly in the most sensual manner imaginable, and she even seemed to be trying to force her body downwards to drive my fingers deeper inside her. From behind the gag blocking her mouth, faint moaning sounds were emerging, and her already rapid breathing was becoming almost a pant. Finally, yet remarkably soon, my thrusting fingers in her cunt, the ball of my thumb on her engorged clit, plus an occasional quick caress of a nipple, brought her to a climax -- almost silent, yet unmistakable by the spasms my fingers felt, the twitching of the flesh of her belly, and a surprisingly loud whining noise that seemed to come from her nose.

Before Julie even had time to 'come down to earth', my Mistress stood up, lowered and untied her wrists, only to tie them tightly palm-to-palm behind her, and forced her onto her knees. Making her cross her ankles -- thus also spreading her knees wide -- my Mistress bent down and looped the rope attached to her wrists, under her ankles and back up to her wrists, making it quite impossible for her even to try to stand. Finally she unfastened the buckle holding Julie's gag in her mouth and removed it... and immediately signalled me to push my rigid cock into Julie's still open mouth.

Despite the suddenness with which this was done, and the likely stiffness of her jaw muscles, Julie co-operated willingly -- and skillfully as well! In fact, such was her skill, coupled with the very high level of arousal I'd reached by fondling her magnificent body, that it was only a couple of minutes before I came. I almost felt disappointed as I arched my back and shot my fluid into Julie's throat, and from the corner of my eye I could see my Mistress: a smile of distinct amusement was spreading over her face, at my inability to make my pleasure last longer than this.

I was given another opportunity, however: almost before Julie had licked the last drops from my cock, the gag was back in her mouth and her bondage was being re-arranged again. With my help, my Mistress laid her face up on the bed -- or, rather, the top half of her body was on the bed, her hips were barely supported on its edge and her legs suspended in mid-air and spread very widely to convenient anchoring points on the wall. The effect was dramatic: Julie's shaven pussy seemed to be the centre of the room, and the lips of her cunt were open in an erotic invitation!

When my Mistress smilingly motioned me to take my place between Julie's legs, my cock responded to that invitation by starting to get hard again, despite having come so recently. It needed only a few minutes' caressing of the lovely body so helplessly displayed -- just for me! -- before I was able to lean forward and slowly push my fully erect organ deep inside Julie. Her cunt was tight and warm, but quite moist enough to allow me to slide in easily to the full length of my cock.

Now the climax I'd just had began to work in my favour, as I started to fuck my 'reward' with great thoroughness and enjoyment: I was able to last for about an hour, steadily thrusting in and out, slowly and smoothly at first but gradually more quickly and firmly. At the same time, my hands roamed constantly over Julie's naked body, squeezing her firm tits, toying with her nipples, feeling the smooth flatness of her belly, cupping the generous globes of her bottom, and reaching behind me to trace the lines of her widespread thighs.

Despite the discomfort of being only half-supported on the bed, and lying on her still-bound arms at that, it was clear that Julie was enjoying this too. Far from simply accepting her 'fate', she deliberately rotated her hips -- as far as she could! -- and I could feel the muscles around her cunt contracting and dilating in a sexy rhythm. She even used her fingers to contribute to the fun: the first time I thrust extra deeply, I felt their tips briefly tickle my balls -- an added sensation that I found intensely arousing!

My Mistress, too, was enjoying my 'performance', perhaps almost as much as Julie and I, although in a different way. She watched intently, moving around the bed to view us slaves from every angle, and occasionally she ran her hands briefly over some part of our naked bodies. At one point, sensing that Julie was approaching an orgasm, she whispered a few instructions in my ear: at her nod a moment later, I thrust very hard, then held myself against Julie's crotch and simultaneously pinched both her nipples with fingers and thumbs... at the same instant that my Mistress' finger and thumb located Julie's clit and worried it, gently but insistently. Julie climaxed! -- with a high-pitched whistle through her nose instead of a scream, and convulsive jerks of her body that seemed about to break her bondage!

She came again later -- this time through my efforts alone -- a few minutes before I came too. It was one of the most satisfying climaxes I'd had in a long time: partly, I think, because I was fucking a slave-girl I fancied more than some others, but probably even more because I was being granted a reward, for pleasing both Lady Anita with my tongue and my own Mistress by choosing to remain her slave. At the precise moment the waves of pleasure were breaking over me, I was intensely aware of my place as her slave , of how much I adored her and wanted to please her, and -- incongruously, maybe! -- of my sexual pleasure being 'entertainment' for her!

After my orgasm had subsided, my Mistress released Julie from her bondage and motioned me to take her into the bathroom: she also put her finger to her lips, to indicate that she didn't want me talking to Julie at all. While we were in there, she must have called the officer in charge of the unaccompanied slaves, because soon there was a knock on the door. My Mistress opened it to admit the same crew slave as before, who took charge of Julie without a word, to return her 'to quarters'.

Just before they left, my Mistress cupped Julie's pussy with her hand one last time and spoke in a loud whisper, carefully disguising her voice: "I hope you've enjoyed the last couple of hours, slave-girl, as much as I've enjoyed watching. You may be interested to know that I had you brought here at my own slave's request -- he pleased me in a particular way, and you've just been his reward! And it amuses me to think that, while he obviously knows who you are, you will never know who he is; he's under strict orders, not to let on!"

I found the same thought interesting, too, and dutifully followed those orders. However, I must have unintentionally looked at Julie in a way that made her guess the truth because, two days later, she found me alone and otherwise unoccupied and brought up the subject. "It was you, wasn't it," she asked, almost shyly, "... that I was the reward for, the other day?"

I tried to pretend ignorance, but my blush and the reaction of my cock betrayed me. Julie noticed, of course, and smiled brightly as she went on: "It was fun! That was the first time it's happened to me like that, and I loved it -- being brought out of the quarters blindfolded, then being fondled and fucked by I didn't know who! Naturally, I thought it was a Master; but when your Mistress told me you were just her slave, the humiliation was so exciting that I nearly came again! Anyway," she looked up at me, her eyes sparkling, "I hope I was a good 'reward' for you, because you were pretty good yourself!"

Before I could reply, we were interrupted by a familiar voice! "Well, well," said my Mistress drily, "I heard the last bit of what you said, slave-girl. Am I to understand that my slave disobeyed my explicit order, and you now know something that I intended you not to know?"

"Oh no, no, Mistress Tina!" protested Julie, rushing to my defence. "He didn't say a word, I swear. I managed to guess who it was, partly because I knew which deck I'd been brought to, and approximately which cabin it was, too; and then, over the last day or so, I noticed him blushing slightly and looking away quickly whenever I looked at him. Please, Mistress, you can't blame him for that: he's only human!"

My Mistress looked hard at her for a long moment before answering. She must have been convinced that Julie was telling the truth, because at last she said, in a tone of mock surprise, "Well, so he is! Funny, I've always thought of him as just a slave, and slaves aren't expected to have human reactions, you know. As for you, girl, it seems you're almost too smart to be a mere slave -- guessing who'd had fun with you by locating my cabin!

"But a slave is what you are, isn't it? And that's what you'll stay!" she went on before Julie could reply. She paused for a moment, thinking, then said, "Having used you to give my slave a reward, I've just had an idea to use you to teach him a little lesson as well. D'you know if any owner has claimed you for the next hour or two?"

"No, Mistress," answered Julie, "I haven't been told of any claim."

"Good!" was the reply. "Follow me, then, both of you!" Julie and I fell in step behind my Mistress, as she led the way back to her cabin: Julie's smile was bright with anticipation of... she could have had no idea what, and I couldn't have enlightened her, yet my own speculations gave me a thrill of anticipation too.

Once inside her cabin, my Mistress made Julie stand close beside her chair, where she could easily fondle the pretty slave-girl's nakedness with one hand while using the other to phone the officer in charge of the unaccompanied slaves. Having established that Julie was indeed 'unclaimed' for the next few hours, she registered her own 'claim': then, using both hands with the skill and casual possessiveness that we slaves were so accustomed to, she proceeded to explore Julie's lovely body even more thoroughly.

She gave her full attention to this 'inspection' for a good ten minutes before she spoke. Finally she said, "You know, slave-girl, my slave chose you himself to be his reward, because he thinks you're very pretty. I have to agree with him, too, especially now that I've seen your face without the blindfold. But he did say one thing that was quite strange, and that's why I've brought you here now...

"After he told me what he'd like to do with you, I asked him if there was something else -- as well as the things he did do with you... remember?" She smiled indulgently at the flush that suffused Julie's cheeks, not only (I suspected) at the memory of the day before, but also because my Mistress chose that moment to thrust two fingers slowly and deeply inside her. Specifically," she went on after a moment, "I asked him if he wanted to whip you: his answer went something like 'No, Mistress, she's too pretty to be whipped, and anyway, whipping is for Masters and Mistresses to do.'

"Being such a smart slave-girl," she continued sweetly, "I'm sure you could tell him where he was wrong: but, right now, I feel like spelling it out in detail myself. First, NO slave, however pretty or handsome or ugly -- or just ordinary -- is exempt from the possibility of being whipped: I'll bet there are plenty of times you've had your pretty skin marked just because you're so lovely... yes, I thought so!" She grinned at the plain acknowledgement on Julie's face.

"Second, although he was right about whipping not being the prerogative of you slaves, he was only partly right: everything that happens to slaves, such as bondage... or fondling, like now..." -- her hands demonstrated, graphically! -- "everything, including whipping, happens by the choice of owners, rather than slaves, and for the enjoyment of owners rather than slaves. But this doesn't mean that only owners actually do them: for example, yesterday my slave himself fondled you, like I'm doing now, and then he screwed you -- which I can't do, but I can enjoy watching!" Julie's blush deepened, as she remembered -- and as my Mistress' fingers again buried themselves in her cunt.

"The point he must understand," she went on inexorably, "is that, although it was a reward for him, it was I who chose to reward him, it was I who allowed him to select you, and it was for my enjoyment, at least as much as his, that I did so. And, to drive that lesson home, I've decided that your pretty skin is to be whipped: not only that, I want to enjoy the sight of him doing it -- whipping your sexy little body that he says is too pretty to be treated so."

The way this one-sided conversation had gone, I'd naturally seen something of this sort at its end: it was more of a surprise for Julie but, like a good slave, she accepted my Mistress' pronouncement as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But my Mistress wasn't quite finished...

"It might also teach you a lesson," she looked directly into Julie's eyes as she spoke, "namely, not to try and second-guess your betters, particularly when you are explicitly told we don't want you to know something. In future, you might decide that that's being too smart for your own good -- or rather, too smart for the good of your naked slave's skin!" Abruptly, she stopped fondling Julie, surprising her with two parting sharp tweaks of her nipples to emphasize the last words.

Totally ignoring Julie's involuntary yelp, she continued calmly, "Now, I'd like to know just how smart a slave you really are: or maybe I should say, how good -- how obedient a slave are you? I want you to obey my orders to pose yourself, without bondage or any shackles at all, and accept the strokes I tell my slave to give you without moving or complaining. If you don't think you can do that, I'll have him tie you up first, but then I promise there'll be at least twice the number of strokes. Well, which is it to be?"

Julie didn't even hesitate. "Please, Mistress," she said, humbly but at the same time almost breathless with excitement, "you don't need to have me tied: I'll try to do exactly what you want me to."

My Mistress acknowledged her decision with a very brief encouraging smile, but without so much as a word. Ordering me to bring her the entire contents of the rack of 'whipping' instruments from the cupboard set aside for such things, she made Julie -- and me! -- wait for several minutes, while she toyed with most of them before making her first choice. When it came, her order to Julie was softly spoken, yet almost whiplike in its sharp authority.

"Slave-girl," she said, "legs apart... bend over... touch your toes! You, boy," she addressed me, "use this on that round bum -- hard! -- until I tell you to stop!"

'This' was a large wooden paddle, and for several minutes the cabin echoed with the loud reports of it striking naked flesh, while Julie's shapely bottom steadily took on a shade of deep red. After this 'warming up', as she called it, my Mistress began frequently to change the instrument I used, sometimes only making me give one stroke with each at one time, or at one 'target': such as, several whips, from small to large, across Julie's back; canes, both light and heavy, on her bum and thighs and belly; a light multi-thonged 'cat' on her firm breasts and the insides of her thighs; and supple leather straps almost everywhere! Just as frequently, her curt orders made Julie position the parts of her body that were to be my next 'targets': bending over to present her bum, kneeling and arching her hips forward for her belly and tits, standing in a spreadeagle for her back, lying face up with her legs lifted and spread wide for the insides of her thighs, or drawn over her head for their backs, and even squeezing her breasts slightly to make her nipples protrude for a sharp downward flick with a light cane.

These last two strokes, one for each nipple -- and it took me a few misses before the cane caught just the tip, as my Mistress wanted it to -- were the only ones to elicit any sort of cry from Julie: as I'd discovered with my fingers yesterday, her nipples were particularly sensitive! Otherwise, she took the whipping I gave her with remarkable self-control: in fact, she gave every indication that she was quite turned on by much of it! I found myself turned on, too, partly by the sensations of whipping a beautiful naked girl, but maybe even more by the awareness that I was only obeying my Mistress' orders, and that I could easily be in Julie's place, being whipped for her enjoyment.

Immediately after the two flicks to her nipples, Julie was ordered to use her own fingers to squeeze and roll them -- not a little painfully, I could see -- and at the same time to stand facing my Mistress at an angle and to spread her legs as widely as she could. Then, without a word, my Mistress handed me a multi-thonged 'cat' and pointed straight at Julie's shaven pussy! Julie drew a sharp breath, but she didn't move: even her fingers stopped moving on her nipples.

"Don't stop, girl, until I tell you to," my Mistress' command was quiet but firm. "OK, boy, let's see how good your aim is: not too hard, but a sharp snap of your wrist should do it nicely."

She watched closely -- as did Julie, too, but for entirely different reasons! My first three attempts weren't accurate enough (yet, I think, quite painful enough for Julie!), but the fourth was exactly right: the thin thongs snapped precisely between Julie's spread thighs, some landing to each side of her pussy lips, some directly on them, and a few penetrating right into the gap opened by her pose. To my utter amazement and admiration, she reacted with only a long hiss of indrawn breath, holding it as if bracing herself for the next blow on this most private part of her gorgeous body.

She let it out again in relief, but just as slowly, when my Mistress said quietly, "That's enough, boy. OK, girl, you may let go of your nipples now." Gratefully, Julie obeyed, but it seemed to take her some seconds to realize that her whipping was quite over. By no means had it been severe, but there was hardly any part of her nakedness, from neck to knees, that didn't show at least some sign of a stroke that I'd put there -- and some of them must have stung a good deal!

My Mistress said nothing at all to Julie to compliment her on how she'd taken her whipping, or to me on how well I'd delivered it: it was as if what had happened was only to be expected of us, slaves that we were... and I realized suddenly that this was precisely the impression she wanted to create! On the other hand, there was no mistaking the warm approval in her eyes as she looked at us, nor the fact that she had indeed enjoyed the 'entertainment' we had provided for her!

After a few moments, she told me to come closer and give her the thongs I still held. Then, with her eyes on my erect cock, she spoke to Julie: "For a slave who said he didn't want to whip you, he seems to have quite enjoyed doing so! Come stand behind him, girl. Now you'll have a chance to 'pay him back', if you feel he was too cruel or he enjoyed it too much: put one hand between his legs and get a grip on his balls -- it's up to you how hard you squeeze -- and push the other into the small of his back... firmly!"

Bracing myself for what might have been a very painful squeeze of my balls, I completely failed to see what else my Mistress had in mind. No sooner had Julie's hand taken its grip, incidentally making my cock stand out even straighter, than my Mistress' hand flicked out and the thin thongs wrapped themselves stingingly around that most sensitive part of my anatomy! After exactly four of these strokes -- the same number of blows as I'd placed on Julie's pussy -- my Mistress put away the thongs... only to pick up a thin cane and bring it down sharply and with great accuracy, so that it flicked the very tip of my cock -- just as I'd done to Julie's nipples!

This last blow was by far the most painful, much worse than the relatively gentle squeeze that Julie was applying to my balls. Yet, such was the excitement this episode had aroused in me, especially through my awareness that my cock and balls were merely playthings for my Mistress to use -- or abuse! -- as she wished, that the pain itself seemed about to take me over the brink of a climax. My Mistress noticed, of course, and prevented it by the simple tactic of squeezing the tender tip of my cock between thumb and finger, at the same time telling Julie to pull firmly down on my balls. My arousal subsided.

A short time later, my Mistress dismissed both us slaves, Julie to return to the unaccompanied slaves' quarters, and me on some other errand. Before she did so, she made it quite clear that she would be very annoyed if we spent any more time together than absolutely necessary. Perhaps she really was a little jealous of Julie: I never asked, nor did I tell her that she had no need to be. As it happened, Julie and I hardly exchanged another word.

So ended another interesting highlight of this cruise!

I hope, dear reader, if you're a slave, that you have your owner's full permission to read this chapter; in it, I have had to refer to some events of our previous cruise that, so far, I've only vaguely hinted at. But my Mistress has told me to write what you're about to read, so I must obey -- as she says, it's not my responsibility to control what you read; that belongs solely to your Master or Mistress!

As an 'unaccompanied' slave, it was easy to lose track of the passing of the days: but when, late one afternoon, the ship berthed and remained stationary for quite some time, I counted the days as best I could remember them and guessed that we'd returned to the island where my Mistress had taken Dan.

I was in my cell in the unaccompanied slaves' quarters at the time, so I had no way of being sure of this. My guess was soon confirmed, however: a number of slaves were brought in and locked in some of the so-far-unoccupied cells, and I recognized most of them as previously unaccompanied slaves who'd been absent since I'd come here. I noticed that Dan wasn't amongst them, which made me wonder where he -- and, more particularly! -- my Mistress might be.

Then I remembered that, before she'd taken Dan to the island, she'd asked me very specifically whether I'd told him anything about the 'abduction' that she had sprung on me on our previous cruise; so I suspected that perhaps she was doing the same with Dan. This made me wonder how Brenda might be feeling, if she was expecting Dan to return and he wasn't there. I looked down the row of cells and saw that hers was empty: presumably, she'd been 'claimed' by an owner for a while, and I found myself feeling relieved for her.

It was a couple of hours after the ship had left the island again, when an officer released me from my cell and ordered me to follow him. This procedure was different from the way we slaves were usually 'claimed' by owners, and I began to wonder whether he was taking me to be formally 're-exchanged' for Dan. Instead, I found myself led into one of the larger rooms, where quite a number of Masters and Mistresses were waiting, with a tangible air of expectancy.

I obeyed the officer's low-voiced order to stand still at one side of the room and not to make a sound. Looking around, I noticed that there were only two or three other slaves present: one of them was Helen, but she was on the other side of the room with Master Paul, and all we could do was to smile at each other.

Suddenly, the room lights dimmed and three powerful spotlights were turned on, brightly illuminating the 'stage' at the front of the room. The First Officer appeared on stage, followed by a Master and two Mistresses and three slaves, one female and two males. I recognized my own Mistress and, as the slaves were each positioned facing one of the spotlights, I also saw that one of them was Dan, despite the fact that they were all gagged and very heavily blindfolded.

Now I guessed what was happening: this was exactly what had been done to Helen and me on our previous cruise, when we'd been returned to the ship after our 'abduction' and the auction that had apparently sold us into real and permanent slavery. My Mistress was allowing me to witness an identical event, but this time as a knowing observer rather than an ignorant participant.

Fascinated, and with vivid memories of my own experience and feelings, I watched the three slaves stretched into taut spreadeagles, the thorough, intimate and possessive 'inspection' of their naked bodies by the hands of their new 'owners', the announcement that they were about to meet those 'owners'... and the utter surprise on their faces as they were confronted by the same Master and Mistresses who had taken them to the island! I saw the understanding dawn in their eyes as the spotlights were turned off and they recognized the owners gathered to watch, and as the First Officer explained the trick that had been played on them.

It was with considerable interest, too, that I watched their responses to the same questions that had been asked of Helen and me: namely, whether they were willing to listen to their own Master's or Mistress' full explanation of how their 'abductions' had been planned and carried out. Dan and the other male slave said they were willing, but the female slave -- a tall, slim girl with a lovely tanned body, a mass of curly red hair and startling green eyes -- demanded that a female officer should be present at the discussion between her and her Master. The First Officer volunteered her services, and the 'show' ended.

The officer who had brought me there now led me back to the unaccompanied slaves' quarters. Aware -- from my own experience -- that my Mistress needed to spend some time with Dan, I settled down patiently to wait until she was ready to 'reclaim' me.

Before the lights were turned out, a message was passed along to me -- from Brenda, asking if I knew where Dan was (she was aware, from talking with another slave, that he and my Mistress should have returned from the island). Wanting to reassure her, but also wanting not to betray my Mistress' trust, I sent back a reply saying that I thought my Mistress simply wanted Dan to herself for another night. Brenda's response, to my surprise, revealed more sympathy for my feelings than concern for Dan -- now that she knew he was safely back on board!

Shortly after the lights were turned down, a male slave was brought in and locked into an unoccupied cell beside mine. In the darkness, and with the rule about no talking, I took no particular notice... until the lights came up next morning and I recognized him as the Master of the red-headed slave-girl I'd seen last evening! My gasp of amazement attracted his attention, and I couldn't resist whispering, "What happened last night between you and your...?"

"None of your..." he interrupted, sharply but quietly, then stopped and looked at me more closely. "You're slave Peter, aren't you? Mistress Tina's slave? She showed me a picture of you."

At my affirmative reply, he went on, "Since you're the one who wrote that diary of your stay on the island, which indirectly led to what happened last night, I don't mind telling you about it. Come closer, so I can whisper without any other slaves hearing..."

And he told me his story from the beginning. It went like this....

"I and my slave-girl are on a 'double' cruise, which meant that we'd been on the island since the previous cruise more than two weeks ago. I had read in the publicity that's given to owners, about the plan to set up arrangements for mock abductions of slaves, and I'd registered my interest in the idea. I was given your dairy to read, and it interested me even more; then I was told that your Mistress was actually there to set up the scheme, so one day I met her and asked to be included in any plans for this island visit.

"I wasn't all that sure how my slave would take it -- she's a pretty high-spirited girl, as you could probably see last night, but she really does love being my slave, and actually gets a big kick out of displaying a good deal of cheekiness and minor disobedience. But I decided to give it a try: in fact, I thought she might get just enough of a shock to make her 'behave' a little better. I was quite mistaken, as it turned out.

"Anyway, back to the story... We arranged for each of the three slaves to be 'abducted' separately, but they were all put into the same van. Apparently, my slave started screaming blue murder when she suspected what was happening, and didn't stop even when she was told her screams couldn't be heard outside: finally, they decided to gag her just to get some peace. The two males, on the other hand, were relatively calm and talked bewteen themselves about what they expected to happen to them.

"We didn't set up an auction like you had. Instead, at the end of a longish drive, the van stopped in a deserted courtyard and the 'kidnappees' were brought out one at a time for an inspection and haggling over a price. Your Mistress and the other one each did this for the other's slave, but my slave-girl was inspected and haggled over by the Slave Squad officer who came along -- in plain clothes -- to see that the three slaves were in fact returned to the ship.

"I sat in a car, hidden behind its tinted windows, and watched. This was the first time my slave had ever been handled by another man without me being present and clearly giving my permission, and I could see she wasn't sure how she felt about it. If anything, though, she was angry rather than scared, and this made me feel happier about what I was doing: I started getting very aroused, in a way I never had before, watching her being fondled by -- to her -- a total stranger.

"Her gag had been left in, of course, and she was held quite helpless by two of the 'kidnappers', so she could neither speak nor barely move, while her prospective 'new owner' inspected her very thoroughly, in a manner that was deliberately meant to seem like that of someone buying a thoroughbred horse at a sale. Every inch of her nakedness -- and you saw how lovely she is! -- was stroked or prodded or pinched by his clever hands, and especially her tits and nipples and, of course, her pussy and cunt!

"When he'd looked her all over, he and the third 'kidnapper' started haggling. This must have been even more humiliating, because they talked about my slave as if she were a thing, and argued their cases by cupping her breasts to emphasise their shape, or spreading her legs and looking closely at her pussy while they discussed its 'value'. Eventually they agreed on a price and, right in front of her, a bundle of cash was counted out and handed over to the kidnapper'.

"Now the 'new owner' asked for her to be hooded, explaining casually that this would ensure she wouldn't know where she was being taken, so there would be less risk of her even trying to escape. The same had been done to the two male slaves, and each of them were now put into a separate car and driven away: what none of them knew was that their original owners were in the cars with them! I really found it hard to suppress the urge to caress her as she sat, bound and hooded and gagged, only inches away from me, but she might have recognized my touch; but once or twice the Slave Squad officer fondled her: he even cupped her pussy with his hand and showed me that she was quite wet!

"After another drive, we loaded all three slaves into a Slave Squad helicopter and flew around a bit before landing on the cruise ship. Even through their hoods, the slaves must have been aware of the noise and the flying movements, and they must have wondered just where thay were being taken.

"Of course, you saw what happened at the 'reunion', so I don't need to go into that. Afterwards, on the way back to my cabin with the First Officer, I started to wonder whether I'd gone too far for my slave this time, but I felt that if I explained exactly how everything had been done -- and I was quite prepared to apologize, too -- things would turnout OK. But I didn't expect what happened next...

"The First Officer made her little speech about my slave and me having to work this out between ourselves, and that she was there only to ensure that my slave got a fair hearing. Then she removed my slave's gag, so that our discussion could get under way.

"My slave's first words were, 'I have one condition, otherwise I won't discuss anything: I want my Master naked and shackled, just like I am!' This was a big surprise for me, because previously she'd always accepted her role as my slave, even if she'd sometimes acted rebelliously in fun. The First Officer refused, just like it was in your diary, but my slave was quite adamant and, eventually, the First Officer decided to ask me if I was agreeable.

"By now I'd had ample time to think, and I realized that I really did want a chance to explain and apologize if necessary, and that I'd have to agree if I wanted my slave to listen at all: so I said yes. It was a strange feeling, to be stripped naked by the First Officer and shackled on my knees with my wrists behind me: with my slave and me facing each other a few feet apart, our 'discussion' started.

"The First Officer acted as a sort of chairman, giving us both a chance to say what we wanted to: once or twice, she even had to physically 'gag' my slave for a few minutes to let me have my say! Although my slave started out very upset and angry, gradually I managed to convince her that her 'abduction' hadn't been meant to frighten her badly, that I'd always been present, and that the Slave Squad had been there to see things didn't get out of hand. Eventually, the First Officer felt able to ask her whether she was willing to forgive me and continue as my slave.

"Now my slave surprised me again, saying, 'Maybe -- it depends.' The First Officer aske her to what she meant, and she went on, 'I think my Master's apology should be more than just words: if he's willing to prove his sincerity by submitting to being an unaccompanied slave for the rest of the cruise, maybe he'll get a better idea of what it's like to be a slave -- while I could learn a bit about his side, by being an unaccompanied Mistress!'

"This proposition didn't go down well with the First Officer, who reminded us of the ship's rule that there should be no 'switching' during one cruise. Seeing my slave's insistence, however, she contacted the Purser to discuss it: they discovered that no-one from the start of 'our' cruise was still on board, and eventually decided that, in a sense, we wouldn't really be breaking that rule. She turned to me and said, 'It's up to you: are you willing to abide by this condition?'

"Once again I'd had plenty of time to think this over, and only one thing bothered me. Maintaining the formality of speaking to the First Officer, rather than directly to my slave, I said, 'May I ask what she has in mind for after the cruise? If she really wishes to stop being my slave, permanently, it might as well be now: otherwise, I'd like her to give a serious promise, to try to be as we were before.'

"The First Officer put this to my slave, who replied instantly, 'Yes, of course I'll promise! I'll accept the proof of his apology, forgive him, and willingly and happily become his slave again -- although I can't make any promises about being better behaved than before!' The last bit, delivered with all her familiar cheekiness, convinced me that she meant what she said and, when the First Officer put the question to me again, I agreed readily.

"The moment I committed myself, I suddenly became acutely aware that, for the rest of the cruise, I was to be a naked slave and available to any owner to treat me as they wished! This idea was quite unfamiliar, yet somehow exciting, and my cock started to get hard. My slave noticed, smiled wickedly and said to the First Officer, 'May I add one minor condition, ma'am?'

"A little testily, the First Officer asked what it was, and my slave continued, 'That the owners who use him be asked not to give him sexual pleasure, but only to use him for their own pleasure!' To the officer's objection that sometimes male slaves can't help themsleves having a climax, she replied brightly, 'Yes, ma'am, but if they do have one without permission, they are usually punished, aren't they? I'd like this temporary slave to be treated just like any other, punishments and all!'

"The First Officer couldn't hide her grin as she turned to me and, gently flicking the end of a rope at my rock-hard cock, asked, 'Well? You understand the terms of your temporary slavery? I won't insist on this last condition, but it would be convincing proof of your sincerity -- far from the Masters' usual habit of getting their rocks off at every opportunity, how do you like the prospect of no more climaxes until the end of the cruise?'

"What could I say? I was only too aware -- and so was my slave! -- of the times I'd teased her for hours and sometimes days without allowing her to come. I agreed, of course: but I wondered whether I'd be able to hold out, the way some of you slaves have learned to!

"The First Officer released my slave's shackles, and they unlocked the cupboard holding her clothes -- unused for more than two weeks! -- for her to find something to wear. When she was dressed, the First Officer asked her, 'Do you want to take your slave down to the unaccompanied slave quarters yourself?'

"She shook her head with a smile. 'No, could you please arrange that for me? I don't see any need for me even to see him again before the end of the cruise...' She bent down and planted a long, soft kiss on my lips before continuing, '... but I give my solemn promise -- and I'll ask you, First, to see I keep it -- that on the morning before we enter port, I'll be waiting here, naked, shackled, gagged and blindfolded, ready to submit to him again as my Master, and trust him to treat me exactly as he wishes!'

"So here I am!" he finished. "I'm not quite sure whether or not to look forward to the next few days: I'm hardly accustomed to being a slave, but it might be interesting. I'll tell you one thing, though: I am looking forward to having my slave back afterwards!"

I saw very little of him over the next few days, mainly due to the fact that, shortly afterwards, my Mistress arrived to re-swap me for Dan. She appeared at the door of my cell with an Officer in attendance, and with Dan on a leash behind her; in a few moments, Dan was inside the cell and I was outside, and my Mistress was calmly thanking the Officer for the loan of one of his unaccompanied slaves. Just before she walked away with me, however, I noticed that she glanced at the slave in the next cell... and her eyes widened in surprise as she recognized him!

I saw him catch her eye and, ever so slightly, purse his lips as if he were saying, "Shh". She nodded just as imperceptibly, and said nothing to me as she led me away: nor did she mention it to me during the rest of the cruise, assuming -- not unnaturally -- that I had no idea of his identity. So it was quite a surprise for her -- one of the very few that I've managed to spring! -- when a chance came for me to reveal my knowledge....

It so happened that he and his lovely slave were near my Mistress and me as we stood on deck and waited for the ship to dock at the end of the cruise. We were all dressed and behaving like 'normal' passengers, so it wasn't improper of me to say to him, "So everything turned out OK, did it?"

He grinned and, since we were still well out of earshot of the people on shore, replied openly, "Yes, you could say that! When all the unaccompanied slaves were released this morning, to get ready for returning to port, I was taken back to my cabin. There she was, just as she'd promised: a lovely sight, on her knees where she ought to be, her gorgeous body naked and, with her arms shackled behind her, available for her Master's pleasure, and blindfolded and gagged so that she couldn't even protest at all!

"I have a suspicion that she wouldn't have protested, anyway," he gave his beautiful companion a smile full of affection, "while I caressed and fondled and teased her to at least three or four orgasms! Then I tied her spreadeagled on the bed and gave her the sort of screwing that only a Master can give a slave! We only just had time to put our clothes on, before the final warning announcement came. My cock's a bit sore now, but I'm happy!"

"I'll bet it's not as sore as my pussy is, Master!" the girl beside him chimed in cheerfully -- and more than a touch cheekily!

My Mistress had been listening to all this, surprise written all over her face. "How do you know all about this, slave?" she interrupted at last, as if to imply that I had no right to know. I told her how it had happened, and her attitude softened. She turned back to the couple and smiled, "I must admit I was as curious as all hell, but I felt it was really none of my business.

"The thought did occur to me," she went on, giving the man a quick up-and-down glance, "that I could 'claim' you for a couple of hours. I could have 'interrogated' you under dreadful tortures to satisfy my curiosity; I wonder how well you would have stood up to that... nor can I help wondering how well you might have done other things for me! But I guess I missed my chance."

"I'm afraid so," replied the man with a grin. "It was an interesting few days, but I have no intention whatsoever of repeating it -- even if it did give me a few new ideas to use on my slave! As for her, I haven't asked her how she enjoyed her 'holiday from slavery', and I don't intend to: from now on, she stays my slave and I remain her Master. I might treat her a little differently in some ways, but on that issue I won't listen to a single protest!"

"That's fine with me, Master," said the girl adoringly. "As for protesting, you know my protests only make you treat me worse, you cruel beast!"

"Watch your language, girl!" he admonished, but without rancour. At the same time, his arms went around her, his hand found her breast and -- firmly and very deliberately -- his fingers pinched her nipple through the cloth of her blouse. "Wait till I get you home," he went on, "and you'll know all about cruel treatment!"

"Do I have to wait that long?" she murmured, her eyes shining with adoration as she looked at him. He replied with a long and passionate kiss, and to the 'normal' people on the wharf they might have been any couple returning after a relaxing and pleasurable cruise!

The evening after we returned from the 'plantation' island, I was in my cell chatting with the other slaves in nearby cells. We'd been given our dinner, and the slaves who were to be 'prizes' in the day's raffle had been selected and taken away, so we had nothing to do but wait for lights out. Unless, of course, some owners were to claim some of us for the evening or night -- and they usually did....

The first call of "Slaves, front up!" came, and we all obeyed. Then I heard, at the entrance to the quarters, a voice I recognized: it was Master Paul, saying, "... but I'm giving my slave-girl the choice." Wondering exactly what he meant by this, I turned my head -- which we weren't supposed to do! -- just enough to see that he had indeed brought Helen with him, and that she was inspecting each of the male slaves, just like the owners did when they were choosing one to claim!

I had an almost irresistible urge to cry out and 'volunteer', but I forced myself to suppress it -- I was quite sure, without being told, that this would be quite against the rules and would probably get me a severe penalty. So I fixed my gaze straight ahead again and waited, my heart pounding in hope that she wouldn't make a choice before reaching me. Slowly she came closer, and soon I could see her from the corner of my eye, clearly enjoying her temporary role as an owner!

When she did at last reach me, she started in surprise and said, "I thought you...", but stopped herself, turned to Master Paul and said, "I want this one, Master."

Master Paul smiled indulgently and replied, "Are you sure? You haven't even inspected him properly."

Helen opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, grinned and turned back to me. With unashamed glee, she made full use of the opportunity provided by my pose: my naked body pressed against the bars, with my legs and arms spread wide to give the maximum availablilty for 'inspections' like these. Very thoroughly, she fondled my cock and balls protruding between the cell's bars -- and already quite hard just from the sight of her! -- ran her hands around to my buttocks, up my sides and over my belly and chest, and rolled and pinched my nipples with her fingers. She even made me open my mouth for her to look at my teeth and tongue, coming close enough that the nipples on her lovely full tits brushed lightly against my chest, which inevitably caused my cock to grow even harder!

Finally she turned back to Master Paul and said firmly, "Yes, Master, I'm sure now. This is the one I want."

"OK," he replied, then turned to the officer accompanying them. "I'd like this slave, please, gagged, his wrists tied tightly palm-to-palm behind him, and with a rope leash on his cock."

Two minutes later I walked out behind them, Helen holding the other end of the leash attached to my cock. Not a word was said, but Helen looked at me several times with a mixture of delight and a strange excitement that I couldn't identify. We went into a part of the ship that I'd never seen -- I guessed it was a section of the crew's or officers' accommodation -- and entered a room that was very obviously intended for bondage.

Closing the door behind us, Master Paul sat down in a chair across the room and said to Helen, "Tie his leash to that hook beside the door, then come stand beside me." Helen obeyed, and he ran his hands casually over her body as he began to talk to her, quietly yet loudly enough for me to hear... but not to understand at all!

"I'm not sure," he was saying, "that you made the right choice of slave for this exercise. I know how you feel about him, and I wonder if you can treat him in the way the officers would like to see. I don't want to force you to change your mind, because your performance here isn't a matter of passing or failing: but it will partly decide what sort of crew position you are offered and how much choice you might have.

"Remember, the exercise here is bondage and discipline, not lovemaking between slaves. You know by now that officers and passengers sometimes do enjoy watching a little (shall we say?) cruelty from one slave to another: don't you think you might disappoint them a little with the slave you've chosen? Think about it for a minute, there's just enough time to get another slave, with whom you might be less involved emotionally, before you need to start."

Helen was silent for about thirty seconds, glancing at me once or twice with a strange speculative look. (I was in no position to encourage or discourage her -- not only because of my gag, but also I didn't understand enough to know what I would have wanted anyway!) Then she gave Master Paul one of her loveliest smiles and said, "Thank you for your concern, Master, and for reminding me what I'm here for, but I'll stick with my choice, please."

"OK, it's your show!" grinned Master Paul, and gave her an encouraging pat on the bottom. "Now go look in the cupboards, to see where things are, so that you can find them quickly when you need them."

Helen obeyed, opening each cupboard in the room and carefully inspecting their contents. Some of them I could also see into: they contained a huge variety of bondage and discipline gear, some of which I didn't even recognize. For her part, Helen occasionally made exclamations of surprise and excited interest, looking more closely at some articles to figure out how they were to be used or even asking Master Paul for his advice.

After about fifteen minutes, a voice suddenly came through a hidden speaker: "Master Paul, is your slave ready for today's exercise?" Master Paul looked questioningly at Helen, who nodded, and he replied, "Yes, she's ready." OK," was the response, "she may begin as soon as the chime sounds."

Helen came across to me, untied the leash and held it, waiting. A soft chime sounded, and she led me to the centre of the room, then circled around me so that I had to turn slowly. She was behaving exactly as if performing to an audience, but there was no-one else there: the room had no windows, but then I realized that each wall, and the ceiling, had at least one mirror that could have been transparent from the other side!

I still didn't know exactly what was going on, or what its purpose was, but from Master Paul's conversation it seemed that the idea was for Helen to apply some bondage and discipline to me . Which turned out to be the case: for the next three hours or so, I had the unusual experience of being bound and whipped in various ways by another slave , a slave as naked as I was but free to do with me as she wanted, just like the Masters and Mistresses who usually did these things to us!

Not only was it unusual, but I found it very exciting as well... and Helen's obvious nervousness and excitement made it even more so. Clearly, it had something to do with the place she would have as a crew slave, which explained her nervousness, because she naturally wanted to 'do well' -- whatever that meant in this context! Her excitement, on the other hand, I couldn't quite explain, but it was certainly infectious!

As a slave, much more used to being on the submissive side, she betrayed a fair degree of inexperience of the dominant side: some of the bondage was really too loose, especially at first when she was probably tending towards being kind to a fellow-slave. Gradually, however, her nervousness vanished as she entered into the spirit of being a temporary -- if naked -- 'Mistress' with her own slave to treat as she wished, and she obviously started to really enjoy what she was doing to me, for its own sake!

Most of the bondage she inflicted on me was relatively 'standard', the kind of positions our owners commonly used on us slaves. But she did try some variations, perhaps inventions of her own, and there was one I remember most vividly (it featured in the 'experiments' that I was used for by an officer, which I've already related but which in fact happened later)....

Helen made me lie on a low bench, and tied my wrists and ankles to four of the many anchor rings that were conveniently hidden in the floor. My arms and legs weren't stretched at all tightly, which at first I attributed to her inexperience, but later discovered was quite deliberate! Next, she put a spring-loaded clamp on each of my nipples and several on my cock, and used cords to hooks in the ceiling to put just a little strain on them all. Finally, she did the same with two more cords, each tied firmly around one of my balls.

The strain on these cords gave me a little discomfort, but not much... until her full intentions were revealed! Looking down at me from above my head, she smiled sweetly and said, "Now, slave, I want you to use your arms and legs to lift yourself up a little from the bench." I obeyed, expecting her now to take up any slack in the cords from my nipples and cock and balls: instead, she surprised me by bending down and sliding the bench from under me!

"I wonder how long you can hold yourself up and avoid pulling the clamps off," she said in the sort of amused tone that a Mistress might have used in this situation. "I hope it's long enough for me to give your nice flat belly a little whipping!" She said the latter as her hands stroked my belly, its muscles taut with the tension of holding myself in this strained and very uncomfortable arch.

Naturally, my head had fallen back when the bench was removed, and I was unable to see her face, and whether she really meant it. She did, as I learned when the first blow -- equally invisible to me -- landed across my belly! It felt like she was using a short and fairly light whip, not hard enough to be really painful but enough to sting sharply: but even this sting was quickly overshadowed by the ache in my arms and legs as I strained to maintain my unnatural position.

It wasn't any real fear of the short sharp pain I knew I would feel when the clamps pulled off, that prompted me to hold my pose: it was rather a very strong desire to please Helen by staying up as long as I could! I didn't know whether she planned to keep whipping my belly until I collapsed -- not that it mattered very much, because I also knew I couldn't last long at all -- but I resolved to stay as long as possible.

The cords attached to my nipples were a little tighter than the others, and they pulled off when I jerked involuntarily at a slightly harder whip stroke than usual. Now Helen paused in her whipping and said, her voice sounding genuinely solicitous, "D'you want to rest on your shoulders, slave? I don't mind if you do!"

Aware that my arms were almost ready to give way, I gratefully followed her suggestion... and found that this actually allowed me to hold my hips higher, thus relaxing the strain on the clamps pinching my cock. With my head now on the floor, it also allowed me to see my lovely tormentor, and actually to watch the whip land across my belly as she resumed her whipping.

I was fascinated by the sight of her gorgeous naked figure -- her legs slightly apart for stability, so that I could see right into her pussy, and bending a little to reach me with her whip, so that her full breasts hung down and swayed sensually with every blow. This, added to my submissive nature's reaction to my utter helplessness and the way I was actually holding my belly up as if begging for it to be whipped, caused my cock to swell in arousal. The clamps, which had been put on when it was partly limp, began to lose their grip as its loose flesh tightened, and at last slipped off completely -- a strange and by no means pleasant sensation!

My cock flopped heavily down onto my belly, and I expected that Helen would now stop: but her arm came down again, and I flinched in fear that she might strike my cock itself. Instead, she changed her aim to my chest and, almost as if she hadn't noticed the clamps come off my cock, continued to ply her whip: one or two of the strokes even landed directly on my nipples, still very tender from the clamps!

Now, with my cock out of my line of sight, I could see my balls stretched upwards, and the cords tied around my scrotum under them: they wouldn't slip off like the clamps had, which naturally inspired me to greater efforts to hold my hips up, despite the strain my legs were feeling by now! I prayed that I could hold out long enough... and my prayer was answered, because Helen applied only a few more strokes to my chest, then put down the whip and loosened those cords. With not a little relief, I collapsed to the floor.

This was by far the best example of the way Helen kept faithfully to her script' of bondage and discipline, rather than any 'lovemaking'. Once or twice, however, she couldn't resist -- when my head happened to be in an appropriate position! -- pressing her pussy to my mouth and briefly exciting herself. I wondered how her 'audience' might view these moments!

Eventually, the chime sounded again, and the disembodied voice issued from the speaker: "Thank you, Master Paul, your slave's exercise is over. The committee will make its assessment, when all its members have seen her performance." ("What?" I thought. "Do I have to go through all this again for another audience, or even more?" Fortunately, this wasn't necessary, as Helen explained to me a little later.)

Master Paul was clearly quite pleased with his slave's 'performance', because he was kind enough to allow Helen and me to spend the night together in a private room. He was even generous enough to allow us a certain degree of freedom: our hands were unfettered, and the gag was removed from my mouth, but our ankles were chained, Helen's to one wall and mine to the wall opposite. There was something familiar about this arrangement, but it was Helen who identified what that was, after Master Paul left us alone.

"This is just like that night in the prison cell on the island!" she said. Sure enough, we found that the length of the ankle chains was such that we could reach each other with our hands and even with our mouths, but were just a few tantalizing inches short of my cock reaching her pussy! But we made good use of the freedom we did have, and this time it took no time at all before we were lying in a 'sixty-nine', her mouth full with my cock and my tongue lapping at her pussy and clit. Our climaxes seemed to come all to quickly, and then we settled down in the afterglow of our pleasure to chat contentedly.

We reminisced about that night in the cell on our first cruise: I remarked how glad I was that my cock wasn't as sore as it had been then, and Helen agreed with me fervently, referring of course to her pussy. A little later, I asked her what tonight's 'exercise' had all been about.

"It was part of my assessment," she said, "for my position as a crew slave. You see, the services of crew slaves are part of what the passengers pay for, we have to cater for as many tastes as possible, and some passengers enjoy having slaves punish other slaves. The committee of officers, who'll decide where I best fit in as a crew member, have been giving me exercises in a whole variety of different slave activities: tonight they wanted to determine whether I have any skill or potential in this particular area.

"I know my skill wasn't much," she grinned disarmingly, "but I'm sure I could learn. As for my potential... well, what do you think?"

"I'm not sure," I replied frankly. "Some things you did were unusual and exciting, but I think I'm biased: I'd much prefer to have you as a fellow-slave, sharing the bondage and discipline with me. On the other hand, you sure seemed to be excited and enjoying it most of the time: d'you think you could come to like it more than the submissive side?"

"Well, actually," she said, blushing prettily, "I think that had more to with how I feel about you ! Having shared a variety of experiences (including a good deal of bondage and discipline!) with you, and grown rather fond of you -- to put it mildly! -- I suddenly found it an incredible turn-on to have you all to myself, helpless and completely in my power. In a funny way, because I was expected to tie you up and hurt you a bit -- and not make love to you -- actually made me want to do it, and I enjoyed it a lot!

"But at the same time," she mused almost wonderingly, "it also seemed to make me care for you more deeply, and to make the sex we just had even more pleasurable. Can you understand that?" I wasn't quite sure that I could, but I'd be willing to go through twice what she'd done to me for half the pleasure of the sex we'd just enjoyed! My reply was to say nothing, only to pull her lovely body against mine and bury my face again between her thighs.

She moved as if to reciprocate, but I asked her not to, and concentrated on thanking her in the best way I knew how, for the nice things she'd just said. After only a mild protest, she abandoned herself to enjoying the sensations my eager lips and teeth and tongue, not to mention my hands, were giving her, and was soon writhing and moaning in another orgasm. Nor did I let up then, and she had two more, each apparently more intense than the last, before I eventually allowed her to 'come to earth' and rest, weak but content, in my arms.

Some time later, I asked, "What was that about other people having to see your performance tonight? Does it mean you have to repeat it, exactly as you did it the first time?"

"No, of course not," she replied with a smile. "My Master told me that they have pretty elaborate videotaping facilities: I'm sure our evening's fun is on tape, in full colour and probably from several angles, and the officers who weren't watching in person will view it when they're off-duty."

That image, of a videotape of my naked body being contorted and bound and whipped by an equally naked Helen, was suddenly very exciting, and my cock started to swell in response. "I wonder," I mused, "whether they'll let us see that video!"

"I doubt it," was Helen' comment. "I've learned a lot about the attitudes of the officers, while being tested as a possible crew slave, and one thing is pretty clear: slaves are for the service and entertainment and pleasure of owners, and any fun we get out of it is just a by-product of providing what we're really here for. Anyway," she smiled coyly into my eyes, "who needs to see see videos of ourselves, when we can see each other naked most of the time, and sometimes we're even allowed to touch each other!"

Her hand reached down to my cock to demonstrate, and she chuckled to find it already almost fully hard. "Now it's my turn!" she murmured, and proceeded to prove that the real touch of hands and lips and teeth and tongue are far better that a mere video! Taking my cue, I lay back and accepted her attentions: with great skill, she kept me at a fever pitch of erotic arousal for what seemed like hours before an enormous orgasm swept through me at last. Her talented mouth seemed to draw from me, along with my semen, all my strength, leaving me drained -- of everything but happiness.

We got little sleep that night (it was the night after I'd served the boss-lady at the plantation, and I'd expected to be very sleepy indeed): we talked a lot, telling each other what had been happening to us when we were apart, and we caressed and cuddled each other constantly. Helen just wouldn't leave me alone, but I didn't mind one bit! To be honest, I gave as good as I got, revelling in this all-too-rare opportunity to run my hands and lips over "my darling Helen" (as I thought of her), touching every part of her glorious sexy body, and to kiss her sweet soft lips and thrust my tongue deep into her warm mouth.

The next time I and my Mistress had much to do with Master Paul and Helen, was on the day of the "slaves' boat race". She mentioned it that morning while I was helping her dress, saying that she'd put my name down as a paddler and hers as an 'officer' and that, after breakfast, we would go and "see if we're on one of the teams."

Remembering the fun we'd had that day on our previous cruise, I was barely able to control my anticipation during breakfast. When we finally looked at the notice-board at the 'entertainment centre', we saw my name as a paddler on one of the boats, but my Mistress' as just an onlooker, since fewer 'officers' were needed than paddlers. We noticed, too, that Master Paul and Helen had been named on the other boat -- and that Brenda and Dan, as two of the few first-timers', were to be the 'figurehead' and 'rudder' respectively on the opposing boats.

Muttering good-naturedly about "lucky slaves who get to have all the fun!", my Mistress delivered me to the nominated lifeboat station, leaving me in the hands of the officer there while she went to take her place on one of the motor launches. Soon I and the other paddlers were shackled in our places, kneeling astride the narrow bar that was designed to prevent us "sitting down on the job". Then Dan and a female slave were brought, to take up their special positions at the stern and bow respectively.

The looks on their faces, in the brief moment I saw them before they took their places, clearly showed that neither of them had any idea what was about to happen. With a touch of sympathy, I remembered my own feelings in the same situation... then a very real surge of envy replaced the sympathy, as I also remembered the sheer excitement and enjoyment they were about to experience!

Obviously, from then on, I wasn't able to watch their reactions: but I did see their counterparts on the other boat during the warm-up before the race itself. Naturally, I thought Brenda looked as sexy as any attractive woman would, her naked body leaning forward dramatically to 'breast the waves' and her arms and legs tied back to heighten the effect: just as naturally -- given my feelings towards Helen! -- I thought Helen had looked even better, last time! The male slave acting as the 'rudder' on the other boat was nothing if not impressive: he had a very large cock, which was erect and swinging back and forth as his Mistress experimented with using it for steering. I also caught sight of Helen as one of the paddlers, and -- though I'd missed her name on the list! -- Nicole as well, not to mention Master Paul giving orders as the other boat's 'skipper'!

That, however, was about all I -- or any of my fellow-paddlers, except Dan, our 'rudder' -- saw of the other boat, because we won the race easily: no thanks to superior tactics or anything like that, it just happened that we were the stronger paddlers. We caught only occasional glimpses of it, after we rounded the marker launch and it was still approaching it.

As one of the winning 'crew', I got a strange thrill out of stepping over the backs of the losing crew slaves to get to the beach. The onlookers -- the Masters and Mistresses whose slaves had paddled but who hadn't been on the boats themselves -- were ashore by now, my Mistress amongst them. She greeted me with a broad grin and "Good work, slave! You and your fellow-paddlers won me a sizable bet with one of the other owners! But now I'll leave you to enjoy your victory, as your skipper decides to let you."

Just then, we caught sight of Master Paul talking with the Entertainment Officer who was organizing things: I saw Master Paul grin wryly and nod, then the officer went to the skipper of our boat, called for attention and announced, "The losong skipper has already congratulated the winning skipper privately, but he now wishes to do so publicly."

Master Paul came forward and addressed the winning skipper. "Once again," he said formally, "I congratulate you on winning the race: your paddlers were clearly better than mine!" Waiting for her acknowlegement, he went on, "I also want to carry on a tradition associated with this race, namely, that the losing skipper offers himself as a slave to the winning skipper for the duration of the picnic. So... what are your orders. ma'am?"

By the look on her face, this was a complete surprise to the winning skipper, but she recovered quickly. "Well, well," she smiled, "this is interesting, and it could be fun... if you're quite sure?" Master Paul's firm nod brought another smile, and she continued, "I guess the first thing is to get you naked, like a slave ought to be. No, don't take your clothes off: I feel like doing that myself... unless you have some objections... slave?"

These last words were spoken sweetly, but with the underlying steel that all Mistresses seemed able to command. Resigning himself to his 'fate', Master Paul obediently stood to attention while she unbuttoned his shirt and drew it off over his arms, then spent a minute or so running her hands over his chest and pinching his nipples. Then she tied his wrists behind his back before undoing his belt and letting his trousers slip to the ground: ordering him to step out of them, but to keep his legs apart, she borrowed a sharp knife from a picnic hamper and used it to nearly cut through the waist and leg bands of his underpants at the back.

Finally she returned to face Master Paul again, took a frim grip at the front of the waist band, and tugged sharply to rip the underpants from his hips and leave him completely naked. His cock, suddenly free of the restriction of clothing, seemed almost to spring up and stand erect for everyone to see. A loud "Oooh!" from the mouths of many of the slaves watching, brought a distinct blush to his cheeks... and a smile to the lips of the Mistress facing him!

"Down, slaves!" she said, sharply but cheerfully. "This one's not for you: it's mine!" Very deliberately, she spent several minutes looking Master Paul's naked body up and down, but without making any move to touch him: her inspection, as was no doubt her intention, caused his blush to deepen... as well as his cock to grow even harder! Finally she called on one of her paddler' slaves to kneel beside him and fit cuffs and a hobble-chain to his ankles -- "I don't want him free to run," she said, "but he'll need his hands free to serve me lunch!

"Now," she went on when that was done, "I've been thinking about how to reward my paddlers for their good work, and I've decided to combine that with one of the penalties for your paddlers." She grinned at Master Paul. "Weren't so good, were they? Otherwise you and I might be standing in the other's place, eh?

"At the same time, it'll be a bit of entertainment for us all. I want all the slaves from the losing boat to line up and pose with their hands clasped behind their backs: now, may I have the list of the names of my 'winning' slaves, please?" The officer who had organized the race gave her a sheet of paper, and she continued, "I'll read the names in the order they appear, and each slave may choose one of the 'losing' slaves; the chosen slaves will in turn amuse us as we're eating our lunch, by eating the slaves who chose them. Is that OK?" She obtained the officer's approval, and asked him to see to the carrying out of this plan.

My excitement had begun to rise during this little speech, and it grew even higher as things got under way: the 'losing' slaves were all in a line, their naked bodies on full display, 'our skipper' started to call the names from the list, and each 'winning' slave was allowed to walk along the line and indicate his or her choice by pulling the chosen slave from the line. The officer saw to it that each pair was identified, simply by using a marker pen to write a number on a prominent part of both slaves' bodies!

The reader may -- quite understandably! -- be assuming that my choice would be Helen, considering how I felt about her. I'll admit I did consider choosing her: but, in the event, she was 'taken' well before my turn arrived. Dan, our rudder', and the girl who'd been our 'figurehead', were the first two names on the list: and Dan showed little hesitation in choosing Helen for himself!

In any case, I was also interested in making another choice. When my turn did come, I decided to milk my 'moment' for all it was worth, by walking slowly along the line and carefully inspecting each and every slave, even the males... until the skipper told me sharply to get on with it, or I might lose my chance! Then I went straight to the slave-girl I'd already chosen. Most of the choices had been made by the chooser grasping some part of the choosee's body -- males usually by their cocks, females by a nipple or even a handful of pussy hair -- but I swept a large handful of Nicole 's long and luxuriant hair into my grip and used it to pull her, smiling and unresisting, from the line!

Now the picnic lunch got under way: as before, the 'losing' slaves had to wait on the 'winning' Masters and Mistresses, both those who had been on the boat and those who had been onlookers. In particular, the 'winning' skipper took delight in demanding the most obsequious service from her temporary slave: Master Paul spent most of the meal on his knees, shuffling between the tables of food and her side, putting choice morsels in her mouth and holding her wine glass to her lips. We 'winning' slaves didn't need to serve, but neither were we waited on: we were allowed to help ourselves, but only after the 'losing' owners, who had to look after themselves without slave service.

The promised 'show' got under way, too! As each number was called, the two nominated slaves left their eating and serving, and went into the open space in the centre of the picnickers -- for a different kind of eating! When it was my turn, I made Nicole kneel in front of me and use her skillful hands on my cock and balls until the former was rock-hard, then run them up and down my legs and over my bum while her talented mouth was busy on my cock: meanwhile, I ran my hands through her glorious long hair, lifting it and allowing the breeze to swirl it sensually over my own nakedness. Our little performance was all too short -- I could have made it last longer, but we were ordered to be quick -- and finally my orgasm came and I clutched handfuls of Nicole's hair as I arched my back and my cock shot its fluid deep into her throat.

Some people were still eating -- food, that is! -- when the last 'winning' slave-girl climaxed with the 'losing' slave's mouth deep in her pussy: but most were finished, one appetite satisfied but another aroused by what they'd been watching. The organizing officer, in consultation with the winning skipper, soon had the afternoon's activities started: the first of these was the choice, by lot, of one male and one female 'losing' slave to be tied to convenient palm trees and given a few strokes with a light whip by each of the owners on the winning boat.

The main activity, however, and the one that all the 'winning' owners were eagerly anticipating, was their opportunity to 'claim' one of the 'losing' slaves and lead him or her into the nearby dunes for more personal activities! The first to do this was naturally the winning skipper, who now touched Master Paul for the very first time, taking a firm grip of his balls and leading him away with a broad grin of anticipation. After she set the example, the other winning owners made their claims one by one as the mood took them: the organizing officer tried to see to it that as many owners as possible got the slave of their choice, but once or twice he had resolve a disagreement by drawing lots.

I happened to be nearby when my Mistress and two others were involved in such a draw... over the slave who'd been the 'rudder' on the losing boat. It wasn't hard to guess why they were all so interested: this particular slave was built like a football player, tall, broad and well-muscled, and with a cock that was abnormally large even when it was limp -- which wasn't often! He and his Mistress were on their first cruise, and up to now she had kept him very much to herself: but the idea of using him -- or rather, his cock! -- to steer a boat in the race, had seemed an offer too interesting to refuse.

To her unashamed delight, my Mistress drew the lucky straw! I watched, fascinated despite more than a touch of jealousy, as she claimed her 'prize' by tying his wrists and elbows tightly behind him, then tying another rope around the base of his huge erection and taking the other end to lead him away into the dunes. The activities of the next hour or so did little to diminish my jealousy and, when she reappeared with him in tow, the now limp state of his cock only made me reach the obvious conclusion about what had happened.

Naturally, I wasn't nearly game to ask her to confirm or deny my suspicions, but she confirmed them anyway... although not to me directly. She had hardly let her temporary slave go, when the two other Mistresses came up to her and asked excitedly, "Well, how was it?!" My Mistress smiled a satisfied smile and told them...

With me standing right beside her, she said, "He's a big strong slave, so I decided it would be best to make sure he was well bound first: I made him cross his legs tailor-fashion, and tied his ankles to each other and to his thighs very tightly, then made him get up on his knees and lean against a tree while I pulled a rope tight between his ankles and wrists. When I lowered him back so that he was lying on his arms, he was so beautifully helpless: his raised hips and his spread thighs made everything so available!

"In spite of his size and strength, he seems to be a pretty submissive slave, because this tight bondage had made that cock of his even bigger... I could hardly believe it myself," -- she grinned at the murmurs of disbelief from her listeners -- "but it's true! It lay there on his belly, looking like a big sausage, and seemed to almost reach his chin: it was great fun to sit between his knees and hold it up and use both hands to run up and down it, and it was so heavy when I tormented him by slapping it hard from side to side with my palms!

"Maybe you won't believe this, but I honestly planned to work on him just like that, and make him come to see how far a fire-hose that size could shoot," -- the faces of her listeners made it quite plain they didn't believe her! -- but I must admit that the temptation got the better of me: I just had to find out how it felt inside! I took my clothes off and lowered myself on to that long thick rod."

Now her audience was really listening, and she seemed to warm to her tale. "I did it very slowly, and I had to pause once or twice to make myself relax more, but at last I had to stop when it felt as if its head was about to block my throat! I looked down, and found that I was still a few inches above his crotch, but there was no way I could take any more of it!

"I rode him slowly, enjoying the unusual sensations of such thickness. The fact that I couldn't take his whole length meant that my weight was always on my knees and shins, resting on his belly and right on the stretched tendons of his thighs: and when I lifted myself until its head was almost out, I had to stand nearly right up on my knees. It probably wasn't very comfortable for him, but since when do mere slaves deserve comfort and, anyway, he didn't complain!"

She grinned teasingly at her listeners' impatience at this digression. "Like I said, the sensations were interesting, but not as exciting as they might have been. You see, my clit never came in contact with anything, so I stayed pretty unaroused: I guess I could have used my own fingers but, after all, this was supposed to be an objective experiment, purely for experience, you understand?" Her audience made it perfectly clear that they did not, bringing another chuckle from my Mistress.

"Well, to the point," she smiled. "When my captive came -- pretty soon, though I say it myself! -- his sheer strength enabled him to buck quite sharply, in spite of his bondage, and the spurt of juices inside me felt like a fire-hose. Honestly, I did almost regret not seeing how far it would have shot: maybe, I thought, I can bring him off again and still see it.

"Anyway, he'd had his pleasure, and it was now time for me to get some. I turned around and put my pussy on his mouth, so that he had to swallow his own juices at the same time as using his tongue on my clit. Once again, it wasn't very comfortable for him, because I took care to rest all my weight on his chest and shoulders, and not only that: as a kind of penalty for being allowed to come inside me, I gave that cock of his some fairly rough treatment with my nails, and also used a handful of tough reeds to whip the insides of his thighs, on his belly and even a few strokes over his balls.

"His tongue's not bad," she finished almost nonchalantly, "but I've had better. I did have quite a nice climax, though. Interesting, you know," her tone changed to one of serious discussion, "it must take more energy to get a hard-on and come with a cock that size, because I couldn't bring it up again: it stayed quite limp and flopped around on his belly like a big wet eel! Even my slave can usually get his hard again within a few minutes..."

Throughout this long and detailed anecdote, I had no choice but to stay close beside her and listen, because she had casually but deliberately taken a good grip on my balls. My jealousy had steadily grown stronger, at the way she described her enjoyment of something I could never give her, along with my deepening humiliation at having to listen to these explicit details. Her final remark, however, seemed to dissolve the jealousy as if had never existed: it was replaced by a swelling of inordinate pride, that she seemed to prefer me, even in one small way, to that big muscular slave with his huge cock!

My humiliation was still present, though, and perhaps stronger than ever: but now it served to emphasise the real message I realized she was sending me. Precisely by telling this story in this way in front of me, she was asserting her right, as my Mistress, to use another slave as she wished, as well as reminding me very firmly of my place -- as her slave , with no rights at all! As usual, my submissive nature responded to her message with a surge of the intense excitement that by now was quite familiar.

Later, on the way back to the ship, I was lucky enough to have a few minutes alone with Helen -- we slaves were taken back in one launch, the Masters and Mistresses in the other. I told her briefly about the events just related, and confided in her the feelings I'd experienced.

"Yes, it's a wonderful feeling, isn't it?" she responded, her eyes shining. "So exciting and humiliating at the same time. You and I really are learning how to be slaves, and we've come a long way since those first few days on the island, haven't we? Aren't you glad you chose to become a full-time slave?"

Am I ever!!

On the afternoon of the day that my Mistress 'reclaimed' me as her slave after her trip to the island, she booked one of the ship's bondage rooms for a couple of hours. She left me locked inside -- not only locked, but also shackled inescapably to some rings in the floor! -- for a few minutes, then returned with a large package under her arm.

Putting the package down on a convenient bench, she proceeded to strip off her casual skirt and blouse... to reveal what she called her 'domination outfit' -- the figure-hugging black leather costume, cut very high at the sides and equally low between her breasts and at the back, that I'd come to recognize as a sign that she was planning some serious bondage for me... or perhaps even worse! The sight of her sexy figure clad -- barely! -- in this way made my cock start to get hard -- or was it my submissive nature's tendency to get turned on by the prospect of the bondage itself?

Be that as it may, my Mistress took no notice whatsoever of my state of arousal; instead, quite matter-of-factly, she made me stand in the middle of the room, free of any shackles but with a stern warning not to move an inch without her order. Then she unwrapped the package and came to stand in front of me with its contents in her hands.

"I found this interesting bit of gear," she announced with a smile, "in one of the shops on the island. I was so sure you'd like it, that I spent an inordinate sum of money on it. Can you guess how it works?"

"No, Mistress," I replied, after looking hard, for about half a minute, at the object she held. I meant it, too: the object seemed to be a single large piece of heavy leather, with a number of holes in it and a number of rings and other attachments, but without any complex arrangement of straps or suchlike; its shape was relatively simple, but too difficult to describe easily in words, so I fear my readers will have to remain in ignorance a while longer -- as, indeed, I had to!

"I'm not surprised," grinned my Mistress. "In fact, I couldn't work it out myself, and I had to get the shop assistant to demonstrate it on the slave I had with me at the time. But when I saw how it worked, I just had to have it for you! So... let's try it on you, shall we?" She moved around behind me and ordered sharply, "Arms!"

This command, in these circumstances, meant that I was to place my arms behind my back and extend them towards her, keeping them straight. I obeyed and, a moment later, felt them being slid into a kind of 'twin sleeve' arrangement that I'd noticed as part of the object. With a little difficulty, my hands were forced through the fairly narrow openings at the ends of these 'sleeves' and now my arms were held almost rigid, although not uncomfortably tightly, by the heavy leather.

The next development was quite unexpected. My Mistress tossed the rest of the 'harness' over my head and, without any warning at all, a heavy plaited rope at its other end struck against the head of my half-erect cock, painfully enough to cause me to jerk back and cry out. But she took no notice and, telling me to draw my head down into my shoulders as far as I could, reached through a large hole in the harness to grab a handful of my hair; firmly, but not un-gently, she urged my head through that hole until the harness rested on my shoulders.

Looking down at myself, I could now see that the harness narrowed, from just wider than my shoulders at the top, to about four inches wide at the level of my crotch, and then further until it merged smoothly into the thick plaited rope that hung down to the floor. There were two large circular holes at the level of my chest, through which my nipples could protrude, and another -- narrower and elongated -- down lower: it wasn't hard to guess its purpose, but I was still somewhat baffled as to the real function of the whole thing.

Nor was my Mistress volunteering any information as yet! When she came in front of me for just a moment, she said nothing, but her eyes held the amused sparkle that I'd come to recognize as sheer enjoyment at rendering a slave like me helpless in some new way. Expertly, almost impersonally, she drew my cock and balls through the narrow hole in the harness, then went behind me again.

I felt her hand reach between my thighs, to take and pull the plaited rope back and upwards, carefully ensuring that it passed snugly between the cheeks of my bum. Then she did something that, naturally, I couldn't see and, suddenly, the narrow part of the harness between my legs was drawn tight while, at the same time, my arms in their sleeves were pulled down firmly. (Later I had a better look at the harness, and saw that it had a row of holes, edged with metal, placed vertically between the arm-sleeves from just below shoulder-level to a final one about where my fingertips would have been; obviously, she had passed the rope through one of these and pulled on it, before somehow clamping it tight.)

Returning to face me again, my Mistress now proved more informative. "This isn't actually the harness I'm buying for you," she said conversationally, as she busied herself with some thin cord in a way I didn't understand. "They lent me this one, just to try out on you and get the measurements they need to make one custom-fitted for your body.

"For instance," she went on, "these big holes on your chest won't be here. Holes like this, or even bigger, might be suitable for female slaves -- I'm sure you'd agree! -- but I've chosen to have smaller ones, so that just your nipples will peek through! And what I'm doing now is to measure exactly where they should put those holes... see?"

I did see, and I had to admire the cleverness of the idea, despite the mild discomfort it caused me: carefully fitting two clamps (not simple twin-jawed ones, but multiple-jawed ones which squeezed from all sides!) on my nipples, my Mistress then passed a length of cord to and fro between a number of hooks around each hole and thereby accurately located the positions of my nipples within the space defined by the holes. "There!" she said finally. "That'll do for a first estimate....

"And now for this," she continued, not surprisingly shifting her attention down to my crotch. In just the same way, she located the spot where my cock and balls protruded through the slot provided, passing another cord across the slot both above and below my manhood. By the time she finished, my cock was fully hard, due partly to the constriction of the cords, and partly to the casual handling it received in the process!

"Enjoying this, are we, slave?" she grinned cheerfully as she gave my cock a quick but thorough fondle. "And now... to demonstrate the real purpose of this fancy harness!..." And demonstrate it she did... for the better part of two hours!

That purpose -- which I hadn't guessed at all -- was... suspension! My first hint of this came with the whirr of a motor, as my Mistress lowered a chain from a pulley in the ceiling above my head. A moment later she hooked the steel ring plaited into the end of the rope to the chain, slowly took up the slack... and I found myself stretched on tiptoe, with most of my weight supported by the narrow part of the harness passing under my crotch!

She took her experiments with her new toy very slowly and carefully: she constantly checked the edges of the harness to see if they were cutting into me, especially in my crotch and around the holes for my nipples and cock; she made notes of minor changes that would be necessary, for example the width of the part through my crotch and the exact point at which it should narrow to fit between my bum-cheeks; and she made adjustments to the cords locating my cock and nipples, as she tried the various "angles" the harness was designed for.

These "angles" were perhaps the most interesting idea of the harness. They were controlled by which hole between the arm-sleeves the plaited rope passed through: the first try was through the highest hole, which meant that my body was held vertical and most of my weight was on my crotch, and the one-piece design was such that the rope pulling up behind my back put a downward pull on the front of the harness (and, of course, on my cock and nipples, hence the adjustments my Mistress had to make) and a consequent upward pull on the arm-sleeves (forcing my arms further and tighter inside them). Later my Mistress tried holes lower down, with the effect that my body leaned forward and more of my weight was supported by the part of the harness over my shoulders.

My Mistress kept up a fairly constant and cheerful chatter, interspersed with occasional questions about the level of my discomfort and how I was taking this new form of bondage. Thanks to this, I was distracted from thinking about where the successive stages of the experiment were leading... until she lowered the pulley further than usual and told me to get down on my knees. I obeyed, but didn't quite see the point of this, as it seemed too low for her to do things to what she called the "interesting parts" of my body.

Telling me to cross my ankles, she passed a wide strap around them and attached it to the end of the arm-sleeves; obviously, I thought, she means me to stay on my knees and wants to experiment with the "angles" in that way too. I felt her adjusting the rope in one of the arm-sleeve holes, then felt the pulley taking up the slack again... and, to my utter surprise, found myself leaning further forward than at any time before and being lifted right off the floor! Almost before I realized it, I was suspended at the level of my Mistress' shoulders.

With a hand on each side of my face, she lifted my head so that I could look at her. "This is great, eh, slave?" she said with a wide grin of satisfaction. "Remember when we tried, once, to suspend you in a hogtie by just your wrists and ankles, and found that it put just too much strain on your arms and shoulders? Well, now we seem to have the solution to that problem.

"This harness spreads the support between your shoulders, your arms, your crotch, and your ankles, and so makes it more tolerable for you. I'm such a considerate Mistress, amn't I, and I trust you're properly grateful!" She kept talking, to herself as much as to me, as she moved around me, checking the harness again: "I've always fancied the idea of suspending a slave in this hogtie pose, because it's one of the best for making you so completely and utterly and absolutely helpless, and it keeps your hands and feet so nicely out of the way.

"Unfortunately, with this harness, it's not quite the same as if you were suspended by your wrists and ankles alone, because then every part of your helpless body would be available. I've only ever come across one slave who was supple and strong enough, and tolerant enough of the discomfort, to be suspended like that. So even we Mistresses have to compromise sometimes: this harness does the main job, and still leaves your most interesting parts free for me to play with!"

She was directly behind me now and, with my head hanging downwards, I could see -- in a peculiarly inverted perspective -- her hands fondling my cock and balls. The strangeness of my bondage, plus the effects of her words and her hands, gave me an enormous hard-on: the sensation of an erection that's hanging from one's crotch, rather than standing out or up, is really quite unique, and my Mistress seemed aware of this.

"Your cock just hangs there," she chuckled, "like a salami in an Italian delicatessen! I wonder how long it would get, if I hung weights from it: I must try that sometime." She toyed with it a moment longer, but didn't let me come; before she left it alone to do other things, she slapped it back and forth with the palms of her hands, hard enough to be quite painful -- but at the same time very pleasurable!

I hung there, uncomfortable but by no means intolerably so, for well over half an hour, while my Mistress tried minor experiments and noted down some adjustments. For example, because my shoulders tended to hang lower than my hips, she decided that the hole she was using should be moved a little; she also told me she would ask for two more holes to be added, which would have the effect of suspending me semi-inverted -- "for even more variety, eh, slave?" She experimented, too, with the strap from my ankles to my wrists, at one stage pulling it tight enough to arch my back a good deal and make my ankles bear much more weight... to the relief of my crotch, but not my legs! But I found even that was bearable, with my shoulders taking so much of the strain from my arms.

I was stiff, but not painfully so, when she finally released me from the harness and took me out on deck to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine. After a session of bondage like that, during which I'd been bound so tight and helpless, I was so turned on that I could hardly wait for the next one -- and I found myself looking forward keenly to the day when my Mistress would have a harness like that, specially fitted for me!

The next highlight of the cruise I want to mention happened on the last night, after the end-of-cruise party. (I won't describe the party itself, because it was very similar to the one at the end of my first cruise; I trust that my reader(s) have had the opportunity to read my account of it and, if any slave readers have not been permitted to do so, I'm afraid that's just too bad!) When we got back to my Mistress' cabin after the party, she smiled at me and said: "Remember the last night of our first cruise, slave, and the private 'celebration' we had?"

"Oh yes, Mistress," I replied. And my cock started to get hard, because I remembered very well how she had allowed me actually to screw her -- a privilege that she granted all too rarely, even if she usually saw to it that I was well and truly bound for it, with herself in total control! But my hopes for a 'repeat performance' turned out to be in vain....

"Well, this one is to be different," she smiled even more broadly, giving the head of my cock a none-too-gentle flick with a fingernail. "Tonight is your chance to prove the skill with your tongue that so impressed that 'Lady Anita of the Plantation'! And I trust you'll impress me, too, otherwise you might be more than a little sorry!" This last was said in a tone with a definite edge to it, but the hint of a smile that stayed on her lips persuaded me that I might even enjoy 'being sorry'.

Nevertheless, I was somewhat nervous as she arranged my shackles exactly as they'd been at Lady Anita's -- just my wrists handcuffed behind my back, and a shortish hobble chain between ankle cuffs. Despite Lady Anita's compliments on my skill, I hadn't been aware of doing anything much differently, or better, than my Mistress herself had been training me for. Threat or no threat, I wanted to give her as much pleasure as I could, anyway.

My Mistress made me watch her as, less than a metre in front of my eyes, she slowly stripped herself naked. She did this with surprisingly few simple movements, but her skill was such that hardly even the most elaborate strip-tease act could have equalled it for sensuality and eroticism. By the time she stood there, smiling and running her fingers lightly over her gorgeous body, slim yet more than adequately curved, my cock was rock-hard -- with excitement, yes, but perhaps even more with adoration!

Her eyes held mine and a teasing smile played on her lips as, without a word, she crooked one finger ever so slightly, then moved back to sit on the bed. I followed obediently -- and very willingly! Slowly, almost langurously, she lay back against the pillows she'd piled up, and finally moved her lovely thighs apart to reveal the object of the task she'd set me. Calling up all the talent I had, as well as the skills she'd been teaching me, I began....

She gave me not a single word of instructions, but by now I had a pretty good idea of what she liked and what turned her on. Before very long, she was murmuring in pleasure, but I was careful not to 'bring her along' too quickly: instead, I concentrated hard on keeping the level of her arousal either steady or slowly increasing. Nor did I have to do it all by myself: as I worked with my tongue and lips -- and sometimes my teeth, too! -- buried in the curly thatch of her pussy or between her creamy thighs, I could see her hands constantly roving all over the rest of her body -- stroking her belly, running up and down her thighs, and especially caressing the firm mounds of her breasts and teasing her deep red nipples into hard little erections.

Eventually I judged the time was just right. Suddenly, I pursed my lips over the button of her clit, sucked firmly to draw it partly into my mouth, and started flicking at its tip with my tongue -- as rapidly as most of my previous actions had been slow and smooth. My Mistress responded daramatically: a low moan, that seemed to start deep inside her and almost force its way through her wide open mouth, rose quickly into a high scream of pure pleasure; her hips thrust forward, as if wanting to push her clit even further into my mouth; and, right in front of my eyes, the smooth soft flesh of her belly started to ripple as her orgasm swept through her.

It was the first of three climaxes that, I think I can be rightly proud in saying, I gave her that night! Unlike most other times, she abandoned herself completely to the attentions of my mouth -- even, I'm almost certain, forcing herself not to push me away at times and let her arousal ease a little. This meant that I was able, in a way, to 'pile up' her orgasms on top of each other: the third, which was effectively the second just raised to another level of intensity, had her arching her back as if in agony, locking her ankles behind my neck and squeezing my head with her thighs until I thought my skull might crack, and clutching handfuls of my hair as if she wanted to pull them out.

Where the first two had lasted for what was certainly three minutes or more, this last orgasm was as brief as it was dramatic... fortunately, I think, for my skull and scalp! Even the cry she made was a short, but very loud and very high, "AAH!!!" A moment later, she went completely limp, just like a rag doll, and simply lay there, panting deeply and rapidly.

I thought she may have fainted because, for thirty seconds or more, there was no reaction at all to the things I was still doing with my tongue. Perhaps she had, for just a few moments: when I drew back a little to wait for her to come to, however, she immediately murmured, "No, slave, don't stop: just bring me down, but slowly... slowly...."

It was the first actual instruction she'd given, and I took it as a signal that my 'task' was over. I knew, too, from the 'lessons' she'd been giving me since I became her full-time slave, exactly what she meant: I started to move my tongue and lips, slowly and ever so gently, over the parts of her lovely naked body that she liked to have soothed after her orgasms. But it was a long time, seemingly much longer than usual, before she was again relaxed and fully in control of herself.

"Thank you, slave, that'll be enough," she said at last. Her face was almost glowing with pleasure and contentment as she smiled down at me, and I thought, I've really done it! I've really impressed her, the way she wanted to be impressed! I'm so happy... and proud!

To my surprise, her next words completely gave the lie to the look on her face! "That was very good, slave," she said almost drily, "perhaps better than you've ever done since I started your training. But I wouldn't actually call it 'impressive' -- rather, it's getting close to what I expect from a good, well-trained slave, and there's still a way to go before you reach the standard I think we can train you to. Are you sure you did all the extra-special things you did to impress Lady Anita so much?"

I stared at her, utterly speechless. I was certain that she'd just had the most intense and pleasurable orgasm I'd ever helped her have, and here she was hinting that my performance had been unsatisfactory and that I might have favoured Lady Anita with more effort or skill than I was willing to spend on her, my own Mistress!

Before I could get over my shock, she suddenly grinned mischievously, sat up and leaned forward to plant a big kiss on my forehead. "Only teasing, slave," she said warmly. "That was really very good indeed, and I'm very very pleased with you! I never cared at all, how you'd impressed Lady Anita, or even whether you'd done things for her that you've never done for me, so long as you still wanted to be my slave and learn to please me as I want to be pleased!

"I just couldn't resist the opportunity," she went on, her eyes dancing with amusement, "to give you a little incentive, and show me what you can do when you really try! Seriously, though: if it's true that you didn't try harder with Lady Anita than you do with me -- and I do believe you! -- then it just goes to show that my expectations of you, as my slave... my pleasure-slave... my 'pussy-slave'... whose most useful attribute is a well-trained tongue, may be a little higher than most Mistresses', eh?"

I would have answered, but she gave me no chance: instead, she drew my face close to hers and gave me a long, deep kiss on my open mouth. At the same time, she reached down with her hands and, finding my cock semi-erect from what she'd just said as well as from what she was now doing with her lips and tongue, skillfully fondled it into a full, rock-like and almost painful erection.

Her hands kept doing this when she broke our kiss to take breath. Looking directly into my eyes, she said softly and, this time, with real seriousness, "Now that we've seen what you can really do with your tongue, are you willing for me to increase your training in this area, when we get home, and we might soon get some real results? Shall we say double, two hours a day? Or maybe even triple?"

With the relief I felt at that moment -- that I hadn't actually disappointed her -- coupled with the enormous sense of satisfaction I'd felt at giving her the orgasms she'd so obviously enjoyed, not to mention the intense feeling of sheer adoration that seemed to fill my heart, I think I would have agreed to ten hours a day! Just in time, however, I remembered that she disapproved of slaves trying to ingratiate themselves by asking for harder tasks than their owners expected of them, and I decided it was better to be guided by her.

"Yes, please, Mistress," I replied, humbly but eagerly. "May we start with two hours a day at first? But, if you 're not happy with my progress, I'd be willing to make it more."

I barely got the last word out. My Mistress signalled her agreement and approval, not with words but with an even longer and warmer kiss!

The next morning, of course, saw our arrival back at the ship's home port, and the end of the cruise. After getting up and showering, I helped my Mistress dress as usual, but then I also dressed myself, since all passengers had been warned that we might be well within sight of other ships or land.

After so many breakfasts and other meals, at which I had had to serve my Mistress or other owners, it was quite a change to sit at table with her and to be waited on by the ship's crew. Although they were still the same people who, like me, had spent the whole cruise as naked slaves, I found it difficult to recognize them wearing their smart uniforms. They, on the other hand, knew very well who was who between my Mistress and me: they managed simultaneously to treat her with humble servility, and me as merely their equal, but cleverly and with such good humour that it was impossible to take offence!

Brenda and Dan joined us after breakfast, dressed as "normal" people again but obviously still very excited over their experiences as unaccompanied slaves. We spent our last couple of hours aboard ship wandering around the decks, chatting and watching the nearby shipping and our own ship's docking. Despite the fact that we looked like any other vacationers, there was no reason we couldn't talk about the more interesting events of the cruise... and we did!

At last the time came to disembark -- after another tearful farewell scene with Helen! Once through the customs formalities, we packed our luggage in the cars and were preparing to set off, when my Mistress sprang another of her surprises....

"We won't be driving to your motel with you today," she told Brenda and Dan. "I've been invited to spend a day or so at the cruise company's shore base." She turned to me. "You won't mind spending the time there with me, will you?" she asked sweetly, but in tones that clearly told me I had no choice. "You might enjoy going on the crew bus: it's over there, just tell the officer your name. See you later... and see you behave yourself!"

Taking her "suggestion" as the order it was intended to be, I said goodbye to Brenda and Dan and made my way to the bus she'd pointed out. I was also certain that her last remark had been a hint for me to act more like a slave than an ordinary passenger: so, when I approached the officer seated beside the bus, I waited quietly for him to speak to me before I spoke.

"My Mistress told me to report to you, sir," I said quietly. I'd already noticed that no-one else was about, so I used the words a slave would.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Slave Peter, sir," I replied, and he checked a sheet of paper he held.

"OK, slave," he said. "You may get in and sit in the front seat."

As I obeyed, I noticed a sign just inside the door, announcing in large letters: "Guest aboard. NO talking." Over the next fifteen or twenty minutes, a number of crew members came from the ship and reported to the officer by showing him a ticket of some kind. Not a word was said as they accepted his nod to board the bus, smiling at me as they passed and taking their seats quietly behind me. I guessed it was very likely they were all crew slaves but, as at breakfast, it wasn't easy to recognize them with their clothes on!

When the bus was full, including the driver's seat but excluding a seat at the front facing backwards, the officer got in and took his place in that last seat. Still without a word, the driver -- another slave, I supposed -- started up and we drove away: and the following journey of less than half an hour passed in the same complete silence. Naturally, I was very curious as to what was about to happen: clearly, as the sign indicated, this silence was intended to keep me guessing!

At last we stopped at a gate in a high stone wall: the gate opened, we drove through, and it closed again behind us. Instead of driving on, we stopped just inside... and the officer spoke for the first time since he'd told me to get on the bus.

"Here's where we get off," he said to me. "You first, slave, and obey the orders you're given."

Stepping down from the bus, I was greeted by another officer, a woman this time. "You're slave Peter?" she asked briskly.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.

"Right, then," she said, "off with your clothes, and put them in this bin!"

I wasn't exactly surprised, but I must confess I'd thought that this sort of thing was confined to the ship and the unusual islands it visited! But I obeyed, of course: when I was naked, the officer snapped a collar around my neck, and I found myself attached by a rope to a post. A moment later she had fastened cuffs on my wrists behind my back.

By now, the others were alighting from the bus: they needed no orders, but instantly stripped naked, tossing their uniforms into another (much bigger!) bin, and submitted meekly to the officer shackling them exactly as I was. (I found it fascinating that, once they were naked, I recognized almost every one of them!) The officer was remarkably efficient and, as quickly as they were ready, she had us all shackled in two lines: my and another slave's collars were attached to two posts and, behind us, each slave's collar was attached to the wrists of the slave in front. Yet her efficiency didn't prevent her indulging in an occasional fondle of the nearest naked body!

The bus drove back through the gate and, a short time later, a little runabout like a golf car drove up from the opposite direction: its driver was a male slave, naked and securely shackled with heavy cuffs and chains from his ankles to strong rings and from his wrists to the controls. Turning the car in its own length, he reversed it close to the posts... and I realized what was about to happen! The officer unhooked the two ropes from the posts, re-attached them to two hooks on the car, and said, "OK, take them away, slave!"

She slapped some of us cheerfully on our rumps as the car moved off slowly, forcing the two lines of slaves to follow. Wondering what might happen if one of us were to fall, what with our wrists behind our backs and our collars and all, I concentrated very hard on keeping my balance. The slave driving the car glanced back very often for the same reason, but obviously all the other slaves were doing as I was, because he didn't have to stop, despite keeping up a brisk walking pace and once or twice even speeding up to a slow jog.

After a 'journey' of three or four hundred yards along a grassy lane between trees and shrubs, we emerged onto a sunlit lawn in front of a large low-lying building. As we came closer, I saw a number of people sitting in comfortable chairs under the verandah, and among them was my Mistress! The slave driving the car slowed it to a very slow walk passing in front of them, and I suddenly realized that we slaves were 'on parade'!

I didn't know what was expected of me, so I simply held myself straight as we walked by, but I noticed that the slave-girl beside me, leading the other line, seemed to drop just a tiny curtsy. For their part, the group of Masters and Mistresses seemed hardly to glance at the two lines of naked slaves as we passed -- but I did hear some comments that might have referred to us!

Once we had all passed, the car led us down to a lower level of the lawn, where a few more officers stood waiting beside the first of a large semi-circle of posts. The car stopped for a few seconds, then moved a little further before stopping again: during one of these stops, I had time to look around, and saw that slaves were being released one by one from the rear of the lines and fastened to the posts by their wrist cuffs. As I was at the front of my line, I was the last to be released -- only I wasn't released, at least not then. Instead, with only me in tow, the car returned to the verandah, and it was my Mistress herself who came to release my collar.

"Hello, slave!" she greeted me brightly. "I hope you had a pleasant trip here. Now it's time for you to meet some very important people." Leading me towards an older and very distinguished-looking couple, she went on, "I hope I don't need to tell you how to behave or how to address them, to make me proud of you."

A moment later we were facing this couple and now she spoke to them: "Lord and Lady Ruthven, may I present my slave for your inspection?" Hoping I was doing the right thing, I dropped to my knees.

"Delighted!" said the woman. "He seems to know his place well enough. Do you mind if I give him a few orders and ask him some questions?"

"Not at all!" was my Mistress' prompt reply.

"Come stand here, slave!" ordered the woman. "Legs apart... good!" I obeyed, positioning myself where she indicated between her and her companion, with my legs well apart and well within reach of them both: as was only to be expected, their hands began to run casually, but very intimately and expertly, over my naked body. They also asked me a few questions and, not having caught their full names and with my Mistress behind me and so unable to give me any cues, I decided to address them as "M'lord" and "Milady", which they didn't seem to mind.

When I told them my name, the man said, "Ah yes, you're the slave who wrote the diary of your first cruise and your visit to the island." The woman chimed in with "Are you enjoying your slavery, now that it's full-time?" and I replied honestly, "Yes, Milady, very much!"

It was a slightly strange feeling -- yet another new kind of humiliation -- being fondled like this by two people old enough to be my parents, if not grandparents! They seemed the sort of people one would expect to be very proper and to disapprove of nakedness and such-like: and they were , in their very refined speech and proper manners, yet far from disapproving, they were clearly taking pleasure in my nakedness! I wasn't really surprised when my cock reacted by getting hard, thanks not only to their hands on it but also to my thoughts of how total was my Mistress' control over me, that she could so easily put me a position like this.

My reaction didn't go unnoticed, and the man said with a smile, "It seems you enjoy being handled by old fogeys like us, eh, slave?"

Deciding that honesty was the best policy, I replied, "Well, M'lord, it's really exciting for me to feel so much in my Mistress' power..."

"What?" interrupted the woman, "Our touch isn't exciting?" But her tone and expression said that her outrage was feigned, as did her next words: "No, don't answer that, we can understand how you feel... but let me tell you, we still get a lot of pleasure from looking at and handling the younger bodies of naked slaves like you! And now, Mistress Tina," she turned to my Mistress, "perhaps it's time for your slave to join the others."

"You nearly said the wrong thing there, didn't you?" murmured my Mistress as she led me down to the lawn. "Don't worry, I'm quite sure they weren't really insulted... and I'm very pleased with your behaviour and your answers to their questions! But now I'll leave you here with the crew slaves for the afternoon's fun and games: later I have a big surprise for you!..."

She fastened me to a post in the same way as all the others -- our wrists held behind our backs with cuffs and joined to the posts by a very short chain -- before she spoke again. To me she said, "You have permission to talk quietly to these slaves; and..." to the nearby slaves, "... you may tell my slave anything he asks about." A warm smile, a quick but possessive caress, and she was gone, returning to the verandah -- but not, I noticed, without giving several other helpless and available slaves a brief fondle on her way!

I and the slaves nearby started to chat, and I learned quite a lot in a short time: that this was the headquarters of the company that ran the cruise ship; that most of the crew would be here for a week's break while maintenance work was done on the ship, leaving only a skeleton crew on board; that this afternoon's main event was a traditional 'inspection' of the crew slaves for the pleasure of Milord and Milady; that their title -- a real one! -- was Lord and Lady Ruthven, and they were the largest shareholders in the cruise company; that they owned this enormous house and its extensive grounds, which could accommodate the whole crew easily and had plenty of facilities for bondage, slavery and discipline; and that, although some officers would be taking their slaves away for a holiday, most would be spending the week here, enjoying the owner/slave activities they all loved without the responsibilities of the ship and passengers.

During the better part of two hours, the golf car made several trips, each time bringing more naked crew slaves, all of whom were fastened exactly as I was until all the posts on the lawn were 'occupied'. By now I had discovered how neatly our shackles were designed: the height of the posts and the shortness of the chain were such that we could stand quite comfortably, but it was almost impossible to turn around; it was also possible to kneel, and some slaves did so for a few minutes' change, but then their wrists were held high up their backs and quite severely; to sit down, however, was impossible -- unless one were some kind of contortionist!

It must have been quite a sight, I guessed, for the people sitting on the verandah: at least 80 or 90 naked bodies on display in the sunlit surroundings of green lawn and trees and flowering shrubs; and every one of those bodies facing them, each with tits and pussies or cocks in full view! As for those enjoying this view, finally there were about 40 sitting in comfort, all dressed smartly but casually: most had arrived on a couple of trips made by another bus, but some seemed to have come independently. Although one or two were new faces to me, I recognized nearly all of them as officers -- just as most of the naked bodies on the lawn were familiar as crew slaves.

Suddenly, Lord Ruthven stood up... and an immediate silence fell. "Ladies and gentlemen," he adressed his companions on the verandah in his beautifully cultured voice. "And slaves," he went on, turning to us on the lawn. "Welcome home to The Three Ms!

"A few of you haven't been here before, this being your first end-of-tour break, and we also have a guest slave with us: so, for those who may not know what that name means, 'The Three Ms' stands for 'The Masters' and Mistresses' Mansions'. It is our home, and it's home for any or all of you who wish to stay when you are not aboard ship: there's room for us all, and all the facilities we need to enjoy those activities we all love so much!

"My Lady and I," he continued, "look forward eagerly to these weeks between your tours of duty on cruises: they are the times we can get our fill of the sight of sexy naked bodies of you slaves all around the place; and, if your owners agree, we can also get to play with some of you ourselves! We may be getting old," he smiled, "but many of you know we can still make your slavery enjoyable, exciting and... ah... shall we say interesting ? Isn't that so?"

There was a chorus of "Oh yes, Lord Ruthven!" and "Yes sir!" from the slaves on the lawn, and there was no doubt at all that they meant it. Lord Ruthven acknowledged the compliment with a genteel inclinataion of his head before continuing.

"We especially enjoy this little gathering, this tradition so kindly kept up by the officers to cater to our little whim: namely, to inspect the ship's crew after each tour, and to satisfy ourselves that you are all fit and well -- and as sexy as ever! We'll come to that inspection shortly, but before we do....

"Sometimes," he went on in a tone that was almost sad, "this gathering is also an occasion for less pleasant matters, as we review the performance of the ship's company during the tour. I regret to say that, this time, one of the crew slaves has been accused of 'conduct unbecoming a member of the crew'." His voice was quiet, but the loud gasp from the slaves around me indicated that this must be a pretty serious matter.

Lord Ruthven gave a signal and, from just out of sight of us slaves, the golf car appeared, with a single male slave following: he was attached to the car by a metal collar and chain, much heavier than the one used on me, there were cuffs and an equally heavy chain on his ankles, and his wrists were held high up behind his back by another chain to the back of the collar. He stumbled slowly after the car until he was directly in front of Lord Ruthven, where an officer unhooked the chain from the car and made him kneel.

"Slave," said Lord Ruthven, and now his voice was vibrant with authority, "the Captain has informed us of the accusation made against you, and has told us that you are aware of it. Now, if you admit to it, there will be no need for the evidence to be made public and nobody will need to know any more about it. What is your answer?"

Humbly, but loudly and clearly enough to be heard across the lawn, the slave replied, "Please, Lord Ruthven, I'm guilty and I apologize for the trouble I've caused."

"It's good to see a slave," responded Lord Ruthven approvingly, "who is ready to admit his faults. Lady Ruthven and I will now decide on your sentence: you will remain kneeling." An expectant silence hung over the whole audience while Lord and Lady Ruthven conferred very quietly for what seemed ages, but was probably less than five minutes.

Finally, Lady Ruthven faced the kneeling slave and spoke in very formal tones: "Slave, you have admitted behaving in a manner unbecoming to a member of the ship's crew. Your sentence is as follows: one, you will be bound in a humiliating way and whipped by Lord Ruthven and myself in front of everyone present here; two, you will remain bound during the afternoon's activities, and be available for touching by both officers and slaves; three, you will spend the full week confined alone in a cell, and shackled to prevent you giving yourself pleasure; four, you will receive additional punishment twice daily from any officer who wishes to do so, privately or publicly at their discretion; five, each night you will be at the disposal of Lord Ruthven or myself or any officer we may offer you to; lastly, you will be on probation during the next cruise, under the very strict supervision of an officer to be nominated by Lord Ruthven, the Captain and myself."

She paused, as if to let the full severity of these penalties sink in; but I couldn't help noticing that she did not ask the slave if he was willing to accept his punishment. "Now," she went on at last, "since no particular officer owns you, you may beg an officer of your choice to see that your punishments are not too severe: otherwise, will you accept one that we appoint?"

The slave seemed to hesitate for a moment, then said something that we on the lawn couldn't hear. A lady officer came forward and spoke briefly with Lady Ruthven, who then announced, "Very well, this officer has agreed to your request, which has effectively made her your owner for the week of your sentence: she will see to your confinement, and you will accept without complaint whatever restraints she chooses for you; she will either give you your twice-daily punishments herself, or hand you over to other officers who wish to assist her, and her approval of your punishments will be final, without appeal from you; and the first approval she will give, is for the public penalty we propose now!"

During this formal little speech, I watched the officer: she was looking down at the slave who was now in her charge, and her expression was a mixture of excitement, anticipation and... yes, glee! I wondered for a moment whether the slave might come to regret his request, but somehow I had the feeling that he might find himself quite enjoying the week ahead, despite the apparent severity of his 'sentence'.

Lord Ruthven, Lady Ruthven and the officer now turned their backs on the slave for a minute or so, obviously conferring in low voices so that he would not be able to hear. Then the officer, with the assistance of two others, arranged the slave for his first penalty: leading him down to the lawn, they placed him in the exact centre of the semicircle of slaves, removed his collar and wrist shackles and made him lie on his back with his head towards us. Next they stretched his arms above his head in a wide Vee and fixed his wrists there with what could best be called 'stakes'.

In view of how they were used later, a little more detail of these 'stakes' would be appropriate: made of metal, they were more than three feet long, the lower half of which consisted of sharp double spikes. These were placed on each side of each of the slave's wrists, then hammered into the ground until those wrists were held down -- inescapably but not painfully. The upper part of the stakes formed two posts, the purpose of which soon became clear: releasing the slave's ankles from the metal cuffs and refastening them into padded cuffs, each attached to a pole about four feet long, the officers then lifted his legs high, pulled them over his head and pushed the free ends of the poles into sockets in the stakes holding his wrists.

The poles must have been made of flexible but strong steel; although they bent under the weight, they still held the slave's legs well up and widely spread. He now rested on his shoulders, and his naked body was arched in a most vulnerable and shaming pose; between his spread thighs, his crotch pointed at the open sky; his cock, in a state of semi-erection, dangled down over his belly as if trying to reach its owner's face; and his bum, obviously, was totally available for the whipping I felt certain was to come.

Lord and Lady Ruthven now came down to the lawn, spent a moment inspecting his bondage, then took up their positions with short whips in their hands. The target, however, was not his bum: instead, with great skill and accuracy, they methodically whipped his legs from ankle to crotch. We other slaves, watching with interest, could see the action from various angles -- the two arms swinging up and down in time with each other, or the whips curling around the slave's legs -- but the slave himself would have seen only the arms appearing between his legs, just before the whips snapped down!

They started just above -- or, since his legs were inverted, below -- his ankles, both whips landing at the same time, and steadily worked their way towards his crotch. Part way there, and without missing a beat, they began to alternate their blows to ensure their whips would not get in each other's way. The slave took his whipping well, only grunting once or twice as the weals marched side-by-side along his calves and then along his thighs: but the grunts grew more frequent and louder as the whips landed on the tender flesh of his inner thighs close to his crotch. The final few strokes brought the loudest cries, but perhaps this was less from actual pain than from fear of what might happen: these fell almost vertically, striking first the tautly stretched tendons at the join of his legs and crotch, missed his balls by the tiniest of margins and snapped down his belly parallel to his hanging cock and only inches away from it!

Finally the whipping stopped, and Lord and Lady Ruthven came to stand at the sides of the slave where they could look down into his face. "You've taken this part of your sentence well," said Lord Ruthven, "and we trust you will take the rest in the same way. By its end, we're sure you will really understand how seriously we take our slaves' proper behaviour. Now, there's more to come of this afternoon's punishment...."

He raised his voice to include all the watching slaves. "When you other slaves are freed from your posts, you have our permission to come and touch this slave in any way you like!" To the slave at his feet, he went on, "Your caretaker officer will stay nearby, to see that no-one gets nasty and really hurts you. The real lesson for you is to suffer the deepest humiliation, of being handled and teased and so on by mere slaves like yourself -- and this pose does make your naked body so nicely available! -- and we trust you will learn better the humility we expect towards owners." As he spoke, he and his lady both ran their hands up and down his taut legs, then all over his bum, crotch, cock and balls.

"And now," said Lady Ruthven, "it's time for us to give our attention to all these other slaves, who we know have behaved properly on the cruise!" She and Lord Ruthven each went to one end of the crescent of shackled slaves, then made their way towards the centre: they spent a minute or so with each slave, chatting as well as fondling the naked bodies made so available by the nature of their shackles. To some they gave just a pat or two, others they handled thoroughly and intimately, and they seemed to know every slave by name.

As for the slaves, they seemed really to appreciate this attention: Lord and Lady Ruthven may have been well past middle age, but it was clear that they both still knew how to make their caresses interesting and exciting. I happened to be on the half of the crescent 'handled' by Lord Ruthven, and I can vouch for the murmurs of pleasure from nearby female slaves as his hands roamed over their tits and bums, played with their nipples and crept between their thighs. And when he reached me, I found his touch as skilfull as a very experienced woman... and as arousing!

Behind them followed two officers, who released each slave from his or her post. The first few were sent into the house and began to bring out trestle tables, tablecloths, plate after plate of delicious-looking food, bottles of wine and elegant glasses: by the time all the slaves had been 'inspected' and released, all was ready for the very pleasant 'garden party' that occupied the rest of the afternoon. It had a style that was in keeping with the genteel manner of Lord and Lady Ruthven -- except for the one glaring incongruity, that hardly anybody but I seemed to notice: although some of the 'guests' were wearing the appropriate clothing, at least two-thirds were stark naked!

The atmosphere was quite different from that aboard the ship, because all the slaves were free to wander about and mix with the officers, chatting with them almost as equals. Almost, but not quite! There were still subtle but definite distinctions, beginning of course with their respective states of un/dress: some areas were clearly 'reserved' for officers, and no slave entered them; officers occasionally fondled slaves as they chatted, but never vice versa (yet it seemed to happen only when the slave 'invited' it); and slaves served officers with food and drink, but this too appeared voluntary, without any orders being given.

Soon after I was released from my post, my Mistress took me 'under her wing': I appreciated this, because we were the only real guests present, and without her guidance I would have been unsure of what was expected. We ate and drank and chatted with a number of officers and slaves, and in short enjoyed ourselves as we would have at any garden party.

I was fascinated by the one exception in this crowd of eating, drinking and cheerfully chatting people: the helpless figure of the slave who'd been punished earlier. In a way, of course, his punishment was still going on, and I got my Mistress' permission to watch for a while, as quite a few slaves took advantage of the offer Lord Ruthven had made. Under the watchful eye of his 'caretaker', they tickled, stroked and pinched his naked body, ran their nails gently over the tender weals on his legs, and especially fondled his bum and crotch and cock and balls, all helplessly suspended at such a convenient height. A few female slaves teased him even further by crouching or kneeling over his head, putting their pussies within inches of his face while they caressed his cock.

Having gained some idea of what was allowed, I asked my Mistress if I might take my turn too: her reply sounded almost surprised, "Of course -- go right ahead!" So I had the opportunity to enjoy the strangely exciting sensation of touching that helpless slave in any intimate way I wanted, my hands exploring his captive and utterly vulnerable nakedness. I discovered, however, that what really turned me on was imagining myself , as it were, in his shoes!

After a couple of hours or so, the garden party began to break up. Some officers and their slaves -- now dressed -- drove away, for private holidays or to visit other friends during the week's break between cruises. Without any signal that I noticed, the relative freedom we slaves had enjoyed seemed to end quite suddenly, with officers issuing orders for the tables to be cleared away. My Mistress led me into the enormous house, to the room assigned to her for our stay.

It was a very comfortable guest-room, with deep carpet and a window over-looking a pleasant garden. However, I wasn't in the least surprised to see more than a few solid-looking rings fixed strategically in the floor, walls and ceiling. The bed, I noticed, was easily large enough for two, and there was no sign of the kind of slave pallet I'd become rather used to. My Mistress saw me looking at the bed and smiled, guessing at my thoughts.

"I'll have to decide where to let you sleep tonight, won't I?" she said. "On the bed... or on the floor, the carpet should be quite soft enough for you... or maybe..." -- she slid aside a panel in the wall -- "... in here!" Behind the panel was the heavily barred entrance to a cell, big enough to stand up in but with a floor area too small to lie full-length: somehow, I felt I didn't need to guess what she would choose!

After spending the afternoon in the sun, she wanted a bath: as usual, I had to help her undress and then bathe her in the luxurious bathroom provided. As I was gently patting her dry afterwards, she said conversationally that the sight of all us slaves on display, shackled to our individual posts, had really turned her on, and that the pleasure of a bath with a naked slave to wash her had added to her arousal. Nothing more needed to be said and, when she lay down on the bed and spread her legs ever so slightly, I took the hint and began to use my lips and tongue as she'd been training me.

Two or three gentle, but obviously very enjoyable, climaxes later, she told me to go take a shower myself while she dressed. When I returned from the bathroom, she was wearing an outfit that, while casual, was so smart as to be almost formal. Now, for the first time since my release from my post before the garden party, she shackled me again -- my arms behind my back wrist-to-elbow, a chain between my legs to a cock-ring, and a fifteen-inch hobble chain between ankle cuffs.

There was a knock at the door, and my Mistress opened it... to reveal Master Paul standing outside. I suddenly realized that I'd been so distracted by the day's events, that I'd forgotten all about Helen: obviously, she must be here somewhere, and I now started to wonder what she'd been doing and why she wasn't with Master Paul. I knew better than to ask any questions without permission, and neither my Mistress or Master Paul seemed about to enlighten me: however, I did learn a good deal quite soon.

They went to a small, comfortable lounge, where they were served drinks by a crew slave. I was made to kneel between their chairs and, as well as the odd casual caress, I was even given a few sips from their glasses while they chatted. It turned out that the reason we hadn't seen Master Paul or Helen at the garden party was that they had been finalizing the details of their becoming employees of the Company that owned and ran the cruise ship.

As for Master Paul himself, these details involved his salary and the repayment of the loan my Mistress had made to him, as well as his duties as an officer. As for Helen, the details were quite different, and hardly what would normally be termed 'employment': they had spent some time with the Company's lawyers, drawing up and signing her formal -- if maybe not legally enforcable -- submission into crew slavery, involving matters like the limits on her treatment, and so on. Master Paul showed his great pride in the level of committment that Helen had agreed to: "She asked for hardly any limitations on how she could be treated," he said, "and none at all on any punishments for real misbehaviour or disobedience. 'If I disobey,' she told them, 'I'll deserve whatever punishments my Master or any other officer thinks is proper'.

"And when it came to deciding the term of her slavery," he went on, fairly glowing with pride, "she insisted that it's dependent only on how long I am employed as an officer! The lawyers had to work hard to persuade her even to put a 'period of non-negotiation' in the agreement: eventually we settled on a full year, which I gather is longer than most slaves agree to, during which the conditions, limits and so on of her slavery are fixed; after that, there'll be another meeting, where she may ask for her conditions to be changed -- but not , mind you, for her slavery to end. She was adamant that that is my decision alone, and she said she hopes I never make it!

"Just between you and me," he grinned at my Mistress, "I think the lawyers were just a little turned on by the way she behaved: insistent and yet so beautifully humble, and the adoring way she looked at me...! I must admit she turned me on: for a while there, I was almost afraid I'd make a mess inside the trousers of my nice new uniform. How d'you think I look, by the way?" He stood up to let my Mistress and me admire it, and pointed out something I hadn't noticed before: although it was new and very smart, it bore no insignia of rank or anything like that.

"This wait is making me nervous," he said as he sat down again. "I wonder when they'll ask me to come in for the formalities." It was then that I realized exactly why my Mistress had been invited here: it was as Master Paul's guest at his official start as an officer, and Helen's as a crew slave!

As it happened, we didn't have long to wait. A lady officer came in and politely requested Master Paul -- "and your guest" -- to come with her. I made to stand up, too, but my Mistress stopped me with a gesture: "This part is for officers only," she said with a smile, "and I'm only an invited guest. You'll have to stay here and wait until I fetch you, when the other slaves are allowed in." She clipped a chain that was hanging from a hook in the wall, to my wrists and went on, "Make yourself comfortable, but not on the chairs: in this room, those are for Masters and Mistresses only."

I waited there for at least an hour, with no way of escaping -- although I knew the chain on my wrists wasn't locked in any way. My wait was made tolerable, however, when the slave waitress came in to clear the glasses and stayed to chat for quite a while. "There's nothing much to do, anyway," she told me, "with all the officers in the meeting, and no slaves allowed in, even to serve drinks!"

She was a pretty girl and pleasant company, even without the pleasure of feasting my eyes on the curves of her naked figure. I asked her if she knew what was happening in the meeting: she replied, "No, except that Master Paul is being commissioned as an officer". As to what would be happening later, when slaves would be present, "Yes, I've been there," she said, "but I'm not going to tell you anything. Surprises are so much more fun, don't you think?" A lovely smile accompanied this last, and I had to smile in agreement.

At last my Mistress returned, and led me into a large room, where about forty or fifty officers were sitting at small tables arranged around the walls. She sat down at one of these, motioning me to kneel nearby. For several minutes there was a stream of slaves entering through several doors: some took their places, like me, beside certain officers, while others knelt in neat rows in the space between the tables; eventually there must have been at least a hundred of them, and some I was certain I hadn't seen before.

Eventually, Lady Ruthven stood up from a table at one end of the room, mounted a small platform there, and said, "Slaves, welcome to the commissioning of a new officer. I think most of you already know him; however, I now formally present him -- Officer Paul!" From the table she'd just left, Master Paul joined her on the platform, his uniform now carrying the badges denoting his rank and responsiblities.

As he faced the room, Lady Ruthven's hand made a signal. In unison, all the crew slaves chorused, "Welcome aboard, Officer Paul. We are at your service, and we promise to obey your orders."

"A nice welcome from the crew, don't you think?" Lady Ruthven asked Officer Paul. "Would you like to say something in response, to all the crew slaves?"

"Yes, if I may," said Officer Paul. "Thank you, slaves, for your welcome. I'm sure I'll enjoy being an officer on a ship with such a fine crew, and I especially look forward to some... ah... more personal contact with many of you!"

"Well spoken!" was Lady Ruthven's comment. "In fact, you'll have an opportunity (briefly!) for more personal contact with all the crew slaves here this evening -- right now! Stay here on the platform, please, and they will come forward in turn: the first will formally make the crew slaves' promise to you as an officer, but to save time the others will simply kneel to symbolize his or her own making of that promise. However, if you wish any individual slaves to convince you of their sincerity, you may ask them to repeat the promise in full. You may also take immediate advantage of the final part of the promise, but I suggest that there'll be plenty of time for that in the future."

She stepped down from the paltform. This seemed to be a cue for the nearest crew slave to step forward, kneel on the edge of the platform in front of Officer Paul, and say, "I'm crew slave Barbie, Sir. I promise to obey you, as an officer. If I cannot do so, because of any previous order given to me by another officer, which may override yours according to Ship's Regulations, I will respectfully refer you to that officer for confirmation. I am aware that any disobedience of your orders, when the running of the ship or the enjoyment of the passengers is concerned, will be punishable as determined by Ship's Regulations, or by the Captain or First Officer: any other disobedience will be punishable as decided by you. When I am off-duty, my naked body will be freely available to you -- subject to the agreement of my owner, Officer Norman -- for any treatment you may wish, within the limits set down in Slave Regulations or recorded in my Slave file. At all times, with no exception but urgent ship's business, I will submit my naked body for your inspection and handling."

Here Lady Ruthven's voice came in smoothly: "If you wish to avail yourself of this final offer, simply make the 'stand up' gesture; otherwise, or after your inspection, give the signal to dismiss the slave. Each following slave will state his or her name and wait for these signals."

It was no surprise, since this was the very first slave, to see Officer Paul give the 'stand up' gesture: instantly, the slave -- a very shapely black-haired girl -- stood up, spread her legs a little and clasped her hands behind her neck in the so-familiar pose. Officer Paul spent ten or fifteen seconds cupping his hands possessively over her large breasts and rolling their nipples in his fingers; then he gave the dismissal signal and she went back to her place, only to have her place in front of him taken by the next slave.

Officer Paul obviously enjoyed himself enormously, having so many naked slaves in turn kneeling at his feet to signify their submission and their implied promise of obedience, then -- if he wished -- displaying themselves and accepting the inspection of his eyes or the touch of his hands. He didn't waste time -- there were a lot of slaves to get through -- but occasionally he made a slave repeat the formal promise, word for word, or fondled a female slave's tits or pussy or a male slave's cock or balls.

His audience of officers and slaves enjoyed watching this 'ceremony' too, while chatting softly to each other and sipping drinks served by slaves not waiting their turn to kneel and submit to him. I must say I enjoyed it, and not only what my eyes saw: part of my enjoyment came from the excitement of imagining myself as one of the slaves making this promise of obedience. Somehow, my Mistress seemed to read my thoughts, because she asked me if I was feeling left out: I replied, "Yes, Mistress, in a way; but at the moment I'm quite happy to remain your slave alone"... which I think pleased her a little!

When the last slave had performed in this ritual, Lord Ruthven stood up and said cheerfully, "Well, Officer Paul, now that you've met all the crew slaves that are here at the moment, you may like to rejoin your fellow-officers and your guest. But before you go, I should mention that we have a small tradition to make new officers feel welcome: you are free to choose any slave that takes your fancy, to spend the night with tonight -- with their owner's agreement, of course, but we tend to frown on that being witheld. Take your time to decide, of course, and just let me know if you'd like to have another look at one or two who interest you."

My Mistress greeted Officer Paul with a smile as he returned to her table and sat down. "It must feel good," she said, "to have all these slaves promising their obedience -- and their bodies -- to you. And your choice of wenches for the night, too! Any idea which you'll choose?" Their light-hearted banter went on, but over my head, because I'd just realized that Helen wasn't with Officer Paul: I wondered where she could be, but I very soon found out.

After a short delay, Lord Ruthven stood up to make another announcement: "Now we come to the next part of tonight's ceremonies, no less important than the one just completed and in some ways even more fun. Today we are accepting two new slaves for our crew..." And from behind a curtain beside the platform, two officers led out, by means of leashes and collars, two figures, one male and one female.

I recognized Helen, despite the large blindfold covering much of her face. The male was also blindfolded, and they both had their arms held stiffly behind their backs, with their wrists and elbows strapped tightly and with chains leading from their wrists to short hobbles and ankle cuffs. I was a little surprised to see them both dressed -- Helen in a simple white gown covering her from neck almost to ankles, the male in plain white t-shirt and trousers -- but I guessed they wouldn't be staying that way for long!

Nor was I mistaken. Helen and her companion were made to face the audience, now quiet and watching with intent interest, and Lord Ruthven spoke to them in his cultured voice. "I am speaking to two candidates who are standing blindfolded in front of me; I say this so that you can have no doubt that what I say refers to you. You don't know exactly what is about to happen to you, but you should have a pretty good idea: if so, and if you are willing to submit to it, I want you to say, 'Yes, sir'."

Immediately, and almost as if they had rehearsed it, Helen and her companion gave the requested reply. "Good," said Lord Ruthven approvingly, "now...", and he nodded to the officers who accompanied each 'candidate'. The officers produced large wicked-looking knives and, grasping their charges' clothing at the neck, gently touched the points of their knives to the skin of their charges' throats; then, in what seemed like a single stroke of the obviously very sharp knives, they skilfully slit their clothing down the front from top to bottom.

The male's t-shirt was pulled open first, revealing just his chest; but then Helen's dress was pulled aside to show the whole of her gorgeous body, with the minimal coverings of bra and brief panties. Quickly, the officers slit the sleeves of her dress and his shirt to remove them completely, then went on, in Helen's case, to insert the knife between her tits and remove her bra with one sharp tug, and in the male's case, to slit his trousers open down both legs and the front, rendering him naked except for brief underpants. With a fine sense for the theatrical, the other officer had waited, so that they both 'attacked' one last item of clothing at the same time.

Carefully, and with dramatic slowness, each knife was inserted down the front of each pair of briefs, until its full length was between each set of private parts and their last coverings: in Helen's case, I could clearly see, it was easy simply to slide the blunt side of the knife right down the slit of her pussy until its tip actually pierced the briefs well between her legs; but the other officer had to be careful to avoid the bulge of her subject's cock, now starting to swell, and his balls! Both officers paused when they were ready; then a sharp yank slit both briefs wide open, followed by two more very skillful moves to cut the leg bands, and the briefs simply fell off.

Both 'candidates' were now totally naked, but the officers weren't finished yet: inserting the knives between Helen's and her companion's legs, they used the flat sides to tap gently but insistently on the insides of their knees, until both had spread their legs as far apart as their hobbles allowed. The effect was dramatic, because the chains from their wrists to their hobbles were short enough to make them both arch their shoulders back and their hips forward. The officers stood aside, and the naked bodies of the two candidates' were displayed for all to feast their eyes on.

As always, Helen's body was a feast for my eyes, but now it seemed to look even better: it had clearly been bathed, powdered and even 'made up' to accentuate her sexy curves, her pussy hair had been trimmed to a neat shape, and her nipples were tinted a deep glossy red. She looked magnificent! At the sight of her, my cock started to get hard -- and I strongly suspect that many other cocks in the room did too, owners' and slaves' alike. Being heterosexual, I wasn't affected at all by the naked male body beside Helen, but I did happen to notice my Mistress' eyes dwelling intently on it, and I guess I could understand why: he was well-built and well-muscled but lean at the same time, with a deep even tan with no pale patches at all; interestingly, his pubic hair was completely shaved, making his fairly large cock appear even bigger as his erection lifted its head to point over the heads of the audience.

Lord Ruthven waited for a minute or so to let everyone look their fill, then he spoke again. "Well, candidates, your outward appearance is not at all bad! Now I'll speak to you individually; when you are touched, you will answer the questions put to you and obey my instructions exactly." Stepping in front of Helen, he put one hand on one of her breasts, cupped her pussy with the other, and began a series of questions.

"Who are you?" was the first.

"Slave Helen, sir," was the slightly quavery reply.

"Who owns you, slave?"

"Master Paul, sir."

"He has another title now -- try again."

"Er... Officer Paul, sir?"

"Right. Now, why are you here?"

"My Master... er... my owner wants me to become a crew slave."

"Are you here only because your owner wishes it?"

"No, sir. I want it too."

"Good. Now, before we can accept you as a crew mamber: have you read and understood the rules for crew slavery?"

"Yes, sir."

"And have you signed, without coercion and of your own free will, a legal agreement, defining the term, conditions and limitations of your slavery?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you prepared to stand by that agreement, and accept all its conditions without any complaint until its term is over?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. You will now kneel in front of me and say, loudly and clearly, the formal submission to slavery and your promise of total obedience, in the words you have memorized. You will say them to me, as the major shareholder in the Company that owns the ship you will serve on, and therefore as its most senior officer, if not on active duty: but remember, by saying them to me, your submission and your promise will apply to all officers, from the Captain down. Begin." While he spoke, the officer beside Helen helped her gently to drop to her knees.

Helen's voice was much firmer now, and it carried clearly to the furthest corners of the room. "I, slave Helen," she said, "hereby offer myself for slavery, as the property of the Company and to serve on the crew, as defined in the agreement I have signed. I promise to obey your orders, and those of all officers of the Company, unless I have been given other orders overriding them, according to Ship's Regulations. I understand that any misbehaviour or disobedience on my part will incur punishment, which I will accept as I deserve. When off-duty, my naked body will be the property of the Company's officers, collectively and singly, and therefore will be available for any treatment an officer may choose to give me, subject to the agreement of my owner, Officer Paul, and to the limits recorded in my Slave file. At all times, off-duty or on, where it does not affect the running of the ship, my naked body will be available for inspection and handling by any Company officer who wishes it."

At the end of this little speech, so well spoken, Lord Ruthven paused for what seemed like ages bafore he replied. "Good," he said, and his rich voice was warm with approval. "I now formally accept you, crew slave Helen, as a slave member of this Company. My first order is: stand and offer your lovely naked baody for my inspection and enjoyment."

With the help of the officer beside her, Helen regained her feet and, without any prompting, again spread her legs as widely as she could. Lord Ruthven took several minutes to thoroughly 'inspect' her slightly arched nakedness, running his hands over her full firm tits, her belly, hips, bum and thighs, and finally using the fingers of one hand to roll her nipples and of the other to explore her pussy and clit.

"Yes," he said finally, approval and anjoyment in every tone, "you are indeed a valuable addition to the ranks of our crew slaves. Now, my next order is: you will be led to stand in front of each officer present tonight, where you will kneel and say simply that you, slave Helen, offer your total obedience to his or her orders as an officer, and your body for his or her enjoyment."

Helen was breathing quite quickly after the attentions of his clever hands, but she replied humbly, "Yes, sir," before following the tug on her leash, to step down from the platform and begin her tour of the room. Each officer, male and female alike, had her lovely body placed before him or her, on her knees to say the words she'd been told; and very few could resist the second offer, when she stood up again to arch that glorious body of hers.

Meanwhile, Lady Ruthven was seeing to the male 'candidate'. Taking a firm grip of his cock, she asked essentially the same questions as Lord Ruthven had asked Helen: his answers were almost identical (he gave his name as Ernie) but he said that he had no owner and wished to join the Company as an unattached slave. When the questions finished, he knelt to make the same submission and promises as Helen had (but leaving out the bit about the owner's agreement!), then submitted to a similarly skilled fondling by Lady Ruthven. By the time his tour of the room began, his cock was bigger and harder than ever -- but it seemed that all the officers were clever enough not to let him come as, interspersed with his kneeling 'offers', they practically 'handed' him from one to the next by his cock!

With both Helen and Ernie, though, they constantly varied their 'treatment', so that the two blindfolded new crew slaves never knew whether their nipples would be pinched, their bums caressed or perhaps slapped, or (in Ernie's case) his cock stroked or his balls fondled or even squeezed, or (in Helen's case) the shape of her large tits explored or her pussy hair ruffled or her clit tickled with a fingertip or even one or more fingers thrust deep into her cunt! Sometimes -- but not often! -- they weren't touched at all: not, I was certain, because the officer concerned wasn't interested, but rather just to play the game of keeping the slaves guessing. After all, they all knew there would be no lack of opportunities in the future to play with these new additions to the ranks of naked playthings!

Officer Paul, too, joined in this spirit. When Helen, clearly unaware that she'd just knelt before her own Master and offered her obedience and so on, stood up again, he merely flicked one finger lightly on a nipple and then nodded to the officer to move Helen on. With Ernie, on the other hand, he took great pleasure in sampling the unusual sensations of his totally hairless crotch and cock and balls.

The officers, who were leading the two new crew slaves around the room, recognized my Mistress -- no doubt by her lack of a uniform -- as a guest, and therefore bypassed her, with apologetic smiles. She understood the reason for this, naturally; and she compensated for having no chance to get her hands on Helen's and Ernie's naked bodies, by fondling me constantly, intimately and thoroughly -- but, of course, never letting me come!

Finally, the rounds of the room were completed: the new crew slaves were led back to the platform, where they were made to kneel one last time to make the same promise and offer to the two officers who'd been 'escorting' them. And this time, when they stood again to present themselves for 'inspection and enjoyment', the offer was taken up with much more thoroughness and persistence.

The audience watched avidly as the officer's hands steadily aroused them. A soft and rythmic clapping began, which grew slowly louder as the two slaves approached their inevitable climaxes, and an enthusiastic cheer erupted when first Helen cried out and arched back even further in ecstasy, then Ernie echoed her cry as his cock shot its load of white fluid. It wasn't hard to see the message being driven home: if you keep your promise to obey, and freely offer your naked bodies for officers' enjoyment, you will also have your reward.

Before either of the slaves had time to 'come down', their shackles were quickly exchanged for a different kind of bondage: first, their ankle hobbles were released, but their legs were spread much more widely and fastened to rings in the platform; next, their arms were unbound and massaged for a while, before being tied to a rail at the back of the platform, loosely enough to allow them to hold on to it and stand in relative comfort and stability. Finally, Lord and Lady Ruthven again stood in front of Helen and Ernie respectively, and their blindfolds were removed.

"Welcome!" said Lady Ruthven to them both, and her cultured voice was rich with real warmth. "Welcome to your new lives as crew slaves in our Company. We say 'our Company' deliberately, because my husband and I are by far its largest shareholders: you haven't met us before, so we'll now introduce ourselves. Our names are Lord and Lady Ruthven: the title is genuine, and we therefore like to be addressed as 'Lord' and 'Lady' -- in fact, from crew slaves we demand the respect of always being addressed in this way!"

Lord Ruthven chimed in smoothly, saying, "You have both made promises of total obedience to every officer in this room, individually: there are, of course, a few other officers not present here, but we assume you understand that, having earlier recited your promise in full to us, the most senior officers of all, you have in effect made the same promise to all officers, including those not here." He didn't ask, or even wait for, any acknowlegement from Helen and Ernie, but went on: "Naturally, we expect you to keep your promises until the term of slavery you agreed to is over, when you may be given a chance to re-negotiate a new term and perhaps some new conditions."

"Now," Lady Ruthven continued, "it's time for your fellow-slaves to give you their own welcome into their ranks. Like the officers, not all of them are here tonight, but most are, and they will make you really feel one of them. Take over, please, Petty Officers."

The 'escorting' officers stepped forward again. First, Officer Paul was invited to change tables with Lord and Lady Ruthven, so that he could be close to the platform: he in turn invited my Mistress to join him, and so of course I went too. In her inimitable fashion, Helen gave us all a brilliant smile as we took our places near her. Now Officer Paul was told that, when the crew slave introduced themselves to Helen, he -- as her owner -- might order them to caress, eat or even torment her for a moment or two.

The first slave came forward at the 'escorting' officer's signal, stood in front of Helen and said simply, "I'm slave So-and-so." Then he waited for a word or signal from Officer Paul. "Give her a big welcome kiss," said Officer Paul, and the slave obeyed with unconcealed enthusiasm: when the order to stop was given, he moved across to give his name to Ernie and another slave took his place in front of Helen.

It was great fun, at these close quarters, to watch the procession of crew slaves 'welcoming' Helen and Ernie! Most of them were allowed to touch the naked bodies of their new fellow-slaves in some way, but for a few seconds only: and all of them, even the one or two who were told to pinch a nipple or give a sharp slap, successfully conveyed a message of real warmth -- especially those who had to kneel and give one or other of the new slaves a very brief moment of oral stimulation!

Meanwhile, some of the slaves left the room and returned to serve a light supper to the officers. In some ways, it was very like many other social gatherings, with food and drink, light conversation and a little entertainment to watch: in other ways, however, it was very different indeed -- the complete nakedness of the many slaves moving about, serving the food and drink and waiting quietly in the queue for their turn to introduce themselves to Helen and Ernie, the nakedness and bondage of the lovely woman and good-looking man at the centre of attention, not to speak of the blatantly erotic things done to them to provide the 'entertainment'!

At the end of the crew slaves' self-introductions, Lady Ruthven came forward again and said, "We have just one more small formality before the close of this evening's ceremonies. The Company likes to have its property marked as such, and all its slaves may be considered its property, at least for the term of slavery they have agreed to. Obviously, such a mark must be semi-permanent, and impossible for the slave to remove.

"For you, slave Ernie, the mark will be a small tattoo high on the inside of your right thigh. For you, slave Helen, there is a choice -- but not for you to make!" She turned to Officer Paul and went on, "Since your slave indicated in the conditions of her slavery that she is willing to have her skin pierced if you wish it, you may select which mark she will wear: a similar tattoo, or a small gold ring in one nipple, or her navel, or in the lips of her pussy. Which would you prefer?"

I happened to be looking right at Helen as Lady Ruthven spoke, and I saw the expression of stunned disbelief that spread over her face. I could understand her surprise because, although I'd seen some crew slaves with rings in their nipples or other places, and had even seen a few tattoos where Lady Ruthven had indicated, I'd thought these were merely individual adornments -- and quite voluntary. As these thoughts flashed through my mind, Helen looked at Officer Paul and opened her mouth as if about to protest... but she closed it at the almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Her eyes stayed on him, though, and she seemed to be holding her breath, as he considered his choice. "Ah yes... well, let me see," he mused. "Yes, I think a ring might be nice..." A pause, then, "Yes, definitely, a ring in her... left nipple!" Helen drew a deep breath, closing her eyes, and seemed to hold it for ages: then she let it out again, opened her eyes and gave Officer Paul a smile, nervous, more than a little tentative, but nonetheless full of love.

Officer Paul, who must have been holding his breath too, let out big sigh, as if of relief, and said to my Mistress, "Isn't she wonderful? We'd hardly ever discussed the idea of piercing, before the question had to be answered for the conditions of her slavery: she said yes, but I'm sure she expected to be able to talk it over with me before it really happened. Now she's submitted to it without a murmur, even though she's had no say at all!"

Helen probably heard nothing of this compliment, thanks to the flurry of activity on the platform. Slaves were called forward with various items of equipment, including a bench, on which Ernie was securely bound with his left leg drawn down and his right held up high: its inner thigh was thus easily accessible to the tattooist, a slave who took but a few minutes to place a small symbol there, then drew back to display it, to a smattering of applause.

Meanwhile another slave had used a spray can on Helen's left nipple, and by now the intended numbing had taken effect -- as demonstrated by an officer giving her a very hard pinch with the points of her fingernails, with no reaction at all from Helen. The piercing itself happened very quickly: a slave grasped Helen's nipple in a pair of special forceps, and the officer pushed a very sharp needle right through it! Now Officer Paul was invited to come up and actually insert the ring itself, and to fasten its ends with tiny nuts carefully tightened with a special spanner: this done, he stood back with a hand cupped under Helen's breast, for the audience to see.

The ring was quite small and might hardly have been noticed normally: but now it stood out sparkling gold against the deep red of Helen's painted aureole. The audience applauded again, and I could tell that the applause was not so much for the workmanship, as for the submission shown by these new slaves in accepting these signs of the Company's ownership. Helen, I think, realized this too: she blushed prettily and smiled, but her eyes were on Officer Paul alone!

For my part, the scene was erotic in the extreme: my cock stood up as hard as a rock and my breathing quickened almost to a pant. Naturally, my Mistress noticed, leaned down to give a quick firm squeeze to my cock's head, and murmured with a conspiratorial smile, "What a lovely idea! If it turns you on so much, we'll have to consider doing the same to you, won't we?"

Her question was rhetorical, I suspected: but any answer I may have been tempted to make was cut short by Lord Ruthven's announcement: "That, ladies and gentlemen -- and slaves -- concludes this evening's ceremonies. I trust you've enjoyed them as much as I have, and are looking forward to working with our new fellow-officer... as well as perhaps working on our two new crew slaves! I can assure you Lady Ruthven and I are looking forward to that! Good night to you all."

There was a chorus of "Good night"s, polite from the officers and distinctly respectful from the slaves, and the gathering began to disperse. Lord and Lady Ruthven came up to the front of the room and asked Officer Paul if he would mind leaving Helen on the platform for a moment, as they had a small matter to discuss with him. He obliged, they all sat down at the table with my Mistress, and Lord Ruthven spoke in a voice that Helen would not be able to hear.

"We have a tradition," he said, "of observing a quaint little medieval custom, a sort of 'droit de signeur' -- with newly accepted crew slaves rather than wives, of course! Naturally, this depends on the agreement of the slave's owner, but..." Officer Paul started to say something like "Of course, Lord...", but Lord Ruthven stopped him with, "No, no, what I was about to say was: since you've invited your guest and her slave here to share the pleasure of the ceremonies, perhaps you'd like to spend the rest of the evening with them and your lovely slave. "No, I insist," he went on as Officer Paul tried again to speak. "If I may just have your assurance that you won't object to my exercising that privilege of my... ah, shall we say?... rank: perhaps tomorrow sometime? Good, I need hardly say how keen my anticipation will be by then!" He allowed his gaze to linger, clearly with great pleasure, on Helen's lovely nakedness.

"It's very kind of you, my dear," murmured Lady Ruthven, "to defer your 'droit de signeur' like this. I, on the other hand," she went on with a smile of pure anticipation, "do not intend to defer my 'droit de signora'! The slave overseer had my instructions in advance," she explained to my Mistress and Officer Paul, "and by the time I reach my room, I expect to find slave Ernie waiting for me in a most appropriate way!"

During this conversation, Helen's fellow new slave had been released from his bondage and been led out -- I had simply assumed he was being taken to the slave quarters -- leaving Helen alone on the platform. Lord and Lady Ruthven smilingly bid goodnight to my Mistress and Officer Paul, and the latter now returned to Helen.

My Mistress and I watched in fascination as, without a word, he released her wrists and, holding her at arm's length, looked deeply into her eyes. Then he drew her closer and put his arms around her, and her arms came up and around his neck as their lips met in a long deep kiss that obviously expressed a great deal of love. Helen arched her gorgeous naked body against his crisp new uniform, and his hands roamed over her back and in her hair, cupping the cheeks of her bottom to pull her hips even harder against his. It seemed an age before their lips finally parted, and he knelt to release her still widely spread ankles, she holding his head to keep her balance.

Supporting her gently so that the stiffness of her legs would not betray her, he brought her down to join my Mistress and me: he was about to say something when Lord Ruthven appeared in a nearby doorway and coughed politely to attract his attention. Leaving Helen with us, he went across and they spoke briefly before he returned to invite my Mistress to join them. Left alone with my 'beloved' Helen, I felt strangely awkward and could think of nothing to say.

Not so Helen. "I'm so glad you could be here, Peter!" she said with shining eyes. "Would you believe it was my idea to invite Mistress Tina and you? Master Paul -- oops, he's Officer Paul now, isn't he? -- didn't let me tell you about it, insisted it should be a surprise: was it a good one? It was a bit of a surprise for me too, because he never told me whether Mistress Tina had accepted or not... but I thought she might!

"Amn't I lucky?" she went on, the words seeming to fall over each other, I'm a crew slave now! D'you like my ring?" She fingered it for a moment. "It feels a bit strange, being numb right now: I wonder how much it'll hurt while it's healing... and what it'll feel like afterwards.... Pity your hands aren't free to play with it..."

Later, I had my chance to explore her new adornment with my fingers... and with my lips and tongue as well! (The latter turned out not such a good idea, as I discovered when my mouth started to feel numb; so I followed a suggestion to use it elsewhere on her body!) The four of us were together in my Mistress' room, which was just a little crowded but we didn't mind -- especially not Helen and I....

As part of our celebration of Officer Paul's and Helen's new status, neither Helen or I were shackled as we were allowed -- no, ordered! -- to hug and kiss and cuddle to our hearts' content. Our owners sipped brandy and chatted about the day's events, watching indulgently as our hands roved all over each other's bodies, as Helen's luscious tits pressed against my chest, as my cock grew hard between our bellies or insinuated itself between Helen's thighs.

At one point Officer Paul ordered Helen to pose without moving, and gave me a free hand to caress and kiss and lick her all over. I enjoyed this immensely, and so did Helen as my hands and lips and tongue titillated and aroused her -- not that she needed much arousing, she seemed to be on a sort of 'high'! -- but Officer Paul stopped me before she came, leaving her flushed and panting brethlessly. Next it was my turn, posing the same way while Helen's hands and lips and tongue roamed freely over my naked body, finally concentrating on my cock: to my surprise, she wasn't told to stop and -- far sooner that I would have wished -- I found myself moaning and arching my back as my cock twitched and spasmed in her mouth.

I was coming down to earth when I heard my Mistress, in an exaggeratedly casual tone, say to Officer Paul: "In the ceremony tonight, slave Helen -- no, crew slave Helen! -- promised her obedience to you as an officer, and offered her body to you for your pleasure: since I'm not an officer, she didn't do that for me. However, I understand that the rules of her slavery make her available to paying passengers when her crew duties permit: but what about guests? and is she free of crew duties now?"

Officer Paul's grin was as wide as my Mistress' seriousness was a mockery. "Of course!" he said. "She's all yours... for a while! Later, she has very important duties to perform for a new officer!"

Flashing him a grin of thanks, my Mistress crooked her finger at Helen and made her stand close in front of her chair, with her legs widely spread astride my Mistress' knees and her hands clasped behind her neck. With slow thoroughness and an air of complacent possessiveness, she proceeded to fondle the lovely naked body, so obediently placed at her disposal, in ways so intimate that I even found myself blushing for Helen -- despite the fact that I should have been well used to this by now. The intensity of her concentration belied the great enjoyment I could tell she was having, but her quickening breaths soon started to give her away.

For her part, Helen seemed to be enjoying this almost as much as my Mistress! I soon became convinced that she truly meant to live up to the promise she'd made earlier -- of total obedience to the Company's officers -- especially when that obedience included the other part of her formally recited submission into crew slavery: namely, that her naked body was from now on utterly available for the enjoyment of the officers, paying passengers... and, of course, an officer's guest! She made not the slightest murmur of protest as my Mistress' clever fingers explored her most private parts: on the other hand, before long she was making murmurs of another kind, as those same fingers aroused her towards an orgasm!

I doubt she was surprised, however, when my Mistress stopped and said, in a dry if slightly breathless voice, "That should have warmed you up pretty well for what I suspect might be your 'duties' later! I'm getting a little warm myself: perhaps I better see that I don't overheat. Kneel down, slave-girl, and you, slave-boy, you can help me undress!"

Standing up, she allowed my only-too-willing hands to obey, and soon her lovely body was as naked as Helen's. Her lightly tanned skin and slimmer but beautifully proportioned figure made a sexy contrast with Helen's fairness and voluptuousness, but there was a more subtle and equally sexy contrast, too: despite both women's complete nakedness, a strange aura of 'Mistressness' seemed almost to clothe her and render Helen's nudity even more naked and vulnerable, as she knelt submissively with her face only inches from the body being bared in front of her.

A moment later the contrast was made even more emphatic, as my Mistress sat down again, spread her legs wide and again crooked her finger at Helen with a smile of anticipation. Earlier, she had sat in comfort while Helen had stood stiff and spread-legged; she'd used her hands on Helen as she pleased, and Helen was expected to accept her attentions without complaint or control. Now, she still sat comfortably but with her legs spread, while Helen crawled between them on her knees; Helen was expected to use her tongue and lips where my Mistress had used her hands, and it was clear -- if unspoken -- that my Mistress was in complete control of the pleasure Helen was about to give her.

These thoughts, added to the erotic sight of Helen's blond head working hard between my Mistress' thighs, had the inevitable effect on my cock. Just as inevitably, Officer Paul noticed and, with a broad grin, motioned me to come kneel beside him. Although I'd made no promises like those Helen had, I knew only too well that my Mistress would want me to obey, wondering whether he intended to use my mouth the way Helen's was being used.

Instead, he simply wanted to fondle my cock and balls, and run his hands over other parts of my nakedness, while he watched his slave's mouth busy in the lush dark thatch of my Mistress' pussy. The huge bulge in the front of his trousers showed that the sight was exciting him as much as it was me, but not once did he even touch it. Somehow, I almost had the feeling that he was using my cock as a kind of substitute for his own, to save himself for the 'very important duties' he was planning with Helen.

(Perhaps this last thought should have disgusted me, but to my surprise it did no such thing: although it did bring home a new kind of humiliation I'd not experienced before, my slave's nature even found that exciting; besides, I also felt that I might be making a small contribution to what I was sure promised to be a wonderful night for Helen -- the way I knew she felt about her Master, his pleasure would give her pleasure redoubled.)

In the event, I think he proved me right. No sooner had my Mistress reached her climax -- moaning loudly in ecstasy as she clutched Helen's head with her thighs and arched to thrust her clit forward as if asking Helen to bite it -- and at last pushed Helen away, than he tied his slave's hands behind her, bidding my Mistress a polite goodnight as he did so. Taking a firm grip on Helen's right nipple with a thumb and finger, he led her out the door.

When my Mistress recovered her breath, she smiled at me contentedly and said, "Well, it's been a fun evening, hasn't it? I've just had a lovely climax, and you obviously enjoyed yours earlier. Now I think it's time for some sleep... and I just can't resist the idea of using that nice little cell to keep you out of mischief. The only question is: whether I can depend on you not wasting good sleeping time by playing with yourself!"

This wasn't a direct question, so I knew I was expected not to answer: but she must have seen some disappointment on my face, because she went on, "No, I don't think I can -- hands behind your back, please!" Her accompanying grin was friendly but firm, so I grinned wryly in return and turned to allow my wrists to be joined with a short chain between cuffs. Obediently, I went into the cell and my Mistress fastened one of my ankles with a cuff and chain attached to a strong ring, before closing and locking the barred door.

I was very effectively imprisoned for the night, with no less than three solid padlocks -- the one on the cell door would have sufficed, but I was quite accustomed to my Mistress' liking for extra "security" (as she called it) to emphasize my captivity even more. Sitting down, I leaned against the back wall of the cell and tried to come down from the day's excitement before settling to sleep. This wasn't very successful, I found, because I could clearly see my Mistress moving around and preparing for bed.

She pretended not to notice me watching, but the slight smile on her lips showed that she was deliberately teasing me, by wandering around the room for a short while, her lovely naked body clearly visible -- but so very unattainable! -- to her captive in the barred cell. Finally she lay down and turned out the light: I lay down, too, somewhat cramped but not too uncomfortable, and tried to sleep, but the echoes of the day's excitement kept me awake for quite a time.

I awoke at the sound of a door being opened, but it seemed I must have turned over in my sleep because the sound was coming from behind me! I opened my eyes but could see nothing at all... until the opening door let some light in. By now I was awake enough to know, by the position of the ring shackling my ankle, that I was still facing the same way as last night, so the door had indeed opened in the side of the cell opposite its entrance from my Mistress' room. That entrance, I saw, was now not only barred, but also shut by the panel that had concealed it at first.

Twisting around to face this new entrance, I saw that it was also barred, and beyond it was the face -- and naked body -- of a crew slave I recognized. "Morning, slave!" he said quietly but cheerfully, "I've come to fetch you for the loan your Mistress has agreed to give to Lord and Lady Ruthven. Up on your feet!" I obeyed, a bit stiffly from the cramped position I'd slept in, and he opened the barred door and reached in to release my ankle shackle.

My Mistress had closed that padlock herself last night, I thought, so if a crew slave had the key to open it, she must be aware of this. With this verification of his words, I willingly obeyed the crew slave's instructions to leave the cell and follow him. We walked along a narrow, dimly-lit tunnel for some little distance: I noticed more doors like the one I'd come through, and my companion volunteered a confirmation of my guesses about them.

"Each door is for a cell in a guest room," he said. "This enables slaves to be provided for the guests, directly from the slave quarters, and they can be returned without disturbing the guest's sleep." Just then we emerged into a large room, lined with cells in much the same way as the unaccompanied slave quarters on the ship. Most were occupied by slaves, singly or in pairs, some unshackled, others shackled or bound, but all quite naked -- as I expected!

There were sounds of movement and chatter, but quite subdued. As we walked past the cells, some of their occupants waved or greeted me cheerfully when they recognized me. Other slaves were moving about outside the cells, and putting bowls of food into them through hatches. The sight and smell of the food made me realize how hungry I was, and my hunger was satisfied a little later after I was allowed to wash and so on.

I'd nearly finished my breakfast when, to my surprise and pleasure, Helen was brought in and given something to eat, too. Before attacking her plate with gusto, she asked me if I'd spent the night in the cells rather than with my Mistress. "Not exactly," I told her, and went on to describe the cell in the room and the tunnel it opened on.

"Oh, that's different," she commented between mouthfuls. "There's no cell like that in my officer's room, just a concealed door opening directly into the tunnel. I only found out when the phone woke us up this morning: Officer Paul answered, listened for a moment, and said, 'Yes, of course, immediately!' Still almost half asleep, he said to me, 'OK, slave, that's enough comfort for you! It's time to join your fellow crew slaves in their quarters: go kneel in that corner and go through the door when it opens.'

"I think he was asleep again," she giggled, "even before the panel in the wall slid aside! I crawled through and found the slave overseer waiting to bring me here. It's lovely to see you, though: are you going to sample the life of the crew slaves?"

"Not really," I replied. "I was told that I'm being lent to Lady Ruthven."

"That includes both of you," said the slave overseer, coming up at that moment. (The interruption, unfortunately, prevented me from asking Helen to tell me what Officer Paul and she had done last night after leaving us!) "Lord Ruthven wants to exercise his 'droit de signeur', girl," he went on with a smile, "but I gather that he and his Lady have decided to include your guest slave in some of the fun he plans to have with you today. Come along now!"

His manner was good-natured, but he clearly expected to be obeyed. Helen, who I remembered had not heard what was said last night about the 'droit de signeur', looked a little confused for a moment: but she recovered quickly, grinned at me and said, "I don't know about you, Peter, but now I'm officially a crew slave, I better do what I'm told: he's wearing the overseer's collar, and the crew slavery rules say that he must be obeyed as if he's an officer!"

The overseer grinned, too. "Good slave-girl!" he said. "You've learned your first lesson well. As for you," he went on to me, "you're not really subject to the same rules, so you could disobey if you wanted: I'd simply have to report you to your owner to deal with!"

This threat wasn't really necessary, because I'd already decided to obey: besides, it gave me a chance to spend a little more time with my beloved Helen! Our wrists were again handcuffed behind us, and we followed the overseer outside, where we found it was quite early morning, and the air was brisk enough to make our nakedness feel a little cold. The overseer assured us, with a broad smile, that he was sure we wouldn't be feeling the cold for long!

Suddenly I noticed something and, aware that slaves were allowed to speak to each other freely, I asked the overseer why he was wearing a collar, but Helen wasn't. "Collars are only needed," he replied, "when it's important to identify slave by their duties or functions. On board ship, all slaves have specified functions, unless they're on loan as unaccompanied slaves: but here, only we overseers need to be identified, especially for the other slaves. All the other slaves are just slaves here, with no specific duties -- except to help the officers relax between their tours of duty on board ship!... and to obey us overseers, of course!" he added with a meaningful grin at Helen.

Helen asked a question, too: "This 'droit de signeur'... I know what it means, but... do I have any choice? I mean, Lord Ruthven seems pretty old..."

The overseer's grin faded. "Does the agreement you signed," he asked seriously, "say anything about the age of the officers you're willing to submit your body to?... No?... Well, perhaps you should have thought of that first, if it bothers you. It is possible to apply for a change of your conditions, if something really unexpected arises, but you need a pretty convincing reason: and in this case, I'm sure the officers would consider it quite insulting to Lord Ruthven, if you objected to him for his age alone; even if they agreed, I'd bet you'd have to accept a very severe penalty indeed!"

"I don't think you should worry too much, Helen," I chimed in, wanting to reasuure her. "Yesterday, I saw Lord Ruthven giving attention to a lot of slaves -- females and males, myself included! -- and we all seemed to enjoy it a great deal!" Looking relieved, Helen smiled and murmured that, if I felt that way, she was sure it would be OK.

And it certainly was -- at least the part of it that I was involved in! The overseer led us into a lovely little courtyard, open on the side facing the morning sun and sheltered from any breezes: the other three sides were entirely glass, which reflected the sunlight and maintained a comfortable warmth, even for us naked slaves. Helen and I were soon fastened by our handcuffs to two posts, and then we were left alone.

But not for long. We'd been positioned facing the expanse of glass directly opposite the sun, and it seemed to be from the centre of its dazzling reflection that Lord Ruthven's unmistakable voice suddenly spoke! "Well, m'dear," it said, "what a lovely sight on a lovely morning! Our brand-new slave-girl and our guest slave, waiting here just to provide us with a little fun to start our day!"

There was something about this voice speaking out of the glare, something with a startling psychological effect: it was as if the sun itself was speaking to us, and it seemed to me to re-emphasize the supreme place held by Lord Ruthven and his Lady, as well as the utterly opposite place we slaves occupied in the scheme of things. Nor was this effect much lessened when the glass panel at the very centre of the glare moved aside -- hardly diminishing the dazzle at all! -- and Lord and Lady Ruthven emerged to confront us smilingly.

They were both impeccably dressed, in exactly the kind of clothes that one might expect to see the aristocracy wear when inspecting their estates. In this case, however, they were inspecting us : almost as if the bright light of day gave them a better look at her, they re-examined Helen's naked body with their eyes and proprietary hands, commenting to each other in their cultured voices -- but using the most vulgar and explicit terms! -- on what a fine creature she was, and what a valuable addition to the crew. Then they turned to me and repeated the exercise: and, since neither of them had spent more than a few moments on me yesterday, this inspection and its acompanying handling were even more thorough and humiliatingly intimate than Helen's!

Their 'inspections' over, they proceeded to spend the next two hours or so amusing themsleves with us. The courtyard -- they called it a 'playground' -- was adequately and cleverly equipped with things that could be used for the restraint of naked slave bodies, and they made skillful use of most of them. Helen and I found ourselves bound in a variety of ways, all intended to provide our 'tormentors' with easy access to our nakedness, which they used with obvious enjoyment!

Nor were they the only ones who enjoyed it. Helen and I enjoyed their attentions, too: as well as the exciting sensations of bound helplessness that I love so much -- and I knew Helen did too -- the touch of Lord and Lady Ruthven's hands was anything but unpleasant! And the enjoyment was also shared by others: soon after things got started, most of the glass doors around us were opened to reveal a sunny U-shaped breakfast room! A succession of officers took their breakfast there, served of course by naked slaves and idly watching the 'show' provided.

It was no surprise, of course, to see my Mistress and Officer Paul arrive for their breakfast, towards the end of the 'show'. I guessed they'd slept late, after the activities and excitements of the previous day and evening, and I have to admit that I was inordinately pleased to see my Mistress and know that she was taking an interest in what was happening to me. Co-incidentally -- or perhaps not? -- they arrived just in time for what turned out to be the 'finale' of the performance that Helen and I were the 'stars' of.

Saying that Helen's training to be a crew slave would be a little like breaking in a horse, Lord and Lady Ruthven proceeded to demonstrate the latter in a bizarre way. I was positioned close to a post in the centre of the playground', with only a short chain between my ankle cuffs and around the post keeping me there; at first, I thought this was just to keep me out of the way of what was being done with Helen. Unshackled but for cuffs holding her wrists behind her back, she was fitted with a collar, to which was attached a long rope. Lady Ruthven held the other end of that rope and, taking up a position close to me, made Helen move in a circle around us as she responded to the gentle goading of Lord Ruthven wielding a long coach-whip.

It was a little like an untrained filly being broken, and Helen entered into the spirit of things by tossing her head, stamping her feet and sometimes refusing -- if only for a moment -- to obey Lord Ruthven's instructions. She circled the perimeter of the playground several times, and jumped over the 'hurdles' placed in her path, once or twice pretending to baulk at the obstacles. Lord and Lady Ruthven, of course, circled me at the same time, otherwise the long rope would have become hopelessly entangled.

Suddenly, on one of Helen's circuits, I became aware of something different; it took me a moment to realize that Lady Ruthven must have attached the end of the rope to the post I stood beside, because it began to wrap around me! As Helen continued her circling, Lady Ruthven carefully controlled the way it slowly bound my naked body to the post, and ensured that it wound quite tightly. By the time the rope was short enough to bring Helen face to face with me, its multiple turns around me -- from my knees to my shoulders -- had effectively made me part of the post!

Helen was breathing quickly when she finally faced me from a distance of a few inches, partly from her exertions but also, I suspect, from a suspicion of what was about to happen. For the latter reason, I was excited too, and my cock stood up hard, as if trying to bridge the small gap between us; then even that gap vanished....

Standing to each side of us and with a skill clearly born of long parctice, Lord and Lady Ruthven rapidly passed two more long ropes around and around us, starting near our feet and ending at our necks. They pulled each turn tight, until our naked bodies were pressed together as if we were never to part: Helen's luscious breasts were crushed against my chest, my cock was squeezed snugly -- and excitingly! -- between our bellies, and at last even our lips were forced to touch... not that we minded, let me tell you!

Nor did Lord and Lady Ruthven mind, either! "You may kiss, slaves," they told us, as the final turn of the ropes was passed around our heads and tied off to the pole behind me. Helen and I needed no second invitation, and soon our tongues were exploring each other's mouths, with all the passion of lovers who knew that this might be our last chance for a long time!

There was a smattering of applause from the watching breakfasters, and the 'show' was over. My Mistress and Officer Paul now joined Lord and Lady Ruthven, and the four of them chatted for a few minutes, the former complimenting the latter on the imaginativeness of their bondage, and the latter saying what attractive and submissive slaves the former owned. All this time, four pairs of hands roamed up and down Helen's and my naked bodies, feeling the tightness of the many turns of rope around us, and causing thrills of excitement to run through us as they touched the flesh between the rope.

Finally, Lord Ruthven said to my Mistress, "I want to thank you for the loan of your slave for our little amusement this morning. But I guess you'd like to be on your way soon; as for me..." His voice took on a tone of sensual anticipation: ".... I want to spend some time alone with our new crew slave! However, I understand that she and your slave are quite fond of each other, so I think we might indulge them a little..."

As he spoke, he and Lady Ruthven rapidly unwound the ropes holding Helen and me together, and the one binding me to the post; finally, he unshackled Helen's wrists, and Lady Ruthven released my ankles from the post. "Say 'au revoir' to your friend, slave-girl," he said gently, obviously sensitive to what this moment might mean to us.

Helen and I simply stood and looked at each other for several long seconds, neither of us able to say a word. Suddenly Helen almost threw herself at me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and clamped her lips to mine; my arms went around her lovely body and clasped it to my own, as tightly as the ropes had bound them a few moments before. I felt the warm wetness of her tears as they flowed from her cheeks on to mine, where they mingled with a few tears of my own.

We made the most of Lord Ruthven's 'indulgence', and seemed almost to withdraw into a cocoon of our own. At the same time, however, I was quite aware that we hadn't been allowed complete privacy to say our farewells -- a fact that was only too well emphasised by the way more than one pair of hands joined mine in their caressing of Helen's lovely nakedness! -- but it didn't seem to bother me at all. After all, I found myself thinking, we're only slaves, and such privacy is a luxury we can't expect to enjoy.

At last Lord Ruthven gently but firmly drew Helen from me. She was dry-eyed by now, and enough in control of herself to simply give me a brilliant smile and say, just a little unsteadily, "Au revior, Peter," before Lord Ruthven made her turn to my Mistress to say farewell to her too. My Mistress assured her very seriously that we would both be seeing her again: Helen said fervently, "Soon, I hope, Mistress Tina!" and, taking a deep breath and with a last look into my eyes, she turned to Lord Ruthven.

"Thank you, m'Lord," she said firmly and very humbly, "for letting us say 'au revoir' in our own way. I'm ready now, and I want to try and please you as much as I can!" Lord Ruthven gave her a smile full of warm approval and, without another word -- he'd already said farewell to my Mistress -- clipped a leash to Helen's collar and led her away. Obediently, almost eagerly, she followed, and didn't even glance back.

Officer Paul was the next to say his farewells, saying that he had a lot of things to learn before the next cruise. He and my Mistress promised to keep in touch as often as possible; in particular, they both vowed that Helen and I would be ordered "... to write to each other frequently, under pain of severe punishment!" Finally, only Lady Ruthven was left with my Mistress and me, and she walked with us to where our car was waiting, the luggage already loaded by crew slaves.

My Mistress invited her to put on the cock-ring she wanted me to wear for the journey. She clearly enjoyed forcing the rings over my still semi-hard organ and locking the tight ring behind my balls: I enjoyed her attentions, too, so much so that my cock was soon rigid and purple in its constricting rings. Nor was that situation helped by her taking a last opportunity to run her hands sensually over most of my naked body.

"Well, slave," she smiled at me, "I do hope you've enjoyed your short stay with us! Maybe sometime I'll have a chance to spend some more time with you: I'm sure we could have some great fun!" Without waiting for an answer, she turned to my Mistress and said, "But I musn't keep you; you must be anxious to be off."

"Into the car, slave!" my Mistress ordered quietly, before she and Lady Ruthven made their farewells. I obeyed, of course, but I couldn't help wondering whether she planned for me to stay stark naked for the whole journey! When she at last got in and we drove off, I started to think about saying something in protest, but seemed to find it hard to summon up the courage.

I was glad I didn't. When we reached the gate through which I'd entered in the bus yesterday, my Mistress stopped the car: calmly and quite matter-of-factly, she ordered me to put on the clothes I'd left in the bin there! They were a little crumpled, but at least I knew I wouldn't be arrested for indecency.

"Well, slave, that's the end of this holiday!" she said when I was dressed: she moved into the passenger seat, and motioned for me to drive. I obeyed and, as we went out of the big gate and along the road home, she began to chat about the experiences I'd had on this cruise. I answered her questions as fully and frankly as I could, but it was some time before I began to suspect that she was leading up to something more significant than idle conversation.

When she'd finally quizzed me about my feelings during Helen's initiation as a crew slave, she commented idly, "That was the end of her holiday, too, wasn't it? Now she'll have to work like a slave, as the saying goes! Maybe you envy her a bit, eh?"

"Perhaps a little, Mistress," I replied truthfully, "but not really: I'm just happy to be your slave, for as long as I can please you."

"I'm glad to hear it," she responded drily and, almost as an afterthought, added, "You can be sure that Helen isn't the only slave whose holidays are over for a while: from now on, far from being 'Slaves on Vacation', it'll be more like 'Slaves at Hard Labour'!"

She didn't elaborate, and said nothing at all for a long while, leaving me to make what I could of her last statement. It wasn't hard to guess that she had something unexpected lined up for me: but, whatever it was, I had the strongest feeling that it was going to be exciting and enjoyable!