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Tuesday
  • Author - thepinkbishop  
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  • Site Rank - 1574 of 2622
  • Unique Views - 15113
  • Story Codes - F-f, consensual, non-consensual, reluctant, analplay, armbinder, bondage, fantasy, humiliation, ponyplay, public, sci-fi, spanking, tricked
  • Post Date - 7/29/2018
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Author's Note: This is a speculative fiction novel with some darker content set in the relatively near future. Some might call it dystopian but others might argue that the picture it paints is quite attractive to a BDSM audience. The story draws on the ideas of a number of mid to late twentieth century sci-fi authors including Philip K Dick and William Gibson. The title is a homage to Robert A Heinlein's sexy protagonist 'Friday' and the story is largely told in the first person by two submissive women who inhabit different worlds, though others contribute as the plot develops. In this respect I enjoy the style of Iain M Banks, developing characters and sub-plots in isolation and then gradually allowing different stories to collide.

If all this sounds a bit pretentious, I apologise; at the end of the day I love female bondage and submission and enjoy writing about it so, needless to say, there's a bit of John Norman in there too.

I hope you enjoy it.


Chapter 1

TIFFANY

'Come here !'

I am lying on my belly with my arms laced behind my back into a heavy black leather single sleeve. My breasts are bound and there are clamps on my nipples; my legs are folded, each of my ankles strapped to the thigh above it in a frog tie. There is a clamp on my clitoris that trails a heavy weight. A large ring gag held in place by a black leather head harness makes me drool.

I must go, of course. Mistress commands and Slave obeys.

Mistress has a delightful French accent, perhaps I should call her Madame but then what would I call Madame who guards this place ? Mistress, French mistress, sits on her stool smoking a cigarette in a long holder with her stockinged legs crossed and her back straight; her head up though she briefly lowers her gaze to me before she speaks. She is immaculate, her peachy complexion flawless, lips bright red, dark hair coiffed beneath a burgundy beret, long lashes framing dark eyes. Her blouse is sheer, creamy silk, her cleavage dark and inviting, leather skirt short, stockings seamed, suspenders dark against the pale flesh of her legs; her shoes, like her nails are blood red, patent leather with spiked stiletto heels.

I grovel towards her, pitiful and in pain, my tortured nipples burning, my bound breasts crushed, the weight on my clitoris seeming to catch with every movement.

'Fifi.' Mistress addresses her maid. 'She is too slow. Give her a dozen strokes.'

'Yes, Mistress.' Fifi curtsies. Like her mistress she has a French accent though it sounds affected. This goes with her French maid's outfit which comes complete with lacy apron and mob cap but is made of wet look pink latex. The neckline of her dress plunges so low it appears that Fifi's enormous cleavage will pop out at any moment and is so tight at the waist I am not sure she would be able to breathe. Even when I wasn't groveling on my belly it was clear that any time Fifi made the slightest movement her skirt rode up to reveal matching pink knickers. From where I am lying I do have a rather delightful view of her pert bottom and even the outline of her sex against the tight pink latex knickers. Fifi's stockings are white rubber and her heels are almost as high as Mistress'. Like me, Fifi is in bondage, though not as severe; her hands are chained in front of her body attached to a chain that is locked around her neck and runs down her front to a pair of shiny silver ankle cuffs.

Fifi totters forward and swings the tawse with which she has been punishing me. With her hands cuffed she cannot swing it hard but she is remarkable accurate and delivers a series of stinging blows to the soles of my feet this time instead of my buttocks.

With Fifi's encouragement I make slightly quicker progress though Mistress' irritation remains clear and by the time I reach her I have suffered another dozen strokes, this time to my buttocks.

I lie at Mistress' feet, the shiny red leather of her shoes is inches from my face and I long to worship them, caress them with my tongue, but to touch Mistress without permission would earn me a punishment far more severe than any I have endured thus far today.

'Roll over.'

Mistress commands and Slave struggles to obey; with my arms sheathed behind me and my legs folded up it is an effort that taxes me physically and puts pressure on my tortured breasts; however, I am not unused to being bound and a sub learns such tricks. Nevertheless, I am too slow for Mistress.

'Fifi.'

The tawse falls on my side and then my buttocks as I heave myself over in a creak of leather; at least my breasts are not longer crushed but the weight jerks my throbbing clitoris.

I lie breathing heavily. I am looking up at the sole of Mistress' shoe which hangs above me. It is a little too high for me to reach even were I permitted. Mistress leans forward and I watch as she flicks the ash of her cigarette over me, the flakes tumbling down onto my body. I recall the pain of previous encounters where she has extinguished the stub on my body, sometimes flicking it into my open mouth as a mark of her contempt.

I lift my head, watching the ash fall. I must be a pathetic sight looking up at her wide eyed over the strap of the head harness that crosses the bridge of my nose. I can see my breasts, tightly bound, the skin blue and shiny, my clamped nipples look like dark ripe cherries.

I lower my head looking back up at Mistress who is leaning forward slightly. From this angle she makes me feel so small. She slides forward on her stool, uncrossing her legs and lowering her foot, the heel of her shoe coming towards my open mouth. I glance up at Mistress and see her smile. I think this must be a sign that I may worship her and, as the spiked heel of her shoe passes through the ring of my gag, I lift my tongue to meet it, stroking the steel nail. The stiletto is smooth and I circle it with my tongue. Mistress pushes it in deeper towards the back of my mouth and I fold my tongue around it until her sole touches my lower lip. The tip of my tongue caresses the leather. I try hard not to gag.

Pleased, I hope, Mistress lifts her foot and then offers me the shiny red leather toe. I let my tongue glide over it and then lift my mouth to it, taking it within the ring of my gag to touch it with my lips.

Mistress smiles and flicks more ash over me.

'Very well, Slut. You have earned the right to worship me.'

Mistress leans back drawing on her cigarette, recrossing her long, slim, stocking clad legs and I begin the labourious task rolling back onto my belly. At least it will take the strain off my clit.

With another great effort, I land heavily on my tortured breasts and clamped nipples. Ignoring the pain I lift my head and squirm towards, Mistress. The distance is less than a foot but it takes me some time to reach her and, I think, she moves her foot back to make me grovel further. However, I finally reach the object of my desire and am rewarded with the opportunity to worship it, licking the leather with my tongue and touching it with my lips. I lick and kiss one side of her foot and then the other, rolling from one crushed breast to the other and then lift my head, straining against my tight bondage to lap at Mistress' other shoe.

After a few more moments she stands with her feet together and, naked, bound and helpless I am given the opportunity to grovel at my mistress' feet, my tongue gently caressing the shiny red leather of both her shoes.

I am panting hard, partly from exertion, partly from the pain in my breasts but mostly from lust. I squirm forward and run my tongue up one of the twin steel spikes that are her heels and, as I do so I press my sex firmly against the wooden floor.

'Do you wish to come, Slut ?'

'Uuuuuhhhhuuuu.' I nod, my tongue raking the steel of the stiletto.

'Very well, Slut. You may have your pathetic orgasm. Then it will be time for our afternoon walk. There is a new module in the punishment suit which I'm sure you'll enjoy.'

I feel a burning stab of pain as Mistress stoops to extinguish her cigarette on my buttock and then I come hard, bucking in my bonds, crying out through my gag.


SPARKLE

I crawl at Mistress' heels on my leash. I am naked save for the chains that keep me helpless and remind me of my submission. A short chain between my wrists clicks as I crawl on my hands and knees, another links my ankles making my movements small and rapid. Chains running from my wrist cuffs through my nipple rings are linked to my clitoral piercing to keep my movements careful. Similar chains from my ankles run through rings on my thigh cuffs to my nipple rings. Thus I am kept on my knees, docile. A chain from my clitoris and two more from my nipples to my nose ring force me to keep my head down, submissive.

Mistress stops in front of Silver who waits to be punished, the slave's lovely body spread, hanging, her wrists held wide, her ankles chained apart. Silver is gagged, a rubber coated bit gag locked between her teeth that makes her drool onto her small neat breasts.

Silver is my fellow pet. We are not sisters but many remark on how similar we are with our sleek, lithe bodies and pert breasts. We are both pierced: nasal septum, nipples, clitoris and labia and both wear gold-plated steel cuffs welded around our wrists, ankles and throats marking us out as the chattels of our mistress, safe under lock and key. Each cuff has a single ring that can be used to chain us; our piercings too are rings that can easily be used to intensify our bondage.

Silver looks down at me and I lift my head as much as my bondage allows; this close I think she can just about see me wink. As well as being my fellow pet, Silver is my lover and I know that tonight, if we are not too tightly restrained, I will be required to console her after her punishment. Such sisterly support will, of course, involve the use of my tongue and, if I am lucky and my bondage is not too strict, my fingers as well.

When one of us is punished which, in truth, is quite often, the other is usually kept more securely restrained explaining the intricacy of my current bondage. Our lovemaking during these times is usually somewhat laboured but extremely satisfying unless we have been really naughty when we are kept, sometimes for days at a time, in chastity restraints.


Mistress tells me to kneel and I drop back, placing my bottom on my heels, a position that allows me to lift my head a little more and steal a glance at my lover before bowing my head again to demonstrate my submission. I'm sure the movement has not gone unnoticed. Mistress does not miss such lapses. Perhaps, I hope that Mistress will punish us both, however, she appears to ignore me, focussing her attention on Silver.

She is beautiful, our flame haired mistress, with her pale skin and intense blue eyes. She is dressed today in an outfit composed of a bronze collar and belt supporting diaphanous blue silk bands that swirl around her lovely, toned body covering yet not concealing her large, firm breasts, her taut buttocks and firm thighs. When I allow my eyes to stray from the floor before me for a moment can see the dark pink of her big nipples only half covered by the silk and the little skirt that barely reaches the crease of her buttocks that is so fine I can see her thick bush of her pubic hair. She is a barbarian goddess and I am her conquered foe.

She is Countess Desire.

'Such a bad girl.' Mistress reaches out her hand and brushes Silver's cheek with her fingers. 'You know I have to punish you.' She sounds so sad, so disappointed.

We know Mistress loves us and dearly wish to obey her in all things but sometimes we just can't help ourselves.

Silver nods.

'And you know that punishment must be severe.'

Silver nods again.

Mistress' hand runs down Silver's taut, brazenly displayed body, her finger hooking in the helpless girl's left nipple ring and pulling at is gently. I see Silver's nipple swell in response to this treatment and cannot resist lifting my head to make the chain from my nose piercing lift my own nipple rings; I feel the pull on my clitoris too.

Mistress' hand slips lower and her finger hooks Silver's clit ring, pulling it more firmly.

I hear Silver whimper.

As part of the punishment we have been kept apart, Silver in chastity restraints at the foot of Mistress' bed where she can hear the intense pleasure Mistress and I have shared. Silver is thus, I know, in a state of sexual frustration.



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The punishment proper begins, the urticant wand. Mistress strokes it down Silver's helpless body following a route similar to that traced by her finger moments before. Unlike Mistress' finger, the wand leaves a fiery trail of red in its wake as the stinging venom is delivered into my lover's bare skin by the tiny spiked wheel in its head. Silver whimpers slightly as a tongue of flame erupts down the left hand side of her body. Mistress circles her slave's left breast and then draws a line of pain across its fellow taking in Silver's right nipple. The expression on my lover's face and the soft whimper through her gag testify to the wand's power.

It is not Silver's first time being punished like this and, I am certain, it will not be the last. I have felt the wand's touch too, endured it's fiery kiss and writhed helplessly as it has been applied to my naked skin. I shudder at the memory recalling it's burning touch on my nipples and the apparently endless throbbing left by its passing, eased only by Silver's soft kiss after I was finally released from my torment. I remember her lapping a mouthful of water then crawling to me, hands bound behind her back, as I lay chained to my cot and depositing a cooling kiss to my throbbing, aching nipples. It was only later I noticed the heavy weight hanging from her clamped nipples and the knee pads with their tiny spikes on which she had crawled to deliver succour to me.

Both Silver's breasts now shine, their skin stretched, swollen and red, where the venom has touched them. There are lines of fire across her belly and down to her loins. Mistress is moving in to Silver's inner thighs.


TIFFANY

I am standing on the tips of my toes, with my arms still laced tightly behind my back in the single sleeve. The harness holding my gag in place is chained to the ceiling above me and prevents me falling; I am very aware of the chin straps that pull my jaw hard against the steel ring gagging me and the strap just a little too tight around my throat. My breasts are still bound and the clamps still bite my nipples but the weight has been removed from my clit clamp.

Fifi begins with a corset, a heavy black rubber sheath that wraps around my waist settling on my hips and lifting my tortured breasts. She tightens the laces gently at first and then with increasing ferocity, until I feel like I am encased in iron. Breathing is a labour in itself and my waist is impossibly thin now like Fifi's but still Mistress inspects her maid's work, carefully checking the corset's tension before allowing her to move to the next step of my bondage.

Shoes are slipped onto my feet and laced in place; these are toe boots, spiked heeled with pointed toes so that I am forced to stand like a ballerina. At least they ease the strain from my neck and, at the moment, I cannot fall because of the gag harness. Fifi takes some time lacing up the thigh high boots which are so stiff that I will be forced to walk on my tiptoes with perfectly straight legs. When she has finished she hobbles my ankles though I am not sure this is strictly necessary.

Electrodes come next. Fifi sticks them to my buttocks, belly and breasts and then to the inside of my thighs above the boots and the side of my neck. I am about to be encased in sheer rubber and, though I know I will still be able to feel the whip, Mistress wishes to be able to punish me easily. There are wires that attach to my nipple and clit clamps too. Fifi gathers these and plugs them into the main distributor which she then lubricates and proceeds to push gently into my bottom.

Though I have come quite recently this treatment has maintained my arousal and I cannot help smiling as the pert little thing in her pink dress violates me so casually. The lead to the distributor hangs from my bottom like a tail along with wires for the dildo that is about to be forced inside me. I know the wires will connect to my leash as I am taken for my walk so that Mistress can punish her helpless sex toy with the squeeze of her hand.

The dildo requires no lubrication as I am still wet from my recent orgasm and my sex is becoming more slick as I submit to increasing bondage. The dildo and anal plug are held in place by a heavy crotch strap from the corset which Fifi buckles tightly between my legs; this puts delicious pressure on my sex and, as Fifi tightens it, slightly eases the pressure on my tightly bound breasts.

Next Fifi fits the bodice of the rubber dress I am to wear, buckling the high collar around my neck first and then fastening it down my body, compressing my throbbing breasts and smoothing it over my tiny corsetted waist; then she pulls its crotch strap tight. When Mistress is satisfied, Fifi inflates the garment and my body is squeezed further, the collar lifting my chin and the bust compressing my bound breasts while expanding hugely to make my chest appear enormous, particularly above my tiny waist. The dress has a skirt too, a tight hobble skirt that wraps around the thigh high toe boots further hampering my ability to walk. I know mistress will set a grueling pace for her little rubber sex toy and that I will be punished repeatedly for my slow progress, particularly if I should stumble or, perish the thought, fall.

My bondage is nearly complete. I am a helpless rubber sex toy, slave to my mistress and I am very wet.

The hood comes next, inflatable rubber, like my dress, that Fifi pulls over my gag harness lacing it tight around the chain holding me up and down the back of my head. It has a hole for my mouth to allow me to breath and to drool though my ring gag, a hole that can easily be filled with an inflatable gag or blocked to leave me gasping. The hood can be used to isolate me completely and I have spent many hours in tight bondage enjoying the sensory deprivation it enforces, deaf, blind, my mouth and nose plugged so that my only remaining sense, that of touch is left exquisitely enhanced, deliciously sensitive to both pleasure and pain. At that stage as I am teased and punished I become Mistress' sex toy, turned on and off at the touch of her control.

I feel the hood inflate, hear the hiss, feel the pressure against my ears then my nose and my cheeks, the top of my head. My head and body are now tightly compressed, my legs held straight on the stiff thigh boots, toes en-point. I am forced to stand upright, neck erect, my absurdly huge rubber breasts thrust out, waist so constricted it is almost as if I am being sliced in half. Fifi has removed the chain supporting my gag harness so that I am now dependent on my own sense of balance.

The pump gag is then inserted into my mouth and inflated. I can visualise the inflation pipe and bladder bobbing gently in front of my head.

I look and feel like the sex toy I yearn to be.

Finally I feel my collar being applied. This is a heavy leather stock, padded and ringed, it connects Mistress' control to the electrodes which she will use to play with her toy. It also links to sensors to that Mistress will know exactly how much pain and pleasure I am experiencing, exactly how aroused I feel.

I will suffer pain, I will experience pleasure. I will come if Mistress chooses and, if she chooses that I may not come, there is no chance of disobedience.


I follow Mistress, blind and obedient, as she leads me from the building. I am used to this route; I realised some time ago it was a different one to that by which I enter and since that discovery I sought to imprint it in my mind, measured in the tiny hobbled steps I am forced to take. As we descend the steps to the street Fifi holds my arms to prevent me from falling.

Mistress sets a fast pace, fast at least for one in my situation, and I struggle to keep up, encouraged by the tug on my collar and Fifi's whip across my rubber coated bottom; my ankles are hobbled and I can feel the rubber skirt stretch slightly as I totter along on the tips of my toes with my awkward straight-legged gait. Yet, each step has its rewards, the crotch strap teasing my sex and the dildo moving inside me. It is nearly an hour since I have come and in that time I have endured delicious and progressive bondage. I can feel pleasure rising inside me.

It is almost ten minutes, I think, until Mistress first deigns to play with her toy. I sharp jolt to my clamped, crushed nipples and poor clitoris brings me obediently to a stop and I stand gasping unsure how air is reaching my lungs.

The electrodes can deliver a variety of stimuli from intense pain to the tiniest current that feels like the gentle caress of a lover's finger. I feel a soft ripple across my thighs and up my belly onto my breasts, my nipples respond to this, throbbing gently with a mix of pleasure and pain. The sensation builds, feeling something like a cool breeze across my hot wet skin. Mistress leads me on and I follow, the tingling in my skin increasing until it is a hot rush of air and then the abrasive scurrying of tiny insects; then my flesh is crawling and I want to scratch it, tear at it, but I am bound and helpless and must endure. I writhe with a feeling that my flesh is being eaten, straining against the single sleeve, squirming, a slow dance of pain as I try to rub my burning thighs together, scratch my back with my bound arms.

I whimper through my gag. I feel I am about to fall over and part of me wants this so I can writhe on the ground to satisfy the intense itch in my skin.

Then it is gone and I am left gasping.

The vibrator starts along with a gentle buzz from the electrodes on my nipples and clitoris, a reward for my endurance.

My vision clears. Mistress can do this with a touch of her control, turning lenses in the hood clear so that I can see where I am and what I am.

There are others like me here in the neon lit streets of this bizarre district where fetish fantasies come alive. Women on leashes clipped to collars and harnesses, nipples, clit piercings; women in rubber, leather, PVC, some naked; some crawl on all fours, others walk, many hampered by restraints such as mine. I pass a blonde with huge breasts who follows a woman in a blue latex mini dress, the blonde has clamps on her nipples and the woman in blue leads her by these, she is strapped into a body harness, her arms sleeved like mine, an enormous red ball gag fills her mouth and she drools incessantly onto her huge chest, her saliva making the skin of her breasts glisten and shine in the tawdry light. Another girl, a slim brunette, wears something that looks like a pony harness and is lead by a bridle attached to a rubber coated bit between her teeth, it is clear from the way she walks that her rubber knickers hold a large dildo inside her and probably, like me, a butt plug too. The woman leading her wears jodhpurs and riding boots and a white blouse that is unbuttoned to the navel and shows off her small neat breasts with their delightfully dark brown nipples. A Goth in a long black leather coat leads a redhead whose leash is clipped to a nasal piercing; the redhead is naked aside from wrist and ankle cuffs. Another woman in a cat mask is lead by a collar, crawling one all fours, a tail bobs behind her held in place by a butt plug.

I see myself too reflected in the window of a sex shop in which a mannequin is cuffed to a diagonal cross. I am a bizarre caricature, with my smooth shiny rubber coated head, the bladder of the pump gag bobbing in front of it like a lapping tongue; my neck is thick and my pneumatic breasts huge; my torso shrinks to a waist that is truely an hourglass figure above the curve of my buttocks; my long legs taper inside the hobble skirt to the tiny points of my toes and spikes of the ballet heels; my arms wave uselessly behind my back. Fifi follows me in her shiny pink dress, tottering on her heels, tawse poised and ready to strike.

I can see Mistress too as she saunters gracefully on her heels, her bottom swaying deliciously, my eyes are drawn to the perfect buttocks wrapped tightly in her skirt and her long elegant legs where the seams of her stockings return my gaze to those shiny red shoes I love to worship.

Pleasure builds within me but I know I will not be permitted to come for a long time, Mistress will want to spend some time playing with her toy. I have much more pain to endure and more pleasure and I know that by the time Mistress permits my orgasm my mind will barely be able to differentiate the two sensations.


SPARKLE



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I hear Silver cry out through her gag and realise that mistress has returned to my fellow slave's nipples, teasing them mercilessly with the wand until they are two swollen nubs of pain, stretched well beyond their normal size even when Silver is aroused. I can see the tears welling above my lover's lashes about to spill over as she struggles to contain them. Her blue eyes are wide, shining, her gaze focussed though, when Mistress pauses Silver cannot help but look down at the burning decoration upon her skin. I try to smile, to offer her encouragement and I think I see a flicker of response then Mistress steps behind her and strokes the wand down my helpless lover's buttocks increasing her agony.

Silver whimpers and I watch the tears spill onto her cheeks.

Once, when we had been really naughty, Mistress lay us on our backs on benches side by side with our legs held up in the air and spread then applied the wand to our gaping unprotected sexes. Lying there with our sexes on fire we squirmed and pleaded through our gags, writhing without relief in our bonds for several hours before the pain finally subsided. We were permitted to console each other that night and found our sexes, not surprisingly, extremely sensitive. Lying side by side, each cuffed into a loose hogtie, we enjoyed the pleasure of our bodies reacting intensely to the tiniest stimulation. We climaxed multiple times that night, the venom, no doubt, still affecting the nerves of our poor tormented pussies. I remember us being completely exhausted the following morning.

I do not think Silver deserves such punishment today, though I know it would be very easy for Mistress to slide the rod between my lover's spread thighs, increasing her torment further, though, of course, it might provide an opportunity for me to offer succour more effectively tonight.

I watch Mistress sweep Silver's long mane of golden hair over her shoulder so she can apply the wand to her slave's back. I see the pain that Silver feels even at the brush of her own hair across her sensitised skin as it hangs over her left nipple.


TIFFANY

I follow Mistress on my leash, my body still tightly confined though now so sated with pleasure I wonder that any of the stimuli around me can excite me further. I have enjoyed multiple, intense orgasms at the hands of my mistress; I have endured much pain too. While I was brought to orgasm, my vision was again taken away from me so that all I had was the bondage and the pain which had itself become pleasure but, with my lust satisfied, my vision has been returned and with my mind less obsessed with the lust for sexual gratification I see my surroundings in a different light.

The tawdry neon signs still cast garish lights which still reflect off rubber bodices and steel cuffs, women still trail their mistresses obediently some tottering in bondage on ridiculous heels, others crawling. My body is still the same fetish golem.

Mistress is still there, of course, in front of me, her perfect bottom in the short tight skirt with the seams of her stockings running down her long shapely legs, her hips still swaying on the shiny red heels that I worshipped an age ago and Fifi still totters behind me ready to administer a stinging slap if, for a moment, I slow my pace.

I pass the blonde again, the one with the clamped nipples who drools round her red ball gag onto her huge breasts and the brunette pony girl. They are always here and, I know, will remain after I have gone, awaiting albeit unknowingly, my return. We pass the sex shop again and I wonder why, in this strange world its goods are not modeled by a living, moving woman.

Beyond the sex shop is a brothel, then a bar that advertises its hostesses in leather bikinis and heeled boots. Then comes the general store with the blonde proprietress in her white blouse and tight leather trousers. I recognise other familiar features too, the sex shop has become a clothing store whose goods seem to be largely made from rubber and then, a little further on a bondage shop selling cuffs and harnesses, chains and collars, whips and paddles. Further along it will display lacy red and black lingerie, stockings and waspies.

I follow mistress back into the brothel, Fifi helping me up the stairs that are just within the limits of my hobbled ankles and then I am back inside, a different pathway to that by which I left, a right turn where it should have been to the left.

I am a policewoman, I'm trained to notice these things.


SPARKLE

Silver's punishment is finally over, or perhaps, one should say, it is about to begin. Mistress hangs the urticant wand from Silver's right nipple ring, a reminder, should she need one, of the ease with which further suffering can easily be administered. Silver's beautiful body has been transformed into a distressing mass of swollen red flesh which will torment her for several hours before the effect subsides. I watch as Mistress blindfolds her, strapping a heavy leather strip across Silver's eyes; depriving her of one sense will, I know from experience, amplify the others so that, in this case there is almost nothing to distract her from the constant burning of her skin.

Then, with barely a second thought, Mistress take up my leash and leads me away leaving my slave lover hanging naked in helpless bondage, blindfolded and gagged, to endure her punishment and reflect on her sins.


We have been slaves for two years now. Pets, lovers, obedient to our mistress, and utterly submissive though not without occasional forays into disobedience that earn us these sort of punishments. Such naughtiness usually take the form of sexual encounters that have been prohibited to us, pleasuring each other when we should be doing our chores or reaching orgasm without permission from Mistress. Everyone knows slaves are not permitted to come without their mistress' permission but sometimes it's very hard being kept naked and in bondage next to a fellow slave who is also naked and in bondage, a slave who is so physically desirable and just as horny as you. Frankly, when I think about it, it is surprising we are not punished more than we are. Of course, Mistress could keep us in stricter bondage, but where would the fun be in that ?


As I have mentioned, we are a matching pair, Silver and I, at least as close to matching as two unrelated girls can be, with our lithe athletic bodies honed by our mistress' training, our small pert breasts and our long hair such a pale blonde it is almost silver. When we pull our mistress' chariot we attract many admiring glances from other women and, when we occasionally encounter them, from men.

Who would not, I wonder, turn to look at a pair of lithe blondes toiling in harness under the whip of a woman such as our mistress ? We are, I think, ideal specimens of female slavery, our bodies trained to physical perfection, strong, toned, supple and, mostly, utterly obedient.


Chapter 2

TUESDAY

Tuesday opened her eyes but saw only darkness. She fought a surge of panic, struggling for a moment before realising she was still hooded, still strapped to the chair, plugged and wired.

She always felt anxiety at this point, sitting blind and helpless, the oral plug, the 'gag' still in her mouth, the straps restraining her at the wrist and ankle, elbow and knee, upper arm and thigh, across her belly, her chest and her throat, aware of the electrodes on her body particularly clustered around her breasts and sex, the clips on her nipples and clitoris, the two other plugs, one in her vagina, the other in her anus.

Naked, her skin slick with sweat, she shivered waiting urgently for release, straining to hear the approach of the technician, her hearing blunted by the earphones wedged in by the hood. Something brushing the backs of her fingers made her start and then she felt a pressure under her chin, a pull as the strap there was loosened and then the oral plug, sour in her mouth, pulled out in a rush of saliva.

'Thanks.' She tried to sound casual, though naked and helpless, her body sexually replete from her time in the VR. She coughed and felt her collar being undone then the hood unzipped; then she blinked in the harsh glare of the immersion chamber with its concrete floors and steel struts.

It was the blonde technician, the small one with the scar through her lip leaving her with a permanent scowl; the girl's hair was greasy, tied back in a limp pony tail; Tuesday could smell her, unwashed for several days though she was aware that after her sexual antics in the sim she probably smelled just as ripe.

The girl left Tuesday restrained as she removed the electrodes from her body, peeling them off roughly, removing the clamps from her nipples with no warning.

Tuesday forced down an expletive. The girl was just doing her job albeit one in which she apparently took no pleasure. An hour ago Tuesday might have enjoyed such treatment, enjoyed the casual abuse of her body but she was spent now, spent and stiff and no longer safe in the virtual world. Pain here was real, her body would bruise and bleed, bones broke, death was final.

There would be bruises, of course, marks from the clamps on her nipples, light burns caused by the sensory electrodes, strap marks from her prolonged bondage, her confined body struggling in its computer enhanced dreams, dreams that did not leave the dreamer paralysed. She knew that in high end VR suites clients were given relaxants to ease their struggles and in some, one in particular, they were not needed at all, the join between virtual and reality was seamless and immediate.

Released from the chair, she stood unsteadily, fumbling to remove the belt with its crotch strap holding her vaginal and anal plugs in place but the technician knocked her shaking hands away and pulled it open, withdrawing the plugs with a casual action that left her standing naked and disconnected.

'Exit's over there.' The girl had removed her from the machine numerous times but still gave no sign of recognition, no acknowledgement.


SPARKLE

'Lover, are you there ?'

I lift my head. I am hooded, my wrists chained together behind my back, my ankles cuffed.

'Uhhhhhhuuu !' My jaws are held wide by a large ring gag sown into the hood through which I drool helplessly.

'Oh, my love ! You're gagged.'

'Uhhhu !' I can't help nodding even though I surmise Silver is still blindfolded even if her gag has been removed. With the hood in place I am no longer restricted in the amount I can lift my head though my nipple rings are clipped by a short chain to my clit piercing meaning that, if I straighten up, three of my most sensitive areas are stretched.

'Oh, Spark. Can you reach me ? Can you touch me.'

'Ohhhha ?'

I know her voice is in front of me and I start to crawl forward. I can feel the weight of my leash and know it is fastened to something ahead too though I suspect it is fixed less than half way to Silver and will thus be too short for me to reach her. The physical punishments our mistress administers are often severe, but the psychological ones can be much more intense. Imagine the pain you feel being separated from your lover and then imagine how much worse that pain becomes when you are so close to them that in ordinary circumstances you would be able to touch them, see them, taste them even, but you are kept apart, restrained, yearning, unfulfilled.

Crawling awkwardly in my bondage I creep forward then I feel my head brush against something firm yet yielding. I turn my head, lifting it, aware of the pull on my pierced nipples and clitoris. I push out my tongue. A hooded girl who is bound must use all her skills to explore her prison and it would not be the first time I had found something using just my tongue.

'Lover, is that you ?'

My tongue makes contact with warm flesh.

'Uhhhu !'

I can't help nodding and my tongue darts back out to rake itself over Silver's flesh.

'Oh, my love. That feels so good.'

Cautiously, I kneel up, tracing my tongue across her skin. Whichever part of her I can feel slopes up above me and, thinking how she was chained before, I think it must me her thigh. A little higher and I might be able to reach her sex.



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My heart leaps and I tip my head back, pushing my tongue out further and stretching up ignoring the pain in my nipples and clit. As I rise off my heels I am reminded that my labial piercings are chained to my ankle cuffs and to reach higher I will have to strain against them or perhaps risk going up to balance on my knees.

At that moment I feel Silver squirm in response to my touch and hear her give a low moan. Some of her skin feels hot and rough against my tongue, the swelling from the venom still present, I imagine the way my touch makes her sensitised body tingle. The rest of her skin is cool from where she has hung naked for many hours and there is a tang of salt where sweat has dried on her skin. My tongue touches metal and I know it is Silver's thigh cuff.

Sensing her respond to my touch makes me bold and, almost without thought, I push up to balance momentarily on my knees. My balance is good but I am chained and hooded, with my hands bound I have to use my shoulder against her thigh to stabilise myself and feel her move under my weight. I fight to maintain balance the pain in my nipples and clitoris now taking second place to the cramps in the back of my thighs brought on by the need to keep my heels up to protect my pierced labia. I wobble briefly but do not fall. I reaslise I am breathing hard through the ring gag from the exertion or perhaps because I was holding my breath as I concentrated on my balance.

I can feel something against my cheek through the leather of the hood and turn my face, exploring again with my tongue. I taste metal, feel a chain. I am sure it is my leash. I push my tongue forward and encounter flesh.

Silver gasps.

I probe again, feel more metal, a ring; a familiar taste creeps across my tongue.

My collar is chained by my leash to Silver's clitoral piercing.

The thought thrills me, a dizziness that almost makes me fall. My knees hurt and my hamstrings are screaming for relief, I am intensely aware of the strain on my nipples and clitoris.

I push out my tongue again, easing it through Silver's clit ring as I have done many times before and then curl it gently teasing her. I am rewarded with a little cry of pleasure and, as I gently tease her, with clear evidence of her arousal. Under my touch her clitoris swells and I can taste her slickness, feel it with my tongue. I push past the ring seeking her labia, feel the rings that pierce them, the rings that can, when she is being punished by locked closed to prevent access to her vagina. These are the rings that on me are currently chained to my ankle cuffs forcing my to balance on my knees. I seek each ring with my tongue and tease the flesh between them.

Silver moans again and I sense her tense in her bonds, lifting her weight slightly with her arms pulling against the ankle chains that spread her legs so flagrantly.

I know she is near orgasm. If I make her come she will be punished and so will I. Tomorrow may see our roles reversed or the start of some other punishment, possibly physical but perhaps more, perhaps a period where we are kept apart, denied sex for days, even weeks, tormented by lust.

We will, of course, only be punished if Mistress finds out.


TUESDAY

Tuesday looked at herself in the mirror. It was about fourteen hours since the end of her VR session and her body had recovered a little though she still felt tired, spent, despite a bath and a long sleep. Her eyes looks tired and there were dark shadows underneath them that she had concealed partly with careful use of make-up. Policewomen didn't wear make-up on duty but they were also supposed to inspire confidence in the public they served, not look as if they'd been out all night partying. Judicious use of lip-gloss had covered the marks around her mouth caused by the oral plug.

Aside from this she looked fine, the tight kevlar-reinforced bodysuit hugging her slim form and hiding any bruises caused by the VR chair's restraining straps. When she wasn't trying to hide her simulated indulgence she liked the way the a suit gave her slim athletic body a more muscular shape and provided reassuring protection, as much as was possible in the real; liked the way surface glinted in the light as it stretched over her shoulders, small breasts and tight bottom.

She pulled her blonde hair back, trapping it in a tight ponytail and then went into the bedroom. Her utility belt and helmet lay in the bed along with her nightstick. She buckled it around her slim waist and then pulled on her helmet locking the chin-strap then picked up her weapon. Then she opened the wall safe and pulled out her gun checking the clip and action before strapping it to her thigh.


SPARKLE

Silver is being punished again and, in some way, so am I. Silver has been a bad girl; she is usually the instigator, and Mistress is making her contrite by denial. I am part of that punishment and, knowing this, is my own penance, although, of course, this is because I am partly to blame. Silver has worn the chastity belt for a week now and, when chained at night the chastity bra is usually added to her bondage; this consists of two steel cones that are held in place by chains, the purpose of which is to prevent any erotic contact with Silver's highly sensitive nipples.

Poor Silver must be desperate by now, I know I would be; I certainly have been these past few nights having had to amuse myself to satisfy my slave lust as best I can when it has not been eased by intimate relations with Mistress or any of the other women to who I am sometimes given. My role is, of course, in all these encounters to pleasure my mistress, whomever she may be, and although this almost invariably leads to my own arousal (I can't imagine that a girl would not be sexually excited by being held in bondage and forced to pleasure another) such intercourse does not always end in my own climax. It is the lot of the pleasure slave that sometimes she is left chained and hooded at the foot of her mistress' bed squirming in sexual frustration while the woman she has just pleasured sleeps above her utterly satisfied and without any thought for the needs of the pet who has just served her mistress so well.

Some mistresses, of course, use this approach to keep their pets attentive and there are numerous restraints designed to hold a girl so that she can be used for pleasure by another but in no way satisfy her self. Slaves treated this way sometimes beg pitifully for orgasm, promising all kinds of perverted pleasures to anyone who will touch them intimately and relieve their suffering.

Mistress is not so cruel and, I think, loves us both though she must, of course, maintain order and a slave who is not regularly punished will soon become lazy. So it is that I am riding the sybian, a mechanical device that looks a little like a saddle designed to give pleasure to the girl who sits astride it. This is not perhaps what most would consider a punishment, but then, I am not the one being punished, not directly at least. I am, of course, tightly restrained and I have no control over what the sybian does to me though this is hardly a punishment for a sex slave.

My arms are restrained tightly behind my back in a single sleeve laced over my arm cuffs, more intense than the chains in which I am typically restrained; the tip of the sleeve is locked to the back of the saddle; my legs are bent at the knee, my ankle cuffs also locked by chains to the back of the saddle so that all of my weight is taken by my spread thighs and my sex. The saddle is ridged, a vibrating bar pressing insistently against my sex; I am penetrated too, a large dildo deep inside me, stretching my labia; the dildo is slightly conical so that as my weight forces me down onto it I am stretched further; by squirming and pressing my thighs together I can ease the intensity of these stimuli on my sex but a steel belt locked around my waist and chained to the front of the saddle prevents me from escaping their full power over me for long. A short chain from the front of the saddle to my pierced clit exerts a similar control and as the saddle vibrates this teases my clit mercilessly. As if this is not enough for a slave girl to bear, a butt plug is also locked inside me, this is large enough that I am very aware of it stretching me and, when the vibrator runs at full power, it too moves increasing the intensity of the stimulation in my loins.

More stimulation comes from nipple clamps, not heavy, toothed punishing ones but light ones that pinch and gently tease, weights hang from them, weights that are also clipped to my nipple piercings, not heavy ones but enough to make their presence felt so that, with every move my nipples are tweaked and jerked adding to the intensity of my arousal.

I am gagged too, of course, it wouldn't do to have my cries of pleasure disturb the rest of the palace; a heavy leather muzzle covers the lower half of my face and holds a large expandable plug between my teeth that stretches my jaw painfully.

I have climaxed multiple times already; I am a sex slave, a pleasure toy, a pet, trained to please intimately and respond sexually; and this is my punishment. As the sybian moves, twisting and rolling, bucking gently, vibrating, delivering it's delicious torment I know that Silver is watching me and sometimes I see her, see the envy and the frustration in her eyes.

Poor Silver is as conditioned as I am, a slave like me to mistress lust as well as Mistress Desire.

We are in the audience chamber of Chateau Flame where she, Mistress, that is, Countess Desire, is entertaining several high ranking guests from elsewhere in Erolia. These women sit around her on silken cushions enjoying the food and wine that my beloved Silver serves them. My fellow pet is beautiful in her polished cuffs, the lights of the room shining off them glinting like it does off her nipple rings and her nose ring, and off the chastity belt that is locked to her delicious body. Silver's wrists are chained together in front of her body, her ankles too are chained. She wears a gag, a steel bar locked in her mouth like a bit. Here in Mistress' chambers she is under close scrutiny and cannot attempt to play with herself though from the way she is walking, the tension in her body as she moves, the looks she gives me when I cry out with lust through my gag I know how horny she is.

I know that when she leaves the chamber, steel balls will be locked around her hands and her chastity bra will be replaced so that her state of denial is maintained. We will, no doubt, be chained apart again later so that I cannot offer her any pleasure although, in truth, I suspect that when I am finally released from the sybian I will be utterly exhausted, barely able to stand, certainly of little use to a girl requiring the undivided attention of a pleasure slave.

Perhaps, as I recover, Mistress will call for Silver and release her from her torment; Mistress has needs too although, of course, she could enjoy Silver's caresses while ensuring her poor slave remains chaste.

The sybian moves again and I gasp. Silver looks up as do a few of the guests, taking in the view of this gorgeous and rare blonde slave utterly subject to her mistress' control. My eyes meet Silver's and I see the need in them and long to express my desire to satisfy it. Then the sybian bucks again and turns, the speed and intensity of the vibrator increasing, the weights on my nipples swing and I am, once again, swept away by lust, climaxing hard and panting around my gag.


TUESDAY

'Spread 'em !' Tuesday forced herself to stay upright, hands on hips, radiating confidence and command even though her chest was heaving from the chase. The girl looked up at her from where she crouched, cornered in the semi-darkness of the alley. She was pretty, blonde, soft cheeks and full lips, sparkling blue eyes not unlike Tuesday and clearly from this part of the city. She was a rich kid playing games not a hardened criminal though tonight she had been caught red-handed and would face the justice Tuesday served.

Tuesday watched the girl stand and turn to face the wall spreading her arms above her head and legs wide. She was wearing a black latex catsuit that hugged her firm young body showing the smooth curve of her buttocks, the wide spacing of her hips.

'How old are you ?' Tuesday began to pat her down though there was nowhere to conceal a weapon in the skin tight latex.



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'Old enough.'

The girl was at least nineteen and Tuesday snapped a cuff on the girl's right wrist, pulling the arm down and then locking it to its fellow behind her back, the noise of the ratchets clicking sending a shudder through her body. The girl still held her swag, the little velvet jewelry bag containing her haul. Satisfied for the moment she had control of the situation Tuesday took the bag and opened it, shaking its sparkling contents into her gloved hand. There had been a spate of burglaries in the neighbourhood, jewel thefts and her sources told her it was rich kids out for kicks, showing their nerve and their skill by jamming alarms, scaling walls, cracking safes with gadgets they bought with their parents credit accounts.

Getting caught was part of the thrill.

She spun the girl round and pulled off her mask. The young blonde's cheeks were flushed from the exertion and the excitement, her eyes shining, the thin rubber of her suit did little to hide her erect nipples.

'Gonna book me ?' She smiled like an addict knowing her fix was coming.

'Oh, yes.' Tuesday pulled the custody collar from her belt and locked it around the girl's neck then called for back-up.


SPARKLE

It is my turn to be punished. It is not that we take turns but I think Mistress keeps a mental tally so that neither Silver nor I are punished excessively. Also, I think, there is sometimes doubt as to which of us has truely been the instigator of the act requiring punishment and, rather than have both her slaves unavailable, Mistress sometimes chooses to punish one or other of us. If I am honest, I would have to say that Silver tends to be more sinful than me but to be truthful, on this occasion it was me who had been naughty instituting a bout of sex with Silver when we were supposed to be cleaning Mistress' boots. I was on top when Mistress found us diligently applying my tongue to Silver's sex when I should have been using it on Mistress' left boot. In my defense I would point out that Silver, underneath me, was pleasuring me with the same degree of diligence with which hitherto she had been addressing Mistress' right boot.

I am restrained in an intense hogtie, suspended by a heavy leather training corset around my waist to which are attached two ropes that support my weight; such devices are used to train pets in gymnastic manouvres. I lie on my back; my arms pulled behind me tied to the floor and my ankles pulled underneath me so they reach beneath my shoulder blades; this pulls my body into a delicious bow almost, in fact, a half circle. Pleasure slaves must be flexible to better please their mistresses (and occasionally, masters) and we spend a good deal of time in our training stretching to allow us to reach extreme erotic positions and to endure prolonged and intense bondage. Most of this training is, of course, carried out in bondage; and I recall being restrained for hours at a time during my training in positions such as this. Such sessions are often combined with periods of intense sexual stimulation (and sometimes frustration) designed to ensure we continue to regard our bondage as a source of sexual pleasure.

At the moment, however, there is no pleasure; well, not much anyway. I am hooded, a rope from the heavy leather hood I wear pulling my head back, increasing the intensity of my bondage. The position is extreme and, I suspect, where I come from only a gymnast or athlete would be able to endure it for any length of time, and probably not for as long as I am now able.

The bondage is not my only punishment, there are cords clipped to my nipple and clit rings attached to what must be some sort of counterweight system over a pulley; as my punishment progresses these weights increase, only a little at a time but gradually my poor nipples and clit are being increasingly stretched.

My punishment is taking place in Mistress' gymnasium and as I hang, helpless in my bondage, giving the occasional small cry when the weights on my nipples and clit jerk painfully as they are increased, I can hear Silver being exercised. My fellow slave is, no doubt currently on the lunge rein, probably clipped to her left nipple ring although she may be bridled today; her wrist cuffs probably strapped to a small training corset to keep her hands away from her bottom so that Mistress' groom, Madam Equa, can strike the slave's bottom easily with the long whip she is, no doubt wielding. If Madam Equa is displeased with her, Silver's elbows will be drawn tightly behind her back making her little breasts jut our beautifully; I think Madam Equa enjoys treating the pets she trains as pony girls like this; she is a woman who clearly gains much pleasure seeing and touching other girl's breasts, especially playing with their nipples. Madam Equa's own slave has the biggest breasts I have ever seen in this world, where such modifications are possible more easily.

I can hear Silver high trotting, the pad of her sprung steel shoes wrapped in cloth today to protect the wooden floor on which she is drilled. I can envisage her lifting her knees as she runs, the touch of Madam Equa's whip under her thighs when she does not lift her knees high enough. I think she has been doing this for sometime now, perhaps forty or fifty minutes, though it is difficult for a hooded sex slave hanging in punishing bondage to be certain. I suspect Sliver is quite flushed, from the prolonged warm up trotting under the whip and the leg exercises she will already have performed; I can hear the rhythm of my lover's steps change occasionally, faltering, each deviation no doubt earning her a red stripe on her bottom or thigh and sometimes think I can even hear the swish of the whip and slap of the leather on Silver's bare flesh.

I wish I was there with her. It is not that I mind being punished. Pleasure slaves are trained to enjoy bondage and some degree of punishment though currently I can feel my body reaching its natural limits, particularly my poor tortured clitoris which feels like it is holding up half the world at the moment. I am sure Silver has at least another hour of training ahead of her which means my punishment will last at as least as long.


TUESDAY

'Ready ?' Tuesday mouthed the word silently but all eyes were on her; her team nodded in unison.

Tuesday in turn nodded to Major Black the operation commander.

The light turned green and they moved as one.

The door splintered open and she rushed through, the team flooding in behind her spreading like water through a breach.

There were two figures in the long hallway, and Tuesday leveled her weapon but both were restrained and she moved past them trying not to be distracted by their presence.

They were both woman and both were naked, clearly undergoing some sort of punishment; chained with their wrists held in the small of their backs, a short chain from their collars lifting their hands away from their buttocks, the position forced their breasts out and both girls had their nipples clamped by a pair of steel rods that were fastened to the wall keeping them up on their toes; they had cuffs on their ankles too and both were gagged.

As Tuesday sped past both girl's whimpered but she ignored their cries and took the stairs to her right climbing quickly away from the noise below. There was another hallway at the top which was deserted as she entered but then a man emerged through a doorway on the right hand side; he was half naked, wearing just a shirt; his cock with still stiff, it's tip glistening and wet; he held a shotgun and when he saw Tuesday lifted it aiming to fire.

'Come to join us, blondie ?' His finger curled around the trigger.

Tuesday fired and the man's head snapped back, the bullet entering his skill but not leaving.

A door to her left opened and a woman emerged. She was dressed as a dominatrix in a black leather bustier and skirt with spike heeled boots. When she saw Tuesday she lashed out with her whip but Tuesday caught it and leveled her weapon. The woman rasied her hands.

'Get down.'

The woman obeyed and Tuesday cuffed her wrists then bound her booted ankles with the whip before moving on.

She stepped over the dead man glancing into the room from which her had just emerged as she passed. There was a woman inside kneeling bent over some sort of frame; her wrists were cuffed, held by short wires to the dais on which she knelt; a heavy leather strap pinned her neck to a scaffolding pole; while similar straps around her ankles and the backs of her calves held her on her knees; a large rectal hook lifted her bottom which had clearly been beaten with the cane that lay by her feet; she had large breasts which were tightly bound turning the skin blue and heavy weights hung by wires from her swollen nipples; though she could move her hands to ease the pressure of her throat on the bar to which her neck was strapped, the wires on her wrists were not long enough to allow her fingers to reach her tortured breasts; she looked at Tuesday with tearful eyes over the large ring gag that stretched her mouth; her face was covered in semen.

Tuesday heard her whimper but knew she had to move on.

At the end of the corridor was the room she was after and even as she ran towards it the door opened and a woman emerged. She carried a light pistol. Tuesday fired even as the woman began to raise it and the woman slumped back.

'Upper floor, end of the corridor.' Tuesday no longer needed to maintain radio silence. 'I'm going in.'

There were three of them in there, two men and a woman, lying on couches, their minds and bodies wired to terminals connecting them to the virtual.

They were not threat, not in their current state.

The woman with the pistol looked up at her weakly and then her eyes glazed. Tuesday crouched checking that the woman's pulse had gone even as her eyes scanned the room.

Kara came in behind her, the brunette was armed with an assault rifle that had clearly been fired more than once.

'All accounted for, Lieutenant.'

'Thank you, Stern.' Tuesday stood.

'Looks like we got ourselves three live ones.' Kara shouldered her weapon and walked towards the nearest Reiver; the woman; she lay naked on her couch, arms and legs lightly strapped down, her skin decorated with the interface electrodes that brought the sensations of the virtual to her real body; behind her closed lids her eyes flickered from side to side and every few seconds she twitched slightly.

Stern ran a gloved hand over the woman's body as if trying to confirm that she was real.

'Do you ever wonder what it's like ?' Stern looked at her Lieutenant. 'Inside, I mean ?'


Chapter 3

SPARKLE

Silver's training is over. I have heard no footsteps for at least a few minutes and I can visualise Madam Equa rewarding her charge for her diligent work, her hands on Silver's little breasts, dark flesh against Silver's pale skin, her finger probably through the little golden ring that pierces Silver's nipple, pulling it gently as she strokes the soft flesh of her breast. Silver will, no doubt be on her knees shortly thanking, in that way we sex toys do so well, Madam Equa for her lesson.

I wait, hooded and helpless, for release.

Finally, I feel someone undoing my gag then pulling the large steel ball with its leather covering from my mouth. I am grateful to be able to move my jaw again though would dearly love the pain in my nipples and clit to stop and to be released from this strenuous position.

However, I know what is coming and push out my tongue; a moment later I taste Madam Equa, hot from her exertions. She has unlaced the leather knickers she wears when training and is presenting her sex for the attention of my tongue and lips. I wonder briefly that Silver has not satisfied her but it is not unheard of after training for her to demand pleasure from both of us. More usually she will use one of us part way through the session, usually while the other continues to train so that she has the duel pleasure of enjoying an attentive tongue while watching a lithe blonde pony girl perform under the whip.

Madam Equa's sex is already wet from Silver's ministrations and I think I can taste my lover along with the woman's own scent and the tang of leather.

Pleasuring Madam Equa is difficult suspended on my back and hooded, my body drawn into such a tight arc. I am further distracted because contact with the groom that is making me swing in my bonds increasing the stretch on my tortured nipple and clitoris. However, the obedient sex slave that I am, I must serve or be further punished. I know too that Silver will be watching me; she no doubt standing beside Madam Equa, still restrained and probably bridled as the groom toys with her nipples and their delicious piercings.



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As Madam Equa approaches orgasm she release the clips from my hood to allow my tongue better access to her sex and her hands hold my head, guiding my tongue as it probes and teases so that at the point of orgasm my lips are pressed against her labia and my tongue deep inside her. I feel her muscles spasm and relax, continuing to tease her until I know she is fully satisfied then, as she relaxes I slip my tongue back into my mouth. As she steps away, I feel her stroke my lips with her finger and tell me I am a good girl. I hope that I have satisfied her and that she will release me but then I am commanded to open my mouth and I obey. The gag is replaced and the clip to my hood is once again attached so that my body is once again curved into a beautiful arc. I do not complain, a pleasure slave is subject to the whim and discipline of her mistress and any that have the right to use her, particularly someone held in high regard by Mistress Desire like Madam Equa. Despite this I can't help but whimper as my gag is tightened and I swing helplessly; my nipples and clit are throbbing painfully.

Then I am left alone.


TUESDAY

'A Reiver cell was destroyed today by state police.'

Tuesday looked up at the screen above her head showing archive footage of a previous raid.

'It's understood that two Reivers were killed and three captured. A number of captives were freed. Martin, can you tell us more ?'

The screen changed to a reporter standing by a police cordon; Tuesday could see dark figures moving behind while above them, outlined against the sky, she recognised the district where the raid had taken place.

'Yes, Jane, another successful day for law and order. It's understood this Reiver cell was inside Utolia though, as yet, we don't know exactly which VRE.'

'And do we have any idea what were they doing there ?'

'Disrupting as usual. The Reivers might be a relatively new group but their philosophy, their credo, if you like, is as old as what we used to call the internet. Where once we had hackers and trolls we now have Reivers. The whole point about VREs is that they are safe; citizens can go there and live out their fantasies then come back to the real and carry on with their lives. The Reivers want to spoil that.'

'Is there any evidence that they succeeded ?'

'VirCo are being very tight lipped about the whole thing. It's embarrassing enough for them that the Reivers got through their security for a second time this month so I'm guessing they won't be very forthcoming on that front, they'll want to reassure users that their VREs are safe.'

'The famous Virco Guardians dropped the ball again.'

'The Guardians, of course, can only protect the designated portals. There is some suggestion that the Reivers have a way to punch directly into the virtual world.'

'Can you tell us anything about the captives who were freed ?'

'We don't have specific details but, the Reivers have a do as you please attitude on both sides of the VR divide which is, of course, where they take their name from, the border reivers who raided across the marches in two historical kingdoms. We all know why most people use VREs.' Martin smiled. 'The same reason they used the internet: for sex. The Reivers particularly seem to target worlds where S&M has a major role like Subtown and, of course Dominia and Erolia in Utolia. They also argue, somewhat perversely, that if you act out your fantasies in the virtual, you should try them out in the real too.'

'And these captives were users of these VREs.'

'We don't know at this stage but Subtown is a WIWO site and it's not hard to see how they might ambush somebody as they walked in or, probably, walked out. They wouldn't even have to go to an official portal, as we all know there are dozens on unlicensed portals with almost no regulation. The Utolia lands are, of course, residentials but you will recall a Reiver raid in the real two months ago on VirCo's western hub. The official line was that the raid was unsuccessful but there were unconfirmed rumours that a number of users were removed from the site.'

Tuesday swallowed the last of her drink and left the bar.


SPARKLE

I don't know how long I have hung in bondage for but I think it is three or four hours. My body aches: my spine from the intense curve into which it has been forced and my limbs from the strain of their bondage. Mercifully, perhaps as a reward for my diligent service, Mistress Equa switched off the mechanism that increased the weights on my clit and nipples. Finally I hear footsteps on the wooden floor that sound like the tap of heels, probably toe boots. I suspect Mistress Equa has sent her big breasted pet Nipples to release me and take me to my cage. It is not unusual for her to order Nipples to cage or stable us and, often when she does this, she showers us too. This is something the big breasted slave seems to enjoy and, on these occasions, frequently takes advantage of us as we enjoy her care helpless in our chains.

Nipples has been here far longer than Silver and I and is considered a more senior slave. She is sometimes assigned to punish is too and can be quite inventive when she does this, enjoying placing us in predicament bondage where one of us can ease our suffering at the expense of the other. Often we are hooded at these times and can only find out the extent of our predicament by the gagged whimpers of the other.

I feel flesh touch the right side of my chest and fingers fumbling with the clip holding the weight to my nipple ring. I whimper as the weight is finally removed and feel fingers gently stroke my poor nipple. It is clear that whoever is releasing me is in bondage too and I think of Nipples restrained with her hands at her sides and her elbows pulled back. It is certainly how Madam Equa likes to display her, forcing out the brunette's enormous breasts.

There are more footsteps, clearly hobbled steps and, definitely, toe boots; then a pressure against my left breast as the weight is released. I am more prepared this time and bite down on my gag as my poor tortured nipple is unclipped. This time a tongue comforts it, a tongue which, judging by the lips that surround it pokes through a ring gag.

Nipples spends a lot of her time ring gagged; Madam Equa enjoys the sight of her drooling helplessly on her huge tits.

Freeing my clit proves more difficult for my restrained saviour and I cry out as, inadvertently, I am made to swing, jerking my poor clit sharply. Whoever is there tries several times before she succeeds in getting her fingers to the clip holding the weight onto my clit ring and I imagine Nipples trying to manoeuvre her huge breasts past the cord clipped to my clit ring without disturbing it and she shuffles close enough, her fingers straining to reach the clip. Finally, however, she manages to remove the weight, something which make me cry out sharply through my gag.

It is difficult for a girl wearing a ring gag to say 'Shhhhh' but the gagged grunt reaching me through the hood certainly seems to be an exhortation to be quiet and is accompanied by a spray of saliva over my belly.

That's when I realise this is not Nipples but Silver !

I struggle frantically in my bonds though this is completely pointless.

There is no way Silver has been sent to release me. Neither Mistress nor Madam Equa, nor indeed anyone in the palace would countenance such a thing; we as such lascivious sluts that we are always kept restrained when together and usually when apart to stop us playing with ourselves.

Silver is doing this to me, no doubt without any authority and I know we will be punished. I tell her to stop through my gag and squirm again pulling on the ropes holding my arms and legs but only succeed in curving my spine further than it already is; then I feel Silver's tongue on my pussy.

We have been kept apart since yesterday, it is at least fourteen hours since I have had an orgasm, this is a very long time for a pleasure slave; I have also just endured a prolonged punishment and been forced to tongue my trainer.

I want to be a good girl but I just can't.


TUESDAY

Tuesday checked behind her and then turned quickly into the alley. She was dressed for the lower south side, dark coat and combats, walking slightly hunched with her hands in her pockets, blonde hair tousled.

She walked down the alley, the click of her heels echoing off the crumbling brickwork and her heart thumping in her chest as it always did at these times but her desire overcame her caution.

She turned left into the quiet street and slid into the doorway.

'Tiffany !'

Tuesday smiled. Here she was Tiffany though not the Tiffany she would soon become if she chose that particular sim.

'What's it gonna be ?' Pulse smiled, crooked teeth splitting his dark face. 'I have a couple new ones you might like.'

Tuesday/Tiffany faced him square on. 'Such as... ?'

Pulse picked up a glossy box from the counter. 'The Perils of Lady Caroline.' He turned the box over revealing an image of a naked blonde in a pony harness pulling a gig being driven by a man wearing jodhpurs and a riding jacket. He began to read from the synopsis. 'Aristocratic Lady Caroline is sent to stay with her aunt at Ropingham Hall when the family fall on hard times. Here she is quickly taken advantage of by Sir Ralph, the black sheep of the family, who puts her to work in the stables where she finds the grooms take care of a special type of pony. Caroline is familiar with the equestrian world but not from the point of view of the pony. Before long she is bridled and harnessed and confined to the stables where she undergoes rigorous training as a pony girl...'

Tiffany shrugged. 'Maybe. I'm not sure I'm into solo adventures.'

'I'll do you a good price.' Pulse grinned lasciviously. 'Favour for a good client.'

Tiffany frowned, unwilling to commit to a solo booth. 'Too much preamble...'

'What about Star Girl in Bondage ?' Pulse read again. 'Loretta is a Star Freighter Captain until she is captured by alien pirates. Kept in chains Loretta is forced to obey the whim of her captors. Deep in space there is no escape but despite this she is kept in constant and intense bondage, forced to satisfy her captor's sadistic fantasies with no hope of escape.'

'Sounds better.' Tiffany took the box. The picture showed a brunette with large breasts strapped into a steel frame in what appeared to be the interior of a space ship; two green skinned but otherwise very humanoid female aliens were punishing her with whips while she was forced to pleasure a third with her tongue.

To be fair to him, Pulse had a pretty good idea of what she was into.

'I'd say Loretta looks a bit like the real Tiffany.' Pulse leered at the picture.

'I don't know what you mean Pulse.'

'Sure you do.'

He was right, Tiffany, VR Tiffany, was a large breasted brunette and seeing the fate of Loretta was making Tiffany's desire to slip into her avatar body more urgent.

'Anything else ?' Tiffany ran her finger over the image of Loretta's helpless form weighing up her desires.

'Subtown wearing a bit thin ?'

Tiffany sighed. 'Maybe.'

'You could always do it with another punter.'

Tiffany stiffened. 'What are you suggesting, Pulse ?'

'New upgrade for Subtown. 'Lets avatars interact in a meaningful and satisfying way'.' Pulse quoted from memory, then his face formed a genuine smile. 'Be almost like Utolia but at a fraction of the cost.'

'Yeah, I bet.' Tiffany sounded doubtful. 'Still, interaction with no strings...'

'In a bondage suite ! No strings.' Pulse laughed. 'You kill me sometimes, Tiff.'

'Funny, Pulse, just give me the Subtown key.'

'You know, I read that in Utolia they're all punters, no AIs, 'cept the security protocols, of course.'

'Yeah, Pulse, like I've got a gazillion dollars and can drop out of reality with nothing to worry about. Come on, give me a key.'



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'Show me your money, pretty girl.'

Tiffany produced a roll of notes and put them on the counter; pulse picked them up counting them carefully, holding anything over five dollars up to the dim working light beside him on the counter. Then he handed over the key.

'The real encounter is a standard plug in. You should give it a try.'

'Maybe.'

'Mind if I watch ?'

'Fuck off, Pulse.'


TIFFANY

I am Tiffany again, not the pseudonym I give the shady proprietor of the sleazy VR emporium, but the real Tiffany, the busty brunette who lives within me, surfacing regularly to slake her thirst for carnal encounters. Tiffany with her straight chestnut hair, her wide blue eyes and her big voluptuous lips. I watch her smile and realise that I am once again her and she, me. I love having breasts this large and can't help lifting my hands to play with them. They are imprisoned in a red rubber bustier which stretches thinly across them, shiny, slightly translucent so that I can see the dark areoles of her...my, large brown nipples where it bulges over them.

Tiffany is more muscular than Tuesday and her shoulders are broader in keeping with her large chest; her waist almost as narrow as Tuesday's, her hips flare and her bottom is round and firm, displayed perfectly in the shiny red rubber of her knickers. Her stockings have red latex tops that are suspended from the matching belt and her ankle boots have five inch heels.

I look gorgeous and turn admiring myself in the mirrors of the entrance suite.

The 'suite' is like the foyer of one of the theatres in lower south side, sleazy and dim. Screens on the wall alongside the mirrors show samples of the programme running beyond, a redhead tied to a bed writhing as hot wax is dripped onto her breasts, a dark-skinned dominatrix punishing the posterior of a blonde girl bent over in a pillory; in the street the big breasted blonde is still being lead by her clamped nipples; a pretty brunette with a neat body crawls beside a woman in a white PVC dress, the brunette hold a whip in her mouth.

I watch them for a few moments until I am no longer alone.

Madam is there, the security protocol given human form, in this case a blonde dominatrix in black leather: eyemask, studded collar, jacket zipped low revealing large pale breasts and a deep cleavage, short skirt, laced thigh boots; she carries a bullwhip and bars the door. I walk towards her swinging my hips enjoying the feel of Tiffany's body, the weight of my breasts, the heels, the cling of the latex.

Madam fixes me with one of her stares and Tuesday knows she is being scanned even before she gives the password.

'Threesome.'

Madam frowns repeating the scan, though more deeply this time, but then relaxes and stands aside, the door behind her opens and Tiffany steps into the eternal night of Subtown.


I walk down the familiar street past the sex shop and the one selling bondage gear. The displays have not changed. I pass the blonde girl on the nipple leash, her breasts look even bigger, she looks up at me and smiles, her blue eyes wide with lust; in doing this she slows her pace and her latex clad mistress jerks on the leash pulling her into motion again. I spot the redhead with her Goth mistress, she now has a tattoo of a flower on one of her buttocks and her nipples have piercings. I know there are others here like me in among the AIs, thrill-seekers, sex addicts, 'punters' as Pulse calls them, who want more than the human body can supply or indeed support. Sometimes they are easy to spot, their avatars subtly different from the AIs that populate this carnal neighbourhood, but often they only stand out because they are not part of the familiar scenery.

I come to a series of windows that are new though not unlike the frontage of the sex shop. The goods here are women themselves, not hidden in brothels or acting as hostesses but selling themselves to their customers. I appreciate the base implications of this even while I study each one: the redhead dominatrix in her black rubber catsuit with the studded paddle; the French maid in her short black PVC dress standing with her hands cuffed and her head bowed holding her feather duster; the next, I think, may be an avatar, someone like me, she is quite pretty, a brunette with short hair and small pointy breasts, around her neck is a steel collar and from this runs a chain which it is locked to a post with a padlock, the girl wears a corset and stockings and her arms are laced behind her back into a tight black single sleeve, as I pass she looks up at me with a shy smile, her eyes wide, the girl is cute but I don't want her, I want to be like her. The next two shops are empty and then, leaning against the doorway of the third is a woman who reminds me of the madam at the brothel I usually frequent; she has dark skin and wears a short shiny PVC mac, her skirt is short and I can see her stocking tops, her hair is curly and highlighted with blonde streaks, she wears a bolero hat and is smoking a cigar.

'Wanna rent a room, Lady ?' Her accent is Hispanic, her dark eyes flash seductively.

I stop and look at her. She is appraising me and as her head comes up her brightly rouged lips curl into a feral smile.

'Someone like you could make good money.' She pushes herself upright with a shrug of her shoulders then makes a show of strutting round me, appraising me. 'Nice.' She is standing behind me and, in the reflection of the shop window I can see her inspecting my bottom. 'Dom or sub ?'

'Perhaps I'm both.'

'A true switch ?' She sounds skeptical. 'Na ! You're sub.' She pats my rubber clad bottom then squeezes it gently.

I bow my head.

'Inside.' Her voice has become dominant. I don't have to obey but I am curious and I like her.

'How much ?'

'As it's your first time, you pay thirty and I let you stay the whole night.'

Money does exist in Subtown, extras can always be purchased and redeemed in real currency. Thirty isn't much in the real world and it will practically double my time in the sim.

'Ok.'

She tosses away the remains of the cigar and holds up a pad. I speak my password and then follow her into a narrow hallway that runs down beside the shopfront and into a cluttered back room festooned with fetish gear; leather and rubber clothing hangs from racks and more is thrown over the top of this, there are restraints hanging from the wall and the ceiling and lying scattered across the floor, on one wall there is every kind of whip, paddle, cane and tawse.

'I always think a little window dressing enhances the merchandise.' The woman spins on her heels, arms outstretched. 'See anything you fancy.'

I look around at the various cuffs and chains, straps and ropes.

The woman circles me again appraising me. I am standing with my arms at my sides.

'I know just the thing.' She bends rummaging in a chest, I can see her lacy knickers beneath the hem of her skirt and her firm pert bottom. She stands holding up two large cuffs with a smaller one attached to each.

'You don't mind, do you ?' She begins to buckle the large cuffs round my thighs then snaps my wrists into the smaller ones.

'Won't your customers want to take my knickers off ?' I pull at the cuffs, my wrists are securely strapped to my thighs.

'I'm sure they'll find a way when the time comes.' She presses herself against me. I can feel the pressure of her small breasts and the slickness of her coat against my bare skin. 'Besides, they'll be buying you for their pleasure, not yours.'

She is slightly shorter than me, slimmer, like Tuesday but less muscular and more wiry. Her eyes are dark, brows highlighted, lashes heavily painted. Her hand comes up to my breast and she rubs my nipple.

'Perhaps you'd like to try me out first.' Here I can be brazen. If I'm lucky she'll punish me but she just smiles and pinches my nipple through it's rubber coating watching as it swells in response.

'Perhaps.' She turns away and I notice she sways her hips more markedly now as she hunts for another restraint. She bends again, clearly deliberately showing me her stocking tops and her knickers, picks up a belt and walks behind me.

She loops the belt around my elbows and uses it to cinch them together, wrapping the belt around a second time before buckling it.

'In business one has to use ones assets to the full.'

'Perhaps you'd like to use me to the full.' I am being bound and it is turning me on.

'Feisty.' She smacks my bottom. 'I like that.'

I like it too.

When she reappears in front of me her eyes fix on my breasts, now thrust forward by my bondage.

'Nice.' She cups my left breast in her small hand and then teases the nipple again.

'I wouldn't charge you.' My nipples are hard and my pussy is wet.

'You know, I might have to gag you.' She smiles and I am beginning to wonder if she is an avatar, not an AI.

She turns away, moving a plastic chair towards a shelf high on the wall. When she puts her foot up on it she stops to adjust her stocking top then looks at me with a smile before climbing onto it. What she picks up is not a gag but a heavy posture collar.

'Everyone loves sub who won't kowtow.' She walks towards me with the collar. 'Gives them a chance to punish her.'

'And are you planning to punish me ?'

'Maybe.' She presses herself against me again and I reach forward with my hands, hooking my fingers into her suspenders. She slides her hand up behind my neck pulling my head down, her lips meet mine brushing them gently at first and then more forcefully.

She is an AI.

She breaks the kiss and places the collar round my throat buckling it tight.

'Thank you, Mistress.'

'Oh, I'm not your mistress.' She flashes that smile at me again, dark eyes flashing seductively. 'I'm your madam.'

'When do I get paid ?'

'First client's fee goes to the house for my...services.'

'And the second ?'

'Costume rental.'

I could feel cheated but I am in bondage and the pretty Hispanic girl has been distracting foreplay. I have also got the extra few hours in the sim at very little cost. However, I decide to be a little bad. 'Do I get anything out of this ?'

'You get to be used like the submissive whore you are.'

'And if I don't. If nobody buys me.'

'Oh, I think there's little chance of that.' Her dark eyes appraise me again. 'You naughty girl.'

The picture is falling into place, her use of language is clearly AI. I smile and open my mouth as she lifts a large ball gag to my lips.

Then, when I am securely gagged, she threads a rope though one of the rings on my collar. 'Come on, time to put you on display.'


I have been on display for five minutes, perhaps a little more, when the girl enters.

Tiffany is a girl who demands attention even in this den of hedonism and vice.

The girl is a tarty blonde out for a night of fun in a shiny leather outfit of straps that exposes more than it conceals, spiked heals and a studded collar; heavy foundation and red blusher add to the image of party slut as does the thick coating of lip-gloss and tousled hair. The whip hanging coiled at her belt shows her preference.

Through the window I've seen her mouth something that is presumably her keyword.

The bottom line is, I know, that Pulse is using me as a prostitute.

The blonde is, at first glance, not unattractive; she has nice tits, long legs and some black stilettos that I can see myself worshiping later.

I see nipple clamped blonde lead past and then look up at the woman who has just bought me, for the next hour at least. Now that I can see her in better light I see her face is severe though softened, by the heavy make-up.

Some people choose avatars that look like them, others chose to be different. In Utolia, the ultimate VR, it is said the programme makes the decision about appearance and sometimes even changes behavioural characteristics. With this one exception, it's generally easier to be the same if you are playing the long game. The sim can be used to try new things but in the long game they can be hard to maintain.

I have a reason for not wanting to be recognised.

'There's a room upstairs.' Hispanic girl tells my client.

The blonde avatar follows Hispanic girl up the cramped wooden stairs, leading me by my posture collar. Upstairs is a grubby landing with a threadbare carpet off which lead several doors. Hispanic girl points to the second one. There is a panel on the wall beside the door which is out of character with the fading old fashioned decor and when Hispanic girl runs her hand over it an image of a bedroom appears; there is a double bed with an iron bedhead and footboard, a chair and a dresser; there are chains hanging from the ceiling beams, a light hangs from one but they are clearly not just for this. Hispanic girl flicks her finger over the screen and the image scrolls to a rubber playroom with a vacuum bed and diagonal cross. I smile round my gag and watch as blondie flicks to an image of a deserted factory with scaffolds and dripping pipes; next is a school room which she flicks past without any interest; then an office; a medieval torture chamber; a prison cell; a boudoir; a medical room. Then we are back to the bedroom.



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Blondie selects the rubber room and Hispanic girl leads us inside. I expect her to go but she sits in a chair in the corner, crossing her stockinged legs as if preparing for the show. I find this strange and wonder if it is some sort of regulatory feature in the programme. An avatar can't truly be harmed and any injuries will not transmit to the body of the human associated with it but there are limits which a human could easily disregard. In the early days of full immersion it was noted that the loss of an avatar's limb could sometimes lead to a 'hysterical' or dissociative paralysis in the human controlling it; similarly, reports emerged of players suffering strokes or heart attacks when an avatar was killed and sometimes people died. Safeguards are thus important even in this cheap world.

'Kneel.'

I obey. I cannot bow my head because if the posture collar but I do cast my eyes down, initially at least. In the peripheries of my vision I see Blondie circle the room, running her hand over the vacuum bed, checking the restraint rings in the walls, examining the cross. In one corner is a heavy wooden chair with thick leather restraints that would have fitted easily into the torture chamber were it not for the rubber phalluses attached to the seat and the enema bag hanging above it. There is a bucket of whips and paddles beside the chair and Blondie tosses her own whip on the bed then selects a short cane.

I wonder what she is thinking. Unless she has been regularly it is unlikely she has interacted in this way with a human mind either.

I am glad I am gagged.

Blondie stands in front of me holding the cane. She really does have a nice body though perhaps a little skinny for my tastes. I watch as she starts to strut around me and then my eyes flick to the bed, lust starting to rise. I imagine myself stretched out on it, writhing as the rubber sheets caress and confine my body.

'I'm told you've been a very naughty girl.'

I jump and then realise she is speaking to me. I nod as best I can and mumble around my gag.

'Then I suppose I'd better punish you.' She comes back to stand in front of me.

I look up at her and nod again.

'After that perhaps we can have some fun.' She smiles.

I smile back around my gag and nod again.


I lie stretched across the vacuum bed, my wrists and ankles cuffed. I have been caned, though not as heavily as I would have liked, on the breasts and buttocks and then, after diligently thanking Mistress Blondie by applying my tongue to her heels I have been released from my bonds and commanded to strip then climb onto the bed.

My new mistress cups my breast.

'These are very distracting.' She squeezes my nipple.

'I hope to please, Mistress.'

'I'm sure you do.' She lifts my nipple stretching it and then releases her grip letting it fall back. 'Do you enjoy breath play ?'

'Yes, Mistress.'

'Good.' Blondie smiles and picks up a heavy rubber coated ring gag. 'Be a good girl and open wide.'

I obey. Mistress pushes down on my jaw and forces the gag between my teeth. It is considerably larger than the ball gag I wore earlier and is made up of two rubber coated rings so it sits on either side of my teeth. It is so big that my jaw is stretched painfully. Then she straps it in place using the harness of thick rubber straps that wrap around my head limiting my vision although this probably isn't required, with my teeth in the space between the two rings, my jaw is forced so wide I wonder if I would be able to spit it out if it she hadn't used the strap.

She clips the ring on the top of the harness to the bed so I cannot lift my head very far then returns her attention to my breasts, teasing my nipples so they swell and then I watch as she bends, feel her kiss my right nipple. I try to lift my head but can't. All I can do is lie back as she flicks my nipple with her tongue and then nibbles it gently.

Then, suddenly, she bites down hard. I cry out in surprise and squirm, writhing in pain, pulling at my bonds and trying to lift my head. She stretches my nipple with her teeth and I try to arch my body to follow her whimpering through my gag. Finally she releases me and I fall back, gasping and look over at Hispanic girl who smiles back as if she is enjoying my pain.

'We'll have to make sure I can get at those when you're all wrapped up snugly.'

Blondie pulls a thin latex sheet over my body and I squirm in delight at its soft caress; the sheet is dark, probably black though it is so thin it looks brown; it has four holes, each ringed with what looks like a thick black rubber washer; the first of these goes over my mouth and the next two, smaller, around my nipples which Blondie pulls through so they are gently pinched; the fourth ring is more of a slit and goes over my sex so that, although my body will be enclosed in the latex, my clitoris and labia, like my nipples and mouth will be freely accessible.

'I'm expecting you to enjoy this too.' She smiles down at me as she tucks the sheet in and activates the suction.

I feel the sheet begin to tighten around my helpless body, smoothing itself with increasing pressure against my skin; the sensation is delicious and I squirm with pleasure, moaning gently into my gag.

'Good girl.' Blondie almost purrs with delight at seeing me like this and I can't help wondering what sort of woman she is.

It is several minutes before I am fully wrapped in the tight rubber sheet, pressed firmly against the bed; the pressure makes my skin hot and I can feel myself sweating, the heat a sharp contrast to the coolness of the world outside that I can feel against my exposed nipples and sex and the air I draw with increasing effort through my open mouth. My eyes are shut, the pressure of the rubber firm against them and I wish I could see what is happening but I can't open them. I can move, just but it takes a lot of effort and when I stretch against it the rubber pulls me back.

I feel something in my mouth. It is mistress' finger, wrapped, I think, in a latex glove. I lick it with my tongue and am rewarded by her other hand stroking my exposed sex. Her tongue follows the finger, entering my mouth as she continues to stroke my sex. As we engage in this bizarre kiss I realise her lips must be pressed against the gag and find myself struggling to breath.

Avatars, of course, don't actually need to breath but do so as part of the simulation to make them more lifelike. Like all sensations, the need to breathe is transferred to the player by somatic sensors and neural cognition fields. Denying an avatar breath is presumably transmitted to the player via the 'gag' and I wonder what effect it will have on my body. These days, permanent harm is rarely done to the player even if the avatar is killed, a brutal beating in the sim will leave the human player bruised though not nearly as severely as one in real life and, though bones are occasionally broken and muscles pulled by players struggling against their restraints in lower end sims like Subtown real harm is unusual.

When she next lets me breathe I gasp, my chest heaving.

'Good girl.' Her voice is surprisingly clear through the rubber. Her hand is still teasing my pussy. If she's not careful I'll come. She licks my nipples. 'I think you're rather enjoying this.'

She's right.

'Time for a little more pain.'

Clamps close around my nipples, heavy toothed clamps. I love them.

I feel her move between my spread legs and then her tongue runs up my pussy.

'You're very wet.' She licks me again then something cold touches my labia, teeth bite like the nipple clamps; she is clamping my sex.

By the time she has finished I have counted seven little sets of teeth biting the most sensitive parts of my body, nine if you count the two on my nipples. The one on my clitoris is particularly painful.

I really think I might come.

Then I feel her sitting astride me, moving up my body with her knees on either side of it.

'I expect you think I'm going to let you come.' Her voice is a soft purr. 'However, I think that's pretty unlikely. You're here for my pleasure not yours.' Her finger is back in my mouth stroking my tongue. 'You're my little rubber slut, my toy, here for me to play with.'

She crawls over my breasts squeezing the clamps on my nipples and then sits over my face. I taste her and feel her juices in my mouth.

I behave like the sex toy I am and begin to tongue her feeling her squirm above me.

Her sex is completely covering the opening to my gag and I can't breathe at all; it is not long until I am desperate for air and, when she doesn't move I wonder if I might actually die. Then I feel her kneel up lifting her sex from my mouth and I gasp in air. She allows me a few moments to breathe and then sits back down again.

For the next half hour, perhaps more she rides me, making me tongue her almost to the point of orgasm and until I think I might lose consciousness and then she lifts herself allowing me to take in lifegiving air while she brings herself back from the brink.

In my giddy, half smothered state I relish the exquisite torment, marveling at her self control. Dimly I wonder whether Hispanic girl is making her give me time to breathe or perhaps just telling her when I am about to pass out. In my moments of respite my tormentress plays with my nipples and my sex which along with the asphyxiation and the bondage keep me intensely aroused.

When she finally comes I feel her knees clamp the side of my head and the weight of her body on my face. Her orgasm is intense and prolonged and I can hear her screaming.

She keeps her promise not to let me come and leaves me helpless, still tightly confined in my rubber prison with my sex and nipples clamped and my mouth gagged.


Hispanic girl finally releases me and I stand unsteadily dressing with difficulty, replacing my red rubber bustier and knickers and my stockings and boots. Then she collars me, leads me back to the shop window, and makes me kneel on display again before cuffing my wrists behind my back and tying my rope leash to the ring in the floor.


Chapter 4

TIFFANY

My next clients are clearly a couple though out for more than each other. They have oriental faces, long black shiny hair, thin bodies with small breasts and buttocks. One is dressed in a black PVC bikini, thigh boots and cat ears, the other wears lacy blue lingerie with a fur trim complete with stockings and heels. Both are classic forms based, I think, on the Japanese anime subculture. There is, of course, a sim specifically for this but I suppose one can get tired of racy motorbikes, cute monsters and samurai swords; I expect they attract mostly boys rather than men too. There are also sims for animal play both the visceral thrill of being a 'real' animal, hunting or being hunted or simply enjoying a new experience such as flying, swimming underwater or swinging through the trees; there are sites for cute humanoid cats too, usually cats anyway. My two mistresses are reassuringly human and have a pleasingly sadistic glint in their eyes as well as cute bodies and a very strong lesbian vibe.

They drag me roughly up the stairs; Bikini Cat Babe with her fist in my hair and Little Miss Lingerie striking my bottom with her whip to encourage me; Hispanic girl follows behind. They select the disused factory and throw me inside where I fall heavily onto the cold concrete floor. I struggle to my knees but Miss Lingerie cuffs me hard across the face and I fall again. When I try to rise Bikini Babe puts her foot on my collar.



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'Stay down, Slut.' She has a strong oriental accent. 'We did not say you could rise.'

'I'm sorry, Mistress.'

'Silence.' Miss Lingerie kicks me in the belly and I lie still.

'I hope you like pain, Slut.' Bikini Babe joins her friend and, presumably, lover in threatening me. The foot not on my neck is close to my face, if it were not for the posture collar I could lean forward and lick it's shiny patent leather toe.

'Pain Slut.' Miss Lingerie laughs cruelly. 'It's a good name for her.'

'Yes.' Bikini Babe agrees. 'We'll call her Pain Slut.' She removes her foot from my neck crouches down putting her fist back in my hair, pulling my head back, looking at me with her dark, hooded eyes. 'You are Pain Slut. Do you understand ?'

'Yes, Mistress.'

'Let's see how much she can take.' Bikini Babe lets go of my hair and stands.

'She's an AI. She'll take all we can give her.' Miss Lingerie kicks me again.

They think I am an AI. A shudder of pleasure runs through me.

'Get up, Pain Slut !'

I scramble to my knees and Miss Lingerie cuffs me again, chastising me for being slow, this time her blow is not hard enough to make me fall.

There is a scaffolding frame at one end of the room and I assume they will tie me to that but then I hear the rattle of chain, the scrape of metal on metal and look up to see Bikini Babe pulling a hoist across a track on the ceiling.

Lingerie Lass crouches in front of me and takes hold of my bra then in a rough movement rips it open spilling my breasts free.

'Nice titties.' Miss Lingerie pinches my right nipple hard before shredding my rubber bra, ripping it from my body; then she takes off my collar. As she does this, I feel Bikini Babe attach the chain to my wrist cuffs and then my arms are hoisted up behind my back.

I know I have not been given permission to stand and try to remain on my knees but the pull on my arms is insistent and eventually I am dragged up, by the tearing pain in my shoulders.

'I did not say you could get up, Pain Slut.' Miss Lingerie kicks my legs away and I swing by my arms tipping forward to ease the strain on my shoulders.

I gasp and Miss Lingerie grabs me by the hair.

'I don't cry, Pain Slut, we've only just started.'

I briefly wonder how much of this my real body could take.

'Shall we have her naked ?' Miss Lingerie looks across at her companion and I can hear and see her arousal, the pleasure she is feeling from treating me this way.

'Yes.' Bikini Babe's voice betrays her arousal too. 'Then we can cane her arse.'

The pair laugh cruelly and Miss Lingerie shreds my rubber knickers though she leaves my torn stockings.

There are rings in the floor and they tie my ankles to them then tighten the chain on the hoist so I am in an intense strappado, up on the toes of my boots my feet a little beyond my shoulder width apart, bent slightly forward, arms almost vertical above my head, my body completely vulnerable.

The factory doesn't have the usual sex toys and, in particular, to my tormentors' disappointment, any whips. Bikini girl takes off the PVC belt from her bottoms but they soon realise that even the buckle end is not heavy enough to hurt me properly even when they use it between my spread legs. They search the room and find a length of rope which Miss Lingerie knots and proceeds to use this across my buttocks, thighs and back. Miss Lingerie is, I think, the more sadistic of the two but punishing me like this clearly excites them both and they take turns to whip me with it. The rope is not heavy but after several dozen blows I begin to squirm and then to cry out; the whipping is exciting me too and my cries are a mix of pain and pleasure.

A lot is said about the blurred line between pain and pleasure and the joy of the sim is that, as long as you can endure the pain, you will come to no real harm. I've read about subs who've become so addicted to it that they endure what would be considered barbaric torture anywhere else in the world.

'I think we'd better gag her.' Bikini Babe picks up a short length of broom handle and uses a piece of rope to lash it between teeth. I smile at her as she does this, pleased to be able to bite down and enjoy more pain.

'We should be a little more creative ?' Miss Lingerie has the knotted rope and brings it up sharply between my legs. My pussy is wet and sensitive and I can't help but utter an expletive that is only partly tempered by my gag.

'What's that, you little AI whore ?' Bikini Babe grabs my hair and pulls my head back. 'Not happy with the way we are treating you ? You'll take what we give you and thank us for it.' She spits in my face and then turns to Miss Lingerie, planting a passionate kiss on the girl's lips which is returned with equal fervour. I watch them embrace, feeling Bikini Babe's grip in my hair relax as her other hand slides into her lover's knickers then I hang, for a moment forgotten.

My respite lasts only a few moment and then the pair begin to whip me again, Bikini Babe with her belt and Miss Lingerie with the knotted rope, mercilessly targeting my breasts, the inside of my thighs and, after pulling off my boots, the soles of my feet. It is clear they are trying to outdo each other and are skilled at this sort of punishment; I squirm and cry out under the repeated blows; some clearly produce more response than others particularly when the buckle of the belt catches my nipples or the rope strikes against my clit; on these occasions they kiss before turning to punish me again.

It is clear they are becoming increasingly aroused and their physical contact becomes increasingly more intimate and lingering. Finally I see Miss Lingerie wrap the rope around the back of Bikini Babe's neck and pull her in closer, twisting the rope with one hand to hold her as her other hand slides inside the black PVC bikini bottoms. The two kiss and I see Bikini Babe's hands go behind her back confirming that she is the more submissive. Then the two embrace, hands in each other's hair and running over each other's bodies.

It is Miss Lingerie who breaks first, pulling her lover's head away by her long silky hair; she is still holding the rope around the other girl's neck.

'Shall we hurt her again ?'

'Yes.' Bikini Babe's voice is breathy, betraying her arousal and her eagerness to please.


Though there are no sex toys there are plenty of items that the inventive sadist can use on their willing sub, a little like the knotted rope that the girls have used so prolifically on my helpless and increasingly aroused body.

While Miss Lingerie continues to whip me, Bikini Babe spends a few minutes rummaging in the various bins and piles of junk, returning with two short wooden planks and some rope which she uses to rig up a press for my breasts. Well-endowed Tiffany's breasts are easily bound and the pressure of this kinky torture leave my nipples so stiff that I think the girls could tie cords around my nipples and hang me by them.

Inspired by this find, Miss Lingerie beings a sawhorse and steel scaffolding pole. She balances the pole on the sawhorse and lifts it between my legs, lifting me onto the very tips of my toes. The position eases the pain in my shoulders but I can see there this is going and while the cold pole against my burning sex is surprisingly stimulating I can see that may not last long. Bikini Babe rolls over a barrel to wedge the other end of the pole and I am soon balanced on my sex, my ankles still cuffed to the floor to ensure I can't climb off.

'Are you enjoying that, Pain Slut ?' Miss Lingerie takes hold of one of my nipples. 'Do you like something pressing against your pussy ?'

I think I might come.

'We should use this ?' Bikini babe has unrolled a fire hose from the wall. 'We don't want her getting to hot while we play with her.'

She is inventive, if nothing else.

'We should deal with these first.' Miss Lingerie has realised just how swollen and sensitive my nipples are and gives the one she is holding a sharp pinch. 'Give me that wire.' In a few moments she has wound wire tightly around both my nipples and suspended a small steel bucket from them.

Then they turn the hose on me. The water is freezing and, in a few moments I am gasping and shivering uncontrollably. The water is filling the bucket too, increasing the weight on my tortured nipples, stretching my crushed breasts.

I'm not sure how much more I can take and I look over at Hispanic girl.

'Enough.' Hispanic girl comes to my rescue. 'Your hour is nearly up.'

My tormentresses look at her then at each other.

'Fuck me !' Little Miss Lingerie slides a finger into the ring of Bikini Babe's collar.

'Yes, Mistress.' Bikini Babe goes down immediately, dropping to her knees and pulling Miss Lingerie's knickers down to reveal her smoothly shaved sex. I see the kneeling girl's tongue dart out, pushing between Miss Lingerie's legs and watch the girl squirm with pleasure, her hands going into Bikini Babe's hair and pulling the girl's face against her sex.

Bikini Babe is obviously skilled for in a few moments Miss Lingerie is panting hard looking at me as her lover pleasures her.

Seeing the arousal in the girl's eyes excites me and reminds me of the sadistic pleasure I have just provided her, part of me is disappointed not to be kneeling there being forced to please both of them. I begin to squirm in my bonds, I can't help myself, tiny movements that rub my sex against the bar pressed so cruelly against it and make the bucket torturing my nipples swing.

I have been used as a sex toy for two hours now, kept in bondage, punished and humiliated.

I desperately want to come.

I watch Miss Lingerie's eyes cloud over and her head go back as she climaxes and I can feel my own building.

Then I feel something press against my belly and look down to find Hispanic girl's dark eyes looking up at mine. I see her shake her head.

'Bleathe...' I plead with her through my gag.

'You are not here for your pleasure.' Her voice is deep and dominant.


I kneel in the window still recovering from the treatment I have just received. My body feels exhausted, bruised, battered but I remain sexually frustrated. With my clothing torn away, Hispanic girl has removed the remains of my torn stockings and dressed me in a tiny leather thong, I am otherwise naked aside from the posture collar and the cuffs still holding my wrists behind me back. I am tethered to a ring in the floor by a rope leash. When she leaves me alone it only takes a moment for me to slide my cuffed hands under my bottom and then, kneeling again, I just can't stop my my fingers wandering towards my sex. I am on public display, women walking past me continuously, many looking at me with interest but this only serves to excite me further. I have been tied up and abused, forced to please others, treated like the sex toy I want to be.

The thong is no deterrent at all and soon my fingers are teasing my slick swollen sex. With the posture collar round my neck I cannot look down and am forced to stare back at the women who look in on me as I masturbate.

In the real world I would probably look a mess, bruised and dirty, my hair wet. I would smell too, smell of the women who had used me and my own sex. In the simulation this does not happen. In the partial reflection of the window I can see that my hair is tousled but my body appears otherwise unmarked. My breasts that have been bound and clamped are once again full and shiny, the nipples stiff, my belly is taught, my thighs firm.


When the brunette spots me I am close to orgasm, my fingers inside my sex. I see her immediately, big blue eyes and shiny hair not unlike my own though cut into a longer bob. There are only a limited number of avatars available and though the variations that can be made to them is almost infinite, some basic body styles and faces are more common than others. She looks at me and I see a smile creep onto her face.

I look back at her and continue to play with myself. I can feel my cheeks blushing with the humiliation of what I am doing but I am so horny I can't stop.

Looking into her eyes I climax hard, arching forward as I rub my swollen clit. I hold her gaze for as long as I can. She is as stunning as Tiffany and staring at her increases my pleasure; the fact she is watching me play with myself just amplifies that lust. However, eventually, I have to close my eyes as I kneel gasping and very satisifed, for the moment, at least.



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When I open my eyes I am disappointed to find her gone though I realise there are at least a dozen women watching me through the window.

I can't resist licking my fingers.


Suddenly the door opens and, so soon after my orgasm, I jump. For a moment I am filled with hope that it is the brunette but it is only Hispanic girl.

She smiles. 'You've been putting on quite a show.'

I look back at the window. My audience is dispersing.

Another figure enters behind Hispanic girl.

It is the brunette.

'She's paid for you for the rest of the night.' Hispanic girl crouches in front of me and unties my rope leash from the ring in the floor, deliberately pushing her bottom into my face as she does so, then she stands and passes it to the brunette.

'There's a room upstairs.'

The brunette smiles. 'Thanks but I'll use my own.'

My eyes widen as she takes my leash but I do not resist, I drop onto all fours and crawl behind my new owner, following her out into the street.


The brunette is wearing shiny red thigh boots and I crawl eagerly beside them, turning occasionally as far as my posture collar permits to look at the red patent leather and the huge heels. She is also wearing a matching patent leather bodice that is cut very high on the thigh and has a zip at the front which is currently at about the level of her navel so that the soft flesh of her breasts is clearly displayed before they disappear from sight beneath it. Between her breasts hangs a red stone on a necklace. She holds my leash in her red gloved hands.

Whether she pays me any attention I cannot tell. She doesn't look down, simply walking through the street as one might taking a dog for a walk.

Despite my recent climax or, perhaps because of it, I revel in this treatment.

We pass the usual suspects and others, a woman in a hobble skirt trips past on toe boots with her arms folded behind her into a box sleeve, she is being lead by her nipple piercings; there is a pony cart being drawn by two pretty redheads tied up outside the lingerie store, the girls are decked out in ornate harnesses and plumes and while their mistress shops they nuzzle against each other as far as their bonds will allow.

After perhaps ten minutes, we reach something that looks like a house, a single story that is almost cottage like and somewhat out of place in this grimy slum. The brunette mounts the single step to the porch and places her palm on a sensor like the payment tablets mounted beside the door. She then pushes the door open and leads me inside.

I am expecting some sort of kinky playroom but it is simply a living room with chairs and tables, a breakfast bar and a kitchenette. The only evidence that it is in Subtown is the smattering of sex toys and bondage gear lying around though, compared to Hispanic girl's treasure trove, the equipment is somewhat spartan. The woman drops my leash and I settle back on my heels bowing my head as far as the posture collar will allow.

'My, aren't we a good girl.' The brunette circles me. 'Though perhaps I'd better cuff your hands behind you to remove any temptation you might be feeling to repeat that kinky little act of yours.'

'If it would please you, Mistress.'

'Quite the little sub.' She reaches down and frees my wrists. I place my arms behind my back and she locks my wrists together again.

'Better ?'

'Yes. Thank you, Mistress.'

'What's your name ?' I see her walk to the kitchen, take a bottle of wine, pour a glass.

'Tiffany, Mistress.'

'I mean your real name.' She walks back towards me sipping the wine.

'Tiffany, Mistress.' I look down shyly. I come here to do what I do in a place where I won't be known. However, deep down, I have often fantasised about meeting another like me here. However, there are safeguards, even here, to prevent the exchange of personal information. Even so, I blush slightly at the thought I have lied to her.

'Whatever.' She is standing in front of me again and I can't help looking up at that delicious full body. 'What do you think of the new mod ? Your first time with an av ?' She takes another sip of wine.

Drinking is like other bodily functions here, an optional extra.

'Tonight, yes.'

She crouches in front of me and I look back into her eyes before dropping my gaze submissively though this takes my eyes to her breasts and then down at her crotch.

'These are delightful.' She strokes my nipples. 'Is this anything like what you look like for real ?'

'No, Mistress.' I'm sure we're not supposed to be discussing this sort of thing. Perhaps the protocols to prevent the exchange of personal information are less stringent with the new interactions.

'Me neither.' She smiles. 'Though I recall being a brunette.' She stands and I get to see her boots in their full glory. 'I've always wanted big tits though.'

I look up to see her playing with her breasts with her free hand.

'How about you ?'

'36B, Mistress. The real Tiffany is a skinny blonde.'

'Not here I see.' She smiles. 'I must say I admire your taste.'

'Thank you, Mistress.'

'Anyway, why don't we get you into some interesting bondage, then we can talk some more.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

She uses rope; it is soft and white but I can still feel it chafing my skin as she tightens it round my shoulders, pulling them back. She ties my elbows together next and then, after removing the cuffs, my wrists.

'Do you like having your breasts bound ?'

'Very much, Mistress.'

'Good girl.'

She sets to work on my breasts, harnessing and binding them.

'You own anything here ?' She talks conversationally even though I am kneeling at her feet and she is handling my breasts freely.

'Own ?'

'Real estate.' She pauses to take a sip of wine. 'This place is going to be worth a fortune one day. You should invest.'

'I'm not sure I could afford it.'

'Be worth the investment if you can.' She runs rope close to both my nipples and tightens it so it pinches them gently.

I think of the money I have earned by prostituting myself. I'd hoped to pay for more sim time though realise I will need to replace the rubber clothes that were torn off me. Either way, I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford anything like property here. I begin to wonder who this woman is in the real world. She must at least have come in though a registered portal and can afford the drinking mod. I've never even thought of buying a house here. This woman must be rich and, perhaps, influential.

She starts to tighten ropes around my belly, linking them to the rope harness which pulls my shoulders back and cinches my breasts. When she has finished there are three ropes hanging free and I am excited at where she is going to put them.

'Stand up.'

I obey and she removes my thong then pats my bottom gently.

'This is nice too.'

She draws the hanging ropes between my legs, pulling two back, tightly, separating my labia and pulling them tight into my bottom; the third comes forward through my sex.

She smiles as she tightens it off. 'I'm guessing you might be asking me to undo this quickly later.'

I grin back. 'Yes, Mistress.'

'Sit in the chair.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I sit in the padded wooden chair, the leather of the seat cold for a moment against my bottom. My arms go over the chair back.

She crouches and begins to tie my legs, knees wide apart, ankles pulled back, ropes around my thighs then she ties my arms to the back of the chair.

'Let me see you struggle.'

I squirm against the ropes. They are deliciously tight, knotted where I can't reach them. My breasts are throbbing and, after struggling I can feel the crotch rope working its magic.

'Good girl.' I watch as she goes to the kitchen and refils her wineglass. Then she slips off her shiny red leather gloves walks back towards me. I think she may be swaying on her heels.

She sits astride me, facing me so that once again I am forced to look at her, her blue eyes and strong features, her large breasts. Her nipples are stiffly erect under the leather bodice.

'I don't suppose you drink.'

'No, Mistress.' I know she is asking whether I have the mod.

'Shame. You really should try it. You can get as drunk as you like and never have a hangover.'

'Maybe.' I don't really want to tell her all my disposable income goes on sim time.

'You can still taste though.' She dips her finger in the wineglass. 'Open wide.' She slips it into my mouth and runs her fingertip over my tongue. I notice her nails are the same glossy red as her clothes.

'Thank you, Mistress.' I can taste the wine but, though I try, I can't swallow it, it is almost as if I've forgotten what to do.

She leans forward and kisses me gently on the lips.

'I think that collar might need to come off.' She puts the wine on the floor and unbuckles the posture collar.

'So, tell me, what is it you like best ? Is it the bondage or are you more into S&M and being tied up is just a way to get yourself punished ?'

'I like it all, Mistress. I like dressing in rubber and leather too, and seeing others in it.'

'What delightful little fetish addict you are.' She kisses me again and drips another drop of wine into my mouth.

I lick my lips.

'Perhaps we should find out if the wine has any effect on you.'

'I don't think it will. If I can't swallow it I won't get drunk.'

'Oh, I wasn't thinking of getting you to drink it.' She arches her eyebrow suggestively and for a moment I am confused but then she dips her finger back in the wine and rubs a little on my nipple. I feel a slight chill as the wine evaporates and my nipple responds obediently.

'See ? It does have an effect.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I smile. 'Perhaps you should punish me for doubting you.'

She smiles back. 'Oh, I'm sure there'll be time for that later.'

She drips a little more wine onto my nipple and then bends to lick it off. She repeats the process with the other side.

'Shouldn't I be doing that for you, Mistress ?'

'Perhaps you should.'

I watch as she slides her zip down a little further and then slips her free hand into her bodice, guiding her right breast out; it is delightfully firm and round and, I notice, considerably bigger than mine, her nipple is pierced. She holds the edge of the glass to her nipple and tips it up so the wine wets it then guides her nipple to my mouth.

I lick it and then suckle it gently then play with the nipple ring.

'Good girl.' I can hear the pleasure in her voice. 'You know, I've read there's a mod that lets you lactate.'

'I think wine is more fun.'

'Me to.' I know I cannot be drunk but there is something about the situation that excites me in a way that is not purely sexual.

'Ropes aren't too tight ?'

'No, Mistress. Just right.'

'Good. Let's try the other side shall we ?' She puts down her wine and shrugs her shoulders out of the bodice. Her breasts really are beautiful and the little gold rings in her nipples glint in the light. I paid all I could afford for Tiffany's body, larger breasts were a premium.

I spend some time licking her breasts and she finishes the glass, leaving me for a moment to refill it. As she becomes a little more drunk the wine begins to run down her belly and she stands to let me lick it out of her navel. Eventually she pulls the bodice off entirely, standing in front of me in just her boots. Her clit is pierced with a similar gold ring and she responds with a gasp when I flick it with my tongue.

I want to make her come with my tongue but it is difficult in this position.

'Do you have a bedroom here, Mistress.'

'Are you feeling tired ?'

'No, Mistress. I was just thinking I could please you more...', I search for the word, '...thoroughly, if we were lying down.'

'I think you've done a pretty good job already.' She takes a swig of wine, draining the remains of the glass, the last of the bottle, and walks to the kitchen leaving it on the counter. She is definitely swaying on her heels now. 'Time for me to give you a little fun.' She turns and smiles at me and I can't help thinking how beautiful she is.



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'Yes, Mistress.'

'I seem to recall I was going to punish you.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

'The question is how to do it with you all trussed up like that.'

My breasts are quite tightly bound and striking them with a crop would be painful but probably wouldn't be as satisfying as striking bare flesh; in the sitting position my bottom is protected; she could perhaps take a crop to my thighs where there is no rope around them; I am aware the sole of my feet are exposed and I suppose she could always clamp my nipples.

She comes to stand behind me and gently pulls my head back, bending to kiss me on the mouth again. I return the kiss and feel her hands slip to my breasts, kneading them gently in their little rope prisons and then teasing my nipples with the edges of her nails.

'I don't think this can be classed as punishment, Mistress.'

Her hand slides down my body and between my legs stroking my labia which are already wet and swollen.

'Perhaps.'

I feel her smile as she continues to toy with my helpless body. One of her hands wraps in my hair and holds my head back as her tongue probes deeply into my mouth. I can taste the wine on her breath.

I squirm with pleasure feeling the pull of the ropes on my body, a sensation which excites me further.

'Those ropes really are tight, aren't they ?'

'Yes, Mistress.' I am in a dreamy world of subspace, helpless, aroused, squirming in delicious bondage.

'Do you think you can squirm enough to make yourself come ?'

I wriggle on the seat. The crotch-rope is teasing but I'm not sure it is enough to give me orgasm. Tiffany has, however, endured most of the night in bondage and, for most of that has been frustrated.

I think I can probably do it.

'I'm not sure, Mistress.' I strain up to try to kiss her but she lifts her head.

'Shall we find out then ?' She stands and smooths my hair. 'Your mistress commands the her slave come.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I begin to squirm trying to rub my sex against the seat of the chair hoping to work the crotch-rope against me. After a few minutes I realise it is not going to be easy. Mistress has opened another bottle of wine, refilled her glass; she sits watching the show from a leather armchair opposite me, feet up, still wearing just her boots. When I look up, flushed and frustrated, she raises her glass to me and takes a sip.

For a very long time she watches me squirm. At least twice I get very close to climax but it eludes me; on the third occasion I look back at Mistress in defeat.

'Please, Mistress.'

I am bathed in sweat, gasping and, despite my nakedness, very hot.

Mistress smiles and climbs a little unsteadily to her feet.

'So you're begging me to let you come ?'

'Yes, Mistress.'

'Good girl.' She picks up a vibrator and comes to sit astride me again, sliding the vibrator in between us. 'Shall we do it together ? I must say I've got very wet down below watching you squirm like that. You really are a beautifully submissive little thing.'

'Thank you, Mistress.'

She kisses me and switches on the vibrator.

After my sexual teasing my body responds almost instantly and it is clear my booted brunette mistress is in a very similar state. As my orgasm builds she kisses me gently, stroking my hair and her gentleness strikes me as an extreme contrast, to my earlier encounters with other avatars, other humans using this simulated world to satisfy their fetishistic lusts.

We climax almost together, me slightly before her, and she hugs me as we do so, pressing her body against mine, I can feel the firmness of her body, the pressure of her thighs, the fullness of her breasts, her nipples, as hard as mine.

Then we are both lost, vulnerable and in thrall to our bodies' needs, no longer Mistress and Slave but the same.


When I emerge gasping from a climax that I think has lasted several minutes I find Mistress smiling at me, her dominance returned, her blue eyes shining so that were I not bound and helpless I would obey her utterly, her willing sex toy and her loyal slave.

'Thank you, Mistress.'

'Oh, I think we both got what we wanted.' She brushes her hair back on one side, a gesture I have noticed her use before, a mannerism that is probably something she does in the real too, such things are often transferred to Avatars. Then she turns off the vibrator and kisses me gently.

And thus we spend the rest of the night together, me as Mistress' obedient slave, helpless in the rope harness using my tongue to pleasure her and Mistress in her thigh boots gently dominating me. After our second climax together where, again, I feel her vulnerability, she releases my from the chair but only to slide me over her lap on the bed and spank me hard. It is perhaps the most delightful punishment I have ever endured; Mistress' body in contact with mine, firm and toned and those delicious boots; after I climax twice during the spanking she ties me by my ankles to the bed and gags me with a large ball gag. Then she pleasures me. I have had cunnelingus many times in Subtown, certainly in my earlier visits before my addiction to more intense bondage and physical punishment grew, but this is beyond anything I have experienced; her tongue is so skilled that I squirm and cry and beg through my gag for her to let me come again; it is an exquisite torment so different from the grueling torture I have endured for my own pleasure already this night and for many nights before.

I wonder if I have finally found the kind of domination I desire, not the brutal, intense pain and violent climaxes in the anonymity of Subtown but something I can enjoy both in sim and in the real.


I am lying in a haze of satisfaction when I feel something trigger inside me, a feeling of nausea and exhaustion. I have felt it before, on my second visit to Subtown when I tarried, delaying my return to the entry portal. Subsequently, I always ensured I arrive at the exit in good time. When playing with AIs who are linked to the core there is no possibility of them unexpectedly keeping me in bondage too long.

'I have to go to the portal, Mistress.'

'You can't stay ?'

'I really want to. I...she...me... I have to go...' I am shaking.

She begins to untie me and, just as she frees me I feel the second warning, staggering.

'Come on.' She must recognise the signs and is walking to the door still naked save for her boots.

I have fifteen minutes and the portal is only a short distance away, I can easily reach it. If I stayed here I would return to my body when my allotted time was complete but all my memories of this night (and my small earnings, whatever they might be) would be lost.

'Mistress.'

'Yes ?'

'Will you take me back the way you brought me here ?'

She smiles. 'Of course.'

I drop to my knees and she collars me then pulls on her leather bodice.

'Heel !' She picks up my leash and I crawl out of the door behind her.


We have only a few minutes and part of me wants to go through the portal like this, like an animal, a pet, on all fours but I also want to say goodbye to mistress properly.

'Mistress.' I kneel back on my heels. 'May I kiss you again before I go ?'

'Of course.'

I stand and, somewhat awkwardly take her into my arms. Something I am not sure I have ever done in the sim.

I see her smile though there is sadness in her blue eyes.

'May I see you again ?' I try not to sound too desperate.

'I'm sure that can be arranged.'

There is a pad by the portal and she keys in her code. I turn and do the same. I don't care what it will cost me. I'll probably have to take out a loan to come back tonight but I so want to do this again.

Perhaps somehow we will be able to continue seeing her.

Perhaps we can meet in the real.

Nausea washes over me and I stagger. Mistress steadies me.

'I will see you tonight.' She kisses me gently on the cheek. 'You don't want to forget me, do you.'

'No, Mistress.'

She gives me a gentle push and I pass through the portal, turning as I do so to see her world shimmer and vanish and then I am back in the entrance suite.


Author's Note: the first two parts were published together


Chapter 5 (added: 2018/08/11)

SPARKLE

Needless to say we are being punished. Mistress is very angry with us, and with Madam Equa. Mistress doesn't punish her subjects often, except her slaves of course, but she ordered Madam Equa flogged, a punishment that was carried out by the Chateau Flame's Tormentress. Madam Equa could, of course, allow her slave to take the punishment for her and the thought of seeing the voluptuous Nipples dancing under the whip, no doubt encouraged a good attendance at the event. However, Madam Equa chose to take the punishment herself, something I am certain will ensure the loyalty of her slave for a long time to come and confirm clearly her own loyalty to Countess Desire.

Silver and I are, of course enduring a far more severe punishment which is likely, overall, to last several days. I could perhaps argue that I had a very limited role in what was largely Silver's transgression but unfortunately I was climaxing loudly and strongly in my bondage when Mistress caught us.

I think Silver was so engrossed in her cunnelingus she did not notice Mistress striding across the floor of the gymnasium until it was too late and, for my part, I was otherwise occupied, as well as being hooded. Even if I had noticed her approach it is doubtful I would have been able to warn Silver in time.

We are, as the first part of our punishment straddling a steel bar which, over the last few hours seems to have become increasingly hard where it is pressing against my sex; our arms are chained behind our backs, wrist cuffs locked to opposite upper arm cuffs while our ankle cuffs are chained to the thigh cuff on the same side. Chains behind our knees keep us upright so there is no escape from the pressure on our poor crushed pussies and we are far enough off the ground that we cannot support ourselves in any way. We are both gagged, of course, and sit facing each other. Our nipples are clamped and joined, my left to Silver's right and her left to my right, by wires from which hang weights so that if either of us moves the weights are set swinging. My nipples are still sore from the punishment in the gymnasium and this arrangement is an exquisite torment for me.

I can see that Silver is suffering too, the eloquent agony in her lovely blue eyes is heartbreaking. I long to comfort her but chains from our collars are locked to the end of the bar which we straddle and keep us a short distance apart furthermore a rod between our nose rings means that, even were we not held apart by our bonds we would not be able to touch or, indeed, kiss and yet we are forced to look at each other; this is perhaps the cruelest torment of all.

We have already been whipped, of course, buttocks, thighs (inner, outer, front and back), belly, calf and the soles of our feet. This whipping occurred before we were left in our punishment bondage and, I think, Mistress has left our breasts and backs for Madam Equa though she has decorated our breasts heavily with the urticant wand.


TIFFANY

A girl could spend her whole life in the clothing boutique of Subtown, well a kinky girl at least. The shop is packed with every conceivable fetish garment from heavy rubber bodysuits to lingerie that is little more than a collection of silk strings, there are bras and knickers of every colour and material from leather to lace and many that are completely transparent; stockings come in rubber, silk and nylon, fine mesh and fishnet, some torn for effect; a lot of the skirts are ultrashort designed to flash the wearer's knickers, if she is wearing any, at any opportunity, but some are long and tight designed to bind and hobble the wearer, there are harnesses too and corsets, lots of corsets even steel ones that can be locked on the submissive as a punishment or, perhaps a reward; subs often adorn themselves with collars too and cuffs, others with piercings though many prefer this to be carried out within the simulation itself; the boots and shoes almost invariably have heels that are at least five inches whether they are simple sandals or heavy rubber thigh boots, many are designed to lock in place, particularly the toe boots. As well as individual items there are sets too: kinky uniforms, pony girl gear complete with bridles and play hooves; pet ears and collars with bells and, of course, kinky superhero outfits that would almost certainly fall off in any sort of action.



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I want to wear something to please Mistress and with the credit earned from my night as a whore I think I can pick something from the designer range but as I enter the boutique one of the assistants takes my arm and leads me directly into the changing rooms. She is a statuesque blonde like madam who guards the door though this one looks like a shopgirl with her tight white blouse stretched over the points of nipples confined in a bullet bra and black pencil skirt that would be utterly smooth across her firm bottom and thighs if its line was not lost over the clips of her suspenders. I try to protest but the girl's hold on my arm is firm unwavering.

She shows me into a booth and there is my costume waiting for me. It consists of a red, white and blue rubber bra and matching knickers; there is writing on them and when I lift them up I can read the words 'Sex Toy'; the bra has holes for my nipples and the knickers are split in the crotch and lined with little rubber cilia that tease a girl as she walks; it is obvious that, as I bend the split will open exposing my sex blatantly to anyone who cares to look at me. There is a collar too with the word 'Sex Toy' embossed on it too.

The girl offers to assist me in dressing but I decline. The way she has brought me here leaving no room for arguement has already excited me and feeling her hands on me would, no doubt be pleasurable but I wish to save myself for Mistress and it will hardly take me more than a few seconds to don the deliciously slutty garments. I roll the rubber over my skin ensuring my nipples are poking through the little holes designed for them, the holes pinch gently and are slightly rough to ensure that, like my sex already responding the rubber cilia, my nipples are constantly stimulated. In the mirror I can see Tiffany's body clad in rubber that shapes her curves and highlights her smooth tanned skin, she is deliciously seductive, the word 'Sex Toy' is splashed across Tiffany's big breasts and firm round bottom, her nipples already swollen like ripe raspberries; I cannot resist spreading my thighs to look at my shiny pink sex through the slit in the knickers.

Tiffany is a girl who shaves and waxes daily, moisturises regularly and spends half her day in the salon to look her best for Tuesday's visits.

I would like Mistress to collar me but that is clearly not what she desires and I lift the metal to my throat, encircling Tiffany's neck. I am about to close it when I think I should probably kneel to be collared. I drop to my knees spreading my thighs wide and close the collar, locking around my throat, hearing it click shut, locked.

I tremble with pleasure.

I am about to stand when I notice the boots, knee high boots with six inch heels that will make me walk on the very tips of my toes like I did when following the AI mistress and her maid who walked me on a leash. I sit on the leather stool flashing my pussy again, because it's hard not to and because that's the kind of collared slutty rubber sex toy I am. Then I slide the boots onto my feet and begin to lace them up.

When I have finished dressing I am panting hard, not with the exertion but with the expectation. I can see Tiffany's face flushed in the mirror and I tell her what a little slut she is.

She likes this and smiles back at me. Then she stands and, slightly hesitantly on the huge heels walks out of the changing room.


The shop girl has been waiting for me and I note immediately she carries a set of wrist cuffs and a chain leash.

'Very nice, Madam.' She smiles. 'The garments suit you.'

'Thank you.' I smile.

'Turn round.' The AI's have a very definite dominant voice and the girl uses it on me.

I obey immediately and, before I can even think to stop her she has cuffed my hands behind my back. I pull against them impotently as she spins me round so she can clip the leash to my 'Sex Toy' collar.

'Heel.' She walks off, jerking the leash and I follow obediently behind.

I am scanned again by Madam on the door. The two girls could be twins save for their different garments. Madam is, currently, dressed in a black catsuit that has a military air and she carries a taser rather than a whip. Her clothes do change from time to time when the software gets upgraded. Her scan takes the form of a body search which, given the skin tight nature of my skimpy rubber garments is gratuitous but in my current state extremely enjoyably and deliciously intimate with her fingers going into every orifice.

She passes me and her shop girl clone leads me through the portal.


I find myself in an area of Subtown I don't recognise or perhaps the upgrade has changed the appearances of facades. I look around trying to get my bearings and catch a glimpse of nipple clamped blonde disappearing round a corner. Tracking back I see Hispanic girl restraining a pretty oriental looking girl in one of her display windows; Hispanic girl is using rope, trying to obtain a shibari effect, something her captive is clearly enjoying from the look in her lovely dark almond eyes which are wide above the huge red ball gag that fills her mouth; even from this far I can see her nostrils flaring as she struggles in the intense bondage which has her suspended in a kind of hogtie but with her arms folded behind her back; the tight knotted crotch rope disappearing between her legs is probably playing its part in her arousal although, if she is anything like me, the feeling of rope on her skin is also working like an aphrodisiac.

I hope Mistress will use rope again.

Shop Girl leads me a short way down the street to a stone plinth standing in the middle of an intersection. I don't recall seeing it before; it looks like the sort of thing a statue might be set on but the steps cut into the side suggest another use. It is about waist height and has a steel ring set into the top. Shop Girl tells me to climb onto it and I obey dropping to my knees at her command on the top. Around me the people of Subtown continue to go about their business, doms and subs passing, the latter leashed and hobbled, crawling or tottering on punishing heels. There has definitely been an upgrade since my last visit, the slim brunette with the bit and butt plug is now harnessed to a gig and Jodhper girl now flashes her small cleavage from its seat. Goth mistress and the pierced redhead come next, bells now adoring her nip

ple piercings, and then a couple I have not seen before, a mistress in corset and taffeta skirt, with a fascinator perched on her head and a pearl choker; I can tell she's AI but the woman behind is clearly an avatar, a petite blonde dressed as far as I can tell only in a large black cloak that flaps out as she walks exposing her naked body beneath, from what I can see of the blonde's face beneath the hood of her cloak she is pretty with blue eyes and a small rosebud mouth, she is heavily made up and her nipples have been rouged too; perhaps she has been made to look like a whore; the boudior dominatrix leads her by a clit piercing and as she passes she looks up at me; perhaps she knows I too am like her or perhaps she is new to Subtown, wide eyed at the vast array of kink available; perhaps she thinks she will try what I am doing next time; whatever her story, I can see the pleasure in her sharp blue eyes as she is lead to enjoy whatever masochistic pleasure she desires.

There is a pull on my collar and I realise Shop Girl has passed my leash through the ring in the plinth, she pulls on the chain and I am drawn down so that my neck is next to the ring, my face no more than a few inches above the stone. Shop Girl fastens me like this with a padlock, on my knees, wrists cuffed behind my back, my bottom above the level of my head and my sex, no doubt gaping, exposed to whoever chooses to touch it.

I am the slutty sex toy I desire to be, my status written on my body, clear for all to see.

I shudder with delight.


I am back in tight bondage and the feeling is exquisite. I am lying on my back on a low table in Mistress' house. She has once again used ropes to bind me and as I squirm in pleasure I hear them creak and feel them bite into the flesh of my wrists and arms, tighten around my spread thighs and my crossed, booted ankles, there is even a noose around my throat above my wonderfully humiliating collar that tightens deliciously when I lift my head. I have always thought I preferred being restrained in leather, enjoying the look and feel of it on my body, its smell and taste; but I think I will soon be addicted to being bound with rope; this is not only from the way it confines me now but the way it takes longer to bind a girl with rope making the interaction between dominant and submissive, Mistress and Slave, more prolonged and far more intimate.

It was the bondage that first excited me, the feeling of utter helplessness, of being gagged and blindfolded but, then I began to enjoy the domination of another, the loss of control, a spiral of teasing, flagellation, humiliation, pain; but now there is more, there is Mistress.

I lie on my back across a low table in Mistress' house, thighs spread, ankles pulled back and bound together, crossed, beneath the tabletop; I still wear my beautiful submissive boots. My wrists are tied together too, pulled up over my head and then down under the table so that when I pull against my restraints I can feel the ropes tighten on my ankles; my elbows are bound too so that my head rests on the rope binding them. Mistress sits with her stockinged feet resting on my bare belly; she is still dressed, partly at least, lacy red lingerie, her bra still covering her breasts and garters still holding up the stockings. The red pendant still swings teasingly between her full breasts. I removed her knickers with my teeth when we arrived here and they now fill my mouth, a deliciously sensuous gag.

I have pleasured her twice so far, helpless as I am now, lifting my head, feeling the cord around my throat tighten as I thrust my tongue inside her; I am sure I pleased her from the way she moaned and cried, enjoying the ministrations of her helpless and utterly devoted slave but then, after her second climax, or should I say series of climaxes, she stood leaving me helpless and full of lust; I watched her walking to the table to retrieve her wineglass then saunter back taking a tiny sip before kneeling beside my head and pushing her discarded knickers into my mouth.

I am thus hot and horny as hell but I still haven't been allowed to come.

She sits, holding her glass of wine in one hand but I notice tonight she barely drinks from it. Instead she fiddles with the remote control to the vibrator she tied against my pussy, with the knotted crotchrope that torments me as I squirm, teasing me mercilessly. She has also tied a cord around each of my nipples and has them twisted around the fingers of the hand in which she holds the vibrator so that as she torments me with pleasure the cords create delicious sensations in my swollen nipples.

I have a dozen whipmarks on my belly, punishment for trying to defy her and reach the orgasm I so desperately crave. After teasing me with the vibrator and the nipple cords for some time she asked if I was ready for orgasm; I was, of course, as she well knew, she had been turing off the vibrator repeatedly just as I was about to come; despite my submissive desires or perhaps because of them, I lied, shaking my head trying to pretend I was not so mindblowingly near orgasm I could barely think of anything beyond how helpless I was and how this gorgeous woman was dominating me so utterly and how much I wanted to come; I hoped she might give me a few moments more pleasure that would carry me over the edge but instead she stopped the vibrator, carefully placed it to one side and then stood, delivering the half dozen blows sharply, punishing me physically but also humiliating me utterly for my worthlessness.



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I came as she whipped me, of course.


The vibrator stops again and I whimper pitifully into my humiliating gag.

A noise outside has caught Mistress' attention.

A shot.

She puts down her glass and places aside the control to my vibrator, standing purposefully, alert suddenly. From where I am lying I can see her lush body, full and strong, her long toned legs, tight belly and full breasts, she looks so utterly dominant.

'I may have to step out for a few moments.'

I can also see her gaping labia, pink and moist, the ring in her clitoris catching the low light. She dressed only in her bra and stockings but then this is Subtown.

She slips on her heels then turns from me and walks to a painting on the wall, pulling it open on hinges mounted on one side like one might see in a detective film to reveal a safe. It takes her only seconds to turn the combination lock, spinning it in a blur of movement that is beyond my ability to see let alone remember. The door opens and I can see only darkness, not just the absence of light but the absence of reality as if whatever lies within is not part of this world, or perhaps less dramatically, beyond the coding of Subtown.

I watch as she reaches in and retrieves and object. Exposed to the light of this world, I see it is a gun, a small but heavy revolver. I see her check it with a precision that is honed by constant familiarity, opening the chamber, checking the rounds, inspecting the mechanism then snapping it shut.

I hear shouts in the street outside, noise, the unmistakable sound of violence.

She stuffs the gun into the top of her right garter then she looks down at me and smiles.

'I should probably put my knickers on but I'm not sure they'd be of any use to me at the moment.'

She picks up her transparent PVC coat and slips it on. 'I suppose this will have to do.' She grins more broadly. 'A girl must preserve some modesty.'

She blows me a kiss.

'Don't go away.'

As if I could, or would want to.

She slips out through the door and out into the street. I lift my head to try see what is happening but the cord around my neck tightens sharply and then the door closes leaving me alone and helpless.


I squirm for several minutes tugging frantically at the ropes but I am securely bound I have no option but to wait for her return. I lie listening to the unfolding scene in the street. I can hear screaming and swearing, windows breaking, an explosion; there are more shots but I don't think they are fired from Mistress's gun. Tuesday trains on the firing range regularly and is familiar with a variety of weapons. She has also policed a number or riots; the sound is unmistakeable.

I should probably be frightened. I am bound to a table, half naked, gagged and there is only a light wooden and very definitely unlocked door between me and a violent street confrontation outside.

I hear the unmistakable sound of a fire.

However, I am not frightened and I know this is not because I am in a simulation, it is because of the way Mistress looked. She was not frightened at all. If anything she looked slightly exhilarated. I know that she will protect me.

I turn my head and look at the wall safe, still open, the painting hanging out at right angles to the wall. The blackness is still there, like the absence of reality, still and calm and unfathomable.

There is another shot.

Mistress.

A second.

Mistress has six rounds. She has fired two. I cannot think of anywhere she might conceal more ammunition.

Her opponent returns fire.

I lie still, holding my breath only releasing it when until Mistress fires a third shot.

There is silence outside.

A cold sweat bathes me then nausea washes over me. If I wasn't gagged, I would lick my lips.

I hear the door start to open and look towards it. I know it must be Mistress. I think I see her arm, the clear PVC coat, her stockinged leg and patent leather stiletto.

Then the world dissolves around me.

I scream into my gag in frustration but there is nothing I can do.


SPARKLE

It is the second day of our punishment. After a day astride the steel bar we are locked in tiny cages, on our knees, our wrists chained behind us and our legs folded tightly beneath us. These cages are so small that when we are locked in them we can barely move and, after several hours our bodies are tormented by cramps. We are, of course, gagged and, on this occasion also hooded so that we kneel in the darkness listing to each other's whimpers.

I have an enema tube inside me and, I assume the same is true for Silver. A girl must relieve herself even if she has not been fed for twenty four hours. Many mistresses enjoy seeing their slaves squat to pee in front of them, granting permission to do this is another way for a mistress to exert her dominance over one of her pets, but very few I think enjoy watching their slaves evacuate their bowels. Slaves who are being punished are thus sometimes plugged or, as in our case, flushed regularly with enemas. The enemas themselves can also be used as a punishment, stretching a girl's belly, inflicting pain as well as humiliation at her utter helplessness. Chilled enemas can be particularly effective, making a girl shiver, her teeth chattering around her gag as she is cooled from the core; enemas provide fluid too ensuring a slave can be kept gagged for days at a time without becoming dehydrated; of course, a slave's mouth has other uses too so even if she is not permitted to drink, a slave's gag is sometimes removed to allow her to pleasure the very mistress that is punishing her; such treatment is sometimes used to condition a slave to her mistress when she is being trained or newly acquired, ensuring the only thing she tastes, sometimes for days or even weeks at a time is her mistress' pussy. I can say from personal experience that a girl quickly learns to looks forward to the salt tang of her mistress' sex and rehearses diligently to ensure she provides prolonged and very satisfying cunnelingus.

However, Mistress' pussy is very definitely off her slaves' menu at the moment. I expect she has been enjoying the pleasures of Nipple's enormous breasts and extremely talented tongue or perhaps has taken Madam Equa to her bed. I watched Madam Equa writhe under the whip during her punishment which took place as we awaited ours and the only sounds that escaped around her gag were moans of lust.


TIFFANY

Nipple clamped blonde has just been lead past me for a third time and pony brunette has just trotted past again. They have obviously upgraded the software because the brunette is now pulling her blonde groom in gig rather than simply being lead along.

I am kneeling on a plinth in the middle of Subtown's main drag where it intersects with another street, another change. I am chained here by my collar with my wrists cuffed behind my back.

For me this is a free trip to Subtown, something went wrong with the programme last time I was here and the whole site was shut down; this may have the work of ordinary hackers but I wonder if it was something to do with the Reivers.

Pulse gave me a voucher.

As I came out early I have no memory of what happened. I hope I met Mistress and I hope she is safe though I think she must be because when I entered the sim this time I was given a costume to wear rather than choose my own. It consists of a rubber bra and knickers and a collar with the words Sex Toy on; I think Mistress must have supplied this. I am wearing knee high toe boots too.

The knickers are split crotch and I know that as I kneel with my head chained down and my bottom in the air everyone who comes past can see my pussy and they can probably all tell how horny being kept like this is making me. Having my nipples poking through the peep hole bra does nothing to quell my excitement.

A sharp slap on my bottom makes me jerk against my chain leash; I try to turn but, chained like this, I cannot see who delivered it.

I hope it is Mistress.

Fingers brush against my thigh and I turn again to see a beautiful oriental girl wearing only a pair of shiny red thigh boots. She smiles and strokes my bottom with the crop that she has just used to strike me.

'Pretty.'

'Thank you, Mistress.' Here I am slave. I think it is how I should respond.

'Well trained too.' She has a typical oriental accent, struggling to enunciate the 'r' in 'trained'.

'I am waiting for my Mistress, Mistress.' It sounds strange to say it.

'Oh, but you called me Mistress just now.' She stops stroking my rubber clad bottom and comes to stand before me tapping the crop into her other hand. Her body is sweet and, for an oriental she has lovely big breasts with huge dark brown nipples. 'And my boots really do need cleaning.'

Her boots are beautiful and shiny and, at any other time I would be delighted to worship them.

I am aware of a movement beside me and, glancing across I see Madam, or at least a Madam.

'My mistress will be here soon.' I tell the Oriental Girl.

She grabs my hair and pulls my head back. 'Then you'd better work on my boots quickly unless you want to be punished.'

'Yes, Mistress.' There is nothing I can do, and her boots really do look quite delicious; besides, her dominance excites me.

She lifts her foot onto the plinth to which I am chained and I lower my head. As I begin to lick her lovely shiny boots the taste and smell of leather wash over. I begin with to toe and then move to the instep. Standing with one foot up her pussy is very close to my face and I think that by squirming forward I might be able to lick that too.

I as a sex toy and have little choice over who might play with me.

I am made to give pleasure.

I crawl slightly forward and run my tongue up the spike of her stiletto heel.

'Mmmmm, good girl.' I am sure she pushes her hips forwards, her crotch brushes against my hair.

I crawl forward again pushing out my tongue, licking the soft shaved skin of her pubis and feel her stroke my hair. 'Looks like I won't have to punish you after all.' She leans forward to tap my bottom with her whip and I lick her with even more enthusiasm, pushing my tongue between her thighs and tasting salt.

A sharp blow to my bottom makes me start.

'You'll have to find your own toy to play with.' It is Mistress.

'I saw her first.' Oriental Girl is defiant.

'She's mine.' I sense the edge in Mistress' voice that leave no room for doubt. I have been in some pretty tense situations. I know when people are bluffing of displaying bravado. Mistress is not bluffing.

'Want to fight me for her ?' Oriental Girl steps back and hold up her whip.

'No.' Again Mistress leave me in no room for doubt. Her possessiveness excites me.

I watch as Oriental Girl lifts he whip.

There is a blur of motion and Mistress has her by the hair, head pulled back, body arched. Mistress holds the whip against Oriental Girl's throat. It is not the tactic I would have used, it is a position that leaves you way too open but it makes a very point.

Oriental Girl is clearly frightened.

'Go.' Mistress brings the whip down on Oriental Girl's breasts and then pushes her away. I watch her stumble and then stand straight, walking away with as much dignity as she can. Her bottom is as beautiful as her breasts.

'Now, young lady.' Mistress stands before me. She is as beautiful and perfect as I remember, a reflection of Tiffany, a reflection currently dressed in lacy red lingerie deliciously packaged in a transparent PVC coat that hides nothing of her beauty; I can see her lacy red garters holding up her stockings and her shiny red stiletto heels. I look up to see her frown. 'I think you need to be taught a lesson.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I can't help smiling. Mistress' has chosen a costume for me, a costume that is so deliciously humiliating it excites me, she has demonstrated a determination to own me too.

I am in love.


I am back in tight bondage and the feeling is exquisite. I am lying on my back on a low table in Mistress' house. She has once again used ropes to bind me and as I squirm in pleasure I hear them creak and feel them bite into the flesh of my wrists and arms, tighten around my spread thighs and my crossed, booted ankles, there is even a noose around my throat above my wonderfully humiliating collar that tightens deliciously when I lift my head.



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The position seems delightfully familiar.

I have six stripes on my bare belly where Mistress has punished me for my brief relationship with Oriental Girl.

Such treatment has confirmed my love for Mistress even more and I have pleasured her twice to thank her. She seems so relaxed tonight, sitting beside me now still wearing her bra and stockings. Her wine glass sits on the table beside me. She has tied cords around my nipples and is using these to tease me, using them to stretch my breasts, to lift them to her tongue when she bends to kiss them. There is a knotted rope pressing hard against my pussy and each time I struggle it rubs my sex, teasing me; Mistress has been using a vibrator too, pushing it against my sex and even leaving it tucked into the crotch rope. She has been careful not to let me come.

'I expect you're ready to come.' She smiles down at me.

'No, Mistress.' I lie. 'Not yet.'

'You are a very naughty girl.' Mistress picks up the whip and strikes me on the belly. The pain dissolves into the fire burning in my loins, stoking it. I am so close to orgasm I am surprised that the blow itself does not send me over the edge. A second blow takes me closer especially as I squirm, making the knotted crotch rope rub my sex and lift my head feeling the noose around my throat tighten above my collar.

'Please, Mistress.'

She looks down at me, dominant and beautiful.

'Please let me come.'

I see her smile.

'Open wide.'

I obey and she puts the whip between my teeth.

'If your a good girl I'll use my knickers to gag you later.'

I watch her kneel beside me. If I move I know I will come. She takes a sip of wine and brushes her hair back.

She is magnificent.

Then she pours wine into my navel.

'It really is a shame you can't drink.' She bends and licks my belly.

I come almost immediately, squirming and shrieking with pleasure, the knotted rope against my crotch rubs mercilessly and, seemingly insatiably and I can feel the tightness around my throat.


I am pleasing Mistress again, my tongue running freely over the warm softness of her sex, flicking the little ring that pierces her clitoris. I have more stripes on my belly and Mistress has tightened my bonds so that my body is an exaggerated bow, a cushion now under the small of my back lifting my sex. The top of my head now almost touches the floor and Mistress kneels on the carpet with her knees spread to allow me full access to her sex. She has removed her bra and, before presenting me with her sex, she allowed me to suckle her lovely big nipples. I am fascinated by the rings piercing them and I know she takes great pleasure from me flicking them with my tongue. I want to ask whey she is pierced and plan to do so when I have finished pleasuring her. The worst than can happen, I reason, is that she will punish me again and I'm so horny I would thorughly enjoy it.

I push my tongue inside her in a way I know she likes and then brush her clit with my lips, kissing it and its piercing ring. She moans and I do it again, feeling her squirm and press her hips forward. I use my teeth the hold the little gold ring, tugging on it gently.

'Naughty girl.' She murmurs but I know she doesn't mean it.

Her fingers start toy with my nipples and then she gathers up the cords binding them pulling them with one hand as her other slides into my rubber knickers. I squirm and feel her jerk the cords on my nipples.

'Keep your mind on the job.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I pause for a moment and then circle her clit with my tongue.

'Good girl.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

She tugs on my nipple cords again and I fall silent applying my tongue diligently to her hot wet sex.

When she starts to come I feel her tremble slightly and one of her hands goes behind my head, grasping my hair, pulling my face harder against her sex. I continue to tease her, tongue inside her, lips pressed against her soft labia. The cord around my throat is tight and her sex smothers me. I remember for a moment my ordeal on the vacuum bed and shudder with pleasure but she is lost in her orgasm, hips bucking, her stockinged thighs spasming on either side of my head; there is a sharp jerk on my nipples but I do not think she is teasing me, it is simply the way her body is responding.

Her orgasm takes much longer than the first two; it seems Mistress is a woman who enjoys pleasure to its fullest, liking to draw out her climaxes. Although my head is swimming from the tight cord around my neck and the way her sex is smothering me I don't want to stop pleasing her and I continue to push my tongue inside her and kiss her sex.

She is still climaxing when I lose consciousness.


When I come round I am still in bondage. She sits beside me, still gloriously naked aside from her stockings and garters. She is sipping her wine and looking down at me with her lovely blue eyes.

'I'm sorry, Mistress.' It is all I can think to say. Perhaps we are lucky that Madam did not intervene. Presumably the programme recognised my distress.

'You lasted long enough.' She smiles and sips her wine.

I love her.

'Your turn I think.' She puts her wine down and bends to pick something up.

'But...'

But she holds a finger to her lips. 'Open wide.'

I obey and she slips her lacy red knickers into my mouth then I watch as she unclips of one of her sheer stockings from its garter and slides if down her leg. She uses the stocking to tie the knickers in my mouth. It is not the most effective gag I have ever worn but it is the most delicious.

She takes off her second stocking leaving only her garters the stands.

'What do you think ?' She poses for me naked save the two red bands around her thighs. I look up at her magnificent body with its full breasts and firm bottom and want to throw myself at her feet. She bends over me and I long to kiss her lovely pierced nipples but then she puts the second stocking over my eyes blindfolding me.

Helplessly bound, blindfolded and gagged I lie there at her mercy. I feel her pick up the cords binding my nipples and murmur with pleasure through my gag. Then she begins to fiddle with the crotchrope. I really want to come and if she carries on like this I will very quickly. I wonder if I am allowed but frankly this is one area I am not going to be able to obey her and if I do come without permission I will have to endure whatever punishment she chooses to inflict.

I tremble with pleasure at the thought.

I feel the crotchrope fall a way and whimper.

Surely she can't be untying me.

Surely she will let me come.

'You have permission to come.'

I squirm but there is nothing to squirm against. Perhaps if she were to play with my nipples I could manage it.

I shout into my gag in frustration.

And then something brushes against my sex.

I strain against my bonds trying to make it happen again.

It does.

I know is Mistress' tongue.

I cry out with pleasure thrusting my sex out.

Her hand rests on my right thigh pushing it a little further out and she pulls on my nipple cords.

'There's no rush.' Her voice is playful. 'We have all night.'

She might not be in a rush.

'Bleashheee.' I plead around my gag.

'Well.' She is almost purring with pleasure now. 'If you insist.'

She pushes her tongue through the rubber slit in my knickers and flicks my clitoris. I squeal with delight. She teases me again and then begins to lick my labia using the cords on my nipples to tease my breasts.

I am Mistress' helpless sex toy and I am going to come very soon. She has been teasing me all night, having me dressed me as her slut before displaying me in the centre of subtown then making me crawl at he heel on my chain leash to her home, then keeping me in bondage, humiliating me using me for her pleasure, her sex toy.

I climax hard, bucking in my bonds, enjoying the way the cord around my neck tightens again. Madam has not interfered so far and I don't think she will this time. I am truly helpless, the sex slave I want to be, owned.

I keep climaxing until I pass out for the second time that evening.


'What a good little sex toy you are.' Mistress is sitting on the sofa beside me, naked apart from her red silken garters. I am still bound to the table.

She has nearly finished her wine.

She runs her foot over my belly and then wiggles her toes against my sex making me squirm.

We are both very satisfied.

Mistress has come five times and I have been permitted three orgasms and punished with the whip across my breasts and between my thighs for an unapproved fourth. It was this which lead to Mistress' fifth.

Her foot comes back up my body, pausing to tease one of my nipples before her toes caress my lips and I kiss them.

Her toenails are painted a delightful shiny red.

'I suppose I will have to let you go in a minute.'

'Yes, Mistress.' I am suddenly sad. 'I wish I could stay here as your slave.'

'We will meet again.'

'I hope so, Mistress.'

She begins to untie me and even when she is finished I lie still enjoying the last of my bondage wishing I could stay with her.

'Come along, Slave.' She is standing above me and I quickly struggle off the table, dropping to my knees, hoping she will attach the leash to my collar and make me crawl beside her to the portal.

'Well ?'

I look up.

'Dress me.' She is standing naked in front of me.

'Yes, Mistress.'

I scurry to collect her lingerie, starting with the stockings. She sits as I gather the fine material and then slide it over her toes with their lovely shiny painted nails, then I gently pull it up her leg enjoying the softness of her skin against my fingers; finally I clip the stocking top to the garter. I am aware that her sex is only a little further but then I feel the signs of the session ending, the wave of dizziness and nausea.

The other stocking has been in my mouth and is damp.

'I'm sorry, Mistress.'

'I will have to punish you next time we meet.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

She puts on her own bra and, still on my knees I offer her the knickers which are soaking wet where they have been used as my gag.

'Oh, I have a much better use for those.' She pushes them into my mouth again and then pulls on her transparent PVC coat and slips her feet into her stilettos.

Finally she picks up my leash and clips it to my collar.

Although I would enjoy the humiliation of walking on the toe boots, I know i have limited time and, besides, I would rather be made to crawl.

'Come along.'

On all fours I follow her out into the street holding Mistress' knickers in my mouth.


'You may remove your gag.'

I pull the knickers from my mouth, holding them in my hand, a physical reminder of her.

'May I see you again, Mistress ?' I am kneeling beside my portal.

'We will meet again.'

'Tonight ?' I cannot keep the eagerness from my voice. I feel like a teenager with a crush.

'Not for a few days.' She smiles sadly. 'I have things to do. I need to wind up my affairs.'

'You're dying ?' I am almost heartbroken but I realise she could be anyone int the real.

'No.' She laughs, stroking my hair. 'My affairs here in Subtown.' She seems amused at my assumption but then I can see her blinking back tears; real tears, another mod.

'Could we meet...' I gesture to the portal with my head.

'You know that's not possible. Anyway, I'm going to Utolia.'

My heart breaks. I wish I could cry.

'My name is...' I try to say Tuesday but can't. 'Oh, Mistress...' I bend to kiss feet her but another wave of nausea washes over me and I reel, glad I am on my knees or I would certainly have fallen.

'Go !'

'Yes, Mistress.' I blink back tears that will not come and turn. I cannot bear the thought that I will forget her. With my heart full of grief I crawl through the portal.



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'My name is Lust.' At least I think this is what she says as the reality of Subtown dissolves and I am back in the entrance suite.


Chapter 6

SPARKLE

Today it is Madam Equa's turn to punish us and, after the tight confines of our cages we hang spreadeagled in the stable yard, both naked aside from our collars and cuffs, linked by a short chain between our clit rings that means we have to arch slightly in our bonds to relieve the strain on our intimate piercings. Silver's nipple rings are chained to the ends of my bit gag and mine to hers so that any movement we make under Madam Equa's punishment is, to some degree, transmitted to the other. It is clear we are going to be whipped, probably quite soundly and I know from experience that a girl in this position is tempted to arch her neck in response to each lash. Silver, I know, has a particular tendency to do this so I know that my nipples will be sore even before we are turned round to allow our breasts to be whipped.

It is a cold bright morning and I can see the clouds of vapour produced by the breath of those who have turned out to watch and, no doubt enjoy, our suffering. The sun on my back just about stops me shivering but I can feel goosebumps all over and my nipples are stiffly erect. At least the fire of the urticant wand has faded from our breasts. It is not the day to be out naked unless, as is usual, we are training or running between the shafts of a gig. Later the heat of the sun will be intense and I have little doubt we will be left here longing for the cool of evening.

Mistress is, this morning wrapped in a woolen cloak, standing beautiful and stern beside Madam Equa who is clad in her usual leather. The two stand closer than I like and the smiles they exchange are almost more painful to endure than our physical punishments. Mistress holds Nipple's leash, clipped to her clit ring. The slave is ring gagged, sheathed and harnessed, each of her huge breasts pinched gently at the bases by a steel ring so that they are slightly dusky; her nipples like ours are stiff and, I notice, both clamped and hung with weights. That she appears to be enduring even this small degree of punishment offers me a crumb of comfort, perhaps she has not entirely pleased Mistress Desire.

I suspect there are those among the crowd who watch our humiliation that will enjoy it intensely, not simply from the erotic sadism it will vicariously provide but for the pleasure of seeing Silver and I suffer. As Mistress' favoured pets we are popular but being the intimate toys of Mistress Desire can elicit jealousy. If our detractors are very lucky and their mistresses permit (only a slave could be jealous of another slave) they may be allowed to experience the pleasure of beating us themselves; I would not be too surprised if, at the end of our whipping a crop or tawse was hung from one of our nipples or clits and left for use by any who chose to employ it. At least the blows from a chained slave are likely to lack power even if they will be intensely humiliating. Unfortunately, the blows from their mistresses are likely to be far stronger as they compete to make Silver and I cry out around our gags thereby showing their loyalty to Mistress Desire.

I see Madam Equa draw her whip from the top of her boot and start towards us. I look at Silver, her blue eyes show eloquent distress yet, even in this there is the mischevous sparkle that I love and I see that smile play on her lips that tells me she loves the world in which we live as much as I do.


TUESDAY

They came in the night. The first thing Tuesday knew was the explosion at her front door and the sound of boots. She took a deep breath ready for the nerve gas that would leave her unconscious and slid from her bed crouching low but she never made the window. Strong hands grabbed her from the darkness, presumably aided by IR goggles.

She didn't stand a chance, naked and surrounded. Armoured troopers pushed her to her knees and bound her wrists behind her back before she could even struggle. Then she was thrown onto her belly and her ankles crossed and bound; a hood followed, strapped tight, the rubber plug filling her mouth, a preferred option to losing her teeth; then came the custody collar, locked snugly around her throat to allow them to monitor her vitals and deliver a stun charge should she escape and struggle.

To be fair on them, it was exactly how she would have done it.


Tuesday sat, naked, astride some sort of elongated stool a little like the saddle of a police bike a sensation reinforced by the narrow bars supporting her feet. The seat was angled forwards forcing her to hold herself in position with her legs or slide off the leather seat onto a thin steel bar I front of it, a painful prospect for her bare sex. Her ankles were cuffed in place to prevent her climbing off or adopting a more comfortable position. Her arms were restrained behind her in what felt like a single sleeve, probably, from its stiffness, one made from heavy reinforced leather the wrist strap of which was suspended at the level of her shoulders also forcing her to lean forward, the position calculated to put a strain on her captive body, adding to the burden on her thighs; a position of vulnerability. The custody collar was still locked around her throat and she still wore the leather hood that the troopers had locked in place when they had taken her.

She wasn't sure how long she had been left like this but outside the sim it was surprising how tiring it was to maintain such a position and how much her muscles ached.

She had tried bondage in the real of course but had soon realised she preferred it in the sim. In any other circumstance she might have enjoyed it rather more.

Finally she heard the door open, a door that sounded very much like the steel door to a standard custody cell though her restraints were very much not standard. She heard footsteps, heeled boots, stilettos clicking.

The door closed with a clang that was loud even through the leather of the hood.

There was silence for a moment then she jumped as something stroked her back, something firm but slightly yielding.

It felt more like a whip than a cane.

Tuesday shuddered.

Fingers began to undo her hood and she waited until finally is was pulled free of her head, in a rush of air, cold against the hot sweaty skin of her face. She could feel her hair plastered to her scalp and when she looked up could see her flushed face still showing indentations from the hood and her limp, damp hair in the oneway mirror of the cell; there was saliva on her chin and the custody collar.

The figure standing beside her was dressed in black, tight leather from head to foot, a catsuit that clung to an obviously female form, long legs, firm buttocks, slim waist, surprisingly full breasts; a long leather coat hung open; the woman appeared to older than Tuesday, perhaps in her early forties; she was a redhead, her face pale, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses; it was indeed a whip she was holding.

She recognised Major Black.

Tuesday worked her jaw and tongue for a moment trying to regain some semblance of control over them while at the same time trying to prevent more saliva from running down her chin. Major Black regarded her with what appeared to be amusement.

'Not exactly standard police procedure, Major.' Tuesday was stiff and uncomfortable.

'I'm not standard police as you well know.' Major Black smiled. 'Besides, I thought you might enjoy it.'

'Why would you think that ?' Tuesday felt an ache in her belly. She knew what was coming and the woman had a point, the bondage was well devised, lovely predicaments, it was just a lot harder in the real.

She knew she should be terrified but there was a part of her that was aroused by this.

The Major's hand shot into Tuesday's hair, her gloved fist yanking Tuesday's head back and turning it slightly to face her.

'Don't play games with me, Morgan.'

Tuesday felt her body respond as it always did in these situations a warmth in her loins and a tingling in her nipples.

'You seem to be the one playing games.' She was emboldened by her arousal. 'Quite kinky ones I might add.'

Black brought tip of her whip up under Tuesday's chin. 'Lieutenant Morgan...Tuesday. You don't mind if I call you Tuesday do you ? Perhaps you prefer Tiffany.'

That settled it. The major knew everything.

Tuesday smiled in spite of herself. She had always known this day would come.

In spite of her position, Tuesday smiled.

'Call me whatever you like, Mistress.'

The major's expression changed; it was hard to tell exactly how behind the mirrored glasses.

'Your captain says you're a good police officer.' Black looked down at her and Tuesday could see her own reflection in the woman's mirrored sunglasses, her flushed face and damp hair, small breasts bare, her blatantly swollen nipples. 'And you certainly performed well in that raid a few days ago.'

'You didn't have to go to all these lengths to thank me.' Tuesday's voice was strained from her bondage, from the other woman's fist in her hair. 'You could have just sent me a memo.'

The major frowned. 'Your captain also said you lack respect for authority.'

'Oh, he's wrong. I've got respect for authority.' Tuesday licked her lips. 'If you let poor little Tiffany down she'll lick those lovely leather boots of yours.' She made passable attempt at a lascivious gesture with her tongue.

'You've been a very naughty girl, Lieutenant.' Major Black's words made Tuesday's eyes widen.

'Oooo, Major.' Tuesday couldn't help grinning. Her sex was dripping despite the implications of the situation. 'Going to spank me ?'

'I think we've got a little beyond the spanking stage.' Major Black was still very close, her gloved fist still in Tuesday's hair or was it Tiffany's, Tuesday could feel the lines between her two selves blurring. The major lowered the whip tucking it in her boot, released her grip on the captive; she slipped her hands into the pockets or her leather coat. 'I'm sure you're familiar with Statute 27, Section 2 concerning uniformed personnel and the use of Simulated Recreational Environments.'

'I hope you're not implying I've interfaced with an SRE.' Tuesday's shoulders and thighs were aching and her neck felt stiff but her nipples were like bullets and, if she stayed here much longer the leather saddle was going to become too slippery for her tired thighs to hold her position.

'I don't need to imply anything. I know exactly what you've been up to.' Major Black smiled. 'Everything.'

The way she spoke confirmed Tuesday's suspicions that other woman's engagement in the interrogation, assuming that was what it was, was more than strictly business.

'Everything ?' Tuesday glanced sideways at the woman. 'You really are kinky.'

Tuesday jerked as the custody collar discharged, pain sparking along her nerves, her muscles tensing involuntarily. 'Fuck !'

'Tougher than you thought in the real ?' The major brandished the control to the custody collar.

'A little.' It had hurt a lot but Tuesday was still aroused.

'Perhaps you'd prefer me to use the whip ?'

'You choose, Mistress.'

The collar sparked again and Tuesday gasped, jerking in her bonds.

'The DPP takes a very dim view of any violation involving service personnel and SREs. As with any other state official it's too much of a risk to security. You're looking at discharge with dishonour and imprisonment for three to five years; but then perhaps you'd rather enjoy being in prison; as much bondage and humiliation as you can endure at the taxpayer's expense.'

'What do you want ?'

Major Black smiled. 'I want to send you to prison. You've committed a very serious crime. Who knows what corrupted code has been uploaded to your perverted little brain. You could be a sleeper agent for any number of criminal organisations. Using an unlicensed portal is probably more of a security risk than an approved one.'

'You could have sent me down already yet here I am in your own little S&M playroom. You must want something.' Tuesday grinned. 'Or perhaps you've seen what I get up to and want to try out a little S&M yourself.'

'Oh, Lieutenant, you've no idea.' Major Black's voice softened and she ran the whip up Tuesday's belly, stopping just below the captive girl's nipple. 'I want a full confession and the names of any other officers involved.'



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'There was nobody else.'

'Sure ?' The major's fist slipped back into Tuesday's hair and the whip came up raking over her nipple. She got the distinct impression that Major Black was about to use it on her.

'Nobody else.' Tuesday tried to keep her voice steady.

'And do you admit entering a SRE through and unlicensed portal while a serving officer ?'

'There doesn't seem much point in denying it.'

'Good girl.' Major Black released Tuesday's hair and stepped away from her. 'Now that we've cleared the air, let's talk business.'


Tuesday squirmed in her restraints. She had been kept naked and chained since being sent to her cell by Major Black; wrists cuffed behind her back, ankles chained. She had been taken out daily, perhaps nightly, probably both, for interrogation, usually in the saddle. Aside from the constant bondage, she had suffered little physical torture, no significant whippings or beatings despite the major's obvious pleasure in threatening her with the whip, just repeated questions to ensure she is not hiding more, not a Reiver.

However, the process had been exhausting and, when returned to her cell where she was left chained to the floor by the custody collar, the short chain limiting her movement, preventing her from standing, she had fallen asleep almost instantly.

Waking naturally on the fourth morning of her imprisonment her captive body needed satisfaction. Somehow in the night her left leg had become tangled in the chain by which her collar was locked to the floor and on waking she had found it pressed firmly and rather insistently against her sex. In the warmth of her half waking, half dreaming state she gently moved her hips making the chain run gently between the already wet folds of her labia.

After three days in bondage the sensation was delicious and, despite her situation or perhaps, if she was really willing to admit it, because of it her body craved orgasm. In other situations she might have enjoyed such treatment considerably more; this sort of thing was available in simulation and she had tried it once but had quickly learned that shorter, intense periods of bondage and punishment were more satisfying and cheaper.

Her arousal building, Tuesday rolled onto her back straightening her left leg around which the chain was entangled and felt the pull on her collar as well as the pressure of the links as they slid between her legs; lifting her hips and arching her back increased the sensation and she closed her eyes biting down gently on her lip and working her hips. Rolling again wrapped the chain more tightly around her thigh and wedged it into her sex, the pressure of the chain under her pubis was exquisite and her nipples rubbed perfectly on a small, slightly rough ridge in the floor.

She came hard, gasping, grinding her hips and her nipples against the steel on which she lay the pleasure suffusing her body, driving out its stiffness and any anxieties; then, satisfied she rolled onto her side, curling into a ball as far as her bonds would allow, eking out the sensation of pleasure.


The arrival of breakfast disturbed her repose, a steel bowl pushed through a small hatch in the door to her cell and she struggled to her knees untangling the chain from her leg. She had been fed but only sparingly and was hungry. With the chain to her collar too short to allow her to stand she was forced to crawl awkwardly towards the food and with her hands chained behind her back the only way to eat was to bend over the bowl and lap at the porridge with her tongue, trying her best not to get it on her face or in her hair. It didn't take her long to lick the bowl clean and then she crawled over to the hole in the floor over which she squatted to relieve herself.


'What do you know about Utolia ?' Major Black was still dressed from head to foot in black leather and still wearing her sunglasses.

They were back in the interrogation room.

'As much as anyone.' Tuesday stood with her legs spread wide, ankles shackled to the floor, she was bent forward at the waist, arms still chained behind her back and now pulled towards the ceiling by a chain; her collar was once again chained to the floor so that her head was just below the level of her hips.

'Lieutenant, Tuesday...if you continue in this manner I will have no alternative but to send you back to your cell and have you imprisoned for your crimes.' Major Black brought the whip down hard on the prisoner's bottom, another red mark crossing the dozen of so that were already there. 'I'm sure neither of us wants that to happen.'

'No, Ma'am.' Tuesday still struggled to believe how much it hurt to be whipped in the real.

'Good girl.' Major Black stroked the whip over Tuesday's bottom. 'Now, tell me about Utolia.'

'It's a SRE, the SRE. High fidelity, coding so detailed that it's said to be just like the real. Entry starts at ten thousand dollars... There are nine lands with a variety of themes...'

'What do you know about Erolia ?'

Tuesday smiled. 'Mediaeval themed world; population is mostly women though there are a few men, popular needless to say with lesbians especially those with an S&M interest, lots of slavery, bondage...my sort of place really. Your's too, I'll bet, or perhaps you'd prefer Domania.'

There was another slap as the whip landed hard on Tuesday's bottom.

'I demand complete loyalty and obedience from my operatives.'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

'Perhaps these will remind you to behave.' Major Black produced a pair of toothed clamps from her coat pocket and applied them to Tuesdays nipples.

Tuesday gasped as the bit into her sensitive flesh.

'Hurt, don't they ?'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

'You'll wear them until you learn more obedience.' Major Black smiled. 'And if they don't work, I have one for your clitoris too.'

'I'll be a good girl, Ma'am.'

'I'm glad you feel that way. I am considering whether to dispatching you on a mission to Erolia.'

Tuesday looked up in surprise. 'Tiffany will definitely lick those shiny boots of yours if you promise to send her there.'

'Hmmm...' Major Black frowned and left the room leaving Tiffany to contemplate her throbbing nipples.


'Please, Ma'am.' Tiffany was kneeling in what she assumed must be Major Black's office; she was chained by her collar to a ring in the floor and hands were still shackled behind her back. She had just crawled from her cell, where she has spent the night hooded and naked, lead by the chain from her collar as she always was when moved to and from her cell.

The office was austere, steel floor and walls like the cells and the interrogation room, a desk, a metal chair, a stand for a coat and a set of steel shelves. Strangely there was no monitor or computer link.

'Yes ?' Major Black sat behind a desk, looking up from the papers the was reading. Her coat hung from a stand beside the desk but she still wore the tight black leather catsuit and her sunglasses.

'My nipples really are very sore, Ma'am. Please can you take these clamps off.' She had been wearing them for at least twenty four hours and her nipples were throbbing painfully a torment worsened by every movement.

'I'm not sure you've learned your lesson yet.'

'Honestly, Ma'am, I have.'

'A little longer, I think.' Major Black turned over a sheet of paper

'Yes, Ma'am.' Tiffany bowed her head looking down at her throbbing nipples; her flesh was raw where the teeth bit into it and the skin around was bruised.

After a few minutes she glanced up. Major Black was still reading the paper notes.

Tuesday smiled and crawled slowly forward. The Major's slim legs were crossed under the desk and Tuesday knew she could reach the woman's shiny boots with their spiked heels. Reaching the desk she ducked her head below it and ran her tongue along the instep of he Major's right boot. The position was just at the limit of her neck chain and as she strained against it she could feel the collar press against the front of her throat.

'I don't recall giving you permission to move.' The major did not look up.

'I'm sorry, Ma'am.' Tuesday ran her tongue up the front of the major's boot almost to the knee. 'I wanted to demonstrate my loyalty and obedience.'

'Your diligence is noted, Lieutenant, but you must not confuse your submissive fetishes with your duties.'

'Forgive me, Mi... Ma'am.' Tuesday knelt up.

'That being said, perhaps we could test your resolve.' Major Black stood and walked round the desk, Tuesday watching from where she knelt. The woman was tall and svelte and radiated dominance. The major stopped in front of the kneeling girl and perched her tight leather-covered bottom on the edge of the desk.

'You may begin.'

Tuesday leaned forward, her nipple chain clicking on the steel floor as she pressed her lips against the major's shiny black boots; then, cautiously she began to lick them, running her tongue over the slick shiny leather, caressing first the top of the woman's foot and then her ankle, finally her calf.

'Don't neglect the other one.' The major's voice wavered slightly as she spoke.

'Of course not, Mistress.'

There was no response to her error.

Tuesday pressed her lips to the major's left boot, then ran her tongue over the top of the woman's foot. As she did so the major moved her right foot, pressing the toe onto Tuesday's nipple chain.

Tuesday froze.

'Continue !'

She began again, keeping her chest low to avoid pulling on her clamped nipples.

'A little higher now.' The major sounded slightly breathless. 'I want all my boot cleaned.'

Tuesday hesitated for a moment and then, cautiously lifted herself a little more, applying gently tension in her clamped nipples though the pain made her want to cry out.

Major black said nothing for a few minutes.

'Higher still.'

Tuesday lifted herself again suppressing a cry as she did so, her breasts now stretched painfully.

'Right to the knee.'

Tuesday hesitated again, but only a moment, her tongue was lapping just below the top of the major's boots and as she straightened a little more she licked at the woman's leather-clad legs.

It felt as if her nipples were about to be torn off and she blinked back tears.

'Shame to stop there.' Major Black lifted her foot allowing Tuesday to lap a little higher, her tongue coming to the woman's mid thigh.

'Enough.' Major Black put her foot down again and Tuesday squealed, following obediently, lead by her throbbing nipples, kneeling with her head down.

'Lie on your back.' Major Black stepped away lifting her foot off Tuesday's nipple chain.

Tuesday obeyed immediately, rolling onto the steel floor, lying on her cuffed wrists.

'Spread your legs.'

Again, Tuesday obeyed pleased with herself as Major Black walked to her coat.

The Major reached into her coat pocket and pulled out another clamp, similar to those on Tuesday's nipples; it was attached to a chain that had a clip on the other end.

Returning to the supine blonde Major Black squatted, the leather of her catsuit and boots creaking and slipped a gloved hand between Tuesday's spread legs. The helpless girl was wet, her labia slick and, when the major stroked her clitoris she whimpered, though not in pain.

As Major Black attached the clip to Tuesday's clitoris the blonde's eyes widened but she did not cry out, even when the major clipped the end of the clit chain to her nipple chain stretching both and making Tuesday's heavily abused nipples burn.

'Kneel up.'

Tuesday obeyed, rolling onto her knees easily after being kept in bondage for so long; the pain this caused in her clamped nipples almost made her scream and now the clamp on her clit added to this.

'Now, where were we ?' The major leant back against her desk and guided Tuesday's head towards the front of her thigh. 'Continue.'

'Yes, Mistress.' Tuesday smiled despite the tension in her nipples and cit then began to lick once again at the woman's thighs. She was close to orgasm.


Tuesday knelt back and looked up expectantly at Major Black. The redhead's usually pale cheeks were flushed and her neatly gathered hair had come away so that wisps floated around her face; her breathing was rapid too. Clearly aroused, the woman reached up to unzip the front of her catsuit, exposing her generous breasts and a toned belly that suggested many hours in the gym. Then she shrugged out of the leather garment revealing honed shoulders and muscular arms.



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You, Major, Tiffany thought, need to consider some R&R. You are spending way too much time in the gym.

Naked to the waist, the major pulled her chair round her desk to set it in front of Tuesday and then slid the catsuit down her legs to the top of her boots; her pubic hair was the same deep red as the hair on her head. Sitting down she spread her legs and motioned Tuesday forward.

'I own you.'

'Yes, Mistress.' Tuesday smiled and pushed her tongue into Major Black's very wet pussy.


Tuesday crawled behind Major Black, her chain leash looped around the woman's fingers. The taste of the redhead still filled her senses and looking up at her captor's leather clad bottom she thought it swung just a little more than it had before. She smiled and then bowed her head again, following the woman's heels as they clicked on the steel floor.

After pleasuring the redhead she had finally been released from the clamps that had tortured her nipples for the last twenty four hours, a sensation that was far worse then the pain of their application and she had fought back an expletive as the Major had removed them. Despite her forebearance, the major had gagged her anyway, pushing a big rubber ball gag into her mouth and then tightening the strap behind her head. However, the major had not replaced her hood. Then her wrists had been freed briefly before being cuffed in front of her to allow her to crawl on all fours.

They reached Tiffany's cell and Major Black lead her inside, bending to chain her captive's leash to the ring set in the floor.

'Kneel up.'

'Esh, Ishdress.' Still gagged, Tiffany obeyed resting her hands on her thighs and Major Black once again cuffed her prisoner's wrists behind her back.

'You will require training, of course.' Major Black looked around the cell as she spoke though there was nothing but bare steel walls. 'Enforcing in a SRE is a little different to standard policing. However, you clearly have a talent for this so six months should probably be enough.'

'Esh, Ishdress.' Tiffany nodded watching as Major Black stepped through the cell door and it slid closed behind her, locking itself in place.

Tiffany smiled around her gag.


TUESDAY

I am strapped down to a padded examination couch in what looks like a medical room, watching as a blonde nurse pulls on a pair of rubber gloves. I am naked, of course, straps across my throat, chest, belly, thighs, ankles, wrists and upper arms. I am gagged.

The nurse turns to me; she is a strikingly beautiful, blonde, blue eyes with long lashes, white teeth and rouged lips; she has big breasts and long legs; every teenager's fantasy; her short nursing dress is made of white rubber and when she bends slightly forward I can see the bottom of her knickers, her stockings are white rubber too and her heels are at least five inches.

'I'm just going to examine you.' She smiles radiantly. 'I hope you don't mind.'

Gagged and strapped naked to the trolley I can hardly object but I smile and nod obligingly.

She is one of the Utolia security protocols, like Madam in Subtown but way more sophisticated and way more desirable.

The Simulated Recreational Environments may have started with a more laudable aim but they very quickly became sources of the commodity that all adults want: relationships and. particularly, sexual relationships. Sex sells, good sex sells faster, and the SREs all provide good sex in almost any from you can to name; there are some taboos of course, but there are illegal environments out there that will cater for them.

Utolia is the pinnacle of virtual reality, every nuance, every bodily function lovingly recreated in simulated form; the security protocols, 'Guardians' as they are known are the (very pretty) faces through which the outside world sees the land in which the rich can be beautiful all their lives.

The blonde starts with my hair, running her fingers through it. Though she is not really my type, I am in bondage and gagged and the way she touches me and the scent of her rubber clothes excites me so that by the time her hands probe my breasts my nipples are standing to attention and my pussy is soaking wet. She smiles reassuringly and with a hint of playfulness as she pinches my nipples checking, no doubt, for implants.

It's all virtual, of course, by implants I mean malware or malicious code and she is, of course, scanning me; all this could be done in a nanosecond but where would the fun be in that ?

She pushes down on my belly like a doctor examining me and then slides her fingers into my vagina, smiling again, I'm sure, at how wet I am.

'No need for any lubricant here.'

I feel myself blush and turn my head away from her while she continues her examination running her hands over my thighs.

'Your first time ?'

Still gagged, I nod.

'It's beautiful inside.' She squeezes my calves and then strokes the soles of my feet making me squirm.

'Nearly done.' She presses a button on the couches control panel and the lower section starts to move lifting and spreading my legs and bending them at my knees then she steps between and slides her finger into my bottom.

'You're clear.' She pulls her finger out and peels off her rubber gloves before throwing them into the bin. Then she turns back to look at me. 'Nice bod, by the way.' She smiles and then presses another button on her console; my legs are pulled straight again and then the couch tips so I am half standing, half lying in my bonds. She steps behind me and begins to push me towards a door which slides open to let us through.

We are in a small room with dim lights that reminds me of the sleezy foyer leading into Subtown; this room is more like a guardpost and the guardian is one of my nurse's many twin sisters though she is dressed in military fatigues; well, if I'm honest she wears a khaki blouse that is open to the navel, a pair of very tight and very short shorts, cavalry boots with unnecessary and probably impractical heels and a little peaked cap.

Normally this might all grab my attention, I've done a few sims where I've been interrogated by a woman like this but today nothing can distract me from what I can see behind her; Subtown has its vids playing of what was happening within but they are nothing like this, nothing like the rolling landscape of forest and field; I can see blue lakes shining in sunshine and distant mountain peaks capped with snow, I can see birds and animals and, somewhere in the middle distance, the haziness of rain. It is utterly beautiful.

I am scanned again though the soldier simply looks me up and down then nurse removes my gag.

'All that glisters...' I speak my code and the world around me dissolves.


Chapter 7 (added: 2018/09/01)

SPARKLE

I am holding Silver's hand, our fingers actually touching ! We touch each other's bodies a lot, of course, particularly using our tongues, when we are not cruelly kept apart. Girls who are kept in such strict bondage so rarely feel the caress of a lover's fingers that the normal contact between lovers becomes adapted to the touch of a shoulder or the brush of a cheek, usually limited by the strap of a gag. Sometimes, so keen are we to feel the caress of each other's fingers, we eschew the intimate contact you might think a pair of sexually voracious sex slaves would prefer so that when we are caged together for the night we lie holding hands, often at these times we are back to back, our wrists cuffed behind us; we lie with our fingers entwined and sometimes the soles of our feet touching. Things often progress, of course, it is difficult to lie beside a lover knowing that she is naked and helpless in bondage and very horny and not take advantage of that fact but, for a while at least it, is a pleasure to hold hands.

We are not caged now though we are, of course, in bondage, harnessed between the shafts of our mistress's chariot, bridled, reined, toiling under the whip but, at least the little finger of Silver's left hand is wrapped around my right fist as I hold the middle shaft. Our wrists are shackled to the shaft by the steel cuffs that were welded shut when we became slaves and our other wrists are chained to the shaft on the other side of our bodies, Silver's right and my left. All our cuffs, including our collars, and the chains with which they are linked are steel coated in gold as are our piercings. We wouldn't be much use as ponies if our legs weren't free but we still wear our ankle and thigh cuffs; our upper arm cuffs are chained together in a way that draws our shoulders back and makes our breasts point.

When she puts us in harness, Mistress locks our wrist cuffs to the shafts of the chariot so that we hold the wooden poles. Many girls are run with their hands cuffed behind them or even sheathed but our mistress prefers us to hold the shafts believing it gives us more control and helps to maintain our arm strength. As you might imagine, girls who are kept in constant bondage are at risk of losing their strength and muscle tone but our mistress has her pets exercised regularly in ways that make very sure this will not happen to us.

Pony training has always been a regular part of our routine, usually under the watchful eye of Madam Equa; as well as gym work on the lunge rein to develop speed and technique we spend many hours each week straining to pull a heavy work cart to develop strength and stamina. Pony training can be very intense and we often return to our cages exhausted, our bodies caked with sweat and dust and our hair matted, far different from the exquisite pleasure slaves who grace Mistress' chamber to entertain her and her guests.

At least once per week our mistress trains us herself between the shafts of her chariot.

Today, however, we are not training, we wear our best display harnesses, our skin is oiled and our hair carefully plaited. The harnesses are white leather with gold buckles, they have padded straps that go over our shoulders and round our waists and others that run between our thighs, they support gold rings that circle our breasts. We also wear white leather pony boots that make us run on our toes and support our ankles as we draw our mistress along the country road. The boots lock to our ankle cuffs. We are both plumed, white feathers attached to our bridles; the bridles hold bits between our teeth and support blinkers to keep us focussed on the road ahead. Bells are clipped to our nipple rings and jingle we run. We make a beautiful sight as we jog easily along the dirt road drawing our gorgeous mistress behind us in her golden chariot.

As we approach a fork in the road I feel a gentle pull on my bridle guiding me to the left hand path, the one that climbs towards a village on the top of a hill. A moment later there is a sharp, stinging slap to my bottom as Mistress reminds me not to slacken my pace on the climb ahead.


TOIGRIN

I am hanging by my wrists which are bound together above my head, turning slowly. My ankles are crossed and also bound together with a leather thong. I am naked. I am in a clearing in a forest, it is evening, the sky a vibrant orange, the heat of the day fading.

I am not alone. There is another girl, a skinny brunette with tanned skin hangs like me from the branch of a tree some ten meters away. Like me she is naked and there is a small patch of cloth lying on the ground beneath her; I wonder if it is the remains of her clothing. Her hair is unkempt and her skin dirty, I think she must be some sort of wild girl, a barbarian or a savage. By swinging slightly I can turn myself to see more of my surroundings, spinning and swinging slowly back to rest over some fifteen minutes.

When I first woke, I tried calling out to the other girl but discovered I was gagged, there is something large and solid in my mouth and, I think, the taste of leather; it feels like a wooden ball coated with leather and, from what I can see of the other girl it is held in place by a thick strap. She has a leather collar buckled around her neck and I think I am wearing one too.



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I cannot be sure how long I have been here or, in truth, where here is or why I am in this place. There is a part of my mind that tells me I should be frightened, terrified even, to wake naked and in bondage in some wild place but that is only a small part and I keep it in check.

I look up to see two women entering the clearing noticing quickly that the first woman leads the other, by a rope to the collar around her neck. The captive is naked like me and Wild Girl, her wrists bound behind her back and a gag is strapped into her mouth. This woman looks like my fellow captive, wiry with unkempt dark brown hair, her skin however is slightly lighter in tone and covered in a network of blue patterns that I think must be tattoos.

The woman in charge, our captress, is athletic looking, a brunette though different from the other two; she has chestnut brown hair that is much glossier and drawn behind her head into a very short ponytail held by a leather thong; she is more muscular than the other two girls and, I note, considerably more buxom, she is also clothed; a tight leather bodice clings to her torso and is laced across her large breasts, a short leather skirt hangs from it; she wears thigh boots too, not sex shop patent leather ones with spiked heels but low heeled and of the same tanned leather as her bodice and skirt. A short sword hangs from a baldric across her shoulder and there is a bow strapped to her back. I note that she carries a multibladed whip.

I watch as she makes Tattooed Girl lie down before crossing and binding her ankles. She then pulls the girl's ankles up to her wrists and binds them in place then leaves the girl lying hogtied. Satisfied the girl is helpless the warrior woman stands and walks towards my fellow captive moving with grace and confidence. She circles the girl then reaches out to touch her, feeling the firmness of her thighs and buttocks. Wild Girl is clearly frightened by this treatment and wriggles in her bonds crying out through her gag though it is clear there is nothing she can do. Warrior Woman draws her whip and delivers a flurry of stinging blows to the girls loins and buttocks, admonishing her in a language I cannot understand and Wild Girl quietens. Warrior Woman turns away, leaving the girl crying softly, and glances up at me. She is strikingly beautiful, strong featured with high cheeks and full lips, I meet her gaze for a few moments, her eyes are a piercing blue and she seems so fierce, so dominant. I find her intensely attractive. Finally I am forced to look down.

I wonder if she will come and examine me, feel my body, and what she will think of it. I am less wiry than my two fellow captives, my skin paler and my hair is blonde. I find myself wondering if my captress, the term 'mistress' appears unbidden in my head, finds me attractive but, if she does she shows no sign of it and turns away.

I watch as she scales the tree from which I am hanging and retrieves a couple of leather bags and what looks like a bed roll. She tosses them down onto the ground below and slides down as agily as she ascended. Over the next few minutes she gathers wood and then, using straw and a flint from one of her bags, sets it alight. Somehow this seems odd to me but I don't know why. With the fire taking hold she draws a knife, looking up at me as she does so, the blade is long and gently curved, it glows red in the failing light. I wonder for a moment what she plans and shiver though I am not cold and she looks down, smiling to herself.

Opening one of the bags she produces the body of a small furry creature that looks a little like a rabbit and proceeds to skin and gut it with the knife. She works with skill and dexterity, her movements precise, her attention focussed. I think she is utterly engrossed until there is a rustle in the trees just beyond the clearing she freezes immediately becoming instantly alert, as her sharp blue eyes scanning the woods for movement. She remains in this state for some time before returning to her preparation.

I watch as she cuts the meat into slices and throws them into a battered pot, adding water and dried herbs. She puts the pot on the fire and stirs it with the knife until the water is boiling then she lifts it off the fire, standing it to the side where it continues to steam, simmering gently. Then, after another careful look around she stands and walks back to the tree from which Wild Girl is hanging. She unties the rope holding her captive up and lowers the girl to the ground. Wild Girl rolls onto her back watching her captress with wide eyes then tries to wriggle away as the woman approaches her.

Warrior woman squats and pulls her captive back by the leather thongs around her ankles. Wild girl continues to struggle but warrior woman straddles her, pinning her down and, when the girl brings her bound hands up to protect herself warrior woman brushes them away, twisting her fist into the leather thong from which her prisoner has been hanging and using it to pull the girl's hands back behind her head. Wild Girl stills for a moment but then Warrior Woman reaches out to touch her breasts and she begins to squirm and cry out again through her gag.

Warrior Woman slaps Wild Girl across the face with her free hand and uses the hand holding the thong to grab the girl's hair and pull her head back. I watch as she leans in and says something to the girl in the language I don't understand. Wild Girl reacts with panic turning her head from side to side and bucking beneath her captress. Warrior Woman dismounts her and turns her over; with her fist still in the girl's hair and holding her bound wrists, then Warrior Woman proceeds to spank Wild Girl at least a dozen times with the flat of her hand until she stops struggling. Warrior Woman ties the thong from the girl's wrists to the back of her collar and pulls up her bound ankles, using rope from which she has been hanging to anchor the captive's heels just below her buttocks. Then, to my surprise Warrior Woman removes her captive's gag before turning her over and repeating the phrase she used earlier.

Wild Girl shakes her head and replies in what I assume to be the same tongue. It is easy to guess the word she is saying means 'no'. Although she presumably understands more than I do of the language, Warrior Woman ignores the girl's refusal and picks up her whip. Wild Girl looks at it anxiously and quietens, stiffening as Warrior Woman cups one of her small breasts and plays with the nipple.

I watch, fascinated, as Warrior Woman slides herself forward lifting her skirt. Wild Girl starts to protest again but not as violently and then Warrior Woman lowers herself onto the girl's face.

I have known what is occurring for some time but have shut this out. A girl, a frightened girl, is being raped in front of me; a frightened girl whose fate it is quite likely I will share. That small cautious part of my mind starts to tell me it told me to be frightened but I fear only one thing, that Warrior Woman will be satisfied by Wild Girl and won't treat me in the same way.

Wild Girl does seem to show promise and I watch Warrior Woman move her hips slowly as the girl's tongue begins to arouse her. My captress is side on to me and I can see the smile gently creeping across her face as her body responds to the captive's teasing. I watch as she arches her back running her hands down her body and thighs then reaches up to undo the laces of her bodice; she pulls the garment apart freeing her large breasts, a red pendant on a fine chain swings free and she begins to play with her own nipples which are dark and brown and both pierced by gold rings. As her arousal builds she begins to writhe slowly, rhythmically, the muscles of her strong thighs moving her hips gently as she arches back allowing the girl's tongue full access to her sex. I see her free her hair, running her finger through it.

As I watch this exquisite sexual athlete I realise just how aroused I am by this display; nipples hard, sex wet, that warm feeling in my loins. I begin to squeeze my thighs together to increase the sensation wishing I could be part of the coupling that is occurring before me. Then Warrior Woman climaxes, her head back, mouth open, eyes wide looking at the darkening sky above her where the brightest of the stars are beginning to appear. Until that moment she has been focussed, intent on her arousal as she was intent in all the other actions I have seen her perform; at this moment, however, she suddenly looks vulnerable so that, were I not bound and helpless I might, perhaps, have an opportunity of escape; but then she look at me, her blue eyes still slightly clouded with lust but and I know that escape is impossible, even if I wanted it to be.


I lie on my side watching Warrior Woman as she squats by the dying fire. She has cut me down and rebound my hands behind my back, tying my ankles to my wrists like Tattoo Girl. I did not struggle; after my captress' moment of vulnerability her focus returned, with my ankles bound I would not have had much chance to overcome her or escape; at least that is the reason I give myself for lying meekly in the cool slightly damp grass and allowing myself to be bound. Wild Girl is still tied with her hands behind her head as she was when she was forced to give cunnilingus to our mistress - it somehow seems a more appropriate word now. Her gag has not been replaced. Tattoo Girl lies near me still hogtied and, like me, gagged.

It is nearly dark and I am beginning to feel cold. I realise I am also hungry, perhaps this is because I can smell the stew.

I wonder if Mistress will feed me.

She looks up, as if realising I am watching her and smiles, at me this time. Perhaps the sex has relaxed her. She removes the stew pot from the fire and stands and coming towards me then bends and removes my gag brushing my hair from my face in a gesture that is almost affectionate and somehow familiar.

She really is beautiful.

'Thank you.' It is hard to form the words, my jaw is stiff and my tongue doesn't move properly; saliva runs from my mouth. Aside from being naked and helpless I find myself thinking I am not as desirable as I would like to appear.

I am not sure if she understands but she smiles again and goes to remove Tattoo Girl's gag then she returns to the stew pot.

We watch her eat. Glancing at my fellow captives I can see an expression in their eyes that must mirror my own. I notice Tattoo Girl wriggle slightly towards the fire and wonder if I could do the same. Mistress has smiled at me but I can still see the whip at her hip and fear to displease her.

When she has finished Warrior Woman stands and walks towards Wild Girl. I watch as she puts pieces of meat into the girl's mouth, standing over her as she chews and swallows before giving her the next piece.

I cannot help feeling envy at the attention being shown to Wild Girl and wish Mistress would favour me.

Wild Girl says something and the two converse briefly in their language. Then Mistress goes to Tattoo Girl and feeds her.

I am left to last, waiting impatiently for the attention of my mistress.

Eventually she crouches beside me, brushing my hair from my face again before pushing a small piece of meat into my mouth. It tastes quite good, slightly gamy though the herbs mask this a little; it is also quite tough but I chew and swallow and accept a second piece of meat.

When she has fed me I thank Mistress and she favours me with a smile.

Next Mistress brings a leather water bottle to each of us, holding it to our lips and allowing us to drink. The water is slightly warm and tastes sour from the leather of the container.

I thank Mistress again and she kneels beside me but it is only to replace my gag.

I watch as she replaces the other girl's gags too and then lifts Wild Girl and Tattoo Girl so they are lying beside me.

It is almost completely dark now, we can see only by the light of the stars. The fire is a faint glow, almost gone. I have barely noticed the creeping darkness, my eyes adapting like those of the creatures whose sounds I can now hear stirring in the woods. I am aware this is not a place I am used to, though, again, I do not know why.

Mistress takes a leather rope and threads it through our collars, tying us together then she checks out bonds as best she can in the darkness and finally throws a rough blanket over us. Then she unlaces her bodice though does not remove it, takes her own blanket, kicks out the remains of the fire and lies down beside us.



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I lie beneath the blanket looking up at the stars and then across at my captress. She is less than a meter from me, a dark mass in the darkness around her aside from the soft sheen of the starlight on her hair. Behind me I can hear the breathing of Wild Girl and Tattoo Girl, one of them is muttering quietly in her language and I wonder if she is reciting some sort of prayer. The blanket smells slightly musty and, I think, smells of the Warrior Woman whose scent I have caught on the occasions when she has bound me; though it is rough I am grateful for its warmth and, as the night cools for the presence of my fellow captives.

I lie awake, continuing to stare at Mistress. I think I can see the rise and fall of her chest beneath her blanket. I try to call to mind her features, recalling her fierce blue eyes and shape of her face, the fullness of her lips. Somehow the face is familiar but I know it cannot be. I wriggle a little closer to her in the hope of seeing her more clearly. I am aware of the tether tied to my collar but think it is long enough. I near the edge of the blanket and feel it lift, a rush of cool air bushing my naked skin. The sensation is not unpleasant and I creep a little further exposing my body more. I wonder what Mistress would do if she were to wake now, open her eyes and see my naked body helpless in front of her, my golden hair shining in the starlight; would she know that my nipples erect are from more than cold.

I am committed now, although it is true to say such was the case when I took that tentative wriggle towards her; any further and the blanket will fall away. I am hogtied and there will be no chance to replace it, I will be left naked and bound at the mercy of the night.

The blanket slides away and I shiver as the cool night rolls over my whole body though it is as much a shiver of anticipation as chill. Inch by inch I creep towards my sleeping mistress trying to be as silent as possible hoping fervently that my tether will let me reach her.

I am almost touching her when I feel the tether pull taut, another inch or two and I could press myself fully against her. I could push my hips against her but I want to touch her with my whole body, feel my breasts against her, lie with my face close to hers. This close I can see her face more clearly, beautiful in sleep. I can feel her breath on my face. I want to kiss her though I am not sure how I will do this with the gag in my mouth; I pull gently with my neck feeling the collar tighten around my throat.

Her eyes snap open and I see a momentary flicker of alarm, her hand moving towards the hilt of her sword then she stills as she recognises me. I see her smile and then she slides towards me lifting her blanket and pulling it over me. She reaches behind and unties the tether from the ring on my collar. I feel her arm around me, holding me, the pressure of her breasts against mine, the firmness of her body, the roughness of her bodice and the smooth skin of her thighs above her boots.

She holds me against her and while I am content with this I fear she is falling asleep again and part of me wants more. I squirm against her pressing my hips against hers and rubbing my thigh against her boots. She does not reject these advances but neither does she respond. Finally, I nuzzle my cheek against hers, feeling rather than seeing her smile. Her grip on my body changes, her left hand sliding into my hair, the other holding my arm. She pulls me down her body so that my face is pressed between her breasts then she unbuckles my gag. I need no further encouragement. I nuzzle into the dark warm cleavage, feeling the heat of her skin against my cheeks. She tries to push me down her body but I resist for a moment and manage to slip one of her big dark nipples with it's piercing ring into my mouth. I think she is about to pull my head away but then she relaxes enjoying the way my tongue plays over her nipple which swells as I tease it. After a few moments I feel her hand come up to my own breasts, her fingers caressing my own nipples. Her breathing quickens.

I want to move to her other breast but I am not sure I can reach it with just my mouth. I move down her body licking her skin between the laces of her bodice. I can taste and smell her more intensely now, taste the salt on her body where her sweat has dried and the dryness of the dust, the faint tang of unfamiliar herbs. I push my tongue onto her navel and feel her squirm then work my way down her body, tracing a path with my lips and tongue.

Her sex is shaved though roughly, the stubble coarse and I smile to myself as I rub my cheek against it then plunge between her legs which part to accommodate me. Her sex is already wet and when I touch her slick labia with my tongue her taste becomes stronger, saltier. I can feel her fingers stroking my hair, twisting stands of it gently, guiding me when I stray too far from where she wants my tongue. She clearly likes the way I gently stroke her clitoris. I smile when I find this too is pierced.

Suddenly, I feel her fingers tighten and she rolls onto her back, pulling me with her so that I am lying on my belly on cool damp grass with my head between her legs. I have free access to her now and, though I am still tightly restrained I can please her more easily. This I do for a long time, enjoying the responses of her body almost as much as if they were my own. Several times I think she is nearing climax and reduce my teasing until her breathing settles before starting to arouse her again more fully. I fear she may object to this sort of treatment, rebuke or punish me, but she does not, simply lying back under the open sky and enjoying the service I am performing for her. When she does come, she lets out soft whimpers, her back arching, her hand going to her head, sweeping though her hair in the same way as it did before.


I lie with my cheek pressed against her thigh as she recovers, remembering that brief moment of vulnerability I saw in her before.

Then her fist is back in my hair and she drags me back up to lie beside her. She strokes my hair and looks into my eyes in the darkness. I can see the blackness of her pupils and the shine of starlight on her iris. I think she might kiss me but then she rolls me over and I feel the gag pressed against my lips. I open my mouth to take it and lie still while she buckles it tightly in place. For a moment she presses herself against my back, my bound arms and my feet, her right hand teases my right nipple and I feel her cheek against mine. Her hand moves down my body and slips between my legs. I am very wet and her fingers slide easily over my labia. I gasp around my gag and her fingers move to seek out my clitoris.

'Tapdak !' She says and pushes me away, rolling me back to my fellow captives. She lifts their blanket to allow me to squirm underneath it but does not retie my tether then she turns away and pulls her own blanket over herself.

I lie looking at my mistress in the darkness knowing that I have pleased her and that having done so I have been cast aside like an unwanted toy.

I shiver with pleasure.


We are running and have been since shortly after dawn. Mistress, I enjoy using that word now, sets a tiring pace for girls who run naked, bound and leashed behind their owner. My fellow captives, perhaps 'slaves' is a more correct word, are from the wild and keep pace easily despite having their arms bound behind their backs and gags in their mouths. Also their breasts are a little smaller than mine and, I don't think bounce as much as mine do. Mistress, of course, has very large breasts but the leather bodice confines them tightly.

If Mistress feels anything towards me after our sexual encounter of the previous night then she does not show it.

I am tiring and my legs ache, as do my breasts, though, for the moment, I keep pace. We have left the forest behind and are running across open grassland that rises and falls but, overall, gently slopes up towards a range of mountains in the distance. The sun began at my back and has now moved to my left side suggesting that we are running west, assuming this sun is that which shares my own world. I still do not know who I am or why I am here, a captive/slave in this strange place. I must be fit, more than average for...I don't know what to use as a comparator...for a moment as that thought enters my head I can see myself chasing a figure in black between buildings, I am running hard, my chest burning more than it does now, gaining on her then the image is gone and I am once again behind Mistress.

She is a glorious sight, her strong legs easily setting the pace at which we follow, her glossy hair flying behind her, the flap of her skirt revealing tantalising glimpses of her firm buttocks.

When we stop we are all breathing hard, me more than the others though I stand upright trying to hide my breathlessness, my weakness, from Mistress; then, at her gesture, I drop obediently to my knees, eager to please her. She removes our gags, something for which I am very grateful, and unslings her water skin; after removing the stopper she holds it to our mouths. The water is warm but I gulp it down until she pulls it away from me with a shake of her head. I think she smiles at me, her blue eyes flashing and then she is gone to water my fellow slaves.


Chapter 8 (added: 2018/09/01)

SPARKLE

Silver and I lie with Mistress. It is the third day from Mistress' home and she has driven her ponies hard. Our bodies bear the marks of her whip and our muscles ache despite our constant training. However, even after the day's efforts, harnessed and toiling under the whip we are still required to serve our mistress.

We would have it no other way.

Silver lies between Mistress's spread thighs lapping at the soft pink labia while I lie beside her kissing her gently, my tongue playing with hers. Some mistresses do not permit their slaves to kiss them on the mouth and Mistress only permits it rarely but for the girl who does not get to use her tongue elsewhere, it is at least some consolation. Mistress' lips are always cool and firm and her tongue is always playful. Despite the earnestness of her journey she is relaxed by our supplication and, I think, will allow Silver and I to lie together tonight.

We slaves are restrained, of course, as slave girls should be, wrists cuffed behind our backs, ankles shackled, Mistress has been using chains clipped to our nose rings to guide is tonight. She usually clips her leash to our clit or nipple piercings or even our collars but when directing the willing mouth of a slave girl the nasal piercing is probably the most exact; not that we need much direction, of course.

We are staying at a roadside inn, the first of our journey. The two previous nights we spent under the stars snuggled together for warmth, among other things. Thus, when we arrived at the inn just after sunset, after watering us, Mistress had us washed and then we knelt chained beside the fire in her room as she bathed alone. We were both gagged for this which, I think, was a Mistress' punishment for our squeals and general rowdiness as, with us chained in the stable block one of the inn's grooms removed our harnesses and washed us down.

The girl had clearly handled many ponies and knew her business but I think she was rather excited by being given charge of the matching pets of a Utolian noble, particularly pert blondes like us. She was certainly very diligent in her duties, ensuing we were thoroughly washed and rubber down and that all our intimate were piercings cleaned. She then oiled us, massaging scented oil into our tired muscles, and braided our hair with flowers.

We thanked her, of course, we had both come several times at her hands and it seemed only fair to return the favour though I think her mistress may have been less well pleased and the poor groom probably ended up chained naked in the stable wearing only a chastity belt for the night.


TOIGRIN

I watch Mistress check the height of the sun and then look down the road to the north and east where it curves round the hill. We have been running for four days across the open grassland, the land climbing as we head further west. The days have been long and tiring and I am exhausted but, for a girl who is naked in a strange land, captive, bound, gagged and leashed, I am remarkably content.



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On the second night of my captivity Mistress had me kneel by her fire as she cooked and began to teach me her language. I do not think it is the one she uses to converse with my fellow slaves. She seemed pleased that I was able to remember the words easily, something in which surprised me too. I wonder if I might be, or perhaps have been, some sort of scholar though my fitness suggests maybe I was a traveller. I thus learnt the words for many of the things lying around our campsite and other collective nouns. I also learnt what I think is the word for Mistress, I certainly don't think Lovtjak is her name. Only once did she become impatient with me and that was when she tried to ask my name. I knew what she was asking but, as I cannot recall who I am, it was not possible for me to answer. She ended up naming me Toigrin; I do not know what this name means but I like to hear her say it, especially when she abbreviates it to Toi. She has also called me something which I think means something like 'skygirl' or 'starmaid', I am not sure exactly of the vocabulary she was using.

That night, after we had eaten Mistress tied the other two slaves together and then took me to her bed, this time removing her clothes so that I had the pleasure of seeing her glorious body fully naked, a sight which ignited within me an intense passion and made my pussy wet. I pleasured her again with my tongue, enjoying once more the taste of her body, its saltiness and the scent of a day's exertion.

I love the feel of her full breasts, her firm belly and strong thighs against my body and her response as I use my tongue unreservedly to give her pleasure. She seems to enjoy particularly when I take one of her big brown nipples in my mouth and nibble it gently with my teeth. I am fascinated by the rings that pierce them and wonder if all women in the world wear such jewelry. She also likes my tongue pressed deeply inside her pussy, squirming when I penetrate her after teasing her labia and pierced clitoris. Again, the little ring piercing her down there intrigues and excites me. It is such an intimate adornment and I want to know who inserted it.

I think, rather rediculously, I am becoming obsessed with Mistress.


On the third night Mistress freed my hands and told me to collect 'jacek', wood. I expect the other girls would run off if they were freed but I do not know where I would go even if I did escape. Perhaps she knows that, bizarrely, after being her prisoner for two days I considered myself her devoted slave and, I hope, lover.

I am embarrassed by this teenage crush I appear to have developed on Warrior Woman and wonder whether I was a very submissive person before coming here. The way I am responding to my captivity, makes me wonder if I was a sexual submissive too, perhaps enjoying bondage. I certainly have no objection to being kept bound and gagged and, when that bondage is applied by my dominant brunette mistress I feel unexpectedly excited by it.

You can imagine my pleasure then, when on the third night as I was taken to bed by this beautiful leather clad dominatrix she, for the first time, touched me intimately in return, not just fleetingly but lingeringly so that, after I had enjoyed her convulse with pleasure she played with my nipples and then teased my dripping sex with her fingers until I climaxed with surprising force. I think I also made quite a lot of noise because I woke the other two captives who started whimpering into there gags.

I think Mistress found it funny at first but when she had to get up and replace their blanket which they had dislodged in their panic and order them to be quiet she was less amused. As a punishment she tied me into a tight hogtie, binding my hair into a rope and using it to pull my head back. She gagged me again, of course, and then left me like this for the remainder of the night.

I should probably have found this distressing but, other than a slight pang of sadness that I had let Mistress down, I relished memory of her hands on my captive body; I also enjoyed the playful slap she gave my bottom when she went back to bed. I am sure she was grinning and she rolled under her blankets and turned her back on me.


Finally I see what Mistress has been waiting for. Three figures round the hillside and begin to approach us along the dirt road on which we are standing. They are indistinct at first, lost in a haze of heat and dust their footsteps stir up but soon I can make them out. There are two figures running ahead and one just behind them. The sunlight glints off them, metal flashing as they run.

Then I can see them clearly. Two girls pull another along on some sort of chariot. The two leading girls are harnessed and the woman behind in the chariot has a whip although I cannot see her using it. The pony girls, for that is an exact description of what they are, are both blondes, their hair so pale it is almost white, they are both of athletic build and so similar I wonder if they might be sisters. Their skin is pale too, like mine. Their harnesses consist of broad leather straps around their waists and padded straps across their shoulders, there are gold rings around their small pert breasts and straps between their legs. They are also bridled, bits between their teeth and blinkers over their cheeks; the bridles are plumed, white feathers floating above their heads as they jog, or perhaps I should say trot, along the road with a grace that is almost effortless. As well as their harnesses it is clear that each girl also has metal bands locked around her neck, upper arms, wrists, thighs and ankles although the ankle cuffs are partly hidden by steel shoes that are strapped to each girls lower legs and feet. The bands, bonds, are gold and I think it was these that caught the sunlight when I first saw them.

I notice also that the girls have a bell hanging from each of their nipples and, as they come nearer, I can hear them tinkling.

The woman behind is a redhead and, as she approaches, I can see she is strikingly beautiful, if somewhat austere. She wears a copper or perhaps brass collar and breastplate like a warrior moulded to accommodate the swell of her large breasts. A sword and a bow are strapped to the chariot and standing in a holder beside her is a spear too. I cannot see her bottom half because of the front of the chariot.

As the chariot reaches us I can see the pony girls are both flushed and sweating despite the ease with which they have laboured to arrive here. As the redhead brings the girls to a stop beside us Mistress turns and gestures for me and my fellow captives to kneel; I obey immediately, bowing my head though can't resist looking up at the blondes who now stand in front of me breathing heavily.

I wonder what it would be like to be treated like this and whether Mistress owns a chariot to which she will harness me.

The redhead and Mistress exchange greetings and I see Mistress bow; then the redhead smiles, dismounting her chariot and embracing her. From the way they are speaking it is clear they are old friends. I can understand little of what they say but do hear the word 'sepora' which I think means slave and, what I think are names of the ponies: Silver and Sparkle. I watch from the corner of my eye as the two women walk towards the ponies and see Mistress gently caress the bottom of the one nearest her. The girl smiles around her bit, clearly pleased at the attention.

I cannot believe the wave of jealousy that engulfs me.

There is another discussion between Mistress and the redhead; Mistress and this new woman are clearly comfortable owning others of their sex and the thought makes me flush of desire.

Then, suddenly they are approaching me and I bow my head. I feel a hand on my chin and my head is lifted. I look up at the redhead. She really is beautiful though in an austere almost noble way, different to the rugged relaxed beauty of my own mistress. I meet her gaze for a moment, her blue eyes are fierce and I quickly look down. There is another discussion and I hear the word 'starmaid' again, I think they are comparing me to the ponies and hope the comparison is a little favourable though how I can compare to these exquisite, harnessed beauties with their poise and grace I do not know. I can only hope that Mistress will have me trained.


We fall in beside the redhead and her chariot. The ponies, fit as they are, are encumbered by their burden and the pace is slower than that which Mistress set over the grassland we have crossed, something for which I am grateful.

I run behind Mistress, still leashed and bound with a gag in my mouth trying to watch the ponies, enjoying their graceful movements and, when I think I can, trying to emulate them. Not looking forward I stumble and nearly fall. Mistress looks round and draws her whip, then, slowing her pace just a fraction, delivers a sharp blow to my buttocks, a clear rebuke and very unlike the playful slap she delivered to me in the camp.

Chastised, I concentrate on the road ahead.


We camp as evening falls. The road has turned progressively south, the red evening sun now sets to our right. There is a river crossing the road and we ford it before stopping; the water is chill as it splashes around my calves and ankles, a pleasant sensation after a day running barefoot in the heat.

Pulling off the road, Mistress commands her three captives to kneel and I watch the redhead, who is called Desedre, step from her chariot and begin to unharness her ponies. From the way she handles them it is clear she has great affection for them; there is much touching, some of it intimate and the bitted ponies clearly show their pleasure at the way they are being handled.

The ponies' wrists are, I have noticed, cuffed to the shafts of their mistress' chariot and when she releases them, Desedre locks their hands behind their backs using the same cuffs. The girls make no effort to resist. When they are free of harness and unbridled the redhead leads her blonde charges to the waters edge a few yards downstream from the road. The blonde ponies still wear the metal cuffs locked around their bodies and I think these must be signs of their bondage, permanent reminders of their slavery. I think of my leather collar, feeling the urge to touch it, reassure myself that I too am owned.

Desedre commands the slaves to kneel by the water's edge and they do so obediently. I notice the way they do this, their knees apart, backs straight, small breasts thrust out, heads down and I begin to wonder at the way they have been trained to do this, to appear desirable in everything they do. I can see the girls looking at the water, after toiling all day in harness and bridle, they must be thirsty but they do not attempt to drink until Desedre, Mistress Desdre gives them permission. At her command they bend forward and begin to lap at the cool water. I push my dry tongue against my gag and realise how thirsty I am. As they bend forward I can see that they have pierced citorises and labia and seem in no way self conscious about exposing their sexes. The bells hanging from their nipples are actually clipped to piercing rings and I try think why these submissive beauties and my dominant mistress might both have their bodies adorned in such a similar way.


Mistress Desedre has been watching her slaves as they drink and when they have slaked their thirst commands them to their feet before releasing their wrists. They proceed to help their mistress remove her clothing. Under her armour, like my mistress, Desedre wears a short leather skirt and thigh high boots which, despite the dust of the road seem to shine as if polished daily, perhaps by her obedient slaves.

Desdre's body is quite stunning, firm and strong like Mistress' though lither, but her breasts are almost as large and I notice, almost with surprise that her nipples are not pierced. Her skin is pale and gently freckled. Once naked she leads the girls to a pool a little further downstream. The blondes follow with utter obedience, dropping to all fours and crawling in a way that is totally lacivious, the bells on their nipples tinkling gently. Desedre enters the water and submerges completely. The slaves kneel back on their heels their hands sliding immediately behind their backs. When Desdre surfaces standing, waist deep in the water like some newly born river goddess, she commands her slaves to come in and, with a brief glance at each other they follow.



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I watch as Silver and Sparkle begins to wash their mistress. They do this in the same manner in which Desedre handled them while removing their harnesses and bridles, touching her unashamedly and erotically.

When Desedre is satisfied she begins to help her slaves wash each other.

I kneel, still bound and gagged, watching the spectacle.

I am snapped from my voyeuristic pleasure by the by Mistress's hand in her hair. She jerks my head back but I can see she is amused by my preoccupation. I realise how aroused I am and find myself blushing. I am not sure if Mistress notices but she unties my wrists and tells me to collect wood for a fire.

When I return I find Desire once again dressed and her slaves kneeling beside each other at the edge of the camp. Mistress, however, is now naked, washing herself in the pool and I wish that she had commanded me to wash her. My fellow captives kneel beside the pool, still bound and gagged though their skin glistens with water and their hair is wet. I touch my hand to the gag in my mouth hoping I am allowed to drink soon and distract myself by setting a fire.

When I have finished I look up to find the blondes are watching me. They look so perfect, kneeling submissively, naked save for their steel bonds, their little breasts thrust forward so pertly, each nipple belled. I smile at them around my gag but get no response though they turn to each other and giggle. I feel clumsy and awkward in their presence though they are in bondage and I am comparatively free. Their Mistress is over beside the chariot and, when I look at the river I can see my mistress has emerged from the water.

On impulse I drop to my knees trying to adopt the same position as the blonde slaves, knees apart, back straight, breasts thrust out, head down.

I look up to find mistress standing over me. She is smiling and strokes my hair. She is still naked and I know I give away my thoughts as I take in her glorious body shining in the evening sun. The urge to bend forward and worship her, to kiss and lick her feet and show my utter submission to her is almost irresitable.

Mistress smiles. 'Come !' She commands me in her language. It is word I have learned quickly and eagerly.

I have watched the blondes crawl and I do my best to imitate their movements, arching my back and swinging my hips. I wish I could display the intimate jewelry they flaunt though I know their allure needs no augmentation.

At the pool's edge I kneel up, hands behind my back, breasts thrust out, head down and Mistress removes my gag. I look down at the water, it looks cool and inviting. I long to bend forward and quench my thirst but I make myself await Mistress' command. I hope she will let me drink then command me into the water to bathe her; I relish the though of running my hands for the first time over her voluptuous body but I feel her begin to tie my hands behind my back.

At her command I lean forward to drink, remembering how the blondes did this, lifting their hips and flaunting their sexes. I suppose, any girl bound thus would have to display herself this way. However, before I can reach the water, Mistress stops me with a hand on my shoulder. I blush, embarrassed that I seem to have misunderstood her but she is smiling. I hope she knows how much I am trying to please her.

She points to the river.

The others have all drunk from the flowing water and I assume it must be fresher.

'Thank you, Mistress.' It is the first time I have spoken these words out loud, though, after she made me come I lay awake beside her, helpless and gagged, practicing the words in my head ready to use when next she did something for her most loyal slave.

She is clearly pleased but I see her frown putting a finger to her lips to indicate I should be quiet, saying something I don't understand involving the word for slave.

I think she must be telling me that slaves must only speak when given permission.

I nod, still blushing from my indiscretion but thrilled at the way she is beginning to train me.

She hooks a finger in my collar and leads me to the river.

I crawl awkwardly with my hands bound then kneel waiting. She crouches beside me and places a hand on my lower back pushing me forwards and then on my shoulders lifting them, pulling them back further correcting my posture. I had thought I was displaying myself like the blondes but I realise I have much to learn.

I kneel as she stands and circles me then gives me the command to drink.

I bend forward, trying again to assume the position the blondes adopted. The water is deliciously cold on my lips and tongue and I lap at it realising how difficult it is to drink like this. Finally I place my lips in the water and suck in a mouthful but I have only just done this when Mistress grabs my hair in her fist and lifts my head; she demonstrates a lapping motion with her tongue and says 'lappe', the word that I assume must apply to this action.

I have so much to learn.


When I have slaked my thirst, Mistress leads me into the pool. My wrists are still bound and I worry that I will slip in the soft mud at the bottom of the pool but she keeps hold of my collar. My body has cooled from its exertions and the water feels chill though I relish the pleasure of having the dust and sweat cleaned from my skin for the first time in four days. Mistress commands me to kneel and I do so feeling my knees and legs sink into the soft mud, the water rising to my neck then she motions that she will wash my hair and, with no further warning tips me back under the water.

My first urge it to panic, to fight, a naked bound captive in a strange world, but I force myself to calmness. When I surface I find Mistress smiling, perhaps pleased at the trust I have shown in her. The she herself ducks under the water and rinses the grime from her own hair. She stays under for some time and, when she surfaces I can see gooseflesh on her skin; her nipples are stiffly erect and I wonder again how she came by the rings that pierce them.

The blonde are clearly slaves and intimately pierced.

Could Mistress have once been a slave ?


I kneel near the fire in the posture I have been taught.

Mistress is cooking and talking to Desedre. The brunette captives lie bound on their sides, each of their ankles tied to the collar of the other, their wrists still tied behind their backs. The other slaves, the blonde ponies, kneel beside each other. Desedre has fastened their wrist cuffs to their thigh cuffs, no doubt an easier position for them to maintain. They have continued to show their disdain for me but I have taken every opportunity to observe them.

Thus, with Mistress and Desedre are deep in conversation, I see one lean into the other, brushing her companion's shoulder with her own. The other, Sparkle, I think, turns and, as I watch them steel a kiss; both turning back to face the front in instant later as if nothing had occurred. They kneel like this for a few moments and then, satisfied that they are not being watched I see Sparkle edge slightly closer to Silver and the two girls link the fingers of their adjacent hands.

I am shocked by this behaviour but also completely fascinated and, when I think about it, not particularly surprised. These girls are kept in constant bondage, trained in sexual provocation, treated most likely as sex objects for the pleasure of their mistress and, perhaps others. It is thus of little wonder that the are lascivious, aroused, probably almost permanently by their treatment. I think of the four days I have spent with my new mistress and how I have willingly assumed the role of sex slave to her though she has kidnapped my and placed me in strict bondage.

Silver and Sparkle kiss again, longer this time, before facing their mistress trying, I think to disguise the guilty looks on their faces.

They keep still for several more minutes though I am aware that they are playing with each other's hands, something perhaps slaves kept in constant bondage have an opportunity to do very rarely.

Then, I see Sparkle lean over and lick Silver's nipple. She does it carefully so as not to disturb the bell, or make her own sound, and I wonder if that is the reason the little nipple bells have been left in place. Mistress Desdre must know how her slaves behave. Silver returns the favour and then a process of escalating mutual pleasure begins, the slaves' mouths moving further down their bodies with each encounter until Sparkle's face is buried between her lover's legs, her golden hair spread in a carpet over Silver's thighs.

It is unfortunate for the two girls that, at this moment, Mistress perceives that the food is cooked and Desede looks round to catch her slaves inflagrante. At a sharp rebuke from her they spring apart their little bells providing an audible reminder of their guilt.

Mistress Desdre stands and walks to her chariot. The bucket containing her spear and driving whip also appears to house a cane and she waves this as she approaches the kneeling slave girls who, though they eye the implement warily do not appear to show any contrition. Desdre delivers several sharp blows to each of the girl's breasts. The blondes are resolute, taking their punishment without question or appeal although the cane makes their nipple bells dance noisily and produces red lines across their lightly tanned skin. After the punishment, both girls bend forward and kiss their mistress' booted feet.

Mistress Desedre then turns back to the fire and exchanges comments with my own mistress. I see the cane passed to her and my mistress stand and walk towards me.

I suddenly realise that I am to be whipped too though I am not sure why. Perhaps, I think, I should have alerted Mistress Desdre to the lascivious behaviour of her slaves or, perhaps it is simply a warning. I recall reading something about punishing a slave at the end of the day leading to him or her performing more diligently the next.

Mistress stands beside me and orders me to count. She has taught me to count to twenty in her language and I hope will not need to demonstrate this level of knowledge. In the end she gives me six strokes, sharp blows to my breasts. I try hard to be as stoical as the blondes and succeed until the final one which catches my nipple and makes me gasp. Then the caning is over, Mistress stands before me and I offer my thanks by placing my lips to her still bare feet. I make sure I thank her diligently and am prevented from further adoration by a quick blow to my upturned bottom.

When I lift my head, Mistress is smiling.


I am surprised that the slaves are fed first but this is perhaps a pragmatic arrangement meaning their mistresses are not disturbed when they have eaten. The blondes have steel bowls into which their food is placed and which are then laid before them where they kneel. I see them eyeing the food hungrily but they make no effort of bend to eat it presumably awaiting the command from their mistress.

Mistress frees her other slaves, at least to the point where they can kneel and eat their food with their mouths. They and I have no bowl and the food is placed in front of us on a large leaf that Mistress plucks from the riverside.

Then Mistress and Desedre serve themselves and sit to eat.

I look at my fellow slaves; they are, no doubt as hungry as I but we all wait.

Finally, after several minutes Mistress Desedre gives the blondes permission to eat and they bend over their bowls, picking their food up hungrily with their mouths. The brunettes bend to eat too and I wonder if I should start but, a moment later Mistress turns and commands her slaves to eat, smiling at me as she does so.


When our dinner is over, we kneel awaiting the pleasure of our mistresses in the growing darkness. Mistress and Desedre talk quietly to each other for some time and then finally stand, my mistress moving to tie my fellow captives securely for the night and Desedre going to her chariot.

I have been watching the blondes edge steadily closer together. It is too dark to see the red lines on their breasts caused by the cane but I can still just see those on my own. I should probably say something about the blondes but I feel that would be betraying them even if it does lead to another whipping for me.



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When Mistress Desedre returns from her chariot she is carrying a bottle and I watch as she shares it with Mistress. They drink a few sips each and talk a little more, their conversation becoming more animated as the alcohol I presume to be in the flask lowers their inhibitions. Silver and Sparkle take advantage of the distraction to resume their flirtations and, when they catch me looking reward me with a smile and, in Silver's case a suggestive gesture with her tongue. Part of me desires to be with them, to enjoy the intimate contact they share and, in the cooling evening, the warmth of their delightful bodies, but I do not know they will accept me and, besides, I wish to await my mistress.

Finally I see Mistress stand, albeit a little unsteadily. She disappears, staggering slightly, into the darkness, presumably to relieve herself and then reappears. Mistress Desedre does the same, returning via her chariot whence she collects a blanket. Selecting a place to sleep not too distant from the fire she settles down and calls to Silver and Sparkle. I watch enviously as they leap to their feet and race to her side like the excited pets they are, snuggling up to her, one on each side. I imagine that their presence will very hard for Mistress Desedre to ignore.

Suddenly I feel something grab my hair and jump, gasping in surprise. Mistress holds the bottle she has been drinking from to my lips and pours a pungent liquid into my mouth that tastes of grapefruit. I swallow and feel it warm my throat and belly.

Then Mistress kisses me. The act is so sudden that I am taken by surprise and it is a moment before I return the kiss with the passion I feel. I can taste the liquour on her breath. One of her hands goes to my breasts as she drops to her knees in front of me, still holding my hair in her fist, her lips moving to my throat and then I feel her bite my neck. Excitedly I press my body against hers.

'Mistress.' I gasp. 'Take me, Mistress.'

She forces me back lying on top of me, fist in my hair, her other hand cupping my breast, playing roughly with my nipples. I am bound and cannot resist her even if I should want to but I also want to pleasure her and struggle beneath her longing to kiss her, to run my tongue over her body but she pins me down with her weight, the fist still in my hair tightening, perhaps misunderstanding my intentions, thinking I am trying to escape her advances. Her mouth moves to my right nipple and I feel her tongue rake over it then her teeth close around it.

I gasp with pleasure and squirm and have a flash of memory, a memory of intimate contact with her but not here in this place, she dressed in shiny red leather, a bodice, heeled boots, leather gloves she is playing with me, binding me with rope.

I cry out, a little surprised by this and she rolls me over, slapping me several times on the bottom.

This is more than I can bear.

'Please, Mistress. Hurt me !' I have to beg in English but I think she understands my need, rolling me back over and nuzzling my breasts then biting them as I squirm and cry out. Then she rakes her tongue over my belly and I lie rapt with pleasure moaning, waiting for her to move onto my hot wet sex. She takes her time, clearly very skilled in treating a slave in such a manner.

I am whimpering and ready to beg when there is a shout from Desedre, and I catch the word for silence.

I fall silent and Mistress stops her ravishment. I hear her breathing hard and then feel her creep her way up my body leaving me frustrated. The moon has not yet risen but I think Mistress looks slightly sheepish then she pulls my mouth to her own breast and I begin to pleasure her.


Chapter 9 (added: 2018/10/08)

TOIGRIN

It is morning and I awake to find the others preparing breakfast. Mistress' body is still pressed against me and I lie enjoying its warmth. I have been dreaming about being a slave in a different world. I have seen Mistress again as I saw her before in her shiny red outfit, boots heeled. I was crawling beside her through a garishly lit world that was at once familiar and strange; lit by neon, something that surely can't exist in this world where warriors wear swords and armour; some of the people in this other world dress leather and steel too but others wear rubber and plastic, materials with which I am familiar for I know the words by which they are called. In my dream I was leashed, crawling beside Mistress, naked apart from a tiny thong which simply emphasised my nakedness rather than providing any modesty. However, I was not out of place, others there were leashed or bound too. It was night in this strange town with its bars and shops and brothels and I think it is always night there.

Mistress, the mistress in my dream, in her rubber dress lead me into one of the houses along the street. I think I have been in it before.

She told me to kneel and I obeyed, placing my hands behind my back and bowing my head.

When I glanced up at her she is undressing, revealing her voluptuous body to me and I felt a surge of lust inside me. Without thinking I started to speak, in English, which I think must be my native tongue. I told her that I love her, love being her slave, want her to keep me, to make me her sexual plaything like Mistress Desire keeps Silver and Sparkle.

'Please, Mistress.' I begged.

She touched her lips for silence, whispering the word I have learnt. Behind her finger she was smiling. She bound my wrists with rope and then knelt down in front of me. She had a glass in her hand, red wine. I couldn't help but look at her beauty, her glossy hair and her blue eyes, her marvellous breasts with their piercings. I bowed my head trying to show my submission, my eyes looking at her firm thighs, spread with the dark well of her sex between, but she reached out and lifted my chin, looking into my eyes.

She pointed to me, saying my name. 'Toigrin' and then added the word for slave.

I already know this and when she pointed to herself and said 'Lovtjak', her word for mistress. I wanted to tell her to move on then let me kiss her. 'Esala Luust.'

I realise she was telling me her name. 'Lovtjak Luust. I said, and bowed my head as submissively as I could.

Again she reached forward and lifted my chin telling me again that I am a good girl. Then she pointed to her mouth and said 'Bocu.'

'Bocu.' I repeat.

She then hooked her finger in my collar as she did earlier and pulled me towards her. We kissed gently and she said 'Botoz.'

I laughed, repeating the word.

I am surprised how my knowledge of her language has expanded, grown so quickly, and it was almost as if this dream was part of my training, almost as if her language was already there and just needed unlocking.

Through the night we knelt together, Mistress and Slave as she continued to expand my vocabulary. She taught me the word for tongue, reminding me that I learnt 'lappe' earlier, then other body parts too; chin, neck, shoulder, nipple; she traced her finger over the bruises she inflicted as she taught 'breast'; she then ensured I had understood and remembered by commanding me to kiss the named parts; thus I learnt the difference between left and right and the word for ring.

Yet as she taught me these things I learnt others, words forming in my mind, names for the things around me, the walls and windows, carpet and ceiling, the people beyond.

I whispered them quietly in the darkness, as she touched my body, stroking my skin, playing with my nipples, guiding my lips to hers.

Eventually it was too much for me and my head started to nod. I saw Mistress smile as she took me in her arms and I drifted into sleep safe in her care.


Behind me Mistress groans and when I turn I can see she is clearly suffering from the effects of the alcohol she consumed the night before with Mistress Desire. I stop for a moment. Desdre means Desire in her language. I think I know other words too but I do not have time to think about them as Mistress makes me get up, leading me towards the river where she bends and gulps down mouthfuls cool water.

I kneel watching, noticing that Desire, Countess Desire, I can translate that now too, and her blonde ponies are looking at me strangely.

It is only when I am given permission to drink and lean over the river that I see my reflection in the stiller water at the side. My hair is in disarray and I wish I could apply make-up to cover the dark circles under my eyes and a little gloss to my lips but, more obviously I notice the whip marks on my breasts and, as I bend to drink see the bruises on my neck and chest where Mistress has bitten me.

I look up at Mistress and see the challenge to confront her with the abuse of my body but I will not do this. Mistress has marked me as clearly as if she had branded or tattooed me, even if it is only for a short time, for the moment at least.

I am the property of Lust, Mistress Lust and my name is Tuesday.


We travel for five more days until we round a hillside and see the city, a walled fortress standing in the plain below us, protected by the oxbow of a great river that shines in the late afternoon sun. I can see flags on the turrets and sentries on the wall, the sun catching the tips of their spears. On the road below other travelers toil towards it, some on foot, some using carts pulled by slaves.

Desire's ponies have seemed tireless as they draw her chariot and I wonder if all pony slaves in this world are as beautiful and as strong. Mistress and her slaves have, of course kept the same pace though we are not as encumbered as Sparkle and Silver. I have observed that, on occasions, particularly when the road has climbed steeply, Desire has stepped down from her chariot and shown no less physical prowess, running easily in her heavy bronze armour.

Each night I have shared Mistress' bed, pleasuring her and being pleasured myself. Aside from when I am working around the camp, collecting wood or occasionally helping with preparing the food, my hands are bound behind my back and I have become so used to this now it seems almost natural. Thus when I pleasure Mistress it is always with my tongue and lips. Occasionally I feel the urge to touch her with my hands, run my fingers over her breasts, hook one through her nipple ring or even her clit piercing but such desires are only fleeting and soon assuaged when she touches me intimately and pulls my mouth to her lush body.

Throughout the journey she has continued to train me both in her language and in the arts of seduction. I have learnt that the blondes are 'seduciar', which translates as 'pleasure slaves' or, the word is the same, 'sex slaves'; they are ponies too, of course. I have learned also by watching them, watching how they stand or kneel, each movement designed to flaunt their bodies, to display themselves as object of desire. I continue to try to imitate them and, after their initial reticence, they seem to have accepted this sometimes showing me how I can improve my posture, the turn of my head, the position of my feet.

Last night they approached me as I knelt in the position I have been taught, with my knees spread and my back arched, shoulders pulled back so that my breasts are thrust forward and my head bowed, Silver squatted beside me, her balance perfectly maintained despite the fact that her hands were cuffed to her thighs.

'Did you know that Mistress Lust likes to have her toes licked ?'

I looked up at her in surprise. It was the first time she had spoken to me openly.

'Try it later.' She said, winking and making a very suggestive gesture with her tongue.

I thanked her and later found that she was quite correct.


We approach the city in the early afternoon having left camp later than usual in the morning. The reason for our slow departure was to prepare ourselves for entry to the city. Desire and Lust bathed together while Silver and Sparkle polished Mistress Desire's chariot and armour. I was assigned to clean Mistress' equipment. Mistress then washed the two captured brunettes, before braiding their hair. They were then given a brief lesson in how to stand and display themselves, threatened with use of the whip if they did not comply.



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Our cleaning duties over, it was time for the ponies and I to bathe. I expected Mistress to come with me but, to my surprise Silver and Sparkle were given the task of readying me. Sparkle quickly tied my hands behind my back and Silver tied a leash to my collar then they lead me, naked and helpless to the stream beside which we were camped. Making me kneel in the water they removed my collar for the first time since my capture and then used a little flask of soapy liquid to wash my hair and my body spending, I thought, more time than was strictly necessary washing my breasts and nipples. Both seemed fascinated by the way my nipples responded and, at one stage, looking round to make sure they were not being watched, both crouched in front of me and suckled on me. I suspected we would all be punished if caught and was anxious at Mistress' reaction, however, kneeling naked in bondage with two beautiful slave girls sucking at my nipples was not a stimulus I could resist and, when Sparkle slipped her fingers between my legs, I came almost immediately, blushing as I did so.

The ponies giggled at my response and Silver put her arms round my neck and kissed me full on the mouth, pushing her tongue between my teeth before I could stop her. As she pressed against me the firm tone of her muscles was obvious, and I could feel the pressure of her little breasts with their stiff nipples. The sensation was exquisite, her gesture so practiced to tease and excite that I felt immediately ready to climax again. Sparkle followed, less sure I thought than Silver, though still utterly perfect in her contact, the pressure against my body, the position of her hands on me, the brush of her lips, the curl of her tongue.

I was left breathless.

'Your turn to please us now.' Silver whispered in my ear.

'Me first.' Sparkle was still crouching in front of me her hand on the side of my neck holding me gently. 'Before you dishonour your mistress again.'

I tried to protest that I would never dishonour my mistress but Sparkle put a finger to my lips and Silver told me I am a naughty girl for coming without Mistress' permission.

'Now it's time for you to make us naughty girls too.'

They stood on either side of me and Sparkle turned my head, guiding my tongue to her pussy. I touched her clit ring with my lip and felt it click against my teeth.

'Gently !'

I stroked her clitoris with my tongue.

'Better.'

Above me Sparkle and Silver kissed, lingeringly, embracing, then their hands started to roam over each other's bodies. I may not be as skilled as them but I it doubt it mattered to my temporary dominatrixes, to be touching each other's bodies with such freedom is probably a rare treat for them. It seemed to take only moments for Sparkle to reach climax and I heard Silver teasing her for her lasciviousness.

'She's quite good actually.' Sparkle told her lover as she turned my face towards Silver making me blush as I began, gently to tease the other girl's sex.

Silver lasted a little longer but it was clear both girls were extremely horny, a state in which I have noticed they spend much of their time. She gasped as she came and Sparkle admonished her but we were not disturbed.

The girls then shaved me. My pubic hair had grown to stubble in the ten days of my captivity. The sensation made me recall being shaved intimately like this before but I could not remember the context. I am, however, fairly sure it was done by a man and that I was tied to something at the time. This is the first inclination I have had that I have not always been gay. Certainly, in this world I have behaved like a lesbian and, I think, in the worlds of my dreams and previous memories this is also true.

Satisfied with the smoothness of my pussy, the girls rinsed my hair and replaced my collar before leading me from the water. They command me to kneel there in the sun while they bathed and I watched as they washed their hair, soaped each other's bodies and dishonoured their mistress at least three more times.

When they emerged from the water they were clearly excited, their gorgeous, lithe bodies radiating happiness; holding hands and I watched them kiss once more before continuing to prepare me. They replaced the flask of soap in the leather pouch whence it came and pulled out several more vials. My hair had dried a little and they rubbed some perfumed oil into it; they then braided my hair plaiting in some white flowers that are growing beside the stream. Next they applied a little gloss to my lips and, making me close my eyes, a little colour to my eyelids.

Sparkle then opened another vial and applied a little rouge to my nipples. The sensation of having them touched again is delightful and they sprung urgently to attention as she ensured the paste was rubbed in. Having watched these two naughty water nymphs cavort I was more than ready to earn myself a punishment or two and having my nipples teased again was almost enough to push me over the edge. I was thus disappointed when Sparkle's teasing fingers left my nipples, leaving me kneeling, panting on the edge of climax.

Seeing my state, Silver laughed and mades a lewd comment, one that unfortunately, even with my rapidly expanding knowledge of Erolian, was beyond my ability to translate exactly. Then I felt it, a tingling in my right nipple like something rough being drawn over it; already stiffly erect it felt as if the nipple was growing further and when I looked down I could see my areole stretching too in the way I have noticed it does when I am very aroused. The same sensation then began in my left nipple and in moments both were standing rigidly erect feeling as if they were being teased with what I can only describe as a rough feather.

I looked up at the two blondes who were giggling frantically and saw Silver whisper in Sparkle's ear. I knew they were planning something and hoped it involved me being brought to the climax my body was craving. Silver disappeared behind me and I felt her draw my elbows together; with a little effort she made them touch and then bound them there. I have seen both blondes stand like this, usually with their wrists cuffed to their thighs or their waists. The position augments their little breasts delightfully.

Thus I found myself kneeling with my breasts thrust enticingly forward and my nipples tingling as if they were swollen like balloons. I shifted on my knees with the sole purpose of trying to rub my sex against one of my legs and heard the blondes giggle again.

Sparkle crouched in front of me again and I watched expectantly as she took another blob of paste on her finger then slipped it finger between my legs leaving a smear of paste across my sex. The effect was much more rapid there, my labia were already wet and swollen, and within seconds it is as if my sex is being licked by a rough tongue.

I climaxed almost immediately but my body instantly craved more so the effect was to leave me frustrated and very aroused looking up at the two blondes knowing I was radiating all the signals of a bitch on heat. They were grinning, both clearly very pleased with themselves.

I refused to beg but I did remember seeing one of my tormentresses bite her lower lip gently when trying to entice Desire to fuck her; I tried to imitate this gesture but the blondes simply giggled.

I thought they were finished but they had one more ignominy for me. Before I could do anything Silver crouched behind me and pushed something into my bottom. Then Sparkle attached my leash and I was pulled to my feet by my collar and lead to Mistress Desire's chariot. Standing with Sparkle holding my leash I watched Silver bend seductively, flashing her sex to me to pull something out of one of her mistress' bags. When I saw what this was my eyes widened; she was holding what looked like a bridle though with a ball gag rather than bit. She told me to open my mouth and stepped behind me. I obeyed eagerly, enjoying a brief climax as the ball was pulled into my mouth, something that did not go unnoticed by either of my tormentors; the thought of Mistress harnessing me and using me as a pony was more than I could bear. However, I soon realised this was no more than a gag, albeit a very sexy one. The blondes then produced a pair of thigh boots in soft pink leather; unlike Mistress' boots these had heels which were about five inches. They laced me into these and lead me tottering, slightly unsteadily to Mistress.

Mistress was clearly pleased with my appearance which I think must have been something between horny slave-whore and fuck-me-bondage-sex-toy.

I am thus now a stranger in a strange land, bound and collared, being lead towards this unknown city, leashed and naked save for my boots, my wrists tied and my elbows pulled hard behind my back to emphasise my breasts; a sex slave, forced to strut thanks to the heels of these fetishistic boots that make my hips sway flaunting my naked bottom, at least, I try to blame the boots rather than my desire to show all around me the wanton sex toy that my captivity has unmasked. As I am lead along, I drool constantly round my gag, saliva running freely onto my breasts and down the front of my body so that my skin glistens in the afternoon sunlight emphasising, my helplessness while the paste on my nipples keeps them massively erect, beacons broadcasting my intense arousal if my salacious state was not obvious already from the flush of my skin which is anything but maidenly. I know that part of my arousal is caused by the rouge on my nipples making them intensely sensitive and guess the plug Silver pushed into my bottom is doing a similar thing but being treated like this is making me so horny I am drooling from my sex almost as much as I am drooling from my mouth.


I am lead up the winding road towards the city gate. This is Pont Rouge which I know somehow is the largest city in Eroilia. I can't help feeling I know a lot of things I could not but when I think of Erolia I cannot help but feel I know it as one would know a fictional land from reading a novel or seeing a holographic picture rather than because I have lived here. I am sure I have seen Pont Rouge before, or at least its walls with their crenelations and elegant high towers. We start to pass a few travelers leaving the city, all women, some with slaves in tow, many of these are pretty pleasure slaves like Sparkle and Silver, like I want to be, naked or provocatively clad, restrained, their eyes flashing seductively. It appears that traveling in Erolia is done with a mix of practicality and style, certainly when one is likely to encounter others on the road. There is no doubt the pleasure slaves are on display, their hair braided, faces painted and, I am clearly not the only one with her nipples rouged. A few of these girls wear chastity belts and I wonder how many hold phalluses inside or how many of the girls have been painted by with the strange paste that has had such an effect on me; certainly most of these slaves are in a clear state of sexual arousal. I watch their movements which, like Silver and Sparkle's are filled with seductive grace. Like me most of them strut on high heels which are way too high to be practical.

Their mistresses also appear to be dressed in finery to travel, silken robes that cling to luscious bodies, brief cotton tunics that show trim thighs, a few wear bustiers and knickers, often in leather; one pretty redhead is corseted, her large breasts apparently in danger of spilling over to expose her nipples.

As we approach the gate we pass a party of women in heavy chains who may perhaps be prisoners or slaves for another purpose, perhaps fighting or labouring. They are lead by a woman in a heavy leather bodice and thigh boots, who has a similar air to Mistress but is not as pretty. They are followed by a pony cart, drawn by a singly pony, harnessed between the traces of her mistress' cart; this is not a chariot like Mistress Desire but a wooden cart laden with goods, and her mistress walks beside her leading her by a nasal piercings, a single ring hanging from the middle of her nose like the one's Sparkle and Silver wear and I can't help imagining what it might be like to be lead along in this manner rather than by a collar as I am now.

A number of those we pass acknowledge Countess Desire, bowing or nodding, however, whether they do this or not, all appear to enjoy the site of the princess' ponies and many look at me too; I am very aware of them studying my naked body, looking at my breasts thrust out by the way my arms were bound so tightly behind me, no doubt noticing how my nipples are erect, obscenely so, and rouged, how my skin glistens with saliva that continuously runs from my gagged mouth perhaps even noticing how the tops of my boots are wet with the secretions that drip from my burning pussy.



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I had never thought that a girl could be kept so aroused for so long and not climax but the paste is clearly some sort of sexual stimulant so that, with every step I ache to be touched and despite my love for my mistress, see every woman who looks at me, slave or mistress, as someone who might satisfy my burning lust. Rather than feel exposed or embarrassed to be so displayed, I thus relish it, hoping that, as well as being studied, I might also be touched.

And then, at the gate I see her, another like me, not a pampered pleasure slave or prisoner but one who I think is new to her captivity, and enjoying as I am the brazen display of her lust. Our eyes meet and I can see the arousal I feel mirrored in her face, the pleasure of being newly enslaved, newly captured, confined to a sensual bondage. Like me she wears thigh boots though hers are a deep red, her collar matches; her arms are restrained behind her in a tight single sleeve. She is a brunette, slim but with larger breasts than mine, breasts which are currently bound with leather thongs, though I don't think this is the reason that her nipples are so swollen and stiff just as I don't think her captivity alone is all that excites her. I think it is more than that and, perhaps more than the stunning leather clad redhead that leads her just as my mistress leads me. She is not gagged and, as we pass she smiles, a genuine expression of joy and an indication of the utter fulfillment she clearly feels as being the sexual plaything of another.

Inside the gate the crowds are thicker though still the same mix of mistress and slave. Along the main street are merchants' stalls and shops selling food and clothing including a leatherwear stall and a shop selling leather restraints where a woman peruses a rack of single sleeves; the next stall is devoted entirely to gags and I see a mistress pushing a newly bought ball gag into the mouth or her blonde slave; further along is a lingerie stall, with a dozen chained slaves displaying a range of lacy bras and knickers, corsets, stockings and suspenders; next to this is a shop selling rope and then another smithy where a buxom redhead is being fitted with steel restraints.

At this point the road opens into a square and Mistress Desire steers her ponies towards and inn. Couples and groups sit at tables outside drinking and being waited upon by serving wenches accompanied by naked slave girls in collars and steel cuffs; the girls work in pairs, the wenches in low cut dresses, with their hands cuffed before them deliver full glasses and collect empties from the tables while their companions, more tightly restrained with their arms cuffed to her thighs and her elbows chained together behind are fitted with a steel tray strapped to the waistband of a chastity belt; the trays are supported by chains from the girl's collars and steadied by chains from nipple rings. Though naked, the tray girls wear impractically high heels that, even were they not bound would make carrying drinks without spilling them a challenge. I note the wenches carry whips in their boots and spot one of the tray girls being chastised for spilling what looks like a glass of red wine.

Mistress Desire drives Silver and Sparkle through an arch while Mistress Lust waits with me and her other two captives. Mistress signals to one of the serving girls who brings a small glass of brown liquid, I think this might be a spirit and this is confirmed from the way Mistress takes a swallow and grimaces then wipes her mouth; she places the glass rather more firmly than is necessary on the accompanying girl's tray and then, with equal force slaps down a coin. The girl with the tray is clearly used to this treatment.

As we wait for Mistress Desire I look around the square; most of the buildings are one or two stories here and made of the local red sandstone but beyond them there are higher buildings, some with elegant tapering towers. Along one edge of the square are more market stalls among which women browse and slaves are lead. One side of the square is lined by a large stone building with sculpted, swirling, black metal grates in the windows and a flag hanging outside. In front of this building are two pillories, one empty and the other holding a buxom, muscular woman; the pillory is at her hip height so she is forced to bend at the waist; she is not surprisingly naked and I see she is gagged with a large wooden ball. Some sort of wooden paddle hangs from the pillory and, as I watch, a woman in a long silken robe with a thigh high slit picks it up and delivers half a dozen slaps on the helpless woman's bottom much to the pleasure of her companions. I can see that the woman in the pillory has pegs clipped to her nipples; these look rather crude and I wonder if they are an official part of her punishment or something that a spiteful passer by has added.

Seeing this woman in bondage reminds me of my own needs and I suddenly realise I am leaning against on of the inn's tables rubbing my sex along the wood, worn smooth by many years' use. It is at this moment that Mistress looks at me and I quickly stand up straight, blushing furiously.

'Be a good girl Toi, or you will end up like that adventuress over there.' Mistress smiles and winks at me. 'Or perhaps you'd like to be treated that way.'

Gagged, I cannot reply but I feel myself blushing even more hotly and look down as submissively as I can to cover my embarrassment. Fortunately, it is at this moment that Mistress Desire returns; the redhead is on foot and is leading my two fellow slaves on their leashes.

'The ponies are stabled and I have booked us a room.' She smiles suggestively at my Mistress. 'Unless you'd rather spend the night with your new pet.' As she speaks Mistress Desire looks directly at me and for a moment my face is so hot I think I might catch fire. I look at my mistress and am surprised to see that she too is blushing and when she sees me she turns away quickly.

My pleasure soars and, in my current lustful state I feel a desire to throw myself at her.

'Come on.' She tugs on my leash. 'I need to get you to the market then get myself a drink.'

I follow behind, my pleasure crashing at my feet.


Chapter 10

TUESDAY/TOIGRIN

We are about to leave the square when I hear a commotion ahead and look up despite my misery to see what is happening. A chariot is entering the square from the road we are heading towards; the chariot is pulled by six ponies, all stunning blondes, their hair a silvery white like the Countess Desire's ponies; their skins are tanned; they are all exquisitely beautiful; each girl wears white harness decorated with silver and silver plumes decorate their bridles; the ponies trot in perfect time, their knees rising to a perfect right angle with each step; like Silver and Sparkle they have bells clipped to their nipples which jingle as they approach though I notice that their breasts are considerably larger than Mistress Desire's ponies and bounce deliciously as they run. It is, however, not the ponies that draw my eye, it is their driver who I realise with astonishment is a man. The driver is bare chested, huge and muscular, blonde, handsome. He is the first man I have seen since my arrival here. The crowd around me seem equally surprised as I am and a hush falls over the square. I notice a few mistresses covering their slave's eyes and a number turning away but many look on admiringly. In my current state of arousal I can't help but feel my body respond but then I look at Mistress and know she is the one I want. I want to plead with her not to sell me, beg her to keep me as her slave but I can do nothing other than look at her desperately over my gag.

'Bloody men !' I see Mistress shake her head and then she pulls on my leash. 'This world would be so much better if we banned them completely.'

I see Mistress Desire give her a stern look but then they both turn away from me and I follow, leashed and helpless and yearning for my mistress.

We plunge into a side alley and the crowds become even denser; though they part for the two dominatrixes in front of me I find myself receiving rather intimate attention from those around me; initially I feel hands brush against me then bodies press against mine; then, as the crowds become more used to our presence I find myself touched by unseen hands which cup my breasts and buttocks and even play briefly with my nipples.

Despite the terror within me, I find myself increasingly excited by this intimate contact and when a hand slips unbidden between my thighs I almost climax but something stops me. It is at that moment Mistress turns round and I blush again.

I see her smile sadly and grab the hand that has just caressed me so intimately, pushing its owner, a pert little brunette hard against a stall selling fruit so that a pile of apples tumble into the street. I hear a sharp cry from the stall's owner but Mistress has already moved on, yanking on my leash to draw me stumbling after her into more intimate caresses.

We enter another square and I know we have arrived.

This is a slave market.

Women cram the square: some chained slaves for sale and some there to buy them. Rows of women in various forms of bondage stand in groups or alone, sometimes on plinths to display them more effectively. Most are naked though a few are clad provocatively, most wear spiked heels or even boots that make them walk on the tips of their toes.

Ahead of me I see a redhead strapped to a pillar, her hands held above her head and a broad strap around her throat; she is fastened to the pillar by her belly and ankles too; the look in her eyes is the same as the woman I passed at the city gates and, I think, the same as the one in mine. I see Mistress Desire lift her hand and tease the redhead's nipples.'

'These are nice.'

The redhead's eyes widen with lust and I think she wants to climax as much as I do but for some reason she doesn't.

'..eash, .issdress.' The redhead begs around her gags.

'Oh, I don't think you're quite ready yet.' Mistress Desire tweaks one of the slave's nipples again and the woman cries out with desire pushing her hips forward.

And then we are past her, passing a four brunettes locked into a steel pillory; each stands upright, heeled shoes hooked over a steel bar; hands locked beside her head; ankles in matching stocks; each faces a different direction; the pillory is mounted on a stand and as she passes Mistress pushes it gently, turning it to examine the next woman on display; the brunettes all have pierced nipples and chains run from these down their bellies, presumably to piercings between their legs.

To my right I can see a slaver auctioning a blonde. The slave has been dressed in black PVC or perhaps rubber and skillfully bound, tight white ropes around her body pinning her elbows together behind her back and her hands at her waist; her knees are tied together and she wears heels that must be at least five inches; the slaver displays her skillfully, turning her and making her totter on her heels, displaying her vulnerability; from what seems to be the rate of the bidding, the crowd appreciate this show as well.

As mistress leads me though the crowd a few of them comment on me calling me 'star maid' which I now know is the Erolian word for blonde. I realise there are very few blondes here both slaves and mistresses. Perhaps blondes fetch a high price.

The thought of Mistress selling me fills me with despair.

A tall woman wearing a very skimpy leather bikini stops my mistress, clearly wanting to buy me; she is not pretty but she is tall and slim and radiates dominance; in my current state I almost want to fall at her feet but Mistress shakes her head; the woman shrugs moving on but not before caressing my breasts with her long delicate fingers; her touch is cool and surprisingly stimulating; I hadn't realised my nipples could get much bigger but I feel them swell as if they are about to burst; the woman winks at me and is gone.

Perhaps, I think, being sold may not be quite so bad.

As we pass through the crowd other hands start to touch me again until it feels that I am being passed from one person to another for appraisal, tested for ripeness like a piece of fruit. One woman hold my hair and slide her fingers inside my pussy, clearly pleased with the hot wetness she finds there. I hear her talk excitedly to mistress and notice Mistress Desire's eyebrows rise in response to the sum offered which I think is five thousand; though I have no idea what that really means, it is clearly a lot for a slave.



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Mistress refuses and starts to walk away but Mistress Desire stops her; while they argue the woman continues to fondle me until I think I will explode with desire; she is touching me intimately, running her fingers across my pussy and playing with my nipples; I am so desperate to come I push myself onto her hand hoping she will bring me to climax but I just can't reach it.

Then the discussion is over and I am lead away trembling with lust.


We finally reach the far side of the square. The blonde in the black latex has been sold and the leather-clad slaver is introducing a pert redhead in a steel pillory who is being lead onto the platform by a leash that seems to be attached to a genital piercing.

I am ready to burst with arousal but somehow, despite the intimate caresses, I haven't climaxed; this is probably why, when Mistress stops in front of a stall selling what look like fighting slaves I push myself against her and rub my body against hers. She tolerates my lust for a few moments and then pushes me away, affectionately, flashing me a smile that fills me with hope.

In response, drop to my knees and spread my legs showing my submission.

For some reason this appears to irritate her and she jerks on my leash pulling me to my feet then calls over the owner of the stall. When the owner turns round I am surprised to see it is a man. He comes over and shakes Mistress' hand.

A moment later he is joined by a buxom brunette in a leather bustier and knickers who is clearly a fighter too, though apparently not a slave though she is clearly built like the muscular women chained and caged around her; I wonder if she is a trainer. She is handsome with strong features and lovely grey eyes that, like her movements, display confidence.

There is a brief discussion but the man's voice is thickly accented and Mistress is facing away from me in the noisy market place and I can't really understand what is being said though I pick up the words 'slave' and 'buy' and 'needs training'. The man looks at me briefly and shakes his head saying I am too scrawny but I notice that the brunette looks at me more carefully. Mistress argues with him and he is persuaded to examine me, a task delegates to the woman. She begins by putting a fist in my hair and tipping my head back roughly, turning it from side to side, then she pulls my lip down and looks at my teeth. While she is doing this I feel a hand on my breast and someone squeezes the nipple. It is at this point that the woman releases my hair and I look down to find it is the man who is groping me. I don't want to be aroused by this, certainly not in front of Mistress but I can't help it. I look at Mistress but she is talking to Countess Desire; the brunette knocks the man's hands away and continues to assess me, taking me by the shoulders and shaking me before spinning me around, I feel her squeeze my arms and then she pulls me against her body placing his hands on my belly; I want her to squeeze my breasts too and, gripped with lust, even push myself against her but her hands do slide down to my thighs. I wait, hoping that she will slip one between my legs but she pushes me away from her and bends to squeeze my calves.

'She has potential.' She says to the man. 'We should take her.'

The man looks at me again. 'Really, Nadia ?' He gestures to the podium on which the redhead in the pillory is being groped by the slaver selling her. 'She looks like a pleasure slave.'

I suppose this is a complement.

There is a further argument where Mistress and Nadia seem to be trying to convince the man to take me and eventually he agrees.

Mistress and the slaver shake hands.

I think I have just been sold.

The slaver hands mistress a token and Mistress passes over my leash.

My eyes mist with tears and I see her turn to me with a sad expression.

'.leashhh, ishdresss.' I beg stepping towards her but the slaver pulls me back. Mistress raises a hand and touches my cheek then turns away and I watch her go.


SPARKLE

We are being punished again, it is very humiliating. We are the highly trained pets of an Erolian aristocrat and here we are crucified in the yard of an inn like common sluts. I suppose we should have learnt by now not to flirt with stable girls but this one was pretty and buxom and seemed very interested in us.

How were we to know that she was so puritanical but then, I suppose, things are different in the city.

Thus we have both been paddled and put on display as a public humiliation, our lush bodies displayed, spread and vulnerable, for the delight of any passing slattern. It is fair to say we have attracted quite a crowd and, I think, a number of women and even two men have come in to view us.

Some have done a lot more than view us ! One of the grooms is supposed to be watching us but she is not doing a very good job and we have thus been repeatedly fondled by members of the crowd; many of whom have been decidedly lascivious, thinking nothing of toying with our breasts, tweaking our nipples and running their hands over our widely spread thighs; one woman even leant down and pushed her tongue into my sex.

We are gagged, of course, large rubber plugs pushed into our mouths and then heavy leather panels strapped across the lower part of our faces to keep us silent and stop us complaining.

As I turn I can see Silver squirming as a dark skinned woman in an almost translucent white silk gown pushes a large phallus into my lover's exposed pussy. Such humiliations are common practice in some parts of Erolia. I noticed an adventuress in the pillory of the square as we trotted in; someone had clipped pegs onto her nipples and she probably had one on her clit too though I couldn't see it; I wouldn't be surprised if she had a crude phallus inside her, quite possible a piece of fruit; there was probably one in both her pussy and her bottom.

Much to my displeasure the woman uses the phallus to fuck my helpless lover who, rather than resisting this humiliation seems to be ridiculously turned on by it to the extent that she arches her back, closes her eyes and moans into her gag as she squirms with pleasure like a common slut. I know she will come unlike Mistress Lust's new pet Tuesday who has ancara root in her bottom to prevent her climaxing.

Silver convulses in her bonds, screaming with pleasure around her gag.

I am unbearably jealous.


TUESDAY

Perhaps it is the effect of whatever has been spread on my nipples or even the drug (I assume that is what it is) pushed into my bottom, perhaps it is that I truely love Mistress. Whatever the cause, as Mistress turns to leave, I feel such a surge of passion within me that I cannot allow her to abandon me without a fight.

Despite my tears I know in that instant what is happening around me and feel a sense of deja-vu though I cannot believe I have been sold in a slave market before.

The slaver holds my leash. He is not a big man and, even though I am restrained I know I can overcome him, enough to escape, enough to reach Mistress. The fighter, Nadia in her leather is more of a threat.

I know what I need to do and shift my weight subtly then kick the slaver hard in the side of the knee moving to my right, towards the buxom leather clad fighting woman in an attempt to jerk my leash from his hands. The slaver's leg buckles and in his surprise I am able to pull myself free.

I turn quickly to my left to avoid Nadia and run towards Mistress calling out to her around my gag. Mistress doesn't hear me above the noise of the market and I run on towards her jostling through the woman in the crowd.

Then I feel a jerk on my leash and nearly fall. It is Nadia, buxom and powerful, there is a smile on her face.

'So eager to leave ?' Her smile is confident and her stance overly so.

I kick her hard in the belly and she doubles over. I try to run but she still holds my leash. My hands are restrained so all I can do is kick her again; even though she is winded she manages to dodge this easily enough and lifts her head, still smiling. I jump into the air and try to kick her face but she dodges with ease.

I realise a crowd has gathered around us, the slaver and her recalcitrant slave.

I try to run again but she holds my leash tight. There is only one thing I can do.

I hurl myself at her, dipping my shoulder and charging her in an attempt to drive myself past her. I hit her hard and think I have done enough to knock her down but she is free and stronger and a skilled fighter and my wrists and elbows are bound. She rolls me over and comes up on top of me leaving me pinned by her weight, my arms completely useless beneath me.

I scream into my gag struggling for all I am worth kicking my legs wildly.

She slaps me but I continue to scream.

Then suddenly Mistress is above me, her face blurred by my tears but I know it is her.

'.leashh misdress, don'. .eave .e' I beg her.

She crouches and strokes my hair.

'Calm my little Toi...'

I still and look at her and she gestures to the women, indicating it is safe to realease me. I stand, awkward in my bondage. There is a huge crowd around me but I am barely aware of them. Nadia holds my leash tightly, she is tense, wary after my last attack on her.

Mistress touches my cheek, stroking it gently.

'Toi..calm...I will return for you, I swear.' She smiles. 'But if you wish to be my slave you must be trained...'

She bends my head down and kisses my forehead then releases me as the slaver limps up.

Mistress turns to Nadia. 'Are you slipping ?'

I see Fighting Mistress Nadia tense, standing to her full height. She is almost a head taller than mistress.

'I'm just teasing.' Mistress smiles and the pair clasp hands then Mistress turns to go.

I see Mistress Nadia look at the slaver and smile. 'I told you she was a fighter.'


SPARKLE

Silver and I are still being humiliated. I thought that when Mistress returned our punishment would end but it is clear that Mistress Lust is upset by being separated from her new slave and Mistress Desire was clearly in a mood to console her.

Our services were thus not required.

Needless to say Mistress was not best pleased to see her two pets being punished in such a degrading manner and at once made her feelings clear to the inn manager, apologising for our lasciviousness and, as way of recompense giving us to be used as common serving wenches for the rest of the evening. We were thus fitted with trays that were clamped tour nipples and forced to serve food and drinks to the inn's customers. With our wrists cuffed to our thighs like the other serving wenches and our upper arm cuffs pulled tightly together behind our backs to make our little breast stick out we were almost as incapable of defending ourselves as when we were strapped to the crosses and had to endure further fondling, tweaking and intimate groping. Thankfully we were still forced to wear the panel gags so we could not be forced to pleasure the crowds who took delight in tormenting and humiliating us.

From what I could gather, our presence was a significant draw and the inn's takings for the evening were the best for some six months. Personally, I think Mistress Desire should be given a share of the profits but I suspect she would refuse it even if it were offered to her.

Silver and I are very dextrous and, under normal circumstances, we would have had little trouble carrying out the tasks assigned us, but in the press of the crowds we could to little to prevent the drinks we carried being spilt and thus had to endure the wrath of our handlers who used their whips extremely freely. They even allowed the punters to chastise us at times too. At one point I was pulled on to the lap of a slim brunette who spanked me hard as she fondled my nipples and then slid her fingers into my pussy.

I'm embarrassed to say that I climaxed almost immediately, kicking my legs and squealing with delight, something that drew a look of displeasure from Silver though I felt it was completely justified as revenge for her disgusting performance in the cross.

Now, with the inn finally closed for the night, we have been given to the staff as reward for their hard work and Silver and I kneel in the middle of a circle of serving wenches and tray girls, barmaids, cooks, grooms and stable lasses. Commoners in other words ! They are in various states of undress with corsets loosed and stocking tops exposed. I have noticed flashes of underwear for most of the afternoon and assume this is common behaviour for these city girls, and that red and lacy seems to be the preferred style. The tray girls are still naked and collared though not so tightly restrained and they kneel on the floor with their wrists cuffed in front of them rather than sit on benches like the other girls. Their trays have been removed as have ours. This is especially a relief to me as I am sure my tray was designed for a more buxom girl meaning my poor nips have been cruelly stretched for several hours. Our arms are still restrained and we are still gagged; our thigh and ankle cuffs on each side have also been tied together with strips of leather to keep us on our knees.



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The buxom stable lass is among them, flashing her assets like the harlot she surely is and, despite all the trouble she has caused us still seems to be ogling me. I don't think her motivation for punishing us earlier was anything to do with her disapproval of us, I think she wanted to humiliate with us.

The girls have threaded leather straps through some of our piercings to better control us, we are thus linked by our clit piercings, so that we can move about three feet apart but no further, that is to opposite ends of the circle but not beyond without the other coming too; there are thongs through our nipple and nasal piercings too.

The girls have been sharing flasks of mead and some bread and chicken while we have knelt helpless and gagged; other than the occasional suggestive comment they have ignored us until the flasks have been round the circle a few times. It is at this stage that Buxom Stable Lass suggests our gags are removed.

'Better give 'em a drink before they start.' She suggests.

One of the bargirls fetches two bowls and mead is poured for us while a groom removes our gags.

Mistress doesn't usually let us drink and we have not eaten since breakfast; what follows is thus predictable as two highly sexualised and submissive pets have the last of their inhibitions removed.

Silver and I are good, very good, and the drink does nothing to inhibit our oral skills and thus, giggling with delight we begin to serve our temporary mistresses. Buxom Stable Lass is first and I am guided too her by my nipple leash. I find her extremely responsive as I bring the full force of my tongue to bear upon the juicy lips of her pouting pussy guided by her fist on the thong attached to my nasal ring. She is quickly and easily satisfied though I find myself disappointed not to be able to nuzzle her heavy breasts or nibble at her nipples with my teeth.

With BSL satisfied, temporarily at least, my nipples guide me to the rather pert serving girl who was responsible for Silver when we waited at table. I think Silver has already pleasured her this evening, I noticed the two of them disappearing into a store cupboard just off the main corridor to the kitchen and, a few minutes later, I noticed how flushed both of them were. I don't blame Silver, of course, for this indiscretion, I would have done the same in her place; we are slaves after all and both therefore subject to the will of others. PSG clearly enjoys having her nipples teased as the first thing she does is use my nasal ring to guide me to one of her rather small breasts; I soon find her nipples are very sensitive and that she likes them to be bitten; I feel her shudder as she nearly comes when I bite her right nipple and rub it with my tongue. She soon guides me down her belly to her pussy which is neatly shaved and has a clit ring which she threads my leash through before laying back and spreading her legs.

When I leave PSG panting I am guided by a tattooed and pierced barmaid to one of the kneeling tray girls. I can feel Silver moving behind me and feel a tug on my clitoris meaning I have to lean forward to reach the little redhead in her snug collar. I suspect that on any other night it would be her in the circle pleasuring the others. She clearly wants to kiss me and I lean in to touch her lips which are warm and soft. She is clearly good with her lips and, I soon find, with her tongue too. She is also a very hot little thing and before I know it she has her hands on my nipple rings and is using them to hold me close to her. I squirm and she calls me a naughty girl telling me that, if she wasn't cuffed, she would put me over her knee and spank me hard. I continue to kiss her and feel her hands move down my body as she presses her breasts against mine; I feel our nipple rings click together and then her fingers slide into my pussy. I might be an exquisitely trained pleasure slave but I have needs and despite an awful lot of stimulation they have not been met for several hours; I therefore come almost immediately. This make my little HLT giggle and tell me that I am definitely going to get a spanking now. I call her mistress and beg her forgiveness and she tells me that if I please her sufficiently she will let me off my punishment, for the moment at least, and with that she leans back spreading her thighs and I bend forward to push my tongue between them.


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Friday, August 17, 2018  

Exquisite! I loved the VR aspect! Can't wait for future chapters!

Wednesday, August 15, 2018  

Another extraordinary fantasy from your fertile mind. I wonder how you manage to keep up the pace but I certainly won't complain (although I admit to being a little jealous)!
Cheers, Absolutist

Thursday, August 02, 2018  

Pain and Love! Great Story!

Monday, July 30, 2018  

Really very nice. Surreal and filled with detail. Can't wait to read more. Thank you!!!!

Monday, July 30, 2018  

I love it, it's really a different thing and I'd love to read more about this world you've built. And the aspect of Virtual Reality being taken that far is an incredibly intruiging thing, at least for me!


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