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OK, I admit it, we were three rich bitches. We had been abducted from an exclusive finishing school near Boston and taken south to a primitive slave training camp hidden deep in the woods. Our clothes were removed and, to discourage any escape attempt, our ankles were permanently shackled with heavy iron manacles connected by short chains.
We were assigned to a trainer who, to show her status in the camp, wore clothes. These consisted of boots, very short shorts that looked more like leather panties, and a corset that left her breasts exposed. She usually carried a riding crop that she occasionally used on us when we broke one of the rules.
Although the trainer attempted to befriend us and make us comfortable we were miserable. Not only were we prisoners, but the sun was damaging our delicate skin and the manacles were marking our ankles. To protect them we tried to move around as little as possible. We were also very dissatisfied with our living conditions. The place was dirty and there were no maids to clean it. We had to do everything ourselves, even make our own beds.
Our breaking point came one morning after breakfast when the trainer asked us to give oral sex to one of the male guards. We refused. We knew that she wasn’t allowed to mark our bodies so she couldn’t beat us or whip us hard. Although her riding crop hurt, we laughed at it, we were getting used to its sting. What else could she do to us?
“You girls have too much freedom,” she said. “But I don’t suppose you can appreciate it until you’ve lost it. It’s the same with most things in life.” She left us and returned with a muscular guard carrying several collars, chains and other fearsome looking objects which he dumped in a pile on the table. He measured our necks and fastened heavy iron collars snugly around them.
One of the collars lying on the table had spikes on the inside. “Aren’t you going to use this one?” the trainer asked, picking it up.
“No, ma’am. That comes later if these don’t do the job.”
The trainer put it down, positioning it prominently where we could all see it. The guard continued to work on us, manacling our hands behind our backs, bending our arms up and fastening the manacles to our collars with heavy chains. We couldn’t help looking at the fearsome spiked collar lying open and threatening on the table, and were glad that we had been fitted with smooth ones. The guard tightened the bolts of our bonds with a wrench and then chained our collars to the wall of the hut, forcing us to stand. When he had finished, the trainer thanked him.
The guard nodded and said, “I think that’ll hold ’em. If you have any problems call me and I’ll come back and fix it.” He picked up the things remaining on the table and left.
“I’m going to leave you for a while,” the trainer said. “While I’m gone I want you to think about your refusal to obey me. Perhaps next time I ask you to do something you will be more compliant.” She walked to the door and paused. “If anyone rapes you while I’m gone, be sure to let me know. I’ll try to get him reprimanded.” With these parting words she left us.
“Do you think she’s serious?” I asked.
“I doubt it,” said Cynthia. But the trainer’s words made us realize how vulnerable our bonds made us.
After a while our arms began to ache from being bent up in one position. We discussed the situation and decided we could endure the pain; it was better than giving oral sex to the guards. “If we give in now,” Cynthia said, “where will it end?” Thinking of the spiked collar, I was not as certain as the other two that we should continue our rebellion.
Time passed slowly. The ache in my arms grew worse and my doubts about the wisdom of our defiance increased. But I did not share these doubts with the others; I didn’t want to be the first one to give up.
After about an hour, the trainer returned. She was carrying a leather slapper instead of her usual riding crop. I feared she was going to beat us, but she cheerfully enquired, “How are you girls doing? Are you ready to begin your sex training yet?”
“No we are not,” said Cynthia. “We’ll never give in to your disgusting demands.”
Of the three of us, Cynthia had the strongest personality, and we let her speak on our behalf.
“Sex is not disgusting,” the trainer replied, “it’s healthy and normal. I want to teach you girls to give and receive pleasure from it.”
“How can we do that, you stupid bitch, if you keep us chained up in these revolting conditions,” retorted Cynthia.
“How dare you call me a bitch!” responded the trainer with some anger.
“I’ll call you what I want, you pervert,” said Cynthia, raising her voice.
“You’ll call me Mistress,” the trainer shouted back, striking Cynthia’s chest with her slapper, the impact making a loud noise.
“You sadistic bitch!” shouted Cynthia angrily. “Yes, go on, hit me with that thing you coward. You know I can’t hit you back.”
The trainer raised her arm as if to strike Cynthia across the face. She hesitated, then lowered her arm and stormed out of the hut.
“Nice one!” said Melanie.
“We’ve got to make a stand,” replied Cynthia. “I thought we’d all agreed.”
“Yes, we did,” I chimed in, “but I think you went a bit far.”
“You shouldn’t have called her a bitch,” said Melanie. “God knows what she’ll do now. She seemed really pissed.”
The trainer returned a few minutes later carrying a bag. She appeared to have calmed down. “What do you other two girls think?” she said. “Are the conditions here revolting?”
“Yes they are,” I said, wanting to support Cynthia. “The food is awful, there’s no TV or hot showers, and there are bugs all over the place.”
“How about you?” the trainer asked Melanie.
“I agree. The toilets are primitive, I can’t get a good nights sleep on those cheap mattresses, and there’s dirt everywhere.”
“I’ve had it with you three spoiled brats,” the trainer said. “This afternoon I’m going to show you what real dirt is. I want you to experience life in the raw, to live close to nature. Then perhaps you’ll appreciate civilization more.”
“We appreciate civilization quite well, thank you,” Cynthia quipped, “not that there’s much of it around here.”
“You have to learn to hold your tongue, young lady,” the trainer said. She pulled a red ball gag out of her bag and forced it into Cynthia’s mouth. She lifted Cynthia’s hair and buckled the strap tightly around her head. “From now on,” she continued, “the three of you will address me as ‘Mistress’. Any disrespect and you will be gagged. I’ve tried being nice to you, and that clearly has failed. I have more gags here. Would you two like to try them?”
“No, Mistress,” Melanie and I chorused.
The trainer picked up her bag, and walked out. She looked upset.
“What now?” asked Melanie.
Cynthia tried to say something but we couldn’t understand her.
“I think we have to be careful what we say to her,” Melanie observed.
Cynthia glared at her.
I was feeling depressed. It looked as if our situation had taken a turn for the worse.
I started to say, “I don’t think we have much of a chance.” but stopped abruptly when the trainer marched back into the hut.
“I forgot to ask you two whether you were ready to begin your sex training. You, Melanie, are you ready?”
“No I’m not,” said Melanie defiantly.
“And how about you?” she said looking at me.
My arms were aching and I had been undecided, but Melanie’s stout refusal stiffened my resistance. “Me neither,” I replied.
“Your refusal to call me ‘Mistress’ means that I will have to gag you both.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress. I forgot,” I said.
“It’s too late to be sorry,” said the trainer pulling a black ball gag out of the bag. She forced it into Melanie’s mouth and buckled the strap. She pulled another one out and approached me. I was not sure whether to defy her or not but she looked so determined that I obediently opened my mouth to accept it. It had a nasty taste and I couldn’t help exclaiming “Yuck!” as she pushed it in.”
“Don’t worry,” said the trainer. “It’s only disinfectant.”
She buckled the strap behind my head, pulling it tight.
“You three are going to stay like this all morning,” she said. “I’ve got a surprise planned for this afternoon. By tomorrow I think you will be more willing to obey me.”
She picked up the slapper and slapped Cynthia’s pussy. Cynthia squealed in surprise and tried to move out of the way.
“By refusing to give oral sex,” the trainer said, “you are also depriving yourselves of sex. These pussies of yours,” she said, continuing to tap Cynthia’s pussy with the slapper, “are going to get very lonely and frustrated. Soon you will be begging for the experience.”
Cynthia squirmed, trying to evade the relentless tapping. The trainer stopped and rubbed the edge of the slapper into Cynthia’s pussy before resuming tapping. Cynthia continued to squirm, but after a couple of minutes, she stopped moving and began to make little sounds through her gag.
The trainer had been studying Cynthia’s face, and suddenly stopped tapping. “That’s it girl, feel the desire. Feel the frustration of being unable to do anything about it. You don’t deserve sexual release, and you won’t get it till you’ve earned it.”
She turned her attention to Melanie and began alternately tapping and rubbing her pussy with the slapper. “You too Melanie, I want you to feel the desire. Doesn’t this feel nice? Isn’t it the best feeling? Don’t you want me to go all the way? Isn’t it the most important thing in the world, the thing you want most in the universe?”
The trainer stopped when she judged Melanie was on the verge of a climax. She judged well, Melanie flexed her thighs, trying to bring herself to a climax, but to no avail. The trainer watched her as she struggled, then said, “That’s right. There will be no reward for you Melanie. You have to give in order to get.”
The trainer turned her attention to me. “Now its your turn,” she said. She continued to say things to me, but I didn’t hear what she was saying, all my attention was directed to my clit. The slaps on my clit were painful, but stimulating at the same time. At first I tried to avoid the slapper, turning this way and that in a vain attempt to avoid the blows, but as I got turned on, the pain became erotic and I welcomed them. She rubbed the edge of the slapper between my lips. The friction stimulated my clit and sent electric tingles into me. I was getting strongly aroused and could feel my vagina getting really wet. I started panting around my gag and felt the drool running uncontrollably down my chin. I tried to open myself up; I wanted to accept the blows. They were deliciously erotic. I felt a climax approaching. Just a few more slaps and I would be there.
The slapping and the rubbing abruptly stopped, leaving me on the edge. I was so close, so very close. I whimpered. I felt as though I was on the verge of a really major orgasm, perhaps one of the best of my life. “Please, just a little more,” I begged incoherently into my gag.
“..feel the frustration,” the trainer was saying. “You will stand here in pain and frustration all morning. You three have to learn that only good girls get rewarded.”
She gave us all parting slaps on our clits. The impact made me jump, I was still very aroused and it almost brought me to the climax I so desperately wanted.
After she had gone we looked at each other. We were all in a sorry state. Melanie was still squeezing her thighs together; she must have been still turned on. We tried to talk, but it took too much effort, and was almost impossible to make ourselves understood. We lapsed into silence.
My jaw and my arms were aching and I didn’t see how I could last the rest of the morning. But I had no option, none of us did. We had to stand and suffer in silence.
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The trainer returned followed by a guard. I was extremely glad to see her. I thought her arrival signaled the end of our torment; she would have to release us so we could eat lunch. The trainer stood in front of Cynthia and pulled out her gag, but before Cynthia could enjoy her freedom, replaced it with a ring gag. She did the same to Melanie and then to me. The ring gag made the pain in my jaw worse; it felt as if it were holding my jaw open even wider.
A chilling thought struck me; perhaps we were going to be forced to perform oral sex. Wearing ring gags meant we couldn’t prevent penises entering our mouths. With my jaw in such pain this promised to be a terrible experience.
Once the trainer had secured our new gags to her satisfaction, the guard unfastened our collar chains from the wall. He bolted their ends to other collars so that we were linked in a line. He removed my chain entirely since I was last in line. Leaving the guard behind to clean up, the trainer led us out of the hut and into the lunch room. I felt relieved; it looked as though she was going to make us eat food instead of penises. But it was going to be very difficult to eat anything, gagged and bound as we were.
“Before I serve lunch,” the trainer announced, “you must each swallow one of these pills.”
The pills looked huge and I had no idea how we could possibly swallow them. I didn’t feel as though I could swallow anything with my mouth held wide open by the ring gag. Cynthia shook her head as if refusing. But the trainer had a long tube-like device and forced the pills down our throats. She gave us water to help wash them down.
A few minutes later, with much coughing and spluttering and with tears running down our cheeks we had each swallowed one.
She spooned an unappetizing dollop of some unidentifiable food onto each of our plates and said, “Lunch is served.”
None of us moved.
“I see you aren’t used to eating with these gags. Since you’re new here I’ll remove them, but any disrespect or disobedience and they go back in and stay in.”
She removed our gags. The relief was enormous, but I found my jaw still hurt and I couldn’t close it. I tried working it, but the range of motion seemed limited.
After several seconds I heard Cynthia speak. “That looks disgusting. What is it?”
“What did you say?” asked the trainer in a threatening voice.
“I meant, Mistress could you please tell us what that is.”
“It’s cat food,” said the trainer. “It’s all you will have to eat for the next few days.”
“I’d rather starve,” said Melanie softly and somewhat incoherently.
“I heard you Melanie,” said the trainer. “But believe me, that would be most unwise.”
None of us made any attempt to eat, so the trainer said, “If you’ve all finished lunch, we can get on with the next stage of your training.”
She motioned for us to follow her. It was awkward walking in the heavy shackles, and the stones hurt our feet and made us limp. Our slow pace did not please her so she whacked us in the rear ends with her riding crop and urged us to walk faster. She followed us as we shuffled forward.
The woods around the camp were rather beautiful with the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tall trees. But we were in no mood to enjoy the scenery. I was chained at the back of the line and she kept hitting me. It didn’t seem fair, she should have been smacking Cynthia at the front of the line if she wanted us to move faster. I couldn’t speed up on my own; I didn’t want my tits rubbing on Melanie’s back, or my pussy touching her rear end. We were not lesbians. The only redeeming aspect of the situation was that I could finally close my jaw.
The trainer guided us across the clearing into the shade of the trees where we saw that one large tree had a heavy chain wrapped around it with three lighter chains leading from it and lying on the ground. There were two bowls next to the tree, one containing moist slop and the other water. I wondered what kind of animal they were intended for; I hadn’t seen any pets or large animals in the compound, but the ants seemed to be enjoying the food. The trainer picked the chains up and locked the ends to our collars with three small padlocks.
“There you are girls. You will stay here until you release yourselves from this tree.”
“What do you mean?” asked Melanie.
“Mistress, unless you want to be gagged.”
“I’m sorry. Mistress, how can we release ourselves from the tree?”
“The only way is to get the keys and unlock the padlocks. Since you are chained together you will need all three keys. Once you do that, you can come back up to the main cabin and I’ll clean you with the hose. And don’t think of trying to escape; remember there’s a high barbed wire fence all around this compound.”
“Mistress, how do we get the keys?” I asked. “Have you hidden them somewhere?”
“You already have the keys,” the trainer replied. “They were in those pills you had for lunch and are now safely in your stomachs. In order to get them out, you will have to eat something and eventually you will excrete them.”
“Eeuww!” Melanie exclaimed.
“The more you eat,” the trainer continued, ignoring Melanie, “the faster they will pass through you. Since you all skipped lunch, I advise you to start eating right away.”
“But Mistress, there’s nothing to eat,” Cynthia complained.
“Yes there is. There’s cat food in that bowl,” the trainer said pointing to the bowl that contained slop. It looked like the same disgusting stuff she had offered us for lunch.
“I hope you girls don’t mind sharing. There should be enough there for all three of you for supper. Unless one of you gets greedy, of course,” she added with a smile.
I looked at the bowls with revulsion. There were insects on the food, and the water had leaves floating on it.
“By the way,” the trainer remarked, “I don’t know who has which key, so you will have to experiment to find the correct lock. And I advise you to clean the keys before trying them in the locks; you don’t want to gum up the mechanism.”
She walked away and called back to us, “Remember, all three of you will have to pass the keys in order to get free, so you’d better start eating. I’ll come back tomorrow to refill your food dish.”
We looked at each other in horror.