Gemma (15 page)

Minutes later, Gemma's eyes dilated in horror as she was placed on her back in what she instantly recognised as the boot of a large car. Flipped over onto her belly, she was powerless to resist as her bound legs were doubled up to her buttocks and her wrists linked to her ankles, the rope drawn cruelly tight, her spine forming a deep hollow as she was hog tied into immobility.

She couldn't even scream as hands burrowed beneath ruthlessly tensioned body to fasten on her breasts and nipples and she shook impotently as unwanted arousal surged and rolled through her in response to the merciless stimulation.

"Just a little taste, slave," the soft voice of the man she thought of as the Frenchman whispered in her ear. "Just enough to keep you amused until we reach our destination," and Gemma moaned in her need as the hands left her body and her surroundings went dark as the lid of the boot was closed over her helpless nudity.

The slam of the car doors and the whirr of the engine set Gemma struggling against her bonds, but the ropes were far too tight, pinching her flesh and she was forced to desist almost at once, able only to endure her cramped and increasingly uncomfortable bondage as best she could as the speeding car transported her towards the destination chosen for her by her two demanding Masters.

Masters who loved rope and the restrictions it could impose on a defenceless slave, shaping her to whatever position they desired and holding her in utter, helpless subjugation for them to enjoy.

Gemma had no illusions about her new Masters. The firm bite of the rope on her flesh and the persistent tingling of her aroused breasts left her in no doubt of what lay ahead and she groaned softly into her ball gag, praying that she would be able to please her two Masters and not incur too many punishments.

The only thing she knew for certain, was that she would try desperately hard to be pleasing.

Failure did not bear thinking about!

CHAPTER 7

Gemma lay on her right side on a low, hard single bed wondering just how much longer her new Masters proposed to leave her alone with her discomfort.

There was little else she could do, for her arms were bound behind her back by black nylon rope from her wrists all the way to well above her elbows, compressing her arms into a single column, straining her shoulders back and making her naked breasts thrust provocatively forward. Her legs, too, were a total lost cause, a second length of black rope looped around and around from ankles to mid-thighs. To add to her misery, a broad black leather gag-strap covered her face from nose to chin, its attached cylinder of hard leather wedged deep between her back teeth, reducing any protests she tried to make to muffled and quite unintelligible mumbles. She couldn't even turn over or change her position to ease her stiff muscles because ropes knotted about her slim throat stretched out to posts at the top of her bed, holding her fast, while others from her ankles to posts at the bottom, drew her body out to its full length.

How long she had been tied in this uncomfortable manner, Gemma had no way of telling and the windowless room provided no clues to help her. From the aching of her limbs, it could have been hours and she was miserably aware that it could be hours more before her Masters decided to return to her and even then, they might not choose to release her. The only certainty was that she wasn't going anywhere until somebody decided to let her go....if they ever did!

Lifted from the boot of the car by her giant Master's strong arms, her still hogtied body cradled against his muscular chest, Gemma had been carried swiftly to a windowless room and placed face down on a hard single bed. When the rope linking her wrists and ankles was released, her doubled legs had flopped limply, numbed from their long confinement and able to present no resistance as the white rope binding her ankles was released but immediately replaced with black. Rolled over onto her back, she watched helplessly as the Frenchman lifted her legs and began to pass the long coil of rope around and around, pulling each turn snug and clamping her legs immovably together. Inch by inch, turn by turn, the rope crept higher and Gemma gaped as her suntanned calves began to disappear beneath a layer of tight black rope. Just below her knees, he had paused for a moment to remove the white rope tying her knees together, but then he had resumed and her knees and several inches of her thighs had vanished beneath his rope. By the time he tied the final tight knot and stood back to admire his handiwork, Gemma's tanned legs had been all but invisible, only her feet and top few inches of her thighs emerging from a seamless cocoon of black nylon rope!

It was a quite extraordinary sight, the contrast between her pale flesh and the blackness of her bonds emphasising her helplessness in a most dramatic fashion. Nor was her bondage only for show as Gemma had soon discovered as she attempted to move. Her legs, effectively glued together from ankles to crotch, could no longer bend and Gemma had seriously doubted whether she would have been able to get off the bed and stand up, let alone walk, even if her arms had been free!

She was saved the trouble of trying to decide, when her Masters had flipped her back over onto her belly and untied her wrists. With the example of their bondage skills fresh in her mind, Gemma had guessed instantly that her arms were about to be bound in the same way as her legs and had done her best to resist, her fingers clawing blindly, remembering how horribly uncomfortable and hopelessly vulnerable she had felt when her trainers had laced her arms into the inescapable leather of a single glove. To have the same done to her with rope would, she had imagined, be far worse.

Unfortunately, Gemma had forgotten two things. Firstly, that her elbows had also been lashed firmly together and secondly, that these Masters would brook no disobedience whatever from a slavegirl. She moaned in bitter futility as strong hands evaded her sharp fingernails and seized her wrists in a crushing grip, then gave a muffled yip of unexpected pain as a cruelly hard double handed smack exploded against her tender buttocks.

Tears of pain and defeat in her eyes, Gemma had surrendered to the inevitable, making no further attempts to defy her Masters' will and restricting her protests to winces and gasps of consternation as rope tightened on her flesh, squeezing her wrists, then her forearms and, finally and most uncomfortably of all, her elbows together into a solid, aching mass.

Then they had removed her gag, exchanging it for a much larger and more effective version, remaining impervious to Gemma's pleas and promises as she had used the few seconds of vocal freedom permitted her to try to persuade them to be more lenient with her.

The gag, inserted and buckled tightly, had ended the one sided conversation and Gemma had only been able to watch in mute frustration as her neck and ankles were leashed to the bedposts.

Bound as she was, utterly at their mercy and hopelessly vulnerable, Gemma's tautly proffered breasts had presented her Masters with a tempting and quite irresistible opportunity.

One which they had no intention of missing!

Juddering in her bonds, whimpering in helpless need, Gemma had been forced to respond passionately as their lips and tongues nibbled and rolled and sucked at her excruciatingly sensitive nipples until the twin rigid knobs had throbbed and quivered with unbearable arousal and Gemma had begged into her gag to be given the slave's climax she desired so desperately.

The calculated callousness of their laughing refusal was a devastating shock to the pleading brunette....but no more devastating than the gigantic tidal waves of thrillingly submissive arousal which crashed and pounded through her helplessly trussed body as her ruthless Masters demonstrated their absolute authority over her and taught her that, while she wore the collar of a slave, they and not she controlled every facet of her very existence.

Even to the extent of granting...or witholding.... the pleasure she would be permitted!

With every nerve ending in her body tingling with a fervent desire that was doomed to remain unsatisfied...at least temporarily...Gemma had fought a desperate losing battle against her bondage, her most strenuous and persistent efforts failing utterly to win even a fractional loosening of the ropes binding her and her failure adding to the shameful pleasure she felt in her helplessness.

Bound by her Masters and aroused for their tittilation and amusement, Gemma had at last abandoned her escape attempts and allowed herself to succumb to the seductive allure of powerlessness. Nothing she could do could alter their plans for her, nothing she could do could save her from her fate and as she had reluctantly accepted the inevitably of her subjugation by the two men, Gemma savoured the bitter-sweet mixture of delicious arousal, infuriating frustration and nervous apprehension which she had learned were the unavoidable consequences of the slave collar she wore about her neck.

Gagged, she had not even been able to express her fury at being so cruelly thwarted as her Masters had taken their hands from her and walked off without even a backward glance, leaving her massively aroused, but unable to achieve the orgasm which she had so nearly, but not quite, reached!

Buoyed up by the hope that they would return quickly and complete her surrender, Gemma had relaxed as best she could, enjoying the heat simmering in her belly and trying to ignore the increasing discomfort of her bound limbs.

She had waited...and waited...and waited...

Gemma was still waiting, the heat of her arousal long cooled and replaced by the unceasing aches of her tightly bound limbs, her earlier optimism given way to a growing fear that her Masters were never coming back!

For perhaps the hundredth time her arms and legs tensed against the unforgiving ropes securing her and, also for the hundredth time, failed to make the slightest impression, her body remaining exactly where her Masters had bound her.

As if on cue, the door of the room opened and Gemma swallowed nervously as her Masters strode towards her, then bent and began to untie the ropes leashing her neck and ankles to the bed posts. Deprived of their steadying influence, Gemma rolled helplessly onto her back, her right hip and shoulder aching fiercely, but her physical discomfort vanished as if it had never been as she noticed that the two men left the room for a moment, then returned with their hands full.

The smaller of the two, the "Frenchman," carried a tangle of ropes and pulleys, while the giant toted a step ladder. While Gemma watched with mounting unease, the giant set the ladder in the middle of the room, took one end of the set of pulleys and climbed the steps with it in his hand.. The "Frenchman" meanwhile untwisted the tangled ropes and Gemma felt an icy chill invade her stomach as she realised they were setting up some sort of hoist or lifting gear!

High up in the white painted ceiling, the giant hooked his end of the hoist to an almost invisible white painted ring, tested it to make sure it was secure, then climbed down.

"OK, it's fixed."

"Good. I'm almost ready here."

Gemma's eyes followed the ropes running through the hoist's pulleys, up, down, up and then down again and she gave a muffled whimper of terrified understanding as she saw a broad webbing loop dangling from a hook beneath the lower set of pulleys.

"I'll take her shoulders, you get her feet," the giant ordered and Gemma wrenched wildly at her bonds but could manage little more than a side to side rocking of her body as her Masters bent over her. An explosive grunt of despair burst from Gemma's flaring nostrils as the webbing strap was looped around her ankles and clipped into the hook and she stared frantically down past her naked, heaving breasts and the roped columns of her legs as the smaller of her Masters went to the hoist and began to take up the slack.

Gemma legs kicked feebly, the strongest resistance she could make, as rope snaked through the pulleys and the ratchet clicked, but she could not slip her ankles from the webbing band and gave a great moan of anguish as the strap tightened and her legs began to rise.

Frozen in disbelief, she watched her bound legs lifted until they angled up sharply and only her buttocks and spine remained in contact with the bed, and still the ratchet clicked.

Hands at her shoulders gripped her firmly, preventing any movement and she stared up wildly into the piercing blue eyes of her giant Master as her buttocks rose into the air, the click of the ratchet slowing as her weight came on to the hoist.

Slowing, but not stopping and Gemma squealed in fear as her shoulders lifted clear of the bed and he eased her clear of the bed posts, her dark hair hanging beneath her to sweep the floor as she was positioned directly beneath the hoist!

Still not stopping even then as her body, head down and suspended by her ankles, rose further until her horrified, gagged face hung some four feet above the floor.

The clicking of the ratchet stopped and Gemma trembled wildly, whimpering in anguish as her body began a slow spin and she saw the hard smiles on the upside down faces of her Masters move slowly into and out of her vision as she turned.

A hand came to rest on her hip, ending the disorientating spin, but her gratitude lasted only a few brief moments as it slid across her buttocks and was joined by a second hand, the pair roaming freely across her rounded cheeks and upper thighs as one of her Masters fondled and kneaded the resilient flesh so enticingly and conveniently available to him.

The half of Gemma's face visible above the gag strap burned a vivid scarlet as an extended finger probed the shadowed crack between her buttocks, breaching the tight ring of her rear entry and penetrating her with embarrassing ease despite the vain clenching of her muscles. Her other Master sent his hands to her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers and thumbs and Gemma squealed breathily as the heady combination rekindled the flame of her earlier passion.