Condemned to Slavery (2 page)

“I’ve never…I mean I—”

“Ssssh, that’s okay, slave,” he interjected, putting a finger to her lips to stop her confession. “There is no morality here. There are no expectations. If you had tried, that would have been enough. You need to forget about all these foolish notions of what is right and wrong, this is a place of sensual fulfillment. If you would just surrender yourself to the role, you would see just how wonderful such an existence can be,” he added, and then arose, snagging her chain to bring her up with him.

“These women are suffering for their lack of obedience. But they know that they are cared for, that someone wishes to keep them, own them, ensure their education. They have no responsibilities, no burdens, no obligations. They are freer as slaves than they ever were as free women. Do you understand, slave?” he said, turning back to her after indicating the menagerie of bondage subjects.

“I…I think so, Master,” she replied with a frown, unsure if she did or not, but the seed had been sown in her psyche, whether or not it germinated was up to her. If she fed her submission, she would find her lot here a delight. But if she let it wither and perish, her life would remain the same and would be resented.

He tried to encourage his slaves to exhibit such willing servility, but many refused steadfastly, obeying from fear rather than love. It mattered not because he needed resistant slaves as much as obedient ones.

“Then you agree that this session of discipline is necessary? So that next time you feel the bite of regret, guilt or conscience, you will recall this duress and allow yourself to truly submit?” he questioned, running a hand down her back, the soft hairs being brushed to have her shiver and stiffen.

“Yes, Master,” she muttered, the concept alien to her but linking to hidden feelings and wants, an unexplored and ignored side to her.

“Shall we see if she has assimilated this lesson before we give her another, daughter?” he asked.

The girl smiled broadly and nodded before giving a slight downward yank to the chain, the wrench to the slave’s neck brought her back to her knees before the slender dominatrix.

“Lick my boots, then my leggings, then you’ll service me, slave,” she stated with unwavering authority.

The girl swallowed and looked up across the vinyl-clad form before glancing to her owner and then down to the girl’s burnished boots.

“Begin!” snapped the dominatrix and gave another slight tug to squeeze at her throat and inspire her to work as demanded.

With hands across his chest he watched the show with a licentious appetite. The naked rear of the girl wiggling in the air was charming his libido like a snake charmer would a serpent, the graceful motions and pert smoothness causing his mind to fill with the projected thought of how it would feel to ease himself into that proffered orifice.

Running her tongue upon the vinyl boots, she alternated from one to the other, slowly working her way upwards. It was a gradual build up to the deed she had previously resented, allowing her to mull over his words and hope that by a sterling performance she might actually earn herself a pardon.

The image of the bare slave fawning diligently on the gloss skin of his adopted daughter made him swell against his trousers, the urge to indulge her body being held in check lest it ruin the lesson.

The girl gradually continued her ascent, the recipient glaring down at her, relishing in the feel of a humbled tongue working its way upon the PVC, adoring her, fearful of the consequences should she disappoint. Every millimeter of altitude she gained brought her closer to what she feared, the paranoia and diligent dissuasion concerning lesbianism was fighting against a distinct submissive streak, the undeveloped side to her psyche bolstered by the fear of extreme bondage.

“Good slave, now don’t forget my butt,” commented the girl, turning around to offer the shiny hillocks of her rear, the material stretched tight across it, every wrinkle vanishing as she offered her buttocks to the kneeling slave.

The girl worked her tongue in swirls around the mounds and once she reached the summits, she was sufficiently aroused to delve into the cleft and lick for longer than was necessary, finally finding a sense of enjoyment in her lot.

“Now for the finale,” she muttered, unfastening the leggings and lowering them to expose her naked, shaven sex. Threading the leash between her thighs, she reeled the slave in, the cold chain sliding against her crotch before pulling the worried face into her pussy. A moan of stress was muffled my intimate flesh and a vinyl-gloved hand closed into the slave’s hair, adding an extra reign to keep her under control.

“That’s it, slave. Now get that tongue all the way in me, I want to feel how long it is,” ordered the girl, her eyes drifting shut as she felt warm breath snorting against her belly.

It took a moment for the girl to obey, the act of obeisance being physically revealed as the dominatrix tightened her frame, her head draping back on a loose neck, her mouth yawning wide with a long, libidinous gasp.

“Oh yessss, that’s it slave, now ride it into me, fuck me with your tongue,” she ordered, bestowing small pulls to the leash to encourage the girl and to stimulate her own loins with the passage of the chill links of steel against her.

The slave girl looked up and saw the bliss she was granting the dominatrix, and it melted her resentment a little more, for she could see how much pleasure she was bestowing, how well another was responding to her efforts. The sense of selfless generosity gathered in her heart and she started to allow herself to find hesitant joy in her cunnilingus.

“Now, use the flat of your tongue. Pour it against my clit, slave,” murmured the dominant, running her fingers though the girl’s hair, soothing her as she complied.

“That’s it. Oh God yes. Keep going, don’t you dare stop, slave!” she warned with a wide smile of rapture.

Devouring the sex of the girl, the slave shuddered with glee, the image of the shivering dominatrix filling her vision, a sense of covert power coursing through her, for was she not in charge of the woman’s bliss? The approach of orgasm hung solely on the efforts of her tongue, giving her a hint of authority.

“Suck at me a little, slave,” petitioned the girl, rotating her fist to work the face around her crotch. “Mmm, that’s good, keep going, oh I’m soooo close. Don’t stop, slave,” she murmured, her words issuing on speeding pants.

The slave continued her homage, her eyes fixating on the heaving chest of the girl as she rasped and sobbed with rhapsody, her body quaking the closer she drew to climax.

“Oh yes! Here we go! Oh! Slave! Go! Work that tongue!” She cried, and after a few more laps she flashed to straining attention, her body quivering and jolting in fits as she yelled onto the air, riven with ecstasy.

The nubile dominatrix feasted on the pleasure until she could take no more and had to push the slave back, her legs trembling beneath her. His daughter enveloped herself in her own arms, hugging herself as she melted into the embrace and murmured with fulfillment.

“Not bad. Not bad at all, slave,” she acknowledged softly.

“You see, slave,” he advised. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You pleasured one of your owners. You should be proud. You did well.”

The girl looked to him and gave a flicker of a smile.

“So are you ready to undergo your treatment?” he asked, melting the warmth in the girl’s smile. Her head now hung low and she sighed with resignation.

“Yes, Master.”

Having gained at least a token acceptance of her need for discipline, he turned and drew a large box from the corner. Flipping the latches, he opened the chest and started to remove the interior as his daughter refastened her clothing.

A latex top was drawn onto the girl, her arms sliding down the sleeves into firm mittens. The molded breast cups had straps at the base that when tightened made the assets swell and bulge into a spheres of discomfort. Metal sockets at each tip covered her entire aureole and bore fittings for as yet unknown additions.

The buckles at the hem were fastened, the waist bands drawing in at her hips as others were attached to her back, bending her arms up her spine and locking the mittens to the dense rubber collar that forced her head up and to attention.

She whimpered and grimaced as she was slowly enveloped, whole portions of her body been stripped from her as the two tyrants locked her in the required configuration. Already she could see that she was being prepared for something other than the fate of the other women, and the mystery both excited and frightened her.

Her expression was lost as a latex hood was drawn down over her head. The barren dome was comprised of two dense layers. One clutched her face while the other remained loose upon it. A wide pipe fed into her mouth to grant her breath, and the neck attached to her collar to prevent any hope of getting rid of the sheath.

Lost in oblivion, she became more docile with so many of her senses removed. Stockings were pulled onto her legs, the buckled tops tightening them onto her skin, perching her atop the incorporated ballet boots, their absurd heel making her shiver with pangs of cramp as her foot was stretched out.

Proceeding to a panel in the floor he lifted it out to expose a subdued section beneath, the shallow indentation place right before the door. The new area of ground was fitted with row upon row of illuminated plastic discs all placed close together. Each was of a size where her toe and heel could fit within one, and flicking a switch he brought motion to both floor and ceiling, setting covert mechanisms in motion as the discs glowed more brightly.

From the middle of the panel arose a sizable phallus. The bulbous slick tip started to rise up, the ridged length giving way to two coils of slender cord that hung loose from the long metal pole supporting it. Simultaneously, from a covert hole in the ceiling came a metal-segmented pipe with two wires hanging along it, all three ending in a locking seal.

As the shaft was still rising, his daughter drew the girl to her feet and supported her fledgling steps as she was brought to the pole, her stance in the boots being highly unstable. Steered into position, the rounded head grazed her loins and she bucked with concern. Before she could escape, the phallus speared her womb, shuffling into her, making her jolt and writhe, fighting the latex bondage as she tried to get free, the width of the slimy dildo hauling her open far wider than she could accept in comfort.

The cords were quickly tied about her thighs, stopping her from achieving the unlikely ability of leaping free of the trespassing scepter that now plundered her very depths. The rod only stopped once it was pressed as deep as it could go without causing damage.

Tottering on her heels, shaking with distress, a series of whinnying cries seeped through the helmet as her plight continued to worsen.

The large pipe was locked to a fixture at the crown of her hood and the two wires were drawn out and mated with the devices on her nipples.

Stepping back, the pair of them admired their handiwork as the mechanism engaged and began to reveal the truth of her containment.

The hood rustled and started to swell, the pipe pumping it up swiftly so that it squeezed her head in a tight clinch.

The discs on the floor started to flicker as she trod on them, the panels sending their programmed response into her form. Each activated either the voltage nip to her nipples, to her womb, or added to the inflation of her hood. Some of them decreased the inflation, or switched to a more pleasurable series of pulses into her speared sex.

It was up to her to discern where and how to place her feet to acquire a relent in the gathering pressure on her head, or the snap of electrical bites to her womb and teats.

Every ten minutes they would automatically reset themselves, changing to a new pattern so that she would have to start again in discovering the new locations, and by a process of elimination and experimentation she would endure the more despicable settings of the mechanism to find those that were less harsh.

Squealing and prancing on the shaft she stepped from disc to disc, desperately seeking assistance in her plight. Even when she found one, she was so torn by her panic that she often moved on and had to struggle to reverse and find it again.

Both of them watched with heated passion as she started to slowly acclimatize to the position, falling into the demanded rota of constant searching, lines of wetness running down the shaft as she bounced and slid upon it.

Sufficiently pleased that she would recall this experience for a very long time, they turned and departed the room, leaving the thirteen women to their private tuition.

“I think we need some more slaves,” he commented. “We have several important personages due this year and I want some exceptional specimens ready for them. I’m growing tired of the same old faces and this girl was the first new specimen in a few months. She’s definitely convinced me we need some new blood to refresh our little harem. Where did she come from, by the way?”

“Folter’s prison. She was caught smuggling heroin. She claimed she was framed, was found guilty, and given life. Folter had her sent to her dungeon for training and then she was sent here,” reported the girl.

“Ah, Folter and her dominatrix are a wonderful team. They’ve given us some stunning results,” he mused.

“Indeed, father. Any particular recruitment method?” she wondered.

“Abduct some and ship them here via the usual methods, see what we have in the prisons, and recruit from any local sources. I wish I could afford something from Volodia’s sources, but that will have to wait for a few more years, despite the fringe benefits of such ownership,” he considered with disappointment, for even
his
vast wealth was currently insufficient to afford such a creature. But once he had established his new rule, then he could start saving the inordinate sums required.

“As you wish, father,” replied the girl, and turned into a separate branch, leaving the ruler to brood and dream, wondering what sort of recruits he would find in his care and how they would react to their training and the heady dark delights of his palace.