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Author's Note: This is result of a collaborative effort between me and mrhungry. As always, please leave comments so I know if this is any good.
Update (2012/05/01): More comments please! You know I like to know what you think.
Update (2012/06/18): Taking it up a notch here. Please let me know what you think, I really like reading your comments!
She read the advertisement for the hundredth time. It was short, the font small, and it was unobtrusive on the webpage, as if the sponsor didn't want it to attract attention. There was no link to another website, just a name and a phone number. Could it possibly be genuine? And if it was... did she have the nerve to follow it up?
Amanda appraised the man she had come to meet as he sat at the hotel bar, unaware of her presence. He was in his mid-forties, attractive, wore a well-cut and expensive suit, but she could tell that the body underneath it was toned and powerful - which seemed to back up what he had told her on the phone, that he was ex-Special Forces. She could certainly imagine, under different circumstances, being attracted to him, but right now she needed to be careful and focus. She continued to watch the man, and the activity in the bar, for the next ten minutes. Once she was satisfied that he wasn't being observed by anyone else, she approached him.
"Mr Janes? Hello, I'm Charlotte Burton, we spoke on the phone." She hoped that the use of her middle name and unmarried surname, along with the brunette wig and dark glasses, would protect her identity, at least until she was sure about this guy. They shook hands, he ordered her a drink, and they moved to a table out of earshot of the other patrons.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Miss Burton. Let me reassure you once again that everything you say or do, now and in the future, will be treated in strictest confidence. Now, how can I help?"
Before she replied, Amanda took out a small device that scanned for transmissions, and waved it in his direction. Satisfied, she put it back in her bag.
"Would you turn out your pockets, please, Mr Janes? I need to check that you have no recording devices on you." He did as she asked, placing his Blackberry, which he now switched off, on the table.
"You can also frisk me for wires if you like," he offered, taking off his jacket. She took him up on the offer, running her hands over his chest, around his waist, and even feeling his thighs. She liked what she felt, but didn't find any concealed electronics. His calm reaction to being searched helped to settle her nerves, and reinforced his claim of offering the confidential service she so desperately needed.
"I hope you don't mind, I've been deceived before," Amanda explained as they both returned to their seats.
"No problem, a wise precaution," he smiled, "shall we continue?"
Amanda looked around nervously before she spoke. "I am interested in the services you offer, Mr Janes. But I need to understand how you would go about ... delivery."
"Certainly, Miss Burton," Janes began smoothly. "Obviously, I cannot reassure you with tales of my many satisfied clients, as that would compromise their confidentiality. So, I will describe my methods, so you can see that I operate in a strictly professional manner.
"Firstly, let me reassure you that there is nothing illegal in what we do. Only consenting adults are involved and we will do nothing you have not already asked for. Secondly, you are always in control. You say exactly what you want to happen, when, where, and for how long. This is achieved by having you complete a detailed questionnaire which documents your requirements."
"What if I don't want to be in control?" Amanda asked, nervously sipping her drink.
"In that case, you set your limits, and we deliver a range of experiences based on those instructions. So, while you will have no idea exactly what will happen, you know it will not go further than you wish. It can be as out of control as you make it. Would you mind giving me an idea of the kind of experience you would be looking for?"
Amanda realised her hands were shaking as she put her drink down. She was nervous, but incredibly excited.
"I wish to be ... dominated," she replied, finding it difficult to articulate her needs. "My fantasies are pretty ... extreme.
"That's no problem at all," Janes replied calmly, recognising and accepting her embarrassment, "you can indicate areas of particular interest when you complete the questionnaire.
"To execute most of the scenarios specified by clients, I have a couple of actors on retainer from the adult film industry - porn stars if you like. There are a number of reasons for this - they are professionals, and used to acting out sexual fantasies; they understand the need for confidentiality; they are clean, as they have to be tested for STI's every month - you will also need to be tested and certified, by the way; and they are, generally, physically attractive, as this is their livelihood. I also use specialists for specific work, people I have known and worked with for many years and trust completely."
He paused, and looked at the nervous woman, in her rather obvious disguise, seated across from him.
"So, do you have any questions for me?"
The young woman could feel her heart pounding and was struggling to think straight.
"How do I get started?"
Janes smiled briefly and handed her a computer disk.
"This will install a program on your computer which will take you through the questionnaire. When you're happy with your responses, it will send them to me in encrypted form. Have you done the kind of things you want to try with us before?"
Amanda considered lying, but suspected it would be a bad idea. She shook her head, feeling rather pathetic.
"Thank you for being honest," Janes said, giving her an encouraging look, "I would therefore advise a 'taster' session - a limited scenario, maybe two or three hours only, in a neutral environment - maybe this hotel - where you try a selection of the things which really interest you. Then you can decide if this is going to work for you. What do you think?"
Amanda nodded gratefully at the suggestion. She looked down at the disk in her hand and wondered what she was letting herself in for.
She was still wondering a week later, as she sat on the edge of the bed in the hotel room. At 26, Amanda Beale had already had an eventful life. Her dating of Piers Beale, heir to his father's fortune and a notorious lothario, had taken her from the quiet anonymity of university life to the gossip columns of every tabloid newspaper in Britain, and a few of the quality papers too. She was a young, attractive blonde, which made her picture on the front page, as she and Piers fell out of a nightclub or into a taxi, almost a daily event.
The 'whirlwind romance', as the papers insisted on calling it, became a summer wedding less than six months later, complete with the obligatory celebrity spread in OK! magazine. Less than six months after that, she had caught Piers in bed with the first of a string of 'leggy lovelies', as they were known in the tabloids. She had forgiven him, then and many times after that - unfortunately, she was in love, and believed him each time he said he would change. The marriage lurched on for five years until, bizarrely, he divorced her, citing irreconcilable differences. The divorce hearings had been a media circus, as Piers attempted to smear her name and character in court, in an ultimately vain attempt to keep his money in the settlement. He revealed pictures he had taken of her when they had first met - she was paying her way through university, working briefly as a pole dancer (quite a few 'respectable' girls have put themselves through university this way and don't see themselves as 'sex workers', just dancers) - and details of their sex life, and how she had, on one drunken evening, asked him to 'tie her up and ravish her', as he put it.
The headlines said it all - "DEPRAVED!" From that moment on, it was like she was a hunted animal, and there were no holds barred the tabloids were tracking their prey. Her phone had been hacked, long-lens photos of her in her bedroom were published, and her bins were ransacked for information. She had been doorstepped, 'papped' and generally harassed by the press for months. But the worst intrusion was the sting operation she had been targeted with. The guy had been good-looking, charming, and thoughtful, right up until the point where he had got her naked, gagged and tied to the bed. Then the camera had come out. He made a fortune selling the video and stills to a whole range of publications, but it had merely cemented her image in the public imagination as a 'depraved slut'.
Since then, for nearly twelve months, she had lived as a virtual recluse. Now here she was, about to risk everything in some mad attempt to satisfy those dark and dirty desires which had got her into trouble in the first place. She was jolted out of her reverie when the phone rang.
"There are two gentlemen in reception asking for you, Miss," the female receptionist said, "shall I send them up?" Amanda tried to clear her head and think straight. Her mind was telling her this was a bad idea - she was putting herself in the perfect position to be screwed, both literally and figuratively. She had no proof that these guys weren't paparazzi, ready to strip her naked and photograph her, just like had happened before. The thought sent a shiver through her body. Her body - that was the problem. While her head was full of doubts, her body had no doubt at all - it was telling her to go through with this, it wanted this, it needed this. She had never needed anything so much.
"Excuse me, Miss?" the reception prompted, wondering what was going on. Amanda finally managed to stammer out her assent.
Now she started to panic, the way you do when receiving 'gentlemen callers' - checking her breath, straightening her dress, fiddling with her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror - the little black dress hugged her slender figure nicely, the stockings made her legs look even better, and the high heels made her seem considerably taller than her 5ft 3 in. She knew she looked good, but these guys were used to dealing with - and fucking - gorgeous women, what would they think of her? She had that all-too-familiar feeling of being frumpy, inadequate and full of nervous excitement, like a teenager on a first date.
The knock on the door made her jump. When she looked through the spyhole, she was surprised by the sight of the two men, dressed in dark suits, one was even carrying a briefcase, and she wondered for a moment if they were two businessmen who had got the wrong room. Both looked smart, both were tall and well-built under their suits. One, who was smiling, had short, dark hair and was clean-shaven, while the other one was bald, with a well-trimmed moustache and beard. He had a look that frightened her - he looked mean and angry, like he resented being here and was going to take it out on whoever he could.
Suddenly, her fragile confidence deserted her, her fears overcame her hopes and desires, and she decided she couldn't go through with this, it was just too risky and too... perverted. She resolved to say 'Thanks, but no thanks', get herself out of this soulless hotel room and back to reality, even if it was a rather mundane reality.
She started to open the door, but as soon as she did so, it was slammed back at her, knocking her backwards. She caught her heel on the carpet and fell, knocking the wind out of her as she hit the floor. She was dimly aware of the two men barging into the room before she was flipped on to her stomach and felt her arms being grabbed. As she opened her mouth to suck in air, she found it filled by a fat rubber ball, which was pulled sharply in behind her teeth as the straps of its harness were tightened around her head. It was a terrifying feeling - even though she had fantasised many times about being properly gagged, the tightness, speed, and roughness with which it had been done were frightening.
She craned her neck and saw that Mr Angry, as she called him in her head, had his knee in the small of her back and was holding her arms behind her. Amanda felt rope pulling her wrists together and digging into her skin, and she was somewhere between heaven and hell. She tried to struggle, but the man slapped her hard across the cheek for it. By the time she had recovered from the shock of that, the rope was knotted and, try as she might, she could not get free.
Now rope was being wound around her elbows, pulled cruelly tight and tied off. As she tried to come to terms with the sudden pain in her shoulders, Amanda found herself being dragged to her feet by her hair, and she was staring into the eyes of the clean-shaven man, while Mr Angry held onto her blonde mane and pulled her head back. The man's mouth was smiling, but not his eyes - they were cold and seemed to hint at distaste, if not outright hatred.
"So, you're the stupid cunt we have to fuck today, yeah?" he stated, the contempt dripping from every word. Amanda shook her head and tried to tell him she had changed her mind, but the ball in her mouth was too big, all that escaped her lips were inarticulate mumblings and a stream of drool. The man's smile seemed to widen as he saw the terror in her eyes.
"Let's get this bitch ready. She's paying for this, so let's make sure she gets her money's worth."
He took off his jacket and knelt down to remove an expandable spreader bar from his briefcase. Moments later her ankles had been secured to the bar and her legs had been forced about three feet apart.
Amanda watched in helpless dismay as the man used a pair of scissors to cut her lovely black dress from neckline to hemline, slicing through the shoulder straps before removing it from her body and tossing it away. He moved on to her bra, bought only that morning from La Senza, and in three swift snips had reduced it to a useless rag which joined her dress on the floor. She had always been rather unhappy with her B cup breasts, but as the gorgeous man in front of her fondled them and tweaked her nipples erect, she was in ecstasy, her eyes closing as the wonderful sensations coursed through her body.
She felt a sudden sharp pain in her left nipple, and opened her eyes in time to watch the second clamp closing on her right nipple. The pain was unexpected and intense, making her cry out into the muffling gag, and squirm to try and dislodge the vicious metal jaws. She quickly realised this only made matters worse, and decided to keep still. The smile on the man's face was still there, but now it seemed to be taunting her.
The scissors were back and, in seconds, her thong was shredded. The man sniffed it, then rubbed it in her face, and she could feel her wetness and smell the stink of her arousal. She was now naked, except for her suspender belt, stockings and heels. God, she wished she could see herself at that moment, she was certain she had never looked sexier.
The tail of rope hanging down from her wrists was suddenly pulled upwards, and she found herself forced to bend forward as her arms were pulled up into the air. She was left bent nearly double, with her arms straight up in the air above her, tied off to the light fitting in the ceiling. Her shoulders, aching before, now screamed in protest at this unnatural angle.
"Don't bother with the lubricant," she heard Smiler say, "her cunt's wet enough to lube it for you."
Amanda let out a moan of desperate arousal as she felt something fat being pushed into her dripping cunt. She struggled against the ropes holding her arms up, feeling even more pain shooting through her shoulders, as Mr. Angry began to probe her pussy with the dildo. The incredible sensation the dildo was creating was nearly negated by the overwhelming embarrassment Amanda felt at how aroused she was quickly becoming, and at the thought that the depraved things being forced upon her were at her own request. She also knew, without a doubt, that she was helpless to stop him from continuing for as long as he wished. Her face flushed bright red at the realisation that, despite her feelings of outrage and horror at being treated like this, it was what she had craved for so long.
The abuse continued, harshly, methodically. Amanda gripped the rope pulling her hands up behind her as her body responded to the abuse. Another moan escaped the rubber ball lodged in her mouth and she shook her head as she felt her arousal rising even higher. She stood on her toes, trying to escape the assault, trying to escape the orgasm that she felt creeping up on her. But then her body took over and she lowered herself onto the dildo, seeking the pleasure that was only moments away.
Amanda screamed into the gag as the dildo was removed and she felt Mr. Angry's hands roughly kneading and slapping her buttocks. She found herself incredibly aroused, more so than she had ever expected, and that frightened her. Yes, she wanted to be submissive, she wanted someone else to be in control, and therefore responsible for her wantonness, as she saw it. But did that mean she wanted to be treated like a piece of shit by these two goons? From the way her body was reacting, it seemed so.
All this was driven from her mind when she felt the tails of a flogger whipped hard across her buttocks. It hurt like hell, and she struggled and screamed as much as she could, which was not very much, and achieved even less. Why had she told them she would be okay with pain? How could she have possibly thought this would be in any way enjoyable? She wanted it to stop, right now, and she was sure that, despite the gag and the ropes, that must be clear to both men standing over her. But it didn't stop, they carried on hitting her as hard as they could, ignoring her muffled screams. Each of them held a whip, and the blows just kept on coming.
Her buttocks felt as if they were on fire as the beating continued, but the worst part was when the leather strands strayed between her legs, flicking against her wet, swollen and incredibly sensitive labia. The pain was excruciating, and soon hot tears were dripping onto the carpet below her, alongside the strings of saliva which had been forced out of her mouth around the ballgag by her screams. Maybe this was what she had wanted - to be forced to endure this pain, completely unable to stop what was happening to her...
At last the whipping ended. As she raised her head to see what was happening, she watched the two men as they calmly took off their clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the chair. As they turned towards her, her eyes opened wide in astonishment - she had never seen anyone with a penis that big, and here were two of them, and they were about to be used on her!
Mr Angry went behind her and, before she could steel herself for what was to come, her cunt was filled by the man's impressive shaft, and she heard his thighs slapping against her stinging buttocks. The effect this sudden and violent sex was causing shocked her. Her brain resisted acknowledging the arousal she felt, but her body had no such qualms. She couldn't hold herself back even if she'd wanted to, and within half a dozen strokes, she screamed in an intense climax.
If she'd expected him to stop banging away at her just because she'd cum, she was very much mistaken. He was a porn star, she remembered, and could probably keep this up for hours! As she was buffeted by his violent thrusts, her head was lifted by the hair, and she found herself staring at the groin of Smiler. With a flick of a finger, he released the pop stud holding the ballgag to the head harness and pulled it from her aching jaws. A long stream of saliva overflowed her bottom lip and ran down her chin, but Amanda didn't care, consumed with lust now, she only had eyes for the cock pointing into her face.
As the firm flesh of his erect member passed between her lips, another of her fantasies was fulfilled. To be penetrated at both ends simultaneously had been a dream for as long as she had known about sex. For it to happen with two total studs with the weapons to match, and while she was helplessly bound, was unbelievable. Mr Janes had certainly delivered what he'd promised.
But she had to get her mind back into the present as she found herself choking on the cock which filled her mouth, and had now started to block her airway. She felt her face becoming red and her consciousness start to flutter as each thrust into her cunt forced her further onto the shaft in front of her. At last he pulled back, and she gulped down some much needed air. But as soon as she had recovered a little, he slid his cock back between her lips and deep inside her, until she was gagging and choking once more.
Somewhere in all this, Amanda climaxed a second time - her first ever multiple orgasm, and still there were no signs of the men tiring. She was not used to the taste of semen in her mouth, having only rarely given head, but as Smiler started to issue little spurts of pre-cum into her mouth, she was desperate to take whatever he gave her.
Everything came to a tremendous climax at once. As Amanda started to cum for the third time, the contraction of her vaginal muscles caused the cock inside her to finally spasm and shoot its load. As if on a signal - which may well have been the case - her mouth filled with cum and she swallowed as fast and as greedily as she could. However, Smiler pulled out and squirted her across the face, adding a little more to the humiliation she was feeling over her reaction to this abuse.
Amanda was sweating and exhausted by this point, but the two men were barely even breathing hard. They released her from the strappado, allowing her to straighten up, for which she was very grateful. But before she could say a word, the gag was back in her mouth, and she realised that maybe they weren't finished with her yet.
She was relieved when Smiler took the clamps from her nipples, but that was before she realised just how painful it would be, once the blood returned to the pinched flesh. She wanted to rub them and nurse them, the way you would a bumped elbow or bruised shin, but with her arms still tied behind her, that was not an option. Suffering in muffled silence was her only option, so she did.
Smiler wasn't done with her breasts, though. She watched as he wound some kind of flex around each of them, tightening it until each looked like small red balls stuck to her chest. He took the lengths of flex and passed them around the sturdy light fitting from which her arms had been hung. Both strands were pulled tight until Amanda was standing as straight as she could in an attempt to take the pressure off her breasts. But each time she found a little slack, Smiler took it away until finally he tied the cables off, leaving the young woman half-suspended by her breasts. This was definitely not pleasant, the position she was in was surely too extreme for her to get any pleasure, and she prayed that he would release her soon.
Whilst this was going on, Mr Angry picked up a wand vibrator which had been laid out on the bed, and attached it to a metal pole which clipped on to the spreader bar between her ankles, bringing the wand level with her crotch. He tied it against her body, wrapping the ropes around her hips and thighs, pressing the head of the vibrator so tightly to her that, when he spread her labia open, it squashed against her still-engorged clitoris. Then he switched it on.
Amanda's world changed from one of pain and discomfort to one filled with an overwhelming sensation of pleasure and arousal. Suddenly the pulling of the flex on her tightly bound breasts, which she had desperately been trying to lessen, was being made worse by her own writhing and squirming in response to the stimulation of the vibrator, and she didn't care. It was all good - no, it was all fantastic!
She became dimly aware of things outside of herself and she looked to see what the two men were doing now. Both men were getting dressed and they were packing away the few pieces of bondage gear they had not left on her body.
"We're just going downstairs to have a couple of drinks, but we'll be back," Smiler said as he squeezed one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
"Then I'm gonna ream that tight little arse for you, bitch!" It was the first time Mr Angry had spoken, and he also gave her an evil leer, which scared Amanda even more than his angry look. He slapped her hard on the buttock to emphasise his point, making her squeal in response.
To her dismay, they walked out of the door without even a backward glance, leaving her bound and suspended, about to cum. She tried to call out to them, but her cries for attention turned quickly to cries of ecstasy as the vibrator forced her to orgasm, making her twist and shudder in her bondage.
As the pleasure passed, the pain returned. Worst was the pressure on her tortured breasts, cruelly bound and being pulled towards the ceiling, but there was also still the residual pain from the nipple clamps and the beating she had taken across her buttocks. Added to that were the muscle cramps she was suffering in her shoulders, her thighs, and her calves from the extreme bondage position in which she was held. And she couldn't forget the vibrator, which was now tormenting her over-stimulated clitoris.
Why had she allowed this to happen, she asked herself for the hundredth time. She looked at the clock and realised that all that had happened to her so far had only taken just over an hour - there were another two to go before she would be released. And the threat of being anally raped was really scaring her - she already knew how big these guys were, how her pussy had been stretched to the limit. How in hell could she take it up there? Somehow, she had to stop them.
She struggled to pull herself off the vibrator, but it was no use, it was tied far too well in place. As she contemplated her position - bound, gagged, suspended, alone, in pain, and still being stimulated - she realised she was exactly where she had always dreamed of being. Her darkest fantasies were being made real, here in this anonymous hotel room. As that realisation hit her, pain once more transformed to pleasure and she knew she was heading unstoppably towards another intense orgasm. As she came down from that incredible high, she started to cry at her own stupidity at allowing her libido to overrule all rational thought.
Her whole world seemed to shrink to the alternating bouts of pain and pleasure. She rapidly became exhausted, and anxiously watched the clock as it crept around. But then she heard a knock on the door and the sound of the lock releasing. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved that she might soon be released, or scared that, before she was, she was going to suffer even more. She definitely came down on the side of scared.
The door opened and Amanda was shocked to see a cleaning cart being pushed into the room, followed by a maid.
"Turn down service, would you like me to -" the woman called out, before she looked up and saw the naked and bound figure in front of her. Her look of surprise and shock would, in any other situation, have been comical, but Amanda found nothing to laugh at.
"Oh my God!" the maid cried, before running over to her, "Are you alright, madam? I'll call the manager, he will call the police! Who did this to you?"
She went over to the phone and picked it up, but before she dialled, she turned at the sound of Amanda's desperate muffled cries, and saw her frantically shaking her head.
"What's wrong, madam? You don't want me to call the manager?" Amanda continued to shake her head as if her life depended on it - and in a way it did. She knew she had to get free before the two men returned, otherwise she was really going to suffer. But if anyone else found out about this, it would get out - either the manager or someone in the police would make a small fortune selling this story - and she would be crucified all over again. How could she have been so stupid! Somehow, she had to try and contain the damage. The maid seemed to have got the message - she had put the phone down and come back to stand in front of Amanda.
"So," she said with a smile, "who did this to you? Your husband? Your boyfriend? Is this a little game you play to spice things up?" It seemed like a much safer and more believable explanation than the truth, so Amanda nodded her head.
"And I guess he's gone to the bar, to let you ... savour the moment?" Again, the bound woman nodded.
"That looks rather painful, though," she went on, "would you like me to get you down?" Amanda eagerly nodded, wanting desperately to get out of this horrible situation.
To Amanda's immense relief, the maid switched off the vibrator, and concentrated on releasing her from her suspended breast bondage. She then helped her over to the bed, which was difficult with the spreader bar still strapped between her ankles. Amanda sat down and let the woman lay her down on the bed to recover.
"Ooh, those boobs look really quite painful. You poor thing!" the maid said, and gently massaged them to ease the soreness. Amanda winced at the woman's touch initially, but soon felt the pain ease. She looked quizzically at her and made a garbled attempt to speak. She was rewarded when the ball was popped from her mouth.
"Oh thank you so much for helping me," she said sincerely, "do you think you could untie me, please?"
"I don't think your boyfriend would be very happy if I did that, would he?"
"Oh, he wouldn't mind, honestly," Amanda lied, "Sorry, what's your name?"
"Carla," the maid replied.
"Hi, Carla, I'm Charlotte," Amanda went on, wanting to establish some kind of rapport with the other woman. The she had a sudden idea, "my boyfriend and I have a bet - if I can get free before he comes back, he buys me dinner and champagne, if I don't ... well, I'm sure you can imagine! If you untie me, I'll give you £50!"
"Wow!" Carla smiled, "that's a pretty good tip. But I wonder what he'll give me if I don't free you?" As Amanda begged her to release her and struggled against the ropes, the maid resumed fondling her. Her caresses were gentle and sensuous at first, but it seemed to Amanda that the woman was becoming bolder and her touch harsher with each passing minute.
"Now shush, love, stop complaining. I've done this loads of times, and I've never had any complaints before! You're a very sexy young girl, and I love sexy young girls! Never had one tied up and helpless, though. Pretty kinky, but ... it means I can have my wicked way with you!"
"No, please Carla...please don't..." Amanda cried out as she struggled to avoid the maid's advances. She couldn't believe she was being felt up by a maid! She'd never had any kind of relationship with a woman, and she really didn't want to start now.
"Quiet now, Charlotte, I'm sure you don't want me to gag you again, do you? Just lie back and enjoy it." The woman's hands roamed across Amanda's naked, bound, and tortured flesh, kneading her breasts and stroking her nipples gently until they were fully erect. It didn't take long before Amanda was responding in a much more positive way as Carla's fingers expertly aroused her. She arched her back and found her breathing becoming laboured as the fingers played across her stomach, to be replaced by warm, soft lips brushing her right nipple, engulfing it, allowing the tongue to tease it as the breast was sucked in. Attention now switched to her left breast, but Amanda's attention was all on the fingers as they gently parted her labia and sought out her clitoris. Earlier, it had seemed that she had been stimulated beyond the point where she gained any pleasure from it, but now she realised just how wrong she was.
"Oh God, that feels so good!" she breathed, writhing uncontrollably under the other woman's touch. Carla adjusted her position, moving herself down the bound woman's body until she could slide her tongue between those swollen lips and onto the clitoris she had been toying with. Her fingers now probed inside Amanda, bringing a gasp of surprise and pleasure. The combination of the maid's playful attention to Amanda's clit and her fingers stroking her pussy was beginning to drive the helpless woman wild. Soon, she had worked three, then four fingers, inside.
"Oh my God! You can't! Please, that's too much!" Amanda protested weakly as she felt the maid trying to add her thumb to the fingers already thrust into her dripping vagina.
"Oh fuck! Yes! Yes! Oh god, Yes!!" she screamed as the whole hand slowly forced its way inside her, pressing against her G-spot and making her climax almost instantly.
It was obvious to Amanda that the maid must have done this many times, as she had said. She was shocked that the woman had been able to get her entire hand into her pussy, and even though it had hurt, it seemed to happen so easily! She knew she was soaking wet from her arousal, but the feel of the maid's hand, rubbing her inside, stroking her G-spot, slurping in and out, made her light headed as she came again.
Her breaths came in gasps as she climaxed, realising now that Carla's hand was outside of her and rubbing her juices over her pubis. Slowly she returned to Earth and began to feel her heart rate slow. She looked up to see the woman who had just given her such an incredible orgasm reach under her skirt and pull down her knickers, before stepping out of them.
"Now, love," Carla said as she climbed on to the bed and straddled the bound woman, "one good turn deserves another..."
Amanda could do nothing as the woman positioned her thighs either side of her face and slowly lowered herself.
"Come on, Charlotte," she urged, "if you do a really good job, I'll untie you afterwards."
Amanda felt like she had no option but to do what she was being asked if she wanted to get out of this situation. It seemed she had been abandoned by Janes' people and now her only means of escape was to persuade this kinky lesbian to release her.
She was plunged into darkness as the woman's skirt fell over her face, but the heat and smell of the cunt inches away left her in no doubt about her situation. Tentatively, she stretched up and stuck out her tongue, feeling and tasting the wet flesh above her. She was rewarded by a loud moan, and then the hot pussy was pushed into her face, moving up and down, presenting first her vagina and then her clitoris for attention.
Amanda worked hard to satisfy Carla, using her tongue, lips, and teeth in an attempt to give her the same degree of pleasure she had just received. Never having done this before, she felt awkward and embarrassed, but continued to lick and suck the pussy above her with enthusiasm, hoping it pleased the woman enough to gain her release. She was rewarded with the sounds of pleasure from above and she worked even harder to bring the maid to the edge of orgasm, and then push her over. There was a sudden flood of juices flowing over her face and into her mouth. It tasted weird, but not entirely unpleasant.
"Thank you, Charlotte, that was lovely," Carla gasped as she fell to the side and lay on the bed, her chest still heaving. After a minute or two she stood up, put her knickers back on, and smoothed her skirt.
"So, could you untie me now, please?" Amanda asked, worried that the woman seemed to be ignoring her. Carla shot her a smile and leaned over her.
"Sorry, love, I really shouldn't interfere in the guests' little ... games," she replied.
"But you pr-mmmmphf!" Amanda's protests were cut short as the ball gag was forced back into her mouth. Carla jammed the vibrator back against Amanda's cunt and switched it on.
"I need to get on!" the maid said as she pushed her cart towards the door. Amanda screamed and struggled desperately, trying to get the woman to come back.
"Don't worry, I'm sure your boyfriend won't be long." With that, Carla opened the door and left the young bound woman alone, once again being driven to climax by the wand.
She could no longer see the clock, so had no idea how long she had been there when the door opened again. She was both surprised and pathetically happy when she saw Janes enter the room. It was sweet relief when he removed the vibrator, then finally released her from her bondage.
Amanda pushed the lank hair from her sweat-soaked face and wearily pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Somehow, she felt safe in the man's company, despite the fact that he was the one who had organised her recent torment. She also realised she was naked in front of him, and desperately hoped he liked what he saw. She suddenly wished the session could continue, but with the handsome man standing in front of her tying her up and...
"So, did we pass the test?" Janes asked as he handed her a towel.
"God, yes!" Amanda groaned, trying to massage the ache from her shoulders and arms. Her face grew suddenly serious and she looked up at Janes.
"But someone came into the room while your guys were gone!" she blurted out. "A maid - and she almost called the manager!" Amanda was shaking now at the thought of the woman picking up the phone, and wondered whether Carla was, even as they spoke, selling her story to the highest bidder.
"Carla?" Janes asked with a smile. "She's on my team, Charlotte, and Tom and David were standing just outside the door the entire time, looking like two security men."
He grinned as Amanda's mouth dropped open. How could I have missed that, she thought, but then realised she had been so over-excited, she would have believed almost anything. Something else registered - he had used her first name, albeit the false one. A softening of the formality?
"I told you this was a professional organisation, nothing left to chance. By the way, Carla asked me to tell you that you're very good at cunnilingus, she's looking forward to the next time." He opened the door and went to leave.
"Wait!" Amanda exclaimed, "My clothes! I don't have anything to wear!"
"You'll find a dress and underwear in the wardrobe. Contact me when you're ready, Miss Burton, and we can arrange your next session."
The door closed, and Amanda fell back onto the bed. God, what an evening it had been! As she replayed the events of the last few hours in her head, her hands went down to her crotch, and it wasn't long before she brought herself to another incredible climax.
Part 2 (added: 2012/04/18)
Janes looked over Amanda's feedback report from her taster session with great interest. He knew he got much more honest responses from his clients when they were answering questions posed dispassionately by a computer, where it all seemed so anonymous, rather than in a face-to-face conversation. This worked particularly well with someone like Amanda, who had enough difficulty admitting her true feelings to herself, let alone anyone else.
Obviously he knew about her paranoia about being discovered 'in flagrente'. What had surprised him was that the underlying subtext of her answers indicated that she also found this a huge turn-on. When Carla, posing as a maid, had first brought Amanda to orgasm, then made the client lick her out, Amanda had felt that she had been forced to do something she really wasn't comfortable with because it might prevent her public exposure. She was controlled, not only by her bondage and the other woman, but also by her fears. She indicated that it had heightened her responses and, from what Carla had told him, Janes believed it.
This was very interesting, and possibly something he could exploit. Certainly, her new request gave him virtual carte blanche to do with her as he pleased. He was slightly surprised that the woman would be so brave as to request the services she had, but she had certainly not rushed in requesting her next session. Most clients with Amanda's wealth were eager to repeat the experience right away. That this woman took her time was encouraging. Yes, he was very interested in Miss Amanda Beale, whose amateurish disguise he had seen through very quickly. Her choice of 'Charlotte Burton' as a pseudonym had, ironically, aided him in ascertaining her true identity.
Janes leaned back in his chair and thought about his new client. Something about her - her beauty, her vulnerability, her desire to debase herself - forced his thoughts to a place he did not want to go, to an earlier time, to another woman, one who had revelled in her slavery and torment at his hand. Amanda had... potential, even if she didn't realise it yet. He decided he needed to explore her limits, and started to plan her next session with some care.
Amanda noticed her hand was trembling as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips. She looked out of the window of the Starbucks coffee shop at the shoppers going about their business, unaware and uncaring of her concerns. She was worried to be in such a crowded place - okay, it wasn't London, but Bristol city centre on a Saturday morning was pretty busy, and there was always a risk that she would be recognised, despite the dark wig and the dark glasses. But she was far more worried about what might be about to happen to her.
She had changed her mind about Janes and the 'special services' he provided many times since her taster session. Initially, on a post-orgasmic high, she had thought her experiences that night were so good that she should repeat the whole thing immediately. In the cold light of the days after, she had realised just how mad this whole thing was - her public profile surely meant she had to maintain more control over her life, not give it up to some stranger. Amazing though it was, she had to resist this hedonistic urge, and renounce the pleasures of the flesh. And yet, and yet...
When she thought about her life, she realised just how empty it was. Her parents had both died a few years previously - natural causes, nothing sinister - and she had no siblings, no close family at all. Her marriage to Piers and sudden celebrity had left behind her old friends from school and university, and replaced them with nothing more than fair-weather friends, who deserted her as soon as Piers divorced her. She had never worked, except for some charity work, and the people there were nice, but they treated her like what she was - a rich girl playing at work. Now, she had no need to work - the divorce settlement saw to that - and no qualifications either, having dropped out of university to go skiing in Klosters and sunbathing in St Tropez.
With her isolation from the world, and following her debacle with the News of the Screws (as the News of the World paper was known before it closed), she had not had a date for a year, and not even met anyone who she would want to go out with. Not until Janes, that is.
He had never told her his first name, so she thought of him as Mr Janes, and she thought of him often. Her first impression had been of a still power, like he was a hunter, staying quiet and unmoving around a nervous faun. She had only met him twice, and on the second occasion she had been naked, while he was well-dressed on both occasions. But when she was with him, she felt safe from the world, he would fend off all attackers. It was ridiculous, she knew - he had already organised for her to suffer more pain and humiliation than she had encountered in her life. But he had also orchestrated the most intense pleasure she had ever felt. She was conflicted, to say the least.
Her nights became filled with images of him as the hunter, strong and silent, her as the prey, naked and vulnerable. Every fantasy now involved him, tying her, gagging her, whipping her, fucking her. They all ended with her bringing herself to a desperate climax - with a dildo, with the neck of a bottle, or just with her fingers.
Each night for the last three weeks, she had sat in front of that damn questionnaire program of his and looked at the options - types of sexual experience she wanted, types of punishment she wanted, scenarios she wanted to play out, the list seemed endless. Every time she viewed the dry list, with its little sliders for intensity (mild to extreme) and duration (one hour to weeks), the checkboxes for participants (single male to multiple mixed), her imagination went into overdrive and she found herself masturbating as she thought of Janes and her, doing all those things...
Each time, she bottled out and cancelled her selections before going to bed, sad, lonely, and frustrated. Finally, one night, she had got very, very drunk and, when she woke up in the morning slumped over the computer with the mother of all hangovers, she realised she had hit 'send'. She couldn't remember what she had selected, and she decided she didn't want to find out - Fate, or Mr Janes, would have his way with her.
"Hello, slut." Amanda jumped as the familiar voice startled her out of her daydream. She looked up into the leering face of Mr Angry, and the sudden rush of fear and excitement made her giddy. He pulled up a chair and sat uncomfortably close to her.
"Ready for Round Two?" he smirked, his voice low and menacing. "You got off lightly before, but I'm really gonna make you suffer this time, you dirty little slut!"
He reached up and grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her head towards him, easily overpowering her resistance. His lips clamped onto hers and his tongue forced its way into her mouth, while his other hand grabbed her breast and groped it crudely. Amanda was stunned by the abruptness of his actions and tried to break away, tried to stop him squeezing her breasts so hard, but she couldn't get him off her.
At last he let her go, and she tried to regain her composure. She could feel the eyes of the people around her glaring at them, and her face reddened in embarrassment.
"Here," he said, sliding an envelope to her, "your instructions. I'll catch you later, sugar-tits." With that, he got up and walked out of the coffee shop, leaving Amanda in a state of shock at the contempt with which she had just been treated. She opened the envelope, which had the word 'SLUT' on the front, and took out a slip of paper with a single hand-written sentence on it:
Go to the changing rooms in Debenhams, take off all your clothes and await further instructions.
Amanda felt sick. She was affronted at being ordered around in such a peremptory way - she was the client here, shouldn't they be a little more... but, then she thought about how this session had been requested and felt her body respond. Not remembering what she had actually selected was driving her insane with lust! She knew how she got when she sat at her computer and pictured Mr. Janes abusing her in ways that were described on the computer program. She knew how she would push each little toggle switch to maximum and think about the pain and humiliation she would be subjected to. What she didn't know was...at what setting were those little toggles when she had drunkenly hit the send button?! Surely they were not at maximum! Even drunk, she wouldn't do anything like that.
There was no doubt in her mind that she had asked to be dominated, and that meant being ordered around, but did it mean treating her like dirt? She thought back to how she had been manhandled and abused in that hotel room, and felt her pussy becoming warm...
The note had been written by Him, she recognised the handwriting. He was the one ordering her around. What did He have in store for her? God, she had to find out! She hurried out of the shop, feeling eyes looking at her as she went past, sure they could see into her soul, see her depraved yearnings, her pussy making a wet patch on her panties...
Debenhams is a prosaic, boring department store, and the women's wear department staid and dull. But not for Amanda that day. That day it was the most exciting place in the world, because He had ordered her to go there. She found an empty cubicle and went inside, pulling the curtain across - a flimsy barrier between her and the outside world. Her hands were shaking - could she really go through with this and get naked in this very public place? She was so scared by the idea, realising that this was the last chance she would have to back out. Who knew what she would be forced to do if she continued. But that was the point, wasn't it? To give up control to another? She told herself had no choice, because He had ordered it.
One by one, her clothes were added to the pile forming on the chair beside her. Coat, blouse, skirt, shoes, stockings, suspender belt, bra, panties. She was naked, hugging herself, covering her breasts and cunt. What happens now, she wondered, nervous and excited, what has He got planned for me?
Suddenly, the curtain was flung back and, standing there, looking her up and down with a broad smile, was Carla. Amanda was immediately relieved that it wasn't Mr Angry, and even more excited to see the woman who had licked her to orgasm and then made her return the favour. She was no longer dressed as a maid, but in a smart, elegant coat, buttoned up, and beneath it were stockings and four inch heels. She looked classy, and Amanda felt even more embarrassed and vulnerable at her own nakedness.
"Oh, yeah, I should've known it was you," Carla said with distain on the word 'you'. "At least you've done as you were told, you stupid bitch."
She pushed a large tote bag into Amanda's arms and spat, "Here's what you're to wear, and only this." She scooped the discarded clothes into an identical tote and then stood with her hand out. "Give me the handbag, wig and glasses, now."
"Please, Carla, don't make me..." Amanda begged. Carla slapped her hard across the face, shocking the naked woman.
"Just shut the fuck up and do it, cunt!" Carla replied with a scowl, holding her hand out for the remaining items. Reluctantly, Amanda took off her flimsy disguise, making her feel even more naked, and handed over her bag, which contained her cards, cash, keys and phone, watching as Carla packed them away.
Without another word, the curtain was closed and Amanda was alone again. She looked in the bag, and the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. She could see latex - black, shiny latex. She pulled out two small, thin items, a skirt and top, and saw that the only other clothes in the bag were shoes. She was scared - she'd never worn latex, and had only ever really seen it on porn sites. But she had no choice now, other than to stay naked, and she didn't think that would give her the low profile she craved.
She stepped into the skirt and pulled it up over her hips with considerable difficulty. It was very tight, and when she managed to pull up the zip at the back, it hugged her close, cutting into her waist to the point that there was a tiny roll of fat above the waistband. The hem of the skirt was high up on her thigh, only just covering her buttocks and pussy. She tried to smooth down the material and lower the hem, but it remained well above mid-thigh.
The top was just as difficult to wiggle in to. It was equally snug, squeezing her tightly across her upper body. The shoulder straps were maybe two inches wide, and plunged to a low neckline. She tugged at the material, but could not get it much lower than her ribcage, leaving a gap of about nine inches between the two garments, exposing her stomach and belly button. But her main concern was the way the rubber moulded itself perfectly to her small breasts, showing the bump of her erect nipples to anyone who cared to look - and she suspected plenty would care to look.
Her breathing was already shallow as she pulled the shoes out of the bag, and saw how they perfectly matched the rest of her outfit. They were shiny and black, with two inch platforms and six inch stiletto heels - real 'fuck-me' heels, she thought as she slipped them on and fastened the buckles around her ankles. As she straightened up and balanced awkwardly, she saw herself in the mirror and blushed. God, she looked sexy! She wished He could see her like this, how could He resist her if he did?
At the bottom of the bag, she found a wig, appropriately black and shiny, and she pulled it on, covering her natural blonde hair. As she straightened it in the mirror, letting it cascade over her shoulders, she realised that the straight fringe across her forehead made her look like Betty Paige, the infamous bondage model. Amanda suddenly felt another rush of arousal at her new image. She found a lipstick in the bag - she never wore lipstick, just lip gloss - and applied it with shaking hands. It was blood red, and as she now looked at herself in the mirror, she saw a sex bomb staring back at her. She could feel the warm glow between her legs and watched her chest rising and falling under the tight, shiny rubber. She was finding it hard to stop her hand straying under the hem of the skirt...
There was another envelope at the bottom of the bag, with the word 'CUNT' written across it. That was what Carla had called her, Amanda remembered. She knew they were deliberately trying to demean her with the way they referred to her, as well as how they treated her, and it was working - the insults were making her feel guilty about her desires, she really was a slut. She opened the envelope and read the instruction.
Go into the Ann Summers shop on the first floor of the shopping centre and follow the instructions you will find there.
The moment had arrived which Amanda had been dreading. The idea of going into the nearest thing to a high street sex shop that the UK allowed was pretty scary, but she had to get there first. As she walked through the department store, struggling to stay upright on the unfamiliar heels, she could imagine the eyes of shoppers and staff on her, wondering what someone dressed like that was doing in a place like this. Once she got out into the street, she didn't have to imagine, she could see people turning and staring.
A group of lads were pointing and sniggering, there were a couple of wolf whistles, and one of them called out 'Hello, darling! Come over here if you want some!' An older couple were walking towards her, and Amanda could see the man's eyes glued to her body, while the woman was scowling at her.
"Stop staring, Henry!" she said sharply, "she's just a common tart!" Amanda blushed as she heard this said loud enough not only for her to hear, but most of the people around her. She realised that the cool air was making her nipples stand out even more prominently - it had to be that, surely, she couldn't be getting aroused by such public humiliation, could she?
She was relieved when she reached the covered shopping precinct - the crowds were heavier and the possibility of her being isolated and approached by someone was much lower. The blast of warm air hit her as she entered, and she felt the prickle of perspiration under the wig and under the latex, making her skin uncomfortably itchy. She hurried, as best she could, towards the lift, trying to ignore the stares directed at her.
She had chosen the lift over the escalator to get up to the first floor because she could imagine what a view shoppers would get up her skirt as she ascended. However, she hadn't quite thought it through. As she waited for the lift car to arrive, she was surrounded by other shoppers, predominantly men, who had suddenly decided they also wanted to take a ride up. When the doors eventually opened and everyone boarded, Amanda found herself being forced to the back of the car, which she now realised was glass, as this was a 'scenic' lift. The group of young men who had 'admired' her earlier had followed her into the shopping centre and were now standing outside, leering at her through the glass, making rude hand gestures. She turned away and faced into the lift, but now she was being stared at by those riding with her, who were pressing up against her as close as they could. She felt the glass against her back and bodies pressing against her front as more people forced their way into the small car.
At last the doors closed and the lift started to ascend. Now Amanda realised her mistake, as a cheer arose from the youths looking up at her from below and getting the perfect view up her skirt. The lift was infuriatingly slow, and she was flushed an even deeper red by the time it finally arrived and the doors opened. No-one seemed in a rush to exit the small car and, in danger of having to ride back down, Amanda had to push her way through the crush, feeling bodies pressing against hers.
Flushed and flustered, but relieved to be back in the open, she made her way towards her destination. But when she saw the shop, she was dismayed to find that it had closed down. There was a sign in the window saying that it would be re-opening in larger premises elsewhere in the precinct in a couple of weeks, but the window was covered by a white dust sheet and the plate-glass doors were blacked out with posters.
She stood looking at the doors dumbly, wondering what she was meant to do. Had Janes made a mistake? She looked around in confusion, hoping someone was around to give her advice - or more likely an order - but couldn't see Carla or Mr Angry anywhere. With no other ideas forthcoming, she went up to the door and pushed against it. She was surprised when the door moved, clearly not locked. She looked around nervously, then pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it quickly behind her. She waited there for maybe half a minute, half-expecting someone to follow and challenge her. She examined the door to see if she could lock it, but the only way to do that was with a key. Finally, she looked around the shop.
The place had been gutted, and it was largely empty, except for rubbish strewn on the floor. There was only one item of interest in the shop, a wooden carpenter's trestle. This would hardly have been of much interest either, except that Amanda could see another tote bag alongside it and, sitting on the top, another envelope. With a rising feeling of trepidation and anticipation, she walked over to the trestle and picked up the envelope.
The word on the front this time was 'WHORE'. Trying to ignore the insult, she ripped the envelope open with a shaking hand, and read the new instructions.
Take off the skirt and top. Put on the gag. Use the cuffs to lock yourself across the trestle, facing the window. Do it quickly.
She picked up the bag and took out the gag and four sets of steel handcuffs. She tried to come to terms with the fact that, having been made to strip, dress in provocative clothes and parade herself around town, she was now being ordered to put herself into bondage. She wasn't sure she could do that - it was one thing to be forced into bondage, as she had been before, she expected that, even hoped for it, but to do it to herself? It felt as though she had control of what was happening, and that felt somewhat disappointing. But then the orders were coming from Janes, and for some reason she didn't fully understand, she felt compelled to obey Him. Before she could overthink it any more, she pulled the latex top over her head and squirmed out of the skirt.
The gag was a simple ring with a chin strap, and she put it in her mouth and strapped it on without any fuss - although it was the first time she'd worn a ring gag, it seemed like a perfectly natural thing to do which, when she thought about it, surprised her a little. She picked up the cuffs and considered what to do. It was clear that she was meant to put one set of cuffs around each wrist and ankle, then lie face down on the trestle and cuff herself to its legs, so that is what she did.
Amanda stood at one end, spread her feet, and passed the open bracelet of the cuffs on her left ankle through a metal ring she saw at the bottom of the left leg of the trestle, before ratcheting it closed, and then repeated the process with the cuffs around her right ankle.
She glanced nervously towards the door and then bent over the trestle, lying with the top of it pressed against her body from her venus mound to her neck, with her breasts either side of the narrow wooden platform. Attaching the cuffs on her wrists to the rings at the bottom of the legs was pretty difficult, as she had to stretch to reach them and hook the bracelets through, but she finally managed to get them closed. She had done as she had been told and was locked in place.
As she looked up, the enormity of what she had done hit her. She was in front of the plate glass window, covered by a sheet. But, whereas from the outside she had seen nothing in the dark shop, from her position now, with the bright lights outside, she could quite clearly see the outline of people walking by outside, just a few feet away. And, she remembered, the door was unlocked - any of those shoppers could, if the fancy took them, walk in and see her stretched out, open and available to be fucked in any of her orifices. The thought was incredibly arousing but, held as she was, there was nothing she could do about it. For the first time, her lust overcame her paranoia, and she longed for someone, anyone, to come in and take her.
She didn't have too long to wait, although the ten minutes seemed to last forever. At last, the door opened, and she saw that it was Mr Angry. Her lustful yearnings turned to fear - she remembered his earlier threat to make her suffer, and knew he would carry it out. She didn't want to be hurt right now, she wanted to cum! But, she knew only too well, she had no control...
"Well, what a fucking whore you are!" Mr Angry said, with undisguised contempt, as he locked the door and strolled over to where Amanda was straddling the wooden trestle.
"What's really funny is, you're such a worthless whore, you have to pay me to fuck you!"
He dropped the holdall he was carrying and unzipped it. He took out a butt plug, made of clear plastic, and held it up to Amanda's face.
"First thing we need to do is get that tight little arse of yours stretched out so it can take my dick," he said, making it clear he was going to enjoy this. Amanda stared at the plug in fear, having no experience of such devices, and never having had anything at all put into her anus. It was much thicker than she thought feasible to go into her and, unlike pictures she'd seen on the Internet, it had no slender neck around which her sphincter could contract - once open, it was going to stay open. She didn't bother shaking her head, though, she knew it would be pointless, she just moaned in fearful anticipation.
"Hmm, I guess this could be a little painful, and we don't want you attracting too much attention." Amanda watched him take a soft rubber dildo from the bag and push it into her mouth through the ring gag. His hand began to squeeze a rubber ball attached to the dildo and Amanda felt the dildo begin to expand inside her mouth. She tried to push against it with her tongue, to push it out of her mouth, but her tongue was soon trapped beneath it, reducing her moans to muffled whimpers.
Mr. Angry stood in front of Amanda so that she could see him coat the butt plug with lubricant. He was watching her face intently as he worked, enjoying the look of panic in her eyes. When he began to press the plug against her anus, Amanda struggled in pain as it slowly slid into her to its full extent, stretching her anus further than she ever thought possible. She cried out as she was opened up, her moans becoming cries and eventually screams as she felt like she was being torn apart. The cuffs rattled against the trestle as she frantically pulled at them in a vain attempt to get free and stop the torture, but it was no use, the monster was going in whether she liked it or not. Tears were now rolling down her cheeks, but there was no sign of mercy or even empathy for her plight - if anything her tormentor seemed to be revelling in her torment.
He worked it in and out, building up a slow rhythm, enjoying the pained grunts and cries which accompanied her repeated penetration. Amanda screwed up her face at the pain inflicted on her, but she endured it, knowing it was only going to get worse. Slowly, she realised that, somehow, the pounding of her anal passage was transmitting through and creating a sexual response in her - to her utter shock and dismay, she found herself aroused by it. Maybe her heightened arousal due to the bondage and her reaction to the whole situation helped, but against all expectations, she found herself wanting him to pump it harder, faster, deeper. It was still incredibly painful, but now her aroused state was so high that she was becoming frustrated by the slow movement which was stimulating her, but not enough.
"Okay, now you're all warmed up, time for the real thing!" Amanda found that 'the real thing' was longer, thicker, harder, and rammed into her with a lot more force. The trestle started to rock, and the legs scraped on the floor as he slammed into her. She cried out, not only at the internal pain, but also because the edge of the trestle top was being driven hard against her venus mound, making the wood dig into her and scrape her skin raw.
Although she was still in a lot of pain, Amanda found herself becoming more and more aroused by the anal assault, which made her somehow ignore the pain. Suddenly, she was reaching a wholly unexpected climax, making her cry out with pain and pleasure at the same time, a very strange, and not wholly pleasant, experience.
Having forced her to orgasm, her tormentor now pulled out of her rectum and strolled around to her head. Amanda, already dazed from the pain and excitement of her anal violation, could do nothing to prevent him deflating and removing the dildo, then pushing his still-hard cock through the ring into her mouth. She retched at the smell and taste of her own shit, and choked as he forced himself to the back of her throat, but he was paying her no attention. This was not a blowjob, this was a face-fucking, and she had no choice but to take it until, finally, he shot his load into her throat, into her mouth, and into her face, leaving her coughing and spluttering, while sucking in much-needed air. When he pulled out, her head dropped, and the cum she had not swallowed slid out of her mouth, forming into a thick strand down to the floor beneath her.
Amanda felt him behind her again, and this time he entered her wetly receptive cunt, bringing a long, high-pitched whine of pleasure from her lips. She was amazed by his stamina, as he thrust into her, bringing her to orgasm once more. She felt the butt plug forced into her again, although it went in much easier now, and he worked it back and forward as he brought her to a second climax with his cock. At last he pulled out, and she felt his hot cum spraying over her thighs, between her buttocks, and across her lower back.
"Oh, hi, Carla, come to play with our little fuck toy?" she heard him say as the door was unlocked and opened. She wearily lifted her head and saw the stunningly beautiful woman come into the shop. She walked over to Amanda, pulled off the wig, grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, causing the gagged woman to grunt in discomfort.
"I've had a fucking awful day, Tom, and I'm going to use this little cunt for a bit of stress relief," she spat, "whether she'd call that 'play', I don't know, and frankly, I don't give a fuck either, she can just take it."
"I thought you were supposed to be the 'good cop' here?" the man asked with a smile.
"I know that's what Janes said," Carla replied as she took off her coat, to reveal that she was wearing a black leather corset, which cinched her waist and gave her a wonderful hourglass figure, "but I'm afraid our little cum slut is going to get bad cop, really bad cop today. Let's get her off that frame and make her a little less comfortable."
The two of them worked together to free Amanda from the handcuffs and place her in new bondage, while Amanda wondered at Carla's suddenly very hostile attitude - she had looked to her to provide a contrast to the aggressive approach of Tom, who she had previously thought of as Mr Angry. She had hoped they might repeat their mutual pleasuring. But now, she was scared of what Carla might do to her.
Tom got some additional equipment from the bag as Carla unlocked the cuffs. He had a metal pole with cuffs at either end, which he extended to its maximum length and then cuffed Amanda's wrists to it, so that her arms were held outstretched on either side of her. A leather collar attached to the middle of the pole strapped around her neck, making the pole into a yoke. He then made her sit on her heels, and tightened a leather strap around the top of each thigh and the ankle below it, so that she was held in a frog tie. He unfastened the ring gag, and Amanda worked the ache out of her stretched jaw.
When she looked up, a flash of fear ran through her as she saw Carla pick up a flogger and pass a cane to Tom.
"Please, Carla," she sobbed, "I'm in so much pain already, please don't hurt me!"
Carla strutted over and stood in front of Amanda, who was on her knees, arms strung out on either side of her, her eyes beseeching.
"I'll give you a chance to please me," Carla said with an evil smile, "if you do it well, I may show you mercy." Amanda nodded her head gratefully, willing to do anything to avoid that flogger.
"Well, get over here, you useless whore!" Carla barked, flicking the leather fronds threateningly against the floor. Amanda urgently shuffled forward on her knees until she was pressed up against the stocking-clad legs. Craning her neck forward with difficulty, she poked her tongue against the other woman's shaven mound and parted her labia, seeking out her clitoris. Once she had located her target, she set about licking and sucking it, nibbling and flicking, desperate to please. She felt Carla's hand stroking her hair, and she stretched a little further to allow her tongue to lap at the woman's vagina, which was already wet in anticipation.
"Why don't you give her a little encouragement, Tom?" she heard Carla say, and a few seconds later she jumped and squealed as she felt the cane delivering short, sharp blows against her breasts, first on the sides and then, more painfully, across her nipples. She redoubled her efforts, hoping to end the nagging torture by making Carla cum. The persistent tapping transferred to her buttocks, then her stomach, and then to the tops of her thighs. Amanda squirmed under the attentions of the cane, crying out as the occasional blow was struck more firmly, stinging her flesh. The lower half of her face was covered by Carla's juices by now, and when she felt the fingers curling into her hair and pulling her in even closer, she knew her efforts were finally producing the desired effect.
"Harder!" Carla cried out, and both Tom and Amanda assumed the command was directed at them. Amanda dug her tongue in deeper and faster, while trying to cope with the increasing pain as Tom flicked the cane against her breasts once more. At last Carla reached her climax, letting out a strangulated cry and pushing Amanda away with such force that she toppled over onto her back. She lay there like a turtle, trapped and unable to get up or turn over, prevented from doing so by the yoke on her neck and wrists.
"Well, that was pretty good!" Carla said, as she recovered her composure. "Unfortunately, I'm still in a bad mood, so I'm still going to give you a damn good flogging." Amanda looked at her in dismay.
"But, Carla, you promised! You said -"
"Oh, gag her, please, Tom!" Carla cried out in exasperation. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a whining, snivelling worthless little whore like her!" Tom grabbed Amanda by the chin as she tried to turn away, forcing her jaws apart and pushing the dildo between her lips. He pumped it until her cheeks were bulging and she couldn't spit it out.
"What a pretty sight!" Carla said as she looked down on Amanda's prone body, her legs doubled up and held by the straps, her thighs wide apart. With a flick of the flogger, she brought the leather thongs whistling down across the woman's lower stomach, venus mound, and glistening vaginal opening. Amanda screamed into the gag, barely able to comprehend the level of pain delivered by the vicious blow. She clamped her thighs together and turned her legs to the side, which meant that the second strike hit her at the top of her thigh and on her buttock. Tears were streaming down her face as the strands slapped down across her already marked breasts and then on her stomach. Carla stood over her and, with a hand on her right knee and a foot on the left, prised her legs apart so she could whip her pussy again, raising a desperate scream from the distraught woman. She grabbed the cane out of Tom's hand and used it to deliver perfectly targeted blows down on Amanda's swollen lips and wet cunt, easily resisting her frantic attempts to break free and protect herself.
Finally, Carla stood back, breathing heavily from her exertions, but also from the thrill she got from beating the helpless Amanda, who was lying still, almost out of her mind at the agony coursing through her entire body, but centred between her legs.
"Get her up on her feet," Carla ordered. Tom released the straps on Amanda's legs and dragged her upright, having to hold her there as she swayed groggily from side to side. She could see that Carla was digging in the bag, and she felt a thrill of fear run through her as she wondered what new means of torture the cruel woman would come up with next.
To her abject horror, it was a strap-on dildo, and one that looked even bigger than the cock she had taken in all her orifices earlier. It was double ended and, as she strapped it to herself, Carla slid one end of the dildo deep into her cunt, moaning a little as it went in. She looked at Amanda's tear-stained face, the look of wide-eyed terror, and smiled.
"What's up, cunt?" she asked with an evil grin. "Too much for you? Do you want out?" Amanda desperately nodded her head and made muffled begging noises.
"Well, you should have thought about that before you filled in your request, shouldn't you, you stupid bitch! I can do whatever I like and you've got no comeback, because you already agreed to it! Now bend over!"
Amanda backed away from the woman, still shaking her head and pleading with her, fresh tears on her face, until her back hit the wall. Carla forced her to turn around and pressed her face against what she suddenly realised was not a wall, but the plate glass window, covered by the thin sheet, and she was staring at the shapes of shoppers only a few feet away, oblivious to her plight. She suddenly wished she was out there, where it was safe - at least from the kind of assault she was suffering in here. Carla spread Amanda's buttocks and forced the huge dildo into her sore rectum, stretching her sphincter even wider than before, reducing the woman to tears yet again. She thrust up, drawing another muffled scream, until Amanda's feet were hardly touching the ground, then turned so that she had her own back against the glass.
"Why don't you join me in this little slut, Tom?" Carla called over.
"Don't mind if I do!" Tom replied, with a nasty smile, as he sauntered over and stood in front of the two women. He guided his rampant erection into Amanda's aching cunt and sank it up to the hilt, lifting her briefly off the dildo in her rectum. They now took turns to thrust in while the other withdrew a little, so that Amanda was being fucked on both strokes, alternately front and back.
Amanda was in constant agony, but too exhausted to do anything more than moan as she was bounced up and down on the erect phalluses like a rag doll. She was bathed in sweat and almost delirious, hardly able to take in what was happening to her. She was sure she couldn't cum again, she was too sore, too tired, and in too much pain. But she was wrong. The actions in both cunt and arse drove her to another bittersweet orgasm of pain and pleasure, before they let her down and withdrew. Hers legs collapsed under her and she fell to the floor in a heap, barely conscious.
"What do we do with her now?" Tom asked as he re-adjusted his clothes. Carla looked down at Amanda with undisguised contempt.
"Oh, just leave her, Janes will come for her eventually. Come on, I need a drink."
Amanda managed to look up and saw them heading out of the door, leaving her sprawled out on the dirty floor, still naked, yoked, and gagged. She heard the key turn in the lock before unconsciousness finally overtook her.
When she woke up, she realised the bondage had been removed and, although she was still naked and on the floor, her head was resting on something soft. She looked up and saw Janes looking down at her, and she realised her pillow was his thigh. He held a bottle of water and allowed her to take a long pull on it.
"You okay? You look pretty exhausted." The concern in his voice was obvious.
"I'm a bit stiff and I ache a bit," Amanda lied - she hurt like hell - "that was a little more intense than I expected."
"I'm sorry, maybe I should have double-checked, only your request specifically said you wanted this to be very rough."
"That's okay," Amanda said, not wanting him to know she couldn't remember what she'd asked for, "I'm just a wimp, that's all."
"I wouldn't say that, after what you just put yourself through! You're pretty tough."
"Thanks," Amanda smiled, appreciating the compliment.
"The thing is, did you enjoy it?" Janes asked.
Amanda thought back to all the pain she had suffered, and all the humiliation, and then she thought of all the orgasms she'd had. With a shock she realised she was still horny! She glanced surreptitiously at Janes' groin, and wondered what lay beneath the well-tailored trousers. Her cheeks reddened at the thought, and she suddenly felt embarrassed by her nakedness. It seemed like she spent a lot of time naked in his company - did he plan it that way? She had a sudden vision of herself chained, kneeling at his feet like a slave girl, and liked what she saw.
She shook her head to try and clear it of such thoughts.
"Let's put it this way," she said, smiling up at him, "I will be retaining your services again in the near future, Mr Janes." He smiled back.
"I'm glad to hear it, Miss Burton. Now, shall we get you cleaned up and dressed?"
Part 3 (added: 2012/05/01)
The week since her experience in the shopping centre had been a curious one for Amanda. She had spent most of her time during the day asking herself how she could be so stupid and take these risks. But then every night she ended up bringing herself to orgasm thinking about what had happened and how she had felt at the time. What surprised her, even shocked her, was that she seemed to be turned on by the more unpleasant events of the day - when she had been forced to walk through the shopping centre dressed only in thin, tight latex, when she had been struggling for breath as she gagged on Tom's enormous cock, and particularly when Carla had whipped her between her spread thighs - rather than those times when she had actually reached orgasm. She could remember the feel of every leather strand as it slashed against her sensitive skin, the pain that it caused, and the surge of arousal within her even as she screamed in agony. Just recalling those memories could virtually bring her to a climax, and it took only the lightest of touches with her fingers to make herself cum.
She remembered once hearing the phrase 'pain slut' and she wondered if that was what she was. Despite her misgivings and fears, she knew how she was going to set the parameters for her next session - she would allow Janes almost completely free rein, as long as it involved plenty of sex, pain, and humiliation. This time, it would last a whole weekend, not just a day.
Two days later, she had just finished in the shower when she heard a knock on the door and, throwing on her robe, she went to answer it. The courier handed her a package, and nervously, she ripped it open. Inside, she found a white dress, a pair of espadrilles and a blank envelope. She opened it and read her latest set of instructions:
Wear the dress, shoes and nothing else. Take your passport, credit card and nothing else. Be at Exeter Airport by 14:00, ask for messages at the information desk.
Amanda immediately took off the robe and stood naked in front of the mirror. Her hand strayed to the newly shaven area of her Venus mound and felt the smooth skin - she had seen Carla like that and had found it a huge turn-on. On the beautiful porn star, it had seemed like an empowering statement of her independence and strength; on herself, it seemed to say 'submissive', possibly even 'slave'. Her heart raced at the thought.
The dress was thin cotton, with a halter top and a hemline which barely came down over her buttocks. She clearly couldn't wear a bra, but without any panties there was a good chance that even the tiniest gust of wind would expose her nakedness beneath. By the time she put it on, her nipples were already erect, clearly showing through the top, and she was moist down below with excitement. She slipped on the flat-soled shoes and went to find her passport. The thought of flying off to some unknown destination was frightening, but that was what Amanda wanted - to be completely in somebody else's control. She called a taxi and set off for the airport.
"Here is your message, Miss Burton," the assistant at the information desk said as she handed Amanda yet another envelope. She was glad to see that this one didn't have any derogatory terms on the outside, and ripped it open. The message inside was very simple:
Buy a ticket on the 16:55 flight to Berlin.
Amanda once again felt a surge of adrenalin. She had never been to Germany and knew only a couple of words of the language - it seemed that Janes had thought of yet another way to make her feel exposed and vulnerable. She did as instructed, and headed for the departure gate. She had no problem going through security, as it was pretty obvious that she wasn't hiding anything!
The flight was uneventful, apart from the stares she got from passengers and crew, male and female alike, clearly surprised and / or offended by her dress. Amanda had to visit the bathroom on the plane several times to dab away the moisture from her shaven pussy, and was very careful to ensure that she didn't sit down on the back of the skirt, for fear of leaving a wet patch on the material. Through a combination of her arousal, the slightly chilly spring air, and the air conditioning, her nipples were constantly hard, which attracted even more attention, but there was nothing she could do about that.
"Welcome to Germany, Charlotte." Janes' voice startled her, and she looked around in surprise to see him standing behind her as she walked into the main terminal building.
"I trust you had a pleasant flight?" Amanda was too nervous to reply, and confined herself to a flickering smile. She saw that he was, once again, smartly turned out in an expensive suit and, as usual, she felt underdressed alongside him, although for once she had to admit she was at least dressed. He held out a brown envelope to her.
"Put your passport, ticket and credit card in there and seal it, they will be returned to you at the end of the weekend." She did as he ordered, and watched as he put the envelope into his inside pocket. All she now possessed were the clothes she was wearing, and those were not even her own. Once again, he immediately had her off balance.
He set off across the terminal towards the car hire desks and, with no other options, she followed him, having to almost jog to keep up with his long stride. They went outside into the gathering gloom and headed to the car park, where he loaded his suitcase into the boot of the car.
"Take off the dress and the shoes, and put them in there," he ordered, pointing to the boot.
"What?!" Amanda exclaimed in surprise, quickly glancing around to see if anybody was watching, but realising the area was deserted.
"I think that was a perfectly clear instruction, Miss Burton," he said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. When she continued to hesitate, he added "You are alone, in a foreign country, with no ticket, no money, and no passport. I suggest you do as I say."
Amanda, startled by this development but seemingly with no other options, untied the halter neck and unzipped the side of the dress, before stepping out of it. She threw it into the car boot, along with her shoes, and stood naked before him, covering her nipples with one arm and her bare mound with the other.
"I like what you've done there," Janes remarked, pointing towards Amanda's shaven crotch. She reddened in embarrassment and turned away, inadvertently giving him a view of her bare bottom. He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out something she didn't immediately recognise, passing it to her. As she turned it over in her hand, she realised it was a mask such as you might wear to a masked ball - black, stiff material covered in silver glitter, with a sturdy elasticated strap.
"What's this for?" she asked in confusion.
"Charlotte, we're out in the real world, and you're naked," Janes explained patiently, "I can't stop people seeing you. I can't stop them photographing you. This is your cover. Everything you have told me makes me believe you value your anonymity - the mask preserves that, while simultaneously exposing you completely." Amanda was horrified.
"You can't be serious!" she protested, staring at him in disbelief.
"It's well within the parameters of the brief you gave me," Janes countered calmly, "Charlotte, I think you need to decide if you're serious - I'm afraid this weekend isn't going to work if you keep questioning me. You might as well get the next flight back."
Amanda understood the veiled threat well enough, but she was torn between her fear at being so completely vulnerable, and her desire for sexual adventure. She realised it was all tied up with the man standing in front of her - did she trust him enough to put her entire future in his hands? As so often when she thought about Janes, she felt herself to be utterly confused and ambivalent, unable to think clearly. As she had done before, she just had to go with her gut. She pulled the mask over her head, concealing a large part of her upper face, and looked at the man into whose hands she had placed herself.
Janes didn't look smug or triumphant, but gave her an encouraging smile. He reached into his jacket pocket again, and this time brought out a pair of handcuffs, which he held out to her.
"Put these on, please," he ordered.
Despite her so-recent capitulation, Amanda still looked pleadingly at him, silently beseeching him to take care of her. He said nothing further, just proffered the cuffs again. Reluctantly, the naked woman took the steel bracelets and closed one around her right wrist.
"Behind your back."
Amanda looked at the implacable face before her, and slowly put her hands behind her. There was the sound of a ratchet closing.
Janes shut the boot lid, and led her round the passenger seat, opening the door and helping her in before leaning in to fasten her seatbelt between her breasts and across her hip. He could hear her rasping breath as he did so, recognising it as a sign of her arousal at his proximity, as well as her own nakedness and helplessness.
The journey into the centre of the city took about half an hour, during which Janes outlined his plans.
"This weekend is the German Fetish Fair, the largest event of its kind in Europe, and I have arranged for you to take part in some of the events and exhibitions. We will be staying in the hotel adjacent to the convention centre, so many of the guests will be attending the fair. Your current dress, while a little extreme, will not be out of place - you're unlikely to get arrested in this particular city on this particular weekend."
If this was meant to reassure Amanda, it didn't work. The idea of being naked and handcuffed while surrounded by a bunch of fetishists was not one she would have considered just an hour ago. Now she was worrying about exactly what her 'part' in the Fair was going to comprise.
"Your previous sessions have been very safe, very controlled," Janes continued. It wasn't how Amanda would have described them, she had felt far from safe. "But this weekend will be a little different. None of the people you will meet here have been paid by me, or pre-warned about you in any way, other than being told that I would be bringing a new initiate to the bondage scene with me, someone keen to experience what it has to offer. I hope you will find it ... stimulating."
Amanda didn't know how to handle this news, but as they left the autobahn and approached the city centre, she found she had more immediate concerns.
As they drove down the busy city streets, Amanda tried to slide down in the seat so that she couldn't be seen from outside, but she knew it was pretty hopeless. When the car stopped at a pedestrian crossing, passers-by pointed and laughed at her. Several young men came up to the side of the car and bent down, peering through the glass at her naked body, making lewd gestures with their hands. It seemed like an eternity before the car moved on, taking her away from the excruciatingly embarrassing situation.
Eventually, they pulled in to an underground car park beneath a high-rise hotel. Janes parked and helped her to get out. She stood on the cold concrete, looking around in the cool evening air, wondering what was going to happen next. Janes took out the suitcase, locked the car and started walking towards the lift lobby.
"Wait here while I go and check in," he ordered, before disappearing through the door leading to the lobby. Amanda was stunned - she was naked, cuffed, cold, and very frightened to be left all alone in the garage, with nowhere to hide other than behind the car if anyone should happen to come along. As if on cue, a car drove up the ramp into the car park, its headlights flickering over Amanda's naked body. Awkwardly, she got down on the ground and crawled under the car as the vehicle pulled into a free space only yards from her. She heard the doors open and slam shut, then heels clicking on the concrete, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. She let out the breath she had been holding, and squirmed back out from under the car and into the harsh strip lights, her heart pounding in her chest. She got to her feet but stayed in a crouch, while she kept an eye on the door, praying for Janes' return.
A few minutes later, the door opened, but to her dismay, a noisy group of Japanese tourists appeared, laughing and talking as they headed in her direction. Luckily she was able to get behind the car and keep out of sight until they had gone.
It was another quarter of an hour, and Amanda was shivering quite violently, before Janes finally reappeared. He beckoned in her direction, and she ran across the garage to him, conscious of the way her small breasts swung and bounced, but more worried about getting inside.
"We're in Room 1570. You will take the stairs," he said.
"Like this?!" she exclaimed. A nod. It was fifteen floors! Apart from thinking this would take her an age, her immediate thought was, what would happen if she encountered someone on the way up. As she contemplated that nightmare, Janes dipped into his pocket, and Amanda was shocked when he pulled out a whiffle-ball gag and approached her.
"Please don't gag me as well!" she begged, backing away until she was pressed up against the door. He ignored her protests and struggles as he forced the stiff plastic ball between her teeth, stretching her jaws wide. A leather strap around her head and one under her chin held it firmly in place, and ensured that only a rather desperate moan and a drool of saliva came out of her mouth. As his hand went back to his pocket, Amanda wondered what the hell else he had in there. Pinned as she was, she could do nothing to resist as he pulled out a clamp and closed it on her still-erect nipple. She let out a wordless howl as the rubber-coated metal squeezed her tender flesh, quickly accompanied by the same biting pain from her other breast as that nipple was clamped in similar fashion.
"I'll see you upstairs," Janes said with a smile, before he walked into the lift and pressed the button. Their eyes met as the doors closed - she saw his amusement, he saw her fear, pain, and raw lust.
Amanda was in a state of panic that no longer had anything to do with the possibility of her being recognised, and everything to do with the possibility of her being caught stark naked, cuffed and gagged in the hotel! How could he do this to her? It was pure chance whether she met someone, he couldn't control that, surely. She thought back to her misgivings about walking in the street in latex, and realised this was so much worse. She felt physically sick at the thought of encountering someone on the stairs.
She set off up the bare concrete stairs cautiously, but immediately stopped and looked down. There was a chain between the nipple clamps and, strung along the chain, hung five little cat bells, tinkling sweetly with her every movement! That utter bastard, she thought. Any hope of proceeding stealthily and silently gone, and straining to hear any sound of footsteps or voices, above or below her, she ascended the stairs, feeling very naked and utterly exposed.
When she got to the ground floor, the stairs were carpeted. This made hearing other's footsteps virtually impossible and, as she couldn't move silently, Amanda decided her best strategy was to go up as quickly as she could, and she took two stairs at a time as she rushed onwards.
She made it to the third floor before she ran into trouble. As she came around a corner, she looked up and saw a man walking down the stairs towards her. They both stopped, staring at each other, the man's leg almost comically frozen as it hovered in mid-air. He was tall - over six feet - and rather rotund, his face a little flushed just from the effort of walking. His mouth hung open as his eyes roamed over the vision before him. Amanda's brain had frozen with fear, like a rabbit in the headlights, and she couldn't think what to do, let alone make her body do it. Was this one of Janes' setups? The fat German seemed an odd choice if it was, she certainly didn't want an 'encounter' with him - the thought of him even touching her, let alone fucking her, like she had been in the shopping centre, appalled her. No, this wasn't a setup, she was in 'the real world', and it didn't look pretty. The moment stretched out.
"Fraulein?" the man finally blurted out. It seemed to break the spell, and Amanda, instantly deciding that the only way was up, rushed towards him, trying to get past before he snapped out of it. But, moving surprisingly quickly for such a big man, he cut her off, grabbing her arm and then crushing her against the wall with his body. The naked woman was completely overshadowed and, struggle as she might, could not break free.
"Please! Let me go!" is what she tried to say, but the gag turned it into an unintelligible wail. She struggled as she caught a strong whiff of body odour masked by aftershave, and felt his hand grab her breast and squeeze it roughly. His knee pressed between her thighs and forced them apart, allowing his other hand to grope her crotch, spreading open her pussy lips and exploring inside.
"Wie ist dein name, hübsche, kleine Hure?" he whispered, his face close to hers, a strong smell of garlic and beer washing over her. She had no idea what he was saying, and she felt repulsed by the man, but she also felt her body responding to what he was doing with his fingers and, despite trying to stop herself, she let out a moan. Don't let this happen, she urged herself, you must get away! He leaned down, and his wet lips closed over her mouth and the ballgag, while at the same time his fingers dug deeper into the folds of her already wet cunt, thrusting into her.
With a big effort, both physical and mental, she brought her knee up sufficiently hard into his groin that he let out a grunt and loosened his hold on her. Taking her chance, Amanda pushed him away and ran up the stairs three at a time, not looking back or worrying if there might be someone else ahead, just trying to get as far away from the horrible man as she could.
She was at the ninth floor before she finally fell to her knees, sucking air noisily through the whiffle ball, her throat burning and chest heaving, calf muscles and hamstrings begging for mercy. As she thought about what had just happened, she felt disgusted by her reaction - how could she be turned on by being groped and fingered by a man that grotesquely fat? But there was no denying that she had, and she wondered what the hell was wrong with her - had she always been this depraved or was she getting worse, was she addicted to humiliation?
She wanted to lie down and rest, but she forced herself to her feet and staggered on up to the fifteenth floor. Meanwhile, in the lobby, Friedrich Meinz couldn't believe his luck - he had always resented his doctor's orders not to take the lift, but now he decided using the stairs was pretty cool. He assumed the gorgeous, naked blonde was something to do with the Fair he was attending, but wow, what a start to his weekend! He wondered if he would see her again, and if he would recognise her with her clothes on, assuming she was wearing clothes next time...
Amanda cautiously looked through the window in the door into the corridor. Seeing it empty, she opened the door and ran along the carpeted hallway, ignoring the jingling of the tiny bells and the way the nipple clamps seemed to hurt even more as her breasts swung and bounced. At last she reached a door with 1570 on it, turned her back and knocked as hard as she could with the cuffs holding her hands so close. As she waited for Janes to open up, she heard the chime of the lift arriving halfway back along the corridor she had just traversed. She knocked frantically as she watched a group of men emerge from the lift, hoping they would turn the other way. It seemed her wish would be granted, but at the last moment, one of them looked in her direction, as she tried to flatten herself against the door and somehow disappear into it. She heard more German conversation and looked around to see that they were now walking in her direction, wreathed in smiles and calling out to her.
Amanda knocked until her knuckles were aching, just praying the door would open and save her even more embarrassment. The men were almost upon her, and could obviously see her naked body in its bondage when, to Amanda's relief, the door she was leaning heavily against opened, and she fell into the room, sprawling on the floor. Sanctuary! At last she was safe from all these weirdos!
Her first inkling that things may not be quite what they seemed was the sound of clinking glasses, and of conversation which had stopped only when she'd fallen into the room. She saw that the large room was part of a suite, and she could see a small crowd of men in suits and women in cocktail dresses, looking her way in curiosity but not alarm or surprise. A hand helped her to her feet, and she looked up into the eyes of Janes.
"I'm glad you made it okay, Charlotte," he smiled, "these are the organisers and exhibitors of the Fair. Everything is set up for the morning, and this is their chance to relax. I thought you might provide a little entertainment for them."
She looked at them and smiled shyly, embarrassed, while they looked at her and smiled, some of them raising their glasses to her. She was to 'entertain' this group of men and women who made a living out of porn, fetish wear and sex? Well, she guessed she wouldn't be singing a little song...
He had a silk scarf in his hand and he tied it across her eyes, blindfolding her. She was led into the group and suddenly felt hands on her body, running over her skin, groping her breasts, squeezing her buttocks. Fingers pulled back her lips, as though they were examining her teeth like a prize animal. All the time, the unintelligible conversation carried on - were they discussing her, or just chatting about other subjects? She had no idea.
The nipple clamps were removed one by one, and she wailed at the agony of the blood returning to the pinched flesh, but it was eased when wet lips closed around each in turn and soothed her with gentle sucking and licking.
She was being pushed, gently but firmly, down onto her knees by hands on either side, on her shoulders and elbows. As she went down, she felt something between her legs, and hands guiding two lubricant-covered projections towards her vagina and anus. She struggled to try and get back up, but she was held too firmly and, slowly but surely, she was impaled. She felt straps across the back of her calves and on her ankles, holding her in the kneeling position, the intruders filling both her orifices completely. The hands left her and she was alone, wondering if the people were staring at her or ignoring her, and also wondering what was going to happen next.
Amanda jumped, at least mentally if not physically, when the vibrations started. Both dildos were buzzing inside her, and the one in her pussy had a little extension to deliver the vibrations directly onto her clitoris. The vibrations were low speed, designed to titillate and frustrate rather than make her cum, but that didn't take account of Amanda's already sky-high state of arousal. If the plane trip, the car ride, and the incident on the stairs had not been enough, the thought of being naked, bound, gagged and stimulated in the middle of what looked like a cocktail party ensured she could not hold back. Within a minute, she was writhing, her hips bucking, whimpers and moans issuing from her gaping mouth, saliva drooling from her stretched lips as she felt her body responding to the vibrations driving her towards orgasm. Thoughts of how she was embarrassing herself, acting like a raging nymphomaniac, just made it worse - or better, depending on your point of view.
Sightless and securely bound, the fact that she was in a room full of people was far from her mind as Amanda screamed into her gag, completely engulfed in, possibly, the most intense orgasm of her life. Somewhere in her mind she knew she was on display, the thought terrifying her, but the effects of the orgasm were not lessening and she felt another unbelievable wave of pleasure course through her, eliciting more sounds of both pain and ecstasy to escape around the gag as she fought to breathe.
When the rolling orgasms had finally subsided, she felt empty, spent, exhausted. She could feel a sheen of sweat on her face, under her breasts, between her thighs, making her skin itch unpleasantly. But the feeling soon passed and she became eager, and impatient, for more - she was helpless here, surely someone would want to take advantage of her?
The gag was removed from her mouth, and Amanda had the chance to work the ache out of her jaw. But almost before she could do that, her mouth was filled with cock, and a hand grasping her hair made sure she couldn't back away as it was shoved in until it hit the back of her throat. She gagged and choked as it was thrust in time after time, with no great interest in her other than as a hole to be fucked. It wasn't long before she was having to gulp down the salty ejaculate of a satisfied customer. However, as soon as her mouth was empty, another hand grabbed her hair, turned her head and she was gagging on a new member.
This was repeated again and again, and Amanda soon lost count of the number of blowjobs she had to deliver, distracted as she was by the vibrators inside her forcing her to another climax during the process. At some point, she couldn't swallow any more, and semen ran out of her mouth and down over her body. She was also splashed over the face with it, until she was a total mess. She was starting to feel a little punch-drunk as she was turned, and her mouth was filled yet again.
The thought occurred to her that these people were using her, in the same way they would use one of the vibrators they no doubt sold - she was no more than a fuck-toy to them. She imagined them after she had swallowed their seed, casually fastening their trousers and returning to the conversation as if they'd just been outside for a cigarette. She was just a public convenience - something you used to perform a necessary bodily function from time to time, but you didn't discuss it in polite company. Despite this jaundiced view of her role in the evening, she loved the feeling of her own worthlessness, and sucked and licked hungrily, desperate to deliver the best blowjob each guy had ever had - if they were going to use her as a fuck-toy, she wanted to be the best fuck-toy possible!
Eventually it stopped, whether she had serviced every man in the room or just those interested in her, she didn't know which. But she had no time to speculate, as she was soon being prepared for her next task. She felt someone in front of her, then her head was pushed back until her sightless eyes were staring up at the ceiling. She felt the silky touch of a nylon-clad thigh on each of her cheeks, followed by the powerful scent of a very moist cunt inches above her face. It descended over her mouth and nose, almost stifling her in its wet folds, and instinctively, she stuck out her tongue and delved into its warm depths.
She could feel the woman on her face grinding her hips in response to her own efforts to stimulate and satisfy. The whole situation was playing right into her submissive desires, she really wanted to make the unseen mistress above her reach the most amazing climax, it seemed to become the whole focus of her being. She worked her tongue until it was aching, she used her lips and teeth where she could, and when she got the opportunity she sucked on the woman's burgeoning clitoris. She was blind, she could hardly hear anything with thighs clamped over her ears, her whole world had shrunk to just the soft flesh above, which was now being rhythmically pressed harder against her, sliding backwards and forwards as she sensed the excitement building. At last, the body around her stiffened, the thighs crushing in on her, and a flood of vaginal juices into her mouth and over her face told Amanda that she had achieved her goal.
The fresh air when the woman released her and moved away was a sweet relief. But she expected that she would have more work to do, and realised that she was relishing the thought of it. She felt like she was being treated totally impersonally, like some cheap whore, and she loved it. When she felt another pussy slide into position above her, she was ready, and set about her task with enthusiasm.
Everything became a bit of a blur from there. There were more cunts to lick, more cocks to suck, and somewhere in all that, she had her own orgasms to deal with as well. She was sore and tired, but still it continued.
By the time she realised it was over, people were leaving - she heard the door open, the sound of goodbyes being said ('Guten Abend' being one of her few German phrases), the general reduction of noise as the crowd thinned, the door closing, silence.
"Hello? Is anybody there?" No answer, she was alone. Alone with the vibrators. She just wanted to lie down and sleep, but she still couldn't move from her kneeling position. It was maybe twenty minutes before she heard the key in the lock, the door opening and closing. She felt the straps being removed from her legs, she was being helped up and off the dildos, led across the room and into the bathroom. She was moved into the shower stall and, moments later, she squealed as a blast of cold water hit her. The cum, sweat and other grime of a hard day were almost scoured away by the powerful jet of water trained onto her body at close range, making Amanda cower in the corner of the stall, shivering.
At last the water stopped, and she waited to be led out and either uncuffed or at least towelled dry, but nothing at all happened. She called out, but realised that, once again, she was alone. She carefully inched her way out of the shower stall and blindly tried to find the wall. She felt a towel rail behind her, and bent down, using the edge of the rail to work the scarf off her head, so that she could finally see. She did her best to dry herself, gripping a towel in her hands still pinned behind her and drying her buttocks and legs, then spreading all the towels on the floor and squirming around on them to dry her front and her hair.
Still damp, she opened the bathroom door and went into the lounge in which she had earlier been held, where her suspicion that she was now alone was confirmed. There were half-empty trays of hors d'oeuvres scattered around the room, and she suddenly realised how hungry she was - she hadn't eaten since breakfast-time. Unable to use her hands, she bent over and inelegantly nibbled a number of the stale pastries, until she had assuaged the worst of her hunger, and looked around for something to drink. There were a lot of flute glasses with flat champagne in, but somehow they didn't appeal, so she went back into the bathroom and put her head in the sink so that she could drink straight from the running tap.
Returning to the lounge, she made for what she assumed was the bedroom and was rewarded with the sight of a very welcoming king-size bed. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was 2am. Wearily, she squirmed her way under the duvet and, despite the discomfort of having her arms still held behind her back by the cuffs, and the lights still burning bright, she fell almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Part 4 (added: 2012/05/22)
Amanda was awoken by the sound of a vacuum cleaner in the lounge of the suite. Her mind went back to her first bondage experience, with the 'maid' Carla, but somehow she knew this wasn't a porn star sent by Janes to turn her on, this was a real maid and, as the door handle turned, Amanda realised she was coming into the bedroom next. Still naked, in handcuffs and wearing the mask, she certainly didn't want to be seen, and she tried to hide under the duvet as best she could.
"Entschuldigen Sie, Madame," she heard, then the door closed and she was alone again. The clock said 10am, but she still felt tired and she started to drift back into sleep. Suddenly the door opened again and Janes strode into the room, pulling the duvet off the bed and exposing her nakedness.
"Come on, sleepy head!" he said jovially, "time to get you ready for your entrance!"
He led her back to the bathroom and, much to her relief, removed the handcuffs. As she tried to ease the ache from her shoulders, he told her to take a shower, then come back through to the lounge to get dressed. The warm water and shower gel felt like a real luxury on her body after the trials of the night before, and by the time she had dried her hair and applied a little make-up, she was feeling more normal and less like a perverted, cum-slut whore. Although, just thinking that thought made her heart beat a little faster.
Back in the lounge, Janes had laid out her clothes, which seemed to consist of a pair of shiny black shoes, with six inch heels and two inch platforms. Amanda put them on and allowed herself to be led to a steel frame which had been set up in the middle of the room - it was basically a set of sturdy metal piping which formed a square. Janes made her stand in the middle of it, while he took her arm and held it out towards the frame parallel to her shoulder. She was not surprised when he placed a metal cuff around her wrist, holding her arm out to the side and against the frame, nor when the same thing was done to her other arm. He then bent down and moved her feet to the side, spreading her legs, before locking her ankles in place. Her new bondage was neither painful nor tight, but it was secure, and she wondered what he had planned for her - she had thought she was about to be taken out into the 'real world' again, rather than subjected to some fresh assault, but maybe she was wrong.
She watched in some confusion as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped it, watching her, seemingly waiting for something. As usual, Amanda was uncomfortably off-balance with this man, she couldn't work him out, or even understand her feelings for him. Once again, he was suited and booted, while she was naked and chained - she started thinking about what it would be like to be out on a date with him, but immediately dismissed the idea as so far from this bizarre reality, it was pure fantasy.
She was brought out of her daydreams by a knock on the door. Janes put down his cup and went to open it, allowing a tall, thin, attractive young woman to enter. She was dressed in jeans, a sleeveless T-shirt and heels, but Amanda's attention was drawn to the nose ring, stud through her bottom lip, and tattoo which covered her left upper arm and shoulder. Janes and the woman engaged in a conversation conducted in fluent German, none of which Amanda understood, before the woman walked over to Amanda, smiling at her and looking over her naked body. She had a small case in her hand, which she put on the floor and opened.
Amanda couldn't see what was in the case, and assumed this woman was another of Janes' contacts in the porn industry, who would be either pleasuring Amanda, or forcing Amanda to pleasure her. Maybe she would be whipped, Amanda thought, with some trepidation - although she liked the idea of being physically dominated, and even enjoyed looking back on it, she now knew from, literally, painful experience, just how awful it was to endure at the time. Now she knew what it was like, she feared and desired it even more - God, what a fuck-up she was, she thought bitterly.
The woman got up from the case and reached up to Amanda's head, countering her automatic flinch by putting her hand behind the naked woman's head. She placed a small, plastic cover over Amanda's left eye, then repeated with her right eye, plunging Amanda into blackness. Now all she could do was feel what was happening to her, which she found unnerving. She felt her hair pulled up and held in place on top of her head with a hair band.
"You need to keep very still for this bit, Charlotte," she heard Janes say, "don't panic, she's only applying make-up."
After a short delay, Amanda heard what sounded like an aerosol spray, and felt liquid on her face, around her eyes. Initially, she was frightened at what might be happening, but when she realised she wasn't going to be hurt, she relaxed a little, and wondered what was going on. It felt like it might be fake tan - she'd had that done a few times - but the spray was only in specific areas, not all over her face, so she was still confused.
After about ten minutes, the spray treatment seemed to be over, and Amanda felt the woman applying lipstick and gloss to her mouth, followed by a little dusting of what she assumed was foundation on her cheeks. Next, she heard an electric razor start up and felt it being used to remove any stubble under her arms, on her legs and over her pussy. She was surprised to hear the aerosol, or possibly air gun, start up again, and she felt the cool liquid hitting her again, this time on her breasts. In a flash of inspiration, she guessed she was being spray-painted, but had no idea for what purpose.
The process continued across her breasts, around her back, then to her hips and between her buttocks. She became rather nervous and even more confused as she was sprayed between her thighs, across her vagina, then up over her shaved venus mound. It felt very weird - what on earth was going on?
Amanda heard the woman packing up, she had a brief conversation with Janes, and then Amanda heard the door open and close.
"What was all that about?" she asked, not sure where Janes was now.
"You'll see. You need to let that dry first," he replied. I don't have a lot of choice if you don't free me, she thought, but said nothing. She heard the door open and close again, and realised she was alone once more. After an hour she was bored, after two, her legs and arms were aching, and she was relieved when Janes finally returned and freed her. He led her, still blind, into the bathroom and told her to remove the plastic covers from her eyes. What she saw when she did so took her completely by surprise.
She was standing in front of a full-length mirror and saw herself, apparently wearing a black, latex bikini and a black mask across her eyes. She looked entirely respectable ... but she knew she was naked. She looked down at her body and could see her nipples standing erect, but they were painted black. Looking further down, she could see the lips of her vagina, also coated in glossy black paint. Her hands went to her face and could feel the smoothness of the paint, but it had no thickness, it was literally sprayed on. She looked at her image in the mirror again, fascinated by the effect. She was 'wearing' a thong bikini bottom, cut high at the hip, and a strapless top. Her breasts were small enough and firm enough to carry off the illusion, as long as she didn't swing them too much. She walked up to the mirror and saw that the effect broke down close up, but from a few feet away, a casual observer would be fooled. She wondered how many observers would be casual when they saw a masked woman in high stilettos and a shiny rubber bikini walking by...
"Okay, let's go," Janes said as he went to the door. She noticed he had changed out of his suit, into a white shirt, riding britches and black riding boots. She also noticed the riding crop in his hand, and her heart rate leapt again.
"You want me to go out in public, like this?" Amanda knew the answer, but she just couldn't bring herself to accept the inevitable without at least offering token resistance.
"I can put you in chains if you prefer," Janes countered calmly. A sudden vision of herself, weighed down by a thick steel collar, wrist and ankle manacles, all joined by heavy chains, being hurried along by Janes' crop, rather distracted her, but she followed on behind nervously as he went out into the hotel corridor and shut the door behind her.
Amanda tried to get into a rhythmic walk, swinging her hips and placing one foot carefully in front of the other, to minimise the giveaway jiggling of her top half. This swaying gait made her feel incredibly sexy, and she realised that the best way for her to avoid embarrassment was to look and feel like she absolutely loved being dressed like this, and dare anyone to disagree - it was the Emperor's new clothes, just updated a little. She put one hand languidly on her hip and threw back her head as she strutted down the corridor and into the lift.
She heard the whispers and knew all eyes were on her as she crossed the lobby - all except Janes, who walked in front of her, not looking around, expecting her to follow, the master to her obedient ... what? Wife? Girlfriend? Servant? Slave? People could make up their own minds, he didn't care, and she was trying very hard to look like she didn't care either.
The afternoon was bright but the air was still cool - spring in northern Europe is not the warmest place - and Amanda felt her sense of exposure rise a little more as they stepped out of the hotel into the busy street. Now people were staring openly at her, and she had to concentrate on making sure she didn't catch anyone's eye directly, as she was sure she'd run screaming back into the relative safety of the lobby. She tried to imagine she was a six foot supermodel strolling down the catwalk, contemptuous of the gawping masses around her, but it didn't come easily. Despite the cold, she could feel the sweat prickling on her brow and under her arms. Her nipples were rock hard from the cool air, but the prickling sensation between her legs and the warm feeling in her loins weren't so easily explained away. While being on display like this was terrifying for her, she was also discovering a hitherto hidden exhibitionist streak. Is there no end to my depravity, she wondered, a little bemused.
She could see the convention centre about fifty yards down the street, with pennants and flags flying, advertising the fair with pictures of male and female models in various leather and rubber outfits, wielding nasty-looking whips and floggers - no-one entering would be in any doubt as to what was likely to be on offer. Amanda was surprised, as they approached the entrance, to see a queue of people waiting to get in. These were generally in similar dress as shown on the posters - rubber, leather, PVC, in the form of tight trousers or short skirts, skimpy tops - but these weren't models, they were ordinary people, of all shapes, sizes and ages. They were certainly interested in her, and there were a lot of smiles, and catcalls to her in German, which fortunately she didn't understand.
Janes went to a different entrance, with no queue, flashed a badge, spoke a few words to the gatekeeper, and they were ushered inside. Amanda finally accepted that this was not a setup job, not something Janes had arranged exclusively for her entertainment, when she saw the lines of exhibition stands, small and large, and the hundreds, maybe thousands, of visitors strolling around, examining the array of merchandise on display - there were stalls with racks of fetish clothing, others with sex toys, stands specialising in restraints, some with larger items of bondage furniture. There were also models working the stands and the crowd, gorgeous young women, and men, in tight leather and rubber, talking to prospective customers about their wares, presumably giving advice on the right equipment for their needs, although, as usual, Amanda felt isolated by her lack of understanding.
As they made their way down the rows, Amanda realised that, although exhibitors and attendees alike were dressed in risqué and downright suggestive clothing, no-one else was actually naked, or even topless. Other people had started to notice too, and she was getting a lot of attention. She hurried to keep up with Janes, who was striding ahead of her, but she found her way increasingly blocked, and had to push her way through the throng. Hands brushed against her body, fingers grazing across her stomach, then her breasts, even her sex.
She was finding it more and more difficult to maintain her aloof detachment as she lost sight of her protector amidst the crush of people. She tried to deflect the increasingly bold attempts to feel her up, but there were too many of them, and soon they were squeezing her breasts and sliding their fingers between her buttocks. She could feel her face burning with embarrassment, and she started to panic as the groping began to have its inevitable effect on her. Just when she thought she was going to lose it completely, Janes appeared and took hold of her arm, leading her out of the little knot of disappointed visitors, who called after her retreating figure, raising laughter all around.
He pulled her to the relative calm of a small stand, staffed by a young man in T-shirt and jeans, who looked up and down her body, a broad smile on his face and his eyes wide.
"Charlotte, this is Dieter," Janes said, "Dieter is a very interesting and innovative young designer, whom I have arranged we should help today." He spoke quickly to the German, who nodded and went into the small 'office' at the back of the stand.
"I saw Dieter exhibit his work when he graduated," Janes explained as they waited for him to return, "he specialises in working with transparent materials - plastics, perspex and the like. I thought he might have something different to offer the fetish market, and put up some seed money to help him start a business - and some of your money paid for this stand. He couldn't afford a bondage model for this fair, so I volunteered your services."
Before Amanda could respond and express her concerns, Dieter returned, carrying various items, which he placed on the small table at the back of the stand. He then picked up the largest of those items, made of some kind of thick clear plastic, and brought it to them, handing it to Janes, while keeping his eyes glued to Amanda's body.
"Turn around," he ordered and, feeling the fear and excitement rising in equal measure, she felt him pulling the arm binder up over her hands, to her elbows and then up to just below her shoulders. She expected it to be difficult, with the plastic sticking her skin, but it seemed to have been coated with some kind of lubricant which allowed it to slide up until her fingers touched the end. Janes crossed the straps over her chest and buckled them under her armpits, then tightened the straps along the length of the binder, forcing her arms together from wrist to elbow. Amanda gasped at the tightness and the strain on her shoulders, and she struggled to look over her shoulder at the overall effect.
"Das ist sehr, sehr gut, Dieter!" Janes enthused, and from the look on his face, Dieter agreed with the favourable assessment - Amanda's arms could clearly be seen through the material, but held in a quite unnatural position. He turned to the table and picked up the next item, handing it eagerly to Janes, impatient to see this creation in place for the first time as well.
Amanda could see as Janes approached her that this was a form of head harness and, knowing that resistance was futile, but already aroused enough to be keen to find out if this worked as well as the arm binder, she stood still and opened her mouth to receive the gag.
It was a silicone bit, which Janes pushed back between her teeth, forcing her jaws wide apart. At either end of the soft bit were plastic rings. To which a variety of clear straps were attached. One went around her head, buckling at the back to hold the gag firmly in place, another under her chin to prevent her somehow pushing it out, and then straps across either cheek to join at a third ring pressed against her forehead, then a single strap went over her head to join at the back. It was a pretty conventional head harness design, but the straps across her cheeks, which were pretty wide and, in any other material would have effectively blindfolded her as they covered her eyes, left her squinting at the world through thick plastic, as if in a fog. She could just about tell it was Janes in front of her, and when she turned to look out into the hall, she could see that a crowd had gathered to watch her being bound and gagged, a realisation which made her both self-conscious and hot at the same time.
Amanda could see Janes approaching her but couldn't tell what he was doing until she felt the bite of clamps send pain shooting through her body. She tried to tell him these were too tight, causing her too much pain, but she realised that the bit gag included a tongue suppressor which rendered her already garbled words completely unintelligible. As she looked down, she could see that a large ring was attached to each of the clamps, and threaded onto these were printed cards of some kind. The weight of them pulled the clamps downwards, making them bite into her flesh even more
"I want you take these flyers around the hall and make sure as many people get one as possible," Janes told her, "and be quick about it - the sooner you distribute them, the sooner you can get back here." He pushed her away from the stand and into the throng gathered around.
The visitors to the fair didn't need any encouragement to take the leaflets - each one removed brought a yelp from the exotically bound woman acting as a mobile advertisement for Dieter's novel products. Amanda blundered through the crowd, not really sure where she was going or what she was doing, just wishing she could escape the recurring painful tugs on her nipples. She felt very alone in the crowd, unable to see the stand she had left or its occupants, and she was quickly becoming disoriented as she was turned this way and that by the hands groping at all parts of her body, not just pulling away the flyers. She looked around to try and spot Janes, Dieter or the stand, but she was lost, and a feeling of panic started to overwhelm her.
"What does it say, honey?" Amanda was surprised to hear English, albeit in an American accent. A couple were standing in front of her, the woman examining one of the last of the cards.
"It says 'Come and see me demonstrating more of this equipment at Stand 75'," she translated.
"Sounds like fun, shall we swing by that way?"
The couple walked away, and Amanda followed them, grateful that at least she now had an idea of which direction to go. She let out a squeal as the last card was ripped from the clamp on her right nipple, leaving her sore but finally unencumbered by the leaflets, and she gratefully made her way onto Stand 75.
"Just in time," Janes said as he unbuckled the arm binder, "your audience was starting to get a little restless. Let's get you out of this bondage."
Once her arms were free, Amanda rotated her shoulders to try to lessen the ache, then tried to catch the sudden rush of saliva as Janes removed the head harness and pulled the bit from between her teeth. When he moved in front of her, she steeled herself to the surge of pain she knew she would suffer on the removal of the nipple clamps. It was excruciating, and she screwed up her face to stop the scream ready to burst from her lips, and the tears pricking her eyes. She nursed them gently, trying to ease the pain, checking them for permanent damage, but the skin wasn't actually broken, it just felt that way. She did notice, however, that the rubberised paint had started to peel away, destroying the illusion of the bikini, if anyone in the hall still believed that conceit.
"Step up onto the cross now, Charlotte," Janes ordered, and, for the first time since she had returned to the stand, she looked away from the crowd of people watching her. She saw a large Saint Andrews cross, made from perspex, leaning back at an angle against a third spar propping it up. She saw two clear pegs near the bottom of the cross-pieces, and she guessed that when he said 'step up onto the cross', he meant for her to stand on them.
She followed his command for a number of reasons. Firstly, she was the one who had asked to be treated however he saw fit, so she could hardly refuse. Secondly, if she did refuse, she had no doubt that he and Dieter would force her onto the cross anyway. Thirdly, there was a sizeable audience expecting a show, and she would have felt too embarrassed to disappoint them. And fourthly, she had been very aroused by what she had been through already, and she was hoping there would be some relief on the cross. The fact that she would be up there in front of all these people just made her more horny.
But the main reason she obeyed was because he had given her the order. Her daydreams of being his obedient slave were starting to come true - he was commanding her, he was binding her, maybe soon he would be pleasuring her, and she would be pleasuring him. The thought was tantalising. She put her buttocks against the smooth surface of the cross, stepped up onto the pegs, and lay back, feeling the edges of the spars against her back.
"Put your arms against the cross, splay your fingers," Janes ordered her peremptorily, the coldness of his tone sending a thrill through her. She put her arms above her head, stretching them along the spars of the cross, so that her body matched the X of the cross. Janes stood to her right, Dieter to her left, and they both reached up and started to wrap what looked like common kitchen plastic film (saran wrap) around her hands and the perspex cross. Gradually, they worked their way down her arms, covering every inch of her skin, pinning her tight. Amanda found her breathing becoming shallow as she lost the ability to move her hands and arms.
They continued until they reached her shoulders, then crouched down and started at her ankles, working their way up to the top of her thighs. Amanda was panting now, hardly able to believe how incredible it felt to be almost completely immobilised, stretched out and pinned down as she was. The light bounced off the wrapping on her arms and legs, still visible through the transparent film. She was so turned on right now, she could feel the moisture from her pussy tickling her as it trickled down between her buttocks.
She was so preoccupied, she hadn't noticed Janes go around behind her, and she was taken completely by surprise by the film suddenly covering the lower half of her face, being wound around until she was covered from just under her nose to below her chin and around her neck. She tried to struggle, tried to cry out, but she was helpless and rendered mute as her jaws were held shut by the wrap. But Janes wasn't done, as he now wrapped the film over the top half of her face as well, one long piece now cocooning her entire head, except for a small gap in the middle to allow her to breathe through her nostrils. Amanda was close to hyperventilating in an intoxicating mix of surprise, fear, and intense arousal.
A murmur ran around the crowd as they first watched Janes wrapping up the seemingly terrified model, then Dieter wheeling out a rack of weapons with which they intended to torment her. The 'transparent' theme had been continued, with a range of perspex rods, which took the place of canes in a more conventional bondage armoury. The young German took down several of them one at a time, illustrating the variations in flexibility available, before selecting a relatively stiff rod, and approaching the semi-upright figure strapped to the cross.
Meanwhile, Amanda, suddenly in a state of panic, staring through the plastic, could now only see a vague shape moving towards her. All thoughts of receiving a little TLC had gone from her mind - all she was thinking about now was how brutal the beating was going to be. She squealed when the rod came down and flicked against her already-sore nipples - it wasn't the violence of the blow which tortured her, but the fact that it was only the first of twenty, thirty quick flicks, too quick for her to process the pain of the previous blow before the next one arrived. She tried to writhe, to somehow avoid or deflect the rain of blows, but she could hardly move a muscle. The audience were impressed and delighted by the violence of what they were witnessing, and there was a mixture of shock and arousal on the faces as they listened to Amanda's desperate whimpers through the plastic hood covering her own face.
There was a break in the assault, but no-one, not even Amanda, thought it was over. Janes now went to the rack, and took down a flogger, the entire device cunningly fashioned from a single piece of soft, flexible silicone, from the handle to the tails, which ended with small spheres to add weight and to provide a little extra impact. He whisked it through the air, making a whistling noise, which Amanda couldn't hear through her cellophane hood, but the audience could, and they crowded in to see this new weapon applied to the tender flesh on display before them.
Janes began by thrashing the tails across Amanda's thighs, where the plastic film provided some small protection, working rhythmically, left then right, then left again. The crowd could hear Amanda's muffled screams and see the effort she was making to break free, straining every muscle and sinew, to no effect. As well as the obvious erotic impact of this action, it was a perfect demonstration of the effectiveness of Dieter's designs, as well as their strange beauty.
Janes now switched his attention to striking Amanda on her tortured breasts and stomach, giving a very professional display of use of the flogger, before finally, inevitably, aiming the assault at the tender spot between her thighs. He subtly reduced the power of the strokes, knowing she was already suffering enough, and that an attack on her most sensitive area at high intensity would be too much for her to take. Not that he was exactly going easy on her - he was still whipping her shaved, swollen and wet labia with thirty strands of extruded plastic, it wasn't pleasant.
Pleasant was certainly not a word at the forefront of Amanda's mind. Her head, the only part of her body she could move, was now lolling back, through a combination of exhaustion and almost intolerable levels of pain. Her face was wet with her tears and the sweat pouring out of her, caused by her continued and strenuous struggles to break free, and by the way the cling film over her limbs and face trapped her body heat and reflected it back to her.
At last Janes relented from the beating, and instead showed off the other use of the flogger. He turned it in his hand to reveal to the crowd that the handle doubled as a rather impressive dildo, complete with bulbous head and prominent veins down its length. As he inserted it gradually into her, Amanda cried out, unable initially to distinguish the feeling from the pain searing through her groin. But it quickly dawned on her that she was being penetrated, and by something fat and long. Her cries became moans as he worked it slowly in and out of her, driving her to the point of climax but not past it. Now she was crying out, entreating him to do it harder, faster. She was still struggling, but now she wanted to break free to force him to make her cum. But this achieved exactly what her earlier struggles had done - precisely nothing. Her frustration mounted.
Janes pulled out the flogger handle and stepped away. But it was only to go to the rack and take down another tool of torture, this time a single-tailed whip in the same, flexible clear plastic. Now he stood back and showed his skill with the whip, as he curled the lash through the air to land with a loud crack on Amanda's venus mound. Unable to see clearly what was happening and taken unawares, she let out a high-pitched squeal as this new pain seemed to cut into her like a scalpel. With deadly accuracy, Janes targeted each of her nipples, followed by the sides of her breasts, then her inner thighs, and underneath her arms. Amanda was once more in a torment of agony, not knowing where the next blow would land, and unable to avoid it if she could. The audience, meanwhile, were enjoying the virtuoso display and the desperate whimpers of its victim.
Janes broke off his assault and approached the St. Andrews cross, once again revealing the alternate use of this whip's handle. This was quite a thin grip, but the workings of a wand vibrator had been inserted into it, and he now switched this on and applied it to Amanda's engorged clitoris, now exposed as he spread her bruised labia with his fingers. Having suffered seemingly intolerable hell at Janes' hands, she was finally in heaven as he brought her to a long-overdue climax. It still wasn't without incident, as she fought to suck in air to her lungs through her nostrils, already half-blocked by mucus as she had snivelled and wept through the lashing. She became faint and almost passed out as she came, screaming out once more as the waves of pleasure crashed over her. She didn't care that a hundred people watched her orgasm, she was totally focused on what Janes was doing to her.
At last, they cut through the cling film and helped her down off the cross, as the audience burst into applause. She looked spent, her body covered in red welts and stripes, the black paint of her 'bikini' having been ripped and peeled by the strands of plastic. They half led, half carried her into the small cubicle at the back and lay her down on the bare floor to recover.
Amanda felt she had closed her eyes for 30 seconds, although it was nearer 30 minutes, when she was roused by the feeling of her arms being pulled behind her and her wrists encircled by cuffs. She groaned, in part due to the ache in her shoulders, but also in dismay at being bound once more.
"Please," she gasped, "don't hurt me again!"
"Don't worry, you're safe for now," Janes said as he fastened the second set of cuffs around her forearms by her elbows, "I just thought that if you're going to lie around, you might as well be doing it in public, and demonstrating some more of Dieter's products."
With the simple arm binder in place - the two sets of cuffs joined by a perspex rod - Janes applied another of the young designer's products, a large but soft silicone ballgag which seemed to flow between her teeth, then expand to fill every part of her mouth, exerting a slight but steady pressure to her jaw. The strap was largely unnecessary, but buckled tight nonetheless. Amanda struggled wearily to her feet, wondering what new humiliation awaited her.
She was rather surprised when Janes took a red marker pen and wrote on both her thighs, then across her chest. On her legs, she saw that he had written the number 4502, in large digits from her hip to almost her knee on either side. She struggled to read what he had scrawled across her chest, finally working out that it said 'für medizinische Experimente' - even with her lack of German, she could guess this meant 'for medical experiments'. What the hell was this all about?
She was even more surprised when he led her to a perspex box, about 2ft by 2ft by 3ft tall, and told her to get in. As she looked at him in bemusement and fear, he lifted her leg up and over the side, then helped her get her other leg in. Now she was standing in the box, which came up to her waist, but then he pushed her down onto her knees, so that only her head was above the sides of the box. To her horror, he picked up a lid, which he pushed into place over her, forcing her fully into the box, with barely enough space to sit with her knees up by her chin. As he screwed the clear perspex lid down, she tried frantically to somehow stop him, twisting around to get her shoulder or back against the smooth surface of the lid. A childhood fear of suffocating in enclosed spaces started to reassert itself, and she started to panic, not reassured by the fact that could see the outside world perfectly clearly. She braced her feet against the side of the box and pushed with all her strength, but she was securely trapped in her sturdy, see-through prison.
The box had small casters on the bottom, and Janes wheeled it out of the cubicle and up to the front of the stand. Amanda immediately felt terribly exposed, as people wandering past stopped and stared, or pointed and laughed. There was soon a small crowd around her, examining her body as well as her bindings and, with her arms held behind her back, she was unable to cover herself in any way. She squirmed around in the tight space to try and bring her thighs together to stop them staring at her sex, but she remained very much on display, whichever way she turned. The air in the box quickly became very warm, and the flush of acute embarrassment on her burning cheeks spread across her body as she heated up and broke out into a sweat. As the atmosphere in the box became stuffy, she panicked that she was running out of oxygen, but as the minutes ticked by, she realised there must be an air hole somewhere.
She found the feeling of being a specimen under glass did not get easier to live with as time passed, or people came and went. She could only hear muffled sounds, and most of those were in German, but occasionally she heard a comment in English about her.
"That is so weird, locking her up in that box, but it's kind of a turn-on."
"It's like she's about to be wheeled away and taken to the lab for experiments."
"I wouldn't mind experimenting on her! From back there, I thought she was wearing a bikini, but close up, you can see she's butt naked!"
She knew the sense of shame which washed over her was ridiculous - she was at a fetish fair, modelling these products, playing a role, what's to be ashamed of? - but it didn't stop her feeling that way. She tried to ignore the people staring and watch what else was happening on the stand and around the hall. Janes and Dieter were busy talking to potential customers, showing off the bondage equipment which had been demonstrated on her. The small stand was full of people, and it looked like Dieter was taking a fair number of orders. She could see a few other stands from where she was, displaying their wares, but no-one had a model like her on show, so they were attracting much less interest. With the sweat dripping off her, the stuffy air finally lulled Amanda into a doze.
She was woken by cool air on her face and, after a moment's panicked disorientation, realised the lid had been taken off the box and she was being helped up. The crowds had gone and the hall was only partially lit - it was clearly the end of the day. Janes released her from the arm binder while Dieter eased the ball from her mouth.
"Thank you for helping out today, Charlotte," Dieter said with a broad smile, "I have sold many more items than I expected, and I also took several large orders."
"You're welcome," Amanda replied, also smiling, "It was ... interesting."
"How do you fancy something to eat, Charlotte?" Janes asked, as he and Dieter packed away the display items on the stand.
"Oh, yes, please!" she replied enthusiastically, "I am starving!"
"Why don't you clean off your make-up and put those clothes on?" he said, pointing to a corner of the stand.
Amanda found some wipes and a fluid, presumably a paint remover, but it was the clothes which attracted her attention. There was a dress, in bright red latex, black latex gloves and PVC boots. There was also a hood in bright red latex, too - she was certainly still going to stand out in a crowd wearing this stuff, even though she wouldn't be naked.
After removing the last remnants of her painted-on bikini and mask, she squirmed her way into the dress. It was extremely tight from her waist to her knees, hobbling her, while above the waist, two strips of latex covered her breasts and formed a halter neck - it was entirely backless and was split low enough at the front to leave her navel uncovered. The boots came up to her knees, and had three inch platforms with seven inch stiletto heels. The gloves covered her hands and arms up to her elbows, and the hood covered her entire head to her neck, with her hair spilling out through a hole at the top. There were holes for eyes and mouth, as well as for her nostrils. She wondered where he was going to take her dressed like this.
When they had finished packing away, Janes came over to Amanda with what looked like a dog collar in his hand - a wide, black leather belt with heavy buckle and D-ring, plus silver steel studs all around it. The dog collar impression was reinforced once it was around her neck, when he clipped a lead to it.
"Okay, let's go!" he smiled, "I have reservations at 'Facil' in Potsdamer Strasse, I'm sure you'll love it." Amanda noticed that Dieter looked impressed at the name of the restaurant, and they made for the exit, fairly slowly, as she came to terms with the vertiginous heels and the hobble skirt.
They took a cab, and it was a wonder they didn't crash, as the driver hardly took his eyes off his rear-view mirror, angled to show his passenger's latex-clad hips and breasts. At the restaurant, the Maitre D' showed only a flicker of surprise, before he recovered, beamed a smile, and led them to their table. They got a lot of glances from the other diners - or Amanda did - but only a few of them were disapproving.
"I thought they weren't going to let me in for a minute, there," Amanda whispered.
"I find that the higher the prices, the less likely they are to cause a fuss," Janes replied.
They ordered food and wine, and chatted like any other group of friends on a night out. The food was excellent, and Amanda had to stop herself shovelling it down, she was so hungry. Dieter, speaking in perfect English, told them about his Art and Design degree, and how he had started to explore the use of transparent materials, understand their properties and possibilities, as well as appreciate their aesthetic appeal. He had never thought about the fetish market before he met Janes, but he really was glad he had gone in that direction. As he said this he gave Amanda a smile, and she thought how attractive he looked, in a geeky sort of way, with his earnest nature and puppyish enthusiasm.
They had just finished dessert when Janes leaned over to Amanda.
"Go into the men's toilets and wait," he ordered, quietly but firmly. She was about to question him, when she saw the look in his eye. She felt butterflies in her stomach - the voice of command had spoken, and she knew she must obey. Without a word, she stood up from the table and sashayed towards the restrooms.
Her first problem was to determine whether the toilets were occupied. She waited a few minutes, feeling self-conscious, hanging about in the corridor as a female customer walked by, looking at her suspiciously. When she had gone into the ladies', Amanda stepped forward, but at that moment, the door opened, and a large, middle-aged man emerged. Flustered, she turned away and took a few steps towards the ladies' toilets, until the man had gone back into the restaurant. Taking her courage in both hands, she shuffled back to the door and went inside.
It appeared empty, the urinals and sinks unoccupied, and she walked along the row of cubicles, her heels clattering on the tiles. They were also unoccupied, and she wondered what she should do - Janes had ordered her in here but not told her what to do once inside. Her greatest fear was that someone other than Janes would walk in and find her, so she opened the door of the last stall and went inside to wait, out of sight of prying eyes.
She waited nervously, wondering what would happen next. So far, Janes had bound her, he'd whipped her, and he had made her cum. Now, she thought - or hoped - he was going to fuck her. But that was going to be difficult in the latex dress - she couldn't spread her legs or even pull it up around her waist. She was torn between waiting for him to tell her what to do, and being ready for him when he got there. Finally, her lustful thoughts got the better of her caution, and she struggled out of the dress entirely, leaving herself feeling horribly vulnerable but incredibly aroused.
A minute later, she heard the door to the men's room open, and the sound of footsteps walking down the row of doors. She turned her back, bent over and grabbed the cistern, presenting her arse to the door, which slowly opened as she looked back over her shoulder.
"Oh," she said, as he saw that it was not Janes standing there, but Dieter, his jaw slack and his pants tight. She was disappointed it wasn't Janes, but she was so turned on by now, she didn't care that much, she just wanted to fuck! She didn't know what to say, so instead she put her gloved hands on her buttocks and pulled them apart, opening her labia to show him her glistening sex. He was frozen by the sight for several seconds, before the sound of someone else entering the room broke the spell. He frantically shut the cubicle door behind him and shot the bolt across.
Seeing the frightened expression on his face, Amanda took pity on the young man and decided to take control. As the sounds of the customer outside using the urinal reached them, she turned to face Dieter and sank to her knees. As he looked down, motionless and seemingly helpless, she unzipped him and took out his erect member. He tried to keep silent when he felt her hot breath as she pulled back his foreskin, her wet lips as she took him into her mouth, and her lithe tongue as it pressed against his glans.
As soon as the interloper left, Amanda stood up and turned around again, and this time he didn't hesitate. He plunged deep inside her, his initial thrust so violent she almost banged her head against the wall. What he lacked in finesse, he made up for with enthusiasm and stamina, and Amanda, already highly aroused after her day in bondage and her evening in rubber, urged him on, thrusting her hips back to make his penetration deeper. At one point, they dimly heard the restroom door open, but there was no way they could stop, and the rather startled patron hastily withdrew at the sound of male grunts and female squeals. At last, Dieter could hold back no longer, and he cried out as he climaxed. His spurting inside her seemed to tip Amanda over the edge too, and she let out a stifled scream when she finally came. She slumped down onto the seat of the toilet, while the German leaned back against the door, panting.
He was utterly amazed when he felt her hand on the base of his flaccid cock, and her tongue licking him clean. He was equally stunned when, after a couple of minutes of her expert attention, he realised that his flaccid cock wasn't flaccid any more. Her objective achieved, Amanda stood up, put her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and lowered herself onto him. He supported her under her thighs, turned around, pressed her back against the door, and fucked her as long and hard as he could. She climaxed some time before he did this time, but revelled in the way he just banged her, neither of them caring about the fact that a coat hook was digging into her back. When he had cum, he just about had time to put her down before his legs gave out. After recovering his composure, he straightened his clothing and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Er, vielen Dank, Fräulein," he stammered, before unlocking the door and stumbling out.
Amanda returned to the table a few minutes later, ignoring the looks and whispers around her, draining her wine glass to 'clear her palate'. A few minutes later, Janes had settled the bill, and they went out into the street. At this point, Dieter wished them a good night and said he hoped to see them the next day. On an impulse, Amanda stepped forward and kissed him, her arms around his neck and her tongue exploring his mouth as he quickly got over his surprise and returned the passionate kiss.
"Goodnight, Dieter," she said huskily, rather surprised at her own wantonness, "I hope I can serve you as well tomorrow." The young designer watched in stunned silence as Janes led her to the taxi rank and they left. It had been quite a day - and quite a night -and the thought of seeing this sexy stranger naked and strapped down again tomorrow filled him with eager anticipation as he hurried home.
If she had hoped to ellicit a reaction from Janes by her behaviour with Dieter, she had failed. He seemed entirely oblivious, chatting about some of the things he had seen at the fair, and how he was planning to meet some clients and old friends the next day, as they rode back to the hotel and went up to the room.
"Why don't you go into the bedroom and get ready for bed, while I organise a nightcap? Take a shower if you fancy it."
Amanda did feel rather grubby after her long day, and when she went into the bedroom, she was surprised and delighted to see on the bed a silk camisole and shorts for her to wear. She stripped out of the hot, clinging latex, including the hood, and wandered through to the en suite bathroom. The warm shower was just what she needed to ease her aches and pains, as she thought back over the incredible day she'd enjoyed, and looked forward to what might happen in the bedroom later! She had a little fantasy about lying in Janes' arms, snuggling in the bed, but it swiftly degenerated into her imagining herself tightly bound, looking up at him, with whip in one hand and his cock in the other. She shook the image from her head and took her fingers away from her pussy, admonishing herself to show a little self-discipline.
After the longest shower, she dried herself on the fluffiest towels, and used the complimentary perfume, before going back into the bedroom and putting on the top and shorts. They were powder blue and, as she admired herself in the full-length mirror, she noticed how much the colour suited her and how well the garments fitted, making her wonder who had selected them - if it was Janes, then he had demonstrated a more discerning eye than she was used to in a straight man. And that suddenly made her think, maybe he was gay - that would explain the lack of reaction he displayed when he saw her naked. The thought left her devastated - all her little fantasies would be just that if it turned out that he would prefer Dieter in bed to her! With that rather depressing image in her mind, she opened the bedroom door and went into the lounge part of the suite.
What she saw there took her completely by surprise. Janes was standing at the bar in the corner of the room with a drink in his hand, talking to a tall, attractive woman. That was bad enough, but the thing that really shocked her was that she recognised the woman in the elegant, expensive business suit with a glass of wine in her hand - it was the famous German supermodel Ingrid Stummel. As they both turned to greet her, Amanda realised that, once again, Janes had knocked her off balance - here she was, standing in only her nightwear, feeling even smaller than her 5ft 3in in her bare feet, being appraised by this stunningly beautiful woman, her blonde hair scraped back from her perfect, lightly tanned face into a tight French plait, a faint smile playing around her lips.
"Charlotte," Janes said as they walked towards her, "let me introduce you to Ingrid, one of my longest established clients, and a good friend. She called me earlier today with an urgent request for a little diversion, as she was delayed in the city. I thought the two of you might get on well, as you both have a similar interest in absolute privacy, and complementary interests in the bedroom. You don't mind if Ingrid spends the night, do you Charlotte?"
The model seemed to tower over Amanda - she remembered from some magazine article that Ingrid was 5ft 11in, and with the 3 inch heels she was wearing, she looked even more imposing. The business suit was perfectly cut to fit her hourglass figure, the pencil skirt finishing just above the knee, revealing her bare legs, with no need for tights or stockings to cover non-existent blemishes. The white blouse underneath the navy jacket was cut quite low, displaying an impressive décolletage, and tucked tightly into the waistband of the skirt, which flared out around her generous hips. The two women stared into each other's eyes, each trying to gauge the other's reaction.
"If you'll excuse me, ladies, I'll see you in the morning, " Janes said, before turning to leave. Amanda looked desperately after him, wanting to call out, to stop him from deserting her, leaving her with this complete stranger. But he was gone, and her disappointment at yet again being frustrated was mixed with her feelings of confusion and uncertainty about what might happen next.
But while Amanda felt lost, Ingrid seemed entirely in control of herself and the situation. She smiled warmly, and reached out to Amanda, placing her hand against the young woman's face. Amanda knew, from the same magazine article, that Ingrid was in her forties, but if she had had to guess, she wouldn't have said the statuesque model was no older than her early thirties. The touch of her hand against her cheek felt good.
"You're very pretty, Amanda - oh, don't worry, your secret's safe with me," Ingrid added quickly as she saw the startled look on the other woman's face.
"As you can imagine," she went on, "I follow the gossip columns quite closely, if only to see what lies they are telling about me today. I felt very sorry for you when they tricked you. The press have a particular name here - Scheisshunden, or as you would say, 'Shit hounds'"
Amanda was shocked - it was the first time she hadn't been in disguise this weekend, and she was astonished at how easily Ingrid had recognised her, even though Amanda was far less of a celebrity than the German. But then, she understood what Janes had been referring to when he said they had a mutual interest in each other's privacy - she could just imagine the headlines if the tabloid press ever got wind of this! 'Teutonic Temptress and Randy Mandy in Lesbian Love Nest!' She suddenly felt liberated by this situation of 'Mutually Assured Destruction', by the knowledge that neither of them would be bragging about their activities tonight!
Suddenly, Ingrid was leaning into her, and she felt their lips meet. Everything suddenly seemed so right, as their tongues entwined, and Amanda felt herself being held tightly, hands roaming over her breasts and buttocks. She felt intoxicated, somehow unable to resist the other woman's advances, submitting meekly as Ingrid disengaged, pulled the camisole up over her head and tossed it aside, then moved back to rejoin the kiss. Amanda felt the silk shorts being pushed down over her hips and sliding to the floor, where she stepped out of them, leaving herself naked. At last, Ingrid broke the kiss, and Amanda was left flushed and gasping for breath.
"Why don't I get my things and we can adjourn to the bedroom?" Ingrid said, not waiting for a reply before going to the bar and bringing her small suitcase, then leading the way into the other room, Amanda following along behind obediently. Ingrid put her case on the luggage stand and opened it, before taking off her jacket and hanging it in the wardrobe. She turned to Amanda with a smile.
"Kneel," she said simply and, with barely a moment's hesitation, Amanda obeyed, sinking to her knees on the plush carpet. Her heart started beating a little faster - what did the supermodel have in mind for her, she wondered, with growing excitement. Ingrid turned to the suitcase, and when she turned back, Amanda saw she was holding a riding crop in her hands as she walked across the room towards her. Her level of fear and excitement rose a notch.
"Victor told me you were very submissive, but I see that you are as yet untrained," Ingrid remarked as she walked around the naked girl, "perhaps we can change that a little."
Amanda wondered who she was talking about, then realised she must have meant Janes. Before she could think any more about that, she felt the sting of the crop on her right buttock, and let out an involuntary squeal.
"Back straight!" Whack on the other buttock. "Sit on your heels!"
Whack! "Arms behind your head!"
Whack! "Thighs apart!" Whack! "Further! Show me everything!"
Amanda felt the tip of the crop under her chin, lifting it until she was looking Ingrid in the eye.
"Head up, eyes down. Here," Ingrid ordered, pointing at the carpet just in front of her shoe.
"Better," she said approvingly, "this is the position you always adopt when told to kneel, you understand?"
"Yes... Mistress," Amanda replied nervously, staring at the carpet intently. The supermodel gave a little laugh, full of humour rather than cruelty.
"I don't think I've earned the title of Mistress yet, little one. You can call me Miss Ingrid."
"Thank you, Miss Ingrid."
"You have a beautiful face, and a beautiful body, Amanda, I hope you realise that."
"Thank you, Miss Ingrid. But I'm ugly compared to you." Amanda winced as the crop slapped against her right breast.
"Don't say that! Never say that!" Ingrid exclaimed, a flash of anger breaking her calm demeanour for a moment. Amanda kept quiet.
Ingrid walked over to the case, and came back with a ring gag, which she strapped into Amanda's open mouth. She went back to the case, this time returning with a high posture collar, placed around Amanda's neck and buckled tight behind. The stiff leather pressed against her collarbone and forced her chin up, with flanges on either side preventing her from turning her head. Next, she applied leather cuffs to the naked girl's wrists. The cuffs had thin chains hanging from them, with spring-loaded clips at the end. Ingrid twisted Amanda's right arm up behind her back and clipped the end of the chain to the D ring at the back of the posture collar, holding her arm in place, her hand between her shoulder blades. She repeated the exercise with Amanda's left arm, leaving her in an uncomfortable but manageable position.
"Stand," Ingrid ordered, and Amanda struggled to her feet. Ingrid went to the case one more time and returned with a black leather waist cincher, which she placed around Amanda's midriff, and fastened the buckles tight, until the younger woman was struggling a little for breath.
Now Ingrid brought a pair of boots and, even though she had never seen anything like them in real life before, Amanda knew they were ballet boots - these were things she had only ever seen on the Internet, and she felt a thrill of fear run through her at the thought of having to wear them. Ingrid made her sit, then lie, on the bed with her feet up so that the German could pull the boots onto her. Immediately, Amanda could feel the pressure as her foot was bent into a pointed position, and Ingrid laced them tightly all the way to mid-calf. When both boots were fully laced, Ingrid sat on the bed beside her.
"Just get used to the feel of them for a while," she advised, while her hands absentmindedly wandered over Amanda's body. Although distracted by the discomfort of the boots, Amanda felt herself responding as Ingrid massaged her breasts and rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger.
Ingrid got up from the bed, unzipped her skirt and took it off, hanging it neatly in the wardrobe alongside her jacket. Amanda watched as she now unbuttoned her blouse, to reveal a black basque which pulled in her waist, and squeezed her bust until it seemed to be overflowing, barely contained by the lacy material. She looked sensational, and Amanda was taken aback by the realisation that she was developing what seemed to be lustful feelings towards the beauty standing over her. No, she dismissed the idea, she was not a lesbian, she was just enjoying being dominated by this woman.
"Okay, let's try and get you standing in those boots now," Ingrid said, helping Amanda to first sit up and then stagger up onto the points. Keeping a firm grip on her shoulders, Ingrid helped Amanda take a few steps across the room, until she was standing in front of the mirror. The image presented was stunning, Amanda had never seen herself in bondage before, and she was astonished at just how hot she looked.
"You see?" Ingrid said, standing behind her and reaching around to cup her breasts, "You look amazing!"
As she watched her reflection, Amanda saw a long stream of saliva escape over her bottom lip, run down her chin, and drool on to her chest, before sliding between her breasts and disappearing under the waist cincher. She moaned softly as Ingrid kneaded and squeezed her breasts, then ran her fingers down to her Venus mound, gently parting her labia, which were already swollen from her intense arousal. Her head went back and her eyes closed as Ingrid worked on her clitoris, gradually stoking the fires which were already burning within her body. She could feel the supermodel's warm flesh pressing against her arms, shoulders, and buttocks, and it felt good, really good!
"Enjoying that?" Ingrid asked, watching Amanda become more and more hot and bothered. Amanda opened her eyes, and trying to indicate enthusiastic confirmation of her enjoyment, but found it impossible to nod her head, and her attempt to say 'yes, Miss Ingrid' failed rather abysmally. So she tried to smile with her eyes to show just how much she appreciated the attention she was getting. But Ingrid could tell, just from the wetness of her fingers, the effect she was having.
"Okay," the tall German said with a smile, "time to get you back on the bed, I'll bet those boots are killing you already."
Amanda could have managed the pain a little longer - at least until Ingrid's delicate touch had brought her to orgasm - but then, the bed sounded good too. Maybe she would carry on there...
Ingrid guided her back to the bed and sat her down. She released Amanda's wrists from their extreme position, and massaged some life back into her aching shoulders, drawing appreciative groans.
Amanda allowed herself to be laid back on the bed, then felt her excitement growing as Ingrid went to her case and came back with several lengths of rope - she was wondering if the supermodel went everywhere with a full bondage kit, or was this a special occasion? She didn't make a sound, other than her shallow, laboured breathing, or resist in any way, as Ingrid tied first her wrist cuffs and then her ankles to the corners of the bed, holding her spreadeagled across the mattress.
"You okay there, mein liebes mädchen?" Ingrid asked. Amanda just about managed to vocalise 'Uh-huh' intelligibly. She watched the other woman pull down her red, lacy panties, and looked at her pubic hair, perfectly trimmed into a Brazilian, as if providing a thin landing strip for her sex - I'm sure I'm going to be munching on that pretty soon, Amanda thought, with more eager anticipation than she expected. She couldn't see what Ingrid did next, because the collar prevented her looking down her body, but she felt the soft material of the panties being used to mop the juices which had leaked from her pussy and run down her thighs. Suddenly, she felt the balled-up garment being pushed through the ring gag and deep into her mouth, making her choke as the juice dripped onto the back of her throat. This caused a thrill of fear to run through her - being gagged implied that she was about to be screaming...
After another trip to the case, Ingrid sat down on the bed and held up her chosen weapons, so that Amanda could see that she had two little handheld pinwheel devices. The English woman had no experience with such things, and Ingrid smiled at the look of uncertainty and fear on the face of her victim. She loved the pinwheel - it delivered exactly the amount of pain she chose to inflict, while allowing her to watch, at very close quarters, the suffering she was inflicting. She leaned over Amanda so that their faces were only inches apart, staring into each other's eyes, her own shining with excitement, Amanda's wide with fear.
Amanda felt the wheels applied, one to each of her arms, starting in the crook of her elbow and slowly rolling down to her armpit. The pin-sharp points seemed to be piercing her skin, like a row of hypodermic needles. Ingrid's excitement fed off the sight of Amanda's face crumpled in agony, the sound of her muffled screaming, and the feel of her body bucking and fighting for freedom underneath her. Slowly, the wheels moved on, tracing a line of tiny marks from each armpit across the breast to the nipple. Amanda's struggles became more frantic as the wheels circled her breasts, crossing between them, trundling up the slope to the summit once again to deliver more pain to her nipples, making her scream even harder into the gag.
"Hush, my pretty," Ingrid murmured, clamping her hand over Amanda's gaping mouth, while the other guided its pinwheel over every inch of her breasts. The beautiful torturer leaned forward and kissed away the salty tears which had squeezed from her victim's eyes, before pressing the pinwheel even harder against the tender skin.
Amanda tried to calm herself and draw breath when she felt both wheels withdrawn, desperately hoping the assault was over. But then, to her horror, she felt the tell-tale pricks on her knees, and then moving up the inside of her thighs. Her eyes, which had closed, shot open to find Ingrid staring at her, her eyes suffused with a frightening mixture of sympathy, excitement, and pure lust. Amanda threw herself from side to side, straining against the ropes holding her, ignoring how her struggles made the points penetrate her thighs even deeper, just trying to stop the wheels' inexorable progress towards their goal. Ingrid could barely contain her arousal now. She knew that if Amanda could speak, she would be begging, imploring, offering anything - her body, her soul, her freedom - to have the torture stop right where it was and go no further. The feeling of absolute power was an incredible aphrodisiac for Ingrid, but what is the use of having power if you don't exercise it? She lifted the wheels and carefully placed them on the wet, puffy flesh of Amanda's labia.
Amanda started screaming into the gag like she had never done before. She felt the pins piercing her skin as the wheels moved back and forth. She had stopped struggling, and was lying still, every muscle tensed, staring at the ceiling, just trying to bear the unbearable, to endure the unendurable. To her utter disbelief, she felt her lips being parted, and the cruel wheel rolling across her clitoris. Unimaginable pain, excruciating agony, pitiful suffering - there are no words to adequately describe those brief minutes before Ingrid relented and took away the instruments of torture.
"There, there, baby," she cooed, wiping away Amanda's tears, "It's over, it's over."
She clambered onto the bed, straddling Amanda.
"Now, all you have to do is satisfy me, and I promise I won't do it again."
If Amanda needed any encouragement, the threat of further punishment ensured she was desperately eager to please. Ingrid removed the panties, ring gag and posture collar so that Amanda would not be restricted in her ministrations.
"Are you ready, Amanda?"
"Yes, Miss Ingrid, please let me satisfy you," Amanda replied sincerely, almost begging to be allowed to lick the other woman out.
Ingrid eased her already moist pussy down onto Amanda's face and let her go to work. She was impressed by Amanda's enthusiastic application, and pleasantly surprised by the skill with which she applied her tongue, lips, and even teeth to the task of bringing the dominatrix to orgasm, a task she was clearly going to achieve in double-quick time. Ingrid ground her hips against the face below her, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her hands grabbing at her hair.
"Is that the best you can do, nutzlosen Sklaven?" Ingrid growled, disguising the intense pleasure she was already feeling as anger.
"Do I have to use my little toys on you again?" She reached behind her arched back and grabbed Amanda's already aching nipples and pulled, encouraging her slave-for-the night to redouble her efforts.
Horrified at the thought of those torturous pin-wheels being used on her again, Amanda increased her efforts, doing everything she could think of to please the woman above her.
"Mein Gott! Das ist so, so gut! Weitermachen! Härter, du Schlampe, schneller!" Ingrid shouted, tugging reflexively on the nipples she was holding, digging her sharp nails in, not caring about the pain she was inflicting. Amanda's tears flowed afresh as she heard the harsh cries, unintelligible but clearly urging her on, muffled by the thighs clamped over her ears. She could tell Ingrid was finally cumming, but this only seemed to mean more pain, as the German convulsed and twisted her fingers, further torturing poor Amanda's nipples.
Suddenly, juices were flowing over Amanda's face and into her mouth and, when she could stand it no more, Ingrid collapsed, finally spent. She cuddled up close to her lover, showering her face with kisses, finally showing some compassion for her suffering by gently sucking and licking the buds she had so recently tormented.
Amanda sobbed quietly as she recovered from the intensity of the assault to which she had been subjected. Her nipples were now hypersensitive, and she did not appreciate the attention they were receiving, however well-meaning, but gradually the pain eased, and the tears stopped. To her own astonishment and disbelief, her body began to respond positively to her erstwhile tormentor's silky touch, and she found herself writhing with pleasure. She let out a gasp of surprise and pleasure when she felt her labia being parted and her still-sore clitoris being sucked. Her back arched as she felt the tongue sliding around her inner lips, while fingers urgently explored her vagina.
"Oh! Yes please, Miss Ingrid! Your slave begs you to make her cum!" Amanda moaned.
"Silence, slut!" Ingrid growled, suddenly taking Amanda's clitoris between her thumb and forefinger and squeezing, making the bound woman squeal in pain.
"You don't tell me what to do, Fotze, you have no say in what happens! Only because you are untrained, I will forgive your stupidity."
Amanda was about to apologise for her outburst when Ingrid suddenly started to finger-fuck her vigorously, thrusting two digits in and out of her vagina rapidly while rubbing her clit with her thumb. It didn't take much to bring Amanda to a desperate, gasping climax.
Both utterly exhausted, the two women snuggled under the duvet - at least, Ingrid snuggled Amanda, who was still tied, stretched out across the bed, but she wasn't complaining. She was ecstatically happy, despite the residual pain from her earlier torture and the continuing ache from her feet and ankles, which were still imprisoned in the ballet boots.
She had started the evening hoping Janes would become her Master, if only for a few hours. Instead, she had become the slave of this gorgeous woman curled up against her. As she drifted off to sleep, Amanda knew that if she was asked, she would willingly become Ingrid's slave permanently...
Part 5 (added: 2012/06/07)
Amanda woke up with that slightly disoriented feeling many of us suffer - where am I, what was I doing before I fell asleep, why am I tied to the bed? - but it quickly passed as the events of the previous evening came back to her. She was relieved to find that the cincher and boots had been removed, but she was alone, and she wondered where Ingrid was.
"Good morning!" the gorgeous German sang out brightly as she entered the bedroom carrying a tray laden with food, and a solitary red rose rising out of a delicate glass vase.
Amanda lifted her head as Ingrid approached, and after taking in the beauty of her naked friend, looked over the items on the tray as it was set down on a side table. It seemed the woman had brought a wide assortment of breads, fruits, and juices, hoping to supply something Amanda might find appealing. However, the most appealing thing in sight was the woman who sat next to her on the bed.
Ingrid leaned over Amanda's outstretched body and kissed her passionately, her lips lingering there, lightly touching Amanda's, before smothering her with another lust-filled kiss.
"How are you this morning, Amanda?" she asked as she broke the kiss.
"I feel wonderful, Miss Ingrid," Amanda replied, gazing lustfully at the naked body above her, then eying the breakfast tray hungrily.
"Excellent," the supermodel said, smiling, "do you like honey?"
"Yes, Miss Ingrid." She watched as Ingrid picked up the small pot of honey, and took out the honey dipper, allowing the honey to drip off the wooden implement and back into the pot. Then she moved the pot and allowed the honey to ooze onto her own breasts.
"Oh dear," she said in mock surprise, "I seem to have had an accident! Perhaps you would be a darling and clear it up for me?"
A response wasn't needed, as she leaned forward and positioned her breasts in front of Amanda's face. The younger woman needed no further encouragement, reaching forward to lick and suck first one sticky, sweet nipple, then the other. Ingrid let out a satisfied moan, almost a purr, as she felt her nipples sucked, licked and gently nibbled.
"Hmm, that is so good! Would you like a little more, honey?"
"Oh yes, please, Miss Ingrid!"
Ingrid sat astride Amanda, who watched the honey drizzle onto Ingrid's manicured pubic hair and slide between her labia. The bound submissive could hardly wait to get her tongue into that cleft and lick out the sweet nectar. Ingrid swiftly turned around so that, as Amanda worked to stimulate her clitoris, she could reciprocate. Both women lapped away eagerly, while at the same time responding to the delicate touch of the other. As the minutes passed, so did the delicacy of their desire. As each woman began to feel the warmness inside grow, those feelings of arousal caused their attentions upon the other to become more concentrated, more focused on inciting the pleasure each yearned for. Nearly simultaneously, they climaxed in a crescendo of moans, yelps, and muffled cries.
"I'm glad to see you ladies are enjoying each other," Janes said as he leaned against the doorframe. Ingrid straightened up, a little out of breath, but with a broad smile on her face.
"Why don't you join us Victor, I'm sure we'd all enjoy a threesome?" Amanda desperately wanted to add her voice to try and persuade him, but knew it wasn't her place - the dominant ones here would decide what to do with her, she had no say in the matter. She also doubted whether the man she so desired even saw her in that way - she was just another client, another sad, desperate woman who had to pay for sex, at least the kind of sex she wanted. Janes employed other people to fuck her, he was clearly not interested in her himself.
"I'd love to, Ingrid," Janes replied with a wry smile, "but you need to catch a plane and I need to get Charlotte to the fair."
"Hmm," Ingrid purred, "I could get a later flight, and you two could be a little late." Janes walked over to the bed and slapped Ingrid on the buttock,
"Get thee behind me, Satan!" he laughed. "In the shower, both of you! I want to leave here in twenty minutes!"
It took rather more than twenty minutes, as they showered together, giggling like schoolgirls, before indulging in some heavy petting, which eventually led to a mutual orgasm under the warm spray.
"Please may I ask a question, Miss Ingrid?" Amanda asked as they dried themselves.
"Ask me anything, little one."
"Have you... you know... with Him?" Ingrid smiled at the capital 'H' she heard in the sub's voice.
"Not once in the ten years I've known him!"
Amanda looked crestfallen. "Do you think he's... gay?"
Ingrid laughed out loud at this. "Victor? No way! He just doesn't screw his clients - either way."
Amanda looked thoughtful as they went through to the bedroom. She only knew Janes - she couldn't call him Victor, even in her thoughts - because of their professional relationship, which apparently prevented her from having a personal relationship with him, something she desired above all else. She seemed to be in a Catch-22 situation, and she couldn't see a way out of it - telling him her feelings and opening herself up to possible rejection was not something she could bring herself to do. He'd turned down a supermodel as stunning as Ingrid, for God's sake, he was hardly likely to settle for a dowdy little frump like her!
As Ingrid dressed in sexy underwear and an elegant black dress, Amanda looked at the clothes she would be wearing today. There was definitely a red theme - another pair of outrageous shoes, 8 inch heels with 4 inch platforms this time, a masquerade-style mask with red sequins and feathers, and red silk opera gloves. There were also a piece of red ribbon and a couple of decorative bows, but she wasn't sure what they were for. As she put on the shoes, gloves and mask, Janes came in to help. He tied the ribbon across her hips, then passed it between her legs, looped it over itself behind and brought it back between her legs, before tying it off in a pretty bow. It was like a crotch rope, except not so tight, and in fairly wide red silk, so that it - just - covered her labia and vagina. The decorative bows, she now realised, constituted the rest of her costume, as Janes peeled the cover off the adhesive patches and stuck one on each of her nipples.
"Oh my," Ingrid murmured as she came over to the younger woman, "you look like my dream Christmas present!" She traced a line across Amanda's breast with her perfectly manicured and polished nail, sending shivers up her spine. She circled around the covered nipple, while Amanda's eyes closed and her lips parted, quickly becoming aroused by the German's feather-light touch.
The spell was broken as Janes roughly pulled her arms behind her back and bound them, wrist to elbow across the small of her back.
"This will look perfect," Ingrid said, as she applied a blood red liquid gloss to Amanda's lips. As soon as she was finished, Janes again spoiled the moment between the two women, by making Amanda part her lips so that he could fill her mouth with an equally bright red ballgag.
"Oh, I wish I could come with you two," Ingrid said regretfully, "but I have a photo-shoot in Hamburg later. Goodbye, darling, perhaps we can get together again sometime. Victor, until the next time." She gave Janes a peck on the check and swept imperiously out of the suite, leaving Amanda with a strangely empty feeling, as if a light had gone out of her life. The feeling was soon swept away as Janes led her out of the hotel and into the exhibition centre.
Her appearance in bondage and not much else caused as much of a commotion as it had done the previous day, and by the time she reached the sanctuary of Dieter's demonstration stand, she had already lost the bows hiding her nipples. To her dismay, Janes took the end of the ribbon and pulled. The bow unravelled and, with a quick readjustment, he tugged the ribbon off her and threw it into the crowd, leaving her naked. As a cheer went up, Amanda blushed furiously and tried to cross her legs to hide her nudity, but it was futile.
"Good afternoon, Fraulein Charlotte," Dieter said enthusiastically as he came over, "I see you are already prepared for the day. I cannot wait to try out my latest design on you."
Janes and the German inventor dragged a low perspex table into the middle of the demonstration area, where a circular turntable was built into the small stage. Dieter's table was beautifully crafted, the clear material about an inch thick with smoothly rounded edges, a slight hourglass curvature to the top, and two six-inch diameter holes towards one end. Clear plastic straps lying loosely along the right side of the table gave some indication to Amanda that she was to be bound to that table, and then, most likely, tortured in some way. The woman looked at the smoothly rounded contours of the two holes and knew which two parts of her body would soon be hanging through those holes. She felt nervous, frightened, and excited in equal measures.
While Dieter spoke to the crowd of eager spectators and prospective customers, giving his sales pitch and showing off the features of his bondage frame, Janes picked up a jar of lubricant and coated an area around the base of Amanda's breasts. Turning her so that she faced the gathered throng, she yelped when she felt his gooey fingers touch her arse.
"Bend forward slightly and spread your legs," Janes ordered.
Amanda's face reddened as she saw that many of the people in front of the demonstration stage were watching her, not the presentation. Still, Janes had given her an instruction, and by the firm tone of his voice and the hand pressing against her shoulder, she knew she must comply - she wanted to comply. She leaned forward and closed her eyes as Janes' lubed fingers coated the flesh around her anus and then pressed gently inward. She felt a wave of arousal pass through her at the realisation that Janes was using her, controlling her, dominating her. Okay, it might only be for the purposes of the demonstration, and to satisfy the contract between them, but she could pretend he was the master, she the slave.
Janes released Amanda's arms and led his client over to the table just as Dieter seemed to be wrapping up his introduction. The practical demonstration was about to begin, and more curious people came to crowd around the little stage to observe. Amanda was guided to her knees and then instructed to lean forward and lay fully on the top of Dieter's creation.
As she lay flat, her breasts pressed uncomfortably against the holes meant to trap them and she thought for a moment that the holes were too small to accommodate her. She was just beginning to think that it was a shame that the holes had been cut too small, and that this might just ruin the demonstration when, to her surprise, both of her breasts popped through the holes and hung freely below.
The tightness of the perspex around her breasts was instantly felt, and Amanda realised that the holes were cut small for just that reason. She looked through the clear table top to see her tits bulging beneath her, and turning a rosy red colour. Rosy red... it made Amanda think of the rose Ingrid had brought for her with breakfast earlier. She felt saliva oozing out from the corners of her mouth around the ball gag and quickly lifted her head and swallowed.
Breakfast! Other than honey and pussy, Amanda had not eaten! As if on cue, her stomach grumbled.
The feeling of something being brought across her waist jolted Amanda out of her daydream. She looked back and saw that Janes was pulling one of the clear plastic straps across her waist and threading it through a slim rectangular slot on the opposite side of the table. Once fastened, the strap held her firmly in place.
Still imparting some information in German into his headset microphone, Dieter helped Janes loop the remaining clear plastic straps across Amanda's arms, and then held her calves against her thighs while Janes pulled straps around each bent leg.
Dieter stood and said something to her, and Amanda saw every head turn her way. Janes nudged her bent leg with his shoe and said, "Struggle, Charlotte, try to get free." He nudged her again, a little harder this time.
Amanda began to pull against the sturdy plastic straps, but felt no give whatsoever. It was then that she realised just how helpless she really was. She felt her breasts swaying below her and then heard applause from the crowd of people in front of her.
Dieter approached her, and she saw the flogger in his hand, then felt its tails as he lashed it across her back and buttocks. He aimed a couple of blows underneath against her breasts, then two or three between her legs and onto her pussy, making her scream into the ballgag. But the thrashing was over almost as soon as it started, and Dieter moved away, putting the flogger back on the rack, before returning empty-handed. Amanda realised that he was just demonstrating that, while the way the frame held her was perfect for delivering a flogging, this was not to be the main highlight of the demonstration. She wondered, with some trepidation, exactly what that highlight might be.
She saw Janes bend down beside her, and saw the clamps in his hand. She steeled herself as they were applied to her nipples, grimacing against the pain. Dieter came over and passed him a perspex box, filled with clear plastic balls, which looked like Christmas baubles to be hung on a tree, but moments later Amanda felt the tug on her nipples as the weights were added to the lines hanging from the clamps. She started to moan as they tugged down on the clamps, making them bite harder into her. More and more were added, until it felt like her breasts were being stretched all the way down to the floor. Janes disappeared from her view, and moments later she let out a startled squeal, as she felt clamps biting into the soft flesh of her labia. Once again, the pain intensified as he strung the weighted balls onto the clamps, and Amanda's moans became almost constant.
Janes moved away, and Dieter returned. He removed the ballgag, replacing it with a spider gag, its 'feet' pressing against her cheeks, chin and jawline. The gag extended some way into her mouth, the tube tapering a little, further in. Meanwhile, Amanda could feel Janes behind her, pushing something similar into her vagina. This was uncomfortable, but she really began to vocalise her distress when she felt him forcing another of the tapered tubes into her anus. All her orifices were now gaping wide, and ready to receive. Surely they weren't going to fuck her, right here on the stand?
Dieter brought out a new object, a perspex tower about three feet tall, with some kind of mechanism visible inside it. What was obvious was the perspex rod sticking out of it, with a clear silicone dildo on the end. He put it down in front of Amanda, and attached two of the tripod legs to the legs of the table, the third leg sticking out in front to provide stability.
The inventor adjusted the rod, bringing it forward and guiding the dildo through the tube attachment of the spider gag and into her mouth. He pressed it forward until he could see her eyes bulge and her face redden, as she choked on it, unable to breathe. He tightened a screw, then pulled the rod back until the dildo was only just in Amanda's mouth, while she was coughing, retching, and gasping for breath.
Now the German went behind his human guinea pig, and positioned a second tower, this one with two dildos, which he calibrated in the same way as the oral invader, ensuring that at the furthest point of travel, Amanda was penetrated in vagina and rectum as deep as possible.
"Alles ist bereit, Herr Janes," he said, with an eagerness in his voice Amanda didn't share. Janes stood in front of her with a remote in his hand and a smile on his face. Amanda broke out in a sweat as he spoke to the crowd in German, and then hit the switch.
The crowd watched, enraptured, as the pistons slowly drove the dildos into the naked, masked blonde strapped to the semi-transparent frame. Each time the dildo pushed into her mouth, she sounded like she was going to die, choking and gagging, and as it withdrew, she sounded even worse, coughing and retching. She was soon bright red in the face, sweating, and crying uncontrollably.
Janes was able to control the three shafts independently from the remote, and he used it to reduce the travel on the oral dildo considerably, on the anal dildo slightly, and to make the vaginal dildo drive in even deeper. He then increased the speed, so that the phalluses gradually drove into her harder and faster.
For Amanda, the effect was to change the feeling that she was about to choke to death, to one of only deep discomfort and pain, as her arse was reamed so violently that it almost completely counteracted the arousing effect of the penetration in her cunt. The mechanical fucking seemed to go on interminably, with no prospect of a satisfying conclusion.
But there was one more feature of the design to be illustrated. Janes slowed the pistons, while Dieter stepped in to make a final adjustment. He fixed a new attachment to the frame between Amanda's thighs, then tied the strings from the clamps on her pussy lips to it, spreading them wide and leaving her sex exposed and vulnerable. He fitted the wand vibrator into its slot, adjusted it so that it was pressed hard against her clitoris, and stepped back. Pressing a small button on the floor with his foot, Dieter began the motor that rotated the turntable that his bondage frame, and their bondage victim, sat upon. The crowd responded to the impressive display with enthusiastic applause.
Janes increased the penetration depths and speeds on the three dildos, and then stood back to watch.
The effect on Amanda was instantaneous and electric. Everyone in the vicinity, and many people across the hall, heard her desperate cries, alternately stifled and then released by the silicone cock in her throat, as the infernal combination of clitoral stimulation, vaginal penetration, and anal rape quickly drove her to an orgasm screamed out to the crowd. There was no let up either, the machines relentlessly pumping her towards yet another climax.
Janes watched her genuine, and desperate, attempts to free herself, tugging at the straps holding her in place, as the tears streamed down her cheeks. He was trying to judge when she had had enough and should be released. He had already seen her capacity for pain, and knew of her desire to be punished, but this time she really seemed to be suffering.
He considered halting the mechanical penetrations, but stopped himself as he saw Amanda looking directly at him, her eyes pleading for release. He decided that to release her now would ease her immediate discomfort, but would not bring her the feeling of being truly dominated that she so craved, whether she truly understood that or not. This was the need that she had paid him so handsomely to satisfy. This was delivering the anonymous humiliation she sought, the humiliation that brought arousal to her.
Janes felt he knew Amanda better than she knew herself. The tears, the pleading eyes, all revealing her unspoken desire to be utterly dominated. It had been a long time since Janes had owned a slave, since he had learned just what was required on the part of the Master to truly satisfy the needs of the slave. Now, he looked at the bound woman before him and felt the desires - to own her, to possess her - returning. This woman, Amanda Beale - he had known who she was since their first meeting, it was his business - could be the one to fill the void within him, the void left by slave jasmina.
He had to see just how much Amanda could take. It was not for her benefit that he reached up and removed the flogger from the rack; it was for his own. The sounds of the crowd barely filtered through his mind as he seemed to be alone on the stage with his sub, his slave, his woman. His arm came down in a practiced swing, the technique of a good lash forever in his memory.
The sound of the leather tails striking her sweat-soaked back was sweetness to his ears. The heavy flogger came down again, hard, eliciting a tortured scream from his beautiful sub. She was perfect, her reactions, her cries as his tool crashed down upon her flesh over and over. He marvelled at the torture this wonderful creature was absorbing, as the three dildos continued to assault her, bringing her closer to what she sought.
Yes, he could see it now in her eyes as the turntable rotated her to face him again. The arousal her torment was bringing her was evident in her half-closed eyes. Her body seemed relaxed, straining against her bonds no longer a concern to the woman, as her 'real' orgasms approached. Janes knew that what Amanda would soon be experiencing would be more intense than anything she could ever have imagined.
As the length of her body was presented to him, Janes knew he must help her over the edge, to reach the level of orgasm a truly submissive woman like her could only achieve while helplessly bound and receiving extreme punishment. His arm came down again, lashing Amanda's buttocks, and then again across her bound legs¸ causing her body to react to the impact.
Sounds from the audience filtered through briefly, as they gasped at the severity of the abuse they were seeing on the stage. Certainly, nothing so violent had ever been demonstrated at one of these fetish fairs in the past. Dieter was busily handing out order forms, as his friend seemed to be getting into some sort of rhythm with this remarkable woman he had brought with him. He was a little concerned at the intensity of the beating he was giving her, but he assumed Janes knew what he was doing.
Amanda's orgasms rolled through her body now, one cascading into another as the punishment seemed to become ever more extreme. She must have really angered Janes for him to treat her like this, but she could not work out what it might be. Maybe the sight of her and the supermodel together had aroused some latent jealousy - perhaps he really did want Ingrid, and he felt that she had succeeded where he could not, and now she deserved the awful flogging he was meting out. Her thoughts were interrupted by another spasm that built in intensity until no thoughts could compete with the terrible pain and intense pleasure filling her mind. She felt a strange serenity, as the darkness seemed to close in around her.
When Amanda regained consciousness, she was lying on the floor in the cupboard at the back of the stand. Every inch of her body hurt, and it felt as though the vicious brute of a machine was still violating her, as her throat, pussy and arse throbbed and ached. For the first time, she felt things had gone too far - she had suffered more than she had thought she could possibly take, and more than she had signed up for.
But that was not what she was thinking about. All she could see in her mind's eye was the look on Janes' face as he had thrashed her - it had been a bewildering mixture of lust, intense concentration, and something she interpreted as fear - maybe fear of just how far over the line he had strayed, maybe at how out of control he had become. If Dieter hadn't stepped in and dragged him away, she didn't know how far he would have gone. For the first time, he had scared her - really scared her. She had always felt safe with him before, an island of calm and reason in the madness she requested and he delivered. Now, she knew just how dangerous he could be. And yet, and yet... she had never felt more alive than in that brief time, when she had been completely in his power, suffering to please Him...
She rested in the quiet area for the next couple of hours. Dieter came in to check on her, and gave her food and drink. He also rubbed a salve into the welts over her back.
"Where is he?" Amanda croaked, her throat sore from the ill treatment it had suffered.
"Herr Janes has gone," Dieter replied, "He told me to let you rest, and to give you this." He handed her a bag, in which she found a set of normal street clothes, and the envelope containing her passport, credit card and air ticket.
"I can get you a taxi to the airport when you are ready. I'm very sorry, Fraulein Burton, and I apologise for my part in these events." Amanda smiled wanly at him, and he went back to his eager customers.
The journey back to England was a quiet and lonely one. Amanda knew she had some serious thinking to do, but for now, she just wanted her bed, sleep, and for the pain to stop. She realised that the scars she had suffered were not all physical...
Part 6 (added: 2012/06/18)
Victor Janes looked over Amanda's latest request, but it was as he'd expected. She had basically set all the sliders to maximum, even the duration of the scenario, which ran from one hour up to four weeks. But it was immaterial - he knew what she wanted, or at least he knew what she needed. He just had to decide whether he was prepared to give it to her.
He thought back to the first time he had set eyes on Jasmina. He was 19, home on leave from Afghanistan, with 3 weeks R&R, at a club with his mates. She was a student, a couple of years older than him, out on the town with her girl friends. He was immediately struck by her black hair and dusky complexion, but he was captivated by her sense of humour, intelligence and vivacity. He spent the night on the dance floor with her, not wanting to risk letting any other guy near her, which she found hilarious, as he was such a terrible dancer. They laughed most of the evening, only some of the time at him, and by the end of the night, she was more than happy to invite him back to her flat for 'coffee'.
She had promised to teach him a few things, and his education started early, as he tried to get heavy in the taxi.
"Easy, soldier boy," she laughed, pushing him away, "you'll get to fuck me anyway, so calm down, take it easy, no rush! If you do a good job, I might even let you do it more than once."
At her flat, they actually did have coffee, and talked into the early hours about many things. When they finally moved into the bedroom, Janes asked her to tell him - in detail - exactly how he could make her night perfect.
When she had literally shown him the ropes and he'd recovered from his surprise, never having met a girl into bondage, he tied her down on the bed.
"Make it tight!" she instructed, "then do whatever you want to me, just make sure it lasts a while. Oh, and you'd better gag me, I'm a noisy bitch, and I don't want to wake the neighbours." She nodded her head towards a chest of drawers, which he found contained an impressive range of gags and other bondage gear.
"Some girls spend their money on handbags and shoes," she said defensively when he gave her a questioning look, "I have other priorities."
He chose a large ballgag, and decided to blindfold her as well, just so she wouldn't know what was coming next. He managed to spend several hours tormenting her with his fingers, tongue, lips, teeth and, eventually, his cock, bringing her to quite a number of orgasms. At last, when he was exhausted and she was covered in sweat, he started to release her.
"Please don't." she pleaded, "leave me tied down, and just cuddle me." He did as she asked, and they slept together like that until midday.
Over the next three weeks, they only left the tiny flat for food, as she taught him how to treat a true submissive. Lessons in how to apply ropes, belts, chains and gags were accompanied by instruction on how to use paddle, whip, flogger and cane. She told him how it was possible to make the right kind of girl - namely herself - climax with no other stimulation than a skilfully applied beating. He had refused at first, but she had threatened to deprive him of her body altogether unless he met this request.
It was not something he had enjoyed, or been proud of. He had suspended her from the ceiling, her toes inches from the floor, and gagged her as effectively as he could, packing her mouth with cloth and taping over her lips, to try and minimise the noise. He selected a flogger, which he hoped would not permanently mark her beautiful skin, and set about his gruesome task.
Her stifled screams were pitiful, and tears were soon streaming down her face, her skin reddening under his assault. He desperately wanted to stop, but she had begged him not to weaken, to know that, whatever she did or said once he started, she really needed him to finish the job. After what seemed like an eternity, he had noticed a change in her response - her screams were more lustful, somehow, than pitiful, her head was nodding, she was trying to turn her body to face him, opening her legs to encourage him to strike her swollen sex. At last, her whole body started to shudder, and she danced on the end of the rope, as the orgasm rolled through her until, at last, she hung limp and lifeless.
He took her down, removed the gag, and held her close to him, trying to comfort her as she wept.
"How the hell did you ever discover that THAT would make you cum?" he asked in wonder. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and gave him a wan smile.
"Until just then, I wasn't sure. Thank you for proving it to me."
By the time he returned to his unit, Janes was completely besotted with this exotic creature. Jasmina moved in to his house and they spent all his leave time over the next two years together, inseparable.
When he left the army, Janes set up a security firm, providing ex-servicemen, starting with himself and then expanding to include a lot of his colleagues, as bodyguards to corporations, rich businessmen and, eventually, celebrities. There were two key people he met during this period. One was Rebecca Hanson, better known as porn actress Becky the Bitch, who was worried about her safety, due to letters from a 'fan' / stalker. She had provided Janes with the contacts in the sex industry which were to become so useful. The other important contact was Ingrid Stummel.
Ingrid was at the height of her fame and beauty at that time, and needed personal security for London Fashion Week. She and Janes got on well, and she invited him to dinner at her exclusive Park Lane hotel. She had seemed annoyed when he had turned up with Jasmina, but she quickly decided she liked his girlfriend even more than him. They had gone to the ladies' room together, and he had started to worry a little when they weren't back in ten minutes. Then Ingrid had returned, her cheeks flushed, but with a smile on her face.
"I'm afraid I won't be joining you for dinner, Victor, something's come up," she said, a little breathlessly.
"Where's Jasmina?" he asked, with some concern.
"Don't worry, she'll be back... presently. Enjoy your dinner." And with that, she swept out. With little option, Janes ordered, and ate, a solitary meal.
Jasmina appeared two hours later, and Janes immediately noticed the long-sleeved blouse she was wearing over the backless evening dress. Her hair was tousled, her face red, and he could see she had been crying. But he could also see the giveaway post-orgasmic glow, and he questioned her about what had happened. It appeared Ingrid had wasted no time in establishing that Jasmina was very submissive, and ordered her to go to Ingrid's room and strip. It turned out Ingrid was far more interested in bondage and domination than classifications of hetero, homo or bi. Those two hours had been filled with a lot of pain and pleasure, and it was obvious Jasmina had enjoyed every moment. Janes couldn't really complain to Ingrid about her behaviour, as his girlfriend had gone along with it willingly, but he did ensure Jasmina had a very intense orgasm that night, through the liberal application of the whip.
It was Jasmina's idea to transform the security business into 'personal services' for the rich and famous. It proved to be a great success, being safer, more profitable, and a lot more fun than guarding sweaty businessmen in Baghdad.
They had been together for five years when Janes finally popped the question. He was devastated when she turned him down, then astonished by her counter-proposal - that she become his slave. She had explained that she would be collared, naked, and obey him in all things at all times - her sole purpose in life would be to please him. But then she had described his responsibilities as her Master - he must make all the decisions for both of them, including her health and welfare, from important legal decisions to such seemingly trivial matters as when and where she went to the toilet. He could tell how desperately she wanted this deeper relationship, and he agreed with great pleasure.
There were quite a few legal issues. She signed over all her possessions to him, which included a significant inheritance from her parents, as well as her half of the burgeoning business. She removed herself from the electoral register, doctor's roll and dentist's list. Administratively and legally, she was a non-person. She cut up her credit cards, driver's licence and passport, so she could no longer be identified. Janes was only to refer to her as 'slave', as this was now her only name. They devised a small ceremony, witnessed only by Ingrid, where she was fitted with a Titanium collar, one which could not be removed. She was later surprised and delighted when her Master had her tattooed with the initials 'VJ' on her hip - his permanent mark on his slave.
They were blissfully happy as Master and slave for three years. Then, he received an urgent call from Ingrid - she had received threatening calls, and needed his protection and support immediately. He had flown to Germany that evening, and when he saw the distraught look on Ingrid's face as she met him at the airport, he assumed it was due to her own concerns. He was wrong.
"There's been a car accident... Jasmina... I'm so sorry, Victor," she stammered. He had got the next flight back and gone straight to the hospital. She had, of course, no identification on her, and it had been blind luck that a neighbour had been at the scene and had recognised her. He had no idea why she had left the house, but a drunk driver had hit her on the pavement. She was in a coma, and the doctors could not say when or if she would come out of it.
He had spent the next two weeks at her bedside, sleeping in the chair and washing in the hospital bathroom. He held her hand and talked to her whenever he was awake, looking for any sign of response, but getting none. At last, the doctors had told him she was in a persistent vegetative state, and they were recommending the life support be switched off, but it was his decision.
She had given him everything. Now, in some kind of twisted irony, she had given him the power of life and death over her as well. He gave his consent with tears running down his face, then staggered away, to sink into his grief.
Now, looking at Amanda's request on his monitor, he was sure of one thing - Amanda Beale wanted - needed - someone to control her in every way. The request for the longest term of submission was a sign that she wanted more than just the quick adrenaline rush of the weekend role-play. His pulse quickened as he understood that she would willingly submit to him as his slave. But could he accept that terrible responsibility again?
He pushed that thought aside, instead concentrating on finalising his plans for his forthcoming trip to St. Kitts & Nevis. Amanda's request would have to wait until the end of the month, and he'd have to contact her to let her know. This trip could not be rescheduled and he could work on the details of Amanda's request while he was away. He was sure she would understand that planning a four week event for her would take time to put together.
There he was, thinking of the Beale woman again! Damn it! He closed her e-mail, and opened the folder with his trip plans. Every year he joined a group of bondage aficionados for a two week holiday. The location changed from year to year, and the participants were somewhat fluid, but there was a core group that he had known for many years that always attended. It was the one break during the year that he looked forward to and would not miss. Those core members had known and liked, maybe even loved, Jasmina, and had dropped everything to be with him and support him at the funeral and beyond. They were his dearest friends.
Victor's heart ached as his thoughts turned once again to his lovely slave. He would never have a love like that again. But, somehow, the depression he usually felt at his remembrance of the loss of Jasmina seemed lessened, as images of Amanda flashed through his mind. Amanda, so open, so beautiful - even if she didn't think so - and so in need of being controlled. And such a delight to dominate! His mental images flashed to Amanda being ushered into the hotel room in Germany, remembering the panic he sensed in her. But she performed, yes, she did as she was told, and suffered...oh, she suffered for him. But even more than that - she revelled in her suffering.
Now, unexpectedly, Victor had to lean back in his chair to adjust his erection. The trade show! She was magnificent, walking through the crowd, brochures clipped to her nipples. He smiled at the thought of her discomfort, being in such a public arena, naked and bound. But she had done it, and done it well!
And then the bondage frame... well, he may have been a little hard on her, but he had to know. He just had to find out how far he could go with her, and he was sure now that he could have gone further. When Jasmina had asked to be beaten so hard that first time and had been forced to cum, she had been almost traumatised by the event, not wanting to be subjected to such abuse for a long time after that. Amanda, utterly unprepared for the assault he had inflicted on her, which had left her unconscious and marked for days afterwards, had just sent in a request for a four-week appointment, asking for more of the same!
Damn it! He pushed those thoughts aside once again. Still...two weeks in St. Kitts & Nevis, why not take Amanda? The remaining two weeks could be planned as they went. His friends would be happy that he had found another submissive, and they would absolutely love Amanda. Love to 'play' with her, that is.
Amanda felt that nervous excitement all over again, as she lined up to board the plane. She was once again travelling light - the same cotton dress, flat shoes and no luggage - but this time she was at Heathrow, and she was jetting off to the Caribbean! Visions of sun, sand and lots of sex filled her mind and, best of all, Janes was once more her companion. After his treatment of her the last time, in Germany, she had thought he disliked her, and expected him to be cold and distant, but when he met her in the terminal, he had seemed in a very good mood. Now her visions were full of him tying her up and taking her from behind!
She wasn't too surprised that he had booked her in tourist class, while he was travelling business - just another little humiliation - but he had booked her a middle seat as well, to further discomfort her. It must surely have been chance that put her between a young man who couldn't keep his eyes off her, and a very obese man who overflowed his seat, forcing her to lean invitingly over against the ogler, giving him a perfect view down her cleavage. The overweight man also smelled badly of BO, making the ten hour flight something of a trial.
When she disembarked, the heat hit her like a wall. She was glad that, a few days earlier, she had received an instruction from Janes to visit a hair stylist of his choosing and get her hair cut as short as possible, and dyed brown. She had thought it odd, but assumed it was a form of disguise, and was quite excited that she no longer required the wig. Now, she understood the practicalities too - with her hair off her neck, not covering her ears and hardly touching her forehead, she was only sweating profusely, as opposed to the beetroot red she would normally go. She wished she had sunglasses and a hat, like everyone else, and she had to squint in the bright sunlight as they transferred to the terminal.
"Reason for visit?" the immigration official asked her.
"Pleasure," she replied with a smile, wishing she could add, "and being tormented and fucked by all sorts of people!"
She was feeling pretty jetlagged and disgusting by the time she met up with Janes and they got in a taxi, and her thoughts were on hotel, shower, bed. Of course, there might be other things, like sex and bondage, thrown into that mix, but she wouldn't mind that.
The first inkling things might not match her idyllic beach holiday idea was when she realised the taxi was heading away from the coast, going into the rural, occasionally forested, interior. The car drew up at an imposing set of iron gates across the track they had turned down, and sturdy fencing ran into the distance on either side. Amanda looked out of the window, and saw a large sign board, with the words "The Sugar Plantation" on it, under which had been attached a temporary sign saying "Closed to the Public" and two dates, one today and one two weeks hence. She looked around at Janes, her face a picture of wonder, confusion and excitement, but he maintained his silence. She had a million questions, but instinctively knew she shouldn't ask them - he would tell her if he felt she needed to know. The smile on her face could have been misconstrued as happiness over her surroundings, but it was in fact her delight at the possibility of being controlled, at not being told where they were going or what she was going to be doing. Her fate was in someone else's hands, and the excited smile widened as she thought about her vulnerability and her submission.
The gates swung open, and the taxi drove along the driveway, through fields on either side, until before them appeared a classic plantation house, all white wood and verandas on both floors, with an imposing set of banistered steps leading to the front door. As they got out, Amanda again felt the oppressive heat, despite the fact it must have been nearly five in the afternoon.
"Take my bags," he ordered, and she obediently picked up the suit bag and took the handle of the roller case.
"Fifty weeks of the year, this is a theme park museum," Janes explained as he led her towards the steps, "showing tourists how real slaves and plantation owners lived and worked in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries, farming cane to supply the British addiction to sugar. For these two weeks, I and a group of like-minded people bring our own slaves here, to teach them just how lucky they are to be living in the 21st century."
As she struggled up the steps with the bags, Amanda's mind was in a whirl. He had brought her here - as his slave! Maybe he didn't despise her, didn't think she was just a rich loser. Okay, so maybe he thought she was a worthless nothing, but he thought enough of her to bring her here, which must mean something? Maybe here she would be taught how to satisfy him, trained to really be his slave. The thought was intoxicating!
By the time she had lugged the bags into the cool of the main hall, she was sweating profusely. She looked at the tiled expanse of the hall, the high ceiling, the wide staircase, and was impressed - the house must be at least two hundred years old, but was kept in perfect condition.
"Leave the bags there, I'll take them from here," Janes ordered, "you need to go through that door there." Amanda started to walk towards the indicated door, but looked back and saw that Janes wasn't following. Nervously, she opened the door and went into the room.
The room itself was very plain - white walls, wood floor, no windows - but it contained over a dozen women, fourteen to be precise. They were a varied group - mainly white Caucasian, but also a couple of Latina, three Indian, two Asian, and one black woman. There were two groups, and the differentiation between them was very clear and quite bizarre. Half a dozen of the women were in the middle of the room, looking frightened and jittery, much like Amanda was feeling, whispering and glancing around at the others, who were lined up along one wall, with resigned looks on their faces. But the really obvious difference was that the group in the middle were wearing flat shoes and thin cotton dresses very similar to the one Amanda wore, while the women against the wall were naked.
Before Amanda had an opportunity to find out what was going on, the door she had entered through opened and a man in jodhpurs, riding boots and a white shirt entered. At his belt hung a coiled whip, a flogger, a cane and a crop. He shut the door behind him.
"Okay, cunts!" he said in a loud, very pronounced southern American drawl. "You stupid bitches [he indicated the group in the middle] must be the fresh meat! Get over against the wall with the old lags, and get naked!" He took out the whip and cracked it expertly, sending the frightened women scurrying as they pulled off their dresses and kicked away their shoes. Amanda noticed the 'old lags' had their hands behind their heads, chests thrust out and eyes on the floor, so she adopted the same pose.
"I am Master Leonard," the man said loudly as he surveyed the women, walking along the line of naked, quivering figures, "and I will be processing you today."
He suddenly stepped forward, grabbed one of the Indian women by the hair, and pulled her out of the line, forcing her down onto her knees.
"Don't you dare fucking look me in the face, you piece of shit!" he bellowed at her, slapping her on the back of the head hard enough to knock her to the ground.
"Treat your superiors with respect!" he shouted, now addressing them all. "Who are your superiors? Anyone wearing fucking clothes is your superior! The lowest tramp in the gutter is your superior! Because you are not people, you're property! That's why you're naked, you own nothing! How could property own clothes? You get what you're given by your owners, and you'd better be fucking grateful!"
He walked across the room to a large steamer trunk, and opened it.
"Form a line and come and get the gifts your benevolent Masters and Mistresses have provided." As they queued up, Amanda peered around to see what was happening. The first woman, a dark-haired white woman with a great body, stepped up. The man took a heavy iron collar from the trunk, and put it around her neck, fastening it in place with a huge padlock. There was a heavy iron chain hanging from the collar which almost reached to the floor. Matching manacles joined by a short length of chain were locked around her wrists, then a similar set joined her ankles. Fully kitted out, she shuffled back to her position against the wall, and the next woman was 'processed'.
Slave chains! Amanda had fantasised about just this scenario for so long! The familiar thrill of fear and excitement ran through her body, giving her goosebumps, as she waited for her turn. When it arrived, she was amazed at how heavy the iron was once it was all on her, making her stoop a little under the weight. The chain between her ankles was so short, she was forced to shuffle along, bowed, like a little old lady.
"Assume the position!" Master Leonard shouted, and they all put their hands behind their heads, chests thrust forward, legs as far apart as the chain would allow. He picked up a pot of paint with a brush in it, and walked down the line, daubing on each woman's stomach with black paint. When he got to her, Amanda realised he was painting a number, 13 in her case, as big as possible between her breasts and her thighs. He missed out the black woman, but came back for her with a pot of white paint.
"You worthless whores don't have names here, only numbers," the man went on, "if any of you is caught using a name, you will spend the rest of your time here in the hole. Believe me when I say, you do not want to spend time in the hole! Now, other rules! You will not speak in the presence of a superior unless you are asked a question which requires an answer. Do you understand?"
There was a murmur of response and a general nodding of heads. The Master, suddenly looking angry, took the crop from his belt and swung it at the nearest woman, who happened to be Amanda, causing her to squeal and cringe as the blow caught her across the breast.
"I asked you a fucking question, you dumbass bitches! Now answer me properly!"
"Yes, Master!" they chorused loudly, as Amanda recovered her composure and her position.
"Number 1, step forward!" The young woman shuffled in front of the man, keeping her hands on her head. He addressed them all as he took out the cane.
"You will be punished while you are here, because you are stupid, or lazy, or one of the owners just decides he wants to punish you. Number 1! I am going to punish you!"
"Thank you, Master," she responded quietly.
"That's the right response. If you are being punished, you deserve to be punished! No-one gives a flying fuck what you think!" He swiped the cane across number 1's breasts, and she cried out in evident pain.
"Thank you, Master," she said when she had recovered herself.
"The only time you can speak without being asked to, is when thanking your Master or Mistress for punishing your sorry ass. Do you understand?"
"Numbers 4, 7, 11 and 12 - step forward and kneel!" The selected women all looked terrified as they shuffled forward and sank to their knees.
"Number 1," Leonard said in an exasperated tone, "show them how it's done." The woman managed to stoop, put the chain between her wrists under her feet and over her buttocks so her arms were behind her, and kneel down, all in one graceful movement. Once there, she sat on her heels, splayed her knees to expose her sex, thrust out her breasts, head back and eyes down. The others scrambled to assume the same position before they were punished.
The man walked behind the kneeling women and pulled a knife from his belt. In each case, he held the woman's pony tail and cut through it, leaving them shorn.
"Trust me, you'll thank me later, when the sun is beating down," he said once he'd finished. He told them to get back against the wall, and then moved back to address them all.
"Your only reasons for being here on God's green Earth are to work, and to serve your superiors. You will NOT pleasure yourself or each other - sex is for the benefit of your superiors, not for you! Anyone even suspected of diddling will be VERY severely punished! Now, I'll take you to the slave quarters, and you can get some rest - work starts tomorrow."
He clipped the chain from one girl's collar to the back of the next girl's collar, forming a chain gang, then led them through the hall and out into the still bright sunshine. As Amanda looked back towards the house, she saw people on the veranda, looking down at the line of naked slaves as they trudged past. There was a mix of men and women, all casually dressed, all with drinks in hand, eyeing the women carefully, assessing them. Her heart leapt when she caught sight of Janes, then sank a little when she saw the tall, attractive woman he was deep in conversation with. Somehow, it made her feel just a little bit more worthless - maybe she was only here as his 'minimum entry fee', no entry without a slave, the quality of the slave didn't matter.
She only realised what she had been doing when the cane smacked against her thigh, making her squeal with surprise and pain.
"Eyes front, you dumb cunt!" Master Leonard shouted as he hit her again, hard across the buttocks.
"Thank you, Master!" Amanda managed to blurt out, fixing her gaze firmly on the buttocks of the woman in front, and hoping Janes hadn't seen her infraction and her punishment. She knew she had to do better!
The slave quarters lay a little way from the plantation house, and were a stark contrast. It was a ramshackle wooden structure with a poorly maintained straw roof, no windows, and the only thing which looked less than a century old was the chain and padlock on the door.
The Master unlocked the door and ushered them inside. Despite the cooling of the afternoon, the dark interior of the single room was stiflingly hot and airless, making all the women instantly break out in a sweat. The floor was dirt, with a thin covering of dirty straw. There were straw-filled palliasses strewn around, a row of three empty buckets on one side of the room and three filled with water on the other.
"Latrine buckets," Master Leonard said, pointing to the empty ones, "water, someone will bring you food later. Settle down and get some rest, fuckwits, you're gonna need all your strength tomorrow."
He pulled the door shut behind him, plunging them into darkness, and Amanda heard the chain being put back and locked in place. She slumped down onto one of the rough mattresses and, pretty quickly, the jetlag took over and she slept.
Amanda was woken a couple of hours later by the sound of the door being unlocked and a flashlight flicking around the hut.
"Grub's up!" a female voice with a British accent said, and the woman put a bucket down in the middle of the room, before withdrawing and locking them in the pitch black once again. Something smelled good, and Amanda realised how hungry she was, having been too excited to eat much on the plane. She crawled over to the bucket and found she wasn't the first there, as she bumped up against another naked body. She squeezed in and, with no utensils or plates, she dipped her hand in. The bucket was half full of what she quickly worked out were slops, scrapings from the plates of the Masters, lukewarm leftovers from the kitchen, all mixed together. As she brought her hand to her mouth, she tasted vegetables, meat, fish and apple pie. It was weird, but she was so hungry, she ate it greedily. Soon the women were jostling for access to the bucket, and the food was quickly gone.
Amanda crawled back to her mattress, still hungry. As she drifted back to sleep, she thought about how they were being treated here, and realised that real slaves, as opposed to middle-class women playing at being sex slaves, were considered subhuman, animals, and beasts of burden. She thought about the slave owners, up in the big house, enjoying fine food and fine wine. She thought about Janes, laughing with that gorgeous woman, imagining him taking her to his room and slowly undressing her, then making love to her...
She suddenly snapped out of it when she realised her fingers were in her wet pussy! She so wanted to cum, but she also wanted to be a good slave, she wanted to impress Him with how well she could fulfil that role for Him, now, and for the rest of her life. She pulled her hand away and tried to go back to sleep.
Part 7 (added: 2012/07/10)
The jetlag ensured Amanda woke up shortly before dawn, but she didn't have long to wait. A few minutes later, the door opened and a grey light seeped into the hut.
"Wake up, you lazy sluts!" Another British accent, this time a man's, shouted out as two men in khaki shorts carried in three buckets. Amanda scurried over quickly, wanting to make sure she was first to the food, as she was gnawingly hungry. All three metal pails held the same thick, grey porridge and, as she dipped in her hand and scooped some into her mouth, she found it was cold. It also needed salt, or sugar, or anything to give it any kind of flavour, but she bolted down as much as she could before she was pushed out by the other, more aggressive women. Amanda was shocked, thinking they would bond as 'sisters in bondage', but it looked like it was every slave for herself. She was worried - she knew how submissive she was, and feared being relegated to the bottom of this new hierarchy that was developing.
"This is factor 45 sunscreen with insect repellent," the other man said, as he tossed plastic bottles around the dirt floor, "make sure you cover every inch of your bodies if you don't want to burn to a crisp!"
Amanda had to wait until one of the Latino woman, 7, had finished with the cream, and she helped her cover her back where she couldn't reach.
"Could you do my back, please?" she asked shyly.
"Fuck off," 7 replied, "I'm not your slave!"
Amanda slunk away, and looked around for someone else to help. One of the Indian women, 11, obliged.
"You two, 7 and 8, take those buckets of shit to the latrine!" The two selected women shuffled over to the buckets and picked them up. But, when the Master went out, 7 put the bucket down and grabbed Amanda painfully by the arm.
"Here!" she hissed, indicating the bucket, "you take it, you stupid British cunt!" Rather stunned, but cowed by the woman's aggression, Amanda picked up the heavy, stinking container, and staggered out of the hut. She and number 8 struggled with the buckets to a slit trench a few yards from the hut, and emptied them into it. As they returned for the final container, the man who had given the order returned.
"7! 13! Get over here!" he shouted, clearly angry, causing the two women to scuttle out in front of him, where Amanda immediately assumed the correct position, the other following her lead a second later.
"7! I gave you an order and you disobeyed me!" he bellowed in the frightened woman's face.
"Please, Master, she-" 7's protestations were cut off by a slap so hard she fell to the ground.
"How dare you talk to me, you worthless whore! 13! You do not obey this cunt, you obey your Masters!" Amanda kept quiet - no question, no answer, no talking.
"Both of you, get over to that frame and string yourselves up! 8! Bring me that bucket!"
The frame he had indicated was a metal bar, about seven or eight feet off the ground, hung between two trees. On it were what looked like metal butcher's hooks, and Amanda realised what she was expected to do. Standing on tiptoe, she was just able to flick the chain between her wrist manacles over the hook, effectively suspending herself. The Latino followed her example. The rest of the slaves were herded out into the clearing and ordered to kneel, so they would be forced to watch.
The Master picked up a stick and dipped it in the bucket of shit, making sure it was well covered and dripping. He then went up to Amanda and 7 in turn, daubing them across the chest, stomach and buttocks.
"Don't ever fuck with me," he said as he 'painted' stripes on their cheeks and foreheads. "Put your tongue out, 13"
Amanda knew what was coming, but did as she was ordered. Her senses were assaulted, by the smell and then by the taste. She felt herself start to retch and had to fight hard to keep down her breakfast, but she managed it. 7 wasn't so controlled, and was violently sick on the ground.
The man took the bullwhip from his belt and, as the slaves watched in mounting trepidation, went behind the two suspended figures. There was a loud crack, and 7 screamed at the top of her voice, dissolving instantly into desperate, racking sobs. Another crack sounded, and Amanda felt her back explode as bolts of pain shot through her like electricity. Her scream was as heart-rending as the other woman's had been.
"Thank you, Master!" she managed to stammer out through her sobs. The beating continued, each slave receiving three lashes of the whip. Their assailant came up to 7 and grabbed her hair, pulling her head up off her chest.
"I can do this all day if you want, cunt!" he shouted into her face. "I'm waiting for you to show a little respect." 7 managed to stop crying for a few seconds.
"I'm sorry, Master," she cried, "thank you for punishing me."
"About fucking time! Okay, get them down, and let's get you lot to work!"
They were organised into three work gangs of five slaves each, chained together, and assigned to a Master or Mistress. Amanda was in a team with the three Indian women, who were all under twenty years of age, and one of the Asian girls, about the same age as herself. Their overseer for the day was Master Lakshmi, who happened to be the owner of the Indian slaves, although he did not intend to show them any leniency for that. He had become extremely wealthy in the metals industry, and kept a string of young girls as his slaves - he liked to use the annual trip to the plantation as a way of breaking in new slaves and finding out if they had true potential. None of the women were forced into slavery, or even from poor backgrounds, but well-educated women from good families, who asked him, some even begged him, to take them on. He was not particularly attractive, being in his fifties, short, balding and quite obese, but he seemed to ooze authority, and even though he treated his slaves harshly, they were devoted to him.
The slaves were given their tools, in this case field hoes, which were carried by Amanda and the Asian, while the three Indians each had a case of plastic water bottles, and they headed out to the fields. By the time they reached their place of work, a field of cane stubble about half a mile from the house, the sun was already hot and they were sweating.
They lined up at the edge of the field, feet planted as far apart as their chains would allow, backs bent, and tilled the soil in front of them to dig in the cane stalks and to turn over the rich earth. Once they had finished the patch in front of them, they moved backwards a few feet and started again. The field stretched out into the distance behind them.
It was back-breaking work and, as the sun climbed up the sky, the sweat was dripping off them. But there was no opportunity to take a break, or even wipe the sweat from out of their eyes, as any slacking drew an instant response from their overseer. The flogger was the weapon of choice for encouraging the slaves, and Master Lakshmi used it liberally on the row of glistening buttocks and sweaty backs in front of him. He allowed them a drinks break after every fifteen minutes, but Amanda let out a groan of pain as she tried to straighten up and found out just how bad this was for the back. As she looked around at the other women, they were all looking as exhausted as she felt, and they'd only been at this for fifteen minutes!
All too soon, they were back at it, and Lakshmi had to use the flogger even more to keep the work rate of his gang at a level he felt was acceptable. The sight of all that naked, sweat-soaked flesh, and the opportunity to thrash it whenever and however he wanted, was having a very stimulating effect on him.
"12! To me!" he snapped, and the Indian girl next to Amanda dropped her hoe and scuttled behind the others.
"Bend over!" The girl immediately turned around and bent double - she knew what her Master liked and she steeled herself for the expected assault on her anus. Despite her best efforts, she let out a cry of pain as he thrust into her tight hole, struggling to stay on her feet under the swift and consistent pummelling her rectum received. If there was any sexual arousal, she fought it - she knew how bad it would be for her to cum without permission. It didn't take him long to reach his climax, and once he'd emptied himself into her, he thrust the now-discarded slave away from him, sending her sprawling on the ground.
"13! Clean!" Amanda grimaced as she straightened up and ran back, falling to her knees and flicking her wrist chain behind her expertly, before leaning forward and taking his limp penis into her mouth. She tasted the other woman's shit on his dick, but had no choice but to lick it off as she sucked out the last of his semen. The cock quickly grew stiff under the ministrations of her tongue, and she started to deliver the blowjob she assumed he wanted. But he pushed her away, leaving her in the dirt.
"I said 'clean', imbecile! Get back to work!" He encouraged her swift return to the line with liberal applications of the flogger, until Amanda had picked up her hoe and resumed digging. A couple more swipes for good measure ensured she was working as hard as she could.
The morning wore on, the intensity of the work punctuated by breaks to try and top up the fluids they were losing at an alarming rate. Now, when they took a break, the slaves collapsed onto the ground, not caring how filthy they were getting, just trying to relieve their muscles and ease the agony of their backs. Despite the suncream they had applied, Amanda could feel her skin starting to burn under the Caribbean sun, even though it was still well before midday.
Master Lakshmi finally called a halt to the torture at about 11AM, before leading the exhausted slaves back to the house. The other crews arrived at about the same time, and Amanda saw that they were just as wiped out as her group. They were lined up against a wall behind the house and the three owners who had been overseeing the work appeared with pressure hoses, which they fired at the overheated women. There were squeals and cries as they tried to protect themselves from the powerful jets - the cooling effect of the icy water was very welcome, but the hoses delivered the water so forcefully, several of the slaves were knocked off their feet. By the time the jets were switched off, they were all gasping for breath.
They were all led back to the slave quarters and locked in, to rest during the hottest part of the day. But, as they flopped down on the straw mattresses, utterly spent, they realised that the wooden hut was like an oven, baking hot, quickly drying the water dripping off them, and leaving them once more bathed in sweat. Despite the discomfort, soon the sound of gentle snoring came from all the slaves, Amanda included.
It was a couple of hours later that they were rudely awoken, with the use of the riding crop where necessary, and hustled outside. Amanda was dismayed to find there was to be no midday meal, as she was already starving hungry and wasn't sure she could make it to the evening meal, but then, she realised, she had no choice.
Thankfully, the afternoon's work was not to be in the fields under the baking sun, but in the cool of the house. The owners were autocratic and, on occasion, sadistic, but they weren't actually trying to kill their valuable slaves. Amanda was set to cleaning the tiled floor of the immense hall, and she was left to get on with it, although she was left in no doubt that 'slacking' would not be tolerated. Master Lakshmi had stood over her, his long bull whip coiled in his hand, and growled "If you don't get this floor clean enough for me to eat my dinner off it, I'll flay the skin off your back." The opportunity to eat anything, off whatever surface, however dirty, was a dream for the hungry slave.
She found the work, down on her knees with scrubbing brush, cloth and bucket, hard but strangely therapeutic. She allowed her mind to wander to Janes - Master Victor, she realised, was how she should be thinking of him - and wondering just what his attitude to her really was. She detected some reserve, some conflict within him, which was preventing him from committing to taking her as his slave and fulfilling her most fervent wish. All she could do was try to impress him with her performance here, and hope he resolved his issues.
She heard a door open and risked a glance to see who had come in to the hall. What she saw gave her a shock, as the most gorgeous guy, wearing only a tight speedo, padded across the tiles, towelling his hair dry, clearly having been in the pool. Amanda couldn't afford to look at his face, but what she could see - muscular tanned legs, flat six pack, hairless chest and, most significantly, an impressive bulge in the speedo - made her remember just how long it had been since she had had sex. The man watched her working for a while, watching her breasts swing below her and her tight arse as she crawled along. He strolled over to the wall, where a spare set of punishment tools were hanging, and took down the flogger.
"Kneel," he ordered, and Amanda quickly got into position with her arms behind her and knees wide apart, feeling the excitement rise within her. The leather strands lashed hard across her breasts and she let out a stifled cry.
"Thank you, Master!" she started to say, but the flogger had struck her again before she could finish. Time and again, he whipped her across her breasts, stomach and thighs, until he was breathing hard and she was crying in pain. More significantly, he was now fully erect, and he dropped the flogger and pulled down his speedo. Amanda just had time to thank him for the flogging before he forced his stiff cock into her mouth and down her throat.
She didn't panic, as she might have done a few weeks previously, when she was so inexperienced in giving head, and waited for him to withdraw, before fighting the urge to retch and sucking in air. Now she could go to work on him, using her tongue and lips to roll back his foreskin and stimulate the most sensitive area, just under the head of the glans. She was rewarded with a groan of appreciation, and followed up by sliding herself onto the erection until her face was pressed against his groin, and it was once more down her throat, cutting off her air. She held herself there as long as she could, before backing up and sliding her tongue down his length so that she could suck on his testicles. As she came back up and took his head between her lips again, she could tell he was close, and her rapid bobbing motion soon brought him to climax, filling her eager mouth with the sweetest-tasting cum she had ever had, and she drank it down, literally hungrily.
"You're good, 13," he said when he'd regained his composure.
"Thank you, Master!" she said, her eyes down, but a broad smile on her face, like the cat that got the cream.
The slaves were returned to their quarters late in the afternoon and locked away to await the arrival of the remnants of the owners' evening meal. They were starting to realise that being a true slave actually consisted off a lot of hard work, drudgery and boredom, interspersed with brief moments of intense pain and even briefer moments of excitement, although not one of them had achieved an orgasm since they arrived. Now, there was nothing to do but lie around in the semi-darkness, resting and waiting. They didn't speak to each other - each was isolated in her own world of thoughts, unsure whether they were even allowed to 'chat'. For Amanda, her thoughts turned once more to food, and how to ensure she got sufficient sustenance to keep her strength up for the forthcoming trials.
When the door was unlocked and the bucket delivered, Amanda could hardly wait until the Master had withdrawn before she moved forward to grab what she could. But 7 had already beaten her to it.
"Back off, bitch!" she hissed into the darkness, and Amanda felt nails scrape down her cheek, breaking the skin and drawing blood. She fell back, dismayed by the violence of the repulse, hanging back even as the other women moved in. By the time she had recovered herself and plucked up enough courage to go back, the bucket was virtually empty, and she was reduced to scraping the last morsels off the bottom, chewing gristle the others had deemed inedible, and sucking on ribs already picked clean. She crawled back to her bed, still hungry, and cried herself to sleep.
She was woken a few hours later with a hand clamped over her mouth. She felt a woman's lips against her ear, and fingernails pinching her nipple.
"I am going to make you suffer now, bitch, don't try to fight me or I'll kill you!" she heard 7 whisper into her ear. The fingers left her breast and she suddenly felt them between her legs, forcing their way into her dry cunt. She whimpered as they pushed deeper, their motions finally making her juices flow and easing the pain of the violation. But this only encouraged 7 to force a third finger inside her, increasing the speed with which she thrust in and out.
"Please... don't!" Amanda begged in an urgent whisper, as she felt herself becoming aroused, but there was no let-up, no respite from the cynical manipulation. She fought to resist her own body, but the build-up of sexual frustration was too great, she was being driven inexorably to orgasm. Now, her only thought was to try and keep the noise to a minimum, but she was failing in that as well, moaning and crying out as she reached the most unwanted climax of her life. 7 did not stop there either, driving her fingers in harder, deeper, faster, as Amanda howled out. Several of the other women were now getting very nervous of the racket she was making, and urged her to keep quiet. But Amanda was beyond rational thought, well on the way to a second climax, when all hell broke loose.
The chain rattled and the door flew open, torch beams flashing around the hut at fourteen bodies apparently in a deep, almost catatonic, sleep, and one writhing on her mattress, her back arched, her fingers in her crotch, trying to bring the orgasm promised when 7 snatched her hand away and dived for her own bed on hearing the approaching footsteps.
The two owners grabbed Amanda and threw her to the ground outside, before locking the other slaves in once more. They dragged her, dazed and confused, to the punishment frame and, moments later, had her hanging upside down by her ankle chains, stretched taut with a spike driven between the links of her wrist chains and into the ground. She knew she was in real trouble now, her perceived crime serious enough to warrant 'severe punishment'. She considered protesting her innocence, but remembered her earlier transgression initiated by 7, and knew it would make no difference. All she could do was suffer in silence.
But suffering in silence was just not possible, because the target of their attack was her wet and swollen sex, the weapons leather floggers, and the power of the attack extreme. She was soon screaming as the leather fronds slapped hard onto her labia, already made hypersensitive by her earlier orgasm, torturing her beyond reason. The other women cowered in the dark as they listened to the hysterical screams outside, terrified that one of their number should be so tortured as to produce that desperate sound. Even 7 felt sorry for the victim of her spite.
By the time she realised the attack was over, Amanda had been left alone, hanging inverted, with no prospect of release before the morning. Her racking sobs were heard only by the forest, and the imprisoned slaves close by. Eventually, silence fell in the clearing as she lost consciousness.
Amanda woke as she hit the ground, released by the Masters as they delivered the morning gruel. She lay there for several minutes, trying to come to terms with the ache in her muscles and the still-searing pain from her tortured sex, until a boot kicked against her buttock, encouraging her to get up.
She struggled to her feet and staggered into the hut, hoping to find some food, but it had already been eaten, and she forlornly licked the metal bucket, before breaking down in sobs. The slaves looked down at her and a general feeling of guilt at not helping her, or even saving her any food, was universal.
"Today, gang 1 will be under the control of me, Master Leonard," the owner announced, "gang 2 are with Mistress Francoise, gang 3 with Master Victor."
Amanda looked up in hope and alarm - Master Victor! There he was, standing over her, dressed in tailored shorts and a plain, loose-fitting shirt, the Master's tools at his belt. She scrambled to her feet and assumed the perfect presentation position, thrusting out her breasts towards her putative Master, desperate to take this opportunity to impress. The other four slaves quickly joined her, and he clipped their collars together to form a small chain gang, before leading them out into the morning sun.
He took them back to the field they had tilled the previous day, but this time they each had a hessian sack full of sugar can shoots ready to be planted. Once again, they lined up over the furrows, bent down and had to push the shoot into the soft dirt, before moving backwards and planting the next stalk.
If the previous day had been back-breaking, planting was orders of magnitude worse. All five women were soon suffering badly, wilting under the tropical sun, and Master Victor was forced to make liberal and forceful use of the flogger to keep them focused on their work. Amanda couldn't help but cry out as each blow struck her on the back, buttocks or thighs, the leather tails straying onto the flesh already bruised and beaten earlier. Janes found it was becoming more and more difficult to get them back to work after each drinks break, as they sprawled on the fresh earth, aching and exhausted.
The only exception was Amanda - she was just as tired and hurting just as much, if not more, than the others, but she had motivation - she was out to impress. She struggled to her feet at Janes' first word of command, and somehow the others felt they should follow her lead. Janes had seen how she had suffered the previous night, and was amazed now by her will to fight her way through. It didn't make him go easy on her - just the opposite, in fact, as he sought to test her endurance to the absolute limits. It was four hours of pure and almost incessant torture for her, reaching levels of pain she had never even imagined, but she struggled on gamely until, at last, they trudged back to the house.
She was so exhausted, she was knocked off her feet by the water jets and couldn't drag herself upright, until two of the Indian girls from her team helped her up, supporting her as they were herded back into the sweltering slave quarters for their enforced siesta. She was asleep before she hit the sacking.
Amanda's afternoon work was in the kitchen, washing up and preparing vegetables for the evening meal. She had hoped to smuggle a couple of vegetables for eating later, but Janes was keeping an eagle eye on all the slaves, but on Amanda particularly, making sure nothing was stolen. The afternoon passed without incident, and Amanda was disappointed when Janes returned them to the hut without having made any sexual advance at all - he was cold and efficient, and gave her no clue about his feelings at all.
Her next trial was the arrival of the food that night. She held back, but there was no sound from anyone else. She edged forward cautiously, but found no-one in her way. Nervously, she took her food and moved back.
"Thank you," she whispered to the darkness as she sat down to eat, and the others moved in. Nothing had been said, but they had all individually come to the same conclusion - '13' had suffered enough.
An hour later, the door opened once again, and the slaves wondered what new torture was to be delivered.
"3, 4, 7, 9, 12 and 15 - come!" The selected slaves made their way fearfully out of the hut, and the remaining slaves were once again locked away.
"What's going on?" Amanda whispered into the void.
"Our Masters and Mistresses are bored," came the answer bitterly, from one of the slaves who had been through this before, "they've been taken to provide 'entertainment'. God help them!"
The room fell silent, as each woman considered the implications of that exclamation, and thanked their luck that it had not been them. It was several hours later before the slaves were brought back, and it was clear from the groans, crying and sobbing of those returning that it had been a traumatic experience. From the latrine buckets came the sound of one retching and vomiting. No-one asked for a report of the night's events and none was offered, the slaves just lay awake, wondering at this new night terror.
Day three of their time on the plantation began as before, but there was a surprise in store for Amanda.
"Okay, gang 1 will be under Master Tom, gang 2 are with Master Lakshmi, gang 3 with Mistress Ingrid."
Amanda looked up and saw the tall German supermodel looking absolutely stunning in a red bikini and high heels, with large sunglasses covering half her lightly tanned face. The impression of an out-of-place tourist was only spoiled by the belt of punishment tools at her slender waist.
The slaves had to carry not only their tools and water out to the fields, there was also Ingrid's sun lounger, parasol and cool box. The Mistress led them to a drainage ditch, choked with weeds and brambles, and had the slaves set up her lounger and shade as if she were sunbathing by the pool.
"Okay, get your fat behinds down there and start clearing, you lazy cunts! I want this whole section finished this morning!" Amanda looked in dismay at the ditch, which extended out into the distance.
As the slaves slid down the loose earth and into the ditch, they soon realised how evil this task was. The stagnant water at the bottom stank horribly and was a breeding ground for mosquitos, which bit them incessantly, driving them mad. They had been given sickles which were deliberately blunt, so that the untrained women would not cause themselves serious injury, but this meant that hacking through the tangled mass of weeds was incredibly hard work. That, combined with the lack of even the slightest air movement in the ditch, left them sweating profusely and gasping for breath.
Ingrid stood at the edge of the ditch, looking down on her slaves toiling away, and could tell they were struggling. She uncoiled the bullwhip, and expertly targeted the naked flesh below her, being rewarded with a yelp or squeal each time she caught a back, buttock or breast. Once she had given sufficient 'encouragement' to ensure the women were working frantically in the hope of avoiding the whip, she poured herself a long, cool Mint Julep and lay back on the lounger to relax.
"Drinks break!" she called out about twenty minutes later, and the slaves gratefully scrambled out of the hellhole and chugged the warm water from the plastic bottles. Amanda looked over at Ingrid, and saw that she was naked and lying on her back, exposing her perfect breasts and neatly trimmed strip of pubic hair to them.
"13! Come and top up my sun screen!" Amanda scurried over and picked up the bottle of tanning oil, noting the contrast with the thick slimy gunk they were given to use. She wiped her filthy hands on her filthy thighs in a vain attempt to clean them. She knew she couldn't possibly touch Ingrid's beautiful flesh with such dirty hands, and she sacrificed what remained in her water bottle to rinse them, before wiping them on a patch of grass. Satisfied, she began to work the oil into the supermodel's smooth, toned skin.
She carefully massaged it onto her stomach and then her breasts, raising an appreciative purr from the German. When she moved her hand lower, Ingrid opened her thighs, and Amanda saw her pussy lips glistening in the bright sunlight. She knew her efforts, as she rubbed the oil into the soft flesh of her inner thigh, were having an effect on the Mistress, but she was also becoming quite aroused herself.
"Hmm!" Ingrid murmured appreciatively, then shouted, "15! Get over here and sort me out! The rest of you, get back to work!"
Amanda watched as the Asian girl bent down and put her head between the supermodel's thighs, realising that she was jealous - it should have been her licking out Mistress Ingrid! Crestfallen, she slid back down into the stinking mire with the Indian slaves and resumed work, hacking viciously at the plants. The sounds of the slave owner's pleasure drifted down to them, accompanied by occasional muffled screams from the Asian, as Ingrid lashed out violently with the riding crop at the defenceless buttocks presented to her.
The morning passed slowly as the women worked almost continuously, always under threat of the lash from above. Finally, Ingrid called them out and had them line up on the bank, hands on head.
"You have failed to complete the task I set you, you lazy bitches!" she shouted as she walked along the line, swishing her cane threateningly. Amanda glanced along the ditch, and was amazed at how much they had achieved, but knew that, however unrealistic the target, they had failed to achieve it. They deserved to be punished.
Ingrid delivered one violent blow to each pair of buttocks, then walked back along the line, doubling the punishment. The slaves, through gritted teeth, thanked her. She now came down the front of the line, swiping the cane across their undefended breasts, reducing all of them to howls of pain and floods of tears, but each stammered out her thanks and continued to present herself for punishment. Ingrid was impressed by the level of training these slaves had achieved and, having satisfied her own sadistic urges, led them back to the house.
Amanda's afternoon was blissfully uneventful, almost dull, spent in the mindless drudgery of cleaning and polishing the silver. Ingrid stopped by a couple of times, to criticise her work and punish her with the crop for imagined failings, but the rest of the time she was able to spend recovering from her earlier exertions.
The truce over the 'evening meal' seemed to be holding too, so Amanda went to sleep content and relatively well fed, although all the women were finding the rations barely adequate to support the amount of energy they were having to expend during the day - the slave diet was proving pretty effective for losing weight, even if they didn't need to!
"1, 2, 6, 10, 13 and 14 - come!" Amanda realised, with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she had been selected to provide 'entertainment', whatever that entailed. The women trooped out, eyes wide with fright, and were led up to the house.
It turned out that each woman had been selected by a specific Master or Mistress, and would be subjected to their own particular brand of hell, in private. All the owners had agreed that none of the slaves should be permanently marked or seriously injured during the two week period. They had also decided that none of the slaves should receive any sexual release - as plantation slaves for these two weeks, they would experience the rigours of hard work and harsh treatment that they might not suffer at any other time during the year. Any owner inadvertently allowing a slave to achieve an orgasm would suffer some light-hearted ribbing from their colleagues, and would be expected to make a sizable donation to a local charity.
But between those two extremes, there was plenty of leeway for inventive minds to devise cruel and unusual punishments. These night sessions were opportunities to explore the diverse pleasures (for the owners) of electric shock torture, scatology, or breath play. Each slave was taken to a separate room, and the anonymous sounds of heart-rending screams rose from random parts of the mansion as they were subjected to tortures, humiliations and degradations, which few of them wanted to talk about later - most never wanted think about them again.
Amanda was led to a candle-lit room, in which the main feature seemed to be a large half-barrel laid on its side.
"Hello, 13." She recognised the voice as that of Ingrid, and she turned to see the German dressed in a very elegant off-the-shoulder evening dress, which was split from hem to hip, revealing her evenly tanned leg to her thigh. Amanda immediately presented herself in the kneeling position, feeling ashamed of how filthy and smelly she was in the presence of such beauty.
"Get up, my pretty little slut," she said with a smile, "I need to talk to you."
Amanda stood up, but Ingrid gently pushed her back against the half-barrel, until she was lying back against it. Its purpose now became clear as the owner locked the slave's wrists and ankles to it, so that she was stretched tight, with her back arched against the curved surface, staring at the ceiling above. She raised her head and watched the beautiful supermodel walk over to the chest of drawers and bring back a three-stick candelabra.
"I believe you have a secret desire to be Master Victor's slave on a permanent basis. Am I right?"
"Yes, Mistr- AAAAAAAIEEEE!!" Amanda screamed as three streams of burning wax hit her breasts simultaneously, before rapidly cooling and forming solid blobs of wax on both her nipples. Ingrid picked off the wax, but merely so she could repeat the exercise, wrenching another scream from the restrained slave.
"Do you really think you are good enough for him, 13?" As she asked this, she dribbled more hot wax across Amanda's stomach, making her squirm in exquisite agony.
"I-I don't know, Mistress," she wailed in response, "I know I may not be pretty enough, or sexy enough- AAAAAAAIEEEE!!" Amanda screamed at the top of her voice again, as Ingrid poured the hot liquid onto her bare pussy mound, filling up the slight gap between her exposed labia. The slave was pulling desperately at her bonds now, and weeping copiously.
"I told you before, don't talk that way about yourself! I suppose you think that all this is just another of your requests, don't you? Something you instigated?" This question was accompanied by a river of molten wax running down her inner thigh, resulting in more cries of anguish.
"I wasn't sure, Mistress! I thought it might be something different, even though I was paying for it."
"You dumb fuck! Check when you get home, you'll find this is all 'off-the-clock'. Victor brought you here entirely at his own expense. He likes you. He may even love you. But there is a problem." Ingrid absent-mindedly created trails of wax all across Amanda's body, relishing her screams and very obvious distress.
"Victor had another slave, one he loved very much, but she died. Now, he doesn't know if he can stand to leave himself open to that pain again. I tell you this for two reasons. One is so you know what is at stake - if you want to be his slave, you have a hell of a lot to live up to. Secondly, if you EVER cause him pain, you will have me to answer to, and I will not be as nice as I am now. Do you understand, slave?"
She emphasised this last point by parting Amanda's pussy lips and pouring the burning wax directly on to her exposed clitoris. Amanda screamed until she lost her voice completely, thrashing wildly but uselessly on the barrel. Ingrid replaced the candelabra on the side, and came back, smothering the distraught slave with kisses on her face, neck and breasts. When she had finally calmed down enough to speak, she answered her Mistress' question.
"Yes, Mistress, I understand, and thank you, both for telling me, and for my punishment."
"Good. Now, enough of the seriousness, let's have some fun." Amanda spent the next two hours pleasuring the German dominatrix with her tongue, and with more of her agonised screams as the torture resumed.
The days started to become a blur for all the slaves, a constant round of gruellingly hard work, moments of extreme pain, and long periods of dread, waiting for the next attack. And all the time, the gnawing hunger. Most of them had thought they would be desperately horny, being deprived of sex for so long, but in reality, they dreamt about food, and what they hoped to eat when they got out of here.
Amanda seemed to have developed a reputation, as a provider of the best blowjobs, to male or female, and also as a pain slut. She enjoyed the former, but feared the latter, as the owners seemed to compete with each other to see who could make her scream longest and loudest. As far as she was concerned, none of them could compete with Mistress Ingrid!
But she hardly saw Janes again. He did not take charge of her work team, and he didn't once call her up to the house at night. What the hell was going on? Amanda had no clue.
"Wake up, you sleepy heads!" the cry came from the door one morning, "Today is the day you are released from the plantation!" The Master who had spoken came around the room, unlocking the manacles and collars from all the slaves. The doors were thrown open and the women, naked, filthy and carrying the marks of their punishment, emerged blinking into the sunlight, where they were greeted by their smiling owners, to be led up to the plantation house for a hot shower, a square meal, and a damn good fuck!
All except Amanda. She emerged to find that Janes wasn't there. As she watched the joyous scenes around her, she knew she had failed in her attempt to convince Him to take her as His slave. She was devastated, and could feel the tears trickling down her cheeks.
"Why so sad, little one?" It was Ingrid, with her own slave on her arm.
"He's gone, hasn't he, Mistress?" Amanda asked, desolated.
"Like I said before, for an intelligent woman, you're such a dumb fuck! He's in the house - he didn't think it appropriate to meet you here, as you are not officially a slave."
Ingrid led the bemused woman to the house, and up to the room where He was waiting.
"Good luck, you beautiful little slut! And remember, if he doesn't want you, I've got first call on your depraved ass, okay?" Amanda smiled at her, too nervous to speak, and opened the door.
Janes turned around as she came in. He was standing tall and stiffly, looking almost as nervous as she felt, and she had a sudden vision that they were in a kinky version of Pride and Prejudice, where Mr Darcy is in chinos and Miss Elizabeth Bennett is naked, filthy, and has tan lines around her neck, wrists and ankles. The thought made her giggle, and it seemed to break the spell.
"Hello, Amanda," Janes started hesitantly into the speech he had rehearsed so many times in his head, "You're a free woman once more. I hope you enjoyed your time as a slave - if not, I apologise profusely. There are clothes here, a shower, make-up, everything. There's a suite booked for you in a five star hotel on the other side of the island for the next two weeks. You might not want to ever see me again, or we can continue our business relationship as before, the choice is yours
"However, over these last two weeks, I have seen what a remarkable woman you are, so beautiful, so strong, and so utterly, bewitchingly, delightfully submissive. I love you, Amanda. I desperately want you, as my slave, to own you completely, to look after you, and care for you in every way."
Victor nodded towards a table against the wall. "On the table over there are legal papers. If you sign them, you sign all your possessions - your money, your investments, your properties - over to me. You would also be granting me power of attorney making you, as close as it is possible to be in the modern world, a legally owned slave. There are also the collar and cuffs I would have you wear."
Amanda glanced over at the items on the table and nearly broke down in tears with the realisation that Victor had come to the island with all of this already planned out in his head. She had even carried them in for him when they had arrived, totally unaware that everything she had ever wanted was already, literally, in her grasp. She realised that he had brought her to this island as a final test, hoping this would be the outcome.
"The choice is yours," he continued, cursing his awkward, stiff delivery and realising he was repeating himself.. He could see his words had had an effect on Amanda, but could not, or dare not, interpret it.
"Take as long as you need, I'll be waiting outside."
Janes went to leave, but she held up her hand to stop him.
"Victor," she said, savouring his name finally, "when I came to this island, I was expecting no more than a beach holiday, hopefully with some sex thrown in, hopefully with you. I had fantasised about being your slave, but when I got here, I realised that I had no conception of what that meant. This has been the most intense, the most traumatic experience of my life. Have I enjoyed it? No, I hated it! But if it would please you, I'd do it all again, right now."
As she said this, she had a sudden urge to really do it all again - she could be so much better! She could please him so much more, make him so proud of her, impress his friends so much more! She yearned for the opportunity.
Trying to keep her emotions in check, Amanda walked over to the table and signed the papers in silence. She took the cuffs, hand-tooled in elegant leather, and locked them on her wrists and ankles. She picked up the collar, noting the monogrammed 'VJ', and returned to Janes.
"You had me at 'Hello', Victor. Now, as my last act as a free woman, I ask you to put your collar on me and make me your slave."
For the first time in many, many years, Janes felt his hands shaking as he locked the collar in place. Neither of them could keep the silly grins off their faces. He put his arms around her and they kissed for a long time.
"Now, you filthy little bitch," he growled, trying to keep a straight face, "get on that bed, I fancy me a piece at that sweet ass!"
Amanda jumped up on the covers, kneeling on all fours, with her arse presented to him. As she looked back at him over her shoulder, he could see the lust suffusing her face.