The Hotel
  • Author - Morlock
  • Rating -   
  • Site Rank - 193 of 2955
  • Story Codes - M-f, consensual, armbinder, bondage, breathplay, chastity, enema, extreme, games, spanking, suspension, torture, toys, watersports
  • Post Date - 11/5/2010

Author's Note:A 6 part series about a young man who expands his hobby into a lifelong career and makes a fortune with it.

Chapter 1 - The Mountaintop

My new guest was due any time. I insisted on a strict timetable, so that two clients never saw each other. Discretion was at the top of my guaranteed services. She had just five minutes left to get here, or I would push the button that would close the electric gate. If that happened then she would have to explain, by secure email, just why she was tardy, then accept a reschedule. Fortunately, that would not be the case here - on the security monitor, I saw a car pull into the driveway and start up the steep hill - that had to be her.

I walked out to wait for her to pull up to the office, then waved her to follow me to a waiting single car garage, next to her reserved room. Once the car was parked, and the door pulled down and secured, I invited her to my office for some instruction. She was tall, thin, nicely breasted, about thirty-five years of age, and, from the look of the 'Benz she drove up in, well off. The clothes she was wearing were definitely not from the local department store chain. But, this was no surprise - all of my clientele were wealthy, or they couldn't afford my services. She was nervous, like all new clients, and refused my offer of a cup of coffee or glass of soda.

"Please sit down, ma'am." No names here, although I knew who she was. My clients were spooky enough without giving them a reason to worry. She sat down in the very comfortable chair across from my desk, but definitely didn't relax. I pulled up her file from the database, decrypted it and began to study it.

"Before you start," she said and paused to form her thoughts. That was the first time I had heard her voice. "If the information that I gave you should get out in any way..." I held up my hand.

"Please, ma'am," I interrupted, "let me make my usual welcoming speech." I pointed to my computer. "Before I became a specialty innkeeper, I was what is known as a geek, a nerd, a computer expert. Everything that I know about you - all correspondence, notes, requests, in short everything that is written down about our business relationship is in here. I just pulled up the file that I have started on you. It resides in an encrypted file on an encrypted drive, that I just accessed by decrypting just your information. As soon as I am finished with it, it will be re-encrypted and put back. Or if nothing is done with your file for more than 10 minutes, it automatically unmounts and disappears. Or if I hit an emergency key, it does the same." I had no idea if she was following me or not. "If the computer is stolen, your data will of course be stolen with it, but according to encryption experts, your data can not be extracted and read by any known means on the planet." Plus, I had a lot more security barriers than that, including the detail that I had just lied in fact, if not in overall conception, to the lady. This computer had nothing on it of importance, and was just the terminal that I used to get to the real computer - one that was vastly harder to steal, and by the time anyone got to it, there would be nothing to take except some blank hardware.

"Protecting my client's identity and information is at the forefront of everything I do here. I have two other customers here at the moment, and you will never see them, nor them you. Do you have any questions about your anonymity?"

She shook her head. "I have to trust you, but this isn't easy. If the slightest hint of my actions here gets out..." She almost shuddered.

I smiled. It was time to move on. "From your questionnaire, you wish to be restrained, preferably standing and fully clothed for a period of four hours. No punishment or torture. No sexual acts. Interesting for a beginner, you don't want a safe word." That would tell me that she was through playing and wanted to be turned loose. "You have put two question marks next to gagged and blindfolded." I waited.

"I... I'm not sure. Would it be possible to try them?"

"Ma'am, ANYTHING here is possible. The client is in charge and I do exactly what they want." I think that she was slightly relaxing, which was very important. It was not unknown for a woman to jump up and flee in panic as she realized what she was about to engage in. "May I make a suggestion. Or a couple of suggestions. The blindfold is fine, some really like it. But a gag can be fairly cruel for a person who has never worn one. I wouldn't want to subject you to what might be a very unpleasant experience your first time." I got in the idea that she would hopefully be coming back. "But, I would suggest that I might install a smaller ball gag during your last 30 minutes. That would give you an idea of what it felt like without chancing a very painful jaw cramping.

She nodded. I think she was almost afraid to speak.

I stood up. "Are you ready?"

She reached down and picked up a small valise. In a very hesitant voice, she said, "I have some clothes here that I would like to change into."

I nodded. This was a very common request. In the bag would be a set of clothing that she would never even think of allowing anyone to see her in.

A few seconds later, we entered her room, number 2. It looked like a normal hotel room - no bondage equipment or racks, and no whips or other toys on the wall - except for two chains hanging from the ceiling, and two laying on the floor, attached to ring bolts in the tile floor. "Please change into anything you wish to wear and push that button by the door."

This gave me a chance to check on the customer in suite 5. This was a fairly plump redhead, age thirty-two. She was standing, totally naked, bent over at the waist and head hanging down, legs spread widely and fastened. Her arms were in manacles behind her and were pulled up toward the ceiling by a rope that was fairly taut. I could see a puddle on the floor where she was drooling around the large ball gag. Looking at my electronic scheduler, I saw that it was time for her next punishment. I picked up a dildo that I had placed on the side table when her session began. Then I unhooked a small gold chain that went from a band around her waist, down and through the crack of her pussy, back up through a small retention loop in the dildo she was wearing in her ass, then up to the waistband. I slowly pulled the dildo out of her ass, leaving a gaping hole about an inch across. As it slowly began to close, I began to insert the new dildo that I had pre-lubed at the beginning of the session. This plug was considerably larger than the one that just came out - a fact that my client noticed as it went in. She began the most erotic - for me - moaning as the dildo went home. I hoped that she was enjoying herself, since she was scheduled for an even larger dildo in an hour.

I looked at the light over the door of room number 2. It was now on so I then reentered. My new client had changed into a nice looking outfit, although as I had guessed, not one that she would wear around anyone she knew. A tank top, skin tight miniskirt and four inch spike heels. She would not meet my eyes, obviously embarrassed by her new wardrobe. I acted as though she was still wearing the upscale suit that she came in with, but still enjoyed the sight of her nipples trying to poke through the tank.

"Step over here, ma'am. This method of restraint" - I made sure not to say bondage - "is not painful, but becomes uncomfortable after a while. And it is real. I don't do play acting here. Once you are in it, you can't escape from it by yourself." She was almost fearful, looking at the chains, but I could also detect some beginning arousal.

"Excuse me," I said, then stooped down and began to fasten her ankles into the metal cuffs. They were still unattached at the ends, so she still stood there with her legs together. Then I lifted her arms, one at time, and fastened them into the wrist cuffs. Her hands hung in front of her, about chest high. "Do you wish to continue," I asked. "If so I will spread you out and leave you here for the agreed upon time. I will not check on you, so you will stay restrained here till your time runs out." She nodded. Do you still wish the gag at the end of thirty minutes?" I asked. She nodded again. Speech was beyond her at the moment. She was about to engage on something that she had probably dreamed about since a little girl, but never in her wildest dreams thought she would ever try. "The blindfold?"

This time she actually spoke a couple of words. "Yes, please."

I pulled the ankle chains to the side and fastened them to the floor rings with snap clips, then pulled on the overhead chains, which ran through pulleys, and fastened them to the same floor rings. Then on went the blindfold. She was now really and truly spread - not stretched, but there was very little play in her bonds. "You have begun, ma'am. You will not be released for four hours."

As I opened the door, she said, obviously on a sexual impulse, "Put my gag in halfway through." Hmmm, I thought and left.

The client in number 3 was ready to be released. She had been standing for three hours in vertical stocks, her head and wrists through holes in a large scissor board, and her feet spread widely in another. Both horizontal boards were bolted between two massive posts, so the woman could wiggle, but not much else. She was wearing a set of leather panties inside of which three sets of wires disappeared. A butterfly vibrator on her clit, one in her pussy and an egg up her ass were connected to a computer. I had written the program myself, naturally, and it could be set to one of many stimulation patterns. The different vibrators would be triggered at intervals that appeared to be random, but in fact were closely choreographed by me. She had selected, through me, a program that would tease for a few hours, then gradually raise the stimulation to a massive assault about fifteen minutes before her time was up. It must have worked, she was wringing wet, with her hair hanging in damp strings.

I unlocked both scissor boards, loosened the belt on the panties, then slowly dropped them while making sure that the three vibrators followed. The one in her ass needed a little help, but it popped out with a gentle pull on the wires. I smiled at her and left, making sure that the exit light over the door was green. If the red light was on, the client would know to stay in her room until the green lamp signaled that there was no danger clients could see one another.

My pocket reminder beeped again, and I again entered suite 5 that I had left an hour before. Once again, I removed the current dildo, and began to insert one that was again, considerably larger than the previous one, which made it MUCH larger than the one she had started with. She had never come close to that size in previous sessions, but many women selected procedures or objects knowing that it was going to be unpleasant, but the fact that they were helpless to stop the action was erotic in itself.

As her asshole began to try to accommodate the massive intrusion, she wiggled and squealed, obviously trying to speak around her gag. She also had selected no safe word, or object to drop, so I ignored the thrashing and unintelligible noise. Slowly the dildo entered until the rubber flange bumped up against her bottom. I replaced the chain, stepped back to enjoy her torment for a few moments as she futilely tried to break or pull the chains loose so that she could reach the device that was painfully stretching her asshole, then left for my office.

A few minutes later, number 3 entered my office, having showered and restored herself to some semblance of normality. After some polite conversation, in which she expressed her satisfaction, once again, with my services, she deposited a fat envelope on my desk and I walked her to her car.

The women in rooms 2 and 5 were the only guests I had at the moment. Actually, that was almost full occupancy for this place. Another was due later - she would stay for the night. At the appropriate time, I entered suite number 2 quietly and before she could speak, assuming she wanted to, placed a medium sized ball gag in the guest's mouth and wrapped the velcro ends around her head. It was an hour till she was to be let loose, not the two hours that she had requested as I left the room at the start. I knew that even an hour with the gag would start getting very uncomfortable - two hours on a person whose jaws were not trained to be jammed open would be very non-erotically painful. Even so, at the end of the hour she would be thinking that it had been in all day.

Toward the end of her ordeal, my next guest arrived. An old timer - she had been with me since almost the beginning, coming about every other month. I would spread eagle her naked with bungee cords on a waterproof pallet that sagged sort of like a shallow hammock. I knew that she would have been drinking as much caffeinated beverage - soda, coffee, tea - during the day as she could hold. As she lay there all night, her bladder would finally signal that it had to be released. Due to her intake, that would happen several times during the night. She would be forced to lay in the ever deepening puddle until I released her in the morning. At that time, she would furiously masturbate, still laying there, then shower and leave.

The world takes all kinds, and I am not judgmental.

My scheduler signaled the end of my new client ordeal. I entered room 2, removed her chains, gag and blindfold. She let out a sigh of relief, and almost shuddered. At this point, I had no idea if I had a steady customer or not. "You may remain in this room as long as you wish, until you are ready come to my office. You may wish to shower." Or furiously finger yourself off, as soon as I leave, I added mentally. "Please do not leave if the red light over the door is on." It was green right now.

She must have needed to relieve her stresses, since it was almost an hour before she appeared, much more calm than when she arrived. I motioned her to the big chair. "I hope that your experience was what you expected, ma'am."

"It was not at all what I had imagined, but yes, it was quite satisfying, thank you." She also, handed me an envelope, that I placed in a desk drawer. Good, I had made it clear that if the guest was not totally satisfied, then the service was free. Some short conversation ensued, then I walked her to her car.

This had been a week that was too busy. I normally only allowed two clients per week at the most, since I didn't want a large stream of traffic in and out everyday. That would most definitely cause the locals to wonder about the supposedly closed hotel. However, this week I made an exception since I planned to go on vacation for the next twenty days or so.

The next morning, after I had released my only overnight guest, I closed up, gathered up the contents of the envelopes that I had been given all month, and drove over the state line to the big city. I had a contact there - a bookie, just to mention his main line of business - who would, at a discount, exchange my greenbacks for gold pieces. These would be stashed at various places around the state, underground and very unlikely to ever be found. I assumed that someday the details of my business might become known, either through the actions of an unsatisfied customer, a detective following a client, or any one of a number of reasons. What I was doing was not illegal - all clients were there of their own accord - but I doubt that the citizens of the county would just ignore the news of a bondage hotel on the mountaintop. When that happened, I had no intention of my hard-earned money being seized by civil courts in the fallout of the disclosure so that various attorneys could get themselves new BMWs.

On the way back, I stopped in the local town for supplies.

After a few years of operating my bondage hostel, I could usually categorize a new client on the first interview. Very few just came in fresh as full bore subs. These were all women who fantasized about bondage, but were never able to practice it.

A certain number just wanted to be restrained. They never did any more than be chained by the neck to a bed overnight, or hogtied for an afternoon. Just the feeling of not being able to leave the room or bed for a certain time satisfied their cravings for domination.

Some would start just light B&D, but would gradually increase their desire for bondage to much more strict confinement, and punishment. Such as being spread eagled for the day with dildos, or vibrators, light whippings or sex. These eventually found the level they wanted and were happy to request that from then on.

A small number became hard core subs. They would move from light confinements to fairly normal B&D activities. But instead of stopping there, they would reach the point to where they wanted real B&D. Tight bondage for days, hard sessions under the whip, major punishments. Eventually, these would reach the point to where they would offer to become real and permanent slaves. I wondered what to do with them.

At the back of the property, was a cave. I could remember it as a boy as being huge, but that is all. It was just a big bubble in the rock, and had nothing to entice tourists - no long passages, or stalactites, or pools of water with blind fish. Eventually, I began to look for it, found the closed up entrance, and began to dig the rubble away. Once I got it open, I explored it and found it to be vastly smaller than the mile deep cavern that I remembered as a child. It was longer than wide, about 200 feet to the back wall, and maybe 40 feet wide on the average, with a wide grotto about a third of the way back. It was plenty tall, however, in some places almost 30 feet to the rock overhead. I decided to make it into a subterranean dungeon. Some of my clientele might get off on the idea. It would not be easy - running power and water a hundred feet to a underground location, on a mountaintop that was mostly rock, was going to be a summer long project, especially since the utilities and entrance had to be hidden.

Three years before...

Three years before, the postman dropped off a yellow card that indicated I had a certified letter at the post office. I was puzzled, since I knew of no reason for anyone contact me in that way. I was just a average wage slave doing his time in an 8 to 5 sentence. The next day was a major surprise when I retrieved the letter. It was a genuine rich uncle scenario. In this case, it really was my uncle and as far as I knew, he was rich - at least, I knew he had a lot more money than I had ever seen.

In short, after a few weeks, I was in possession of a tidy sum of money - not enough to retire to Rio, but definitely enough to make my life much easier if I used it wisely. And - another surprise - I was now the owner of a hotel. A hotel? Specifically, the Mountain View Overlook Hotel. I barely remembered visiting the establishment as a child. I definitely remembered the neat cave at the back of the property.

The next weekend, I got up early on Saturday and headed for the border. In an hour or so, I was in the vicinity of my new property. I was on a winding road, well maintained but almost totally absent of cars. Finally, at the top of the mountain, I came to the sign which displayed ...iew Overlook Hotel. It was falling down, and the first two words of the name were missing. In almost a state of shock, I drove up the steep unpaved driveway and came to an abandoned sprawling set of cinderblock structures that resembled a hotel - sort of. I got out and walked around, as my vision of a new and lucrative career crashed in flames. The hotel was built solid, and was still intact, but was badly in need of lots of repairs. Unfortunately for any future plans, this part of the state was and had been a depressed area for decades - no jobs, no factories, just a few hardscrabble farms with indifferent crops. Not exactly a hot tourist destination. I found out later, when I bought gas, that the reason for the lack of traffic was the new Interstate extension that paralleled it just a couple of miles west.

After leaving my hotel, and my capitalistic dreams behind, I headed back home. A few months later, I was laid off as the owning corporation downsized and closed the plant. They were decent about it - I got a good severance, and money for searching for a new job. This wasn't the disaster that it would have been a year before. With the money part of my inheritance, I was drawing, if not good interest, enough income to live on as long as I watched my spending. And I watched it very closely. With my severance pay, I had leisure to look for my next career. Which turned out not to be anything close to what I would have ever expected.

The forced vacation had a couple of good points, mainly in the form of two semi-girlfriends on which I practiced B&D. I had been playing with these two for about three years - before them there had been others. It was strictly a companionship of sex - we never dated or met outside of my leased house, fully equipped with a windowless dungeon which gave the three of us hours of pleasure. I had been interesting in tying up women since before puberty. I loved to play games with my sister where I captured her and held her captive, tying her hands with little ropes. Of course, at that age, the sexual connotation of the play action was not there at all and I had no knowledge of why it gave both of us enjoyment.

About a month after my job disappeared, I got a letter that was puzzling, in all aspects. All it said, was "Mr. Tatum, I would like to meet with you to talk about a position that might interest you. You will receive remuneration for any services that you provide. If you are interested, please come to (an upscale cafe, in the good part of town) this Friday at 6pm. Ask the doorman for Francisco." What the heck? I was a pretty good jack-of-all-trades worker and a very good programmer (my opinion), but I certainly had no skills that couldn't be found in any employment office.

On Friday, I headed to a cafe that I would never have entered under normal circumstances. After parking in a lot with a ridiculous fee scale, I walked up to the doorman and inquired for Francisco, whoever that was.

The doorman pointed me to a desk, behind which sat the Matre d' - Francisco, I presumed. I suddenly realized that I didn't know what to ask. Something like "Excuse, me. I am here to meet someone whom I have never seen and know nothing about. Could you tell me where he is?" didn't seem to be a request that would come across well in an upscale establishment. However, the problem was immediately solved, when he looked up and inquired, "Mr. Tatum?" "Yes," I answered and nodded. "Please follow me."

With that, we crossed through a dining room, down an exquisitely decorated hall and into a small, and just as well turned out private room. "Please make yourself comfortable." And left, closing the door behind him.

As I sat there, imaginative thoughts of what was happening raced though my mind. Were these people recruiting mules to transport drugs, or money, or did they want my skills to crack ATM's? I couldn't, but maybe they thought my computer skills lay in that direction. I certainly didn't know of any abilities that I had that would justify this experience. Maybe they were... The door opened and a woman entered.

A very nice looking woman, about thirty or so, very well dressed. Obviously way upper class. Way, way over my class. She walked up to the table. "Mr. Tatum? My name is Stefanie. Please sit down." I had started to get to my feet. She eased herself into the chair opposite of mine and looked me over for a few seconds.

"Mr Tatum, what I have in mind has nothing to do with any illegalities, or anything that the authorities would care about. What we say between us is completely confidential. Do you agree?"

She waited for my nod.

"Very well. You've been playing sexual games with my niece, Melody."

Oh shit! My world started coming apart. No doubt she had a couple of goons just outside the door waiting for the signal to enter and remove my appendages one by one, and disposing of the rest in the river. But, before I could start forming any kind of sentence, she went on. "She says that you are not only very good at it, but you are very discreet. Specifically, you have not bragged to the rest of your male cohorts that you have been shagging her and her friend, as she puts it." She waited for my reply.

Carefully, I answered, slightly shocked that the language did not fit the appearance. "I enjoy those games, as you have put it. It has been my only hobby since... well, for a long time. Melo... Your niece has been a good friend for as long as we have been... playing together. I have no intention of jeopardizing that relationship by blabbing about it to outsiders. Girls wanting to play B&D games are not found every day." A thought occurred to me. "And speaking of which, how do you know about our relationship? Did she...?"

She held up her hand. "That isn't important, but you may ask Melody if you wish." She leaned forward. "I want you to practice your skills on me." She waited a few moments. "Are you shocked?" The answer was yes, but I said nothing, just waited. "I have been a..." She paused for a second. "...sub? Yes, sub is what Melody called it. All my life. I have always known that. On the infrequent occasions that my husband bothers to have sex with me, I always pretend that I am tied down and unwilling. I alway have fantasized my being in bondage, or being tortured, one way or another, during sex, including when I do it alone." She leaned back in the chair. "My husband only cares about sex when the pressures force him to. If I mentioned my fantasy to him, ...well, I have trouble imagining what he would say or do."

I began to come to life. Carefully, feeling my way, I said, "Are you asking for me to... uh, put you in a bondage situation during which I would... " I couldn't say screw or fuck to this woman. "Uh... perform sex on you?" It is hard to be discrete when you think you are being asked for a session of bondage with fucking.

She leaned forward again, and in a low voice. "No. I want you to place me in a total bondage situation for several days. Totally helplessness on my part. No matter what I say or do, you will not release me or cease your torments. And it has to be real. Such that I can't refuse or escape. " She let a deep breath out with a slight shudder. "I am somewhat older than you, but I believe that my body is not altogether uninteresting to a young man." THAT was an understatement. I was hoping that I didn't have to stand up any time soon, or just how interested that I currently was would stand out at full attention. "In addition to your having full use of my body during the session, I will also be very generous in my remuneration of your services."

She paused and waited as I was obviously thinking over her statements. After some thought, I said, "When would you want to do this? And where? My house would..."

"NO," she interrupted. "It can't be in this town. You will need to find a spot, very private, and a considerable distance away. I can take no chances of this EVER becoming known. Nobody will know of it but you and me. Even Melody can't know - I just led her to believe that what she told me of what you and she do, is merely interesting, but of no consequence."

I continued thinking in silence, but a plan was trying to form. "Do you want to do it immediately, or can I have some time to fix it up?"

"You can take all the time you want - months if needed. I have no problem waiting, if that will increase the security of this... tryst. Just thinking that it will happen eventually is quite satisfactory for now."

The next day...

I am a do-it-yourselfer, with amateur skills in most building trades - I built all of the bondage equipment in my dungeon. What I don't know about, I can learn.

The next day, I headed for my hotel on the mountaintop. Once there, I closely examined the place, trying to find the room or room that could be rehabilitated with the least effort. Fortunately, my property was miles from any incorporated city, and there were no statewide building codes, so I could do anything I wanted to the place without worrying about inspectors showing up to complain about my lack of licenses or permits. I stopped by the sheriff's office to introduce myself so that I wouldn't be getting surprise visits from a deputy thinking I was a squatter or whatever. To their questions, I answered that I had no plans to open the hotel, but just to make part of it livable so that I could move in. I explained that I was a freelance programmer who liked living in a rural setting where I could concentrate on my coding in peace.

The power and water were no problem, just a matter of finding the offices and paying the deposits. Fortunately, the hotel was so remote that vandalism hadn't totally trashed the place. There were a few broken windows, and a couple of doors were missing. The hotel long predated in room air conditioning, so if it had ever had any, either those units had been removed or stolen. But, being high in the Ozark mountains, air conditioning wasn't a totally necessity like it was down in the flatlands.

I selected a couple of rooms and began to clean them out. Some time in the past, the original roof had been replaced with more modern metal sheeting, so weather leaks were fairly few. I scrubbed the rooms, and adjoining bathrooms, gave then a new tile floors, new paint and curtains on the walls, and ripped down the ancient ceiling tiles and glued new ones on. The bathrooms got the same, along with some new fixtures and plumbing. After several of weeks of intensive effort, I had two new, nice smelling, mountaintop apartments. The last thing to do was mount some convenient attachment rings in various locations in the floors, walls and ceilings. I was going to renovate the office area, into, well, my office and quarters. So far, all I had done was clean it up and move in a bed and some kitchen appliances - 'fridge and microwave. I began to transfer some dungeon furniture and living items from my house, along with a full supply of toys. Then I repaired the gate, fixed a few sections of fence, and decided that I was ready.

Stefanie looked around the hotel and into the special rooms. She noticed the automatic gate other security features. "Very good," she commented. "How did you come up with all this so fast?" I explained about my uncle and my inheritance. She fingered the chains, ropes, whips and all the paraphernalia hanging on the wall. I assumed that she knew all about such items, but it was possible that this was the first time she had actually seen and felt any. She she seemed fascinated by the chains, especially. Pulling and tugging on them, one by one.

I needed to find out the specifics of what she was wanting. "Stephanie." She had asked me to call her by her first name. "I don't know how much you talked to Melody about B&D play, but we need to lay out the rules."

She spun around and looked at me hard. "First off,"she said, "there are no rules and this is not play. I want it real. When we start, I expect total domination just as if I were owned by some Arab in the desert."

Wow, I thought. She continued. "As far as asking how far your actions can go, all you have to take into consideration, after the week is over, is that I have to go back home to my husband, without any permanent indication of what I have been doing. That presumes that I have no brands, or deep lashes, or tattoos and so forth." She played with the chains again - I began to realize that she got off on chain. "This may be the only time I can be a real sub - I want to experience it fully. You will give no consideration to my protests, demands or threats for the entire week. Do you agree?" What could I do but nod.

We headed for town, and an excellent dinner that cost about what I paid to eat on for a week. She talked about her life, her nieces, her husband, anything at all except B&D, but I could see her thinking in the background about what she was about to go through. I realized that I when we got back, I had to forget her status in the community and start acting like she was some slut from the wagon yard - immediately. I wondered how her imagination would coincide with the actuality of being a slave. As we drove back into the mountains, she gradually ceased to talk, obviously dwelling on what was about to happen. Well, she wanted it real. She was going to get real in spades.

Back in her room, I gave her a simple pullover cotton dress and told her to put it on by the time I got back. She was already getting into the mood, and said nothing but "Ok" as I left. I gave her a few minutes, then entered the room again with a sack. "Put all your clothes in here," I ordered. She folded them carefully, and placed them in the sack. I noticed that there was no underwear in the stack, so either she didn't wear any on the drive up here - unlikely - or she had an attack of modesty and left them on. No matter, that problem would be easily solved. "Stand over here." She complied.

I connected the floor chains, still unattached to anything at the other end, to her ankles, then her wrists to the chains hanging from the ceiling. I stood up and looked at her. Her full tits were heaving as her respiration speeded up with the realization that this dream was about to become true. Then the week began. I pulled on each floor chain and attached them to rings with her legs spread as widely as possible. Then I pulled on the wrist chains until her body was stretched into a big female X. I walked around her, examining the merchandise - a beautiful slave girl and I was anxious to see what she really looked like. But I was going to do this on a very carefully choreographed schedule. Not just a week long fuck fest. At the end, she would either hate her dream, or become addicted to submission.

As I stood looking at her, I was waiting. And the wait wasn't long. She looked up at the chains coming from the ceiling and said, "My, this is really tight on..." That is as far has she got. I put my hand across one side of her face, nowhere near hard enough to do any damage, but definitely hard enough to sting badly. She recoiled back in shock - this may have been the first time in her life that any man had ever hit her.

"First rule, bitch!" Another shock - I doubted that many men had called her by that name, either. "I don't care what your opinion is - on anything! The second rule, is that you don't speak unless asked a question!" I pulled a ball gag off the wall, moved around behind her, reached around and pushed it into her mouth. I don't think she knew what it was, since she didn't resist and just let me push it between her lips. I fastened it behind her head. I then pulled on the wrist chains to stretch her to where her heels were just leaving the floor. Then I left her, and went back to the office.

I sat down, since my heart was beating just about as rapidly as hers, and began to plan out the week. Before tonight, I had no idea just what kind of bondage she wanted. Now, she told me and I was going to give her exactly that.

An hour later, I stepped back into the room. The only thing that had changed was that she had drooled down the front of the cotton dress. I pretended to look through the sack that contained her clothes, then picked up a riding crop and walked over to her. "How are the chains?" I asked, pleasantly. "Do they feel like what you dreamed about?" Of course, the only answer that came around the ball gag, was "Hmmmf," which could have been yes or no. I casually reached up and grabbed hold of her left breast, and she tried to retreat backward. She managed a couple of inches. The first time that happened by another man, I would bet. She was going to have a lot of firsts this week. I could tell that she still had her bra on under the dress. I hardened my expression and said, "Did I not tell you to put ALL your clothes in that sack?" She just nodded rapidly, but tried to say nothing. I walked behind her and whacked her bottom with the crop - a very gentle hit, compared to what she would feel later. Nonetheless, she lunged forward as far as her bonds would allow, which was only a few inches. I popped her again, this time harder. "Answer me, bitch." She immediately got a "eessss!" around the gag.

I walked over to a cabinet on the wall, and pulled out a pair of scissors. Standing in front of her, I said, "You are going to learn real fast, that when I say something, I mean it. Your old life is over. You've just begun your new career. Do you want to know what it will be?" As I was talking I reached down and picked up the front of her dress far enough to see the front of her bra. With the scissors, I cut the strap between the cups, getting just a glimpse of some beautiful white titties as they fell out and the dress fell back down. Then, reaching up and through the wide neck of the cotton pullover, I cut both shoulder straps. The white bra fell to the floor. I had also noticed that, of course, she still had her panties on. I moved behind her, lifted up the dress and cut them off also. The whole time, I continued speaking.

"You want to play what you thought is a game. I don't play games, I do bondage for real. You left town telling everyone that you were meeting some old school girlfriends in New York City. You drove here as secretly as possible. Nobody knows where you are. Are you getting the picture?" She was watching me with fairly wide eyes, but said nothing. "I'm afraid that your one week play vacation has been extended indefinitely. I am going to keep you as my slave, till I get tired of you - probably years from now. Then I will probably drive you down to the border and sell you to a bordello. They are always looking for white gringo ladies to service the locals." Her eyes were really open now. "What you don't know - what nobody knows about - is that there's a cave hidden below this hotel. I've fixed it up as a perfect dungeon for you and my other slaves. You will be permanently chained by the neck to a rock. You will sleep on some straw. You will piss and shit in a bucket. And you will eat whatever scraps that I may throw to you. And, during the whole time all of your holes will be used by me for whatever purpose I choose."

Of course, the dungeon cave I was speaking of was in the future, and there weren't any other girls. But I tried to make it believable. I continued, "In a week or so, I assume that the police in New York will start frantically looking for this female swell who came to their city and disappeared. I assume your husband won't feel too bad eventually, with all the young bitches around who would just love to service a rich plant owner." I could almost hear her trying to tell herself that this was just a game, but all the while trying to hold down the terror that I might be serious.

I swatted her lightly on the back, and butt, and continued. "You are now just a cunt with a set of holes for my use. Forget your fancy ivy league education. You are no longer an I, or a me." Standing behind her, I put my arm around her side, and held the whip in front of her face. "Do you know what the punishment is if the cunt should forget any of this?" She violently shook her head. I pulled my arm back and let her have a good one on her butt - much harder than before but still not a real lash.

She screamed, or tried to. It only came out as a muffled "AHHEEEEE."

I was about as hard as I could possibly get, but now was not the time to use it on her. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist lifting the back of her thin cotton dress and looking at her beautiful ass - now with a couple of horizontal red marks. God it was nice. It took all my will power not to just step up and plug into her. Either hole would do fine right now, but I took a deep breath and settled down. Time to move on.

"I am going to remove your gag. Be sure that you remember what I have said." I knew she wouldn't. At least not without another couple of reminders. Off came the gag. I held the riding crop ready.

Sure enough, after working her sore jaws back and forth, she started, "I need to go to the...AHHHHHHHH!!" I let her have another good one on an inner thigh.

"Have you not been paying attention, or are you just stupid?" I asked. "The proper form is to say, 'Stephanie requests permission to speak to the Master.'" I waved the crop in front of her face. "Say IT!" I demanded.

She managed to choke out, "This... Stephanie requests permission to speak to the Master."

"What could you say that I would have any interest in hearing?"

"I... I mean... This... Stephanie needs to go to the bathroom," she finally stammered. Apparently she was having trouble with her own name. One again I laid a medium stroke inside the other thigh. Another scream.

"ANY sentence out of the cunt's mouth will have the word Master in it somewhere. Try again."

"Master please, Stephanie needs to go to the bathroom."

"For what," I asked.

"I... Stephanie needs to... to... "she groped for a word. I noticed that her face was an interesting shade of scarlet. This was certainly nothing that she EVER talked about with a man." "To what? Say it!" I demanded. "This cunt needs to have a bowel movement. ...Master," she added.

"What the hell is that? You fancy-smancy swells sure have trouble saying what you need. Am I being told that the cunt needs to shit?" If possible, she turned even redder. "Well..." I demanded.

She nodded.

"Then say it!"

"This cunt needs to... needs to... shit." The last word came out so quietly that I almost couldn't here it.

"You don't need to whisper. There's nobody within miles of here. Now try again and get it right or I'll stick a plug up your ass and let you store it."

"Master, this cunt needs shit, badly." This time at full volume.

"Much better. You will have a much less painful life from now on, if you just remember the rules." I stepped outside and returned with a five gallon bucket which I put on a short stool between her legs. She should be able to hit that, and with the short cotton dress spread widely by her legs, that shouldn't get in the way either. "Ok," I continued. "Do it."

She looked down at the bucket, then back up at me as it slowly dawned on her that she was not going to be allowed to sit on a commode like a lady. She had probably never taken a dump while squatting outside in her life, let alone standing up, into a bucket with a man in the room. She shook her head. "No. No. I can't..." That was as far as she got before my hand came down on the other side of her face - hard. I walked around behind her and gave her two good lashes with the crop. After a couple of screams, she just hung her head and moaned.

"You've been told that the only 'I' in this room is myself. And 'No' is one world that does not come out of any cunt's mouth. NOW DO IT."

She closed her eyes, and I could see her straining, but her mental processes just wouldn't her her bowel muscles work with the combination of myself watching and the circumstances of the situation. I decided to give her a break, and left the room for my own quarters. I needed some self relief quickly - the last hour had been ungodly stimulating.

When I came back into her room an hour later, I looked in the bucket and saw that she had either managed to go, or her body had finally made her take a dump. She wouldn't look at me, being not only embarrassed at what I was looking at, but also at the fact that this was probably the first time in her life that she couldn't wipe afterward. I reached up and took a titty in my hand, through the dress, massaged it, and said, "Now that is a good little cunt. Did you wipe your ass, afterward?" I asked, obviously knowing the answer.

Still not looking at me, she said in a low voice, "No Master, Stephanie couldn't."

It was getting very late, and it was time for both of us to turn in. We had a busy day tomorrow.

I unhooked the ceiling chain from her wrists but then locked them together behind her, then unfastened the chains from her ankle bracelets, which I left on. I led her over to the bed, then snapped on and locked a metal collar. From this I connected a chain to a ring in the wall at the head of the bed, just long enough to allow her to slide off and squat. I set the now empty waste bucket where she could reach it. Of course, since her hands were still manacled behind her, she would have to be careful not to knock over the bucket during the night. I pulled her to a sitting position, held a large glass of water for her to drink, then let her lie back on her side. Pulling a sheet over her, I said, "Goodnight Stephanie. Tomorrow we will begin your training." With that, I turned out the lights and left.

The next morning, I was up early and ready to play with my new toy. First I fixed myself some breakfast, sausage and waffles, then put took what was left over into a bowl and headed for the playroom.

My cunt was awake, laying there as I left her, except not under the sheet. Laying there in a wrinkled cheap cotton pullover dress, her hair splayed out in all directions, she probably wouldn't have been recognized by her friends if they walked in the room. I noticed that she had managed to use the bucket during the night, as it had a half inch of liquid in it. "Good morning, Stephanie. Are you hungry?" I asked.

She struggled to sit up, and with her head slightly down, said quietly, "Yes." I narrowed my eyes and started to raise my hand as she realized her omission. "Yes, Master," she added fearfully. I took a piece of cloth and tied her hair into a pony tail, then set the bowl of food on the floor, along with another bowl filled with water, and a toothbrush. Then I removed the lock between her wrist bracelets, freeing her hands. I left the chain connecting her collar to the wall. Then I left her and went back to my quarters.

As I cleaned up the kitchen, I began to think what I had told my new acquisition last night. What I had said about her situation was correct. Nobody knew where she was, and certainly had no hint about what was happening to her. If I wanted, I really could keep her as a permanent girl-toy from now on. I got a massive hardon just thinking about that.

Back in the room, she had eaten everything and was sitting on the bed. Of course, that was a no-no. I picked up the crop and laid it across her back. She screamed and dropped to the floor on all fours.

"A cunt NEVER sits in my presence, unless I give permission." I pointed to the floor with the whip. "Squat there facing me." She immediately sat back on her haunches. "Knees apart as wide as possible! Hands behind your back and crossed! Look at the floor in front of you!" She rapidly obeyed, with a couple of fearful glances at the whip. I laid the whip gently on her shoulder and said, "That is the proper position for a slave girl to greet her Master. You will assume that position at all times when I am in the room. Understand?"

She nodded and replied, "Yes, Master."

"Ok, now stand up and take off that dress." She stood up and began to unfasten the buttons that held the dress together over each shoulder. When one shoulder fell open, she glanced at me, which got here another light whack on one calf.

"A cunt never looks her Master in the face unless told to! Your eyes are always looking downward." Her eyes snapped back to a view of the floor, along with a proper verbal acknowledgment. In a few seconds, her dress dropped to the floor, and she automatically tried to hide behind her hands. "Hands behind you, cunt!" This time there was a slight hesitation, but was short enough that I pretended not to see it. "Back in your squat position," I ordered. She dropped back to the floor. This time her head was down voluntarily, as she tried to hide her embarrassment.

"Now, cunt, we are going to have a classroom session so that I can see how intensive your knowledge is of various body parts. When I touch something, you tell me what it is called." This was another mind game that would play on her embarrassment reflex. I suspected that she could barely talk about female anatomy to her Doctor, let alone to any man. I put the tip of the crop against her mouth. "What is that and what is it for?" I asked.

"My mouth, Master, and I eat wit..." This time the crop came down across her bare back - not extremely hard, but enough to hurt.

"Who in hell is 'my' and 'I'", I demanded. "Are you just stupid, or are you trying to piss me off for some reason? Or are you trying to hide from me the fact that it is a cunt's mouth? You are Stephanie, or a cunt, or a girl - not I or me or anything of value."

"It is Stephanie's mouth, Master," she blurted as the tears freely flowed. "Stephanie eats and drinks with it."

I put the crop under her left tittie and lifted it slightly. "And this?"

"It is a Stephanie's breast, Master," she answered.

"Jeez," I exclaimed. "You high society swells must have one hell of a fuck session with that kind of lingo in bed. Try again."

"Please, Master. It is really my... Stephanie's breast, or..." She groped for an unfamiliar word or words that she might have heard in some movie. After a pause, she continued as a word finally came to mind. "...a knocker."

I reached over and for the first time, felt her bare tits. Wonderful. I weighed and kneaded for a few seconds, then pulled on the nipples. "Breasts are what a normal woman has. A cunt like you has tits, titties, boobs, ta-ta's, hooters, jugs, bazookas, headlights, knockers, hand candies - not breasts. Remember that."

I dropped the end of the crop down and between her spread legs, then up into her partly spread crack. I wiggled it from side to side to allow it spread the pussy lips and enter upwards as far as it would go. Once again, her expression showed that the reality of bondage was far beyond her previous dreams of what the experience would be like. I looked at her, waiting. She finally remembered her orders.

"That is my... pussy, Master." Well, at least upper class women knew a little about sex slang. I had expected her to use some medical term like vagina or uterus.

"Well, the cunt really does know a little. It is also your twat, snatch, crack, box and lots of other names." I moved around behind her and stooped down to get a look at her little ass dimple. When I lightly touched it with the end of the crop, she almost jumped up. "And that?" I asked.

She hesitated long enough that I began to think she wasn't going to answer. Then very slowly, she said, "That is my... Stephanie's..." another long pause, then very softly, "...ass..." pause, "...hole, Master." It had probably never occurred to her that her poop chute would come in to play in a sexual situation. This section of her anatomy would be something that was never mentioned to anyone, let alone a man. I assumed that even if she ever had to speak to her doctor about a problem in that area, she would resort to euphemisms.

I had her stand up, unlocked the collar chain from the wall, then led her out the door and into the next room - the one that was set up as a bondage chamber. First, I spread her legs with two chains to her ankle bracelets. Then on went a long single glove with her arms behind her back. I laced it up snug, but not so tight as to cause her elbows to touch. I needed to break her in carefully to tight bondage - any physical damage would ruin the whole week for both of us. I wanted her addicted to, not repelled by B&D.

I taped two large cotton bandages over both ears. Her hair was still in a ponytail, so I fed her trusses though the back hole of a plastic whole head mask. This was then rolled down her head like a large condom. Before it covered her mouth, I inserted a perforated plastic ball gag then continued unrolling the mask down to her neck. It fit very snugly. She could breath through the nose holes and through the ball gag, but was blind and deaf. I connected a chain from the ceiling, loosely, to the back of her collar so that she could not fall down and hurt herself. Then I stepped back and enjoyed the whole scene.

For the first time I allowed myself full play with my hands over her body. By the time I had pinched and pulled nipples, spread pussy lips and played around inside, and my finger had plumbed the depths of her asshole, my nuts were about to explode. It was time for my first reward. I unhooked the collar chain, bent her over and attached it to the end ring of the single glove. Now she was spread, doubled over and wide open from behind for any use I wanted. My dick had a choice of two passageways, but I decided to stay on the normal path. I stripped, lubed up with spit, grabbed hold of both of her hips then began to slowly enter her love channel. I had to go very slowly, since the stimulation was almost at the boiling point even before I entered her. I managed to not shoot off in the first few seconds, but it still was just a very short time till I exploded into her. I knew that future acts would last longer.

During this time, there was no sound from her, and no struggling that I could detect. I had no idea if she was enjoying herself or not. I was absolutely sure that she did not cum at this time, but I would soon handle that. I hooked her back up into the original vertical standing pose, then strapped on a butterfly vibrator, which I set to low, then sat back to watch.

As soon as the pulsations started on her clit, she began to twitch and wiggle in her bonds. With my previous girls, I had done this enough to be able to tell how far along the orgasm path they were, but with this slave, I had no idea. If she had diddled herself just before we drove up here, or if she was discovering that bondage was much better in her imagination than in real life, it might take a while. On the other hand, with the anticipation of this bondage for months and, if she had not relieved herself lately, then even on the low setting, she might blow in just a few seconds.

The butterfly was definitely having an effect. I could hear a low moan, and her limbs would give small jerks at random times. I moved the intensity up a few notches. This really made a change. She threw her head back and her legs pulled on the chains. In a few minutes, I could see a sheen of sweat on her body. Good. I didn't have a frigid slave here, I knew. I also knew that it was only a short time till she went over the edge. I cranked the knob to full and that did it. From the gag came a long "AHHHHHHHHHHHH" and her body suddenly shook like a dancing puppet for a few seconds, then she dropped her head forward as far as the collar would allow and stood there with post orgasm muscle spasms. I turned off the vibrator.

I unhooked her, led her back into her chamber and laid her on the bed, still with the mask and single glove. I manacled her ankles together and hooked the collar chain back onto the wall. With that, I left her to herself for a couple of hours.

The Mountaintop

A few times, the Sheriff dropped by - he would pull up to the gate and honk and I would open it remotely - and every time he found me at my desk, buried in phony flowcharts and printouts. After a cup of coffee and a pleasant chat, he would leave still satisfied that I was just a young computer geek who liked privacy. Plus, I would donate a modest amount to the local Officers Fund every year, just to underscore how law-abiding a citizen I was. I also dropped a hint that I liked girls, and that one or another came to visit me every now and then. That would give me an out if he and a client just happened to arrive at the same time.

I had begun to work on my cave dungeon, between clients. Since I was averaging only a couple of customers per week then, I had plenty of time on my hands. I had to rent a major jack hammer to get a trench cut for water and power conduit, since the mountain only had about two inches of soil over rock. The connections were hidden underground in such a way as to be almost untraceable even if the main electrical or water at the hotel was worked on, or inspected. The cave entrance wasn't visible from outside of my property, and in fact was barely visible through the trees up close, but I needed to disguise it completely. After several tries, I had success with a heavy door, cut to fit, with light weight cement carved into replicas of the local rock on the outside. It wouldn't fool anyone who knew it was there, but the average person could walk right past it and never see it. I went to a lot of trouble to make sure that a visible path didn't develop between the cave door and the hotel, mainly by placing strategic rocks that could be stepped on without leaving a trace.

Inside, I used many loads of clean river sand to level up the floor, then installed some permanent lighting through out. These lights could be turned off or on individually at need. Water only went to a small shower and a sink. Under the sand was a sewer pipe, but it was for future use, since I didn't know how the inside would finally turn out.

The cave work went fairly slowly. For one thing, I wasn't sure if I would really use it, and for another I was enjoying myself in other ways. I was becoming very wealthy as my stashes of gold coins grew. I had gradually converted my inheritance to gold pieces also, which meant that I had no income from interest anymore, but this was vastly offset by the huge runup in gold values over the years and had massively increased the value of my original inheritance. I was now fairly litigation proof, as my accountant called it. All I had that anyone could know about, was this rundown hotel, worth almost nothing on the real estate market. I did a little phantom programming work for some nonexistent companies so that I could claim at least a living income. Low enough not to pay much in taxes, but high enough to justify my standard of living - which was fairly ordinary on the surface.

Since I was a very amateur welder, I enrolled in a short class at a vocational institute. In a few weeks, while nobody would mistake my work for a long time journeyman, it was solid and looked pretty good. I made a set of very solid cages of various sizes and shapes. Of course, since the entrance of the cave was only about the size of an ordinary door, I had to weld them together after I had carried sections into the dungeon. These were made of three quarter inch steel bar stock on all sides, including the door and were totally escape proof. The bars were set six inches apart - far too close for even the skinniest girl to squeeze through, but wide enough to give plenty of view.

Eventually, I had a full fledged dungeon, with all the paraphernalia that I could either dream up and build, or in some instances, buy at various sex shops. Beside the cages, there were whipping posts, stocks of differing types, a real stretching rack, torture boxes and pits, hoists and pulleys, platforms of all kinds that slaves could be stretched out on, and a full set of toys that looked like the wall in a major sex shop. In addition, there were rings mounted everywhere - on the cave walls, the ceiling where it could be reached, and the floor - that could have any and all kinds of restraints attached.

So far, I had not offered the use of it to any customer. And in fact, was not exactly sure how I wanted to use it. Then one day, one of my original clients dropped a bombshell in my office.

Three years before...

A couple of hours later, I went back to look at Stephanie. Obviously, she was still laying where I left her. I unlocked the chain between her ankle bracelets and the collar chain at the wall and pulled her to a standing position. She just stood there waiting, obviously forgetting the proper protocol. "You are one stupid bitch. You are apparently not going to learn that you squat in my presence." I had to almost shout so she could hear through the cotton covering her ears. Then I let her have on across the butt, which elicited a scream. She immediately dropped to the proper position.

I reached down and pulled her head mask off by rolling it upward in reverse. As it came off, she was panting and wide eyed but remembered not to look up. I moved behind her and unlaced the single glove and removed it. She flexed her arms in obvious relief as her muscles assumed more normal positions. "You may speak, slave," I said, wondering what she might say.

Keeping her head down, she asked quietly, "May Stephanie go to the bathroom, Master?"

"To do what?" I asked.

"Stephanie needs to... pee, Master," she answered.

"Stand up. Spread your legs wide." I got the five gallon bucket from the bathroom and placed it between her legs. "Ok, squat and hold your pussy lips spread. We don't want you to spatter it everywhere." I wondered if she could while I was watching. Many women can't with an audience without several days of trying. I realized that it would be far more embarrassing for her if I made her look at me, rather than at the floor, but decided not to order it. I expected that she was going to have enough problems getting the flow started without that. "Ok. Now piss." Apparently, she really needed to go since after a short delay, a week dribble began to fall into the bucket. It then became a full fledged stream as the relief from the bladder pressure set in. Of course, the sight made the pressure in my cohones start to rise again. When she finished, I made her empty it into the commode, then rinse out the bucket. Then, using the collar chain, towed her into the equipment room.

I ordered her onto the rack table face up, then attached all four limbs at each corner. This time, she would be able to see as I felt and probed around her body. Once she was pulled taut, stretched but not painfully tight, I said, "I am going to inspect every part of your body When I ask, you will tell me what it is and what it is used for. And you had better sound like the slave you are, not like the high society cunt that you used to be. Understand?"

"Yes, Master." I don't think that the reality of the situation had really sunk in even yet. I was beginning to realize that her previous expectations of B&D were probably from the movies. That is, she had expected to be tied up with a few ropes, like a damsel in distress, then to have her tits fondled through her blouse, and finally laid on a bed and politely screwed in the missionary position. By the end of the week, she would have a much fuller understanding of this particular phase of fetishism.

Spread out on the rack, she was beautiful. No fat at all. Her skin was pure white - I doubt that she ever went out into the direct sun. Her tits were, of course, not as high as a teenagers, but obviously had always been cradled by a bra anytime she wasn't sleeping. I would wager that she put on one every day as soon as she got out of bed, whether or not she was going out. Her nipples weren't huge, but stuck out enough to be able to be pulled and pinched easily. There was no hair growing anywhere below her neck since the cost of full body laser treatments was a trivial item to her checking account. Shaving would be a daily chore for the lower classes, not for her type. Her pussy was slightly parted and made the perfect female taco. Her little ass star was not very viewable at the moment, but I had already confirmed that it was a dream hole also.

I began to feel her up. Starting at the calves of her legs, then moved up to her pussy. I spread the lips and stuck my finger up her twat. "What's this," I asked?

"My pussy, Master," she answered, then realized her mistake and tried to correct it before the whip laid across the inside of her thigh. A scream, then "A cunt's pussy, Master." I looked at her steadily. She looked back wild eyed. Another whack on the other thigh. "AEEEEEE! Please, Master! Don't whip Stephanie!"

"Then follow my instructions. I will repeat them just once more. From now on, if you forget any further orders, your skin is going to pay." I held the crop over her face. "Tell me what it is and what it is used for."

"It's my... Stephanie's pussy, Master," she blurted frantically. "The Master uses it to have sex..." I frowned and waved the whip again. "The Master uses it to... fuck me... a cunt, Master." I waited, looking directly at her. She frantically searched her memory for some more slang. "The Master sticks his finger in it. He climax... He shoots off in it with his... dick. I don't know what else, Master," she wailed.

The Mountaintop

Mrs. M was one of my earliest clients and was one who, over the course of a couple of years, went from a shy light bondage enthusiast to a hard core convert who wanted tight, painful restraints. And major punishment on top of that, usually. She would sometimes book a room for a week at a time. She was in her early 40s, a widow with apparently no other close family. I had actually been to her house, a small mansion, since in those early days, sometimes I was interviewed before the person would commit to coming to my hotel. I assumed that this booking was just like any other for her - that is heavy bondage and torture - but when her car was parked she asked me to carry a suitcase from her trunk to my office. I automatically assumed that she had brought some B&D specialties for me to use on her. As it turned out, that thought wasn't even in the same galaxy as the reality. I waved her to sit down, then did so myself.

"Mr. Johnson," she began. No client knew my real name. I gave a different one to each. "I wish to make a proposition to you. In fact, in a way, I am going to attempt blackmail on you. If you don't accept my proposition, I will expose your operation to the media."

What the hell? I thought. This is definitely not what I was expecting. However, there was something in her demeanor that didn't quite ring true. She was a sub, and in fact, a sub that was about as close to the bottom as a sub can get. I couldn't imagine her wanting to be a partner with me, standing around in tight leathers with a whip.

In a movie, this was the point that I brought out a silenced pistol and disposed of her. But, since the deadliest weapon I owned was a shovel that I rarely used to dispatch the odd snake or so, major violence wasn't an option. I waited till she started again.

She pointed to her suitcase. "Please put that on the table over there." As I began to comply, she continued, "I want to be a full time slave. From now on. A real one with a real master who has the power of life and death over me. In tight bondage and instant punishment whenever I don't give perfect satisfaction. Or with a master who will whip my skin off just for the pleasure of hearing me scream." She stepped over to the suitcase, flipped the latches and opened it. "If you accept my proposition, this is yours and another one like it in the car."

If eyes could actually bug out, mine would have looked like a cartoon character's. The luggage was packed solid, side to side, top to bottom with stacks of 100 dollar bills. Speechless, I looked at her, undoubtedly with my jaw hanging down.

"I have sold everything - house, stocks, properties. I have been working on this for over a year. Believe me, these days it is very difficult to avoid suspicion when trying to convert property to actual cash. Anyone with more than five hundred dollars in his or her possession is considered a potential terrorist. Anyway, every nickel of my worth is in these two suitcases. They are yours if you accept my proposition. Nobody will complain to the authorities - I have no close relatives or friends. Nobody knows I come here."

I flopped, rather than sat back down in my chair, still reeling from the events of the last few minutes. Fortunately she let me have a few minutes of thought. I already had a real dungeon, a fact of which she was ignorant, so that part was no problem. But the idea of a slave - a real slave - a real person - that I would now have total responsibility for was daunting. Besides, what would be my legal standing? I was in the play slave business in which everybody was a willing participant. I knew full well that in our society, real slaves were illegal, whether the slave wished it or not and the instant that she no longer had a choice, then she was a real slave.

I wondered about her threat to expose me if I didn't agree. Then I realized that a woman who would have traded her entire past and future for a box of cash was probably serious.

I let out a long breath and nodded. "The offer is attractive, to say the least, and apparently I don't have a choice. So, consider yourself a real chattel."

"Thank you, Master. A girl is grateful and expects to be fully punished for putting the Master in this situation. Master of course, realizes that he can now solve the problem of blackmail by disposing of a girl's body and keeping the money."

Another deep breath as the reality began to sink in. "Take your clothes off, then kneel on the floor, head down and hands behind your back." I went down to the cave to get a small item from the refrigerator. When I reentered my office, she was in the perfect position, naked and waiting. I snapped a pair bracelets on her wrists, then locked them together behind her back. I held a glass of water to her mouth, and said, "Drink this."

I went outside to make sure that everything was locked up, including the gate. By the time I returned, the GHB in her water had taken full effect.

I tied a short rope around her neck for a leash, then ordered her to her feet. She was conscious, but totally unaware of where she was. We exited my office, started slowly down the non-trail in the back till we came to the cave entrance, with me making sure that she didn't trip in her stupefied state. I slowly towed her toward the back and opened a door to a holding cage, about four feet wide, eight feet tall and long. Removing the leash, I pushed her in, walked over and picked up a bucket and a single blanket and set these inside. Then I closed the door and padlocked it, leaving her wrists manacled behind her. I wondered how long it would take for it to sink in, once the date rape drug wore off, that she had gone from living in a mansion to about thirty two square feet of steel cage.

Leaving the cave, I was still in a state of mild shock. But I had to immediately handle a couple of items. First was a gigantic pile of cash that had to be hidden. That would be brought into the cave for now. The other was her car. That item would take some thought. I couldn't sell it, it wasn't mine. But I couldn't leave it here - it was a potential connection from a now missing rich widow to me.

I don't drink. I keep some different types of high quality booze on hand just because some clients expect it, and sometimes it helps to calm the jitters of a new guest. Nevertheless, I poured myself a fairly stiff drink of brandy - I think - and sat back to do some real cogitation. First off was what would I do with the money? It couldn't just be kept laying around in the form of cash - all that would do is lose a percentage to inflation every year. To convert it to gold coins, or bars, would be a major operation and probably dangerous. I could move my current stashes of coins from place to place if needed. Gold is so valuable that even a few pounds is worth a fortune. But moving gold in the hundreds of pounds would be very risky. Plus, my bookie assumed that I had some lucrative cash business somewhere that accounted for my purchase of gold every month or so, but if I started showing up with massive amounts of cash he would start wondering. The risk was that he would want to get in on the operation, whatever he thought it was, and wouldn't take no for an answer. And if the word got out that I was sitting on massive amounts of cash somewhere, my lifespan would probably be measured in very short increments. Or I would wind up sitting in a police station being asked questions for which I would have no answers. Besides, any legitimate money was still a target for civil lawsuits.

High finance was beyond me. I knew nothing about laundering huge amounts of money. Or offshore banking. I decided that one brandy wasn't going to solve the problem.

Three years before...

By noon, Stephanie had named all her parts, and their uses over and over. I gave her additional descriptions whenever she ran dry of words. Of course, these were just all mind games designed to break her out of her stuck-in-the-mud upper class snobbery. I then fed her by hand, watered her and then installed a ring gag in her mouth. She would be gagged off and on all week, for greater and greater periods of time so that she could become adjusted to wearing one. Then I began to turn the capstan to tighten up her bonds. In a few moments, she was bowstring tight and trying to protest around the gag. I left to get my own lunch.

The Mountaintop

The next morning I discovered that Mrs M's (her name would now be Pancake) automobile was a rental. That was a relief, since all I had to do was drive it back to her hometown, turn it in with a story about her being ill or something, then ride the bus back. The money was still a future problem. But for now, the idea that I now had a real woman under my power and for the first time, I would decide what the daily routine was, not her. I made her some breakfast, then headed for the dungeon. She was awake and sitting on the blanket as I pushed the tray through the small slot at the front of the cage. I had her stand up, with her back to me so that I could unlock her wrists, then informed her of her new name, and began to make preparations to begin to break her in to her new life. When she finished, I unlocked the cage, marched her over to a dual whipping post and soon had her spread eagled vertically with only her toes touching the ground. Then I took some liberties with her body, poking my fingers into her asshole, then her pussy. I pinched and squeezed her tits for a while. She was a good looking woman to be over 40. Somewhat overweight, but that problem could be easily fixed if I wished.

I pulled her nipples hard enough that she tried to move toward me for relief. Of course, she could barely wiggle, let alone move forward. "Listen up, bitch," I started. "You are here by your own choice. Forget your old life and the outside world. As far as I am concerned, you are nothing more than a cunt, an asshole, a mouth and a pair of tits. All you care about from now on is my enjoyment. Anytime you fail to please me in the slightest, I am going to stripe your body till you think it is on fire. Or, I may do it, as you mentioned in my office, just for the pleasure of hearing you scream. As for right now, you are getting the leather so you may realize that your little fantasy is now real."

I walked over to the equipment wall and selected a whip. Actually, it was a punishment strap with a handle and a wide stiff leather tail - wide enough that, while very painful, would not cut the skin. Moving behind her and to the side, I took aim and laid it across her back - not as hard as I could swing, but still a hard stroke. The reaction was immediate as she gave out a ear splitting shriek and frantically jerked around in her chains. In twenty seconds or so, I landed another one below the now livid horizontal mark across her back. Again the scream and struggling.

After twelve strokes, her voice was giving out and her strength was gone. She just hung in the chains by her wrists. Her back and butt were crossed horizontally with bright red inch wide stripes. I backed up and sat down out of her view and watched for a while. The erotic feeling of power over a helpless slave was almost overpowering, and nothing like I had ever experienced with paid customers - or with my previous girlfriends, for that matter. Getting up, I walked in front of her and bobbled a tittie again. She was reduced to whimpering her willingness to do anything for the Master.

"Does the girl realize that she is a real slave, now?" I asked.

"Yes, Master. Please Master." Ok, it was time for some relief. My rod was a solid steel shaft now. "Ok, I am going to let the slave suck me off. If I like it, I will put you back in your cage. If you displease me, I will hang you back up and give you 10 more strokes. Understand?" Actually, I wouldn't do it to her again. I wanted a compliant slave, not a completely broken husk of a woman.

"Oh yes, Master. Let a girl show her gratitude," she pleaded. I loosened the chains to her wrists, then unlocked them. Fastening them behind her back, but leaving her ankle chains on and her legs spread, I told her to drop to her knees and get started. There is nothing like a whip to put enthusiasm into a job. She outdid herself on my dick, and soon was swallowing the result. I put her back in her cage, unfettered this time, and went back to my office.

Over the next few weeks, I dropped hints that she was miles away from the mountain top hotel. Due to the drug, she had no memory of walking to the cave, but I didn't want her to know that she was on the same property. Just in case.

I began an Internet search on money laundering, making sure to use an offshore anonymizing website. My problem being, that while I was not opposed to paying my share of taxes, I could just imagine the result of my turning in a tax form for the year with several million dollars in income. That was a no-go for sure, so I was forced into the laundering process. It didn't take much searching to realize that I was out of my league and the amateur websites were not going to help. I would need some professional advice. So, I got in my car and headed for the most professional money laundering adviser that I knew - my bookie.

Three years before...

After lunch, I checked on my racked slave, and found her moaning in pain, although in fact, the tension was far less than some of my later clients wanted and would suffer for hours. We were only halfway through the first day, and I am sure that she thought that she had hit the bottom of B&D degradation. It was time to move on. I released the tension, and the gag, then unsnapped her wrists and ankles. I led her back to her bed, manacled her up and left her.

Later that afternoon, I was back. This time she was actually asleep in her bonds, obviously worn out from the events of the morning. What she didn't know was that what she probably considered to be the most intense bondage, was actually just casual play to an experienced bondage girl. I woke her up, set her over the bucket to piss, then towed her back to the equipment room. This time to another table, more of a sawhorse looking contraption. Bending her over, I snapped a hook through the front ring of her collar, then spread her legs and fastened them to the feet of the table. Her wrists went behind her back and were locked together, then connected to a short chain to the ring on the back of her collar. I shortened it enough to be painful, but not excruciating. Her head was over the end of the table, with her looking at the floor. Her boobs were dangling through two holes in the table top.

When I walked around to the front of the table, I was totally naked, the first time in her presence. I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back, just about level and looking straight at my dick. She began to realize just what was coming up next, but I am not sure that she believed it yet. I doubt that she had ever sucked cock even in her masturbating fantasies.

"Please, Master, Stephanie can't..." She couldn't bring herself to say the word, or couldn't come up with a description of sucking dick.

"I am willing to bet that Stephanie, can," I answered. "But I am feeling pretty good right now. I'll give you a choice. You can either suck me off, or take ten strokes of the whip on your inner thighs. Which would a slave girl prefer?" I had a pretty good idea, since I had learned years ago that a woman's inner thighs were the most painful part of her body under the whip, as Stephanie had found last night. Just to help her make up her mind, I let go of her hair, moved to the other end of the table, and laid a good stroke of the crop on an inner thigh. This got a long "AAAEEEEEEE." Then she choked out, "I'll suck your dick, Master. Please let me suck your dick." The pain was such that she didn't realize that she had again used the forbidden pronouns. I ignored it this time.

Back around to the front of the table, I moved up close enough to give her a chance to start. I was curious as to how she thought it was done. And as she started, she did it very badly. She stuck her tongue out and barely licked the side of my penis. I noticed that she deliberately avoided the end hole - even she knew what came out of it. "You are not doing very good, slavegirl," I said sternly. That got her to licking a little harder, but still on the side. "Take it in your mouth, bitch."

She hesitated, then barely put her mouth over the head, but still tried to keep her tongue away from the end. Obviously, a lesson was in order. I pulled away, picked up the plastic head mask from last night, threaded her hair through the back hole, then began to roll it down. When it got to her mouth, I inserted a ball, one that was considerably larger than the one she retained this morning. Again, this ball was a safety one, with passages through which she could breath if her nose stopped up. Once the head mask was snugly in place, I unsnapped the chain that was holding her arms high on her back, then moved it up two more links. To the point that I could hear her protest. Finally, I clamped a pair of clothespins on her dangling nipples. Apparently, that didn't give her a pleasant erotic feeling, since she was shouting into her gag and wiggling around in the limit of her bonds. I left her to think about her errors.

The Mountaintop

I was on a plane headed for Grand Cayman, courtesy of the advice of my booki... my financial advisor. Once there, I contacted the recommended individual - an officer in a fairly well known offshore bank. He assured me that all of the latest news given out by the taxing authorities of both North America and Europe about the end of the line for tax avoiders, was pure hokum, designed to panic and scare anyone who thought about trying to protect their money from oppressive taxation. When I indicated the amount that I wanted to deposit, he became most helpful. Of course, I didn't have the cash with me, and in fact I had no idea how to get it to a foreign bank, but I was assured that the problem was a trivial one. After enjoying myself on the golden beaches of that tropical island, I headed back to my hotel armed with an account number and a set of instructions. Within a couple of months, the problem was solved and I was now an undercover millionaire. And that didn't even count the very considerable stashes that I had before the new permanent slave arrived.

Three years before...

It was almost dark before I checked on Stephanie. As I expected, her body was complaining mightily about being held in that restricted position for several hours. I also expected that her jaws were close to making her think that she was going to expire from pain. I unsnapped the wrist/collar chain, and let her arms move to any position they wanted, but still attached together behind her back. Then I began to remove the head mask. She was moaning as it came off. Lastly, I unclamped the clothespins from her nipples. Just that act made her scream with pain. I left her alone for a few minutes to so she could try to get her pains decreased somewhat.

When I came back in, I stood in front of her, pulled her head up by her hair, and said, "Is a slave girl ready to really give head. Or would she like to be trussed up again the same way, but all night this time?"

"NO, NO Master! I mean... Stephanie means yes Master! Stephanie wants to suck your dick! Please let Stephanie suck you off, Master! Please!" A more pitiful set of pleadings I hadn't heard in a long time.

I stepped forward, and offered the tool to her mouth. This time there was no hesitation. She immediately swallowed it to the extent that she could without gagging, and commenced to suck and lick. All I had to do was stand there and enjoy the view as her mouth worked over my rod. When I knew that the end was near, I grabbed hold of her hair again, and said, "Make sure that you don't spill a drop, unless you want your bottom worked over again with this crop." Somehow she managed to nod with a mouthful of myself without missing a beat. When the explosion came, she almost choked on the load, but managed to get it down with no spillage. Just to make sure that the whip didn't have a target, she pursed her lips around my cock as tightly as possible to make sure that nothing went astray.

"That was very good for a new slave girl," I complimented. "If I ever sell you to a border bordello, that is an act that you will perform several times a night. Now you'll know what to do. Clean me up." She licked me clean and I released her from the table. She had had enough training for one day, so I led her back to her bed and hooked her collar to the wall chain. Tonight I would let her sleep more comfortably, with her hands manacled in front of her, but with a chain too short to reach her twat or anything close to it. I brought her a good dinner this time - no cutlery, of course- and made sure that the bucket was available, then turned the lights down and left.

In my opinion, her training was coming along well, at least for the first day. I would like to have known if she was enjoying herself, even if in a masochistic way, or if she was regretting the entire impulse for B@D and was wishing for the week to end.

The Mountaintop

Pancake was working out just fine as my personal slave. Depending on which set of clients that I might get during a given month, sometimes I would go weeks without an opportunity for sex since many of them did not want the actual act during their ordeal. Now I could have it anytime I wanted, and I wanted it often. It took a while for the fact to finally sink in that this was a woman to which I could do anything, that I didn't need her permission, or worry about a law - just do whatever I wanted. She wanted no part of the whipping post after her first session. She made sure that she never made a mistake, or displeased me in any way. I wasn't sure if her eagerness was because she was enjoying herself, or because of the whip, but either way, she was a total slave.

I attached a permanent chain to her neck collar, then to a very heavy eyebolt driven into the back wall rockface. This was long enough for her to reach any part of the cave, but was about 20 feet short of the entrance. I installed a kitchen and Pancake became my cook, not only for me, but for any stayover guests. She still usually slept in her cage at night, but was normally let out during the day. When she was not cooking or cleaning, she was usually chained, strapped, or tied in some kind of tight bondage. I installed a nice queen sized bed for me just inside the length of her chain, but to keep her off of it during times that I was not there, I would use a lock to remove ten or so feet from the slack in her chain. Some nights, I would sleep with her, and for my security, always with her hands secured in some way - behind her back, or attached to the head board, or whatever. And on some nights, she wore a full mask and gag or other restraint, although obviously, her legs were almost always free. Her forty year old body was lush and fun to play with and every hole got a continual workout.

I spent some time making a video of her for her old friends. First, I dressed her up to look like the upper class widow that she used to be, then cut to scenes where she was totally naked and at a snap of my fingers, immediately climbed on the bed, bent over and pulled her ass cheeks apart for my entry. Then on her back, wrists chained to her ankles, holding her legs wide for use of either hole. That was followed by a scene where she was be pumping my pud with her mouth and then swallowing every drop in a close up. Finally, as an ending, her tongue reaming out my asshole and making sure it was squeaky clean. I made sure that while my face never showed, hers was unmistakable. Alas, while the video was fun, the idea of mailing the DVD to her friends was impractical. But it was fun to think about.

Then I got an idea for my online server. I used her as a model for pictures of every kind of bondage that I could think of and in every piece of equipment that I had. Even some scenes of torture, such as racking, whipping and suspension. Of course, I made sure that in all pictures, nothing appeared of me except maybe for a whip holding hand, and she always appeared in a full head mask to make her totally unrecognizable. Besides being a lot of fun, at least for me, my new and less experienced customers could now pick and choose between various kinds of bondage and torture, some of which they had never heard or thought of.

Three years before...

The next morning, Stephanie had no breakfast, for which there was a definite reason. I strapped her back into the sawhorse rack in the same way as yesterday, but this time added a large ring gag. I wanted access to her throat, but also wanted her to be able to scream and shout, but not talk. To test the setup, I gave her a couple of strokes with the crop across her butt. Two screams of "AAAAEEEE" showed that the installation was satisfactory. Then I sat down in a chair in front of her.

"Did you ever see the film, 'Deep Throat'", I asked. She shook her head to indicate no. Which I expected. There was no way that Mrs. Hotty Tottie the swell would have ever seen something like that. "Well," I continued, "it was about a girl who could take an man's entire cock into her mouth, all the way down her throat. And the way she did that, was to conquer the gag reflex. That is what we are going to work on this morning." I could see from her widened eyes that my slave girl was less than enthusiastic about the prospect, but I didn't want that to stand in the way of her education.

I had selected a dildo, in the shape of a long somewhat narrow pecker, and held it up in front of her eyes. "Remember, I said," you are going to do your best not to gag. If you hold it back, you will be rewarded by having your titties squeezed - if you fail, you get this." I held up the crop.

With that, I pulled her head back with her hair, and gently inserted the dildo until it touched the back of her throat. Of course, she immediately and involuntarily tried to heave. Fortunately, her stomach was empty and all that came up was a thin liquid. I gave her a good one across the back, and got the usual scream. "You didn't even try that time," I said sternly. "You have to do better than that."

I inserted it again. I could tell that she tried to hold it back, but the reflex was too strong, and the stomach muscles started their heaving again. I knew that in the short week to follow, that there was too little time to accomplish the suppression of the gag reflex, but maybe we could get a good start. Plus, it was something that she would never have anticipated in her wildest dreams of becoming a sub.

After a few more tries at increasing intervals, she could hold it back for longer periods, but was still a long way from emulating Debbie. Now she was both mewing through her gag and crying, and had some red stripes on her back, so I put the dildo back on the shelf, removed her gag and left her alone for a half hour to recover. There was a thin mess on the floor that she was going to have to clean up, but that would be later.

When I came back, the pressure in my nuts was signaling that it was time for release, so I moved the next training session up from the afternoon. This would be another humiliation that she had probably never dreamed of, although it was nothing out of the ordinary. I sat back down in front of her, making sure not to step in her previous mess. I held the crop up and said "The cunt didn't do very well in that last training."

"Please, Master, " she pleaded. "Stephanie couldn't stop. Stephanie is sorry, Master. Please don't punish Stephanie, Master."

I reached up and patted her cheek. "Ok," I said. "As long as the cunt tried her best." I reached under and squeezed her tits and pulled on her nipples. "I'm going to reward you for at least trying." The relief in her face as I put the whip down was overwhelming, although I had a feeling that I was going to enjoy the reward much more than her.

As I moved behind her, I scooped up a finger full of lube from a jar on the shelf, then began to anoint it to her little ass opening. She wiggled at the touch - I was probably the first person in her adult life to touch it with a finger. Then I moved back around front and, in front of her face, began to apply it to my steel hard rod. Suddenly, it dawned on her just what was about to happen and she began to thrash and pull at her bonds.

"NO! NO! NO! YOU... MASTER CAN'T DO IT TO ME IN MY..." she struggled with the word but finally got it out, "...ASSHOLE. PLEASE DON"T! IT WON'T FIT!" Now, I am just a guy with an ordinary sized dong - not one of those porn dudes swinging massive baloney between his legs - so I knew full well that it would not only fit, but fit very well. But I wanted to be reasonable.

I stooped down to look her in the face. "Are you sure you don't want me to shove my dick up your poop chute?"

She violently shook her head and blurted, "NO! Please don't, Master."

"Are you sure?" I insisted. "Some girls really like it and you probably will also, when you get used to it." Again the head shake. I stood up, walked back around and fingered her hole again. It was really tight, and slippery with lube by now. I backed up, aimed and really let her have one to her inner thigh. Then to the other.

If the rack hadn't been made of heavy lumber, she would probably have turned it over. Besides jerking every muscle in her body, she let out a wail at the top of her lungs. I watched for a while, and wondered if maybe she had changed her mind. Back in front of her, I pulled her tear wetted face up and asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to plug your hole?"

She violently nodded, but I didn't know if she was now giving assent, or was trying to tell me that she was sure that she still didn't want me to. I assumed the latter. Holding the whip up again, I said, "How about a couple more of these, instead."

That got her vocal cords back in operation. "Please plug my hole instead, Master," she stammered.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I certainly don't want to do something to you that you find distasteful. I think the whip would be better."

Another massive shake of her head. "No, Master! Please use my asshole as you want."

"Are you asking me to ream out your anal channel?"

She dropped her head, and nodded. "Yes, Master."

"Then say it!" I ordered.

"Master, please ream out my anal channel." Well, well, the slang was starting to flow without all the pauses, now.

"You actually want me to pack your shit, right?"

"Yes, Master. Please pack Stephanie's shit." Well, that was clear enough. I was hoping that in my current rutting state, that I would last long enough to even get it inserted. I decided that I didn't have a chance, so I left the room and took a walk out the back and gazed over the mountain valley vista. In a few minutes, the steam pressure dropped below the red line and I went back to the room.

I wanted to make her entry into Sodom as easy as possible, so I put the head of my well greased tool at the entrance of her backdoor, and slowly pushed. The unfamiliar sensations made her groan and grunt as it slowly went in. Finally, I was inserted into her beautiful backside clear up to my balls. I reached around and took one of her chest handles in either hand, and began to stroke in and out. God it was tight, and her continual mouthing of "ahhhhhhh" and "uuhhhhh" didn't help. It wasn't long before I gave her a cum enema. When I pulled out, her hole almost snapped shut. It would definitely have to be stretched somewhat.

I took my tool back to her face, and said, "A good little slave girl always cleans her Master up, no matter where his dick has been." I offered it to her mouth wondering if she would offer more resistance. Since I had picked up the crop and was holding it where she could see it, she decided that licking was the lesser of two evils.

I released her, connected her neck chain to a wall ring, then pointed to the floor and said, "Clean up your mess." All she had to do it with was a rag and her piss bucket. When she finished, I moved her back to her bed, chained her up and left to get her some breakfast.

The Mountaintop

Another hard case client I had, was Mrs T. She just almost couldn't get to her threshold of pain and a few times I had to pause and study the situation to make sure that I wasn't reaching the point of damage. Early on, she had really chewed me out after a session for not reaching the level of severity that she had original indicated. A masochist in spades, she was small, with absolutely no fat anywhere. Her small tits had large nipples that were unbelievably sensitive. Just a clothespin on each nipple would have her screaming as if she were under a bullwhip session.

One day I received a request for an appointment from her in which she indicated that she wanted to be hanged by the neck. That brought a instant doubletake from me, as I reread her comments to see if I had really understood. I fell back in my desk chair, stunned, and wondered what to do. I liked women, especially submissive women, and while I greatly enjoyed watching then writhe under the lash, or in the rack, I had no desire whatsoever to cause permanent damage, and damn sure no erotic desire to see one die. I assumed that this was one of those totally maso/sub-women who fantasize about the ultimate torture. There was no way that I was going down that road.

However, after some Internet searching, I found that there is actually a subset of BDSM where the participants actually choke their partners to unconsciousness. Either by hanging, or with bags or other means. After lots more research, I had discovered that it could be done, not exactly in safety, but without complete danger as long as the air supply wasn't cut off for more than a minute or so. Still, I didn't want any part of this, and informed Mrs T. that we would have to talk at length about her request. Within a few minutes, she sent back a request for a special meeting as soon as possible. I could tell that she was not going to take no for an answer.

The meeting was interesting, to say the least. I told her in no uncertain terms that I had no interest in seeing her lifeless body in my hotel, and if it happened, what did she expect me to do? Show a paper where the lady gave me full permission to string her up? I could frame it and hang it in my cell while I was serving a 99 year to life term. She was insistent, and I finally agreed to try it once, and only for a short time, and a a massively increased fee for the session.

When the day came, I was on pins and needles, and within just a millimeter of canceling the session. I had made sure that she was the only client that day, so that I didn't have any other distractions. The first part of the day went normally - normally for her, that is, including painful sessions under the whip along with severe restraints and gagging.

In fact, just her gag sessions would outdo most of my other clients' whip sessions for pain. First, I would stuff her mouth full of a long wet strip of cotton cloth, and by stuff, I mean so full that no more would go in. Then, on top of that would be a large rubber ball gag. Since her mouth was already full, the ball wouldn't even start to enter. I would move behind her, placing the back of her head against my chest for support, then pull as hard as I could on the ball straps until I could just barely set the buckle hook into the first hole. After that, she could make almost no sound at all from her vocal chords, even under the most severe lashing.

A partial hood, enclosed her hair and covered her ears, which also had cotton pads taped over them. She could see, but not speak or hear.

I hauled her up by her wrists till her only her toes were touching the floor, then spread her legs with chains, which had the effect of totally suspending her by her wrists as the angle of her legs caused her feet to leave the floor. Then I put the punishment strap to her as hard as I could swing it. With the maximum gag in her mouth, she could barely give out an almost inaudible whimper as her back, butt and legs turned cherry red from the wide blade of the strap. Then I let her hang for an hour, dropped her to the floor and laced the single glove over her arms as tightly as it would go. The openings of the glove met together at the lace eyelets, and her elbows were touching behind her back.

Her ankles were drawn up behind her and attached to the end ring of the glove, so that she was hog tied and immobile.

Then, I picked her up bodily, and carried her to a special room that I had set up just for her. I laid her on a pallet on the floor, on her side so that she could look up and see a genuine hangman's noose dangling from the ceiling. I left her there for two hours.

When the time came, I didn't know how she was feeling, but my heart was racing in overdrive. Unknown to her, I had a small oxygen bottle and mask just around the corner. When I released the rope, I wanted her back to consciousness, ASAP. She was still laying there, obviously, but since she never used a safe word or object, she was going to be hanged, no matter what she was thinking.

I released her ankles, stood her up and gave her a few moments for the cramps to subside, then picked her up. At this point she began a feeble struggle and I could hear a low keening through her gag. Apparently she was starting to panic at the idea of what was to come. Despite that, I stood her on the little stool under the noose, facing away from the door. When I adjusted the noose to be tight but without restricting any airflow she became very still. When the time came, I only wanted her to be strangled, not to drop and break her neck. Lastly, I pulled the front flap of the hood down to cover her eyes. Now she was deaf, dumb and blind. I left her standing there on the stool, with the noose snuggly around her neck, and went back to my office.

As soon as I got there, I realized with horror that I had made a major tactical mistake. If she fell off the stool, then when I went back I was going to have a body on my hands. I hotfooted back to her room, entered quietly, then just sat down and watched and tried to calm myself. Jeez!, I was moving into some unknown terrain here.

I tried to imagine the emotions going through her mind at the moment. She was blind and deaf, so she would have no idea when the stool was about to be removed. She was gagged totally - there was no way for her to scream in panic that she had changed her mind. And, while standing there waiting for the sudden drop, did the thought suddenly pop up that I might be some sadistic monster who would love to jack off as I watched her dangle, kicking at the end of the rope, as she expired? After all, nobody knew where she was, or had gone. She knew that we were all alone on a remote mountaintop. All she could do was stand there in terror of what was to come. She knew it WAS going to happen, and at this point there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was wait... and wait... wondering just when that sudden drop would come.

Three years before...

At noon, I reentered Stephanie's quarters with some new gear. She immediately struggled to get up and off the bed and into a squatting position. Good, she was finally learning. "What did the slave girl think of her rear end experience, "I asked."

Keeping her eyes lowered, she answered, "A cunt's opinion is of no value, Master. Any part of my body can be used at my Master's will, despite what she thinks or wants."

Wow. She had been doing some serious thinking while laying there. Her answer gave me hope that she was trying to enter the sub world willingly.

Putting her on her back on the floor mat, I opened a spreader bar, and placed her feet at the far ends and her hands through the holes between them and locked it shut. Each end of a short piece of chain was attached to the ends of the bar, then the middle up to a ceiling chain. I pulled until she was partially suspended, with her shoulders still on the mat, but her feet, hands and rear in the air. Pulling out a enema bladder, I held it in front of her face. "Did Stephanie ever see one of these?" I asked.

Looking up and down at it, she shook her head. I knew that would be the case. Something like this was not advertised in the swanky mags that she probably read. I touched the end of it. "This end goes up your ass..." I moved my finger down. "... along with this balloon. When it is in, I squeeze on this bulb." I pumped one of the bulbs on the end of the foot long device. The bladder expanded to the size of her fist. I noticed that her eyes were expanding also. "That keeps it from coming out, no matter how much you want it to. This next little bladder keeps it from going any further in, as well as helping to seal your asshole. I know that you don't want it to leak." I blew up the second smaller bladder.

After letting her examine it for a moment, I opened the valves and the bladders collapsed. I scooped up a finger full of ass lube and liberally spread it all over the front of the nozzle, then over her cute little ass star. Then I inserted the tip and slowly began to push. She was reacting by holding her sphincter closed as tightly as possible, so I said, "Open your rear end - act like you are trying to shit. This will feel much better if you stop fighting it. I am not sure if she did, but it slid slowly in anyway. Eventually the first bladder disappeared, then was automatically sucked in to the proper position once it passed her asshole ring. I pumped it up, watching her eyes get even wider as she felt this foreign object expand in her rectum. Then the second bladder, followed by the hose. I hung the bag on the same chain she was suspended from, then opened the valve and watched the little ball spin round and round as the warm liquid began to enter her.

I had it on a slow stream for her first time, so this would be a lengthy process. To pass the time, I sat down on the floor and played around with her pussy, pulling the lips apart and pinching the inside, sticking my finger up as far as it would go, and in general just having fun. The entire time, she was protesting the feeling, and begging me to stop, but the pleas were fairly monotonous, so I won't catalog them here. Fairly soon, however, she began to cramp and I stopped the flow to let them subside. To help, I grabbed her by the hips and wiggled her from side to side to help the water slosh around inside. When the cramps subsided, I started the flow again. This happened several times until the flowmeter showed that she could take no more at this stage. I turned the water off and gave several feet of slack to the chain holding her up. By now she was begging for relief.

"Master! Please let Stephanie shit!" I was glad to see that she finally knew the words. I decided to have fun with her while waiting for the enema to have more effect.

"You mean that you want to sit on that bucket and poop into it?" She vigorously nodded. "With me watching?"

"Yes, Master, please let me," she pleaded.

"Have you ever let any man watch you shit before now?" She shook her head so hard her ponytail came loose. The internal pressures were really becoming urgent. "Then why would you want me to watch?"

"A cunt doesn't mind if you watch, Master. Please let me go."

"Well, I need to leave you here like this for at least a couple of hours" - a lie - "so you can be cleaned out properly. But if you really need to go, what will you offer me to allow you to shit right now?" I waited for the answer.

She was almost crying now. "Anything you want, Master. Pleeeease."

"Tell me," I insisted, sternly.

"You can fuck me Master. Anyway you want." I waited. "I'll suck your dick, Master. Anything. Pleeeease."

"Will you lick my asshole?" She didn't even hesitate. "Yes, yes, yes. Anything." "Make me a sandwich?" "Yes, Master. Anything. PLEASE let me shit."

It was obvious that she was now just babbling, without realizing what she was saying, so I stood behind her, lifted her up and set her ass over the top of the bucket. I had a short and narrow board across the front top of the bucket that the front of her ass and legs could sit on so she didn't just fall in. I reached between her legs, pulled up the end of the flexible nozzle, and opened the valve on the internal bladder. It quickly deflated and was blown out immediately, as did a steady stream of water and shit. Her relief was immediate.

In a few minutes, when her well finally went dry, I set her back on the floor and pulled her back up into position. As I started to insert the bladder again, she plaintively cried, "Master, please don't do it again. Stephanie will do anything you want."

I smiled. "Don't worry. This time it will be much less painful. You're pretty well empty, all this will do is totally clean you out. Look on the bright side - you're not going to have to shit for days." I got her ready, filled the bag again, and started the flow. Sure enough, except for a couple of times of minor cramping, she took almost a whole gallon before the flow meter started to slow down - very impressive for a beginner. She had a definite bulge in her lower abdomen where all that water was trying to find a place to fit. Once again, I released her, set her on the bucket, but this time with a caution. "Don't strain. Just let it come out naturally." In ten minutes or so, I had a clean slave, at least inside. She hadn't had a shower since she arrived, and she was starting to get pretty ripe. But first...

I freed her from the spreader bar, then forced her to her knees, and with my hand in her hair, forced her to look at the contents of her bucket. "Take a look and tell me what you see," I demanded.

She wasn't quite sure what I meant since she said, "It is the mess that came out of Stephanie, Master."

"Try again. WHAT is it?"

She got it right this time. "It is my shit, Master. And water."

I let go of her hair, then stooped to look in her face. "A cunt is correct. It is shit. It is a natural product of your body. Of anybody's body. It isn't evil, it isn't going to pollute you if you touch it, it isn't embarrassing, it is just the natural result of eating. It's just our western culture that has made any reference to it, taboo."

I stood up and pointed to the bathroom. "Go take a shower."

This was one command that she welcomed and almost ran through the bathroom door.

The Mountaintop

After almost two hours, I decided it was time. I went over my actions in my mind one more time, then quietly moved over to the stool and grabbed it with both hands. Taking a deep breath, I yanked it out from under her feet. She only dropped a few inches, but that was obviously enough to close off her air supply. Her legs immediately began the hanged man's kick, violently and desperately trying to find something to stand on to relieve the pressure. Then her bladder let go and a stream of piss splashed across her legs and onto the floor. It might have been an erotic view if I wasn't desperately concentrating on her movements and the time. When my watch indicated 90 seconds, she was coming down regardless, but before that time, her movements gradually slowed to just a few muscle jerks as she lost consciousness. When all movement stopped, I put an arm around her body then yanked on the release rope which detached the noose from the ceiling. In seconds I had her laying on the pallet, the gag off and the cotton jerked out of her mouth. I was very relieved to see that her body had gone into automatic recovery and was inhaling deep breaths on it's own. Looking under the eye flap, I saw her start to regain consciousness, so I picked her up and carried her back to her room.

As per her instructions, I laid her on her back with her behind at the edge of the rack, attached the ring of the single glove to the edge of the table, then lifted both legs and connected them back, high and behind her head. She was now wide open for fucking, later. I sat down and diddled around with her twat and asshole for a few minutes, waiting for her breathing to get back to normal. I was surprised to find myself hard as a rock. Strange, after that experience.

Before she could speak, the gag went back in. Not the rag, just the ball this time, in a normal closure.

Then I stepped up and inserted my dong up her love channel and and started a slow pump. I had a vibrator standing by in case she wanted it, but it wasn't necessary. I had my dick up her front slit, a finger stirring around in her asshole and the other hand pinching and pulling on her nipples. In just a short while she went up like a rocket. It was a massive orgasm - I could actually feel the muscles around her butthole and inside her twat contracting in spasms - the first time I had ever experienced that. In fact, she made it way ahead of me - I had to hurry and catch up.

With that, I unhooked her, and left for my quarters for a shower.

Two hours later, she still had not emerged from her bondage room. Somewhat worried, I walked over and peered in. She was stretched out on the bed, still stark naked, and sound asleep - obviously, the reaction of being condemned then reprieved at the last second was exhausting. Since she was one of my divorcees, I knew that there was no pressing deadline that she had to meet to get back home, so I just let her sleep it off.

The next morning, she entered my office, very quiet and subdued, which was not unremarkable given that she had just been hung by the neck for real. In fact, she kissed me, dropped a heavy packet on my desk, and wished me goodbye until next time.

I was glad that I had no more clients that week. Some time off was what I needed. I retired to the cave, and relaxed for several days by reading, surfing and, of course, tying and banging my cave bitch.

Three years before...

For the rest of the day, I just let Stephanie hang in chains - not painful, just, well, hanging around. Her legs were spread wide, of course, and her arms were over her head, but not pulled tight. I walked in and finger fucked her every now and then, and pinched nipples for fun. And just to show that anything she had was available to me, in the late afternoon I fucked her pussy standing up. Well, not only to show her availability - in fact, I was about to blow a pressure fuse myself if I didn't relieve myself. And who want to use his right hand when there is a set of beautiful set of holes hanging around and available?

The next morning, she was up and waiting, and the surprising part, seemed to be cheerful. My hopes that she would get into the sub scene went up considerably.

The last afternoon I had been working on another device that I dreamed up and from measurements that I made of her body as she stood in the chains. It was just a three inch steel pipe, with a one inch pipe welded to it in the shape of a religious cross but then bent into a U that was just wide enough to fit under each armpit. Up and down the back were rings welded at different locations as attachment points. It fit into a larger pipe that I had mounted in the center of her room flush with the floor, by hammer drilling a hole in the concrete, then setting it in with quickset cement. This method allowed me to remove the device after use, or take it away and modify it, or build something else to fit the mounting hole in the floor.

I put it in the mounting hole, and told her to stand with her back to it. To fit her body inside of the U, she had to raise her arms, then drop them over the small pipe. I then manacled them behind the large pole. I spread her legs out wide, which had the effect of making her hang by her armpits since her feet were no longer supporting her weight. Two wide cloth slings were then placed around her thighs, starting almost at her crack. These were attached to rings behind her shoulders and tightened until they supported a substantial portion of her weight. Another large sling was placed around her waist and also connected to the vertical pole in such a way as to support more of her. Lastly, her legs were bent up behind her and a chain connected from the cross bar to each ankle bracelet, again supporting part of the load. I adjusted the tension for a while, trying to get it all equalized out, then stood back and looked.

It was a wonderful view - everything was in plain sight, and available for use except for her asshole, and I had other plans for that little item shortly. As she hung, she was not in any pain - yet. But the contorted position was going to start get uncomfortable fairly soon, then it was going to go downhill from there, painwise. Just to forestall any protests, I installed a spider gag in her mouth. This time she didn't try to fight it - just opened her mouth wide for its installation. I left her head unattached so she could look up and down and around.

I picked up an ordinary dildo, about the size of an average dick and showed it to her. "Remember yesterday when I plugged your cute little asshole with my dick?" She nodded. "You're too tight. It needs to be stretched to a wider diameter." She shook her head slightly, but I wasn't sure if she was protesting or not. "If I sell you to a bordello, your butthole will be used as often as your pussy. And some men are way larger than me. You don't want to be damaged by an oversized cock." That elicited a low "uhhhhhhh." I didn't know if she was commenting on the idea of a gigantic dick up her ass, or my reminding her that she might be sold to a whorehouse, and by way of inference, that she wasn't going to be turned loose at the end of the week.

The dildo fit on a mount that had a clamp that could be slid up and down the vertical pole. I attached it, squirted a goodly amount of lube on the end, then slowly raised it until it began to enter her behind. Once it was fully seated, I locked it in place, stepped around in front, did some fingering for a few minutes, then left her to hang in the slings.

An hour later, I assumed that the pain and cramping levels would be rising significantly, so I entered for another look. Of course, she had drooled all down the front of her body, from between her tits to where it finally migrated to her crack, then to the floor. She looked at me pleadingly, hoping that I had entered to let her go. I checked everything, just to make sure that nothing was turning blue to indicate poor circulation, then began to strap on the butterfly vibrator. I set it to low and watched her jump as the pulses first hit her clit. I left for another fifteen minutes, then came back to find her moaning in a low tone and trying to wiggle her body where the vibrator was attached.

While she was distracted, I unclamped the ass-dildo, slid it out and removed it. Then I attached a considerably larger one, lubed it, and pushed it in. That got her attention, as she started trying to shout something without being about to move her mouth muscles. All it produced was noise and more dribble. It turned the vibrator up slightly and left again.

Another hour later she was halfway between heaven and hell. The cramps from the unnatural position had set in big time, as did the feeling from the big object stretching her tiny asshole. At the same time, she desperately wanted to come, but the vibrator was set at a position too low to push her over. It was about time to take her down, since I didn't want pulled muscles to result. I turned up the vibrator to medium and watched the immediate effect. In a minute or so, I flipped it to high and watched her thrash around to the limit of her bonds. Shortly, a long drawn out gurgling "AHHHHHHHH" announced that she had cum. I flipped the butterfly off, then removed it.

Her head hung forward loosely for a few minutes as she recovered. Then as the pleasure faded, the pain of her position began to return. As did the moaning, which she probably did on purpose to let me know that she was in pain. I stepped up to her and asked, "Would you like to be turned loose?" She nodded vigorously. I felt her arms and legs and pretended to be checking something. Shaking my head, I said "No. You probably need another hour or two on the post." That immediately brought a spasm of head shaking and a loud "OOHHHHHHH AASER," which I took to be a negative reply. Pretending to think for a minute, I offered, "Well, if you want me to fuck you right now, I'll let you down when I'm through. How about that idea?" Another vigorous nodding session.

I spit lubed myself, stepped up to her and shoved my cock into her pussy - no finesse, now. I just hammered away. I pulled her head back and said, "Give me some tongue." She stuck it out and we exchanged mouth fluids until I blew a load into her. This time I had to clean my own self up, which took a little time in the bathroom, but eventually I began to take her bonds off one at a time. She could barely stand up, when I was done, so I pushed her onto her bed, locked her collar to the wall chain, and left.

The Mountaintop

I was accepting no more clients, and told my existing ones not to recommend me to any others. I told them the truth, that I had a full schedule of about two a week, three weeks out of the month, and any more would put us all in jeopardy of being exposed. That kind of reasoning was something they could understand, since security was foremost in the minds of almost all. All of my clients were wealthy - they had to be to afford my services - and the majority were married. All to the same type of husband - a go-getting high pressure executive type who spent eighteen hours a day at the office and all weekends at the club talking about working at the office. The rest were divorcees except for two widows. All were between thirty and forty-five years of age, except for one fifty year old lady who was a real tiger. I would have loved to have met her when she was a teenager - she could probably have squeezed a man's balls dry from across the room.

Some came on a regular schedule, some were limited to times when there husbands were off at a "conference", which probably meant they were shagging teenyboppers between bar sessions. Some only scheduled when the hormonal pressures required release. My ladies, as I thought of them, were to a girl, wonderful. At least, they were once they got over the fright of beginning a really scary relationship. Interestingly, only about a third required sex during their sessions. For the rest, just the bondage and torture was enough, although I assume that most of them fingered themselves off at the end of the session.

Through my offshore bank, I had bought various stocks which were doing very well and I was well on my way to becoming a multi-multi millionaire. My gold was doubling in value ever year, also. After discussing the situation with my "financial advisor", I took a trip overseas, made some business arrangements, and while I was there, truly enjoyed myself. When I got back, I was a contract programmer for a company in a foreign country, with an excellent income that would allow me to live the part of a wealthy businessman. Of course, the company that I was programming for didn't exist, except in name, and the "paychecks" came in a roundabout way from my offshore account. But the trail would be very hard to follow, and the amounts involved wouldn't interest anyone in spending that kind of money to trace it. Of course, I had to pay tax on the income, but that was just an unavoidable expense of today's life. I kept enough money in the local bank to match my lifestyle, but not so much as to be at risk someday if the exposure of my hotel came to light. One week out of the month, I traveled.

Three years before...

After lunch, I walked back to Stephanie's room to continue her education. Once again, as soon as she saw me, she squatted in the proper position. I wanted to see just how submissive she had become, if any.

"Get back on the bed, kneel forward with your head on the mattress." She did that immediately with no hesitation. "Now reach around behind your butt and spread your ass cheeks so I can inspect your asshole." She did that act rapidly, also. After dipping a finger in the ass lube bottle, I stuck it in her and wiggled it around. "It's still way too tight," I announced. Of course it would be, since a couple of hours was far too little time to expect it to stretch any at all. "Reach a hand under your pussy and stick your finger in your ass and tell me what you think." This would test her compliance. Self fingering your own butt is another of those things that she would never have thought of no matter how horny she was.

This time there was a slight hesitation as my words sunk in, but she reached under, and after a little fumbling around, finally got her middle finger poked inside of herself. "What do you think, I asked," amused at the situation.

"Uhhhh. Yes, Master. It... It... feels tight," she stammered.

"Don't you think it needs to be stretched some more?"

Of course, there was only one thing she knew she could say. "Yes Master, it needs to be stretched wider." A very low voice this time.

"Ok, stand up." I picked up the waist harness that I had brought over from my office, and began to strap it on her. It was just a set of straps that fit around her waist and upper thighs which were connected by other straps. It was an ordinary harness that could be bought in any sex shop. But, for my purposes, what I wanted it for was the thin leather cord that started from the waist strap at the small of her back, went down through her butt crack, then v'ee off to come up on either side of her pussy slit and terminated at the front of the waist strap.

Once it was on and properly adjusted, I said, "Bend over and put your hands on your knees." I picked up the larger dildo that I had used that morning, slathered lube on it, then began to push it up her anal channel. She grunted and let out some low moans, but said nothing as it fully seated up to the rubber flange. Then I fed the leather cord through the end eyelet, and attached it to the back of the waist strap.

"How does your plugged ass feel," I asked.

She wasn't sure how to answer, but said, "I can feel it, Master."

I sat down on her bed, put her pillow behind me and leaned against the wall with my knees spread and the crop in my hand. "Show me your gratitude."

She was confused for a moment, then realized what I wanted. Clumsily, she managed to get down on her knees, then bend over and took my dick in her mouth. She did a much better job of it this time. The whip is a great teacher - if it were allowed to be used in public schools again, the grades would go way up and the discipline problems would nosedive. Eventually she received a mouthful, and with her eyes on the crop, again locked her lips around the head so as to not spill a drop. Once she had cleaned me up, I asked, "How does it taste?"

"Salty, Master." Interesting - Never having had a homosexual experience, and not wanting one, I had no idea of the taste.

I put her back standing in her loose chains with the dildo still in her ass, and left.

The Mountaintop

I continued to try to add to my catalog of punishments and restraints. I visited massive numbers of B&D websites, and every now and then got a good idea. A few times, a client asked for something that I hadn't thought of. I then would put Pancake in that device, or position, take a picture and add it to the list.

During all my time on the mountain, I only had two customers that I "lost." And both of them quit for the same reason. In one case the woman was married, and in the other she was a divorcee with a boyfriend. Both of them had gotten their significant others to become interested in B&D, or more probably, allowed them to become aware of their own interest. Both men accepted it with a will, and soon they could get all they wanted at home without need for my services.

Three years before...

Stephanie's physical bondage was coming along fine, but I needed to work some more on her mind. In the middle of the afternoon, she was still standing in loose chains with the dildo. I decided to tighten them up. Not to the stretching point, but to where she was definitely spread in the X with very little wiggle room. I wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm, and set the controls behind her where I could see them but she couldn't. I moved the chair directly in front of her, close enough to reach anything and sat down.

I held the crop up in front of her and said, "I'm going to ask you some questions and I want straight answers. The thing that is on your arm is a portable lie detector, like store detectives use in retail shops. Anytime I think you are lying, or not answering fully, or the machine says you are not being truthful, you are going to get this. One hard stroke for every wrong answer. Understand?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, Master. Please don't whip Stephanie. Stephanie will answer anything you want, Master." She didn't take her eyes off the crop while she was speaking. Some women my get off on being lashed, but she definitely hated it.

I reached around and turned on the little box - it beeped. What I had told her was total bullshit. It was just a cheap blood pressure monitor like you can find in any drugstore - I wasn't even sure it worked. But I was counting on her lack of any technical knowledge of anything to not be able to see through my little deception.

I reached over, stuck my forefinger into her pussy in the shape of a hook, then pulled her toward me as far as the chains would allow. Not for any particular reason, other than it was just fun.

"Tell me about the first time you were fucked, " I asked suddenly.

That caught her off guard. It was definitely not the type of question that she was expecting. She began to stammer, "Uh... I... My husband... Stephanie's husband took her while we were..."

"Stop right there," I said, and brought the end of the crop under her chin and made her lift it so she was looking at the ceiling. "What do you mean 'took her?' To the ball game? To the movies? Are you trying to hide the fact from me that he fucked you?"

"Yes, Master, "she blurted. "I mean... Stephanie means No, Master. A girl means that Stephanie's husband fucked her while she was in college."

I waited, but she had finished. I lightly swatted her on the stomach. "Keep going."

She was in anguish, trying to avoid the whip, but really didn't know what to say.

"Tell me more. Every detail. Were you on top or bottom? Did he suck your pussy? Finger it? Where was your tongue? Your legs? If you stop again, you get this." I swished it hard enough to make an audible sound through the air.

"I was on bottom..." She was really getting flustered now, between the intimate questions and the possibility of the whip landing on her anatomy. "A girl was on bottom. He stuck his dick in my... a girl's pussy and worked it in and out. We were kissing. He was playing with Stephanie's breasts and..." I stuck the whip under her chin again.

"Breasts are what a normal woman has. You are not a normal woman, you are just a slave cunt being trained for sale to a whorehouse."

"...Stephanie's titties and nipples." She was almost crying at this point in fear of the crop.

It was like a detective's interrogation of a suspect. I asked the same questions over and over in different forms, and she had to answer with the most intimate details that she could remember. I kept glancing at the "lie detector" whenever she paused or hesitated, which made her frantically try to remember more details that she could blurt out. For two hours I made her give descriptions of her most intimate actions to this point in her life. Not just sex, but how she wiped her ass, and what it felt like to spread her legs to piss. Anything that I could think of that might be embarrassing to her. She had to describe over and over in excruciating detail, things that she would have refused to tell her Doctor before a life threatening operation.

At the end of the session, she was a limp rag, barely able to stand up even though I had not used the whip on her for real.

I removed the dildo from her ass, fingered the hole a little to check if it was looser. It was, but I knew that was only temporary. Then I took the chains off and led her back to bed. By the time I brought dinner to her, she was sound asleep.

The Mountaintop

One of my clients who really got off on pain, scheduled a couple of days and requested something painful, but different from restraint or the whip. I researched for several days, then found something. A trip to the grocery store, then to the drugstore and I was ready. At least, I thought I was. Then I decided that I needed to test it before disappointing a high paying client. So, I tried a very small amount on myself... I just a few minutes I thought I was going to die, then I was afraid I wasn't. It was at least an hour before the pain subsided enough for me to stop sweating like a pig. Mutha frack, I thought. I wondered what the customer was going to think about the results of her request.

Her first day went about as normal, as she waited for her request to happen. I assume she went to sleep disappointed but that was about to change. About midnight, I snuck into her room and tried to get her ready without wakening her. I was partially successful. I managed to get her ankles connected to the corners of her bed, and was just attaching her wrists to the other end when she woke up. I then straddled her stomach and pulled a split mask over her head. Before I completely laced it up, I inserted a ball gag and buckled it behind her head. Then I pulled on the lacing leathers as hard as possible till the splits were closed. The leather of the mask was as tight as a trampoline all around her head.

Finally, I grabbed hold of her ankles and pulled as hard as possible to take all the slack out of her wrist chains. Then I reconnected the ankle chains to the last link that I could pull into the latch. Now she was bar taut and X'ed out on her bed. And blind, deaf and dumb also. All was ready. This was going to be interesting.

My new device was just a vitamin capsule, opened and emptied of the product that came it it. Instead, it was refilled with pure cayenne pepper. Dipping my middle finger in some ass lube, I bent over her legs to spot my target, then poked the little capsule at the center of her ass dimple, then pushed it in all the way with my lubed finger.

I turned the lights up full as to see everything, sat down in a chair and waited. I wondered how long it would be before the capsule melted. I knew that they didn't last long in the acid of the stomach, but wasn't sure about how fast it would dissolve in the rectum. However, I was prepared for that also. I had a disposable douche bottle with a small amount of vinegar. My tests had shown that the mild acid would dissolve a gelatin capsule in just a few seconds. I would give it about fifteen minutes before I used it.

As it turned out, it was unnecessary. In less than five minutes she suddenly arched her back off the bed as far as her chains allowed, then I watched her muscles in play as she tried every way possible to break her way loose. It was a waste of energy - Conan couldn't have broken those bonds. I could hear a low continuous noise, which meant that she was trying to scream at the top of her lungs. The sweat began to pour out of her pores. I wondered if that was the result of the pepper, or her exertions in trying to get loose.

In about thirty minutes, either she ran out of energy, or the pain had decreased considerably, and she lay on her back quietly. I turned out the lights back to low, and left. I set my alarm so as to wake up about two hours later so I could remove her gag and lessen the tension on the chains.

Three years before...

The next morning, she must have heard me coming across the compound because when I entered her room she was already in her slave girl position. I gave her breakfast, then let her shower as long as she wanted to. When she had dried off, she came back into the room, squatted properly with her head bowed toward the floor and said, "A girl is clean, Master."

She was coming along nicely. By this time I knew that she was a willing slave who was beginning to enjoy the actuality of her lifelong dream. Any woman who was fighting the lessons would never have come so far this fast. As I looked at her, I realized that her friends would never have recognized her. Instead of a staid, perfectly turned out, upper class woman, here was a female squatting naked in a most unfeminine posture, pussy split wide open, hands behind her back, with clean but untidy hair pulled back in a teenage ponytail rather than a several hundred dollar coif, a scrubbed and shining face rather than cheeks spackled with layers of muck, and wide open natural eyes unsullied by black mascara goop. I thought how unfortunate it was that I didn't have a permanent place to keep her, or I just might have.

She was broken to the bit, now. All I needed to do for the rest of the week was to get her to like being ridden.

The rest of the week was just a series of B@D sessions. Not much different than I had been doing for years with younger girls, including her niece Melody. I continued the mind training and by the end of her week, she was well versed in all forms of sex slang, body parts, and degrading acts, and could use, do or say them without embarrassment every bit as well as a professional streetwalker. She got a taste of just about every available bondage training technique, except for golden showers and scatology. Those could come much later if she wanted to continue her education. During the last half of her week, she was a bouncy little slave girl, enjoying the submission and humiliation of an owned nonentity. If it weren't for the fact that she had to get home before her husband, she would probably have begged to remain.

On the last night, just before dawn, I rudely awakened her, added a gag then hoisted her feet off the ground with the X chains. I gave her a few good licks - not hard, but she knew she got them, then proceeded to plow both front and back holes, before finishing up a load in her pussy. I pulled her nipples for a few minutes, then had some fun playing around in her split crack. I let out enough slack in the wrist chains to allow her feet to touch the floor, unhooked her ankle chains, then I left her standing there with her wrists over her head.

In a half hour or so, I returned, then walked up for a little more fingering this last day. Then I said, "Ok slave girl. You need to look really good hanging there. A couple of buyers will be here in a little while to look you over. They will probably want to fuck you just for good measure and to test out the goods." I paused to let her assimilate what I had said. "Right now, I don't know if you'll be going to the Middle East or South America. It depends on who offers the most money." I pretended that I was through, started to walk away, then turned around as though I had forgotten something. "Just don't forget what you were taught this week. In those parts of the world, slave girls who don't know how to act usually wind up missing their ears or nose. Maybe even their tits." From her eyes I could tell she was truly terrified. After all, I had been telling her every day that her slavery was permanent - that I was either going to keep her or sell her.

I walked back up to her, reached up and squeezed her tittie gently and said, "I would love to keep you, but with the money you'll bring, I can fix this place up as a real B&D palace. I can lure Melody and her friend up here as a new set of slave girls. When I get tired of them I can sell the pair on the open market like you and start with a new set." I put a blindfold on her, left the gag in, then turned and walked out leaving a thoroughly scared girl standing in chains. I left the door partially open - on purpose.

A couple of hours later, I prepared for the final episode for the week. I had been working on this last act at night, all week. Fortunately, I had brought my media center hard drive along, and had about two thousand movies to select from. What I was looking for, was either a western or a foreign film. I managed to put together a pretty good mix of audio, loaded it onto my laptop, then set up a menu for it.

I had previously driven my car to the foot of the driveway so she couldn't hear it start. I set the laptop on a stool outside of her door, walked down the driveway, started my car and drove back up to the hotel. I parked between the office and Stephanie's room, turned the engine off, and slammed the car door twice. I stepped over to the laptop, selected the proper menu item and pressed enter. The laptop emitted a Spanish accented, "Buenos das, Senor."

"Good morning," I replied. " Did you have a good trip up here?"

Another key press. "Si Senor, Excelente."

"Would you care to step in my office for some refreshment, before we inspect the girl."

Another different voice. "Si Senor, Gracias."

I walked over and opened then closed my office door hard enough for Stephanie to hear.

After about fifteen minutes, I slammed my office door again, then headed toward her room. Halfway across, I said in a loud voice, "She is in one of my rooms that I fixed up, Gentlemen."

I entered her room, set the laptop on a stool in front of the blindfolded and gagged girl and said, "Here she is Gentlemen. Inspect her all you want." Then I played a random conversation I had recorded of two men having a conversation in Spanish. I had previously made sure that Stephanie didn't speak the language. When the conversation stopped, I walked up to her and began to feel all up and down her front, trying not to do it in a way that she was familiar with. Then I reached around at the same time with the other hand and ran it up and down her back. She had her legs together and didn't spread them, so I stepped back and said "I'm sorry, Gentlemen. This bitch is trained better than that." I picked up the handy crop and laid one across her butt. "Open those legs so they can feel anything they want, cunt," I said in as commanding a voice as I could muster.

"essss, assser," she whimpered through her tears and around the gag. She split her legs as wide as she could.

I stepped up again and did a thorough feel job on both front and back, including lots of fingering in both holes. Then I weighed her jugs, grabbed hold of her jaw and moved it back and forth and up and down, squeezed her muscles in her arms and legs, felt of her feet and fingers. In all, trying to give a good impression of a pair of professional slave traders inspecting the merchandise.

When I stopped, I stepped back and said, "Gentlemen, feel free to try her out. She is a good fuck, a little untrained, but with great potential."

Another key press. "Gracias, Senor."

I rattled my clothes, then stepped up and began to pump my rod in her pussy. I didn't want to cum yet, so I went faster and faster then finally simulated an orgasm."

"Senor Garcia, try her rear hole. It is very tight."

"Si Senor." Then I began to rod her asshole. This time I did let go and pumped a wad up her chute.

"As I said, Gentlemen, she is some prime pussy. Let's step over to my office and see if we can come to an understanding." With that, I left the room and closed the door, leaving one scared and dispirited female, to say the least, hanging by the wrists.

It had been fun, and the week had been seven days of heaven. I would really miss the action from now on.

An hour later, I entered her room, unhooked the chains, fastened her hands behind her back and removed the gag and blindfold. I hooked a short chain to the front of her collar, then towed her out the door and across to my office.

As soon as the gag came off, she began a pitious pleading between sobs. "Please, Master. Don't sell Stephanie to them." Interesting. Even in her panic driven beseeching, she automatically spoke in the third person. "Keep Stephanie, Master. The girl will be a good slave for you, Master." She dropped to her knees in the dirt and pulled on the chain and sobbed. "Please don't sell Stephanie, Master," she repeated.

I pulled on the chain. "Get up." We entered the office, I turned her around, removed the lock attaching her wrists, then the wrist bracelets themselves. I pointed to a sofa. "Sit down." Then I unlocked and removed her ankle bracelets. She sat there feeling of her now lighter wrists, looking around for the two gentlemen, then at me, but still not with any understanding of the situation.

"I've decided not to sell you." She looked at me with a blank expression. "The week is over. You have to get home before your husband gets back."

That did it. Suddenly, comprehension dawned on her that I had not been serious about her permanent slavery, although she still assumed that there had been two other men here a short while ago. Then the waterworks started. She broke down into a major female sob session that went on for almost five minutes. When the river began to run dry, she just sat there on the sofa, rocking to and fro, and saying over and over, "Oh my God, Oh my God..."

"When you feel up to it," I said, "go into the bathroom and clean up. Your clothes are hanging on the shower curtain rod. I will make us some breakfast."

Chapter 2 (added: 12/03/2010)

Three years before...

A week after Stephanie's ordeal ended, she asked me to meet her at the same restaurant as before. This time, we were in a small, very plush, conference room. When she walked through the door, she was back to looking like an entrepreneurs wife. But this meeting was vastly less formal than the previous. After closing the door, she walked up to me and kissed me full on, and only then sat down at the table.

She pulled out a very fat envelope, and pushed it across the table. "This is the remuneration I promised." I picked it up, opened the flap and found that the wad of hundred dollar bills wouldn't choke a horse, but mainly because a horse couldn't get its mouth around something that big. I started to say something, but she beat me to it. "Forget it. I would pay far more than that to have that experience again."

"Thank you," was all I could come up with.

She went on. "I didn't come here to give you money. I could have just dropped it off at your house. I want to talk about your future. Interested?"

I nodded, wondering what was up, but would wager that B&D was involved.

In a much lower voice, she leaned over and said. "I am no expert on bondage as you know - well, actually, I know a whole lot more about it than I knew a month ago." We both smiled. "But I can recognize expertise when I see it, and you, sir, are an expert. Have you thought about making it your career?"

That threw me. "A career how? No girl I have ever known has offered to pay for it, except you - and yours was a totally unique circumstance. Wasn't it?" I added.

She went on. "Girls no. Women yes. Do you have any hangups with older women?" Obviously a joke, but I still wasn't following her.

"Don't fence around, lay it out," I said.

"Ok. Some of this is selfish me talking, because I want to do the same thing again. But, I was thinking that you could fix up the rest of the hotel and service women like me. Wealthy women, not young girls looking for sex. You would not believe the number of women out there who are nothing but window dressing for their husbands. Bored stiff, trying to find something to make the days pass a little faster. I know of a club full, just myself."

"They would contract with you to do the same thing you did to me, except obviously tailored to their desires. At least some of them, not all by any means."

Holy cow. This was moving out into rarified air in a hurry. "How would I find clients? Advertise in women's magazines about this wonderful bondage hotel on the mountaintop? Come on by, let me rip your clothes off and lash you senseless? Oh, by the way, bring lots of money? Somehow, I expect that my first customer would be the local sheriff."

"Of course not," she replied. "You would have to be discrete. So discrete as to make the the local mob look like a public club." There was a polite knock on the door, to which Stephanie said, "Enter." A waiter brought in a tray with coffee, ice and several types of soft drinks. After he left, she poured herself a cup and offered me one. I shook my head and selected a coke instead.

"It would be strictly word of mouth. I have a couple of friends that I think would love the service. With any luck, if they like you they would know of another or others. You would want to go very slow - one thing you couldn't have would be a steady stream of women driving up and down that back road. That would give away the secret in no time." She took a sip and continued. "No, it would be very low key and very exclusive - probably no more than one client a week. At the prices that you would charge, even that few will make you a rich young man in no time at all." She smiled. "And, of course, I will be a steady customer."

I sat back with a spinning head. My cohones loved the idea, but my practical sense was stumbling over a myriad of potential blocks. I mused out loud as thoughts came and went, "How would they make an appointment? There would have to be some secure way of communicating. Do all of these women use computers? Snail mail from them to me would be fine, but I certainly couldn't post the answer back - the wrong person might see it. Hmmmm. And some kind of a... ah... a interview sheet so I would know what they wanted and how far to go."

Later, I asked, "Would it be worth it? I mean, how much would a woman pay for this kind of service."

She smiled and shook her head. "You are an expert in dominating women, but I am afraid that your education is sadly lacking in the world of female spending. Let me give you a couple of examples. If a man is given a choice between two items of similar use, but vastly different prices, he looks at the quality, his need of the item and makes his choice. If a woman is shown two pair of similar shoes, with a huge difference in price between them, she will alway pick the most expensive. To her, price IS quality. If you ask ten dollars an hour to discipline a woman, she will consider you to be a hardup pickup artist and won't even bother answer. But, if she knows that you charge several thousand dollars for a session, she will automatically assume that it is some kind of exclusive spa, and worth every penny. "

We talked, plotted, schemed and discussed one idea after another for several hours. Finally, she stood up and said, "I have to get home, but think about the idea, and let me know if you want to proceed."

I was very interested, but I saw a ton of issues that needed to be sorted through. She kissed me again, and left. I sat back down, had another coke, thought about the last hour.

The next day, I drove back to the hotel, walked around and looked, took long walks down the mountainside - and all the while, furiously thinking. Plan after plan was dreamed up and discarded, but finally a vague idea of what might be done emerged. I decided that it was doable. The one thing I didn't have control over, and not a hope in hell of accomplishing, was to get willing clients. I would have to depend on Stephanie for that. If she couldn't do it, then I would have a fixed up, but worthless hotel with strange furniture.

In a week or so, I had sort of a business plan put together. We met again, this time at a different, but still lavish, location. The sticking point was how these women would communicate with me. When Stephanie found out that I was a programmer, she suggested that I write some application for the client's phone. I nixed that immediately. For one thing, I would have to write a different app for each type of phone - impractical. But the main point that I emphasized was that phones are not private, no matter what the average person thinks. The first thing that a divorce attorney, or a private detective will do in a situation like this, is subpoena the target's phone information. And all cell phones either had, or would soon have GPS tracking which is logged by the phone company. She might as well leave a sticky note saying, "Dinner is in the 'fridge. Going to get tied up and fucked." I told her that a computer was the only way to be secure. Her problem was, that most women of the type we were talking about, were not exactly computer experts. I assured her that all the person had to do was be able to use the basic functions of a computer. My program would be automatic to use, and totally secure. Unless a detective was standing behind her while she was using it, there would be no way whatsoever to pull any info from it at all. I offered to write one and let her try it.

Three weeks later, I gave her a flash drive and said to just plug it in and follow instructions. If she could use it, then I would see a phony reservation show up on my server. I also gave her a small card with the password long with my spiel about password security. The program wasn't finished, but it worked and she could use it as easily as surfing to a store to buy shoes - easier in fact, since it had only one purpose - to make a reservation for a room. A checklist was included so that the client could indicate which services that she would like to have performed while she was here. There was also a write-in section in case the checklist didn't exactly match her needs.

I decided to go ahead with the project and headed back to the hotel to begin renovations. It wasn't expensive, but took several months of intensive do-it-yourselfing. At this time is when I began to establish to the local authorities my new identity as a programmer, and that the hotel was just my new office. Over the same months, Stephanie and I streamlined the procedures for communication and decided that any first contact would be in the form of an interview with me at a location of the new client's choice. Also, during this time, she came up for a few days of a refresher course in subbing. A very enjoyable few days it was.

I moved out of my leased house, said goodbye to Melody and her friend, and relocated permanently to the mountaintop. Melody was very cut up about my sudden departure, but I insisted that I had a job offer that just couldn't be turned down. After a last session in which I tried to wear out her twat, I loaded my remaining items in my rented truck and headed east.

Time passes...

After I finished most of the work on the hotel, I still had no clients, but I was enjoying myself anyway. I wasn't rich, but between my inheritance, severance pay and cash from Stephanie, I had no need for a paycheck. I relaxed in the clean cool air of the mountaintop, exploring, reading, surfing on my newly installed satellite dish and occasionally traveled around in a radius of several hundred miles in sort of an extended vacation. I knew that eventually that lifestyle would become boring, but for now I was on top of the world, both literally and figuratively.

Then one day... An email arrived to inform me that I had a voice mail sitting in an anonymous mailbox that I leased under phony name. The hair rose on the back of my neck - was it starting, or would it be just some phone spam? When I called, all I got was a female voice giving another phone number. Holy shit on a shingle. I jumped in my car, drove sixty or so miles to another town to so that my GPS phone didn't log the call from the mountaintop, and called. As prearranged months before, I identified myself as an art salesman - whatever that is - and the woman on the other end asked for a meeting two days hence.

Two days later, it was the middle of the week, about one o'clock in the afternoon. I was standing on a street corner, downtown in a major city, in front of the bus station, holding a notebook computer. Shortly, a car pulled up, I looked and saw a woman waving to get in, which I did. She immediately drove off without saying a word. I looked over at her and saw that she was another swell of Stephanie's class - no surprise, considering. Probably thirtyish, good looking but not spectacular.

Shortly, she pulled into a parking garage, drove up the ramp high in the structure to a floor with few cars, and parked. As she looked over to me, I held up my hand and started my spiel - extensively thought through for months. "First thing, Ma'am. Let me say that if, at any time you become uncomfortable with our conversation, just tell me and I will get out and walk away." The first thing Stephanie emphasized was that any potential client was going to be on pins and needles and she had to be made mentally comfortable at all efforts. She gave a nervous nod.

"Mr..." she started, then realized that she didn't know my name. "Sir, I must be insane to even consider what I am doing, but I am told that you provide certain... services to women that..." She stopped when I held up my hand.

I had been preparing for months for this, so I had an extensive repertoire of sales pitches to match whichever way her reactions led her. "Ma'am. Let me make this easy on you. We are alone and there is no reason to be embarrassed at anything either of us says." I paused for a second, then continued. "Many women enjoy playing out a submission to a man - with some it is just that, play. With others is is fairly real. Unfortunately, many never get to experience that submission because of their status, families, spouse or any number of reasons. The dream or desires just stay locked up inside of them for all their lives. The service that I offer allows for a woman to enjoy that submissive status, in totally confidentiality, to any extent they desire. With many, it doesn't even include a physical sexual context..."

This was the startling fact that Stephanie wanted me to understand. From the point of view of a dominant male, all bondage and discipline had the central point of sex. That was what it was all about and it never occurred to me that it could be any other way. She predicted that many women would have no desire for sex, that the restraint or torture would be the be-all and end-all of their desired experience. I didn't understand that, but agreed to keep the sexual context of my services in the background until the woman made clear her desires.

I continued, "Some clients want only to be restrained, or disciplined ('for God's sake, don't use the word torture on your first interview,' Stephanie warned.) fully clothed and without any intimate details at all." I could tell that she was interested - how much, I didn't know yet. "If you could give me a hint of your desires, I can expand on this more fully."

Hesitating, she finally asked in a quiet voice, "I'm not sure. I feel excited about the idea of being..." the word had trouble coming out. "...tied up and helpless. When I see a movie of a woman being kidnapped and roughly handled, it's very exciting to me."

"Very normal, Ma'am. Few women go into an submission session knowing exactly what they want. It it almost always a testing and exploration of their desires. Some find that they like being blindfolded, or gagged. Eventually, they reach an understanding of what they want." Wow, talk about tiptoeing around a subject. I was glad I had practiced over and over for months. This was far different from talking to a young chick with modern ideas and just up front asking how they liked being fucked - or just being told.

I could see her visualizing herself in a gag and blindfold. She asked, "How would... " she almost said 'I'. "... a woman be able to... indicate that she wanted to... stop? Or..." Again, my hand stopped her.

"Very easily. For a client who can speak - that is to say, she isn't wearing a gag - I arrange what is known as a 'safe word'. One that normally would not be spoken - like Xanadu, or Shangri-La. That indicates that the next thing she says is not for play, but is really meant. "Like, please let me loose, or that is uncomfortable." If she can't speak, then she will hold a small rubber ball in one hand. Anytime she drops it, I know that she wants the session to stop and to communicate to me."

I tried to close the sale. "For your first time, it would be an exploration. I would let you ask for different procedures so we could try to determine your level of interest."

She stared out the window in thought. "How would I..." She stopped and started again. "If any of this got back to my husband, or family..."

"Let me assure, you Ma'am. Security is the major aspect of my business. My establishment is remote from here, no one would be within miles of us. Your tracks would be totally covered, coming and going. Except for the first contact, phones are never used again. May I give you an example of my security?" She nodded.

"After making your reservation - more about that in a minute. You would drive up into the mountains to my office. But before that, you would go through a security checklist that I would provide you. Such as... Make sure you fill up your car before you start so you don't have to buy gas. No use of credit cards on the way - they can be traced. Don't enter a toll road or bridge - that definitely flags the fact that you came through. Don't speed and get a ticket. When you arrive, your car will be locked in a garage even though my property is so remote that it wouldn't be in view of anybody. Lastly, turn your cell phone off and leave it behind. Cell phones are the leading cause of people's secret moves being exposed. There are many more items, but I offer these to show you that confidentiality is my major concern."

At least she was becoming less nervous, I could tell.

"How would I make a reservation, as you put it?"

"Do you have an online computer?" I asked. She nodded. I handed her a flash drive. It would detect whether her system had Windows, OSX or Linux and would bring up the appropriate application. "Make sure you are alone in your house, or office or wherever it is, then plug this in and just follow instructions." I handed her a small card. "This is a phony business card for a shoe store. On the back is a hand written order number for some shoes. That number is actually your password. Keep this flash drive and business card separate from each other so if either are discovered by a family member, it is just a miscellaneous drive they can't access without the password. The business card is just that - some uninteresting advertising with a meaningless number on the back. May I demonstrate?"

"Yes," she said, warming up to the whole conversation. I set the notebook to where she could operate it, gave her the flash drive, and let her bring the program up. It was simple, just a few pages, but it was an eye opener for her.

A few minutes later, I said, "May I suggest that you go home and think it over. When you get to a private online computer, you can surf my private website at your convenience - there are many pages of explanations of my art." I didn't want to say bondage and discipline yet. "If you wish to try a session, you can schedule an appointment at your convenience."

"Yes," she replied as I closed the note book and handed her the flash drive. "Let me drive you back to the bus station."

"That won't be necessary. I can walk to where I am going from here."

Time passes...

Back at my mountaintop, I resumed enjoying myself. I heard nothing from anyone for almost a month, and assumed that my new business was going to crash and burn. Then, in quick succession, I received another interview request and at almost the same time, a reservation from my first client. I looked over her request form with interest. She wanted a play kidnapping scenario. No sex, no nudity, no pain, just restraints.

It actually went well. She arrived on time, early in the morning. After a short interview in my office, I led her to one of the rooms. There I had her lay down on the bed and I locked her wrists behind her back with light manacles. Then also manacled her ankles together. Then, with a chain, connected both wrists and ankles together in a hog tie. A very loose, hog tie. She had plenty of wiggle room, but there would be just enough discomfort to make her feel like it was a real situation. Then I gagged her mouth with a strip of skin tape - sort of a duct tape made with an adhesive made for human skin. Her jaws were closed so there would be none of the cramping pain for a first time ball gag user. Finally, I rolled her onto her side, unbuttoned enough of her blouse to show some cleavage, then pulled her skirt up above her knees and rolled her back on her stomach. There I left her for two hours fantasying about being kidnapped.

Next, after a bathroom break, I stood her with her back against a pole, and fastened her arms behind it. Then her ankles the same way, then finally a chain around her waist holding her tightly to the pole. This time, in addition to the gag, she got a blindfold. Interestingly, she had unbuttoned a couple of more buttons of her blouse. Then it was standing around for two more hours as a "captive."

Both times, she had the safe rubber ball in one hand, but never dropped it.

After lunch, I gave her a tour of my various dungeon rooms. She was fascinated and kept feeling of the chains, ropes and other paraphernalia. It was when she saw the equipment room that she began to realize that B&D was a whole universe to itself. She would point to an item and I would give her a straight answer. In a few minutes, she was resembling one of those Japanese cartoon characters - her eyes were huge round orbs as she looked from one device to another.

"Do women actually want you to put that... in... up...?" She couldn't find the words. I had identified a fairly large butt plug.

"Some women do. Not all, by any means."

"And if it hurt, they say their safe word and you stop?"

I shrugged. "It depends."

"Depends?!" she exclaimed. "I thought you said that you would always..." She stopped as I held up my hand.

"Some women don't want a safe word, or a safe object. They get pleasure from knowing that once their session starts, then they have no recourse. What they asked for is going to happen, no matter how much it hurts or how loud they protest." She gulped as she thought over the implications of that. "Of course, my absolute never violate rule here is, that no act will be performed her that will cause permanent damage to a person." I paused, trying to decide how much to tell. "Believe me Ma'am, there are women who enjoy unbelievable levels of pain, and are always asking for more."

We spent another hour of her time talking about the art of bondage. It was a very thoughtful client that I led into her next session.

She was fascinated by the chains hanging from the ceiling of one room and wanted her next ordeal to be in them. And with a ball gag she decided. I went back to the equipment room for a small gag, and when I returned she was standing under the chains, her skirt was off and laying on the bed, and her blouse was unbuttoned all the way down. Excellent, I thought. This little filly is getting hooked. Shortly, she was X'ed out in chains, gagged with a bright red ball, and standing in only panties and a bra that partially showed through her open blouse. She still had a safe rubber ball in one hand. She had requested to be left there until she dropped the ball. I had turned her facing away from the door so that I could look in without her seeing me.

She lasted almost two and a half hours, which is damn good for a first time with a ball gag. And so it went for the rest of the day. When her session was finished, we adjourned to the office for some refreshment. I wanted to get her opinion on the day.

She was apparently satisfied, to say the least. "I want to do more, when I can find the proper time to come over. I noticed on the reservation form that a person can reserve a session for several days."

"Yes Ma'am" I answered. "A client can do anything here, and have anything done to her that she desires, as long as it is not life threatening or body damaging. No client has ever asked for one, but if they wanted a month long bondage session, well... all they have to do is sign up." That was the truth. I had never had a client ask for several weeks of bondage. Or, except for Stephanie, any other clients, period. But she didn't have to know the details.

She opened her purse and set an envelope on the desk. "Thank you for a most entertaining and informative day."

"Thank you. You are welcome back at any time," I answered. "But before you go, one thing..." I pretended to look at a schedule on my computer display. "It looks like I have a couple of openings for new clients. If you know of any, feel free to give them that original contact phone number."

She nodded, "Certainly."

"But," I cautioned. "Please say nothing about the location of this establishment, or any details other than my services. This is for your protection as well as mine. Remember, I do everything possible to keep my clients anonymous - but they must maintain equal vigilance."

She nodded more vigorously this time. "Believe me, I would do nothing whatsoever to risk exposure."

We stood up and I wished her a safe drive back home.

Time passes...

That's how it started. Slowly clients found me. Very slowly. In the first year I still only had four, not counting Stephanie. But in the next year, as word carefully spread, I picked up five more. And since they averaged sessions about four times a year, I was doing a session with one a little less than once a week. By the end of the third year, I had about all the clients that I could handle.

The Mountaintop

A year or so after my acquisition of Pancake, I arrived back late at the hotel to town to find the lights were on in my office. I was sure that I had turned them off, but finally decided that I was mistaken. Then I entered my bedroom and got a major shock. On the bed was woman with her arms over her head and wrists handcuffed to the bars of the headboard - and totally naked. Her ankles were attached to the foot of the bed with rope, but loosely. She wasn't stretched out taut, but just held in a straight position without being able to move much. She was gagged, blindfolded and had a piece of paper taped between her ample breasts. "What the fuck?" I exclaimed out loud.

As I looked around, I saw a pile of money on the floor. Not zillions of dollars, but a substantial amount, it appeared. It suddenly dawned on me that I probably had another Pancake situation here. I peeled the piece of paper from the woman's chest, and started to read. I noticed that the handcuff keys were taped to the bottom. It said, in whole...


A slave is now under your total control and is totally dependent on you. The slave no longer has it's job and cannot support itself. The slave's driver's license and all official documents have been shredded. The slave's apartment lease has been given up, it's car has been sold, it's retirement accounts have been withdrawn and it's bank account has been closed. All of the money now belongs to my Master to do with as he pleases. This slave has nothing and owns nothing, not even one single stitch of clothes. You may dispose of this slave anyway you will, Master."

Holy Shit, I thought. I was becoming like a middle eastern sheik. I looked up and down the merchandise, and then realized that this was a much younger woman than my usual clientele. In fact, I had no such young woman on my customer list. I started to get worried. If the secret of my mountaintop was so in the open that any random female wanting B&D could just find me, I was in for some trouble.

And, who tied her to my bed? I could tell that this probably wasn't a case of self bondage. And, who the hell was she, anyway?

I reached over and pulled off the blindfold, and another "Holy Fuck" came out. It was Melody. "What the shit are you doing here." Of course, with a solid ball gag in place, the answer, if any, would be meaningless. I lifted her head and unbuckled the gag and removed it. She moved her jaws and licked her lips but said nothing. It suddenly occurred to me that Stephanie had to be the other principal in this episode. "Is your aunt here, also?" I demanded. This time she shook her head.

I pulled up a chair, sat down, leaned over and said, "Ok, spill it. What is going on."

She finally spoke. "Is Master ordering a girl to tell everything?"

"Ok, cut the Master crap. What the hell is going on?"

"May a girl ask if Master read the note?"

"Yes, I did."

"That explains this girl's position. This girl doesn't exist anymore. You may do what you wish with it."

"Crap. That doesn't explain anything. How did you get here? And who tied you up? Was it Stephanie?"

She nodded and continued, "This girl wants to be owned by you just like before, Master. This girl missed you, Master. Every other guy just wants to get on and fuck and leave. This girl never found anybody else who could treat this worthless person like you, Master." At that moment, the phone rang - the ordinary landline, not my secret cell.


"Well, Master, how did you like your present?" asked a familiar voice - Stephanie's, of course.

"I figured you were behind this somewhere. Do you mind clueing me in on what the fuck is going on?" I wasn't sure whether to be mad, grateful or what.

"Simple. Melody is a sub, period. She wants to be owned by a man and is going to do anything to be owned. When you moved to the mountain, she moped around trying to find someone like you. I realized that her search was probably going to get her hurt or killed, since she was so desperate that she had no discrimination left. I finally hauled her to my house, almost by force, and had a long talk with her. This was the idea that I came up with."

The only reply that I came up with was, "Jesus."

"Your diet of nothing but older women hasn't made you unwilling to stick your dick in a young cunt, has it?"

"Hell no. She's still a hell of a piece, but..."

"Never mind. Go with the flow. You now have a permanent slave you can do anything you want with." Little do you know, I thought. Now I have a SECOND permanent slave girl.

After a few more words, she hung up. I sat there in the next room thinking about the situation. What the heck, I finally decided. If manna from heaven drops in the shape of a beautiful young cunt, why would I complain?

Back in my bedroom, I laid it out. "Ok, listen up. Apparently you want to be a real slave girl." She nodded. "I emphasize that the operative word here is REAL. You won't be able to wake up next month and say you are tired and want to quit. If you enter into this, it is from now on. Got it?" Another nod. "You will be completely owned. Totally. You will do exactly as I say or pay the consequences. As a matter of fact, if I tire of you I may sell you to a real slaver, or just strangle you and dump your body in the river. Still interested?" She gulped, but still nodded. "Ok, so be it."

I left her there to get a dose of pacifier from the 'fridge.

On returning, I gave her the "water" to drink, then untied her legs, and unlocked the handcuffs. Then I snapped on a set of bracelets - both ankles and wrists - and locked her hands together behind her. I waited for the drug to take effect but, unlike Pancake, it hit her hard. There was no way that she could walk to the cave in that condition, so I just threw her over my shoulder and started for the dungeon. Once inside, I set her down and called over a surprised Pancake.

"You now have a young bitch for a companion. Put her in cage number 2."

"Yes, Master."

Well, I now had another slave. A nice one - big tits, tight ass, hourglass figure, and long red hair.

Time for another drink. If this stuff kept up, I was going to have to turn myself into the local AA branch.

As I left, I was struck by another thought. I now had two naked females living in close proximity to each other. I knew full well that Melody was bisexual, but I had no clue about Pancake. I was fairly sure that she had never been a practicing lesbian, given her lifestyle, but I had no idea about her feelings on the matter. Not that feelings mattered in the slightest - if I ordered her to suck olives out of Melody's hole, she would do it.

Time passes...

Over the next year, I picked up another permanent girl, Twinkie, but that tale will come later. I was in heaven. Playing with girls a couple of times a week, then retiring to my dungeon where three sets of holes waited. Three sets who had no choice but to do my bidding. The only problem I had, was that Stephanie kept wanting to see Melody, or Cupcake as she was now known. In the dungeon, the girls were held in strict bondage. The steel was never off their bodies, and unless they had a chore such as cleaning or cooking, were usually restrained in some way. How tight a restraint depended on my mood for the day. All three of them could retain a large gag all day, and were accustomed to be stretched or spread or suspended for hours at a time.

The whip ruled. I didn't use it unless I needed to, which was seldom. As Cupcake and Twinkie were brought to the cave the first time, they got the same welcome that Pancake got. That is, a real session of hard lashing so as to know what would happen the first time they displeased me. As a result, they went far out of their way not to displease me in any way.

I enjoyed making them perform certain rituals. One was a very long monolog on being a slave girl that they had to sit in front of a mirror and repeat from memory. "This is a slave girl. Its body is for the use of the Master in any way he sees fit... " She would stand up at certain times, spread her legs and lips and continue. "...This is the pussy of the slave girl. It is for the use of the Master..." Or bend over and show her asshole to the mirror. And on and on and on.

When I ate, or bathed, or pooped, or whatever, they were required to stand there holding or offering the appropriate items. Or the appropriate services. Nothing brings home a slave girl's submissive situation like having to hold a man's dick while he pisses, or wipe his ass after a dump. Or just stand there for hour after hour with a pitcher or bottle in case I want more wine, or coke or lemonade while I read, program or nap.

Time passes...

Things finally came to a head with Stephanie about her niece. She stormed up to my office one day, without an appointment - a total no-no as to my rules.

She started right off. "I want to know and know now. What did you do with Melody?"

I motioned her to the visitors chair. "Relax. Sit down and calm down. If you're asking me if I killed her and took her money, the answer is no."

At least she sat down, if she didn't calm down much. "I want to know where she is and if she is ok. I'm the one who delivered her to you and that makes it my responsibility."

"She's just fine. As a matter of fact, right now she is locked in her cage trying to forget that she got five lashes this morning. She's my slave and my responsibility, not yours." I leaned over the desk. "But," I continued, "if you want proof that she's ok, go buy me a current newspaper. I'll take a picture with her holding it."

"But where is she?" Stephanie insisted. "I know she isn't at this hotel, because I checked."

I frowned. "How?"

"When you were gone last month, I came up and looked in every room. She isn't here."

Hmmm. I was trying to figure out how to defuse the situation. Stephanie was genuinely concerned about her niece, but I couldn't just waltz her down to the cave and show her.

She started up again. "There is no way..."

I held up my hand and she paused. "Hold on. Let me do a little explaining. Ok?" She nodded. "First off, let me say that I am eternally gratefully to you for the start you gave me. This place would never have existed without your help. But that was years ago. You were an upper class woman with certain needs and I was just a wage slave nobody. That's changed. Some things have happened her that you don't know about, but suffice it to say they made me very wealthy. Far beyond even the huge sums that I get for my services. The money was given to me willingly, without me disposing of any bodies, or anything else criminally illegal. In fact, the amount that Melody brought, although fairly large, isn't even equivalent to the gains I usually get from my investments in one day."

After a pause, I continued. "Yes, Melody is my permanent slave - forever - but it was her choice originally and I assume still is. However, whether it is or not, she will remain a slave."

Stephanie had calmed down considerably. "But where is she? Not at this hotel - I know."

"That is correct," I answered. "But I can assure you that this hotel is not the only thing I own now."

Her eyes widened. That was something that she hadn't considered. "Really?" she asked, weakly. I nodded. "Just her?"

"Sorry, that is not your business, unless you want to apply for the position." I could see the hormonal pressure rise in her, just thinking about the prospect of changing from a play slave to a really one. Let me ask a question, if you will. "How is your married life now? The same as before?" That question showed just how far I had come since I started my new career. In the beginning, she would have slapped me down for asking such a thing outside of a bondage session.

But now she looked away and said, "The same. The SOB's life totally revolves around his office. I'm just the decoration at official parties."

I nodded. "Of course. If he were a stud interested in tail, you and I would never have gotten started." I pretended to study the computer. "You're my original client, obviously. You come up here for a week about every three months. Are you getting tired of that routine yet?

She knew I was leading up to something, but had no idea what. "Not really. I know what is going to happen during a session now, but I still enjoy it, obviously." She stared at me. "Ok, what are you getting at?"

I smiled. "How would you like to raise the stakes? Really put some... well, risk into B&D?"

She was interested, wary and skeptical at the same time. "Go on."

I opened a desk drawer and brought out a small box - a beautiful object painted jet black with enamel, and inlayed with gold and ivory in scenes depicting a jungle somewhere. I had picked it up in Japan on one of my vacations. Actually, I bought two of them.

"This box has two locks and two keys. You will hold one key and I will hold the other." She said nothing, just stared at the box with an apprehensive look. I pulled out a new, sealed deck of cards from my center drawer. "This is just an example - you would want to bring your own virgin deck of cards to assure yourself that it was honest." I pulled the cellophane off the package and handed it to her. "You will shuffle the deck as much as you want." I couldn't follow all the emotions that were playing across her face - anticipation, excitement, I guessed. She began to shuffle the cards. Eventually, she set the deck down on the table, wondering what was next.

I waited for a while, just looking at her, to allow the tension in the room to rise. I slowly unlocked the box, opened the lid, set it in the middle of the table, then deliberately handed her one of the keys - this one was on a gold neck chain. "Take the card off the top of the deck, making sure that neither one of us see its value, then drop it, face down, in the box." She did, very slowly as if something on the table was suddenly going to jump up and and bite her. "Now close the lid and lock the box." Click. "You put your key around your neck, where it stays all week." I turned my key in the other lock, and put the key in my shirt pocket. "Put it on, " I said. She slowly drew the gold chain over her head.

I looked at her. She was breathing hard and her mouth was open. Something was happening, and she was trying to anticipate what it was. "Relax, this is just an demonstration - not the real thing. If you play for real, you have to ante-up."

"Now what?" she asked in a voice I could barely hear.

I smiled. "Ok, now imagine that you are up here for one of your normal sessions. Well, not exactly normal as before. Because, all week, during your bondage, you are thinking about opening that box at the end of the last day."

She licked her lips. "And..."

Considering that this was just a demonstration, she was acting like it was about to be decided if she was going to be turned loose or shot at dawn. Imagination is a powerful force.

"Ok, it is now the end of your week of slavery, and you can think of nothing but what is in here." I paused again and tapped the lid. She couldn't get her eyes off the box. As if it contained something besides one ordinary card.

"I chain you to your bed, or a rack or something, securely. You are helpless. I take my key and unlock one lock. Then I remove the chain from around your neck..." I got up, walked around the desk and actually took the chain from her neck. Then walking around to my side again, sat down and inserted the key in the her lock. I turned it. The box could now be opened.

"Now we are going to open the box and finally see what the value of the card is." Another pause for effect. "The suite doesn't matter. If it is anything from a two to a King, inclusive, the session is over and you go home. But..." Now she wasn't breathing at all. "if it is an Ace, your life changes forever." I pointed at the box. "Open it and look at the card."

She slowly reached over, opened the lid, picked up the card and held it up. A 6 of hearts. She let out a deep breath as though she had just been reprieved from... What?

I smiled. "If you pull out an Ace, you will drink from a glass in my hand, voluntarily or not, and when you wake up you will no longer be on this mountaintop. You will have been transported to a real dungeon, and will be a real slave for the rest of your life. Or, I may decide that I don't need another girl, and sell you to a whorehouse somewhere in the third world, just like on the last morning of your first session up here - only it won't be play acting this time. For my troubles, I keep your ante - which is... well, a lot of cash or the like."

She sat there, frozen, just looking at the box. After an interminable time, she slowly look up at me. In a very low, almost choking voice, she asked, "You've actually done this?"

I just smiled.

She thought a minute, then said, "I can see a flaw in your reasoning. How about if, when the person loses, she then tells you that she has left a letter with details to be opened in the event of her disappearance?"

I leaned over the desk, put the keys in the box. "Please. You are the one who called me an expert in my field." I put the box back in my desk. "Ok, lets postulate that such a letter exists. So what happens now?" I leaned back. "The police show up here and arrest me on suspicion of kidnapping, murder or something. They have no proof, since with one push of a button, or even the opening of the wrong door, all records evaporate. All they find is a building filled with, to them, sex perversions. But nothing illegal. They have no body, but still, I would probably be held for quite a long time before they gave up. Coffee?" She shook her head.

"Now, what happens you you? No matter where I am, you are still chained by the neck in a dungeon somewhere. And you of all people, know that my chains are not broken by a mere slave girl. You are eating food that is not being replaced. In a month or so, the water stops flowing - since I am in jail the bills aren't being paid. Then the lights go out for the same reason. So now you are in the dark - pitch black - wondering if the food or water gives out first. You hope it is the food, since dying of thirst is supposedly one of the crueler ways to die."

She jumped up. "Son of a bitch," she exclaimed. "Compared to you, Machiavelli was a bumbling small-time conniver." She picked up her purse, and headed for the door. "I'll see you next time," she said over her shoulder.

I relaxed back in my very expensive executive chair with my hands behind my neck. I HAD actually done this before. It was the reason that Twinkie was now chained by the neck in a cage further down the mountain.

A few months before...

Someone once said something like, "You can be educated in math, or you can stay an illiterate for life." In the case of my little Japanese box, it was true.

Mrs S. was one of those women who went from just a possible interest in exploring submission to a hard core restraint and pain lover. She couldn't get enough and was always trying to schedule far too often for her trips to ever be kept a secret. And I was having problems just thinking up new procedures to inflict on her. Just harder and harder lashings weren't the answer. She was divorced, but was always the target of family members trying to get on the good side of a woman who would die someday and leave a huge inheritance, although since she was under forty, I thought that the family vultures were getting a little anxious. I finally had to call her into a special meeting in which I threaten to refuse further service to her if she didn't agree to certain things. That in itself caused her to start begging as if she were under the whip.

I had heard the tale of the box on a trip to Japan, only theirs had to do with a story of between a King and pauper and used colored stones rather than a deck of cards. But it intrigued me and I developed it into the spiel that I told Stephanie, later.

I gave Mrs. S. the tale, in the same manner as I would someday give Stephanie, trying to illicit her interest in real danger. She nibbled at the bait. I could almost see her shuddering internally as she balanced the erotic feeling of potentially real slavery against the actual fact of real slavery. She kept asking me to demonstrate over and over.

Licking her lips, and counting on her fingers, she said, "So the odds would be 1 in 13? Correct?"

I nodded. "Well, the odds of not drawing an Ace are really 12 to 1, or over 91 percent. Actually, that is better than the odds of a slot payout in Las Vegas." What this female math illiterate thought she knew was that the odds of not drawing an Ace on the first trip were 91 percent, and on the second and third trips were still 91 percent, which was essentially correct. But, and it was a BIG but, the CUMULATIVE odds of not drawing one on the second trip were down to about 83 percent. And on the third trip had fallen to about 76 percent. Or 1 in 4. The operative truth here, is that, as in a casino, the house always wins in the end. And I had that second box, identical to the first, that could be substituted while she slept in the event of her having an unbelievable string of lucky picks.

"Here is the deal. As long as we play this game, you will bring with you a large sum of money - either cash or equivalent - that you can put in a safe here that only you and I will know about." Said safe didn't exist yet, but it would if she decided to play. "The next time, you bring the same sum and add it to the total. If you decide to quit, you can take it all back. If you lose, I keep it. It wouldn't be any further use to you, anyway. But..." Now the bait. "If you make it all the way to 13, you get free run of the hotel. Any time you want, and any way you want. You can even participate in sessions with me if you wish." Of course, the odds of not drawing an Ace in thirteen times, were close to asymptotic zero. "By the way, the more money that is in your safe when you win, the more opportunities I will give you to participate." This was a totally transparent ploy, but her erotic button had been pushed so hard at the idea of being in on the other end of the B&D action, that she either didn't care or didn't bother to analyze it. I also emphasized that she had to give maximum attention to security, rather than continuing to consider it an unwelcome chore. She actually giggled as she agreed wholeheartedly.

She started the game. Since she wanted to come so often, I knew it wouldn't be long before she came up craps. And the box was a definite psychological success. As the sessions wound down to their last day, I would find her staring at it in fear of what it contained.

That scheme had fixed my problem with that almost out of control client. Now I could get back to normal business and let the charade play out.

The Mountaintop

Cupcake, previously aka Melody, was being broken in to her new life by Pancake. I had given the older woman full whip rights over the younger girl after strictly warning her that any discipline would be only for instruction - any use of the whip for tormenting or pleasure would cause her status to be immediately reset to the bottom. Not to mention the fact that she would also visit the whipping posts for a long session herself.

Both slave girls were being broken to the gag full time, and could wear one all day long without too much pain. I used all kinds - ring, spider, ball, balloon, spreader - every type that I could find. Not every day, but enough to keep them in practice.

I enjoyed a show that Pancake would put on with Cupcake. It was almost like a circus act. I would relax in my lounger, Cupcake would be squatting in front of the chair, then her trainer would start the routine. It always varied, but as an example, Cupcake would be made, under the threat of the ever present whip, to stand up, legs spread, pull her pussy lips apart and poke a finger inside. Then she would lick her fingers, turn around and bend over, and do the same thing to her asshole. Then Pancake might stand over her and let her start licking from the top of her crack all the way around to the little dimple in Pancake's rear. At a sign, Cupcake would spin around, lock her mouth over her tormenter's crack, and start swallowing as Pancake relieved her bladder. She might be made to squat over a cup, let go, then drink her own piss. Or be given a set of dildos, of increasing size and made to insert and reinsert them in various holes and in various ways, always licking them clean after removal, no matter where they had been. And so forth, on and on.

Pancake obviously loved the routine. I saw her making Cupcake practice over and over - probably far more than was required for such a performance. But I didn't interfere - it gave them both something to do, although it was probably enjoyed far more by one party than the other.

When I was not enjoying my private dungeon, I was becoming quite a world traveler. I always blocked out one week of the month in which I didn't accept reservations. Every now and then, by random chance, a week on either side of that one would be left empty. When that happened, I usually hoped a plane for some random destination in the world. I had no interest in tourist destinations, with museums, parks, or scenic vistas. I preferred totally out of the way, seldom seen locations, if not in the third world, then at least in the two and a half part.

One thing I discovered to my total surprise, is that actual slavery is alive and well in a large part of the planet. And in a few countries, the entire female population was in a virtual B&D status all their lives. If not actually chained or restrained, they did nothing without the permission of the controlling male, and at any time could be beaten at his pleasure. Even beaten to death without much interest of the authorities, unless it was a very high class female.

A few months before...

Mrs S. made it to a count of six - I didn't even have to cheat. The last part of the last day of that session was like all the others. I put her on her knees on the floor, hands manacled behind her and attached to her also manacled ankles. A chain led from her collar to the wall ring. As usual, I stooped down and pinched and pulled on her nipples, and asked, "Are you ready to look?" She nodded, and even though this was the sixth time, was still breathing rapidly as she waited. I went through the ritual of taking the enameled box down from the shelf, setting it on a stool in front of her, inserting my key and turning it. I walked behind her, again stooped down and reached around to bobble her titties a bit, then removed the key from around her neck. I turned her key in the lock, then very deliberately, put it on the shelf with mine. I looked at her, but she had eyes only for the box. She was continually licking her dry lips as she waited.

I opened the lid, pulled the card out and looked at it. Then I looked at her. She was holding her breath, waiting. Slowly, I turned the card around to show her the Ace of diamonds. Her jaw dropped in total shock, then out came a long wail of "NOOOOOOOOO." I left her and walked back to the cave to get a dose of GHB. When I returned she was still wailing. She refused the drink, which I expected, so I walked next door to get a ball gag with a center hole, returned and forced it into her mouth. That stopped the continual pleadings, but not the noise as she still tried to protest through the gag.

I stuck a funnel into the hole in the ball, pulled her head back by her hair, then slapped her hard across the face and ordered her to stop shaking her head. I then poured the contents of the glass in to the funnel. She choked and blew some out from around the gag, but had to swallow most of it. I removed the gag, then just sat down and watched. Gradually her beseechings became lower in volume then tailed off into incomprehensible jabbering, then finally stopped. She just sat on her haunches with her body orbiting in a slow circle. I unhooked the chain to the wall, then the one holding her ankles to her wrists, put her over my shoulder, and carried her to her new home.

The next morning, I remembered the ante in her safe, and got a major shock when I opened it. It was filled with bearer bonds, payable on sight to whomever presented them. Holy shit, the whole idea of the ante was just to add some spice to the game. I expected her to put a few thousand dollars in it over time. She either had converted most of her fortune to these bonds, or she was far wealthier than I had imagined. I didn't need them, but obviously the option of sending them back to her estate was not available.

Twinkie, aka Mrs S., became the third member of my harem.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Money is the key to traveling. In some countries, a normal social security income would make a person the wealthiest individual in the town or village. That made me the equivalent of a multi-billionaire. I met people and saw things that weren't on any travel brochure anywhere. I was in Turkey for a couple of weeks, a very pleasant vacation spot, as long as you avoid the tourist traps. I had learned enough to ask where the train station was, and which way is the bathroom and normal phrases like those. One that I didn't learn and didn't ask was, "Does Turkey have many earthquakes?" As it turned out, the answer is "Yes." The other question that would have been good to know was, "Are buildings in Turkey built to California earthquake standards?" That answer, I found out, was "No."

I was just wandering through the commercial section of a medium sized city, enjoying the different shops and the barterings of the people. I turned to enter a long brick tunnel - holding up a viaduct - I think - to get back to the main drag. Once I was in it, I got the most peculiar sensation of... something. I had never experienced an earthquake in my life so my senses just flat didn't recognize what was happening for several seconds. Then, instead of hotfooting for open territory, I paused to wonder what to do. Finally, some kind of horsesense came to the fore, and I sprinted for the opening, with bricks starting to fall everywhere. I saw a young boy in front of me go down under a shower of masonry and, without thinking, grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him with me as fast as I could go. A falling brick hit my shoulder and the pain almost made me fall myself. Finally we just made it to the arch opening when the entire tunnel collapsed behind us with a roar. I stopped, let go of the young boy's shirt, then rotated and sat down hard on the brick street. I was sure that my shoulder was broken - it hurt enough to be fractured in a dozen places.

Through all the chaos, a woman had run up to the young man followed by two men, who appeared to be servants. She was probably his mother, since she was wailing with the normal anguished cries of any mother the world over in such a situation. One of the men picked him up, and ran down the street. The woman pointed to me, said something in Turkish, and ran after him. The other man, stooped before me, asked a totally unintelligible question, then motioned that I should get to my feet. He helped me up, and we started off in the same direction as the others. Only my shoulder was damaged - my legs were working fine and we made good time away from there and actually caught up the the others in a couple of blocks..

By now the earthquake had stopped, but the cries and shouts of individuals blended into one massive overwhelming sound. As I found out later, it was not all that powerful of a quake, but the unreinforced masonry of this part of the city had no resistance to any earth movement at all.

Eventually we came to a wide street, and entered an automobile. A half hour later, we pulled through a gate and stopped in front of a large building. I learned later, that it was a konak, or mansion. Apparently someone had called ahead, as a doctor (I think) met them as the doors opened. My companion led me into a foyer, and bade me sit down on a large divan. He then left and returned shortly with a large pitcher of some kind of fruit juice which I immediately almost inhaled, I was so thirsty. In a half hour or so, the doctor and a female attendant, a nurse, I suppose, even though she wasn't dressed like one, entered the room. The doctor said something to me, then began to unbutton my shirt. After it was pulled down, he gently poked and prodded my shoulder for a few minutes. He smiled and made a motion with both hands as if he were breaking a stick, all the while shaking his head. From that, I assumed that he was telling me that my shoulder wasn't broken. The nurse cleaned up the wound and taped a bandage over it as the doctor handed me a bottle of pills. He held up 4 fingers and made a circular motion with his other hand and finger like the hour hand of a clock, which I translated to mean, take 4 pills a day. With another few words and more smiles, they left. I laid back and relaxed and wondered how I would get back to my hotel from here, and if it was even standing.

I guess I dozed, but in an indeterminate while, a man entered the room with two more servants in tow, including my original companion. From his clothes, I could tell that this was the main man of the establishment. He stopped in front of me and bowed deeply. Then he said, "Sie deutsch?" A pause. "Vous français?"

"No, I am American," I replied.

"Ah olumlum, Amerikan," he said with a smile and another deep bow. "I am Ayhan Mustafa. I 'ave 'eard from my abla, of your bravery in which you saved my son from the... the... kargaşa... earth movement."

I tried to stand up but he motion me to stay on the divan. "My name is Bill Tatum, Sir. And all I did was help him up when part of the tunnel fell." Actually it was an automatic reflex. I would have done the same thing for a dog or cat.

"I 'ave 'eard differently, Meester Tatum." He had a very deep accent, but nevertheless spoke good English - far far better than I spoke Turkish. I won't attempt to copy his accent further. "You will consider yourself my honored guest until such time as your injury heals. For now, you need to bathe and rest." The first part was true for sure. I was sitting on a beautiful piece of furniture, in a elegant foyer and looking like a gravel pit worker. He turned, clapped his hands and gave instructions to the two men who appeared. "We will speak further, when you are rested."

I was led to a bathroom straight out of a hollywood version of the Arabian Nights, and with difficulty managed to convince my two helpers that I didn't need any assistance in taking a bath. Actually, it wasn't really a bathtub - it was more like a small pool. My clothes were whisked away and replaced with a heavy robe and slippers. In an hour or so, I felt like rejoining the human race - the pill had kicked in apparently, and my shoulder was down to a dull throb.

I was then led to a large study, with Mr. Mustafa sitting behind a desk and his wife in a chair. When I entered the room, she jumped up, moved quickly to me, grabbed my hand a bowed. And gave forth a stream of talk which I understood to be gratitude, but that was only a guess. I guessed Mustafa to be in his late thirties or early forties, but his wife was much younger. She couldn't have been much older than twenty five.

Mr. Mustafa rose, and bowed again. "Meester Tatum. My sister wishes to express her infinite gratitude for my son's life. The debt cannot be repaid, but you will consider yourself to be a member of our family. That is my wish, also."

Sister! Not his wife. "Uh... Thank you. Please thank her for me." A thought suddenly struck me. "I assume that your son is not badly injured."

"He has two broken bones, and many... how do you say... lacer... cuts... on his body, but the hekim... doctor says that he will recover. Had you left him in that açmak... tünel... tunnel? Yes, tunnel, we would now be mourning our loss. Please sit yourself."

His sister left us alone, but only after expressing her gratitude another dozen times, and we began to get acquainted. He was an exporter of chemicals and related products, and had inherited the business from his father. His wife had died years before, and his widowed sister had come to help raise his son. He was obviously very wealthy, and had a villa somewhere near the sea, and another retreat in the mountains. After a sumptuous dinner, we retreated to his den, and continued our conversation. He had sent a minion to my hotel, who found it damaged but not destroyed and retrieved my luggage.

I had been wondering just what to tell him what my line of business was, then decided to just stick to the truth. He was fascinated by the idea of women paying for submission. In his country, it came with the gender - not actually B&D submission, but, except for the major cities, woman's liberation was still in the future. He wondered if I had any pictures of my women. I reluctantly had to tell him that I didn't but that I would be sure and bring some when I returned.

By this time I knew that he was a ladies man, and not only from his conversation. A young woman, lush but not totally overweight, came into the room with refreshments, and as she served them he patted her in a way that indicated in no uncertain terms that he liked female flesh as much as I. He also indicated that if I desired a bed companion, I would only need to ask the porter who was looking after me. I was tempted, but figured that I didn't need bounce on a bed with a shoulder that felt fairly bad even with pain pills.

I only had a few days left, before I had to return. I had reservations scheduled back at my the hotel, but Ayhan, as he had me call him now, made me absolutely promise to return in the summer for a month long visit. And to bring pictures of my females.

The Mountaintop

What I always feared would happen, finally did. It was partially my fault, since I didn't reign in my clients who started getting addicted to B&D. This was Mrs L, another sub who started light and got into it as deeply as she could go. The problem with these clients, is that as the obsession grew, then the attention they paid to keeping it secret was attended to less and less. It was like being addicted to crack, or meth - the growing desire gradually overrode any fear of exposure. Finally, her husband suspected something, had her followed and had full pictures of her entering and leaving the driveway of my hotel. I assumed that my computer security stood up because in the preliminary divorce proceedings, only the facts about the "affair" were brought up, and nothing appeared about B&D. Also, fortunately, Mrs. L. came to her senses and acted like it was normal extra marital affair.

On my webpage, which, of course, could only be accessed by a computer with the appropriate flash drive and encryption key, I announced what had happened, and that the hotel would be closed until we saw how the incident would play out. I also used the unfortunate occurrence to lecture my customers on the absolute importance of paying total attention to keeping their B&D activities secret.

In this case, her husband was anxious to keep the dirty laundry from hitting any front pages, and gave Mrs L. a settlement which was quite sufficient for her lifestyle. Afterward, the hotel resumed operation, but with myself always reminding my clients to be fanatically discrete.

Mrs. L moved to another city, and resumed her activities at my establishment. Only, now, she didn't have anyone to hide it from anyone. Unfortunately, that attitude carried over to the hotel itself. She would just drive up during the middle of the day, without reservation, and want to start another session. When I realized that she wasn't going to change, I started making plans to solve the problem. I would give her the opportunity to solve the problem herself, or then I would take action. I knew that there was no way that I could just tell her to go away, that she was more trouble than she was worth. She would turn in to the woman scorned, in spades.

I scheduled a meeting with her.

"Evelyn," I said. I could use her name now since she had nothing to hide and was no longer afraid of exposure. "You are a problem for me. And my other clients."

She was apprehensive. I think she was afraid that I WAS actually going to cut her off. "Mr. Harris. (A phony name - nobody except Stephanie knew my real one) I'm sorry for my actions. I'll do anything you want me to do."

I steepled my fingers while looking at her for a few seconds. The pause was phony. I knew exactly how my half of the conversation was going to go. "Evelyn," I repeated. "You apparently want to be a full time sub, correct?"

She looked up in surprise. "Yes... Yes that would be wonderful. But how? Sometimes you are gone from here for weeks at a time."

"Correct," I answered. "Nevertheless, I have arranged it for other clients."

Now her eyes widened in even more surprise. "But... How? With who?"

"Those two questions won't be answered until and unless you decide to do it, also." I waited.

"Yes. Yes. Please. I have dreamed of that. Over and over."

I leaned forward and picked up a piece of paper and pretended to study it. "What did you do with the proceeds from your divorce settlement?"

That question was not one that she was expecting. "Well, I just cashed the... I mean, deposited the check in my new bank account."

"Ok, here is the deal. If you become a full timer, you will effectively disappear from society. You can't leave that amount of money just sitting in a bank. There is too much chance of the bank deciding that you have abandoned it and then confiscating the whole thing - they love to do that. Plus, you can't just disappear without someone asking questions. A runaway teen can, but not a rich woman." I handed her the sheet of paper. "You will need to go to this broker in your town, and purchase these items. And tell them that you will pick up the certificates." It was a list of bearer bonds. I had done an exhaustive research of them after the Twinkie affair. They had no owner's name on the bonds. Whoever held them, owned them. "Then you will bring them up here and put them in a safe that I will show you. Agreed?"

She nodded.

"When that is done, we will move to the next step."

Several weeks went by as she converted her settlement. The bonds were in the safe, her apartment lease was canceled. I had her buy, with a credit card, a first class ticket to San Francisco and then check into an exclusive hotel. Her orders were to reserve and pay for the room for a week. I told her be sure and tell everybody - her landlord, broker, anyone - where she was going. She didn't know what she would do then, but I told her to just check in and enjoy herself. And on Wednesday, she would walk to a certain corner just down from the hotel and be standing there at exactly 6pm.

And at the designated time, I pulled up in a cab, told her to get in and off we went to the airport. A small plane charter flight got us back to the mountaintop by the afternoon of the next day. She was bubbling over with the idea of her new life. I don't think she planned on it being FOR life, however.

I took her into a room, chained her up and enjoyed pumping her for a while, then left her there to wait for dark. Later, I entered her room with two glasses of wine. Her's had a slightly different formulation than mine. We toasted her new submissive status, and in about fifteen minutes she was orbiting in never-never land.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I now had four slaves in my harem. That in itself wasn't any big deal - The cave would have held fifty easily. But the logistic were starting to become the problem. A grocery cart filled to the top, didn't go far between five people, but still produced a large amount of garbage that I had to take off. I started buying basic foodstuffs in bulk. Fifty pound bags of rice, flour, beans, sugar, whatever. I would arrive with a full pickup load. The girls would start making meals from scratch, rather than single cans and packages of supermarket food. That solved that problem. The other thing I worried about, was, eventually one of them would get sick for real, or have a bad tooth - then what would I do? I was still searching for an answer to that potential problem.

I got an interesting request from Mrs. A. She was a divorcee, no childen, so she had far less to worry about than a married woman as far as being exposed. She liked tight bondage, but very light pain. She was also one who never wanted sex acts performed on herself.

On the comment form of her next reservation, she requested that she be fitted with a chastity belt. WTF?!, I wondered. I knew nothing of them, since I had no interest in something that would PREVENT sex. But, this was a paying customer and I started doing research. When she arrived for her next session, I discussed the matter with her in my office, in front of the computer. I had several on-line examples for her to look at. For some reason, she was fascinated with the devices. As it turned out, this was not going to be a temporary piece of wearable hardware - she selected one that, when put on the woman, could not be removed. At least, not without some heavy duty high speed cutting tool - used with great care.

Once again, she was the customer, and what she paid for, I supplied. I measured her for size according to the manufacturer's instructions, and ordered it.

A month later it came in - a fifteen hundred dollar work of art. It was made of woven stainless steel braid, had a belly band from which the crotch band descended to just beyond her pussy hole. From there a stainless cord went up through the crack of her ass and connected to the back band at the joining part of the belt. The cord went over the top of her asshole and prevented any entry into it, but was small enough that when she had to shit, the soft poop would just split and go around the cord. The pussy plate had the usual grid for peeing and a small hole so that a small douche syringe could be inserted for cleaning inside.

She was shaking with excitement as she looked at the belt laying on the table. I shook my head - getting excited about something that would prevent sex was - well, nuts. She took a shower, and stood in front of me as I fitted it to her. There were mechanisms that could be adjusted to get the exact fit, and for for a while I would set it to a certain tightness, and she would walk or sit or just generally move around, testing the comfort. Finally, she was satisfied.

"Ok, are you sure about this? When I set the internal latch, this isn't coming off until we buy some special tools." Which will ruin the belt, I didn't add.

"Do it," she said. I inserted the allen key in the hole of the belt at the small of her back, turned it ninety degrees and heard a metallic "snap."

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I had lost two clients after the Evelyn affair. (Her name was now Cherry Pie). Both were lightly into bondage, coming two or three times a year at most. I had a last meeting with each one, separately, of course. They were apologetic, and regretful at their loss, but they had gotten scared. The fear of exposure of their secret lives overrode the pleasure they got from mild bondage. I assured them that I fully understood their anxieties, and guaranteed them that, before the day was over, any and all information that I had on them and their activities on the mountaintop would be totally erased. And if they smashed and threw away their personal flash drives, there would be absolutely no trail from their homes to the mountaintop. I left them with the hope that, if circumstances changed for them, that they would someday come back to the mountaintop.

Actually, I was not at all disturbed. I still wasn't accepting new clients. And in fact, didn't want as many as I had. Money was not the object now, I had all that I could ever use and more. I only kept the mountaintop hotel going because I really liked my job.

A few months later, I blocked out a month, and headed back to Turkey.


Ayhan met me at the airport, threw his arms around me and generally greeted me in the Turkish way - that is to say, effusively. The rest of the day was filled with small talk, and I was introduced to his son, now totally well from his experience. I got a tour of his the estate, then his place of business.

That night, over glasses of yakut, he asked if I had brought pictures of my harem. I smiled and handed him a flash drive. I moved a chair around beside his and waited for him to pull up the folder with the pictures. I had dozens of pictures, showing them both restrained and standing in various poses with no bonds at all. He was a connoisseur, instead of just paging though, he inspected the girl in each picture and commented extensively. He really enjoyed looking at Pancake and kept coming back to her over and over. The Turkish wine had just about done me in, not to mention major jet lag, so I excused myself and headed for my room. He wished me a good night, but still sat there looking at the pictures. That night, I did avail myself of some of the pleasures of the flesh. My servant brought me a plump, big tittied desert. She didn't speak a word of English, and I barely could find the bathroom with Turkish, but we managed to find all the right spots. Later, a game developed where I would touch, pinch or poke certain places and she would tell me the correct Turkish word for that part. And I would give her the English version. Finally, despite the fun, my body shut down for the night, automatically.

The next day, Ayhan had to handle business, but that was fine with me. I roamed all around the city, thoroughly enjoying myself. That night, I got a major surprise. He brought up my pictures again, pointed to Pancake again and said, "Bill, my friend." Actually, it came out Beel, but that was all right. I expect that I was butchering their names, also. He continued, "I am unaware of customs in Amerika, so please forgive me if I offend you."

Somewhat surprised, I said, "Sure, go ahead."

He pointed to the picture of Pancake, then Twinkie again. "Would you consider to sell one, or both?"

I managed to keep the mouthful of very good wine from going the wrong way - mostly. "Sell?" I managed to get out.

"Yes, they are beautiful. I do not blame you for wanting to keep them." Beautiful? Pancake was a wonderful slave girl, fully trained in multiple ways to empty my balls and leave nothing but a hanging empty sac. She was not bad looking, but beautiful? I never thought of her that way. She was chubby and large breasted, but they were fairly pendulous. Her teenage girlish waist was long gone. Of course, I knew that in this part of the world, the Western idea of the skinny, almost anorexic female was not the ideal. Twinkie was very desirable also, but still, she wouldn't win any beauty contests. She was overweight also, like most American women.

"I don't understand. Can you buy girls in this country?" If so, that was a shocker. Turkey was almost a full member of the EU and I doubted that slavery was optional for entry.

"No, not of nationals, of course. And as far as the law is concerned, one person cannot be owned by another. But, many immigrants are sold here as domestics and bed partners. Our immigration laws are strict and the prisons are hell on earth - few illegal persons would go to the police and complain - about anything." He looked up from the computer. If you wish, we can visit a trader tomorrow."

"A real slave trader!?" I was, if not exactly stunned, then was at least having major trouble with the concept.

"Well, they are not called by that term, but in fact, that is what they are."

The next day, in the afternoon we took a cab across the city to what can only be described charitably as the wrong side of the tracks. The poverty was worse than anything I had seen anywhere, although I didn't usually take tours of slums. Walking up to a blank door, Ayhan knocked. It was opened a crack, then wider as the person inside apparently recognized my host. It was a dark and dingy hall that we were guided down, but it opened into a brightly lit room, with chairs and a platform at one end - the auction site, I assumed - correctly, I found out later. Shortly a fat middle aged man waddled into the room. He was introduced as Tarkan, the proprietor of this - whatever it was. He was friendly, and when he found out that I was from America, he went through the standard spiel of telling me, through Ayhan, of his uncle in New York and his brother-in-law in Chicago.

I got a tour of the holding rooms. Not barred cells like in the movies, just rooms with locked doors and thick windows facing the hall. I went from window to window looking at the... merchandise. Again, this was not Hollywood, with bevies of beauties in silks and golden chains. They were of every type, size and age. Young girls, ancient crones, middle aged women. Pretty, cute, ugly, deformed, short, tall, fat, very fat, skinny, you name it. Even the boys... Boys? I turned to Ayhan to ask, but he anticipated. "Yes, like anywhere else in the world, boys are wanted by a certain type of person."

After the tour, we went into Tarkan's quarters for a glass of wine - not nearly up to the standards of what I had been swilling at Ayhan's, but I needed a drink, nonetheless.

"How do you get these... persons?," I asked through Ayhan.

"Many ways," Tarkan replied. "From rural police stations, rounder-uppers..." by which I assume he meant crimps, "other traders." He emptied what had to be his forth glass and filled it up again. "And there are men who move around the world filling specific orders. A blond or redheaded woman will bring four or five times as much as a dark haired girl from the Balkans."

Holy shit, I thought. My girls were slaves, but they were willing or mostly willing, but this... I put my glass out for a fill up.

"How do you get an unwilling girl from somewhere else in the world from there to here?" I was still having trouble grasping this.

This time, Aylan answered. "I don't know the details, but there are many men for who the transport of such cargo is their full time business."

Wow. I just sat there looking at the wall, thinking.

Then, Ayhan stood up, and thanked Tarkan, I assume, for the tour. He invited us back for the auction tomorrow night. We gave our respects and left.

Later that night, in his study, Ayhan said, "You are troubled, my friend."

"No. no. I grew up in a fairly boring part of America. All this is just taking a little time getting used to. I am definitely not what is called 'continental.'"

After a while, I asked. "Were you serious about wanting one of my girls?"

"They are all of a very desirable appearance, but I would not offend you for any woman."

"How would we get one from America to Turkey?" I asked. "She has no identification, or passport and can't get any."

"Beyefendi, are you serious?" He came around the desk toward me. "But, of course, such a girl would be of great value. A price must be agreed upon."

"You have been a wonderful host, Ayhan. I would have her be a gift for my gratitude."

"But that is impossible," he exclaimed. "One does not simply give a precious stone for mere gratitude."

"Ayhan." I put my hands on his shoulders. "I don't need money. I am very rich, even for an American. I have few friends and make new ones rarely. When I make one, such as you, that friendship has no price." I smiled and sat back down. "Now, how do we get her here?"

He picked up the bottle, and filled both glasses. "That is a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, let us drink to our friendship."

The next day, after lunch, we were once again at Tarkan slave pit, as I thought of it. This time, the large room had twenty or thirty people in it, all males, of course. I sat down while Ayhan left the room. A little while later, he return with a young man that he introduced to me as Francois. French maybe? As it turned out, he was, but he also spoke English with almost no accent.

"Mr. Tatum, I am given to understand that you need a person moved from somewhere in the US to here."

Well, well, a genuine slaver of the 21st century. "Yes," I answered, not sure what else to say.

"Is there a rush?" I shook my head. "Is she famous?" Another shake. "She is just an ordinary woman. Nothing special."

He thought for a moment. "The fee will be twenty three thousand lira." I started to calculate, but he immediately said, "Fifteen thousand dollars."

Ayhan spoke up. "I will pay that, of course." I started to protest, but he held up his hand. Looking at Francois, he said just one word, "Done."

Francois looked around, "The auction is about to start. I will come by your house tonight." With that he left.

It went on for a couple of hours. I had been to cattle auctions, and estate auctions, but this one was nothing like those. The men in the room might have been in a coffee shop, for all the interest they displayed toward the merchandise. A girl, or boy, would be brought out by two of the toughest bouncers that I have ever seen. One looked like he shaved with acid, and the other had so many knife scars, it was hard to tell where his mouth began and ended. I resolved not to piss them either one of them off in any way.

The barker, or whatever he was called, was of course speaking in Turkish, so I had no clue what was being said, but he was as casual also. There was none of that steady stream of auctioneer chant common to an American auction. A man in the audience would occasionally hold up a hand, or pipe, or the business end of a hooka. Then the slave would be escorted off stage, sold, I assumed, and another brought out. Eventually, it was over and the men filed out. Tarkan came up to us and asked, again through Ayhan, what I had thought of the merchandise. I made the remark that every woman that I had seen was... I had to search for a word that wouldn't offend... plump. I hope that translated. Ayhan and he talked, laughed, then asked me. "Do all Americans like their women narrow?"

I smiled. "The word you are looking for is, 'skinny.'"

Ayhan translated and Tarkan said the word, "Skeeny. Skeeeeey." They both laughed and conversed again.

"Tarkan says he has a few skeeny women. Would you like to see them?" Sure, why not?

We walked back to the holding rooms, now mostly empty, then on down a corridor to a really dingy room. At the far end, he unlocked a door and invited us in. The smell was somewhat terrific, but the room contained about eight persons. Skinny, was an understatement. They were all women, and a couple were nothing but skin and bones. I mean, real concentration camp inmates. At least that is what they looked like. I turned around to where my cohorts were talking, and was about to ask, "what the hell," when Ayhan spoke...

"Those two women have actually been fattened up," he said. "When they came here, they were almost dead from consumption, probably from being lost at sea. Somehow they lived. They can't be just given large amounts of food. That would just kill them almost immediately. So they are put on a special... diet?" I nodded. " until they put on enough weight to be able to eat normal meals.

I shook my head, and stood in the corridor as Tarkan relocked the room. He opened a door in the adjacent wall, and gestured us in. This time, there were only three girls, none starved, but I had eyes for only one. A tall, long legged, raven haired beauty. A huge bust, triple D's at least and high on her chest. With tits that high, she couldn't have been over eighteen to twenty years of age. She had all her hair - pubic, legs, pits, but I knew that smooth women were a western fashion only. Her skin was brown, but she was not of negroid stock that I could tell. Not thin, but no extra fat anywhere. I looked at Tarkan. "Why is she back here? This is prime beef on the hoof." That didn't work - Ayhan's English didn't cover western slang. I tried again. "Why wasn't she at auction?"

Ayhan asked, then said, "She has been, twice. Neither time has she gotten a minimum bid."

"For God's sake, why?" I blurted, then remember that while Turkey was mostly secular, it was still a Muslim country. "I mean, what is wrong with her?"

"Other than being skeeny, as you say, she is a thief. Look at the brand on her thigh. I had missed that. It was some symbol that didn't look like anything to me. On the other thigh was another brand. I pointed to it and looked questioningly at Avahan.

He paused, hesitated, and said, "That mark is for being a blasphemer. Actually, I don't understand why she wasn't stoned to death."

"Holy shit on a shingle," I murmured under my breath as I bent over to look at the brand. This little country boy is a long way from the mountaintop hotel.

I saw Tarkan glance at Ayhan, then say something. Ayhan said, 'Perhaps you might wish to purchase her. Go ahead, inspect all you want."

"Holy shit on a shingle, squared and raised to the nth power," I murmured again. I don't believe this. I am in a real slave auction house with an offer to finger a real slave. A LONG LONG way from my hotel.

She smelled pretty bad, so I didn't inspect any openings, other than with my eyes, but as far as I could see, she was perfect. Good teeth, also. I couldn't say why, but I was fascinated by her.

We walked back to his office, which looked like an unsuccessful garage sale. As we sat down, I asked, "What is your price for her?"

The Mountaintop

I had been gone for almost a month, and my entry into the cave was a surprise to all, but I was satisfied that everything was in order. Jet lag was hitting me badly, so I had the girls give me a bath, then had Pancake lock them up and I fastened her into my bed. A quick fuck, and I was asleep. The next morning, I woke late. Of course everybody else was long since awake, and probably hungry, so I released Pancake and let her get on with the morning routine.

I thought about my present to Ayhan, then decided to send him both Twinkie and Cherry Pie. If he didn't want two, he would not have a problem getting rid of one or the other. I had learned that educated white American women came with a premium price tag in certain parts of the world. I told Pancake that both were leaving, permanently, and to lock them into a cage. Later that night, I drugged them and took them back to the hotel. There, I chained both in one of the mostly unused rooms.

The next week, I walked around, inspecting the property, then looked at the server data to see what might have come in. Just the usual requests for B&D sessions. I started to work on a schedule so that I could reply, when the phone rang.

"Mr. Tatum?" "Yes," I replied. "This is RDX delivery. We have a package for you. Will there be someone available to receive it."

My heart started racing. This was my new siren, about to be unwrapped. "Yes," I replied again.

"I see that you also have a package scheduled for pickup. Will it be ready?"

"Yes. But I have two packages for the same destination. Will that be possible at this time?"

"Certainly, Sir. The truck should arrive by this afternoon."

After an interminable morning, in which I couldn't concentrate on anything whatsoever, I heard a truck pull up the driveway. I walked outside and motioned a small rental truck to an area between the buildings where there was no chance of observation by anybody who wasn't on the top of the mountain. Francois stepped out. Interesting - the man did his own dirty work.

After a few pleasantries, he opened the truck and we carried an air conditioner box into a room. He cut open the top of the box, and there lay my new possession, curled up and unconscious. "She will come to in a few hours," he said.

"Has she been drugged ever since she left Turkey," I asked, somewhat concerned.

He shook his head. "No, certainly not. Only for the trip from... the point of entry to here.

Just for safety, I reached in and locked a chained collar around her neck. Then I led Francois next door to where my two gifts were waiting. He examined them, took a bottle out of his pocket, and gave me two large pills. "One for each."

I filled a glass with water, and holding a whip, placed one in each girl's mouth and gave them a swallow of water. They weren't happy with the totally uncertainty of what was happening, but were afraid to protest in the presence of the whip and a stranger.

"That will take about twenty minutes. Monsieur," We stepped over to my office for refreshments and to conclude the transaction. He informed me that my friend had paid for the delivery of my new girl, so I asked about the fee for the unexpected extra girl. He gave me a price of twenty five thousand for both. I counted out two hundred and fifty one hundred dollar bills, gave them to him to count - which he didn't - then a couple of envelopes to put them in. I thought all Frenchmen drank nothing but wine, but he enjoyed my coffee instead. After some pleasant and random conversation - and some information for the future - we returned to find both girls unconscious on the floor. I unchained them, took their manacles off and we took them to the truck. Since there were two, we had to reuse the box that my present came in, but soon they were sealed and ready to go. We shook hands and he drove off.

I relocked the gate, looked around just for safety sake since it was still daylight, then picked up my new acquisition - not easily - she was a big girl - and took her down to the cave. She was much cleaner than the time I saw her in the slave pit, but still was going to need a lot of work to get her up to my standards of appearance.

Of course, Pancake and Cupcake were the only two girls in the dungeon now, and were very subdued. Things had been happening since I got back that they didn't understand. Two girls were suddenly missing and, now, here was a new girl, totally unlike any others that they had seen, and their uncertainty was not decreased when they saw her. I locked her in a cage, and told Pancake to just feed her when she woke up, but do nothing else. I didn't know if I would have a tiger in the cage when the drug wore off, or just a pussy.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Ever since my return from Turkey, my attitude toward my current occupation had changed one hundred and eighty degrees. I had seen real slavery, and now owned one. The idea of playing games with rich women, now seemed to be... well, just that. A game. I decided to get out of the business, or at least cut it way down. When my next two clients arrived, I hinted that I was thinking of shutting the hotel down, "for a while." The reaction was immediate, and unwelcome. I had to backtrack and assure them that it would not affect our relationship in any way. Now I had a problem. It would appear that I was on the back of a Tiger and there was no apparent way to get off.

Based on the reactions, of those two clients, it appeared that there was too much danger of an incident - whether based on desperation, selfishness, greed, or whatever - that would expose the whole operation. I wouldn't have cared, except for my dungeon that couldn't be moved and wasn't far enough away from the hotel for me to just shut down and disappear. I supposed that I could find or build another somewhere, but that would be time consuming and probably difficult to conceal. I thought about the problem off and on as I became acquainted with my new possession.

Chocolate was her name. I had no idea what her real and previous name was. In fact, I knew nothing about her. Where she was from, what language she spoke, her real age - nothing. She gradually woke from the drug, that evening. I wondered if she would panic, but apparently the months or years of her captivity had taught her patience. She just sat there, looking out between the bars, with no discernible expression her face. I had Pancake prepare several different dishes for her since I had no idea of what she was used to eating. She had a healthy appetite, and gobbled down the rice, beans, and most of the other items on her tray. She didn't use the plastic fork or spoon that were on the tray - just ate with her fingers. That meant that she was probably uneducated and from some remote third world country. She had no problem using the bucket that was provided for her needs, whether anyone was in sight or not. Another indication of a primitive upbringing.

The next morning, she willingly allowed me to attach a leash around her neck and she was brought to the shower by the girls and scrubbed all over. I didn't know if she knew what a toothbrush was for, but it didn't matter since Cupcake did the task for her, as well as she could. After that, she was put on the examination table, with everything spread and open. There she was waxed all over till she was smooth as an egg below the neck. Later when the stubble started to return, I would have the girls start electrolysis on her. I was walking around with a swinging hardon the entire time, which was very apparent since, like everyone else, I never wore clothes in the cave unless I was arriving or leaving.

I knew that, given the circumstances of her life, that there was almost no chance of her being a virgin and in fact, had probably not been once since before puberty. The fact was of no matter to me at all. I agreed with my favorite author who wrote : "Virginity is a correctable problem of no importance."

After a second shower, she was fitted with a permanent collar, and wrist and ankle bracelets. I put both Pancake and Cupcake in hard restraints, gagged and blindfolded and then led Chocolate to my bed where I loosely bound her hands over her head to the headboard. Moving slowly, I lay down beside her then gently began to explore her body. I closely examined her brands, but still could make no sense of them. Her knockers were not grotesquely massive, but were large, and on her body with the narrow waist and proper proportions, they looked huge. I was going to have to fashion or buy some kind of boulder holder or they were going to sag badly in a few years. She was very pliant, spreading her legs when my hand went between them. Apparently, just kind treatment was something that she had never had and was responding to it. My finger soon proved the lack of virginity. I gently rolled her over and spread her again and inspected her cute little brown ass dimple. With a little spit on my finger, I tested it and found it to be very close to virginal, if not totally. She would have to be expanded some before it would be comfortable to have her shit packed. Her nipples were large and prominent, and were a pleasure to pinch and pull. Her boobs where very high and firm, even laying on her back. I revised my estimate of her age downward. Possibly to sixteen or seventeen.

Finally, the pressures became overwhelming. I lubed myself, bent her legs to raise her knees off the mattress, then lay between her long brown legs and slowly fed my shaft into her channel. Not long later, I was back to laying beside her, spent, and casually squeezing and fondling her body.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

The next client happened to be another Mrs. L. She was not hard core, but definitely liked her restraints to be uncomfortable and her pain to be considerable. She was also one of the thirty or so percent who wanted sex with her ordeal. This time as usual, she signed up for two days. I assumed that meant that her husband was usually away to somewhere for that length of time - something in politics. From her talk of him, I assumed that he could stay away for six months for all she cared.

The session was normal until that night. I had finished for the day, she had been put to bed, and I was sitting in my office surfing, when a motion sensor alarm went off. A few years back, I had installed them in various places around the grounds, along with cameras as an adjunct to my passion for security. On occasion, one went off when an animal wandered through the area, but other than that they were never activated for any real reason. I no longer considered them of much use, and in fact, the only controls were in my office, so they were useless if I was gone or in the dungeon. I looked at the red light on the control board, then saw it go off. I went back to my surfing, then another one triggered. And then another. If it was an animal, then it was fairly large and was moving around rapidly. The last thing I wanted to do on my way to the cave, was run into a bear in the dark, so I activated the cameras and started scanning from one to the other. In a few seconds, I was in red alert mode. In the inflared view, I could see a person slinking down the outside of the first wing of rooms - the one that I never used. He - or she - was trying the doors and since none of them were locked, and in fact, a couple of rooms didn't even have a door, he could look inside with no problem. Then he went around the end and out of view.

I was wondering what to do, because I needed to do it immediately. Since I had a client chained on the premises, I didn't want to call 911 and have the sheriff and deputies crawling all over the place. But I couldn't just let this guy have free reign to search. If was just a burglar, and found my client, he might think that her confinement was for real, then hell would come to lunch for sure. On the other hand, why would a burglar be snooping around an abandoned hotel at night, anyway? This place was a long way from anywhere - he had to have come in a car.

By now, I had a shotgun on the premises, mainly for varmints, and in a few seconds I had it in my hands and loaded. I still had a dilemma - the law was still going to show up, no matter what I did. Whether I held the guy at gunpoint or shot him full of holes. I realized that this was something that I should have planned for and practiced long before now. This kind of on-the-job-training could turn into a mess in short order. I saw him reappear on another camera, and he started at the far end of the active wing of the hotel, moving toward my office. That was it - I had to do something...

I had an idea of which way he probably going to proceed, so I slipped out the back door, around the front of the hotel, then halfway down the far side of the wing. At that point was a walkway that probably used to contain coke and ice machines. I moved up to the corner, and barely peeked around. I could see him coming down the wing, looking in each room as he came. I had no military experience or anything even close to weapons training and tactics, other than what came with computer games, and my heart was pounding so hard I was afraid that he could here it. I watched and waited. Finally as he checked the last room at that end, I stepped out, leveled a flashlight and the gun, and said "Freeze!" At least I didn't blurt out some asininity like, "Make my day," or "Feeling lucky, punk?"

He apparently wasn't a hardened criminal since he just about collapsed in shock and fear and threw his hands in the air like they were chained to the ceiling. "Ppp....Please don't shoot, mister. I'm not doing anything."

"Sit down!" I demanded. I figured if he was on the ground, there was no way he could jump me before I pulled the trigger. He immediately complied. "What the fuck are you trying to steal?" I wiggled the barrel. "Keep your hands high."

"Nothing, Mister. Honest. I was just looking." He looked to be maybe in his late teens, but in the flashlight beam, that was no certainty.

"Looking for what?", I demanded again.

He hesitated, started to say something, then apparently thought better off it. "How about I just shoot you now and throw your carcass off the cliff back there?" Where the hell did that come from? Too many DVDs at night, I guessed.

He shook his head violently. "Please. I was trying to find a girl... a woman." He hesitated, again. "I followed her up here this morning."

With a sinking feeling, I wiggled the barrel again. "Go on. Searching for whom."

"Susan Larson. She said she comes up here for... for... some kind of sex... training." Holy fuck. This was going bad by the second.

I made an instant decision. I knew I had to sound like I meant what I said. In fact, I really needed to mean what I was about to say. I slowly moved behind him. "Ok, listen very carefully. This is a 12 gauge shotgun. If I pull the trigger I will have to spend hours cleaning up the mess. I want you to stand up, very slowly. Go ahead, do it." He did. "Now walk slowly forward." We progressed down the line of rooms until we came to a furnished one, number 5. I told him to open the door, reach in and turn on the light.

This was a bedroom, not a B&D chamber, just like the one that Mrs. L (what the heck, Susan) was in right now. Before he could look around and see what it was, I said "Move to the back wall and kneel down on the floor, hands on your head." He did that also. I poked the gun in his back, making sure that I didn't have a finger on the trigger, reached over for the slave collar laying on the bed, then quickly snapped it around his neck. It was attached to the wall ring with about 6 feet of chain. Then I backed up to the door and sighed. At least the situation was under my control, now.

"Ok," I said. "Sit on the bed and spill it. What you are doing here and what is going on."

He reached up to the collar and in some surprise felt of it as he got to his feet and sat down on the mattress. "What is this?" he asked.

"Just something to stabilize the situation. Now talk." I waved the shotgun again. "How do you know Susan?"

"I...I... " he stammered. "She and I... sometimes meet and... have sex." I waited. "She told me that she goes somewhere and gets tied up and trained."

"Keep going. What does she have you do to her."

"Well, sometimes I tie her to a bed, and fuck her. Sometimes she has me tie a rag around her head and mouth." Shit! Playing out two-bit bondage scenes with a pimply faced kid. So much for assuming that an Ivy League education automatically makes you intelligent.

"Did she tell you how to get here," I asked.

"No. I followed her when she left her home, this morning." Right, he had already said that. So at least he couldn't have told anyone where he was going.

"Give me your wallet, phone and car keys. NOW!" I demanded when he hesitated. He did. I immediately turned the phone off, then asked. "Where did you leave your car?"

"In a little trail, down the hill." I thought I knew where. Just a path though the woods that hunters sometimes used.

I left, shut the door, and started down the driveway, thinking furiously. At the gate, I manually opened it and started walking down the road. Several scenarios were drawn up and discarded by the time I found his car. None seemed to have promise. I drove his car back to the hotel and locked it in a garage. Then just sat there thinking.

That dumb bitch! Fucking a teenage cock and telling him about her bondage sessions! She might as well have sent a notice to the society pages. Hell, there is no pressure on earth like that of a horny boy to brag about the older woman he's shagging!

Back in my office, I sat at my desk trying to put together a plan that would hold water. I looked in his wallet. His name was John Hafner. No indication of what he did for a living. His address apparently was an apartment. The Internet didn't find any information on him, except for his phone number and the address.

In my mind, I clicked off the situational facts one by one.

One. Susan, Mrs. L., didn't know that she had been followed.

Two. Nobody would know where the kid went.

Three. Susan's session was over tomorrow evening - not enough time to do much of anything, no matter what the plan.

Four. I had to do something about Susan, asap, before she wreaked the entire setup.

By morning, I had no sleep, but did have a plan that might or might not work.

At dawn, I walked quickly to the cave, rousted Pancake and Cupcake out of bed, and told them to fix me three breakfasts, pronto. While that was being prepared, I went over my plans again and again. Back on the mountain top, I woke Susan and gave her breakfast. Then I walked to room 5. The kid was laying back asleep, but woke instantly when I shut the door. I walked over and unlatched the collar from around his neck.

"Sorry, kid." I said. "I thought you were either a burglar or a blackmailer. But you check out ok." I handed him his wallet and other stuff. "Come on to my office. We'll have breakfast and talk."

We sat down, and I pointed to the huge plate of bacon, eggs, toast and piles of other stuff that Pancake had cooked. "Dig in." I helped myself to a healthy portion, even though I had no interest in food at the moment. "Where to you live? What do you do for a living?"

Apparently relieved that he was not on his way to jail, he had scooped a teenage portion of food onto his plate. "Just a single bedroom apartment. I do work for Smitters plumbing... whenever's there's work." he added. Great, a minimum wage slave. As he ate I pumped him for information.

Finally, "How long has Susan been... seeing you?"

He thought for a moment, "Oh, 'bout since winter." I was helping fix something in her bathroom. When old man Smitters had to leave to to buy a part or something, she... " He looked up and wondered how far to go.

"Go ahead, " encouraged. "Fucking is a normal thing around her, and a lot of other stuff."

"Well," he continued. She took me to a back room, had me tie her hands to the bedposts, and fuck her." More swallowing. "We have been meeting at various motels about every, oh, two or three weeks."

"And she told you about this place?"

"Well, not exactly," he answered. "She said that she was enrolled in a real bondage school where they taught women how to be slaves. I didn't really believe her, but when she said that she was coming up here yesterday, I waited for her across from the compound she lives in, and followed." More food. "I saw her turn in here, but the gate closed after her and I parked down the road and climbed the back of the hill." God almighty damn. If it had been the other side of the hill, he would have been close to the cave entrance. I made note to put up some fencing. He went on. "I was afraid to come up during the day, so I waited till night. I wanted to see if it was a real bondage school."

I sat back in thought. That was close, at least in principle, to what I was expecting. That stupid cunt was just trying to get exposed and me with her.

I leaned forward again. "Well, she was correct. This IS a real bondage school and she is a student right now." Now the bait. "If you would like, I will show you how we train women here." His eyes lit up, like I knew would happen on any horny male teen. Now to set the hook. "You can ever participate if you want. You would probably like to stick your dick in her again, right? He left his mouth open, as his mind replayed what I had just said. This place didn't LOOK like heaven, but he was about convinced that he had entered the pearly gates.

As he finished up, I told him to wait and went to get Susan prepared. She was squatting on the floor, in the proper position. I manacled her hands behind her back, then put a half hood over her head, with ear pads and a ball gag. Then went back to my office.

He was waiting, and on an erotic edge, obviously. Or else he was carrying a roll of quarters in his front pocket. "A couple of things before we start." He nodded. "First, this place is a total secret. You can mention it to absolutely no one. Understand?" He nodded vigorously. "That is important. These are the wives of very rich and powerful men. If any of this got out and involved any of them in a scandal, their wrath would be terrible. They would probably have you committed as a sex offender, if you lived." He gulped, but nodded again. "Total secrecy." I said again.

"Susan has a set of pads over her ears and is blindfolded, so as long as we speak softly, she can't hear. She can't know that you followed her - she might tell her husband. Ok?" Hah. Fat chance of that.

"Yes, Sir," he answered.

We entered Susan's sleeping quarters, where the sight of her - naked, blind, deaf, dumb and manacled, absolutely overwhelmed the young man. His eyes were saucers, his breathing was almost to the hyperventilation state, and his roll of quarters turned into half dollars. We towed her next door into the bondage chamber where I put her on the sawhorse rack, then began to remove my clothes. I motioned to John to take his off. After some hesitation, he did. Nice pecker, bigger than mine, a little, and ready to go.

I handed him an eye mask. "Put this on. I have to take some pictures and I don't want your face in it. I put on one also, although I didn't plan to have myself in the view. I set the video camera on a stool facing Susan at an angle to get her face and all of her, including anyone who was pounding her rear end. I dropped a towel over it, making sure the lens wasn't covered, but rumpled it up so that the camera underneath wasn't obvious. Since the cable ran to a laptop on the shelf, it could go for hours without danger of running out of storage.

I handed John the crop. Quietly, I said. "Let's get her ass warmed up a little, " and pointed. He stood there with the whip in his hand in disbelief that this was happening to him. I moved my hand in a whipping motion, and pointed again to her butt. He moved to the side, took a deep breath and whacked her with a swat. Not hard, but it was feelable. We heard a "uhhhhh" around the gag. "Harder," I said. This time he whacked her good and got an "UUUHHHHHH" and muscle spasms as she tried to react to the pain. I held up four fingers, then sat back and watched. Now the sound was higher and was a continual shriek from the gag. His nuts were about to blow - I could see a drop of cum almost dripping from the little hole in his cock. If he shot it out prematurely, that was no problem. At his age, and with the intense stimulation, he could probably get off four or five times today.

After the strokes, I had him sit down and try to cool off for a moment, then went over and unbuckled her gag. She immediately responded with pleas for the Master to stop. That the slave would be good and would do anything... and so on. In Johns ear, I said. "You need to get some of the pressure relieved. Stick it in her mouth and let her suck you off." In seconds he was offering it to her. When she felt it touch her face, she knew exactly what was expected. It only took about thirty seconds of sucking, before he filled her mouth full. She choked as she attempted to hold it in, knowing from past experience that if one drop was spilled, she would feel the whip again. She finally got it down, and automatically started to clean him up. Then I sat him down again before his knees totally buckled.

Meanwhile, the pressures on my cohones were reaching criticality also. Especially since I hadn't had any last night. I scooped some ass cream from the jar on the shelf, lubed my rod and her dimple, then proceeded to ream her asshole. After I blew out the wad, I also was sitting on the bed, there only being one chair in the room.

I let him play with her for a while, after giving warning not to move the half hood to allow her to see, and also not to speak. As I left, he was massaging her dangling titties. I called my doctor's office and arranged for a certain appointment later in the week. Shortly, I was back in the room where my young apprentice was letting his fingers do the walking up and down and in her pussy. I needed a video shot with her face in the picture, so I warned John not to step in front of her, pulled her hood off, and tied her ponytail back with cord so that her face was pointed up at a forty five degree angle. There was no way she could see behind her. I moved out of video range and her eyeshot and motioned for him to feed his cock to her pussy from behind, also signaling quiet with my finger to my lips. He willingly grabbed hold of both hips, inserted his dong and pounded away. When he unloaded into her, I had him move back out of range, untied her hair, and put the hood back on. With the gag.

For the rest of the day, except for her rest period, I let him fuck and feel however he wanted. She was put in various positions and suffered various restraints and punishments. Finally, as the evening came on, I released her, she cleaned up and left. As her car coasted down the driveway, I called John from my bedroom where he was waiting.

"Well, what did you think?"

He was still having trouble believing his luck. "God Mr. Davis," - another phony name - "I didn't even know that stuff like this happened." He sat down at my gesture.

"I am thinking of a permanent position for you on the mountain top. Are you interested?" Hah. Would an altar boy be interested in being the gate keeper in Heaven?

"Shit yes. I mean... Yes, Sir." He nodded till I thought his neck would cramp.

"Ok, great. Heres the deal. Remember, total secrecy. And I mean total! Got it? I would hate to see you in jail for ten years or so and then stuck with a sex offender tag for the rest of your life."

Yes, Sir. Not a word."

You will need to get a vasectomy. I already have one - they don't hurt and can be reversed someday if you want. But we can't be getting any woman pregnant - and, we don't use condoms here." I handed him a slip of paper. "Here is the doctor's office - the appointment is on Thursday and it is paid for."

"There isn't another client scheduled until next Saturday morning. So I will see you back here either that morning at dawn or the night before. Ok." As he got up, I flipped him a wad of cash. "By the way, here's an advance on your wages." His eyes widened at the view of more money than he made in three months.

I unlocked the garage and watched him drive down the driveway and onto the road.

Then I walked into my office and collapsed in my chair. Thirty six hours or more without sleep on top of a fricking unbelievable day and night, was catching up with me. After a few minutes, I headed for the Dungeon and didn't even bother to pinch Chocolate as I lay down and collapsed.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I had decided to leave Chocolate on a short neck chain at my bed - about eight feet in length - unless she was having to do something elsewhere. She could stand up and move a little, but would be always ready for me. I made sure that she had a bucket available for bodily functions. That next morning I was more than ready to bury myself in some part of her. However I stayed with her pussy since I wanted to stretch her a bit before pumping her rear hole. After I was done, I just continued to lay on her for a while, then she actually said something in a language that I totally didn't recognize.

While waiting for breakfast, I twiddled her clit - just casually rubbing it for a while, then got more serious, then finally tried to bring her off. She enjoyed it apparently, as her nipples grew hard and she got a sheen of sweat on her body, but I could never push her over the edge. At least, she was responding to the physical contact.

I had a busy day ahead, in fact a busy week. Mrs L., aka Susan, would probably schedule again in three months or so and I had to be ready for her by then. I got in the car and headed to a visit of my bookie - the man who knew where all the bodies were buried, and of everybody who would exchange any kind of work for cash.

When I got back, I began to view the video session that we had made, selecting certain frames for saving.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Dropping some hints about retiring with some other clients had convinced me that they were not going to give up their sessions lightly. I was going to have to make a whole new business plan. After weeks of thought, I finally reached the conclusion that if they wanted submission, then that was what they were going to get. I inspected the problem from all sides then decided that I would cross the Rubicon as soon as I got ready.

I began to make a major change in the access to the mountaintop. Emphasizing secrecy and the dangers of too many automobiles arriving at my establishment, I began to have the girls park at a long term lot in their own city - usually the airport - and picked them up in a car with the wrong license plates. The plates were valid and belonged on a car like mine, but a car that was not in my name and in fact, was stored in an old anonymous building somewhere. That was to fix the problem of video cameras possibly capturing my presence somewhere I didn't want to be seen. Like leaving the same lot that my client's car was parked in. I never speeded and the only danger was being randomly stopped and the plates being found to be wrong. But that was what high paid attorneys were for as I would have claimed ignorance and would have said that all I could do is put on the plates that the state sent me. If they sent the wrong ones, then talk to them. It was a very low level danger.

I began to dismantle all but two rooms - a sleeping chamber and one next to it that held B&D furniture. The hotel was an old 1950's structure, made of cinderblock and single story. It was built as two wings of ordinary motel rooms like hundreds of others that I had seen beside the highways all over America. I hadn't refurbished the entire hotel, just a few rooms of one wing, and not at all from the outside. The external appearance of even the finished rooms, still looked like an abandoned structure - on purpose. Except for the two rooms that I was keeping, I began to remove all fixtures, rings on the walls and ceilings, and generally trying to put them back to looking like the dusty dirt filled cubicles that I had found years ago. Originally, the landscape around the hotel had been cut back to allow for a view in all directions, and the edifice could be seen from miles away, especially if the lights were on. But at least forty years of neglect had huge trees and brush growing in place of landscaping and as a result, the hotel couldn't even be glimpsed until the top of the driveway was reached.

Pancake was still first girl, even though Chocolate was my favorite bedwarmer and was usually the girl that I slept with unless it was her time of the month. Then one of the others filled in. I had Pancake train her to the restraints, but much more carefully than an American woman would be. I was sure that Chocolate would have absolutely no concept of the erotic pleasures of B&D. To her, being chained up was just something that a master did to keep her in one place. Pain fell into the same non-erotic category also. There was nothing fun about it - it was punishment, plain and simple, and was something to be avoided. So when I wanted any B&D pleasures, I had to turn to my original girls. Tormenting Chocolate, would be like beating a small puppy - neither would have any understanding of what was going on and why.

Any bondage of Chocolate only gave pleasure to myself, not her. Nonetheless, she was trained to be obedient, instantly and totally. She began to pick up the rudiments of English, but not anywhere near enough to tell us where she was from. I finally got her to orgasm by using a normal woman's dildo vibrator, which absolutely fascinated her. She would have carried it with her all day, if I had let her. And in fact, at night would beg for the "bibrater."

However, Chocolate was not immune to the discipline of the cave. One night when she demanded the vibrator and was refused, she rolled over on her side away from me in the mistaken idea that she could withhold her services. She discovered her error quickly, as I yanked her over to the whipping posts by her hair, strung her up, and had Pancake stripe her a dozen times with the strap. She made no more refusals again, after that.

Chocolate was wonderful on a cold winter evening when the wind and snow were howling up the mountainside. The inside of the cave was alway the same temperature, about 75 degrees, year around, but nevertheless, the human body still has a perception of chilliness when entering a room after being outside in the cold. Curling up under the covers, inside of long legs next to big warm boobs was heaven itself.

By now, all the girls were wearing some kind of halter for their tits. I had no interest in a bunch of third world looking titties sagging down to their navels. Especially Cupcake's, whose were large and Chocolates's whose were huge. Pancake was old enough that hers were drooping considerably, but I saw no reason to hasten the decent.

In the outside world, I lost another client to a husband who discovered the pleasures of B&D. So I was slowly whittling down my client list.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Naturally, my new teenage partner showed up early Friday night. He wasn't taking a chance on missing anything. I had some sandwiches in the 'fridge, just in case he showed up that night. Like all young men, he was all gonads and very little thought process. He was so focused on tail, that he never even questioned where the food was coming from. I gave him a choice of drinks, and he selected a beer, which I opened and served in a glass for him. We sat in my office and talked - or I should say, he asked question after question - all about the B&D routines. Eventually, he started losing his focus, then began to slur words, and finally just sat back staring at nothing. When night fell, I steered him slowly down to the cave.

The girls were told that he was coming, so they were ready. He immediately went onto the examination table, and was waxed from the neck down, just as if he was a cunt. After that, I opened a box that I had ordered the day after he left here the first time, and pulled out a male chastity belt. This wasn't a sex shop toy, but a custom made device of stainless steel, totally unescapable. Three sets of internal gears allowed for slack to be given or taken out about an inch, and could be exactly snugged to fit. The straps were a woven stainless steel, a flexible band around the waist, with a strap descending to a penis and ball cage, made of stainless steel rods. This cage allowed his equipment to be seen, and had room for an erection, but totally prevented any access of anything larger than a pencil. From the bottom, another woven V belt went under and up the back to attach to the waist belt. The lock was in the back, and when unlocked allow the whole unit to be removed by dropping it down like a set of underwear.

It left his asshole available for any use, but I had never had an experience with a male. It wasn't that I was repelled by the idea, just that I found women much more desirable. The lock was supposedly unpickable. The warning with the package warned against the loss of the keys. It was several thousand dollars worth of equipment.

I noticed that his balls were still slightly swollen from the operation.

Afterward, a collar and ankle and wrist bracelets were permanently attached, just as were on the girls, and he was placed in a cage, which I locked and kept the key.

Half of the latest security problem was solved.

The Mountaintop and parts east.

Time passes...

In the next two months, the operation of the hotel went normally. A client or two each week, wanting anywhere from just light confinement, to whippings and tight restraints. Mrs. T. wanted to be hanged again, only this time after two days of severe punishment. What the heck. The customer is always right, is my motto.


Mrs L., aka Susan, scheduled again. Only after two months. Her husband was so busy in politics that I guess she assumed that nothing she did would attract his attention. I wondered what she was thinking about the disappearance of her teenage toy. The second half of my plan was set into motion. As soon as she arrived, I just set her on the bed, left a plate full of sandwiches and a large gallon bottle of water beside it, locked the door and left. I am sure she was wondering what was going on, but I was too busy to worry about her. I drove to her home city, then parked down the street from the building where her husband's office was situated. I had weeks ago identified his car, and his parking space. I got out, dressed in a business suit, and headed for his building. Unfortunately, just as I was passing his automobile, I dropped the sheaf of papers that I was carrying. I had to get down on my hand an knees to retrieve them, but soon did, then continued down the street, around the block and back to my car. I looked down the street to where is auto was still parked, now with a magnetic GPS sender attached under the rear bumper, started up and drove to a hotel a few blocks away. In my room, I plugged my laptop into their network, brought up my tracker program, then relaxed back on the bed and watched TV.

It was late that night when his car started moving. I checked out, then drove to an all night Internet cafe and watched him drive home. As he was about there, I got in my car and drove to a 24 hour supermarket, and parked. Then I called his cell phone. The number was private, but had paid my bookie to find out what it was. He might have had a whitelist access set up where only phone numbers in his address would allow the phone to ring, but that was no problem. My phone was spoofing the number of his chief of staff, also supplied to me by my bookie.

"Hey, Burt, he answered.

"I'm not Burt Harris, Mr. Larson. I am a friend that is trying to prevent you from losing the election." He was running for Mayor, and had a good chance of getting it.

"What the hell. How did you get Burt's phone?"

I had to keep him from hanging up. "This is about your wife, who isn't at your house right now. Before you answer, let me state that I am not a blackmailer. I don't want money or anything from you. I am a businessman who wants that current green movement, tax and spend, paper hanging son-of-a-bitch out of office. You have the best chance of beating him. Are you interested?" His answer would determine which of two paths I would take.

"Go ahead," he said coldly.

"Ok. In short, your wife is in a sex club, playing games with a teenager every few days - mostly when you are out of town. Or very busy, like this month. I could care less about that, but if it hits the papers you are dead meat, as far as the election goes."

"Bullshit. My wife is attending an alumni conference in..."

"Bullshit yourself," I retorted. "Your wife at this moment is chained to a bed waiting to be fucked. Now if you don't believe me, you are going to lose the election. If you hang up, you are going to lose the election. If you don't do something about your wife, you are going to lose the election. Now, do I have your attention?"

"Go on."

"When this call is over, go out to your car, under the back bumper is a magnetic device. It is a GPS tracker. All it was for is to tell me when you were home so we could talk in private. But also attached to it is a small USB drive with some pictures and a movie. Proof of what I am saying. Just plug it into to your computer and click on the pictures."

I continued. "Go get it. I will call you back from a different phone in fifteen minutes. If you are not interested, don't answer and I will forget that I called you. You can call the police if you want, but I am using a GO phone that can't be traced back to me. Besides, if the authorities get in on this, it gets all over the media and you not only lose the election, but are not going to like the pictures that the Internet is going to be full of. Remember, I'm on your side." I then hung up.

Time passed. About fifteen minutes worth.

He answered. This time he didn't try to play the tough guy. I started. "Ok, I assume that you have looked at some of the pictures." "Yes," he said quietly. "Now, first, let me assure you that the young man in the pictures will not be appearing with your wife in pictures anymore. I have had him taken care of. I did not keep a copy of them and I don't think any more exist. When you destroy yours, they will be gone. Your wife needs to disappear until after the election - do you agree?

"What do you mean, disappear?" he asked.

"I mean, leave the country, say for a trip to Europe for some reason. Make up whatever you want. I know that there is nothing left in your marriage of any value. The only reason you are staying together is because of your political career and her society climbing. Your marriage has been over for years, effectively. I am offering you a chance to move on without her. After the election, you can file for divorce - she won't contest it."

"What are you saying. That you will have her killed? I'm not going..." I interrupted him.

"Certainly not. That would just cause an investigation that might bring who-knows-what to light. But she can't stay here. The other members of the club will not let her stop her activities - they will blackmail HER, not you. And I can't have all of them disposed of. For one thing, I don't know who all of the club members are."

He hesitated. "I have to think about this..." Another interruption.

"NO! This is the last contact you will have with me. If you say no, then I drop out and you can fix the problem yourself. If you say yes, then you can get on about winning the election and knowing that she will be too busy and too far away to play sex games. After the election, you can do what you want. Which is it?" I waited. I knew that he would have to pull himself together for at least a few seconds. If I had him pegged correctly, then his desire for political gain would override any other consideration.

Finally, in a low voice he said. "Ok, yes. Do what you have to."

"Very well, Mr. Larson. Put together a story about her going overseas last week. I suggest that she drove to Mexico and got on a plane from there. Maybe a friend whom she wanted to take along is on the US no fly list, or something like that, so they had to take an out of country flight. You have been so busy lately, that you can't remember the details. Make it simple and believable. Her car is at the airport, section H16, Lot 5. Write that down and have someone go get it."

"Good luck, Mr. Larson."

I broke both phones in half, and when I crossed the river, threw them over the side of the bridge.

In a couple of days, I found a local news item on the Web. It appeared that the candidate's wife had gone to Mexico city to consult a specialist, then to Europe to a private clinic because of a rare skin disease.

It was very late when I got back. Susan still sat in her room, chained by the neck all day, undoubtedly wondering what the hell was going on. Well, it didn't matter what she thought now. I would take care of her tomorrow. I went to the cave, snuggled up next to Chocolate, and was immediately asleep.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

The next morning, I took breakfast to Susan. Since I also had the whip in my hand, she didn't blurt out the questions that she wanted to demand answers to. All I said, was "Eat." and left.

I relaxed in the dungeon all day. By now my new unnamed male slave had gotten over his utter surprise in waking up in a cage, rather than as the new employee of a sex hotel. Pancake taught him very quickly that he spoke only when spoken to. He stayed in his cage all the time, eating, pissing and pooping, except that he was brought out every morning after breakfast and fastened to the examination rack. Two girls used their electrolysis units on him for several hours a day, and he was gradually losing his hair from his feet to his eyes. Every few weeks at the first, he was waxed again. On occasion, I removed the chastity belt so his public hair could be worked on, making sure that one of the girls didn't decide to take advantage of the situation.

Had he not had the chastity belt on I had no doubt that the girls would have fought each other for access to his rod. As it was, they enjoyed tormenting him by swinging their titties over him and against him "accidentally" as they removed his hair. Or bending over his legs or pubic area during their electrolysis with their rear end toward his face with their entire crack showing everything. As a result, he was continually in a state of massive hardon frustration. This morning was no different.

I had never played sexual games with a male. It just wasn't anything that I had ever even thought about or looked to do. But now I had one for experimentation. After the girls were finished for the morning, I had Cupcake strap a gag on him. Then began to examine his body, stretched out as for a gynecological examination, legs wide and up, knees bent. The difference from a doctor's office, was that his arms were fastened above his head. Of course, I couldn't touch his genitals, but I ran my fingers up and down his torso, legs and arms. He was not a large boy, about 5 feet 8 inches, and somewhere around 130 pounds. No fat, which made him in the minority for these days. Unless he had had a wet dream or just had just gone off from sheer pressure, I knew that he hadn't come for days or weeks. I decided to see what it would take. Dipping my finger in some lube, I stuck it in his tight little asshole, and stirred it around. As soon as I touched his prostate, he jumped as if he had been electrocuted. I told Cupcake to bend over him and let her titties sway back and forth with her nipples dragging his chest. As I massaged, he just groaned, with his fists clinching and unclenching and his feet straining as his toes pointed away from his body. In no time at all, he went over the top and shuddered in a massive orgasm as he blew a load all over his stomach. I told them to put him back in his cage.

That evening, I went back to the hotel to visit Susan. Unknown to her, she was in for a rough evening. Or course she jumped up and squatted the instant that I came in the door. With the whip in full view, I told her to stand up. I then laced her arms into a single glove, added a ball gag, removed the collar from her neck and replaced it with a leash. Then I towed her down the wing to another room. There I sat her down on a mat and locked her ankle bracelets together. As she began to look around, she saw a stool with a noose hanging from the ceiling. A moment of disbelief, then she began to try to scream through the gag. I left her and shut the door.

I did some paperwork and surfing in my office, then an hour later went to look in on her. She had calmed down somewhat, but was still mewing though her gag. When she saw me, she shook her head violently and began to try to shout again. I picked her up from behind, and moved toward the stool under the noose. She absolutely panicked. She was thrashing her entire body, and was kicking out with her bound legs. As I got to the stool, she kicked it over. This wasn't going to work.

The noose had a different setup from before, this time going though a pulley in the ceiling to a clamp on the wall. I loosened the clamp, dropped the noose to where I could put it around her neck, then began to draw it back toward the ceiling. This time she had to follow it, or choke. When I had her on tiptoes, I set the stool back, and with one arm lifted her and with the other pulled the slack out of the rope. I reached down and unlocked the fastener holding her ankles together. Then I stood back and looked.

She was standing fully erect, with the noose snug, but not tight. Her feet were standing flat on the top of the stool and of course, her arms were still in the single glove. She was now just moaning as she looked at me from her perch. I sat down in a chair in front of her and waited for her to run down a bit. Of course, she was drooling around the gag. She was a beautiful sight, standing there with her titties bobbing up and down and back and forth with her struggles. As her knees were together, her pussy was just a crack, from the bottom of her Venus mound to where it disappeared between her thighs. Like most women, she had a small dimple at the very top where it started.

In a few minutes, I swatted her stomach lightly with the crop. "Be quiet." I ordered. She calmed down and waited with expanded eyes. "Thats better, " I said and sat back down in the chair.

"I have a message from your husband, the honorable Mr. Larson." Now she got very quiet, and her jaw would have dropped open if it hadn't already been spread by the gag. "He knows about your little meetings with your young boy-toy. And..." I continued, "about your predilection for bondage sports." Now she not only deathly quiet, she was becoming goggle eyed. "And, besides totally violating my rules about keeping this enterprise secret, you have done just about everything you could to expose it." Now she was shaking her head and trying to say "OOOOOO" around the gag. I paused for a minute.

"Anyway," I continued, "I talked with Mr. Larson last night and he has decided that you are a surplus and unneeded item for his political career." Another pause. "He and I agreed that you should drop out of the picture. I believe the word we used, was 'disappear.'" I went outside for a minute then returned with a tall barstool. "So, we both agreed that your disappearance would solve both his and my problems."

Again I left, then return with a large glass object. It took her a second or so to finally determine that it was a huge hourglass. Not as large as the one in the OZ movie, but still over a foot tall. It was an item I had picked up on one of my trips around the state. And, it was a real hourglass - that is, it held an hour's worth of sand. I made a production of flipping it over and setting it on the barstool.

"Watch this," I said. "When the sand run out, yours does also." I left a very terrified woman standing and watching a thin trickle of sand measure her lifespan.

The Mountain top

In the two months that since I had picked up my male slave, I finally noticed an undercurrent of... something... every time when I came back to the dungeon after being away for the day. Something was going on and I didn't know what. The fix for that problem was a hidden camera connected to a computer that would record all day while I was gone. It took exactly one day to find out what was going on.

Every morning, the boy would be removed from his cage, and brought to the examination table to continue his depilation routine. The girls would first have him back up to the bars, and Pancake would lock his wrists together. I had warned them to never let him out of his cage without his wrists being locked behind his back. He was not that large, but he was still male and they were female. Despite the fact that women's libbers hated to admit, the average man was stronger than the average woman. Besides, most boys learned early how to fight and most girls almost never did. They would not remove the lock between his wrists until he was on the table and his ankles were spread wide and fastened. When the session was over, the reverse procedure was used. First his wrists were freed, he was sat up and they were re-secured behind his back, then his ankles released.

After he arrived, I had made a change in the entrance. The original disguised door was there, but inside was a steel wall about six feet down the tunnel. This had an electronic lock with a keypad. Six feet even further down the tunnel was still another steel wall with a high security key lock in the door. Unlike most secure areas, these locked doors were made to be secure from exiting the area, rather than entering. To get out, I had to have the key to the first door, then key in the code to the second door, then exit the outside door.

My reasoning was that, instead of having just women, all of whom where almost totally ignorant of things and tools mechanical, I now had a young man who knew how to use tools - in fact, he had been a plumbers helper. Given time, he could probably break out of the ordinary outside door. This scheme would at least slow him down.

Nevertheless, anytime I was gone for more than a day, everyone in the cave had attachment chains leading to the huge eyebolt in the back cave wall. And he was always locked in his cage during those times and I kept the key.

When I viewed the video that night, I saw that the girls took the opportunity of a bound and spread helpless male, and, one at a time, to sit on his face and let him lick them to orgasm. As I sat back from the computer, I thought over what I had just seen. At that age I would probably have thought I was in heaven if I had been allowed to eat three delicious cunts, but I wondered what he thought of the exercises. I mused that it was probably a good thing that he had the chastity belt on, otherwise he might be down to 85 pounds by now.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Almost an hour had gone by, and my pulse was racing, just like it had done the last two times that I had performed this act with Mrs T. I peeked around the door and saw that the sand had not quite run out. Susan was trying to say something over and over through her gag. I waited out of view and watched the hourglass. Finally, the last grain dropped through the narrow opening. I entered the room and immediately noticed that Susan had already, in the last hour sometime, lost control of her bladder. There was piss all over the floor under the stool. She wailed and screamed through the gag as I walked up and pulled the stool out from under her.

The sounds from her mouth were choked off but her dance on air immediately began. Her legs swung widely, desperately trying to find something to stand on to relieve the choking pressure on her windpipe. Then she lost control of her bowels, and the shit poured out of her, splashing on the stool and floor. Shortly, her struggles began to slow down, and finally she hung there just swinging to and fro. I sat and watched as her pendulum swings slowed to a stop. What a waste. This was a passionate and desirable woman. If her husband had only bothered to lift his head out of his political and business interests and just looked with seeing eyes, he could now not only be a successful man, but at night he could be going home to paradisiacal delights.

The critical ninety seconds was not yet up, but I pulled the release latch on the clamp and lowered her to the floor. I removed the gag and made sure that she had started to breath. Then, I threw her over my shoulder, and walked out into the night toward the cave.

Entering, I handed her over to Pancake, and told her to get her cleaned up. As they did that, Susan slowly came to her senses, but Pancake whacked her when she started to ask questions. After that she just obediently followed instructions. When I had ordered the chastity belt for my boy, I had also ordered several for women. These were in various sizes and I really don't know why I did. Just the thought that they might come in handy some day. I selected one that should fit on Susan, took it over and waited for her to be dried off. Then she was stood up and I had her step into it, pulled it up to her waist, made a couple of adjustments, then closed the lock. Unlike the one that I had bought for Mrs A, this one could be taken off. I examined her from all sides, tried to finger her around the belt, failed, and then told Pancake to throw her in the cage with her ex-boy-toy.

Chapter 3 (added: 12/19/2010)

The Mountaintop

I watched Peaches - who used to be known as by the name of Susan - cycle through the entire gamut of emotions, as she thought about what she had just been through. The relief that she found herself still alive was followed by disbelief that she was now in a cage with the young man that she had been playing tie up games with. Then wondering about the metal around her waist and up between her legs. Before putting her in the cage with the boy, I had his chastity belt removed, but had his wrists on individual chains leading up to the front of his collar. He had a free pecker now but couldn't reach it to give himself relief. Since Peaches had a chastity belt on, her pussy was out of bounds, but her asshole was open and free. I was interested in how long it would take them to realize that.

I sat across the cave in my lounger and watched. Since he was almost in a permanent state of erection from all the activities of the girls, and his lack of relief for days, he was almost instantly interested in Peaches's presence. He moved over to her and said something, then reached for a tittie. She slapped his hands away and moved to the corner of the cage. I got up, motioned to Pancake and handed her a crop, then walked toward the cage. As I got closer, he saw me coming and immediately squatted in the position that he had been trained to do. Peaches was still in a state of denial, apparently, since she just sat crouched in the corner of the cage. Pancake walked to the other side of the cage, then laid the crop on her back through the bars. Peaches screamed and turned around in shock to look at Pancake.

"What the hell does the cunt think it's doing?" Pancake shouted. "The Master is here. Get in position!"

Peaches immediately scrambled to her feet and squatted beside the boy, facing me. I looked at them both for a moment. With her knees widely spread, Peaches's crack was wide open under her swinging boobs. His were open too, with his sac hanging down but his tool pointing up and at the ready. I walked back in front of Peaches. "Listen up, bitch. You are the junior slave around here. In fact, you are so junior that you almost don't exist. If anyone - anyone at all - wants to pinch, pull, slap, poke or finger anything on your body, you will not object. In fact, you will help, if needed. Understand, bitch?" A pause. Pancake gave her a light swat with the crop and got her started.

"Yes, Master." she wailed. "This girl understands."

I nodded to Pancake, then went back to my lounger.

It took a few minutes for them to move, making sure that I was not standing nearby. The boy immediately sat down beside Peaches and began to gently feel of her body. She just lay back against the bars and gently cried. Then he just leaned back with her and held her in his arms.

Well, I'll be damned, I thought. I would never have expected a young horny kid to have any significant amount of empathy.

I was now up to five slaves - four females and a male. If, or more probably, when I got another I was going to have to make arrangements to unload a couple. For right now, I was just going to relax and have fun training the new ones that I had. The first item, the day after Peaches arrived, was to strap both of them over a rack and flush them out. Then a strap harness was strapped to their belts, and an anal trainer inserted in both. Then, as a thought came to me, I had Chocolate restrained and fitted her with a harness and trainer also. So far I hadn't used her poop chute because her asshole was tightly virginal. She didn't like it, and wailed in her own language till I had Pancake put a ball gag on her. Chocolate then had her wrists manacled behind her and was then turned loose, but the other two were put back in their cage. Of course, they had to lay down or stand up since they couldn't sit with the trainer in their asses. Eventually, Chocolate quieted down and I had her gag removed.

Later, as I sat at my desk in the area the slaves were never permitted to enter alone, I looked up from my computer and saw that Cupcake was taking advantage of Chocolate's manacled hands. She had the big girl kneeling in front of her and with a hand in her hair, was pushing Chocolate's face into her pussy. That got my nut pressures to rising, but I just watched.

A couple of days later, the three, after being cleaned out again, had the next size trainer inserted. Then again a few days later.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

By now I had purchased several large parcels of land adjoining my property, and now owned over a thousand acres around the mountain, on my side of the road. There was now a six foot chainlink fence enclosing about thirty acres around the hotel, and including the entrance to the cave. This should keep random wanderers away from the hotel area.

One beautiful day in spring came along - warm and clear with a gentle breeze and the scent of flowers. I decided to give my three lovely ladies a real treat. After giving orders to Pancake to make a picnic lunch - although she didn't know that was what it was for - I led them to the entrance of the cave and began to unlock the doors. They were first stunned, then overjoyed at the idea of going outside. As they exited the cave and stepped around the screening scrubbery , they all stopped and looked around, awed at the immense vista of the valley below. The hotel wasn't visible from here, but I had stopped worrying much if they knew it was nearby. The girls were bubbling over with excitement.

I told them to get into the waiting four wheeler, and we were off down the mountainside trail to the creek far below. They were still naked and wearing their collars and wrist and ankle bracelets, but I calculated that the the chances of encountering a wandering hunter or hiker were very low, and wasn't fatal even if one did come by. Besides, we were still well inside of the boundaries of my land. At the banks of the clear, rocky bottomed creek, I told them to go swimming. Pancake and Cupcake immediately jumped in with a whoop. Chocolate walked down to the creek's edge and gradually walked out into the water. I assumed that the reason for the caution was that she probably couldn't swim. I jumped in also.

After an hour or so, the chill began to set in and one by one they climbed out and sat on a rock to dry. I told Pancake to lay out the thick blanket under the trees and serve lunch. Time almost stopped for me. A day that was just about as perfect as nature can provide, a beautiful view of the unspoiled rural countryside, and three naked vixens laying around in various poses. Finally, I decided that just viewing was not enough, laid Chocolate on the now cleared blanket, knelt between her raised knees and proceed to bury my rod in her honeypot. The other two girls moved up and began to add their own stimulation, one of them rimming my asshole and prostate alternately with her tongue and fingers and the other moving from place to place fingering my balls or rubbing her tits on my back or offering her various parts for use of my tongue.

It could have actually been one of the two places my safe words were named after - Shangri-La or Xanadu.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Mrs D. scheduled for another one day session. She was the woman who liked to piss on herself. Unknown to her, the session would be extended indefinitely. When she showed up, I escorted her to the only remaining bondage room, laid her on the hammock bed made especially for her fantasy, chained her down and left for the night.

The next morning, I made everyone pee into a bucket. Then I went up to check on Mrs D, whose name I had decided would be Pudding. Just like always, she was laying there in her puddle waiting for me to release her so she could furiously masturbate. I lifted up her head, and held it for a few seconds. As soon as she opened her mouth to ask what I was doing, I whipped out a solid ball gag, jammed it between her teeth and wrapped the velcro straps behind her head.

Utter surprise came over her face. She had never had or requested a gag before. She was even more surprised when I picked up the still warm bucket of pee, and emptied it over her body, then whipped out my wang and pissed in the middle of her chest. She started to shout something around her gag, but unfortunately I couldn't understand a word she was saying. I left her there still trying to shout, laying in six inches of piss, and went to breakfast.

After breakfast, I unfastened her wrists, then with her struggling, locked them behind her back. Then I undid her ankles, dragged her over to the sawhorse rack, bent her over it and fastened her down still wet from all the liquid. By now she knew something was badly wrong.

She had never done anything beyond her all night sessions of being spread on a bed. I had no idea if she was ever into fucking, anal, girls, boys, or whatever, When I strapped on a fairly small butt plug trainer she squealed and squalled as it went in. I assume that she was surprised, but wasn't certain since she was still wearing the ball gag. I left it in for two hours.

When I returned, she was still wiggling. I unstrapped the plug, and slowly pulled. It took some effort at first, then then it almost flew out. She must have been really straining. I sat down on a stool in front of the sawhorse rack, and held up a whip. Not the little trainer this time - this was the big punishment strap. "I'm going to take your gag out for a while and feed you. But you must not speak at any time, understand?" I don't think she did, since she continued to try to protest under the gag. I unbuckled the gag, and let her spit it out, then backed up beside her and waited. The wait was only milliseconds.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? YOU AREN'T SUPPOS...!" WHACK. The stroke was square across her lower back as hard as I could swing. That brought an immediate series of screams at the top of her lungs. In a minute or so they ran down, and she tried again, "YOU CAN't...!" Another WHACK just as hard. And another series of screams.

"For a college educated cunt, you seem to be fairly stupid. What part of don't speak didn't you understand?" I sat down in front of her and fed her a taken apart sandwich. First I wadded a half slice of bread into her mouth. "Eat!" When she swallowed that, it was followed by a piece of lunch meat. Then more bread, over and over till she had eaten the whole thing. Then I held a glass with a straw to her lips and said, "Drink!" She got about half down, and I said, "All of it." Soon it was gone. Before she could decide whether to try to protest again, I pushed the gag back in. Just to show her that I was serious, I moved her arm bracelets two more links up the chain attaching them to the back of her collar. I could see her shoulder and arm muscles strain against the unnatural position.

Next, I inserted the enema bladder and started filling her up. Again, this apparently didn't coincide with her expectations as she tried to make clear around the gag. After the third filling was expelled, I knew that she was going to be empty for several days, especially since she wasn't going to be overfed. I then inserted and strapped on a medium anal plug and left her wiggling and trying to shout around the gag.

That evening I reduced the strain on her arms, removed the gag with the warning again, not to speak, then fed her another small meal - part of a hot dog this time. She could see, through the window in the door, that it was nightfall, long after she should have been released. But with the whip laying across my knees, she didn't risk another word. She had been tied in that position for most of the day and was probably feeling horrible cramps. I examined her limbs to make sure that the circulation was flowing and saw no problems. I wanted to raise the psychological pressure as far as I could, so I started on my final routine for the day. First I strapped a straight metal rod in her mouth which made her hold it open. Not painful, but still fairly wide. I held up a small object in front of her face for her to examine. It was a small transparent balloon about the size of a golf ball, knotted closed and filled with some brown substance.

"Remember when you blew your shit out earlier?" I waited, but she just looked. I put a moderate stroke across her back. With an "EEEEEEEE" through her wide open mouth, she vigorously nodded. "Well," I continued, "In this bladder is some of your shit that I collected." It wasn't - it was chocolate fudge syrup. I then pushed it into her mouth, followed by a small ball gag. I slipped the metal rod sideways to remove it, then finished strapping on the gag. "Be very careful. The bladder is very thin and will break very easily. Then you will have a mouthful of your own shit to eat." Her eyes were showing total disbelief.

"As you might be surmising, your bondage session has been extended." I reached down and grabbed both tits, and began to massage them vigorously. Something else that was different - she had never had me touch her in any sexual way. "But," I continued, " the good part is, since you are apparently not enjoying yourself, there will be no charge for the session."

I moved behind her and removed the medium butt plug. When it was out, her asshole was open and about an inch across. Before it started to close up, I started the next larger size, about the biggest that I calculated that she could take without damage this first day. With lots of lube, I slowly pushed it in up to the flange, then buckled on the harness. Regardless of the fear of the contents of the balloon in her mouth, she squirmed and shouted around the gag as it went in. It had to be really stretching things.

Next, it was time to initiate her into her new life of slavery. l spit-lubed my dong, stepped up behind her and began to insert it into her virginal, to me, pussy. I bent over, grabbed both tits, and began to pump. At this point, her gagged wails hit a new volume. Eventually, I blew my load up her twat, then left her to contemplate her new future as Pudding, the real slave girl.

That night, I took her to the cave, turned her over to Pancake with orders just to cage and feed her.

A secure email went out that night, discussing both Peaches and Pudding.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

It was time for the Bondage Hotel to shut down. I couldn't just quit, so I made plans to do it gradually.

A trip to Mexico got me a contractor who was experienced in hard rock tunneling. I made sure that his small crew got temporary work permits and that nobody was from any area closer than a thousand miles. They started digging a diagonal shaft, about six feet wide and eight feet tall, at the top of the hill, forming the rock into a staircase leading down toward the cave. When they reached the level of the cave floor, they changed to a horizontal passageway. Of course, none of them knew what the tunnel was for or what the destination was. Every night after work, I would use a laser rangefinder to measure the distance they had tunneled, plotting the end of the shaft as it approached the cave.

In the cave, I prepared for the penetration. In the far back of the dungeon, I erected a wooden wall, and on the day of the expected breakthrough, put my harem behind it, chained in place. I warned Pancake to keep everyone quiet until I returned. That morning, they drilled through the remaining rock and I stopped the work. There was a foot square hole connecting the cave with the tunnel that I would later expand into an opening.

Then, I had the contractor build a wooden partition at the start of the stairs, blocking the main tunnel, then fill the top of the hole with loose rock and dirt. When they were done and the ground leveled off, no sign of the tunnel entrance was showing. They were paid off and sent on their way.

Next, I had an architect firm on the mountaintop doing preliminary sketches of what I had planned.

By now, I was a legitimate millionaire, in addition to being an illegitimate multi-millionaire, and had new plans for he mountaintop. I would build my house where the hotel now stood. Not a giant mansion, but an upscale bachelor pad with no expenses spared. It was kind of sad to see my old inheritance bulldozed and loaded into a series of dump trucks, but life moves on.

I informed my few remaining clients of what was happening, and that once the new structure was complete, then the sessions could begin again.

Soon the foundation of the house was poured, with my making sure that it was properly positioned over the hidden shaft. I leased a hotel room in the down the road a piece, so that I would have a legitimate address while waiting for my house to be finished. Of course, I still spent my nights in the dungeon, just visiting the hotel often enough to establish my presence there.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

After the anal training sessions, it was a very short time before the boy discovered the open channel in Peaches butt, and began to make full use of it. In fact, in a week or so it was apparent that he was making too much use of it, as I could tell that his incessant penetrations had made Peaches sore and raw. I didn't need to have a disabled girl here, so the next day, at his end of his morning depilation session, I told Pancake to squeeze the juices out of him like an orange under a steamroller. This was to the girls' liking and they took to it with a vengeance - Chocolate also, as soon as she understood what was going on.

Pancake was senior, so she climbed on top of his stretched out body and proceeded to start squeezing the jism out of his dong with her warm pussy. After her, and an interval of recovery for him, it was Cupcake's turn and she also got her twat filled. Finally, Chocolate straddled him with her big hips, swung her massive titties above his face, and eventually pumped out another load. He was about dry, but I wanted him empty, so after an hour or so of rest, all three girls started in trying to see if the oil patch was really pumped out. With Chocolate straddling his face, Cupcake bouncing up and down with his cock in her anal channel, and Pancake massaging his prostate with her fingers along with sucking his balls, he eventually blew another small gusher.

Exhausted, he was released from the examination rack, then fastened bent over onto the sawhorse rack. This would be my first foray into man on man action, and was interested if I had been missing anything. The girls all gathered around giggling, waiting to watch. I waited till Cupcake filled his rear hole with lube and then slathered on a goodly amount on my rod. I stepped up and Pancake guided me down the path. As I slowly went in, it was obvious that the boy did not consider himself to be bisexual. He gave out a loud stream of "NOOOOOOO! NOOOOO NOOOOO..." as he furiously tried to wiggle his ass out of the line of fire. Shortly, I was inserted up to my balls, then discovered that one of the disadvantages of using a man, is that there are no chest handles to grab. I had to find something else to keep my hands occupied. Finally, after feeling around for a while, I found some warm stuff to hang onto and play with. His tight and warm little channel felt really good, just like a cunt's rear hole, obviously, since assholes are about the same, no matter what the owner is swinging or not swinging up front. Eventually, I gave him a full load all the way up.

After this, with a raw pecker, sore balls and a widened asshole, and now inside of his re-installed chastity belt, he was returned to the cage where he lay down exhausted. Interestingly enough, his cage mate with her sore asshole from his use, and who had been watching the action from her cage, lay down and snuggled up with her titties pressed into his back and with her arms around him.

I had to have some relief badly that night, and decided to try Chocolate from the rear. Because this was her first time, I decided to restrain her fully. She was stretched out on the mattress, face down, with her arms spread and fastened to the headboard, and her legs widely spread and chained to the foot posts. Kneeling behind her, my target was plainly visible in the crack of her big hipped butt, now raised with a couple of pillows. Pancake was standing by, amused, and at a motion from me, liberally anointed the little brown dimple and my cock with ass lube. Then as I moved forward over Chocolate's back, Pancake guided my rod to the proper entry point. Then I slowly pushed it in, as Chocolate squirmed and complained in her own language. Shortly, it buried up to my balls and I just lay down on the big girl and enjoyed the feeling of the tight warm hole - and the sensations of Chocolate writhing and wiggling under me.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

While the act of hiding something that you desperately don't want anybody to find out about is scary enough at the start to prevent a person from taking any chances, like anything else, the need for vigilance becomes less and less as time goes on and nothing happens. This time it was a client asking for a conference. That raised the hackles on my neck. This was Mrs M, aka Madelyn M. A long time client, she liked fairly strict bondage and pain. Her family life was just about the norm for her type - that is to say, it sucked. Another husband who was making money and long since regretted having tied himself down to a woman that he was thoroughly tired of. The request meant that she wanted something far out, like bringing her boyfriend, or thinking she wanted a long term bondage.

She knew that the bondage sessions were in abeyance at the moment, but I had to agree to see her. It was too dangerous not to know what she was planning.

A city

Shit. I knew it. As the van pulled up to the corner that I was standing on, I could clearly see that it contained two people. The back sliding door opened and I climbed in, looked in the front passenger seat at the second individual and discovered that she was one of my clients also. It was Jill, a divorcee and had been coming to the hotel about two years - about a year less than the driver, Madelyn. This was going to be a request for a double session, probably with lesbian overtones, plain as day. We drove for a while, then pulled into an remote parking lot serving the airport. Well, at least she hadn't let her guard down completely. This was a good place for a private talk.

"All right, girls," I started. "Come on back here and spill it." They, climbed through between the seats and both sat in the captain chairs facing me. I would have to look at my records, but it was obvious that Madelyn was a client that had recommended my services to Jill. That would be the only way they could know about each other.

They looked at each other. Then Madelyn started. "You have probably guessed that we would like a double session."

"A long one," Jill added. Gosh, it was getting boring the way I was right all the time.

I kept my face passive. "Keep going."

"Well..." began Madelyn again. "My husband and I are going to separate for a while. Jill and I are supposedly going to tour through Europe for the summer."

"Which gives you the perfect cover for a summer long B&D session in the mountains." I looked both of them over. What they were wearing would feed a thousand people for a month in the city of my friend Ayhan. Rich bitches with empty lives looking for something they will never have at home. "Why a double session?" I knew why, but waited for them to tell me.

They both looked at each other, waiting for the other to start. Finally, Jill said, "We have been... playing with each other. You know... girl stuff... with..." If I didn't get them moving we would be here all night.

"Let me guess. You both have probably been tying each other up, then performing some minor girlie actions with each other but you're too embarrassed to go very far." Both of them were turning slightly red and were having trouble looking at me. Well, that hit dead center, I thought to myself.

"Yes, sir," agreed Madelyn. "We like the idea but we just can't carry it very far. Being forced to would be... well,..."

I sat back and thought for a minute. I leaned forward. "Ok, girls. Here is the deal. The double session, lesbian play, any of that is no problem at all. But I should tell you that every girl has been in a B&D session for longer than a month, has never gone back to her normal life." That was the truth, and the absolute truth. However, I was hoping that they would see it in a different perspective than the actual fact. "If you want to do this, then you have to agree that it will continue until I decide that it should end. In other words, you will be real slaves in a real situation and will have no control over your immediate destiny." Or their future one, for that matter. "Think about it."

Both sets of eyes widened as my statement sunk in. I continued, "The both of you have reached the level where you are tired of playing. You want to experience bondage for real, correct?" They sort of nodded. "If you don't want to do it this way, then you will be condemned to just play out little bondage acts the rest of your sexual lives. This is a way to find out what it is really like."

The girls looked at each other for a long time. Finally, Jill asked, "How would we do it?. And where? The hotel is gone and your house isn't finished."

"Oh, I have more than one place to play with women," I answered. Now I was planning on the fly. I didn't need two prominent women to just suddenly disappear from the same city. There would need to be some fuzziness put in their leaving. "First, you would actually go to Europe. Take a plane to Paris, say. Then take the train to another city, Berlin, maybe. Then a flight back to Vancouver. From there you would drive back across the border and come up here."

Madelyn blinked. "Why all of that?"

"Because I don't want the police investigating the disappearance of you two. It would be highly embarrassing if they were to burst in on you when you are chained to the ceiling with your tits hanging out and your legs spread. We aren't breaking any laws, but they wouldn't understand that until long after every Internet tabloid newspaper had both of your names and pictures on the front page."

I could tell that they wanted to talk. I said, "You two go somewhere and talk it over - and for god's sake, make sure it is a private place. If you do want give it a try, then you can communicate with me the normal way."

"Just one other thing," I closed with, "You will need to plan what to do with your assets if you decide to do what we have been talking about. If you just leave it in the bank, or brokers account, or anything like that, and you decide to not to come back, then that financial institution will confiscate it after a certain time of inactivity. If you want, you can convert it to cash, or bonds and leave it in a hidden customer's safe that I have. Many other women have done that." I didn't particularly want their money - I certainly didn't need it - but I was telling the truth about it being confiscated after being inactive for a while. Why give it away?

They drove me back to downtown and I headed home.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Assuming that Madelyn and Jill were eventually going to join the cave set, my client list was down to a widow and a single married woman, besides Stephanie. I had been tempted for a long time to just snatch Stephanie during one of her sessions. I really enjoyed giving her the business. Given the state of her marriage, there was nothing that she would leave behind of importance. Her husband certainly wouldn't care, even if he noticed that she was gone. But, she was my only real contact to the real world and had far more knowledge than myself about how society really worked, despite my new zillionaire status and grafted-on continental polish.

The widow was Mrs T, my sub who liked to be hanged on occasion. She was descending into sub'ism rapidly and I assumed that one day she would become a full timer, also.

The remaining married client, Mrs S, was into very mild B&D only, usually just acting out a mild kidnapping scene. I didn't expect her to cause problems or increase her depth of bondage.

At this point, I began to interview some new clients, only this time being far more exclusive in whom I accepted. I wanted only widows or divorcees, or, if married, women with no family and a dead marriage.

Eventually, I was going to have to cull the herd in the cave, so to speak. Especially if I got two or three more. Three full time slaves are great, and the single male was just spice, but a half dozen or more was overkill.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

My house was coming along nicely. Of course, I expected nothing different since my architect and contractor were on a spare-no-expenses project. One of the parameters that I had specified was that it had to be completely fireproof, which precluded any major use of wood in the construction.

A couple of months or so later, both Madelyn and Jill met me at another parking lot. They gave me a suitcase containing lots of cash and negotiable instruments. When I opened it, I looked at the contents and said, "Well, it's obvious that you both have made up your mind."

"Yes, Sir," replied Madelyn. "We're leaving for London on Friday. We'll message you when we get to Canada."

With that, I headed back to the cave.

The boy had been in his chastity belt for almost two weeks, in close proximity to a woman who was now without her belt. The lure of her usually open slit, and warm bottomhole, neither of which he could do anything with but finger, was raising the internal semen pressures to the boiling point. I knew that soon, he would blow it off with a wet dream if something wasn't done.

I manacled his hands, removed his belt, then had the girls put him in the hot tub. Within fifteen minutes the 104 degree water had him nice and soft. Then I had the girls restrain him vertically, in a big chain X. He was rutting so bad, that when I began to fondle his balls, his rod immediately sprang into a hard vertical state - despite his dislike of homosexual activity. I knew if one of the girls did that, he would blow immediately. He had a good sac that was holding up a decent pair, and the hot water had him dangling nicely.

I selected a couple of 38 millimeter stainless split shaft collars. These were industrial devices that were used to clamp motor shafts together, among many other things. They were also the exact item that a small and far out segment of fetishism used for play. Some men like the feeling of dangling balls, and cause their ball sacs to stretch by hanging weights on them. It wasn't my thing, because I didn't want any risk to my package of jewels, but I had seen some examples of it on the 'Net. Some guys over years had caused theirs to stretch almost to their knees. Apparently the feeling is delicious if you are into that.

These collars were nothing but a round piece of metal, about two and a half inches across, a half inch thick, and with an inch and a half hole in the middle. The two halves were placed around the upper part of the scrotum, then bolted shut with two allen screws. The hole was small enough to just go around the stretched ball sac, but way too small to allow the nuts to slip through and let the weight fall free. Each collar weighed about 6 ounces, so when I was finished he was being stretched by about three quarters of a pound. These didn't come off unless you had the exact fit allen wrench.

The forums on the 'Net claimed that any orgasm while in these weights was superior because the testicles could not close up to the body, but were held away by the weights. I didn't didn't know why this would be, but was interested to find out.

This time I selected Chocolate to do the honors. She moved up to the stretched out boy, lifted herself up and settled down on his swollen member, then put her arms around him and squashed her full boobs against his chest. I knew this wasn't going to take long, if he could actually come with his balls ballooned out three inches below the normal position. She reached around, stuck a finger up his hole and began to stir. That was all it took. He jerked in a long spasmodic orgasm that went on and on. A disappointed Chocolate climbed down from his deflating rod, dripping a copious amount of liquid from her twat. The boy just hung there mostly by his arms until the girls released him and took him back to his cage.

Obviously a man can shoot off with his nuts held out. And he had had a good orgasm, but I didn't really know if it was because of the weights or just because he had a couple of weeks of pressure buildup. He would wear the weights permanently.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

A couple of weeks later I received an encrypted message saying that my wanna-be lesbians were waiting in a nondescript hotel in Canada. I had already made plans through my bookie for a coyote to pick them up and get them across the border without the procedure of showing their IDs or passports and then to get them back to the local area. The details weren't given to me. I met them in my van, gave a thick envelop to the coyote, then drove to the local airport parking lot - once again, a wonderful place for anonymous meetings.

"How was the trip?" I asked after parking and sitting down in one of the captains chairs in the rear of the van.

"It was great," exclaimed Madelyn. "Did you know there is a sex show in Amsterdam that features all kinds of bondage and discipline stuff? They actually had people tied up and put in all kinds of stocks in public!" Of course I had seen it. I thought it was a totally amateur production - very loose bondage and trivial, almost playful, discipline. Being lightly stroked with a cloth whip while in a set of stocks that can be escaped at any time is not even slightly erotic to me.

"Sure," I said. "Lots of fun, wasn't it?" I reached around and picked up a carry out bag. "Hungry? I stopped and bought some Chinese takeout."

Jill grabbed at the sack. "God, I'm starved. That chauffeur you sent wouldn't stop for anything. All we got to eat was lousy sandwiches in gas stations." I uncorked a bottle of wine and poured each a glass.

Shortly I said, "Go ahead and finish." I moved back to the drivers seat. "We might as well get going. You probably want to get some rest."

Around her mouthful of take-out, Madelyn asked, "Where to? Your house isn't finished, is it?"

Over my shoulder, I replied, "Not yet, but you'll see where we are going when we get there. Just relax." A state that I knew was inevitable just as soon as the GHB in the wine took effect. In about 30 miles or so they were slurring their talk, and shortly thereafter just sat back glassy eyed.

It was dark by the time we got back to the mountaintop. I lead them both, stumbling, down the path to the external entrance to the cave, then inside and turned them over to Pancake with orders to cage them and begin their training the next morning.

The next day, I had an interior designer do a walkthru to give me her idea of furnishing the house, as soon as the finishing touches were in place.

A landscaping crew was beginning to clean out the brush and most of the trees that were blocking the view of the valleys. No grass - I had no interest in keeping up a lawn, with all the attendant mowing, watering and fertilizing. A local gardening contractor was hired to design a natural, low maintenance landscape.

That evening, I entered the dungeon and noticed that both of my new possessions were stretched out taut, standing titty to titty, between the whipping posts. Both were wearing a new set of red stripes on their backs. I walked up beside both and began to explore their bodies. I looked at Pancake, standing beside me with her crop. "Have they been cleaned out?"

"Yes, Master. First thing this morning."

"How about the rules?"

"Yes Master. Your girl has informed them of everything that is expected of them while they are here."

I reached around both with either hand, then stuck my middle finger up each girls asshole. Both were nice and tight. After a little stirring, I asked, "Well, slave girls, is this what you expected your new bondage session to be like?"

Surprisingly, Madelyn said, "No... Master." Jill just shook her head.

"Get used to it," I continued. "This is your new life, from now on. But, don't worry. You wanted some lesbian action - that is what you are going to get." I decided that I might as well enjoy the situation while they were nice and spread. Cupcake was standing by and watching so I motioned for her to lube me up with her mouth. The well trained Pancake knew what was happening, and as I stepped up behind Jill, she guided my rod up into the waiting anal channel. Jill had probably never been screwed in the rear - certainly, anal play was not something that she requested from me before - and the new experience had her moaning and thrashing in the chains, although she knew better than to say anything. Reaching around and grabbing each boob for leverage, I pumped her good until I finally filled her butt with cream.

"Feed and water 'em," I ordered. "Then cage them with a medium hogtie." They would be sore by morning after a night in the unaccustomed position.

And probably wet from pissing on themselves. I wasn't going to bother to rename them, since I didn't expect to keep them for very long.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I received a call confirming that my plumber was on the way. A few hours later, a van with the very unoriginal logo of "Joe's Plumbing" pulled up between the buildings. I expected that Francois would step out, but this time it was a different man, about age thirty or so - well built. He introduced himself as Pierre, an associate of Francois, but I couldn't place his accent. And in his line of business, I suspected that personal inquiries would be highly unwelcome.

I led him to where Peaches and Pudding were chained. They were then force fed a pill, and we retired to my office to await the effects and to finalize the transaction. Shortly thereafter, the truck disappeared down the road.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

By the end of the summer, my house was finished. It was beautiful. Ok, that is my opinion, but it was beautiful anyway. I called my original digging crew back, who sawed a hole in the concrete above the buried staircase, and began to empty and clean the dirt out. Then, with the lights off in the cave and covers over all furniture and equipment, and my harem bound and gagged and hidden in the back, they finished punching through the final foot or so of rock. I now had a hidden, weatherproof access to the dungeon from the house. The new entrance to the dungeon was through the floor of a room hidden behind a bookcase in the library. I furnished this hidden room to look like it was the hiding place of my valuables. It had shelves with jewelry, gold coins, some stacks of money, and other expensive, but useless to me, items. Hopefully, if it was ever found, the intruders would be fooled into thinking that what they saw is all there was. But, under the thick rug was a hydraulically lowered trapdoor leading to the new passageway. This door fit into the pattern of the wooden floor so well that even on hands and knees, you couldn't see the seam where the door actually was. It would take a considerable amount of probing to find it even if a searcher knew it was there. The original entrance to the cave was covered with more rocks - enough to really hide it from any searchers, but not so much that it couldn't be forced open from inside in an emergency. I didn't plan to ever use it again.

The replacement for the hotel was a very large windowless room in the center of the structure, also behind a moveable bookcase, and that was liberally supplied with all the equipment required to dominate any sub.

Once the interior decorator had finished the inside of the house, excepting the two hidden rooms, and the normal furniture was delivered and set up, I began to add the little accessories that would enhance my living experience.

I invited the sheriff to tour my new place, and asked that he keep an eye on it during my extended absences. To underscore my request, I made an eyepopping (for him) donation to his reelection campaign coffers. After that, I was pretty well insulated from local civil problems, like speeding and parking tickets. I could call in with a request or a problem and a deputy was immediate dispatched to service my needs.

While I had Madelyn and Jill in the dungeon, I decided to honor their desires to try a little girl on girl action. I informed Pancake that anytime they were out of their cage, their wrists would be manacled behind them. And that they were available to be used for relief anytime that any of the three girls needed it. During that first month, both got a full measure of pussy eating and ass licking. A day didn't go by that I didn't see either slave with her face pressed between the spread legs of one of my regular girls.

Especially Chocolate. She would sit in a lounger or bean bag chair for hours, with her hands in the hair of her servicer, continually pulling the slave's face harder into her pussy. Rather than having to waste time getting up to piss, Chocolate would just say in her broken English, "Time to drink, beetch," then proceed to empty her bladder into the sucking mouth of her servicer.

Of course, the first time that happened, the demand was received in total disbelief by the slave girl - Jill in this case. Drinking pee was not an action that was even conceivable by either new girl. The result was that she jerked her head back and warm piss streamed down her face and Chocolate's crack onto the floor. Since I had allowed my three girls to inflict minor punishment for infractions, Chocolate jerked Jill's head up by the hair and delivered an open handed slap on the slave girl's face that could almost have been heard outside. Pancake, of course, was charged with seeing that the supposedly minor punishments didn't get out of hand, or turn sadistic, but saw what had just happened and gave Jill some more encouragement with a couple of strokes of the crop on her butt.

My girls were very sad when the two new slaves were suddenly trussed up and removed from the dungeon. Francois had arrived in yet another vehicle, packaged them up, and departed, leaving my dungeon back to the normal population of three females and a male.

The boy, by the way, was swinging his nut metal much lower now. The weight was really taking effect. I removed the collars and replaced them with weights specifically designed for the task that I had ordered from a sex shop overseas. That is to say, they were rounded like a donut for comfort and continual wearing. He now had a single and a double weight, for a total of about eighteen ounces. When he was allowed to fuck a girl, his nuts would swing back and forth, hitting the girl's behind with a definite noticeable smack.

I resumed having sessions with my three remaining clients. Stephanie was the first and was very impressed with the new B&D parlor. Once again, as she was stretched in the rack, and I was striping her rear with a light whip, the temptation to haul her down the secret passageway to a new and permanent life was very strong. But, I still hesitated - she was just too valuable a link to society to waste at this time. After all, it wasn't like I couldn't have her just about anytime or anyway I wanted, or that I didn't have enough slaves already. She kept hinting that she wanted to see my "other" dungeons, such as the one that Melody was being held at. I assumed that she had been trying to find my other locations, that, except for the cave dungeon, didn't exist.

Mrs T, the hanging lady, was also an enthusiastic returnee, although she opted for punishments other than stretching her neck for now. Still, she requested and could take punishments that would have had many grown men babbling for mercy.

My married woman still scheduled for her play sessions of being kidnapped. I had found that she was a traveling sales lady so that explained her sudden and random requests for a session. She could do so with little risk of exposure since she spent most weekdays on the road. I still met clients at random locations and drove them to my house myself.

I had decided to not except married clients again. There were just too many things that could go wrong with that kind of client and I put out the word not to recommend me to any woman who was married.

I accepted a new divorcee, Mrs B. She started light bondage but I had a feeling that she would graduate to heavier stuff fairly quickly. For one thing, after her first all day session, she tried to schedule a week long appointment two days later.

After settling down in my new abode for a few months, I made plans for another business trip to Europe.

Paris and points east...

I enjoyed myself in Paris for a couple of days, then the following morning I was relaxing in the first class carriage of a train that years ago would have been called the Orient Express.

Three days later, from the train station at my destination, I took a cab to my friend Ayhan's mansion. Of course, I had emailed him that I was coming and was expected. I was greeted at the door by himself as a long lost family member, and was soon sitting in his den with a glass of wine.

He lifted a glass in my direction. "My friend, your gifts have been enjoyment beyond measure. I can only hope to return some small portion of my gratitude someday."

"Were they as exotic as you had hoped? " I asked with a smile. "After all, they are no different than millions of other American women."

"Ah, but you are wrong, my friend." He rose from his chair. "The difference between your millions of women and your gifts, is that these are MINE. Come, I will show you."

We climbed the long balustrade to the living quarters, then down a hall to his huge and exquisite bedroom. As we entered, I saw at the foot of his bed, two women sitting on a pallet - Twinkie and Cherry Pie. As they saw us, both immediately got to their hands and knees, facing us with their heads bowed. A word from Ayhan, which they understood but I didn't, both stood up, but still with their eyes on the floor.

I immediately noticed that there had been a major change in my "gifts" from the time that I had sent them - both were far gone in pregnancy. And these were women, although I had forgotten their exact ages, who were way on the wrong side of thirty. Possibly even uphill of forty.

Somewhat taken aback, I said, "My God, Ayhan. "You've been busy." At the sound of my voice, the girl who I had named Twinkie, made a small gasping sound as she recognized my voice, looked up for a fraction of a second, then immediately back at the floor.

Ayhan laughed. Moving over next to Cherry Pie, he reached up and weighed a breast, then moved his hand lower to feel around her huge midriff bulge, then her plump bottom. Her companion got the same treatment, plus a little finger action between her legs. "Have you ever seen more beautiful women?" he asked.

To me, they were a pair of knocked up, middle aged women. And considerably more plump than when I had last seen them. Obviously, my friend was feeding them enough to reach that middle eastern look that was more desirable here. But there was only one answer that I could make to that question. "I have never seen a more beautiful pair, Ayhan. I am glad that my little gifts to you were satisfactory."

After a few more minutes of inspection, in which the two women never looked up, we returned to the den. After another fill up of our glasses, "You have, of course, brought more pictures of your ladies?"

In answer, I pulled a flash drive from my pocket and flipped it onto his desk. With a smile of anticipation, he immediately plugged it in and began to peruse the images. I knew that he would take his time, commenting on every picture of every girl, so I just sat back and relaxed.

Then he suddenly sat up in his chair. "A male? I thought you had no interest in that area." The explanation for the young boy took an hour, including many questions from Ayhan before I was finished.

When I had concluded, he looked at me and said, "That gives me hope that you will like my little gift in return." I looked at him with interest, but all he said was, "It is over at Tarkans. We can visit him later."

I sat up. "That is good, Ayhan. "I need to see Tarkan, myself."

Ayhan looked mildly surprised. "Ah, you wish for another skeenny woman?" he said, jokingly.

"No. I sent more two women to him."

Ayhan stood up with what had to be an exclamation. "Ah. More, what did you call them... Swells? Here? Now?"

I motioned him back into his chair and started on another long explanation of the current circumstances. Once I had finished, we agreed that we would visit the slavery later in the afternoon.

That afternoon, we got in his chauffeured limo and headed for Tarkans. As we got out in front of his door, it suddenly opened. Standing there was one of his bouncers - ole knife face - who gestured for us to come in. Fortunately, he didn't try to smile or make any other civilized gesture of greeting - that would probably sent the average tourist running screaming down the street. I might have followed.

Just inside of the hall stood Tarkan, who immediately crushed me in a middle eastern greeting by grabbing me with both arms and kissing me on both cheeks. His other bouncer stood just down the hall. He waved us past the auction theater, into what I always assumed was the rear of the structure that contained the holding rooms.

It wasn't. We continued much further into the building than I had gone before. Apparently, Tarkan's establishment was huge.

He opened a door and I gestured for me to enter. Inside were several other women, all naked, sitting on pallets. I noticed that these were not the usual type of female that I saw at the last auction - these looked to be of European extraction. They all instantly got onto their hands and knees with their heads bowed and touching the floor. On the end of the row were two of my four slaves - the last two. I smiled and nodded, and we left. Tarkan locked the door behind us and we headed upstairs.

We relaxed in Tarken's garage sale looking office, and enjoyed more of his wine. After Tarkan quaffed his usual outsized glass, he said, through Ayhan, "I have taken the liberty of summoning the thralls you sent last month."

Ayhan looked surprised. "My friend, you sent two others, besides the two today?" I gave a short explanation of the events, which he translated to Tarkan.

Tarkan grinned, and replied, "You can be a very rich man if you can supply girls like these." I just smiled. There was no use in explaining that I was wealthy far beyond his conception of wealth. Far more, even than Ayhan, who was probably one of the richest men in the country. Besides, money to me was just a means to an end. I had no interest in spending my life just piling up more loot that I would never use. I had better things to do and enjoy.

There was a knock on the door, then it opened and two totally naked girls were pushed in - Peaches and Pudding. Like Ayhan's new girls, these kept their eyes on the floor. Tarkan stood up, picked up a small whip, then walked over to the pair. He said a single word - something like "Sermek." They both immediately assumed the classic female display stance with one leg in front with the knee bent, one arm at their sides, and the other held just below their bellies.

"Ara!" he barked - at least as close as I can spell it. They then stood straight, legs spread and hands behind their back. "Kokmek!" They both dropped to their hands and knees, facing us, heads bowed. Tarkan, slowly ran the end of the whip up and down their bare backs, then came around and sat back down in his chair.

"They're coming along nicely, Tarkan," I said. If the two girls recognized my voice, they didn't react to it.

"Yes, Meester Tatum," he said, again through Ayhan. "Do you still want to hold them here? I could have them sold by nightfall. The bidding will be great."

"No," I replied. Just keep training them, along with the two new ones. I may have some more shortly." I thought for a moment. "My main concern is where they will go. If they get loose and back to America, it would be... well, bad for my business."

Tarkan reached over and filled my glass. "Be assured, Meester Tatum, no girl sold through Tarkan's is going to return to her old life."

There was another knock on the door. Acid face, the other bouncer, entered and said something to Tarkan. He nodded.

Another girl was pushed into the room. Young, very nicely breasted, skeeney, as my friends would put it, and she was... My eyes froze, then I realized what I was seeing. The... girl was sporting a dong bigger than mine. A hermaphrodite, or in more modern terms, an intersex person. I looked at Tarkan, then Ayhan. They were laughing quietly.

"She is my present to you, if you want her," said Ayhan. What The Fuck, I thought. When did I ever hint that I wanted a... But curiosity stepped in and I walked up to the girl... boy... whatever. "Go ahead and inspect her."

I could see in her smoldering eyes that this was no timid toy. Plus, the fact that she was wearing close chains on both ankles and wrists meant something. One thing that I had noticed about slavery in this part of the world, was that the chattel were seldom restrained. If this person was confined in this way, then there was a reason.

I stooped down in front of her and inspected her equipment. Like all women in this part of the world, she was not depilated, but in spite of the bush, I couldn't see any testicles. I reached up and lifted her dong higher, at which she spit some curse at me. Her guardian immediately laid into her back with a stroke of his cane. She squealed slightly, but didn't scream like any normal woman would have.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tarkan make a gesture, and the bouncer turned her around, and forced her into a bent over position with her legs spread - at least as far as the chain would allow. From behind, I saw that the girl... boy... - what the heck - I was going to consider her to be a girl from now on. I saw that directly under her penis was a vaginal opening. So this was one of the rarer forms of what the porno industry called a trans. Rather than breasts and a full set of male parts as the vast majority of intersex persons had, this one actually apparently had a working set of both types of sexual genitals - and titties. Like Chocolate, she was brown, with black hair - except for not being plump, she was an ordinary middle eastern woman - if you didn't count all the additional and missing hardware between her legs.

I stood up. Looking at both my friends, I said, "I don't know what to say. She will certainly be a unique addition to my dungeon. Thank you, my friend."

Ayhan wagged his finger at me. "Be aware, my American friend. This person is not tamed. Don't let her get ahold of a knife or your samosas with her hands or mouth until you have broken her."

On the plane back to the US, I mused over my new acquisition. Girls, a boy, and and now, a both. What next, I wondered.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I had only been gone two weeks by the time I got back to the dungeon. But it was a long two weeks with only a single episode with one of Ayhan's female servants. I let Pancake and Chocolate share my bed that night, and they worked over my jet-lagged body with enthusiasm. The next day, I enjoyed Cupcake before breakfast and began to work on the next phase of my plan.

I had Pancake bring the boy over to my desk, arms manacled behind him, and ordered him to just stand beside my chair. He had been without relief the whole two weeks and immediately got an erection as I idly played with his dangling, metal stretched nuts. I suddenly realized that I was in real danger of getting a sperm bath, and called on Cupcake to relieve him of his load with her mouth. After that, I could pull and wiggle and probe without worry as I sat and examined. I noticed that his sac had really stretched under the pull of the weights that he was wearing. As I swung his balls back and forth, I closely watched his face to see if they were sore from the constant pulling. Apparently not, as he just stood there - now contented after his relief session with Cupcake. I wondered how long they would actually stretch over time. I had seen Internet pictures where some men had them almost dangling to their knees.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Two weeks went by, then a dilapidated RV drove into my driveway. Francois delivered a crate that had my present inside.

Inside the cave, the girls were in awe of the new occupant, and I told them that her new name was Coco. I warned Pancake of her untrained and possibly violent status, and gave her a set of instructions on how she was to be treated. When she woke from the drug, she stood up and looked around, not sure of what was happening or what her new status was. I had Pancake give her some food, and all the water she wanted, but told her to do nothing else. To make sure, I locked the cage and kept the key. Tarkan had said that she was from a tribe somewhere east in Bulgaria or Romania and probably spoke some dialect from that region. She might have well have spoken Martian for all the good it did me.

Then a stroke of good luck hit, when I found that Chocolate could make herself understood, somewhat, to the new occupant. By now Chocolate could speak fairly understandable pidgin English, and could follow orders and conversation as long as it was kept very basic. I had her explain to Coco that she was now owned by me, and would have a pleasant life as long as I was obeyed. I had no idea how the topic was received, or even if Chocolate explained it right, but it would soon be put to the test.

Coco needed a shower, badly. I opened the cage, and had Chocolate motion her out. She refused and backed into the far end of the cage. I had been afraid of that, and got ready as I told Pancake and Chocolate to pull her out. As soon as they got within range, she began to fight. I waved them back, stuck my electric prod between the bars into her ribs and pulled the trigger. She screamed and fell back against the back bars. Her eyes were wide open and staring at the prod, which I am very sure that she had no knowledge of. I waved to the girls, but Coco fought them off again, but much more feebly this time. Another jolt of the prod was all it took. After that they pulled her out of the cage, unresisting, but still trying to keep her eyes on the prod.

All three girls scrubbed her down, and started to teach her how to use a toothbrush. Afterward, she was led to the examination table, eyes still warily watching me and the prod that I had in my hand, and was fastened down. While the girls began waxing and beginning the electrolysis procedure, I took the opportunity to examine her in detail. Her titties were large and normal, of course. High on her body, that meant that she couldn't be older than her 'teens. Her penis was also normal, uncircumcised and and of a good size. I wondered if she could ejaculate, and if so, was she fertile? With no testicles I didn't see how she could be, but that would be easy to check, if she ever shot any out. Did she have a prostate? Who knew?

With a thin dildo, well lubed, I slowly began to probe the slit under her dong. If I ignored the nice piece of hanging meat at the top, her female parts looked like a normal pussy on any other girl. It was soon obvious that she wasn't a virgin, if that word had any meaning with her physiology. The dildo slid all the way up without any visible discomfort so it was at least a pseudo vagina. Which brought up another question. Could she get pregnant? Again, this was way out of my knowledge path.

A couple of hours later, freshly waxed and shaved, she was back in the shower, then put back to her cage. I warned the girls that she was to be treated kindly. If there was any teasing, tormenting or the like, all three would be sporting new stripes - lots of bright red ones.

My bedroom was a penthouse by itself on what would be the third floor, if there had been any other rooms up there. It had a glassed, panoramic view of the valley on three sides of the mountain. I had been in very expensive tourist traps with far inferior views. The bed was kingsized, with lots of attachment points for entertainment, although these were now mostly concealed or at least, unobtrusive. The average person probably wouldn't even notice them. Usually, at night a specified girl would be towed down the passageway, hands behind her back, and chain on her collar, to my bedroom where the end of the chain would be locked to some ring by the bed. The chain was long enough to get to the bathroom, but no farther. Usually the girl for the night was just a bedwarmer since I normally had long since exhausted my nuts in the cave during the day.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Fortunately Coco didn't turn out to be psychotic, or anti-social or a violent psychopath. I had no idea what her past was, how she had been treated or what scars she might be carrying internally from society's reaction to her physical characteristics. Coco was accepted by the rest of the harem, still with some fascination about her physical characteristics. I made sure that the girls treated her with kindness and lots of smiles. Chocolate and Cupcake would take her little treats of candy, or cakes or the like. And Coco responded to the kind treatment by returning smiles and words in her own language. Once she got over the uncertainty of her new surroundings, it turned out that she was endowed with a full set of sexual desires, only with her it totally centered on her penis. The use of her pussy, by either me or the boy did nothing for her. But she could bang any of the girls as well as any man.

The first time she fucked a girl - Pancake - I took a sample of her cum and inspected it under a microscope. There was no sign of any sperm, which is the result that I expected. My amateur researches into the subject had already pretty well assured me of the fact, that no testicles = no sperm.

She was introduced to the bondage equipment, gently. I had her strapped over the sawhorse rack, and screwed her for the first time from behind. Her pussy felt just like any other cunt - warm, wet and tight. Given the nice tits hanging down, and the psychological feeling of the situation, I had no trouble shooting a load into her.

In fact, she turned out to be just another horny teenager. I finally had the girls fit her with the male chastity belt to punish her for continually insisting on fucking several times a day. Interestingly, while she didn't like the whip any more than the other girls, except Pancake who got off with it sometimes, it was the electric prod that terrified her. Just my picking it up would cause her to drop to all fours and babble pleas in her own language. I never had to trigger it again after the first day.

I began to notice that the attitude in the cave was beginning to resemble that of a club, where the activities were assumed to be for the benefit of the members, rather than me, the owner. I decide to remind everybody that my satisfaction was the only thing of importance. The next morning, after breakfast, everybody was restrained in different parts of the cave, out of normal hearing of each other. All were wearing gags, except for Coco who wasn't trained for long term gagging yet. Then at night, they were loosely bound, hog tied, in either a cage or a pallet on the floor.

The only sex allowed during this time of restraint was for me. I would walk around after breakfast, inspecting each, doing a little fingering and poking, sometimes squirting a load into one of them. I gave them a choice. They could either accept this bondage punishment for two weeks, or take a dozen hard strokes at the whipping post. All decided to take the bondage except for Pancake, naturally - she loved the threat of the whip, even though she feared the actual punishment itself. I spread her up, picked up the wide punishment strap and whaled her back and bottom as hard as I could swing. Her screams echoed through the cave for the first few strokes, then became a lower volume as her voice began to give out. After letting her hang on the chains for a couple of hours, I roughly used her pussy, then released her.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Mrs. T couldn't think up any more violent B&D exercises than she had already experienced. After all, being hung by the neck until almost dead was just about the limit this side of actual death. Or so I thought. I should have known. On her next session she showed up with a branding iron. This was no toy - it was a genuine iron that spelled out SLAVE in letters about three quarters of an inch tall and the whole word was about three inches long.

"Where in hell did you get this," I demanded.

She just smiled. "You have your secrets - I have mine."

Ok. This was another cusp in the stream of fate. I sat back and thought for a while. I didn't want another slave, except for Stephanie, but I couldn't put a permanent brand on a woman and just send her back out into the world. I could see far too many ways that a deep and sexual mark like that could cause major problems. So, I would give her a choice.

"Mrs T," I started. "This is a serious escalation of B&D that goes beyond my rules about doing no permanent damage." She started to speak, but I held up my hand to stop her. I continued, "Unless you want your status as a slave made permanent."

She didn't seem surprised. "Permanent?" she asked.

"Yes. A few clients have become genuine slave girls to me and others. They decided that they were tired of playing bondage and discipline games and then going back to the real world to the life that they were trying to escape in the first place." That was true - Cupcake and Pancake voluntarily placed themselves into slavery. "If you wish it, you can follow them. Otherwise, we can continue on as we have, but I can't brand you with that. If you got in a wreck, or otherwise got hauled to the emergency room, or even just went to your doctor for a checkup, the questions would be fairly insistent and would probably be asked at the local police station eventually. Not to mention the fact that there is virtually a one hundred percent chance that the news of your brand would get in to the newspapers and onto the Internet. That would probably cause considerable talk in your social circle."

I waited as she assimilated what I was saying. "How would that work?" she asked. "I mean... where would I be..." She was having trouble with visualizing the actual details of what was detailing. I gave her the usual spiel, telling her that she wouldn't actually know where she was going till she got there, and that it was real - if I wanted to sell her to a bordello then I would do so. I had long since realized that a threat like that, rather than being a statement that one would assume would scare a potential sub off, was actually a major turn on. I also walked her through the necessity of converting her possessions into something that could be brought along.

"Just think about it," I said, finishing up. "You don't have to decide today. You don't have to decide this year, or ever, for that matter. We can go on as usual until you come to a decision - or not." With that, we adjourned to the B&D room and commenced a few days of her usual severe treatment.


An email came through from Ayhan telling me that my girls were ready for sale at Tarkans, so I replenished the supplies in the dungeon and hopped a plane for Europe.

My four girls shared a room with several other women in the back of Tarkan's. Their training was coming along nicely, as was their weight. It wasn't my thing, but they were starting to plump up nicely. Of course, some of the added pounds went straight to their tits. Two of them especially were now swinging some nice pairs of hangers. They spoke far more Turkish by now than I did, but of course, most of the learned words had to do with commands. I doubt that they could have asked where the local library was.

When I entered the room, all the women fell to their hand and knees, with their heads bowed. That gave me the opportunity to walk behind them and do a little inspecting of various orifices. I lightly swatted each girl who wasn't mine across the back with the borrowed whip. "You, you, you and you get over and kneel facing the wall. And you also." I was left with my own four crouched on all fours, tits dangling under them.

With the end of the whip, I reached over and gently chucked it under Jill's chin, causing her to lift her head. "How are you feeling, slavegirl?"

"A girl is... ok, Master," she answered in a low voice. "

"A slavegirl can speak frankly," I said. No answer. I tapped her back with the whip. "Speak!" I demanded. "Tell me about how your days go here."

"A girl is worked hard, Master" she began. I waited. "We... the girls get up early and are made to clean floors and... " She paused with a grimace. "...bathrooms and the kitchen before the girls are allowed to eat. If the work isn't done right, the girls are whipped and given no food." She stopped.

I lifted Peaches head with the whip. "Keep going," I demanded. "What training do you get? Are you used for sex?"

Peaches lowered her head and said, "Yes, Master. At any time during the night or day a girl may be fucked by anyone. A girl is taught to obey commands and how to stand and kneel properly." From the look of her back, and the horizontal stripes, this girl may have had problems following orders. She also looked as though she might be pregnant.

I tapped Madelyn. "How are you punished?"

"A girl can be severely whipped, Master," she said. "Or denied food. Or hung by the wrists for hours."

To Pudding, I asked, "What is the punishment you hate worst?" Maybe I would learn something. Very quietly she replied, "To be put in the cesspool, Master."

Say WHAT? "Explain."

She continued. "If a girl is unsatisfactory, the girl may be thrown in the cesspool and the grate locked. It is deep and the girl will have to hang onto the grate above to keep from sinking into the... " she hesitated, "... piss and shit that is flowing in from above. Then the girl may be thrown into a cage for days without being cleaned. And without a... waste bucket. It is very bad, Master."

Holy shit - literally. That would be a novel training aid, but I probably wouldn't install one in my dungeon. I think I would rather just keep a good old American-style buried septic tank.

After some more questions, I decided that they would probably be glad to get out of that place, wherever they went. It definitely didn't sound like a four star vacation spa.

That afternoon, Ayhan and myself were seated in the auction theater waiting for the action to begin. The potential bidders that were filtering in now were far different than the clientele that I had seen at the last and only other action that I had attended. These men were orders of magnitude wealthier than before. From the garb, they were from all over the middle east. And there were far few of them - about seven, not counting their servants and associates.

At the bell of the fourth hour, Tarkan greeted the small crowd in two languages, Turkish and, I assumed, Arabic. Then he turned it over to his barker. The first girl, was brought out, very unhappy at being naked in front of a room full of men, although I assumed that she had been in that state for weeks or months. She didn't let her unhappiness interfere with the commands that the barker's assistant gave her. I suspect that she was told what would happen if she did anything untoward, while the distinguished guests were looking her over. And what would happen would no doubt be unpleasant in the extreme. Maybe the cesspool treatment.

The bidding was spirited, but very low key. Finally, she was sold to a sheik-looking customer in the front row. The next girl was brought out. I suddenly noticed that this girl had an identical bandage on her throat that I had seen on the first one. I turned and asked Ayhan about it.

"Those girls have had their vocal cords removed. Sometimes, it is done..." He stopped for a second at my look of disbelief, then began again. "The women who are brought here from places like the Balkans, or Bangladesh, or other primitive locations, usually have no idea where they are. Even if they wanted to try, they would have no idea of how go back to their homelands. Some don't even know what name their country is known by in the rest of the world."

We looked up as the bidding started on the new girl.

He continued, "An educated woman might not know where she is, but would have no trouble telling someone where she was from. She would also know that any building with a foreign flag out front is probably an embassy. However, if she cannot speak, then she becomes just another stray woman who belongs to some man somewhere. It is done quite often."

Holy shit on a shingle, I thought. For all my pretending to now be a sophisticated continental world traveler, I realized that I was still just a rural country boy way out of his league.

Tarkan came back and sat down beside us. Finally, my four came to the box, one at a time. I was glad to see that their throats were free of any bandages. They were greatly admired, from the frequency of the hand raising for bids. First came Pudding. After some low talk with Tarkan, Ayhan pointed at her purchaser and quietly said, "He is an oil dealer from the Iran."

Jill and Madelyn went to a Sheik from Kuwait. They would be together. Maybe they could continue to practice girlie stuff on each other after all.

Peaches went to a rich Turk from Istanbul who had bought one of the earlier women.

Later, Tarken happily settled up with me for the proceeds. The amount that each woman brought was unbelievable. All four girls brought close to a quarter of a million dollars.

On the plane back, I kept wondering just how extensive was the trafficking in female flesh around the world. I had just seen one bit of it, in one city, in one country. And a fairly civilized country, at that. What was it like in the more primitive parts of the world?

The Mountaintop

When I got back, I already had a puzzling email from Ayhan. In it, he informed me that a very important man wished to have a conference with me at the location of my choice. Of course, Ayhan would not give the man any information without my permission. The message said nothing about what was to be discussed, but that didn't require a great amount of thought. I messaged him back with instructions for a meeting wherever and whenever he wanted. I suggested New York City. I assumed that the location would be a lot easier for a foreigner to find, rather than some remote town in a state he had probably never heard of.

I didn't have any qualms about the request. I trusted Ayhan. Besides, I needed to keep him as a friend in the future instance of my having to haul ass out of my country on a moment's notice. That is also the reason that I kept the balance of my fortune overseas. And had duplicate passports.

Meanwhile, I was enjoying putting Coco through her paces. The girl-boy had a sex drive that made the ordinary teenage male seem like a neuter. She would fuck anything with a hole and could do it several times a day. If I didn't allow her to screw anyone at the moment, she would just as likely go back to her sleeping rack and jack off. She hated the male chastity belt almost as much as the electric prod and it would have her begging for relief inside of one day.

I strapped the boy over the sawhorse rack and had Pancake insert a ball gag. Then I waved to Coco and then just pointed at him. I was wondering if she would be willing to use a male, or if her wants were all for female flesh. I should have known - if I had pointed to a watermelon with a hole she would have started pumping it.

She stepped up behind the boy, wet her large dong, then proceeded to insert it up his bung hole - and not exactly gently. She was fairly large - considerably larger than either the boy or me - and the instant the head began to enter, her target began to thrash and shout around the gag. It was obvious after all these months that he was never going to learn to like the penetration of his bum by a dick. Coco was unconcerned - he could have been shouting death threats or quoting love poetry to her for all she cared. She grabbed hold of his waist with both hands and proceeded to ream his asshole unmercifully. By the time she shot off, the view of her pumping the boy with her large tits bobbing up and down and back and forth got me hard as a rock also. When she backed off and sat down, I stepped up to the now dripping and still open hole and inserted my rod up to my balls. To the sudden amusement of the watching girls, I also grabbed his waist and began to stir his shit till I blew a wad to mix with Coco's.

Coco was being just a little too uppity. She sat there with a self satisfied look on her face as though she had proved something. I told the girls to unstrap the boy, then pointed to Coco and said, "Put her in his place." Shortly, she was bent over and gagged, legs spread, head in the stocks, wrists behind her and attached to a short chain from her collar. I walked around her, reaching down to massage her dangling tits for a while, then motioned to the boy. "Go to it," I invited. "Use any hole you want."

This was too good for him to pass up. With the girls giggling in the background, he walked up behind Coco and stuck one finger in her pussy and another in her asshole and wiggled them around for a while. Then he walked around in front of her, stooped down to look her in the eyes, then lightly squeezed her nipples with both thumbs and index fingers. He looked up at me with a query expression. I nodded and he pinched both hard enough to get a major scream around the gag. With a smile, he moved around to her behind and began to feed his hard dick into her poop chute. Coco had never been used anally or widened and her opening had to stretch considerably to accommodate the boy. Of course, it did, but only to an accompaniment of squalls and squeals from the other end of the hole. I noticed that her usually hard pecker was limp as a wet noodle - she was definitely not finding this to be erotic. But maybe she would show some more consideration next time.

He took his time. The sight of his metal stretched balls swinging back and forth violently and slapping Coco's crack was erotic in itself. Finally, the show was over and I gave Pancake orders to leave her strapped to the rack till bedtime. I would let the boy feed and water her for dinner. And if he wanted to give her something besides water to drink, so be it.

The next morning, while deciding just what I was going to do to which slave today, the driveway alert chimed. Walking over to the monitor on my desk, I could see a car slowing climbing the hillside. I immediately headed down the passageway and up the stairs to intercept whomever would be knocking on my door. Sure enough, I watched a big woman exit her automobile, climb the steps and ring the doorbell.

When I opened the door, she asked, "Mr. Tatum?"

"Yes," I answered.

"My name is Carolyn Standish. One of your clients gave me your address."

WTF and Holy Shit squared, I thought. Some goddamned women has violated every security rule in the book this time. I couldn't believe that any of them would make a screwup like this, after all my warnings. I thought fast and the first item was to find out the entire story of what the hell was going down here.

"Please come in," I offered, stepping back. "I'm following some very important financial news at the moment and I need to be at my computer." She followed me down the hall to my office and took the seat that I indicated. As I sat down, I looked more closely at the woman. She was way overweight, by at least fifty pounds, probably about thirty five years of age. Not grossly flabby, but well on the other side of chubby. She wouldn't be bad looking at all if it weren't for the extra poundage. The tits were very large, but what their size would be if she was of a normal weight I couldn't tell. But she just didn't fit the profile of my usual clientele. I spread my hands and said, "You have me a disadvantage, Ms Standish. Please tell me what you are talking about. What client?"

She smiled. "I understand, Mr. Tatum. "I appreciate that you consider the privacy of your client to be of utmost importance. That is very important to me, also." Meanwhile, under the guise of monitoring something, I had a search daemon started to search on this Ms Standish, with what little data I had - name, car type, license plate, etc. She continued. "Mrs L gave me the information on your services, but it's only now that I have had the nerve to come here."

Mrs. L. Shit! Of course, this woman didn't use the words Mrs L, she used the whole name of my ex-client. It was, of course, Evelyn, aka Cherry Pie - the dumb bitch who almost blew the deal on herself and me, got divorced over it and moved away from the scandal. I wondered what she left behind that was now going to have to be dealt with.

I looked at the woman over steepled hands, glancing at the monitor. Nothing yet - hundreds of Carolyn Standishes but no matches. Something was wrong here. Of course, that didn't have to be her real name. I tried something else, then said, "Continue, please."

"Well, I would like to avail myself of your services. Mrs L said that you had a wonderful regime that she just loved. I can't start today, but next month would be fine. Could you tell me what your fees are?"

By now, my uneasy feeling was developing into a galloping worry. No woman of the financial class that came up here ever gave a damn about what something cost. And if I answered that question, then I was admitting to something that I collected fees for.

"Ms Standish. I am totally confused now. Evelyn and I had an affair a while back, but that was settled with her husband and she moved on." Bingo! Her car was registered to the BG Corporation. Now, what the hell was that? I looked up at the clock. "It's getting late. Would you care to go to dinner where we can discuss this?"

She tried to hide her relief, but I could see that she wanted away from here. Why? "Certainly, Mr. Tatum. May I use your little girl's room for a moment? I walked her out in the hall and pointed.

"Meet me at the front door. I'll step upstairs and put on something a little more decent." In my bedroom, while I was changing out of my dungeon coming and going clothes, i.e. shorts and a polo shirt, I was also on the phone to my bookie, using the phone number for special clients. After requesting some spare no expense info, I went back downstairs and met Mrs Standish. We were soon in my car heading for the city.

An hour later we were seated in an upscale restaurant - at least as upscale as a city at the base of the Ozark mountains can have. This wasn't exactly a midwestern Manhatten. After the waiter delivered our aperitifs, I sat back and began.

"Ms. Standish..." I started. "Please call me Carolyn," she interrupted. "Carolyn, you may think that I have been fencing with you. And I have." I had noticed that she closely examined her wineglass before the waiter poured. I assumed that it must be habit, since nobody on earth knew of my use of certain chemicals in drinks. "Evelyn was a very desirable woman and I like older women." That was totally true. Of course, I also liked women of any age, from puberty to far beyond menopause, so it was only part of the truth. I continued, "She had some different ideas for sex that I am sure she would have never put to her husband. I am sure you know about bondage play."

"Sure. B&D S&M," she acknowledged.

"She loved it and I practiced it on her when ever we met. I had no objection. To me, like most men, sex is sex. But there were no 'fees.'" I took the tiniest drink of wine - I needed all my wits tonight.

"Mr. Tatum. Don't you like the wine? We can get another bottle if that one is unsatisfactory."

I smiled and leaned over in a confidential gesture. "Actually, I only use alcohol as a social prop during conversation." I pointed to my glass. "It acts as a diuretic on me. If I were to drink two glasses of that, we would have to carry on this conversation through the door of the men's room for the next two hours." That was a total lie - probably not the last one I would tell tonight.

I continued, "But as far as the fee you spoke of, this wasn't a monetary transaction as if I were a gigolo or something. She is a very financially well off lady..." Goddamn, I almost said was. "and I have to say that I am exceedingly wealthy. There was no need of payment in either direction." Ok, here goes. "Would you tell me what she told you about our relationship? And what your relationship is with her?"

At that moment our meal came, which was fine with me. It was obvious that she liked alcohol, and I wanted her to have as much as she would drink and for it to have time to work.

She also liked food - of course, anyone looking at her would know that immediately. She spoke between forkfulls, "As far as how we knew each other, we were classmates in college. After that we went our separate ways and only got back together a few years ago." That was total bullshit, I knew, and without any research. Evelyn had gone to an upper crust college for women and showed it. In fact, the Ivy League sheen was so thick that it dripped off of her. This woman, on the other hand, was obviously a product of the public schools. Besides her speech patterns, her manners were totally plebeian. For one thing, she was using her salad fork on her main course, something that Evelyn would have considered heresy.

"She told me, in confidence, of course, about your bondage hotel, and your servicing of rich clients for secretive bondage sessions. That got me excited at the time, and it still does. I finally got up the nerve to come up here and ask for the same thing."

"Hmmmm," I mused. "She really shouldn't have said all that without asking me first. But, I haven't seen her for a while. When did you talk to her last."

Putting down her glass, she replied, "Well, I had lunch with her sometime last year, but I've been really busy and we just haven't connected lately." Gotcha, I thought. Unless you were a guest in Ayhan's bedroom last year, you have just been caught out in another big fat lie. A couple of real liars, us.

I pretended to look around, then said in a low voice, "We really can't set up a session here in public. You need to give me a date when I can meet with you and talk about what you want. There are all kind of B&D sessions, from mild to severe, kinky to far out. I have no idea what kind you want and you may not know either."

"I can call you on the phon..."

"No!" I interrupted. "I do absolutely no business over the telephone. You might as well just take out a newspaper ad for all the security you get over the public airways. In fact, never drive to my establishment again. If you decide on having a bondage session, I will meet you somewhere and drive you to the mountain myself. In fact, when you want to have our first info meeting, I will meet you at a hotel somewhere. The only use of the phone will be to arrange that first meeting. I never bend those rules."

That pretty wrapped up the sex talk of the evening. I refused to discuss it further, except to give her a phone number to call if she wanted to arrange a meeting.

After arriving back on the mountain top, I invited her in for a nightcap, but she wished me goodnight, and left.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Over the next few days, I thought over the events of that evening, but until I got more info there was no use in planning anything. How the hell did she get all her info? Did Evelyn actually tell her? I didn't try to do any further investigating on my own, since I had already contracted for experts to do the digging. By the end of the week, a courier dropped off a thick packet - my bookie, aka my financial advisor and the Big Fixer, if not cheap, was very efficient. And I had never once placed any kind of wager with him.

Before the packet arrived, I didn't have anything but guesses about what Ms Standish's game might be, although I was very sure that she wasn't looking for someone to rope her to a bed and start screwing. But now, the contents of the investigation were very revealing.

She was one half of the BG Corporation - a third rate investigative agency. In movie lingo, she was a private dick, although a long way from the Hollywood version of a hard bitten, whisky drinking introvert with a trench coat and floppy brim hat. She was the Shirley Geoff half of Billings and Geoff, Incorporated. Her partner was much closer to the film reel type - an ex cop, male, let go for excessive drinking and violence in his arrests. They spent most of their time on petty investigations of infidelity for divorce lawyers. Apparently she had been, or still was, an attorney whose practice had not been very lucrative. There was more - much more. Apparently my bookie's hirelings had spread around a considerable amount of my money, because I had just about everything known about her life clear back to the time her tits started growing.

The interesting part was that she had been hired by Evelyn's husband back when she first got into trouble with her "affair" with me. One thing that I couldn't figure out, and there was nothing in my investigation info that would tell me, was that how "Carolyn" had such a detailed knowledge of my operation. I doubted that Evelyn had told her - I certainly couldn't think of a reason why she would have spilled the info.

The only theories that I could formulate at the moment were that... 1. Someone wanted to find out why Evelyn disappeared, or 2. Blackmail. Time would tell, but I began to make my counter plans to handle both possibilities.

At least I knew now that none of my current clients were at fault.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

A bombshell came from Stephanie at her next session on the mountaintop. As it turned out, her husband and she had decided on a "temporary" separation for a few months. That was the handwriting on the wall for her marriage - I didn't have the exact statistics of how many separations ended with the couples getting happily back together, but I knew that it was close to asymptotic zero. She would be a free woman in a year or so. I would have to think about that.

Mrs B was not into pain from an external device, like the whip, but she loved extreme restraints and tight harnesses. She requested a locked waist harness with an unremovable dildo fastened into it. She wanted to wear it when away from the mountaintop and be unable to remove it. I nixed that idea, for several reasons, not the least of which was that I knew that after several days of continual penetration by a wiggling plastic object, her pussy canal would be a mass of excruciating sores. She would have to settle for being continually penetrated in both holes while here.

Another client was accepted. Another divorcee - Mrs N. She was one of the unusual ones who actually wanted sex during her sessions. Other than that, she was fairly ordinary - normal bondage and light to moderate pain.

Three days later, the call from "Carolyn" came through to set up a meeting. I gave her the address of our rendezvous location, and we agreed on a time. I warned her not to divulge the information to anyone else, since I didn't want her compromised. Strictly for show, I neither cared nor was afraid of her telling someone. Hanging up the phone, I drove to town to make reservations and certain other arrangements.

In Town...


She was right on time. I was sitting in the hotel suite, surfing away on my laptop when she entered the room. I acted pleased to see her, which I actually was, and asked her to sit down. She did, but her attitude was not that of a woman planning on entering into a contract of sexual bondage. In fact, it was more like that of an ambulance chasing attorney about to ask for a ridiculous award for a minor injury.

"Did you decide to..." was as far as I got.

"Mr. Tatum," she interrupted. "I didn't come here to play games. This is business."

"Hmmm," I replied. "Maybe I don't want to do business with you. Your attitude doesn't really turn me on."

"Nevertheless, you will hear what I say. Then if you want to leave, it's your choice." I heard the door open behind me, and looked around, already knowing who I would see. Sure enough, her partner stepped into the room, and leaned against the now closed door. He made no threatening action, and didn't even speak, but even so, I knew that the door wasn't going to be opened again until his female partner ok'ed it.

"I have proof that you have been running a gigolo service for wealthy women. When Mrs L had her little affair with you exposed, she was keeping a diary of her... escapades, shall we say. I found it under her mattress when I was looking for... stuff in her bedroom. Fortunately for her, her husband never knew of it's existence. She never actually wrote down directions to your hotel, but from the description she gave many times... well, there aren't so many abandoned hotels on mountaintops that the right one couldn't be found fairly quickly."

She opened her briefcase and pushed some papers over to me. "These are copies of a few pages from her diary. Notice that she describes in detail how appointments are made, how she got to the hotel, the chains, whips, enemas... lots of stuff that would be very interesting to the authorities."

I let her ramble on as I read. Finally she slowed to a stop, somewhat puzzled, I think, at my lack of response. Finally, I decided that since the prosecution had apparently rested, then it was time for my defense.

"Oh, come on Carolyn, " - she still hadn't mentioned her correct name - "...yes, Evelyn and I had quite an affair. And she loved bondage, but so do a lot of women. She told me that her marriage was over and I believed her." No response. "As far as your other ridiculous accusations, the idea that I was running a hotel bordello on the mountaintop is, well, just that - ridiculous. Something like that would probably last about two weeks before the locals noticed what was going on. I have had women up there. Quite a few. It's is a fact that I like women." I needed a drink from my glass of now watered down soda. Then I went on.

"And as far as her diary, what you have is the runaway fantasies of a sex crazed woman." That goddamned Evelyn! Keeping a diary! Shit! She could thank her lucky stars that she was about twelve thousand miles away. If could get hold of her, I would literally nail her to the wall of the dungeon and whip her skin off.

I continued, "I mean look at this - " I pushed a page of the copied diary across the table. "She describes an entire computer network connecting dozens of women with this alleged bondage parlor. They pass encrypted messages and look at a catalog of sexual routines that they then order from home." I put on an expression of incredulous disbelief. "For one thing, it's a matter of record that my house and the hotel before it had and has absolutely no access to the Internet. The only way I have it now is through a satellite service and that is totally inadequate for this sex communications network she describes." I hoped I was sounding sincere.

She leaned forward over the table. "There is also the fact that she has disappeared, totally, along with her money. And the friend who got her started with you has also vanished. In fact, she discussed the fact that she feared that women who caused trouble or got into trouble with you might never go home again."

Again, my look of disdain. "So not only am I running a female sex shop, but I kill my clients and dispose of them at will. Where? In shallow graves all over the mountain? Have you ever tried to dig a six foot hole in an Ozark mountaintop? Dynamite may do it but a shovel won't. And I don't have a license to buy high explosives." I leaned forward close to her face, then backed up a bit when I heard a rustling behind me. No need to get the ersatz Sam Spade excited. Fisticuffs was not my long suite. "Lets cut to the chase here. What do you want?"

"One million dollars." She waited for a second to see if I would explode or something. "For that you get the diary, all of our field notes, including the ones we made in the original adultery investigation and we disappear from the case. A million is nothing to you. An investigation for missing women is." A million wasn't much to me now. But I wasn't such a country rube that I didn't realize that after that million had been spent on booze and gambling, that they wouldn't be back for more.

I looked incredulous. "You want me to give you a million dollars for a woman's fantasies, and some work notes for something that wasn't even a crime?" So far, everything had gone pretty close to what I had assumed would happen, in the case of this turning out to be blackmail, which of course it was. Except that is, for the startling information about that dumb broad and her diary. But my next move was far more uncertain and I was hoping that it wasn't going to wind up with me broken in half by her partner. I was playing to two audiences, so even my words had to be correct. I jumped to my feet. "This is bullshit. From my knowledge of the law, blackmail is a far worse crime than shagging a rich female without her husband's permission." I turned around and began to move rapidly toward her pug ugly bodyguard. "Get out of my way. I've heard enough."

I was on high alert and with a quart of adrenaline pumping through my veins. Nonetheless, I barely got my open hand up before his fist hit it and my face like a ton of bricks. My interposing hand prevented anything in my face from breaking, but I still flew across the room, against the wall and slid down to the floor. There was a deafening explosion that I, even in my stunned state, recognized as a gunshot. I didn't feel it hit me, but I assumed that I would in a short while, maybe, if I was still here to feel it. But, instead of angelic or satanic voices, the next thing I heard was "Mr. Tatum. Are you OK?" As my eyes began to refocus from multiple comets and stars, down to only double vision, I recognized the sheriff kneeling over me. Then I noticed the woman flat on the floor with a deputy's foot planted squarely in her back, and not particularly softly.

I moved my jaw back and forth, and my neck up and down and decided that they both were still connected to my head. That only left the bullet hole and I began to look up and down trying to find it. I suddenly stopped when I noticed the body laying on the floor. A body that had a close resemblance to the male partner of the blackmail team. Then I suddenly realized, with massive relief, that the bullet was received by him.

The sherif helped me to my feet, then back to the chair at the table. "Jeez, Mr Tatum. What were you trying to do? We had the situation under control. In another minute or so they would have been in cuffs."

I shook my head to clear it. Another definite mistake since it tried to fall off, or felt like it was going to. "I don't know. I was so mad I just wasn't thinking." Another lie. I knew exactly what I had tried to do. If both were hauled off to jail on just blackmail charges, even in this conservative state they would have been back on the street with minor bail before nightfall. But, if I could goad the man into some assault and battery, that would be a whole different set of charges. It seemed to be a good idea at the time, but I never planned on gunfire coming into the act. In retrospect, I should have remembered that I was an expert on computers, pussy and whips - not on law enforcement field work.

I looked down at the remains of "Carolyn's" partner. I was about to ask a stupid question, like "Why did you shoot him?" when the sheriff anticipated me.

He pointed to a massive pistol in the corner of the room. "See that? When he knocked you down, he yanked that out from under his jacket and started to point it at you. Maybe he was just going to try to put the fear of god into you, but we couldn't take the chance. When we heard you hit the wall, Bill opened the door, saw the pointed gun, and plugged him."

Sumbitch, I thought. At least my plan of having the sheriff hidden, listening from behind the door to the adjoining suite worked. But next time, I would farm the operation out to professionals. If I wanted to see this kind of stuff again, I would buy a DVD.

A couple of hours later, the formalities of the law were finally over, and I excused myself saying that I was going to check in with my doctor to make sure that nothing was out of place in my head. I also expressed my fulsome gratitude for the work of the local sheriff's department and assured them that I would shortly express it in a far more physical way than just words. Then I got in my car and drove like hell over the state line for the big city and my bookie's place of business. I needed to spend a lot more money, and spend it fast.

In an hour and a half, I was laying out my needs and stressing the need for speed on the first item. Then it was back home to to familiar territory and nursing to my now swelling face.

The Mountaintop

In a few days, a panel truck pulled up to my house with a delivery of several plain boxes. I hauled them to my dungeon office and went through them item by item. These were the contents of the BG Corporation's office. Fortunately, the wheels of law enforcement turn fairly slowly, and my "contractors" got there before them. To my relief, not only did the boxes contain the files about me and Evelyn, but also the incriminating diary. It made interesting reading, but I got the shakes every time I thought of this document showing up in some court.

Shirley, aka Carolyn, was arraigned and given a bond of fifty thousand dollars. There was little chance of her making a bail of that much money since the state required the entire amount, but some unknown soul put up the money and she was released. A week later, the sheriff arrived at my house with the news that she had apparently skipped town.

"That is one stupid bitch, " he commented. "She was looking at a year or so at the most, before. Now the judge is going to throw away the key when she is hauled back in." I pretended to worry if she might be looking to get even. "Nah," he said. "She isn't that type, besides it would do her no good at all if something happened to you. All it would do is get her a cell for life, instead of a few years." He shook his head. "Nope, she will try to disappear in some city far away, but that kind always turns up eventually after a mistake. We know she doesn't have a passport, so she can't leave the country. Or, if she does, she will wind up in a jail a lot worse than mine."

Eventually, the sheriff's department received funds for three brand new, high end, fully equipped patrol cars. The money was given anonymously, but, of course, the source of the funds was known by the members of the small office.

Shirley/Carolyn was never was caught. I could have predicted that, since she had been delivered to my house in the trunk of a car two nights after she posted bail, bound and with a sack tied over her head.

Chapter 4 (added: 01/14/2011)


I had received a message requesting a meeting in New York City, as per the missives that Ayhan and I had exchanged a short while back. Again, there was no reason given, but I was fairly certain that the girls I had sent overseas had something to do with it.

That evening, I entered the Cyan Club, highly unimpressed. At least until I got past the security guard. He was actually called the doorman, but there was no doubt in my mind that if I hadn't identified myself I would have been deposited back on the sidewalk posthaste. Once inside, I was reminded once again to never judge a book by it's cover. Any of the usual words would apply here - fancy, exclusive, opulent, whatever. It was just another reminder that, despite my nouveau riche status, I was still a backwoods country boy under the skin. The difference between me and the other guests, was that they ignored their surroundings as something that was an ordinary and deserved part of their life - fish in water, so to speak. On the other hand, I had to keep my eyes forward and my mouth shut to prevent my goggling like a country rube at a state fair.

I was escorted somewhere upstairs, to a small room, obviously set up for business meetings. A waiter appeared from somewhere to ask for my desires for a drink. I ordered something - I don't remember what. Shortly, the door opened and a younger man, about my age, entered. He didn't look like a sheik, or pasha, or what passed for a rich person in the middle east. In fact, he looked just about like all the rest of the thousands of ambitious young men who crowded Wall Street at lunch or evenings.

He crossed the room and held out his hand. "Mr. Tatum? My name is Jameel bin Al-Fulan." That settled that. Almost perfect English, but definitely not native born American.

Shaking hands, I replied, "I am glad to meet you... er... Mr... "

He smiled. "Please call me Jameel. My actual name would take up too much of the night to recite. I think my ancestors used names to fill up the long nights around the fire in the desert."

"Fine. Please sit down."

He hesitated. "Would you mind if we conducted our business outside, say in the park across the street?" I glanced around the room, then at him with a questioning look. He shook his head. "No, this is a legitimate establishment, but, nonetheless, I have been brought up to always assume that all walls have ears."

"Certainly," I agreed and gestured toward the door.

In the elevator, he turned to me and said, "By the way, your friend has asked me to tell you that the peaches and pudding are still excellent." Jameel obviously had no idea of the reference, but it confirmed to me that he wasn't a joker that had been slipped into the pack. That info had to come from Ayhan. Nobody else would have known, especially since they had had different names from the day they entered Ayhan's... uh... service.

We found an empty bench in the park, and relaxed. I noticed that he also had an eye for the parade of female office workers on the sidewalk in front of us. He turned to me and said, "My Uncle was very impressed with the merchandise that you sold a few months ago. In fact, he has asked me to inquire if you could possibly supply him with two others of the same quality."

Well, that was exactly what I had guessed. The problem was, I had nothing else to sell. I thought for a moment. "Unfortunately, my supply of... that kind of merchandise is nil at the moment. I would expect to have some more in the future, but as to when, I can't say."

We both watched a pair of beauties stroll past. I don't know what he was thinking, but I already had them measured for bracelets - both would take mediums. He continued, "My Uncle is very wealthy. He would meet any price that you chose." He leaned toward me and continued in a low voice. "Of course, as you might expect, my Uncle has no problem getting women. He could have a thousand brought to his compound for his selection just with a phone call. But, not upper class educated American females. Those just can't be grabbed and hauled around the world without the chance of a major scandal should anything go wrong."

He leaned back. "The price is no object. You may set it to anything you want."

I looked at him for a moment, trying to decide how to play this. "Money is not my concern. I have far..." He stopped me with a gesture.

"Please do not be offended, but we know all about your circumstances. Before I came here, you were thoroughly investigated. I know that you are what Americans call a self made millionaire, you are a computing expert, you travel extensively, you have never been seen in a gambling establishment. Also, you are not a... what is the word? ...playboy, you have no desire to flaunt your riches, and apparently, for some reason, you never bring women to your new fine house on the mountaintop."

Hmmmm. So my attention to security was still paying off, unless he actually knew about my clients, but wanted me to think he didn't. I didn't think so, but I was still not going to let down my guard. To paraphrase a saying - what happens on the mountaintop, stays on the mountaintop.

He went on. "We know that money is not a driver with you. But, my Uncle can pay with just about anything else that can be obtained in the world. And you will gain his friendship, which is good coin in certain parts of the world."

I sat back in thought. Jameel patiently waited. Finally, I said. "I will be happy to do business with your Uncle. And a powerful friend is a valuable asset. But, I can make no guarantees at this moment. I will have to see what can be done. Do you live in New York, or..."

He waved his hand. "I come and go, but I am my Uncle's representative for the US. Here is my card."

I looked at it for a second. "I will send you a package that will outline some secure ways of communicating. I don't know if my dossier said anything about security, but I am a fanatic about secrecy. In this day and age, any communication can be listened to, including us right now if someone wants to bad enough."

The Mountaintop

Back from New York, I began to think about the meeting. But first, it was time for some retribution. Several weeks before, I had dollied my new possession into the bondage room and chained her up. Shirley/Carolyn was far too heavy for me to carry. In a few days, Francois and company arrived and off she went.

A few weeks later, she was back, only now sporting a new set of bandages on her throat. Still unconscious from the delivery box, I waited till she woke up, then while still groggy, towed her into the dungeon. Once there, I had the girls strap her to the examination rack and told them to give her the treatment. As they began to set up their electrolysis equipment, Cupcake started to gag the woman, then suddenly screamed and jumped back pointing to the bitch's face. The other three girls had jumped at the scream, confused and not knowing what was the matter or what Cupcake was pointing at. Wide eyed and still pointing, Cupcake shouted, "She doesn't have a tongue!" Now, also wide-eyed and aghast, the other girls looked at the proof of the punishment meted out in certain parts of the world for the crime of blackmail.

Unfortunately, this new bitch was just a run-of-the-mill female - one like could be found by the millions in this country. Totally unsatisfactory as an item for the new order that I had just received. I wasn't totally unhappy about that. I had a score to settle with her and was looking forward to it.

Eventually, my new bitch was smooth, clean inside and out, wearing only a collar and bracelets, and still defiant but obviously quiet. With her vocal cords and tongue removed, she would never bother anyone with her voice again.

After her depilation session, I unhooked her. She began to resist, until I whipped up the electric prod and nailed her with it for several seconds. While she was recovering, the girls each took a limb and hauled her to a stretch rack and spread eagled her on her back. Then I indicated for Chocolate to start cranking the winch till she was stretched as tight as a bow string. I turned to make more preparations when Coco asked, "Masser, kin Coco use?" pointing to the fat bitch's pussy.

I thought for a moment, the said "Sure, go ahead." Coco reached over the rack, pulled the bitch's pussy lips apart and looked for a few seconds, then inserted a finger to test the path.

Through the moderate pain of being stretched, the woman still protested the violation. Or tried to, her mouth made movements but very little came out. Coco smiled then stuck two fingers up her ass, which really got the silent protest going. The Coco climbed on the rack and straddled the ex-detective. Suddenly the attempts to shout stopped. I saw an incredulous look enter her face as she realized that another woman was going to preform some unknown sex act on her. That changed to confusion as she suddenly saw the equipment that Coco was swinging over the bitch's stomach. Then utter disbelief as her mind couldn't make the connection between the heavy swinging tits and the large dong below them. Finally, a look of horror as she realized that she was about to be fucked by a... what? man? woman? She began thrash around - if thrash is the word to use for a body that could barely move a muscle.

I pointed to my mouth, then to the woman and Pancake picked up and inserted a ball gag, which didn't stop any noise since she couldn't make any, but I didn't want the bitch in her panicky state to bite one of Coco's ears off. Cupcake leaned over and gave Coco a sloppy mouth lube, after which the wet dong was slowly inserted up the bitch's pussy. She was still desperately trying to break loose - obviously to no avail and she was going to have a major set of sore muscles on the morrow. Well, normally she would have. I suspected that her attention would be directed elsewhere on her body by morning.

Unless Coco was in a horny rut, she knew how to stretch out a fuck session for maximum pleasure - starting and stopping, going faster and slower, pausing to pinch or pull nipples - her own or the person on bottom. With her, since she had no testicles to gradually recede into the body, there was never any way to tell just how close she was to coming. Finally she blew her load up the stretched out body and collapsed on top of the big girl.

I pointed to the boy. "You want a piece of this?" Of course I knew the answer. He immediately stepped up and told Coco, "Ok, get off. It's my turn." He had nowhere near the finesse of Coco. No matter when or who he was fucking, he just got on and pumped away. This fat and stretched woman was no different and his stretched nuts banged their metal rings into the woman's ass crack while he pounded into her front slit. In a little while, the stretched out pussy received another load. I had Pancake take the gag out.

As the rest of the harem watched and wondered, I ran a heavy extension cord over to the rack, then set a large electric hotplate on the floor and plugged it in. As it heated, I ran two straps around the bitch's right leg - one right under the crack of her pussy, and the other just above the knee. Then wrapping them around a lower horizontal support member of the rack, I pulled them tight. That had the effect of trying to pull her leg to the side of the table, but since it was under strain from the stretching, it only moved sideways a little. But it effectively immobilized it. To check, I pinched her inner thigh hard. She tried to yelp but the leg didn't move.

By now, the hotplate was turning cherry red. I opened a box and pulled out Mrs. T's branding iron. I held it up before the woman's eyes and said, "See this? This is going to mark you as a slave for the rest of your life."

By now she was babbling silently with fear. Fear from the surprise of waking up in a cage, fear of where she was in chains, fear of what had happened already and fear of the unknown future.

I set the iron upended on the hotplate and told the girls to fix some food. Chop chop. They immediately scattered to the kitchen and started preparing. The branding iron had caught them by surprise also - and probably fear of the possibility of it being used on them was in the back of their minds.

In a half hour, I checked the status of the iron. It was glowing cherry red - not hot enough. The iron was slow to heat and slow to cool. To pass the time, I examined the stretched out bitch. Laying on her back, her large flabby titties were sagging into her armpits. The nipples were ordinary, both in size and color. Her pussy was normal, but the outer lips were plumper than on the normal girl. The love channel was far from virginal and would take three fingers easily. I didn't see any stretch marks on her belly, so I doubt that she had ever given birth. Her asshole was wider than I expected. I could easily grab a handful of flab almost everywhere I tried. She obviously loved to eat. Hmmm, that triggered a thought that I would explore later.

Finally, the iron was glowing a nice orange. I noticed that for once, my harem was busy at work in other parts of the dungeon. They obviously wanted to stay away from branding irons as far as possible. I leaned over the ex-dick and said, "Ok, bitch. This is the second installment of punishment for blackmail."

She wanted to scream, but just air came out. I picked up the iron, and moved around to her left side. At this point, she could see the glowing letters and went absolutely berserk. She jerked her limbs as hard as possible and I could see the edges of the bracelets almost cutting into her skin. But her strapped down leg barely jiggled.

I had practiced the day before on a block of wood several times. I knew that I would only get one chance to make a good mark, so I spaced my hands widely on the handle, then slowly lowered it over the target area, which was her inside upper right thigh, about two inches below her pussy crack. When it was about a half inch away from her skin, I suddenly pressed it into her flesh and began to count to five. In about two seconds she fainted. When I reached a five count, I quickly drew it away leaving a deep and clean brand of S L A V E in cursive letters a little less than an inch high. Of course, it was an ugly black from the absolutely fried surface skin, but that would change into pink in a few weeks.

I reached over and turned off the hot plate and waved to Pancake. She came over with a spray can of antiseptic and a large wrap around bandage. I noticed that she was almost a shade of green - obviously, branding was not something that she ever fantasized about. I sprayed the brand with the antiseptic, and gave orders for it to be repeated every eight hours and the bandage to be replaced every day. Also the woman was to be given an antibiotic on a regular schedule for the next week or so.

I waved at the boy and girls, now watching from the far corners of the dungeon, and they reluctantly came over. I released the woman from the rack and had her carried back to her cage. Her wrists were independently chained to her collar in front and short enough to allow her to eat and drink, but not reach the brand. I didn't want her tearing at it in her pain.

In a few minutes she woke up trying to scream and attempting to reach the brand with her chained hands.

The next morning she was in major pain. She refused to eat, but I didn't force it. I did make her fill up with water and gave her a stiff dose of vicodin.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Stephanie's separation was getting to her. She was morose, rather than happily sarcastic, and didn't want the usual play. Finally, she requested that she just be caged for a week, brought out once a day and whipped, then dumped back in the cage in fetters. I am not psychiatrist by a long shot, but it was obvious that she was trying to punish herself for the failure of her marriage.

I couldn't cage her in my bondage room for that week - I needed it for another client. I finally moved a cage and a few items into the utility basement and used it as her cell. She could look out of the bars at the cement walls of the small windowless room. Or at the furnace, and air conditioner and not much else. I had to decide if I wanted to keep her permanently or not.

She was still fun. I setup a routine where she would throw one six sided die every morning. If it came up six, she was strung up to the ceiling and strapped until she was hanging limp. If it showed a one, she was put in absolute restraint for the day - hog tied with single glove, gag, ear muffs and a tightly stretched head mask, along with pussy and ass penetrators. Any other number just let her sit there all day staring at the room.

She would have been a perfect item to fill part of the standing order that I had received, but there was no way that I wanted to give her up.

She stayed almost a month.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

The bitch's brand was still painful, but at least it was now bearable. After some thought, I gave orders that she was to be fed as much as she could hold, and then some at every meal. A fat woman would be fun to play on and a very fat one might be a blast. Besides, when I got tired of her, I would let Tarkan sell her for a scullery maid or cesspool cleaner.

At the end of the month, Stephanie left the mountaintop and virtually disappeared. Months went by without hearing of her. Her divorce went through, but she still didn't contact me.

And, I lost my married client when her husband took a position somewhere else in the country. It wasn't a significant loss for me, except that she was a nice woman, pleasant to talk to and undemanding. I wished her luck on her last visit and assured her of a place if she every rolled back into this part of the world. She would probably be the last married client I would accept.

I spent a couple of weeks overseas, visited Ayhan and Tarkan on my way to my destination - India, which was a place I had never visited. While at Tarkan's, I looked over his merchandise but found nothing that interested me or that I didn't have. He tried to sell me a pair of young girls, but as far as I am concerned, a naked little girl is just a little female with no clothes on. She is of no interest to me at all until she is swinging a mature pair in front. Before leaving, however, I did place an order for something else.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

The bitch's brand finally healed. It stood out in stark letters and was instantly visible and readable from afar. I had built a sleeping platform for her, round and about as large as a queen sized bed and she was chained to its location most of the day. In fact, almost all of the time. She was continually fed all day - and not exactly health food. She had already put on about twenty five pounds and that fact was very apparent. Every part of her was bigger, face, tits, stomach, thighs and legs. Only her hands and feet were about the same. She was already past two hundred pounds. Every morning, one girl or the other would clean her out with the enema nozzle.

I have to admit that I got off with using the whip on my new fat girl. Stretched out on her stomach with four chains at maximum tension, she made a target that couldn't be missed. A whack from my crop would make her attempt to rise - her back would arch and she would pull on her arms and legs, but no sound would issue from her mouth. There was no way for her to express her pain and she just had to lie there and take it.

On occasion, I would have her strapped down on her bed platform, face up, and allow both of my swinging dicks to have free reign with her. They would pound on her pussy or asshole while her body jiggled all over. At first she would silently curse the pair as they fucked her, mouth moving but no sound coming out, but finally she just accepted it and lay there while they pumped. I even enjoyed her on occasion. She was like a big warm flabby bed.

As far as the other girls were concerned, she was of only minor interest. There was little pleasure they could obtain from her, since she had no tongue and without it there wasn't much she could do to another woman. Since I hadn't trained her to obey the strict rules of the normal slave, they were far more interested in the boy and Coco and each other.

Besides my new bitch, everything was going great. I was on top of the world, both literally and figuratively. Since most of my investments had always been in gold related stocks and funds, and with the fact that they had doubled and tripled virtually ever year, I was catapulted from well off, to rich, to that favorite liberal catchphrase, obscenely wealthy. In actual fact, I had long ago passed the amount of money that would serve me for life. All the extra since then was, well, just that - extra. Money was not the driver of my lifestyle - that position was held by enjoyment of life.

I had a dungeon full of willing slaves - well, maybe one or two were less than willing - at my disposal, day or night. My house was the envy of any bachelor - or it would have been, if I were the type to display it. I was in solidly with the local officials, from law enforcement to the local political figures. Unless I was caught in the unlikely act of sticking up a bank, or blowing up a bridge, or something of the like, I was immune to investigation of any official agency.

I decided that my life could be made better.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

One of the tools that I had developed and had been using ever since the original mess with Cherry Pie, was a program that continually scanned the Internet search engines and major news servers for any reference to any woman connected with me. Since a search engine is easily subpoenable, and the queries concerned names that had and might someday disappear, I ran this program on a remote anonymous server overseas. The results were encrypted and sent to me in a roundabout way.

One morning, I got a popup on my computer that my remote program needed to tell me something. After a few seconds of reading, I was calling the airport charter service. Then a call to my bookie. Three hours later I was at twenty thousand feet and headed west. There had been a short stop to pick up a person that my bookie sent to his local airport.

I relaxed with a non-alcoholic drink and reread the news item on my laptop. It wasn't headline stuff, just a short item in the Los Angeles webpaper about a woman who had been stopped for DUI, who then managed to knock down the female arresting officer. In a way, that was fortunate. Had it been a simple case of drunk driving, she would already be out on bail and hard to find. By bitch slapping the cop, she was probably going to spend the night or nights in jail. Of course, it was Stephanie.

Once we arrived, my pseudo-legal assistant that my bookie had provided was dropped off at the courthouse to find out the details of what was going on. In a few hours he had arranged bail and he escorted her from the steps of the jailhouse to my waiting rental limo. My assistant sat up with the the chauffeur as Stephanie joined me in the back seat. I gave orders to just drive around at random.

The first words out of her mouth were "I need a drink."

"That is probably the last thing you need, but..." I reached into the back seat bar and pulled out a bottle of chilled wine, then poured her a small glass full.

Gulp. It went down in one swallow. Shit - she was definitely on a downhill mental slide. "How the hell did you find me?" she asked and reached for the bottle. I stopped her hand before she picked it up.

"Slow down. If you want to get drunk after while, I'll buy you the alcohol, but for now, I can't talk to a bombed woman." I stabbed the cork into the bottle with the flat of my hand. "As to how I found you, well, the world is my playground, shall we say." I doubted that she wanted a lesson on the ins and outs of search engines and data mining programming.

She rolled the stem of the wineglass in her fingers, then looked at me. "You know, you've come a long way from the computer nerd who used to fuck my niece." Who still fucks your niece, I said to myself. And more lightyears away from that kid than you know.

"Never mind me," I said. "What the fuck are you trying to do? You are wealthy, free to do what you want, and nobody to care. So you feel the need to whack a cop?"

"Free to do what?" she retorted. "I've moved from being a respected member of society, a pillar of the community, just to coin a phrase, to just another divorcee with no life." She slapped my hand away from the bottle and yanked the cork out. A glass and one swallow later she continued. "It isn't your fault, but I should never have started playing games with you."

"Bullpucky," I replied with disdain. "Your marriage was in the shitcan long before you knew I even existed. If it hadn't been me, it would have been some other guy in some other circumstance."

She looked off into the distance at the big Hollywood sign on the side of the hill. "Let's go to Vegas. That's supposed to be a good place to get drunk and forget problems. Hell, that is where most actors and actresses go to get stonkered."

"May I remind you that you are out on bail? You can't leave the city without the court's permission. And, by the way, you don't happen to be a famous actress, although if you keep swinging at cops you might become fam..." My voice tailed off as the synapses in my brain, and a news item that I had read on the plane, suddenly came together in a blindingly audacious flash. If I had been a cartoon character, a light bulb would have suddenly appeared above my head. Maybe the big sign on the hillside was the catalyst. I thought for a few seconds as Stephanie looked at me, puzzled at my sudden withdrawal from the conversation. Suddenly, she had moved from being the entire reason for my being here to a minor annoyance that was interfering with my thought processes.

I shook my head. I couldn't continue to develop the thought while driving around a strange city with a depressed woman. I looked at Stephanie and said, "Tell me what you want to do and I will help. I owe you that much and more. Except, " I continued over my pointing finger, "if you intend to turn into a lush, you are on your own."

"Hell, I don't care. Lets go back to the hotel - your hotel... I mean, the mountaintop. You can beat the hell out of me there if you want - as long as I can drink."

I leaned forward, pushed the intercom and gave some orders. We pulled up at a five star hotel and while the checkin process was being completed, I gave a set of orders to my assistant. Three days later, with the assistance of a high priced law firm and a considerable stack of money, we were on a commercial flight back to the midwest. I managed to keep Stephanie from bitch slapping the flight attendant who had decided that my companion had had enough to drink - quite correctly. At our destination airport, I handed my assistant a fat envelope from a hidden compartment in my car and some sincere thanks for a job well done. Shortly, Stephanie and I were in my car and headed for my home.

Once on the hill top, she went straight for the liquor cabinet, and I let her. By evening, she was wasted and finally flopped onto my bed. I still wasn't sure what to do with her, but now that she was a free woman nobody would notice if she didn't show up somewhere, so my options were open. I stripped her clothes off, set her purse in the library for later carrying into the safety of the basement. Shortly, she was in the utility basement and locked into her cage.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Back down the passageway, I selected Chocolate for a quick release of my built up pressures - I wanted to think, not screw, but my nuts had an agenda of their own. After my episode with her, I called the boy over to my desk, and while standing there with his legs spread, examined the stretch of his ballsac. He was down to about five inches now, with a clear space of about two inches between the top of the top weight and the bottom of his pecker. I decided that it was time for one more ring to be added to the top of his stack- a single one this time, on top of the double weight that in turn was on top of another single ring weight. That would give a pull of about twenty four ounces and, according to my reading, just about optimum for stretching. I had the new ring in my desk, and right then added it to the stack.

Once on, I swung his nuts back and forth. He was definitely swinging a hung set for sure. I pointed to my detective bitch, and walked over to her bed platform. Wow, she was really putting on the flab now. Probably seventy pounds bigger than when she came here a short while ago. "Turn over, bitch, and spread 'em." By now, she knew to do what I said immediately. Extra fat gave no protection against the bite of my whip. I pointed to her and the boy willingly climbed aboard.

I was interested in the action of his balls when he orgasmed. Even with all the weight pulling them down and causing them to slap against the bitch's ass, they began to rise as he progressed. Eventually, they had pulled up to the point where the weights were solidly jammed between his ballooned balls and the bottom of his dong. It definitely didn't affect the intensity of his climax as he pumped out a solid stream of cum up her twat. By now from articles on the 'Net, I knew that the liquid mostly came from the prostate, not the testicles. The weights might have an effect on fertility, but not on volume of ejaculate. Of course, his tubes had been cut from the start, so baby making was not even possible for him anyway.

I waved them all away, then just sat back and stared into the distance. I need to develop an outline of the inspiration that I had gotten out west. First I needed a plan - not one that I would put into action. Just one that I could examine and take apart to see if the concept was even viable.

My bookie - actually, it is what I called him only to myself. By now he was far beyond the bookmaking business he started with. As his business grew, and a lot of it was as the result of my money, he gradually became known as the "Big Fixer" to his clientele. Anything that one could want, assuming that you could pay for it, he could get, fix, arrange, or get rid of. His forte was connecting a client with a... well... specialist in the work that you wanted to get accomplished. I believe he stayed at least nominally out of the violence business, if not entirely on the right side of the law. That is to say, I don't believe that among his many associates that he had any hit men. I didn't know and didn't try to find out. I was satisfied that, for money, he could find someone to do or discover almost anything.

Anyway, if my scheme came to fruition, he would be a major mover. Not that I had a scheme yet.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

The next morning, as I took some breakfast down to Stephanie, I found her sitting up, holding onto the bars with both hands and with her head down. She had really tied one on last night. She looked up as I entered, then said, "Oh god, take that away. I don't even want to smell it." Her cage was six feet long, three feet wide and four feet high. In other words, she could stretch out horizontally to sleep, and sit up normally, but not stand. For sleeping, it had a thin mat with a wooden block under one end to make a pillow. A blanket was provided also. There was a flexible plastic tube in reach that lead to a two gallon jug of water sitting on the floor about five feet away. And a waste bucket with a lid. That was all.

There was a two foot wide slit at the bottom of one end that a tray of food could be slid under. I set the tray just at the entrance of the slit - she could pull the tray in later as she got hungry.

"Where are my clothes?", she asked. "Let me out of here. I need a drink."

"Relax," I replied. "The last thing you need right now is more alcohol. We need to talk about your future."

"Goddammit! Just open this fucking cage and let me out! If I need some punk kid to tell me what I am going... AGGGGGGG!!"

I had reached though the bars with both hands, grabbed a handful of boob with each - not gently, then pulled both of them through the bars. Of course, while they came through quite a way, eventually they stopped with her chest and face pressed up to the inside of the cage. Squeezing harder, I said in a no-nonsense voice, "Lissen up, bitch. You haven't been gone so long that you can't remember who is in charge here." The sweat was popping out on her face in beads as the pain in her still yanked and squeezed titties registered.

The commanding socialite was suddenly gone, replaced by a cringing slave girl. "Yes, Master. Stephanie is sorry, Master. Please let go of Stephanie's titties, Master. A girl will be good. Really really good."

I let go and she fell back, grabbing her aching breasts with both hands. Suddenly she put one hand over her mouth as her eyes expanded in realization of what was about to happen. She looked around in panic, saw the waste bucket and then tore the lid off and barely got her face over it before she started heaving. She hadn't eaten since yesterday, so not much came up but when it was over she was weak as a kitten and just sagged back on her mat and groaned. I made sure that she had plenty of fresh water, and left her to her misery.

I had to decide what do to with her. For one thing, as long as she was in that cage, I couldn't leave the house for long. Not more than a day or so. But if I hauled her to the dungeon, she was then a captive forever. And if I let her out, there is no telling what she might do in her current state of mind.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Slowly, I developed plans after plans for my fantasy. All were rejected in their whole, but parts were saved and plugged into a loosely developing scheme. At this point it was just that, a fantasy. I doubted that I could ever bring it off, or that I would even try. For one thing, the risks, if not to me, then to the participants, were fairly high - meaning that the cost of the actual labor would be immense. Nevertheless, I had a blast thinking, planning and scheming.

Now, my fat bitch was not only eating massive meals, but during her waking periods between meal times she was sucking on a tube leading to a huge container of whole milk, fortified with cream and butterfat. She was given a certain gallonage to finish each day, on penalty of the lash.

She even had a name now, but one that she got by happenstance. Pancake had come to me with a problem. "Master, we are just about out of milk for Pudgy."

I looked at her and said, "Pudgy?"

Pancake suddenly realized what she had said, and clapped her hand over her mouth. Then, quickly said, "A girl is sorry, Master. A girl meant to say, 'the bitch.'"

I was amused. "Where did you get the name, Pudgy?"

Pancake was worried about the whip enough to drop to her knees before she spoke. "Sometimes the girls call her that, Master. It is just a nickname that just came up once. A girl will give orders for it to never be used again, Master."

Not bad, I thought. What the heck. Why not? "The Master is pleased with the name. Tell the girls that the bitch is now called Pudgy. And inform the bitch of her new name."

I looked over at the new girl. Pudgy was an excellent description, although it would be obsolete fairly soon. Under her forced diet, she was gaining about a pound a day. Her brand was now totally healed and looked like it was a feature that came with her originally.

I had decided to keep Stephanie, but I still didn't want her to know about the cave. I wasn't sure why, but I just had a feeling that she might still have a part to play in the outside world. But I still had the problem of not being able to travel with her in the cage downstairs. Some emails to the other part of the world began the resolution of that problem.

In a week or so, an associate of Francois showed up in yet another vehicle. I wondered, did they steal all those different conveyances, or rent them, or what? Anyway, shortly thereafter, Stephanie was in a box, unconscious after drinking a glass of wine with one of Francois's sleepy pills dissolved in it, and heading down the road in the back of a truck.

I set up a big dry erase board beside my basement desk. On one side was the goal, in the middle were the problems, and on the other side were the tentative plans for each problem. I tried to concentrate on one aspect of the operation at a time. And operation was the word - this would need to go off with military precision, with different possibilities for different reactions. I was reminded of the famous general's saying of "No plan ever survives contact with the enemy." This one needed to be able to be called off at any stage, but further, if it was called off, any evidence that their ever was an operation needed to just evaporate.

So far, it was still just play planning. A fun exercise, no more.

Later in the month, I got ready to head for Europe again. I had been toying with the idea of purchasing my own jetliner. With the size of my fortune now, both the purchase and operational costs would be trivial. But, while the convenience of a private plane would be wonderful, it flew in the face of my desire to remain anonymous. Or at least as anonymous as a millionaire can ever be. The ownership of a plane big enough to fly between continents would put my name firmly on the lists of several dozen government agencies around the world. Besides, I could never use it to fly girls around. That would be far too risky.


I stood outside of what would be called a suite in any other institution. Of course, in Tarkan's establishment, a suite was a matter of degree. In this case, through the small grill, I could see that it was an eight by eight room with an actual bed and bathroom. However, the bed was a wooden platform with a thin mattress filled with straw and the bathroom was a hole in the floor in one corner. I had to admit, compared to some of the holding rooms that I had seen further back in the rear of the building, this was the Presidential suite.

It had a single occupant, naked, and, very unusual for a girl in this place, this one had a collar that was hooked to a ring on the wall with a thick chain. She also had two wrist bracelets connected by a short chain.

I inserted a key in the lock, and opened the door. In this case, the lock was not to keep the girl in - the chain did that - but was to protect the girl from wandering hardons during the night, although I wondered what employee would take the chance of punishment from either of Tarken's bouncers just for a piece of ass.

Stephanie heard the door open, saw me enter and immediately jumped up and threw her arms around my neck. Or tried to - with her chained wrists, she had to lift them over my head to get them behind me. "Oh, god, I knew you would find me," she sobbed. She felt good. I let my hands explore up and down her body, pressed against mine. Interesting - she apparently thought she had been kidnapped from my home.

"How have you been," I asked.

She looked up at me in surprise. "How have I been? Look at this place! I don't even know where I am."

I disengaged her arms from around my neck and pushed her down to sit on her bed. "Well, you are an honored guest at the business of a friend of mine." Her sobbing attitude started to disappear as her temper began to take over.

"Honored guest!?" She waved her chained arms around. "Look at this shithole. The only thing worse is the food. What they bring me is worse than shit."

"I gave orders for them to treat you as a VIP. And you are."

"YOU gave orders?" She was now building a full head of steam. "YOU sent me here?"

"Of course. Where else would I send a slave but to a slave traders?" That made the color fade from her face.

In a much quieter voice, she asked. "You are serious?" Then in a few moments, "No, you can't be. This is the twenty first century - there is no such thing anymore as actual slaves."

For a reply, I selected another key from the ring that I carried, unlocked her collar chain from the ring on the wall, then began to tow her toward the door. She reached up and grabbed hold of the chain, then pulled back on it. "I can't go out there. I'm naked."

"Of course," I replied. "All slave girls in this place are naked." I pulled her out into the hallway despite her resistance. A few minutes and several doors later, we were in the depths of the building, in the area for incoming merchandise. I stopped in front of a door, then looked in through the small barred opening at the ten foot square room. I could see a dozen or so pitiful specimens of refugee women, all naked and mostly sitting on the floor. The smell was absolutely indescribable - a miasma of sweat, piss, shit and unwashed female bodies, cunts and asses.

I slid the large latch bolt to the side and opened the door. The women in the room immediately jumped to their feet and wedged themselves against the back wall in fear of the unknown. I pushed Stephanie into the room, collar chain and all, then closed the door and threw the bolt.

As I retreated down the hall as rapidly as I could to get away from the smell, I heard Stephanie screaming through the opening in the door. It was just the expected entreaties to not be left there. And that she would do anything, and so forth. At the second door, I stopped, leaned back against the wall and just stood there breathing deeply. As air went, even here it was pretty substandard stuff, but compared to the toxic atmosphere that I had just left, this tasted like the cool flower scented breezes on my mountaintop.

I enjoyed the hospitality at Ayhan's for the night, then left for an excursion around the Black Sea.

Two weeks later I was back in the slave pit. I waited in Stephanie's original luxury suite as Acid Face retrieved her from the back of the building. He pushed her into the room, the collar chain still attached and clanking on the floor. I looked her over as I picked up the end and relocked it to the ring on the wall. She was very subdued, dirty and stunk like an outhouse. Her period had come and gone and the remains of dried blood trailed down her thighs. Scratches on her face, arms and tits made me think that possibly she hadn't gotten along with some of her new acquaintances.

I looked at her standing in the center of the small room. "Now do you believe me that you are in the VIP suite?"

For a reply, she immediately threw herself at my feet and sobbed, "Please. Don't leave me here. Take me back to your house. You can beat me, whip me, anything." She gave just about as pitiful a picture of a woman who had no illusions left as I had ever seen. And she wasn't acting, now. "Please. You can have my money. Take it, just take me with you."

I sat down on the hard mattress. "A slave doesn't have any money. How could she give any to me?" And that was a fact. Using the contents of her purse, most of what she got in her divorce was now proceeding overseas to make still more money for me.

I was harder than a rock. She was so disgustingly filthy that I didn't want to lay on her, but my nuts were unconcerned with my fastidiousness. I stood up for a second and dropped my pants, then sat back down. "Give me some mouth action," I ordered. Her desperation was such that there was not a millisecond of hesitation. She scooted across the floor, and immediately clamped her mouth around my dick. A few minutes later she swallowed every drop and looked up in hope that the satisfaction would be rewarded.

I reached down and put my hand under her jaw and pulled her face up to look at me. "You aren't going to be sold as a slave, yet. In fact, I haven't decided just what to do with you. Maybe I will take you back to the good old USA eventually." She started to smile in relief until she realized what I had just said.

"But..." she started.

I stopped her and stood up, rezipping my pants. "For now you are going to stay here and receive some training. When and if I decide what to do with you - well, what will happen is something for the future. Get on the bed, on your back."

Confused, she looked at the bed, then at me. "But...' she started again. I pulled the small crop out of my back pocket and whacked her lightly across the back.

"On the bed, bitch. Now. And spread 'em." She jumped up, lay down and opened her legs for what she assumed was my entry. No chance of that, since I had just blown off a load, and also for the reason that the smell from her crack, and in fact her whole body, was overwhelming. "I'm going to have a friend look after you while you are here." I waited for her expression of gratitude. "I want you to be nice to him in return." With that, I stepped back out into the hall and gestured. A moment later Acid Face re-entered the room, pulled on the rope that passed for a belt, let his pants drop to the floor, then moved toward the now stupefied Stephanie. He not only was a big dude in body, but he was swinging a piece of meat to match his size. I assumed that, since he was a permanent employee in this place, the less than erotic fragrance from Stephanie's body would not be a problem. It obviously wasn't.

He dropped to his knees between Stephanie's, pointed in the direction he wanted to go, and entered in one motion. Stephanie started out with one long "NOOOOOO" that was cut off when his hand whacked across her face. I decided that the couple deserved some privacy, so I left quietly with my last view of her of being rocked back and forth as he pumped her pussy in long strokes.

I stopped by Tarkan's office for a chat, thanked him for the services he was providing to me, and indicated what I wanted done with Stephanie while she was here. Fortunately, he had an employee who spoke fairly good English. When I asked about training, Tarken immediately sat up and said, "Ah... I have a brother-in-law who trains women in the art of courtesans. He is very expensive, but he is sent girls from all over the world to be turned into exquisite property. I you wish, I will contact him for you."

"Thank you, Tarkan. Please do." He immediately picked up the phone and conversed with the other end for a time, then hung up.

"He is waiting for you. With your permission, Osman..." His translator indicated himself. "...will take you over there. It is only about a half hour away."

"You are a friend without price, " I said as I stood up. "Thank you for the all the services." I pulled an envelope out of my pocket, "This is to cover any expenses that I have in the coming year."

"That is fine, my friend, but do not forget to send me some more of your beautiful American women."

A while later, I was sitting in a parlor in a much better part of the city than I had just come from. After going through the obligatory tea acceptance, and exchanging pleasantries, my host, one known as Surhan, asked, "What may I do for the friend of my brother?" He spoke good English, so we could converse directly. I gave him the details on Stephanie, and that I understood that he trained women in the art of courtesanship, if that is a word, and that if he would accept the commission, I wanted her to be trained to the utmost that art - no expense to be spared."

Shortly, we came to an agreement, he gave orders to a minion to arrange for Stephanie to be transferred between establishments, then offered me a tour. I was flabbergasted to see the insides of yet another business that I didn't even know existed until today. The tour was stunning, but is a tale for a later time.

The Mountaintop

Pudgy was rapidly turning into a lard toy. Between the very high calorie diet and the total lack of exercise, she didn't lay on her platform so much as flow across it. Every part of her was becoming huge. If she was put on her hands and knees, her breasts had almost grown large enough for the nipples to touch the mattress. Soon they would. When either Coco or the boy were allowed to service her, the motion of the pounding would cause ripples to move up and down her body as her flesh responded to the action. I even used her on occasion. She was a soft and pleasant mattress to just lay on and relax, after shooting off into her.

I realized that my grand plans for my fantasy operation were just that, a fantasy. What I had drawn up would have put a Hollywood thriller to shame, required a massive cast, tons of money and a military precision in execution that would have had audiences laughing at the writer.

I erased my efforts to date, and realize that I should have followed the advice given to beginning programmers. KISS - keep it simple, stupid. After a little thought on those lines, I realized that I needed it to be done by no more than two or three people, at most.

A long email came from Ayhan that was interesting, to say the least. He informed me that Tarkan had been unable to fill my previous order, but... What followed was a long explanation of a possible alternate to my needs - and a request for a favor.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Ms B was becoming a real treat. She was no pinup girl, or woman I should say. Ordinary looking, small breasted, nice face, but nothing spectacular. But she enjoyed B&D about as much as any girl I had ever had. She was the type who got off on what was about to happen that she had no power to stop. She feared being put under the whip, or stretched in the rack, but would give instruction for severe whippings or tight stretching without a safe word, knowing that once the session started, that she was helpless to prevent what was coming. She didn't quite rise to the level of Mrs T's desire for pain, but that was no surprise. Mrs T would have given instructions for herself to be broken on the wheel, if she thought I would perform it on her.

We discovered early on that Ms B liked uncertainty, rather than giving specific instructions for her session at the start. Together, we came up with a random method, employing a deck of cards that would determine the type and severity of her bondage. When she showed up for a session, she would shuffle an ordinary deck of cards, then place it in my little Japanese box. First, she would be restrained somehow, usually in the vertical chain X. I would draw the first card off the top of the deck. That would show, in hours, how long she would be restrained before her first punishment. It could be from one - an ace - to thirteen hours - a king. The next card would show what the punishment would be. If a heart, then it would the whip. A spade would be the rack, and so forth. The next card would tell how long the punishment would be for, or how many strokes she would get, whichever matched the punishment that was scheduled. The final card would tell the severity of the punishment. A black suite meant severe strokes, or tight stretching - red would be lesser. A joker would call for a really far out routine, to be select by drawing another card.

Not long after we developed the system, we discovered that the erotic value of the unknown was enhanced if I didn't show her the cards until AFTER the action. That way she had no idea of what was coming, or how long or how severe. I would lay the cards face down in a row on a shelf that she could see, then after the punishment or restraint show her the value so she would know that I hadn't been cheating - that she got exactly the action that she had drawn.

Finally, I designed and printed up a special deck of cards that were tailored to the play. Now she could draw into almost anything, and could specify gags, plugs, clamps, and everything in my inventory. Or sex - pussy, anal, oral, enemas, licking - whatever. If the odds were running against her on that day, the combination of unfortunate card draws could have her in real and severe bondage.

She was going to be a fine addition to someone's harem someday - possibly even mine.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I drove across the state line to visit my booki... The Big Fixer. What the heck. The man was like me, self made, up from a nobody to a multimillionaire. I should give him the credit he deserved. He was a long way from a mere bookie now. Just like I was a long long way from a fifteen dollar an hour salaried programmer.

He looked over my plan and my list of needed support personnel. "Hmmmm," he started. "You're getting kind of ambitious, aren't you." He examined the data sheet on the target of the operation. "I doubt that having a famous name makes a cunt feel any better around your dick when you're poking it."

"I have no doubt of that," I replied, "but this is a trading item, not a warmer for my bed."

"I don't see a problem, except for the crew that does the pickup. If it goes south they're going be looking at a heavy jolt." I assumed that the slang meant a long prison term. "They're going to want some pretty good bread up front."

I shrugged. "Do you want to get a credit report on me before we start?"

He laughed. "Ok, what do you want first?"

I pointed to the first item. "Just the reconnaissance for now. I need all the info I can get before deciding on anything else. Besides, there is a good chance this won't even go down."

Back home, I forgot about the plan until some more info came in as to the viability of whole idea.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Mrs N turned out to be just about what I had pegged her for. By now, I could usually, but not always, predict the path that a new client's desires would take just from the first interview. She liked moderate bondage, and light pain, but always with sex sometime during the session. She was another candidate for sale some day but the problem with her was that she was very prominent in her social circles. If she just up and disappeared, the news would hit the national headlines. Plus, there was the problem that she lived in the same town that two others had vanished from, also. I didn't want to trigger some investigative reporting from a newspaper who connected the dots together.

But that was a problem for the future.

I had my first medical problem on a girl. Cupcake developed an abscessed tooth that I could tell was going to go bad fast. I flew a dentist and his equipment in from a Caribbean island and had him work on her my house. This was the first time that she had been without her collar and bracelets since she was taken into the cave. It was also the first time that she had worn clothes during that time. Actually, it was a two part job. First was the root canal, then the dentist came back a month later to fill the tooth and cap it. An expensive dental bill, but far safer than trying to move her somewhere to have the work done.

The bitch, aka Pudgy was really spreading out on her round platform. By now, her stomach was so big and so used to being filled, that she didn't have to be forced to eat. In fact, if her meal was delayed in any way, or if she ran out of the enriched milk, her stomach complained to the extent that she was in actual pain. She was now getting so heavy, and her muscles had so atrophied from the lack of exercise, or even normal movement, that she had trouble just getting up to squat over her commode. I would have loved to have just strapped her on her back with her arms and legs spread out permanently, except that I knew that that was a medical impossibility, sex stories of it's being done not withstanding. She would have rapidly turned into a mass of bedsores. She would have to be allowed to move around on her bed, if not leave it.

The first item was a female catheter. That was something I would never have tried on my other girls, since I would be afraid of causing real medical problems. But the risk for the bitch was something I could live with. I printed off a considerable amount of info from various sites on the 'Net which I gave to Pancake to study. Once she was comfortable with what to do, we tightly stretched Pudgy out on her back and Pancake began to attempt to insert it. After a several tries, a couple of which made the fat girl jump, she got it inserted properly and the balloon expanded. A soft silicone hose was then inserted into the output of the catheter, and led off the platform to a collection bottle. Right as the catheter exited her peehole, a right angle connection directed the hose through the upper part of her crack, so as not to interfere with the use of her pussy. To prevent it from becoming entangled in her legs as she rolled over or moved around on the platform, the hose was led down one leg and held close with surgical bands. A week later, I had the girls pierce her upper pussy lips in several places just below her clit. Then the hose was pushed into the upper crack and the pussy lips sewed together over it. That kept it in place no matter how she moved around or how much her pussy was pumped.

We watched for a while as the pee slowly dripped into the bottle as it was produced. That took care of one output from the fat girl. The other bottom hole would take some experimentation.

It took several attempts before we made a working catheter, if that is what it is called, for her asshole, but eventually we got one that was leakproof and satisfactory. Once again, the methodology of keeping it simple was what gave success in the end. The use of an inflatable bladder worked temporarily, but I could never find one that would stay inflated. So I settled on a large surgical rubber ball, firm but not hard, through which a half inch hose was inserted. The end of the hose that would go inside her had a normal insertable nozzle connected, like the one that comes on a disposable feminine douche bottle, but with the end opened up. The external part of the hose led down her leg, next to the other one, off the bed and to a double valve. Switched one way would allow water to flow into her rectum - turned the other way would allow the liquid shit to flow into the sewer pipe.

When it came time to install it, the bitch was spread out with all four limbs stretched in chains with her bottom propped up by a big foam cushion under her stomach. Then her hole was temporarily widened over several hours with a series of stretchers - over her silent protests, I might add. Then finally, with a massive application of ass lube, both on the large ball, and in and around her asshole, the ball with the nozzle and hose were slowly pushed up into her.

Since it was the largest ball that I calculated that she could take without ripping something, the insertion was accompanied by massive wiggling that normally would have been accompanied by corresponding screams. But in a few moments it suddenly sucked in as it finally moved past the sphincter muscle. Then, to prevent it from moving further up her anal canal, and to prevent leakage around it, the end of the hose was threaded through a much smaller rubber ball which was then slipped all the way up the hose until it touched the outside of her asshole. As the hose was gently tugged to pull the large internal ball back against the inside of her asshole, the little ball was pushed up firmly against the outside of the hole. Then a single drop of instant glue fixed the small ball in place on the hose. Now the internal ball was constantly pulled back against the inside of the sphincter and her rectum was leakproof. The ball was so big that she would never be able to shit it out. If it needed to be removed, I would have to do it.

I knew she was sore and could feel the internal ball for several days, but eventually the feeling disappeared and she lost any sensation of being plugged up. Now, once a day Pancake would step up to the platform, turn a valve that would allow about a gallon of warm water to flow into the bitch's ass, then flip the valve to the other position which would allow Pudgy to blow out the now liquid shit whenever she wanted.

She was now chained to where she could not leave the platform. She could sit up, roll over and move around but that is about all. Her hands were free, but her wrists were connected to individual neck collar chains that prevented her from reaching much below her belly button. Every few days, one of the girls would give her a sponge bath and change the blanket that covered her mattress. She was eating so often that she was required to use a toothbrush every few hours. I didn't want her teeth to fall out next year from all the sweets she was eating.

On occasion, she would be placed on her back, her arms would be chained out over her head, her legs raised and fastened in stirrups, and then her pussy would be used by one of the swinging dicks in the cave, and on occasion, including me. By now, she was so large that, when on her hands and knees, her tits would not only touch the mattress, but would be firmly resting most of their weight on it. That is how she spent her days, just laying around on the platform converting calories into fat.

One unforeseen problem cropped up. I was suddenly afraid that when the boy was pumping her, that the heavy metal that he was swinging that normally hit her, or any girl, in the ass crack would damage or knock something loose. From then on, when he fucked her, Coco had the job of holding his nuts so that they would not swing into her equipment. I warned Coco that if she tried to play games and hurt him in any way, then she would be strapped down and the boy allowed to plow her rear hole until he tired of it. Since Coco didn't like a dick up her butt any more than the boy did, the warning was sufficient.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I got a written report from my agent in California. I perused it for several days, building then tearing down plan after plan. I thought I saw the way it could be done, so I sent off a message for some specific information.

Coming back early, I caught Coco and Chocolate making the two backed beast without permission - a major fracture of my rules. In my dungeon, all sexual acts were ok'ed by me before they were performed. Normally Pancake would be watchful for that kind of infraction, but she was asleep on her mat.

Both were stretched up in the whipping posts, titty to titty, although Coco resisted and had to be man and woman handled by both Pancake and Cupcake with help from the boy before she was properly trussed up. For the next half hour, the dungeon echoed with screams as Pancake wielded her strap as hard as she could swing it. I let them hang in the chains until bedtime, then they were both deposited in a cage. Pancake then strapped a chastity belt on both, manacled their right hand to the other's left wrist and then the left to the other's right. Then the same thing with their ankles. Both wrists and feet had about a foot of chain from girl to girl. They would stay in there for a month, chaste and joined at the wrists and ankles, eating, sleeping, pissing and shitting together. They were only fed twice a day, morning and night and most of the rest of the time, except for their sleeping period, were gagged.

Cupcake especially, enjoyed the sight of either of them trying to piss or shit while chained together and desperately trying not to overturn the bucket onto their sleeping blanket. She could definitely be a little bitch, but she was also careful not to break any rules that would get her into a similar situation.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Mrs B eventually drew the only wild card in her special pack. It was the equivalent of the Joker in a regular deck of cards. What it meant was, that she would now endure one of the special punishments on a list of the wildest things I could think up. In this case, she was led outside and down the back side of the hill a ways, where my store of sand and gravel was kept. I had already dug a hole in the slightly wet sand big enough for her to sit in. At the bottom was square block of foam for her to sit on. It had a small hole in the middle leading to a much larger cavity in the block. After seating her, with her asshole over the hole, and her legs spread, I began to push the sand back in the hole. When it got about level with her tits, I unmanacled her hands, had her stick them down into the sand at about a forty five degree angle and proceeded to fill the hole up. Shortly, only her head was sticking out of the sand and she was entirely immobile. I had a small wooden box built that would fit over her head to protect her from the sun and the unlikely wild animal that might come along. One face of the box was open with screen wire that would allow her to look out. A small hose attached to and leading through the screen from a water bottle made sure that she could stay hydrated. I left her there, immobile and looking out over a grand view of the valley.

My information came back from California, and I made tentative plans to act on it. If my plan didn't work, so be it. I would either try another or drop the project. I had negotiated a fee for several agents - ok, underworld scum, to be realistic - both for just the setup and for the actual initiation of the plan. They were to drive out there since most of them didn't want any part of the security screening that came with flying. None of them knew who was running the show, of course. Everything went though my bookie/fixer.

Late that afternoon I checked on my buried client. She was getting along fine, so I decided that as long as she was bored, I might as well give her something to do. To her surprise, I took off my shorts, then sat down in front of her, legs out in a vee pattern, then scooted up until my dick was in reach of her mouth. "Start sucking, bitch," I ordered. As she hesitated - more from the surprise order than any dislike of the act - I continued, "Or you can be ring gagged and hooded for the night if you would prefer. I lay back on my elbows as she began to work her tongue and mouth up and down my rod. The afternoon was warm and beautiful, and I enjoyed the breeze coming up the hill as I prepared to fill her mouth with cream. Suddenly, I sat up, grabbed her by the ears then began to pump my jism down her throat. She choked, but managed to get most of it down. "Good girl," I said. Reaching into a box I had brought, I fed her some meat and rolls that Cupcake had made. Finally, I unwrapped a candy bar and she gobbled it down. I replaced her box cover and wished her good night. After making sure her water jug was full, I went back indoors.

By morning, her colon would be empty and the hole in the box she was sitting on would be full. The candy bar that I gave her was laced with a chocolate laxative.

The next morning, I towed her back into the house for a shower and the termination of this session. Shortly I was driving her back to the city to get her car. From her babbling about her experiences this time, I could definitely consider her to be hooked for life on hard core B&D.

Los Angeles

My crew was equipped with pay-by-the-minute phones, but were told not to turn them on until they got to their destination. I also emphasized that the Fixer was to tell them in no uncertain terms to obey all laws for the time being. It had always been baffling to me at to why, for instance, the driver of a car stuffed to the ceiling with crack, or pot, or cash, or something else that could send them up the river for twenty years, would cruise down an Interstate highway ten or fifteen miles an hour over the speed limit. And usually in a car that had something visibly wrong with it, like missing or expired plates, or broken headlights or such. Apparently drugs actually do make you stupid, even if you don't ingest them. I wanted none of that on my operation.

Once I got to the west coast, I played the part of a tourist, waiting for my crew to arrive. I had no intention of physically assisting in this operation - in fact, no one, including the Fixer had any idea that I was out here. I was an anonymous kibitzer.

The girl I wanted, who was the reason for this operation, was an actress, twenty eight years of age, currently ranked among the top ten. Like so many, she started as a very young player on TV, then into bit parts in the movies, and finally was Discovered and hit it big in Hollywood - now among the top ten in ratings. Also, like so many, she couldn't handle the success. A series of busts, both for drugs and booze, got her a couple of sessions of rehab and also more parts in pictures. Then a couple of DUIs found her trying to stay out of jail. So far she had, but my wager was that a zebra can't change its stripes, and neither could she. My agent who had been out here investigating, confirmed it. She was a regular patron of the exclusive clubs, and almost always left being supported by whatever hangers-on happened to be with her that night. On occasion, he even saw her driving herself away from the club, an act of total stupidity based on what would happen if she was stopped, or hit someone.

Needless to say, she was beautiful, desirable, and worth a fortune in certain parts of the world. I wanted neither the money nor her pussy.

On Thursday afternoon, my crew had arrived, checked in to the hotel they were sent to, and called their controller - me. I told them to do anything they wanted during the day, but be back at the hotel by eight o'clock in case orders came in. Usually, I would call them before that and tell them that nothing would be happening tonight, and do what they wanted. My other agent, the one who was keeping physical track of my target, would keep me posted during the evening as to the possibility of action.

A week went by without an opportunity. Then part of another. So far, the girl had either stayed home, or gone somewhere unknown.

Sunday night rolled around and she headed to a popular roundup for the rich and famous. Unfortunately, this one would not serve our purpose - it was far too open, in the good part of town, and the parking lot had real security people monitoring it.

Monday night found her in another club. Again, it didn't feel right and I called the operation off.

Wednesday night, she hit another spot. It wasn't perfect, but it was doable. I gave the order to proceed, then drove my rental down to the dive and parked across the street. Just another car in hundreds of cars lining the street. Soon, I got the word that the items had successfully been planted in her car. I had no idea of how a modern automobile was broken into, what with electronic locks and alarms, but I had been assured that it was duck soup for an expert. And I supposedly had a expert who was so good that he hadn't been in jail for car theft for more than seven years.

Not long after the call, I saw another car pull up and into a lot down the street. Nobody got out.

It was a long wait. She was really making it a night. Finally, she came out, unsteadily arm and arm with a girlfriend and headed for the parking garage. I dialed the phone and alerted my crew. Since her car was close to the bottom of a multi story parking garage, the GPS unit attached to her bumper was not registering on my laptop yet. I hoped it had been installed.

Now it all came down to whether or not she, or her friend would bother to question why there was a bottle of excellent wine sitting on the center console - a bottle that already had the cork pulled and barely stuffed back in. Eventually, her car came out the exit, and my laptop beeped as an icon appeared on the map. I spoke one word into my phone, "Rolling." I had previously given the exact description of her car to my crew. Being night, and the fact that her car had heavily tinted windows, made it impossible to see who was driving, or even how many were in the car.

At one thirty on a week night, the traffic was fairly sparse, and got less as she moved up into the hills. I was just another car rolling down the road and I doubt that my crew even noticed it as they passed me to move up behind her at a discrete distance. The only reason I was going along was to keep them on track in the event that they got stuck at a light or traffic and lost her. Actually, I could have done that from my hotel, but I wanted to see this operation as it went down... or south, I told myself.

A half hour later, she was getting close to home and I was about to call off the pursuit when her car just began to slow down. A wheel climbed a curb, and either bounced back or was jerked back on the road. It continued to slow and began creeping across the center of he street toward the other side. I suddenly froze as it appeared that it was going to dead center a car parked at the curb. I was a considerable ways back and my depth of vision was fortunately defective because I saw her car disappear behind the parked auto and stop short in a bush. I pulled over and turned off my lights.

What happened next, happened in a flash. These might have been underworld scum, or two bit crooks for all I knew, but they worked like a well oiled military team. One jumped out of the following car, walked - not ran - up to her stalled car, unlocked and opened the door somehow, and got in. I assumed that what he found were two girls sitting there glassy eyed - spaced out on the GHB that was in the wine. Immediately, the car reversed, then took off at a normal speed down the block, turning right and disappearing. The chase car followed. I just started up, u-turned and headed back toward town. On the laptop I could see the girl's car heading west toward the ocean.

I sat in my hotel parking lot and continued to watch the scrolling map. Eventually the car turned onto a road paralleling the ocean and then into a seaside park. In a few minutes, the GPS signal disappeared.

The next morning, I resumed my tourism. There was a wonderful Shakespeare in the Park performance that I saw that night, followed by a deep sea fishing expedition the next day. Eventually, I checked out of the hotel and caught a flight back home. In the airport, I noticed headlines about some actress who apparently had gotten drunk and fell off a cliff and was assumed to be drowned in the Pacific. I didn't read it. Stuff like that happened all the time out there.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

When I got back, both Coco and Chocolate were very unhappy and begging to be let out of the cage. I ignored them. I brought Pancake upstairs that night as my bedwarmer. It had been several days since I had had any tail, and she was a welcome relief. I asked how things had gone during my absence and she had no complaints. Well, there had been some minor squabbles between the two chained girls - neither one had a good control of her temper out of my presence and it was inevitable that they would shortly get on each other nerves, especially when having to live in each others face for days on end. Fortunately, Pancake's whip easily fit between the bars. It didn't help that both were horny bitches and neither one could touch the parts that they needed to manipulate to get relief.

The next morning, I sat down at my computer and did some searching of the news. I was especially interested in articles about a famous actress - one who, alas, had already shown an unfortunate tendency to abuse certain drugs. Apparently, she went to a club in violation of her parole rules, got smashed and drove to a park overlooking the ocean. When a patrol car drove up early the next morning, the driver's door was open just a few feet away from the cliff, at the edge of which were certain gouges. Unfortunately, her companion was still sleeping off the night's revelry and could throw no light on what had happened. Or, for that matter, even remember driving up the coast road. The Coast Guard was still engaged in a search of the waters off the park, but were very pessimistic about any success of finding the missing actress alive.

Hollywood is certainly not a wholesome place to live, I decided. This kind of stuff was always going on out there.

Two days later, my throwaway cellphone rang, and a voice said a single word, "Ok". I broke the phone in half, and as I drove down the road toward town, threw the individual pieces over certain road side cliffs as I passed them. In town, I drove up and into a ratty old warehouse that was owned by me, but through enough phony corporations that even I wasn't sure how to trace the ownership. Inside, among all the boxes of junk, was just another anonymous box that hadn't been there a few days ago. I hammered the side open, picked up the unconscious girl under her arms and strapped her into the passenger seat of my car. Shortly, the auto with the mountaintop millionaire and his latest girlfriend were heading back up the mountain road. It was a beautiful day and I prepared to wave at whichever deputy was standing outside of the station, but on this day no one was.

In an hour or so, my new possession was safely installed in a cage in the dungeon, sans clothes.

I picked up a briefcase, got back in my car and headed over the state line. A couple of hours later, I was knocking back a glass or two and getting the rest of the story from the Fixer. I already knew most of what had happened, even though it was from inference, and not actual data. After driving the car to the cliff side and gouging the edge to look like a fall, they removed the GPS unit and threw both it and the now half empty bottle of wine into the ocean. Then two states away, after injecting her with some additional bye-bye juice, they sealed their cargo into the provided box and passed it on to another courier and drove back to the Fixers to get paid. The original crew had no idea where she went after they passed her on. And the person they delivered her to had no idea what he was delivering.

I authorized the balance of payment to the men for the job, and added a goodly amount as a bonus for a job well done. The Fixer toasted me with the comment, "Man, you are wasting your life by fooling around with pussy. With your skills, you could be the head cheese of an international mob in nothing flat." I assumed he was joking, but I wasn't tempted to change career paths.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

By the next day, all of the drugs had passed out of my starlet's system and she had already gone through all the usual acts of emotion. Disbelief, panic, threats, pleading and finally begging. She obviously had already been lasered clean of any hair, so that wasn't needed. I had the girls drag her bodily to a sawhorse rack and strapped her in. By now her voice was failing from the nonstop stream of pleadings and threats that she had been giving out all morning. Those suddenly stopped completely when Pancake stuck a ball gag in her mouth - at least, they weren't understandable after that.

I ran my hands up and down her back. She had a luscious body, but slightly puffy from her constant bingeing. As I reached under to feel of her big tits, she squirmed and fought the chains and shouted around the gag. Pancake looked inquiringly at me, silently offering the use of her crop on the recalcitrant female. I waved her back, and continued my exploring. Her pussy was beautiful, to match the rest of her. I spread the pink little lips and fingered up the channel - warm and wet. Finally, I lubed and stuck my middle finger in her little ass star and wiggled. That set her off again.

I hadn't had plans to use her myself before sending her off, but the pressures that rose from the sight of this young struggling cunt could not be resisted. I nodded at Pancake, and she dropped down on her knees to lube my cock, and I stepped up and began to insert it up the pussy of the now frantic girl. I reached around, grabbed her fat titties, and pumped away. In a few minutes, she was officially raped. The Fixer was right. Except for the psychological erotism of fucking a new girl and famous actress, her cunt felt just about like all the rest that I had ever poked.

I backed away, and looked at the boy, standing there hoping that I was going to allow him a piece of her also. I was feeling generous, and shortly his metal weighted nuts were swinging back and forth hard enough to slap her in her love mound. I had told him to use her pussy only, not the other hole.

When the action was over, I told Pancake to string her up and begin a standard breaking routine. In a while, as I sat at my computer, I heard the shrieks of the new girl as Pancake put the leather to her at the whipping posts.

An Airport

I stood around the lobby waiting for the huge 747 to unload. I assumed that my visitors would be flying first class, but that was only an assumption. For all I knew they could be in the back of the plane. I was holding up a sign with a single word, hoping that I had copied the strange script correctly. Eventually, a young man and an even younger girl spotted me and changed course to where I was standing.

"Mr. Tatum?" he asked. When I nodded to confirm that he was correct, he continued, "My name is Sirhan bin Demir. My Uncle send his most fervent greetings." He pointed to the slight young girl behind him and said, "Her name is Fatimah bint Mahmoud bin Abdulaziz Al-Fulan." I gulped, and my face probably mirrored my confusion. He smiled and said, "You may call her Teema... or anything you want."

I held out my hand and said, "Welcome to America, Mr Demir. Come with me and we'll rescue your luggage."

He shook his head. "It will just be hers. I am continuing on to New York. Here is the information that my Uncle asked me to deliver with the woman." He handed be a packet then looked at his watch - a Rolex, I noticed - and said, "I need to get back on the plane." To the girl, he said several sentences in Turkish, then pointed to me. Then he held out his hand, said goodbye and moved back into the boarding area.

"Do you speak English?" I asked the girl.

"Very quietly, and without looking at me, she replied, "Yes, Sir."

Eventually her bag finally appeared on the baggage carousel. Shortly, we were in my car for the five hour drive to the mountaintop.

Chapter 5 (added: 02/12/2011)

The Mountaintop

Teema was awed by her first view of the dungeon. I don't know what she was expecting - in fact, I didn't know if she was expecting anything, but the sight of the huge bubble in the rock, well lighted and furnished and populated had her frozen in place and just staring. I knew she would be hungry, so I asked, "Teema, I'll have some food made - what do you usually eat? And is there anything you aren't supposed to have?" Until I read the information that came with her, I had no idea of her status.

In her quiet voice, she replied in perfect English. "I have spent my life living in all parts of the world, sir. There is little that I haven't tried. I have no religious beliefs that bar me from eating certain foods."

I told Pancake to fix us some dinner, and with several different choices. At my desk, while we were waiting, I indicated a chair that she could relax into. I opened the thin envelope, withdrew a sheaf of papers and began to read.

The Information was obviously written by a non-native English speaker. Some of it took a while for me to decipher though the fractured grammar. But the gist of it is as follows...

Teema was the daughter of an educated family, related in some indecipherable way to Ayhan - what the heck, call her his niece. Her parents worked for the government and were aides to various ambassadors around the world. As she had said, she spent almost the entirety of her life in one capital or another around the world. That explained her command of multiple languages. Then one fateful day, she was fortunately elsewhere when a bomb took out the ambassadors limo and her parents with it.

Now came a part that I had trouble understanding, despite multiple re-readings. Eventually, through all the broken grammar, badly translated legalese, and descriptions of customs that I didn't understand, I finally got an idea of her plight. Her parents were very well off, and the inheritance would descend to Teema when she came of age, which was apparently the age of 20 - three years from now. However, if something happened to her in the meantime, the estate would devolve onto another relative. I gathered that the idea of that relation getting any part of the inheritance was a total anathema to Ayhan. Reading between the lines, Ayhan thought of that relative's entire family to be about equivalent to what a camel converted grain into.

After a couple of incidents that the information didn't go into, Ayhan had come to the conclusion that if his niece stayed in that country, then she was unlikely to see her next birthday, much less the one three years away. In conclusion, he asked my help in hiding and protecting her until she reached her majority. He knew that I had placed an order with Tarkan for a girl who spoke high class English, Turkish and Arabic, but hadn't found a suitable one yet, and given the type of merchandise he that usually arrived at his establishment, the odds were very low that he ever would.

He asked that she be treated as an honored guest until she reached her majority.

But, in return for protection, Teema would fit the bill nicely as a language tutor. In our friendship, I would have helped Ayhan out in any case, but he was correct, she was just what I had been looking for.

The girls set up a dinner table in my office area, loaded it with masses of food, then with surreptitious looks at the new girl, left us alone to eat. Teema did not speak during the meal, but had a healthy appetite. If the airline that she had flown in on was anything like the ones in the USA, she was probably starving after being offered the crap that was passed off as food by the flight attendants.

After the meal and the table had been removed, I told Pancake to call everyone together for instructions. Shortly, she came over and informed me that my slaves were ready. I motioned Teema to follow me over to the area where they were all lined up, squatting, knees apart and waiting.

"This is Teema, " I started, pointing at the new visitor. "She is a relative of a good friend of mine and is a free woman. You will call her Mistress and will obey her as you do me. You will obey any orders and accept any punishment that she sees fit to give." I nodded to Pancake. "Thats all."

Back at my desk, and sitting down, I asked Teema. "What did your Uncle tell you about my business?"

She replied. "He described you as very wealthy and this cave as your private harem and that you sometimes bought and sold upper class women in our country." She looked around. "I have to say, that his description of this... place was far from adequate."

"You, of course, know why he sent you here."

"Yes, Sir. Because my lifespan was probably going to be extremely short if I continued to abide anywhere in reach of that... " At this point she inserted an unknown word, but I had no problem figuring out that it wasn't a complimentary description. "He also said that you wanted to learn Turkish and Arabic, and that possibly I could assist you in that endeavor." I was about to reply, but she continued, "Let me say, Mr Tatum, that I am grateful for your protection and that I will assist you in any way that you see fit."

I smiled. "Excellent. I want the lessons be totally immersion based. That is, once I can began to put sentences together, we will only speak in that language. We will only drop back into English in the case of some technical word that can't be translated. Meanwhile, let me show you to your bedroom in the house upstairs, although as you can see there are sleeping places everywhere down here, so feel free to sack out anywhere you wish. "

"You might have noticed that nobody down here wears clothes, including me normally. You may do what you wish in that respect. Also, feel free to give orders to any of my girls or the boy for anything you need or want." I was wondering how to phrase the next information, then thought, what the heck, give it out with the bark on. It isn't like she won't know what goes on here.

"One other thing. This cave is my harem, and I use the girls for that. If it offends you in anyway, I have no problem with you wishing to live upstairs and avoid my dungeon. And as I said, the use of my slaves is yours while you are here, in any way you wish."

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

My lessons started immediately. In a few weeks I could put together short sentences and we went to the mode of only speaking in Turkish or Arabic. Teema was a child of the world, and had no problem with my lifestyle. She would strip off her simple one piece gown and enter the hot tub with no qualms of nudity. When the girls cleaned and washed her, she acted like it was a normal feature of life. So far she showed no sign of being a dominatrix - orders that she gave to the girls were ordinary, and no different, either in tone or content, than she would have given to an servant back home. In a very short time, she was spending the days nude like everyone else and thinking nothing of it.

Coco awed her for a while. The boy/girl was her first experience with actually seeing an intersex person. She was actually shocked when she saw Pudgy for the first time.

Pudgy was now a huge overflowing mass of girl flesh. She could barely rise to her hands and knees or turn over. I doubt that she could walk anymore, even if her neck chain would have allowed her to get to her feet. On the occasions that I fucked her, it was like laying on a large warm waterbed. Her flesh would ripple and wave back and forth with my movements as I pounded her pussy. She was big enough to fall asleep on after sex, if one wanted to do that. Her tits would put basketballs to shame for size, and her face was so puffy that her eyes looked out through long tunnels. There was no way to weigh her, but I estimated that she had to weigh in at upwards of four hundred pounds. Her pussy lips were so prominent that it took at least half the length of my cock to just reach her actual love channel. Her brand was almost closed up by the overarching flesh of her thigh. To make it easier to keep her clean, she was now shorn of all hair, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. She was barely recognizable as a woman, and not at all as Shirley, the ex-detective.

Day after day, she just lay there on her back or stomach with arms and legs spread out in chains, waiting for the next delivery of her enriched milk supply. The liquid that she consumed was now metered and pushed up the tube with a pump. That way, the precise amount for her to consume for the day could be regulated. Also, because she was so inactive and had no use of her hands, she now had a throat tube held in place by what looked like a gag, but wasn't. The liquid could now be delivered directly into her stomach. She had long since stopped getting regular meals - the cook would now puree her food in a blender and mix it in with the milk. The richness of the liquid supply had been decreased to prevent her from getting any larger. I didn't want a lump of a woman who couldn't move herself around on her platform at all, however little she could anyway. Her bodily functions had been on automatic for so long that I doubt that she was even aware of pissing and shitting. At least twice a day she would be rolled over to her other side and fastened back in her spread eagle position. Her arm and leg muscles were almost nonexistent now, so she would almost stay spread without the chains, which were really just used for symbolism - there being no possible way for her to escape from the cave, or even just to crawl a few feet.


I had sent Jameel a request for a meeting, using the secure method that I had set up for him. We met at the same club, then in the same park across the street. I gave him pictures of my actress and Ms B. and as much information as I knew about them, including proof that the older one was definitely upper class. I knew that the younger girl, just because she was famous, and beautiful, would be highly desired, but didn't know about the older woman. He commented that the two women He would forward the information to his Uncle and wait for a reply. He also asked for my asking price for the pair.

"Jameel, " I replied. "I don't want money. I don't need it and have too much now. What I am interested in is a trade for something. Maybe girls, maybe something else exotic. As the American vernacular goes, 'Make me an offer I can't refuse.'"

He didn't answer. He was suddenly staring at the picture of the ex-Hollywood star. Then he looked up at me with an incredulous expression that seemed to change by the second from disbelief to awe. First came some expression in Arabic - maybe a curse, maybe an appeal to the gods - I couldn't tell. That language I hadn't started on yet. Then he started to speak, thought better of it, and looked around to make sure that nobody was listening. "You have..." He lowered his voice even more and apparently decided not to say her name. "...this girl?! She didn't die by falling into the ocean? You took her...? ...have her?"

I just smiled. Another unknown exclamation in Arabic. Then, "My Uncle will..." he struggled for a word or phrase, "be inside himself."

"You probably mean, 'beside himself'", I said with a grin.

He looked at me with a wan expression. "I should control myself. All I am doing is driving up the price." He looked around again. "What is your feeoff for these women?

I realized that, in the sudden realization of what he was bargaining for, he had not heard a word I had said about trading instead of money. I restated my desire for some object or objects, not a pile of money for the pair and warned him to be very very careful about who he let see those pictures.

"Otherwise, my friend, you are liable to be to be hauled off to a really bad place to answer questions that you don't have the answers to."


I was sitting in the parlor of Suliman, the courtesan trainer, sipping tea, which I despise, but I had learned early on that my host never touched alcohol. We conversed on many things, none of them pertaining to women, until a woman entered the office, bowed and informed us that Stephanie was in one of the show rooms, waiting. I nodded to Suliman and followed the woman down the hall to a room that was used to allow examination of an item by a client. Inside the room was a naked woman. She was immaculately clean, a vast improvement from the last time I saw her. She had a thin green green scarf around her neck. I realized that the color probably was a code for his employees, probably indicating her status or progress in training. She just quietly stood in the middle of the room, head bowed, and in a sirik. Chains led from her collar to both wrists, which were also hooked with a short chain, then from there to her ankle bracelets. Her ankles were also chained together but with a length to allow her to walk. None of the bindings prevented any normal use of hands and feet - they were just to indicate the status to herself and others that she was a slave - totally. Her earlobes, nipples and pussy lips had rings and jewelry hanging from them.

As the door began to open, she instantly dropped to her knees, head bowed and frozen in place. I walked up to her, then slowly around and just looked for a few seconds, then, taking my clothes off, sat down in a chair in front of her and waited. I was wondering what she would do, but she could have been a marble statue rather than a very desirable middle aged woman. Obviously, the lesson that the days of being a demanding socialite were gone had been well and truly drummed into her skin.

"Look at me," I demanded. She immediately looked up, and her eyes instantly widened as she recognized me. I saw the muscles of her jaw twitch, just before she clamped off the exclamation. Her face stayed blank, but I knew that inside she was raging to ask questions. I just looked her up and down as she looked back, head lowered but eyes still on me. Finally, I spread my knees apart and said, "Address yourself to my pleasure."

Instantly, she rose, moved up to my chair, dropped to her knees again and began to suck. I remembered back to years ago, the first time when she would barely touch my cock with her tongue, and then had to be whipped to make her take it in her mouth. Now, as I sat there trying to hold back my premature orgasm, she demonstrated an knowledge of frenching that I had never felt before, by far - had never even imagined. Cupcake was good at it, but now I knew now that she was a bumbling amateur compared to her Aunt's newly acquired skill.

This chained girl could take my cock all the way down her throat, then with her tongue, tickle the front of my ball sac, then wiggle them to make them swing back and forth sideways. She would use her teeth with just enough pressure to rake the skin of my cock as she withdrew. She would clamp on my rod, just past the circumcised head, and saw her lower teeth sideways back and forth on that extremely sensitive spot just under and back of the head. I suddenly realized that her tongue was pierced, and the device had two different ends - the top had a flat and very rough surface that she would drag up and down the bottom of my cock, almost making me jump out of my skin. The bottom of the device had a stack of tiny round balls, small, medium and large, with the largest next to her tongue. She would curl her tongue up, then insert the little ball stack into the hole in the end of my rod and wiggle while pulling on the head with her lips. I had never felt anything like that before - both pain and pleasure in my never before violated peehole.

Anytime that she detected that I was about to blow, she would switch to just a slow licking or suction till my balls unknotted. Once the danger point passed, she would start again, with a different technique. As I shot off, way too soon, she actually helped pump out the cum by swallowing my pecker whole, then dragging her teeth on it as she pulled out, then again and again until I was empty. And not a drop was seen - she took it all in. As I sat there recovering, I thought about the huge gap between the performance of a an expert amateur and the demonstrated expertise of the absolute master of a skill. And in front of me, now having moved back a few feet and waiting with head bowed, was an master of unbelievable ability.

Once I had decided that the jelly in my legs had firmed up enough to be able to stagger to my feet, I exited the room and headed back to the parlor. I was effusive in my praise of Suliman's services, paid him in full and with a bonus for spectacular results.

"My friend," he said. "Your woman has made remarkable progress in her abilities, but I can assure you that she is only a pale shadow of the actual possiblilities of her profession. To make a proper courtesan, we alway try to start with a girl who has just come from her mother's breasts. For proper training, she needs to be well along in instruction by the time she goes through her female change into a woman."

Wow, was all I thought.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I received a message from Jameel confirming the desire for the purchase of my movie star. Also a request to visit his uncle at his home to negotiate the transaction. That was fine with me, and arrangements were made. Meanwhile, I sat and thought about the population of my dungeon. When Stephanie eventually showed up, I would have too many slaves. Pudgy didn't really count since she was more of a piece of furniture rather than a usable girl, and I didn't have much interest in the boy from a sexual standpoint. I just kept him around as a plaything, plus I was interested in how far I could stretch his ball sac. Chocolate was still my favorite bedwarmer and Coco was an exotic that gave spice to the mix. That left Pancake and Cupcake as ordinary girls and potential sales items.

As I mused over the status of each slave, I walked around the dungeon just looking and talking with Teema. Pudgy was obviously still just stretched out on her back. At intervals, the feed tube would pump in a measured amount of liquid food and swallowing was just automatic. Her piss flowed out as it was produced, and her poop was flushed out automatically once a day without any effort on her part. I wondered about the state of her mind as time flowed by, year by year, after just laying there in the same location, with no stimulation except for what she could see across the cave and no way to communicate with anyone. Did boredom atrophy the mind? Actually there was little she could see - if she was on her stomach, she couldn't hold her head up long and most of the time it just lay down onto the mat. If she was on her back, her entire view was of the ceiling of the cave over her and nothing else. She was manually rolled over twice a day to prevent bed sores, but other than that nobody ever gave her a command - there was nothing that she could do in response to anything, anyway. Did she even notice when the boy or Coco, and very seldom myself, climbed onto her gigantic body and used her pussy? If her gigantic boobs were played with, or the nipples pinched and pulled she seldom reacted, just laying there as her liquid food was delivered. I didn't know and there was no way to ask.

I motioned for the boy to come and stand by my chair. I examined his swinging nuts, now almost to the level of his knees. There were about six inches of stretched scrotum showing between the three weights sitting on his sack of nuts, and bottom of his dick. Interestingly, the huge stretch had no effect on his ability to orgasm, except that he had to be careful not to let them swing into something when he was pumping away. By now, he almost alway fucked a girl from behind with her bent over something because of the fact that if the girl was laying on her back, his nuts would drag back and forth on the bed, or pallet or whatever she was laying on.

For now, my usual play toy or bed warmer was selected from Choclate, Pancake or Cupcake. Once Teema had come accustomed to the lifestyle in my home, I told her in plain terms that she was welcome to any of them for service at any time. She was hesitant at first, but eventually bedded down on occasion with Cupcake - probably since she was the only normal girl in the cave that was close to her age. I assumed that it was Cupcake that was doing the servicing, but it could have been going both ways for all I knew.

NYC and parts east

Jameel met me at our usual watering hole. Only this time we stayed inside and enjoyed the ambiance of the exclusive establishment. I certainly had enough money to become a member of the club, or most any other I wanted, but it just wasn't my thing. For one, every conversation that I overheard had to do with deals, proposals, speculation and other high flying forays into financial details. I just wasn't interested. I had the fortune to get in on gold before it zoomed to its current highs, and I liked the investment because once I bought into gold, gold stocks or such, I could forget them.

He informed me that his Uncle had sent one of his private jets to pick me up. (Apparently every male in the Middle East was an uncle to every other male.) I assumed that a corporate jet would be waiting at the airport, but once we got there, Jameel led me to a huge 767.

"What the fuc... frack," I exclaimed. "How many people are going with us?"

"Just you, my friend," Jameel replied. "He didn't invite me." Up the boarding ramp we went into the plane. I was expecting the normal cavernous insides of a wide body plane, but this one was like Air Force One. All rooms and sleeping quarters. A minion took my bag, and a... flight attendant? came up to us from the back somewhere.

"Good morning, Mr. Al-Fulan." Totally American accent. "Mr. Tatum, I presume?"

"That's me," I replied, still bemused by the idea of traveling alone in this flying boardroom.

Jameel took my hand, and said. "Bonnie can take care of you from here. I'm back to the grindstone." I waved goodbye and he departed down the ramp.

"This way Mr. Tatum. You will be most comfortable in the forward lounge 'till we get airborne." As she led me up the hall she asked, "I have any drink you want. Would you like breakfast? Or a snack?"

"Just coffee, please" as we entered a large cabin with different kinds of loungers scattered all over. Actually, I doubt that scattered was the word, since they were all obviously fastened to the deck and immovable. Someone obviously carefully planned the arrangement. I heard an engine start, and then the other and soon we were taxing out for takeoff. I watched Bonnie as she stowed some stuff up front. Wow. A real dish. Probably early twenties, 5'8", 120 pounds. Big tits, big hips, thin waist, and real blond hair, I thought. She would take about six inch wrist bracelets and about ten inch ones on her ankles. I wondered what her qualifications had be to get this job. Of course, anyone who thought nothing about sending a jumbo jet to pick up one person could have his pick of girls as stewardesses. In an hour, we were high over the Atlantic heading east.

I got up and walked around, just looking. I made sure not to enter any room with a shut door, but there were plenty of other places to visit. I didn't find a swimming pool, but there was plenty of other entertainment to while away the long hours. A movie studio with a gigantic flat screen and more loungers, another viewing room with multiple kiosks with TV's - connected I assume to a master DVD jukebox, or equivalent somewhere. Meeting rooms with long desks, several bedrooms, more rooms with comfortable chairs. It went on and on.

Back in the original lounge, Bonnie brought more coffee and a selection of sweet rolls and snacks. "Anything else, Mr. Tatum?"

"Nope, this will do fine for now. Thank you."

She leaned over to me, her double D's trying to pop the top button that was bravely straining to hold back the flesh. A bra would have helped tremendously. "My instructions are to make sure that I give you anything you want on this flight. Just let be know."

I noticed that the offer wasn't for anything I needed, just anything I wanted. Maybe this flight wouldn't be so long after all.

Some forsaken place in the desert of Saudi Arabia.

A limo about the length and size of a school bus pulled up to the now parked plane. An aide, dressed in standard western business attire, greeted me and escorted me from the blazing asphalt to the delicious coolness of the vehicle. Immediately, we drove down the ramp and out of the airport. Apparently, anyone connected with my host didn't need to worry about minor things like customs or passports. Seventy minutes later, after driving at about ninety miles an hour down the flattest and straightest road I have ever seen, a walled town finally appeared on the horizon.

My guide pointed and said, "That is our destination."

"What town is is," I asked.

"It isn't a town. It is the primary residence of his excellency Abdul Hassan."

Holy shit. From here it looked to be about the size of a small town back in my state. Shortly, we passed through the guarded gate and into the compound. My host's home was a huge mansion in the middle of several dozen acres of outbuildings, water gardens and lawns. Where all the water came from in the middle of the Arabian desert was a mystery to me. We stopped at the front of what appeared to be the main building, and several lackeys immediately appeared to collect my luggage. A fantastically dressed individual approached me and said, "Mr Tatum. I will show you to your rooms where you can rest from your travel." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed back up the marble steps with me following.

The walk though the mansion was like a stroll through a museum. Fantastic displays lined the hall that was wider than most houses - paintings, statuary, glass cases with treasures. Finally, several million dollars worth of displays later, we got to a tall set of double doors, which opened as we approached. Inside was my "rooms." All of which took up about the same area as an entire floor of a major hotel. I turned to my guide for instruction and noticed that he had already disappeared. No matter. In a few moments another servant approached and motioned me into another room - a bedroom. At least, it had a bed on a raised dais, silk curtains everywhere, and gigantic mirrors over several pieces of furniture.

"You will want to bathe, of course. His excellency has requested that you join him for lunch. Dress will be casual." Nobody seemed to care if I replied to anything or not. He clapped his hands and two gorgeous, not quite naked young girls immediately stepped up and began to undress me. Fortunately, Bonnie had drained me totally on the plane as she initiated me into the mile high club, several times, so my rod didn't immediately respond to the unexpected service. Once my underwear had dropped to the floor, they motioned me into an adjoining room with what I assumed to be a huge hot tub installed in the floor. Of course, most standard hot tubs don't come with massive gold fittings and trim in what seemed like acres of beautiful marble floor, but obviously this one was a special order.

As I relaxed, my two sirens proceeded to clean me from top to bottom, literally. I made note of several procedures that I would initiate once I got home to my non-gold enhanced hot tub. In an hour or so, I was squeaky clean all over and wearing fresh clothes that I hoped weren't too casual. I had a set of Seville Row suits if needed, but the lackey had indicated no formalware for lunch.

I was escorted down about a mile of hallway to a small dining room, I supposed. Once again, my guide asked me to wait without bothering with my reply, and left. Shortly, the double doors opened and the Man entered. A middle aged man, dressed in what I assumed were casual clothes of a light robe and headdress. He walked over to me with his hand out.

"Mr. Tatum. My name is Abdul Hassan. I am very glad to meet you." So far so good. A standard meeting. He gestured to the small table. "Please sit down." I did so and as soon as my host assumed his chair, the doors opened and a series of servants entered with drinks, soup and a dozen or so plates of meats and breads. He gestured over the table. "All of this is standard fare, Mr. Tatum. You won't be surprised by something to upset the western palate." I thanked him and he continued. "My threshold of boredom is very low, so I hope you won't be offended if we talk during our meal?"

"Certainly, Sir. I can talk and eat at the same time."

"Mr. Tatum," he began. "We are having this meeting for one reason." Of course - a famous movie star, I thought. I was wrong. "Jameel related your first conversation to me and I decided to transact in person rather than use an associate." What the heck? I tried to remember what I might have said to impress a multibillionaire. "I know that you are a very wealthy person, but you indicated that you had no interest in accumulating more wealth, but wished for something of value in trade. That makes you a rare individual indeed, to finally recognize when the amount of enough has been reached.

I could think of nothing to say in response to the praise, so I just took another drink and waited.

"It is none of my business, but I would be interested to hear how you got into your current, well, shall we say? Line of business?"

I thought for a moment, the decided to give him what he wanted. A billionaire could probably find out as much as he wanted to anyway. I gave him a synopsis of my life from the inheritance of the Hotel to now, just avoiding any mention of the cave. I just let him assume that I had a big basement for my dungeon. During the talk, we adjourned to a roof top lounge over looking the desert through the glass walls. All that could be seen were miles and miles of miles and miles.

Finally, I wound down, and he sat back in thought. "So you are looking for the different, the exotic, something besides the normal female, no matter how subservient." It wasn't a question as much as just a musing statement while he thought. "I am the same way. I collect females of all kinds from all lands. In fact, it has been my only hobby since I inherited my father's estate as a young man." He waved his arm at the vast expanse of desert beyond the glass. "As you might imagine, I have no problem with keeping women here, willing or not. No woman, least of all some civilized female from another country could live for long out there even if she knew how to navigate the desert. The sun by itself would bring her to a cruel end long before nightfall."

"May I ask, has any tried to escape from here?"

"Once, back when I was young and naive, a girl left during the night. We didn't find her for several days, and then only her bones. It has never happened since. My first training session of any new acquisition is to take her out a few kilometers during the day, and turn her loose to walk back to my compound. Some don't even make it that far and we watch for them collapsing from the heat and sun and then are brought back. After that lesson, no female is going to delude herself into thinking that she can walk a hundred and sixty kilometers to a city. Even if she did, no woman can just walk around the streets here without being picked up."

It was middle afternoon. Jet lag was not a problem with me since long ago I had learned to start adjusting my sleeping schedule starting a week or so before I left for the other side of the world. Suddenly he said, "Let us retire for a while. We can continue this conversation at dinner. Mr. Tatum, feel free to avail yourself of any of the females that you find in your suites. There is apparatus available for them if you want." Immediately, from some hidden signal, my original guide entered the room and escorted me back to my quarters.

Another refreshing bath, in which I did some of the cleaning this time on my two bath partners, but didn't "avail" myself of either of the girls - my cojones were still recovering from Bonnie, and I was no longer a teenager. In a couple of hours, I was back in a far larger and much more formal dining room wearing a suit.

When the sumptuous meal was finished, we were back in the observation room. He brought out the packet that I had given his man in New York City and spread the contents over the table in front of us. "Now, Mr Tatum, tell me in detail of the operation in which this female fell into your hands."

With many pauses for his questions, I recited the sequence of events from the time of conception to capture. By the time I was finished, it was night. During the recitation, I watched the sun go down over the far distant dunes - a beautiful sight from the rooftop.

Finally, he suddenly came to the point of my visit. "Mr Tatum, I have selected some items from which a possible trade for your merchandise may be made. Please do not consider yourself to be under any obligation to accept it, or any others. If none are satisfactory, I will make more effort to find a suitable trading item." The door opened and two young girls were escorted in to the room.

I looked as their escort placed them in front of us. Very young, hairless from the neck down, obviously prepubescent. And... identical twins. Very pretty, small but totally firm titties up front - dark but prominent nipples. And, they were connected by about a three foot gold plated chain connecting their neck collars, also gold plated. At a word from their handler, they stood straight up, and spread their legs to the full extent, with hands at their sides. Surhan waved at them, "Please examine them to any extent you want."

I looked at him for a moment, then got up and circled around the two girls. This was going to be a beautiful pair when they matured. I stooped down to examine their smooth pubes and venus mounds. There was a no hint of depilation or shaving, but looking up at their growing breasts, I was puzzled. Girls didn't get tits until they started getting hair.

"Do not be confused with their smoothness. They are indeed past their female change but, like you, I have grown fond of the western look of hairless women." Ah ha, that made them probably fourteen or fifteen years of age. I examined the chain holding them together. When I lifted it, I realized my mistake. It was not gold plated - it was solid gold. Probably twenty or so caret, since the pure metal would be far too weak and soft for strength. Looking at each end of their bonds, I saw no locks or fasteners. Again, Abdul spoke. "The chain is never removed. The two girls have been bound together since they started walking." At my look of incredulity, he continued, "Yes, they have never been further than that length from each other their entire lives. They are of course, virgins." In a while, I was finished with my examination, and their handler towed them out of the room.

In came another man with a girl in sirik, small chains connecting her limbs to her throat collar. Her ears were pierced with gold rings, her pussy lips also had a delightful arrangement of rings. There were golden bands around her upper arms. No barely pubescent kid this time - a young teenage woman with sexuality oozing from every pore. She stopped, and stood in front of us in that timeless female pose with one leg bent, an arm across her midriff and the other held out in the same direction. Large and high tits, thin waist and big hipped. She could probably squeeze the seed from a man like an olive press.

"This woman has been bred to be a bed partner - nothing else. She cannot talk or hear and responds only to sign language. No expense has been spared to train her to pleasure a man to the last ounce of his strength. Submission and service to a man is all she knows." I continued to look at her wide eyed. My rod was taking on a life on its own, and all I was doing was looking. "She has no knowledge of anything outside of this building and has never left it. To her, the world is not a mystery - it doesn't even exist." I again walked around the slave, examining her closely and trying not to let my cock push a hole in my very expensive suit pants.

I sat down as she was led off. Christ on a crutch. I had thought of myself as a top professional purveyor of submissive women. I was beginning to realize that I was just an amateur hobbyist. Jeez. What was next?

The next girl was beautiful, obviously of Oriental extraction, but as far as I could see just an ordinary woman. I had a feeling that I would be disabused of that qualification shortly. I looked over at my host for enlightenment.

"She, also has been trained for service to men, but in a different way. He waved at her handler, who immediately dropped his robe - his only garment other than slippers. A word to the woman and she immediately assumed the doggy position. Her handler dropped to his knees and entered her pussy from behind. Big deal. But, suddenly, leaving her legs and hips in the same position, began to fold her body underneath both of them and brought her head up under her twat and took his balls in her mouth. I felt my eyes trying to bug out. She then continued on the same path to put her tongue in his asshole. A few seconds later she unfolded as I was still watching in disbelief. But she wasn't through. Bending the other way, she bent her back to where she could lick his cock on the top as it stroked in and out of her pussy. She had to have been born without bones.

A while later, as we sat looking at the desert night, Surhan asked, "Would any of those be a satisfactory trade for your catch?"

I almost missed what he had said, as I just sat there thinking over the trio of women I had just seen. And for all I knew, these were inferior culls that he would like to get rid of. "Yes," I said, "Any of them would be more than satisfactory." But which did I want? I hoped I didn't have to decide right then.

"Sleep on it. We will conclude our transaction in the morning." With that, I followed my escort back to my suite.

The Mountaintop

Teema had become really smitten with Cupcake, so I gave orders to have the girl be her body slave while she was my guest. Of course, since Cupcake couldn't leave the dungeon, Teema spent most of her time down there, even sleeping with her on one of the many mats and mattresses around the cave. That just left me with Chocolate, Pancake and Coco. Occasionally I would take the boy from behind. By now he would tolerate either myself or Coco plugging him, but the act would never be one that he cared for.

I had procured some special cock rings for both of my swinging dicks. These were rings that would be placed over the cock and balls, although in the case of Coco with no nut sac, the ring was much smaller and just went around the base of her dick. A long shaft went under their taints then right angled up into the asshole. The shaft ended in a large steel ball. I tried one myself, and was surprised at the erotic feeling it gave. As the wearer moved around, the natural movement of the shaft between the legs would move the ball in the anus, slowly massaging the prostate. Unless the person had been drained recently, it wouldn't take long, especially with Coco, before a spontaneous orgasm would result. Even fucking with it, brought new sensations as it moved around.

To save the boy and two girls the necessity of continually servicing my boy/girl, and to keep from having to lock her up and belted for constantly begging for sex, I gave Coco permission to fuck Pudgy whenever she wanted, and almost every day would see her laying on the huge mass of rippling girl meat, pumping away. As long as it would rub on her cock, Coco had absolutely no discrimination about what she put it into.

I received a call that a certain airplane had landed at the airport in the nearest city. I dosed my actress slave with just enough drug to make her docile, then drove her to the field. There I turned her over to an attendant and watched it begin its journey back to the Middle East. Her acting career in Hollywood was over - a new one was about to start far away.

A message came in that my half of the bargain had arrived at Tarken's for processing. Then another informed me that delivery across town had been and that Suliman had begun the training regimen. And that Stephanie's was coming along fine, also.

Meanwhile, I thought about the final subject that Abdul had sprung on me. I was still somewhat stunned at the audacity of his request. After agreeing on the final details of our trade, and just a few hours before I left, he called me into his study. He handed me a photo. I took it and looked - it was a stock shot of a movie actress, one of the highest paid and most successful in Hollywood. Middle thirties, big boobed and big lipped - a real knockout.

I admired the photo for a few seconds then looked at my host for an indication of what...

"Holy shit." That was out loud. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Why not just ask me to drive up to the back of Fort Knox and load up my pickup with gold bars before anyone notices?

"You aren't serious?"

"Mr. Tatum," he began. "I am not suggesting any course of action for you. I just wish to point out that upon delivery of this person, I would reciprocate beyond your wildest dreams."

I looked back at the picture, then back at my host. "Mr. Hassan. My usual delivery consists of high class women who had been seeking a service in total anonymity and secrecy. Because of those that, the actual capture of them is no risk and dead easy. Even the young star that is now yours got into her predicament because of a desire to hide her drug and alcohol use. But..." I waved the picture, "...this woman is as hard to approach as the Pope. I can't even imagine the situation that would allow her to disappear."

"I am not placing an order. Just mentioning a possible future possibility."

I continued to think about that as I flew back to the US. In fact, I couldn't get it out of my mind. Totally ridiculous, of course. I wasn't running a Mission Impossible team. In fact, I didn't even get into the permanent slave business until I was made to by my first two girls and then had to continue with several others in a defensive move.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I was anxious to get Stephanie back into my possession. If, as Suliman had claimed, that she was an inferior specimen of the class of Courtesan, I would love to try the real thing. But from the little that I had experienced, I expected that she would do for me. Suliman wanted to keep her another year at least, but agreed that her training could be interrupted for a while. Supposedly she was on the way.

I had received a massive offer for Coco thru Tarkan, but so far it didn't tempt me.

Teema was an excellent teacher. How many dudes are fortunate enough to receive language lessons from a beautiful, raven haired vixen, who walked around all day wearing nothing but a tittie support halter? By now, I had a fairly good command of both languages - I wouldn't pass for a native by a long shot, but unless the conversation was about some highly technical subject, like programming, I could chat with no problems.

I walked upstairs to check on my current client, Mrs. B. She had developed a movie fetish. She had been intensely searching the almost hundred year output of Hollywood for situations that heroines got themselves into. The only reason that she wasn't hauled off into the wilds of the Ozarks by a giant gorilla, is because I didn't know where to rent one. Her latest episode was one in which she was stretched out vertically in a spider's web made of rope. She actually brought me a clip of the grade b jungle movie that she found it in.

So I made the web, hoisted her up into it, and every place that a strand of the web crossed a part of her body, she was tied to it with smaller ropes - probably 30 or more. Of course, she was tightly gagged. She would have preferred some genuine natives to torture her, but I couldn't find any who were available. But, to alleviate the tedium as the hours went by, I would enter the room occasionally and try to take her mind off of her predicament. Usually with the whip. Possibly she might have preferred the tedium, but unfortunately she was unable to communicate her wishes to me while stuck in the spider's trap.

I looked at the clock. Because of the card she had drawn before her "capture", she still had 7 hours to go. I suspected that she would be glad when she was finally "rescued."

She had no idea how close she had come to now be living in a dessert sheikdom. Fortunately for her, my last customer had been so taken with the idea of a famous movie star that he had no interest in an unknown woman, no matter how desirable. Finally, I fingered around down below for a while then left her hanging.

I wondered how often the actress (that I was beginning to think of as Madam X) left town on vacation or other reason. Then I told myself to stop it - enough already!

Teema and I had dinner in the dungeon that night. As Pancake turned away after serving I noticed several red whelps on her back. "Come back here," I demanded. She knelt at my chair. "Why are you wearing stripes on your back?"

With her head down, she replied, "The Mistress found a girl unsatisfactory, Master." I looked questionably at Teema.

"Twice she countermanded my instructions to Cupcake," she answered. "Then she talked back to me when I tried to ask her about it."

'Hmmmm," I said. Then called, "Coco! Chocolate!" I motioned them over to our table, then pointed to Pancake. "Take this bitch and string her up at the whipping posts. Tight!"

Pancake fell forward and put her head on the floor. "Mercy Master. A girl is very sorry."

Smiling, the two girls grabbed an arm each and frog marched Pancake to the twin posts, hooked up the chains, then pulled to tighten them until her feet left the floor.

We went back to eating, with Cupcake now in the serving roll. I was relating to Teema the sights and pleasures that I had found at the courtesan training center in Turkey. She was interested and continued to ask me to expand on what I had seen. Finally, I told her about the trip to the desert and the trade that I had made with Suliman.

Once dinner was over, I walked over to where Pancake was hanging. "Why did you disobey a free person," I demanded.

Pancake was considerably thinner than the day she came into the cave as a fairly chubby swell, but she was in no way a skinny female. By now her weight on her arms and wrists was beginning to reach the very painful level. "A girl didn't mean to, Master. A girl is very sorry. A girl will...

"I didn't ask you how you felt about the matter," I interrupted harshly. "I want to know why acted as you did."

She looked up at her straining wrists, futilely trying to shift her weight to relieve some of the pain. "A girl thought that Cupcake needed more instruction, Master. A girl will never never let it happen again."

I stepped behind her and selected a leather strap. "Good," I replied. "I'm glad that a cunt has recognized her mistake." I reached around with my left hand and bobbled a tittie for a few seconds. "This should help you to remember." With that I stepped back and laid the leather across the broad stretch of her upper back. For the next few minutes the cave rang with the screams of the tormented female. Finally, leaving her limp and hanging, I dropped the whip on the table and walked back to my office area. I had just thought of an idea that needed some input about Ms. X.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

A delivery truck arrived a few mornings later, and deposited a crate in my garage. Inside was my long away Stephanie, unconscious. I dollied the crate into the house. Teema was looking into the box with interest. "So this is the woman who got you started." Together we pushed the crate on its side and the limp woman sort of flowed halfway out. I pulled her out onto the carpet, and waited for Teema to lock a collar and bracelets on her. Then I threw her over my shoulder and carried her upstairs to my bedroom. Shortly, a chain was attached to her new collar and we left her sleeping on the bed.

I drove over the state line to the Fixer's new office. "Nice," I commented as I walked across the ankle deep carpet to his massive rosewood desk. "I have to think that business is good."

He was in an excellent mood. "Well, it could be better, but I'll try not to complain too much. How is your... latest acquisition?"

"Already gone. I told you I didn't want her for pussy. She was a trading card for something else." I accepted a drink from his extensive bar. "That is why I'm here. I need another like her." We sat down and he waited. "This next one I have no idea how to acquire. I'm not even in the early planning stages, yet. All I need now is data." I handed a picture to him.

The reaction didn't take long. "God almighty damn! Son of a bitch!" He looked up at me with a slightly stunned expression. "Man, when you decide to do something, you don't just fuck around, do you?"

"Relax," I said. "This is a long way from an operation. There is an excellent chance that there may be no way to do it in reasonable safety. For now, I just need a scout. A very discreet one." I pushed an envelope across the desk. "These are some of the questions I want answered, and anything else that he can find out. Anything and everything," I emphasized. "If she loves green ice cream, I want that data. If some acquaintance hints that she hates white toilet paper, write it down. Who do you have?"

He sat back in his executive chair, steepled his fingers and thought for a moment. "This is going to take a professional weasel. Harry Ballard would be the best, but he's doing a nickel for a blown scam - not his fault, just bad luck. Stigger would be good in the east, but with his accent he would stick out on the west coast like a sardine in a punch bowl. Probably one of the Simpson brothers or maybe Doggert." He leaned forward. "I'll see who's available."

I reached down and picked up a small brief case and pushed it over to him. "Get someone started - whoever you think is best. Let me know when this runs out." He popped it open and looked at the stacks of hundred dollar bills for a few seconds, then set it under his desk.

He shook his head. "If I had known years ago that pussy was this valuable, I would have never started bookmaking."

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I assumed that by the time I got back, Stephanie would be awake. Teema and I climbed the stairs to the bedroom, and while I waited inconspicuously in the hall, she entered to check. She was awake. Stephanie immediately dropped to her knees, holding her hands on her thighs, and with her head bowed. Teema walked to the front of the kneeling girl and stood looking for a few seconds. Then she said, "Look at me, slave." Stephanie immediately looked up. "My name is Teema. You will call me Mistress. I am the ward of your Master." I slowly stepped into the room and moved to a position behind the slave girl as the instructions continued.

"Your Master has spent a small fortune on your training, and I hope it wasn't wasted. Forget the casual acquaintance that you enjoyed with him in your former life. Right now, your only value is in the pleasure that you can give him. Remember this, above all else." She - Teema - looked at me and I realized that she was really enjoying herself. "The moment that you cease to please him, you will be shipped right back to the slave pens that you started in, and you will be sold. And with your age, the best you can hope for is a camel breeder or a shop keeper of trinkets. You won't be sleeping in a warm bed under clean sheets."

She patted the side of Stephanie's cheek with the crop. "Any transgression of your proper actions, and I will handle your punishment. And, since I am a woman, I know how to make another female hurt much more than any man ever could." I tried to keep from smiling, even though Stephanie couldn't see me. This little girl was really coming across like a dominatrix. And, I knew that the only punishment that she had ever handed out, besides some love taps on Cupcake, was a fairly mild whipping of Pancake.

She pointed to the bathroom. "Now, get in the water closet and prepare yourself to service your Master, and hope that he finds you satisfactory." Stephanie immediately jumped to her feet, and dragging her neck chain behind her, ran into the bathroom and immediately started the water.

We both left her for downstairs. When well out of earshot, I complimented her. "All you need is some tight black leather clothes and a whip and you can have all the submissive men you want. That was quite a performance."

Back in the cave at my desk, I sat thinking about the thing that I kept trying to keep myself from thinking about. How do you abduct a female who is rich, famous and lives behind layers of probably very mean guards? I had no idea. Teema knew what I was doing, and left me alone. I knew that she had something on her mind, but I was willing to wait until it formed up enough to tell me.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

That evening it was time to see what all that money had bought. Stephanie had been fed well with a meal bought up by Teema, and was kneeling on a thick rug at the foot of my bed. I stood in the doorway and looked at the woman who got me started as a successful businessman and now a multimillionaire. She was beautiful, kneeling on the rug, hands on her thighs, head bowed with her now long hair tied in a ponytail with a piece of green silk.

I climbed on the huge bed, lay down in the middle and said, "Now, slave. Come and pleasure me." The session can't be described, only experienced. Unlike a normal American girl who would have immediately jumped on the bed, sucked on my cock for a few moments, then shoved it in her twat, that didn't happen. Instead, Stephanie slowly got to her feet, walked around the bed and deliberately climbed on to the mattress and scooted up to my side. Raising up on her knees, she spread her legs and reached down with three fingers of one hand, used the two outside fingers to spread her lips and the middle to stroke up and down her exposed crack. Just for a few seconds. Then back down on her haunches, she reached out and lightly moved the same hand up and down my midriff. A finger traced a line lower, toward my cock, then missed it as the touch continued down the side of my ball sack, under it and up the other side. Meanwhile her other hand started to trace lines around my neck up up around my ears. As I concentrated on what she was trying to do up there, all the while watching her beautiful titties sway back and forth, a finger and thumb lightly grabbed hold of the skin between my balls and asshole and pinched. Then the finger traced around my hole, lightly and without touching the ass star itself.

At this point she hadn't even touched any sexual part of my body and I was rock hard and rutting already. Her technique was to get my attention on some mild action with one hand and then suddenly touch, pull or pinch in an unexpected location. She reached up and pulled on the top of my ear to stretch it fairly hard. Then the other - it actually felt pretty good, like a session with a massage therapist. Suddenly, a fingernail traced the seam of my ball sac, from the bottom and up the underside of my cock, then stopped at the sensitive area just south of the head, and stroked it firmly with the edge of her nail. At this point, it was all I could to to keep from rolling her over and jamming my rod into her.

After a few seconds of this, she slowly leaned over and dragged her tongue over a nipple. I suddenly realized that she still had the tongue piercing installed. My nipples are no more sensitive than any other man's, but this got my attention. Then the other one. Suddenly I stiffened as a finger began to circle my asshole, almost but never quite entering. As my attention moved to that new location, her head began to move south and the sensation that I had only felt once before came back as she pushed the lower part of her piercing into my peehole and moved her tongue in a orbiting circle, all the while using her teeth to do something with the head. I could see my nuts almost totally withdrawn into my body and knew that I was going to shoot big time in just a few seconds.

Then she stopped, sat back and looked off into the distance, as her hands absently massaged her breasts and nipples. As the danger of blowing cum all over my chest passed, she again lightly ran her fingers at random up and down my body. Once she saw that my nuts had dropped back out of the cocked position, she shifted around, and leaned over my legs. More delicate tracing with her fingernails on my legs. Legs on a man are not erotic - the idea is ridiculous. But my nervous system didn't know that. The touch was absolutely unique and... and... God, she must have been made to study nerve endings and pressure points in detail. She knew every one of them. As she got to my feet, she bent over and started on my toes with her tongue piercing, and just casually moved her knees apart so that I could look up her cunt. My legs were quivering with the stimulation.

So much for your threat, Teema. Hell would freeze over before I sold this woman to anyone. I had been laying there for just a few minutes and would now have gladly fucked a knothole. And she done very little yet that could have been called erotic. If she ever gets around to fucking, I may not survive the night, I thought.

A hand came back, did a three finger spread on her pussy, and a few strokes up and down the inside again. Just for a few seconds. I was about to blow again.

She stopped her action on my feet, slowly straightened up, swung back around and again began tracing my body again as my nuts slowly began to return downward. Then, for the first time, she looked me in the eyes, brought her hand to her pussy, inserted the middle finger in and stirred it around. I assumed that it was for the visual effect again, which was ungodly erotic, but it was actually to get it lubed. She slowly bent over my midriff, then suddenly took my cock all the way into her throat, and at the same time immediately inserted her lubed finger in my ass, and began to vigorously massage my prostate. It was like suddenly being hit with an electric prod - but one that had been ordered from a website in heaven. In milliseconds I erupted, thrashing my body in all directions as I pumped the load into her throat. She withdrew to just where her lips covered the head, then with her free hand began to jack my dong to get the maximum feeling during the orgasm.

Then I just fell back, exhausted, soaking wet and limp. I had blown so hard that my nuts were actually aching. I looked at Stephanie beside me - she had resumed her waiting position of kneeling with her hands on her thighs and her head bowed. This was the woman whose knowledge of sex when I had first met her, consisted entirely of laying on her back with her legs spread so her husband could get off.

"That was very good, slavegirl," I commented.

"'Ank you, Math'her. A girl is pweased." The piercing in the tongue was causing her to lisp. I got up for a bathroom break, and when I returned she had resumed her position on the rug.

"A girl will stay in this room for now. She may use the bathroom and sleep whenever she wants. Understood?"

"Yesss Math'her."

I stripped the wet sheets off the bed, got two others and spread them out - not making the bed, just laying them over it. I lay down and said, "Come here and lay down, slavegirl."

Again, "Yesss Math'her." She lay down beside me, I turned her over facing away, turned out the light and began to explore her long absent body, from her full titties and down to her crack and holes. It had been a long time and I had missed her. She still felt wonderful, even with my empty and aching nuts and no pressure to have her at the moment.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

The next morning, I ordered breakfast for Stephanie and asked Teema if I could borrow Cupcake for the morning. Stephanie's residing in my upstairs bedroom was only temporary, but I needed to decide just how and when I wanted to take her into the dungeon. She had never been there before because there was always in the back of my mind that I might have a reason to free her for a while. That reason was gone - she was now as permanent a slave as any that I ever had.

Cupcake came up to me holding a tray of food. I picked up a long collar chain then ordered her to follow me upstairs. I had her wait outside and around the corner, took the tray of food, entered my bedroom and set it on the dresser. Stephanie was in her holding position on the rug and I ordered her into the bathroom and told her to wait. I called Cupcake in and sat her on my bed, connecting the chain that I had brought to her collar and to the same ring that the new slavegirl was hooked to. She was definitely puzzled as to what was going on.

Then into the bathroom where I told Stephanie, "Your breakfast is on the dresser. Until I come back after while, you may talk and act normally." I turned and exited to the hall, where I paused for a moment to listen.

First there was a gasp - from which one I don't know - then a loud "AUNTIE!," a rattle of chains and then nothing but two women sobbing and trying to talk at the same time. I left them to reunite and headed back to the dungeon.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

A huge packet arrived by special courier. It was from the scout in California. He had taken my instructions to heart - there was a detailed day by day description of Madam X's doings and goings. I studied it for hours, but absolutely nothing was that that suggested any way to successfully gather her in. I gave orders to continue the surveillance with a bonus if he came up with something that I could use.

Mrs N came for a session for two days. That in itself was a problem. I was so smitten with Stephanie that I almost couldn't get it up for my client. I put the butterfly and anus vibrators on her and ran them on low for hours as she desperately tried to come as she hung in chains, but couldn't until the end of the day when I turned them up to full. As she was reaching her climax, I took her from behind, pumped away and simulated an orgasm on my part. But she was so consumed with her own, that there was no danger of her realizing that my act was phony.

That evening, I took Stephanie into the dungeon for the first time. I assumed that she was awed like everyone else when she first saw it, but her training kept her from expressing anything at all. I chained her to my dungeon bed and put a thick rug at the foot for her to kneel on. Calling Pancake over, I informed her that this was my personal slave, and she was not to be disciplined by anyone but me. And that she was damned sure not to be touched by anyone else. That night I closed the privacy curtains that had seldom ever been used, laid down and let her work on me again. This time she did an entire repertoire of different actions for an hour before she laid back and I entered her, by now almost blind with lust. Once again, my load came out with a force that totally precluded any further sex that night - there wasn't a drop of cum left in my body.

The next morning, both Teema and Cupcake asked to be allowed to talk with the new girl. I assumed that Cupcake just wanted to continue to converse with her Aunt, but had no idea what Teema's interest was.

While they were talking, I sat at my desk and went over the intelligence packet once again.

Several days went by. Stephanie continued to just kneel all day on her rug unless she was eating or doing bodily maintenance - or working on my body. I had realized that this girl was like a very rich, very expensive box of candy from an exclusive chocolatier - as wonderful as it tasted, continual gorging on it would soon bring me to the point of not being able to stand the taste. I would ration my use of her to once a week. Meanwhile, she couldn't just spend her days kneeling on a rug. For one thing, the lack of physical exercise was bad, and for another the lack of exercise for her mind would be just as debilitating.

I had Teema inform her that, unless I was nearby, she could talk to and mingle with the other occupants of the cave. She would only kneel on her rug in the evenings when I was getting ready for bed, until I indicated that I did or didn't want her that night. After that, unless Cupcake was engaged in service to Teema, the two women would sit and talk for hours. Eventually, Pancake joined them on occasion for a girly talk session. But as soon as I approached, the new girl would immediately drop to her passive stance and kneel there as long as I was near. I wondered just what the training that she had received actually consisted of. They had taken a upscale, self assured, strong willed woman and had completely replaced her personality to become totally pliant and submissive.

Teema, I noticed, would send the other girls away, and, with Stephanie kneeling before her, converse with the slave for long periods of time. Interesting.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

More information came from the west coast. Again, I went through it with a fine toothed comb and came up with nothing. She went to work, made a picture or two, went to upscale parties, flew to Europe a few times, was learning to fly for some reason, and generally acted like a rich movie star. One thing she didn't do, was go anywhere alone.

I could tell that something was on Teema's mind and almost asked her a few times, but decided to wait till she wanted to fill me in.

Mrs T. scheduled for another session. She still hadn't made the decision to become a full timer, so the branding iron was still out. As I opened her reservation email, I wondered what it would be this time - burning at the stake? Buried alive? Nailed into a box and then have spikes driven into it? She had a desire for punishment that was just barely this side of a death wish. Nope, just a normal session, for her, of horrendously painful bondage and whipping.

Even though I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about Madam X. I thought up and rejected one ridiculous plan after another. Some where barely feasible, some were science fiction.

She flew to Europe on occasion. If I had the plane hijacked, she would be out of range of her normal bodyguards. It wasn't a totally impossible idea. I knew that, despite all the bullshit coming out of the security bureaucracy, any plane can be hijacked whenever someone or some organization wants to make the effort. All of the metal detectors, scanners, no fly lists and the myriad other aspects of the so called security that made flying by air today to be an excruciatingly horrible experience would have no effect on a real set of perpetrators.

But, once the plane was taken, then what? If it was a Hollywood thriller, no problem - just find a deserted Carribean island with an old airstrip long enough to take an intercontinental jetliner. The problem is - there aren't any. Any tropical island big enough for even a helicopter pad, has at the very least a billionaire mansion in the middle of it.

Ok, fly it back into the country at a low enough level to avoid radar. Very unlikely - the hijackers would probably find an escort of fighters alongside before they even approached land. Besides, the sight of a massive jetliner flying low over the countryside was going to have the 911 lines lit up like Christmas tree lights.

Fly it to some other country? Still the problem of those pesky fighters.

Anyway, that operation would totally fly in the face of my idea of low level, almost unnoticeable operations. Every crime unit in the world would be working balls to the wall to find out who took a planeload of people on an unscheduled intercontinental jaunt.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Teema approached me one morning and asked for a talk. Ah ha, I thought. Now I find out where her female mind has been playing in the last month or so.

She sat down, looked around apparently marshaling her thoughts. Finally, she started. "May I ask if the training that you sent Stephanie to, was satisfactory in your opinion."

What the hell was this leading to? "Teema, you are a female and there is no way that I can explain to a woman the significance of that training. But believe me when I say that I have had sex with many women - beautiful women, plain women, skilled women, all kinds - but Stephanie's level of expertise is so far above that of any other woman that I have had... Well, let me just say that after her, the idea of having an ordinary women is sometimes almost repugnant."

"So you consider her to be an expert, now," she asked.

I shook my head. "Far, far beyond expert. Chocolate is a natural expert. She is an absolute delight in bed, and before Stephanie came back, I considered her to be the best I ever had. But even she doesn't approach Stephanie's training - by far." I waited. She seemed to be mulling things over.

She began again. "Have you ever thought of, well, offering a training service like Stephanie went to?

"How?" I asked. "And why?" I was trying to figure out where she was going with this. "I have no idea of the training that she got, much less how to give it. Besides, why would I do it? Not for the money, certainly."

"You have told me that you are wanting to get out of the rich female business, as you call it. This would be one that is different, and new. It would be for submissive women, yes, but not necessarily for bondage and torture." She stopped and waited for response.

"Keep going."

"Men would bring their wives or girlfriends to be trained like Stephanie. It would be expensive. Besides, if you stop with the bondage business are you just going to retire? I don't see you doing that at your age."

I was amused at her idea of a new sex service business. It was ridiculous, but at least this was a girl who was thinking of the future, not just sitting around watching TV, eating bonbons and waiting for her inheritance. "I'll tell you what. Make me a detailed business plan on hows, wheres and whys of what you are thinking about, and I will consider it." Very unlikely, but nothing would be hurt for her to dream.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Mrs T had been bent over a rack for hours, with her arms pulled up behind her almost to her collar. Her head was in the stocks at the end of it and she had a maximum gag under a tightly laced up leather whole head mask. Of course, her legs were spread out at the maximum width and I had inserted a fairly large ass spreader. Her waist was encircled with a steel strap holding her midriff tightly to the rack. She couldn't even wiggle or make a sound, no matter how much punishment she was given.

I asked Teema if she wanted to see a real bondage session and she jumped at the chance. I warned her that it was not play - especially with this woman. As she inspected the bound woman, I could tell that her previous idea of bondage and discipline games was way off of what she was seeing. I selected a wide leather strap from my vast collection, stepped up beside Mrs T, and with all my strength, laid it across her back. At the loud crack of the impact, Teema jumped back with wide opened eyes, then looked back and forth from me to the red stripe on the captives back. She gulped, but knew not to say anything, although the bound woman would have been unable to hear anything below a shout. Five more lashes followed, at thirty second intervals, but all that the victim could do to indicate pain was to clinch and unclinch her fists.

As we left the woman to her pain, Teema was breathing hard and still had wide open eyes. As we entered the passageway down, she finally said, "I don't... I didn't know... I had no idea that your games were so... so... violent."

"Actually," I answered, "very few are that severe. Some women just get tied up, and some ask for a little stinging from a whip - no more than they would give a misbehaving child." I shook my head. "She's a special case - very unusual." I went on to give Teema some history on Mrs T and her almost psychotic desires for pain.

Teema shook her head. "She actually wanted you to HANG her? By the neck? For real?" She gave an exclamation that I didn't recognize, even though we were both speaking Arabic - in fact, we seldom spoke English unless we were talking to one of the other occupants of the cave. "I am... I mean..." She stopped for a second. "I have a habit of considering myself to be a woman of the world - I need to remember that I am just a young ignorant female who has traveled a lot."

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Pudgy had long since stabilized her weight - at least, she didn't visibly gain any more. Except that her eyes seemed to indicate intelligence, I really didn't know if she was still home, or if just her body was left as a huge fleshy blob, used every day by Coco and on occasion by the boy. I had ceased to use her - her external sexual parts where so expanded that my dong was not long enough to even enter her slit far enough to get much stimulation.

The boys nuts had pretty well stopped stretching. The rate of stretching had slowed in proportion to the distance that his balls were above the level of his knees. But he had the longest pair of any that I could find on the Internet.

Pancake, Cupcake and Stephanie had sort of a girls day out talk session most every day. On occasion, Coco or Chocolae would join in, but their limited experience in life left them with little to talk about, and much of what was conversed about by the other girls went completely over their heads. On occasion, with my permission, the four original girls would have a foursome that they thoroughly enjoyed. Of course, Stephanie was not allowed to participate.

I never saw Teema use either Coco or the boy. I wasn't sure if she was totally gay, or just didn't find them attractive. She did avail herself of her bondmaid, Cupcake. Many was the night when I saw my big boobed slave busy with her tongue between Teema's legs. On occasion, they went the other way, also.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Madam X had a chalet in Europe that she visited several times a year. I spent some money having that reconnoitered, but it was obvious that due to the paparazzi, who were even more obtrusive and obnoxious over there than here, the odds of finding her in a vulnerable situation were just about zero.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Teema was ready to present her business plan. I assumed that she would build a PowerPoint presentation, but instead, she had an old fashioned set of big flip sheets, and a white board. She asked permission to have Stephanie standing by to answer actual questions. I said yes, and she was kneeling close to us in the usual head bowed, hands on thighs position that she assumed every night at bed time.

I sat down at my desk and got comfortable. I waved my open hand at her. "You have the floor."

She flipped the blank page up and over, which displayed a chart. "Ok. In a nutshell, this would be a place where a man would bring a woman to be trained in the art of sex. As we discussed before, it could be either boyfriends or husbands. But it also occurred to me, that a single woman could... uh... enroll herself for the same training." I nodded. I hadn't thought of that. "The entry to this school would be totally voluntary - that is, no 'student' would be accepted against her will. However, once the training has started, she would no longer have the option of quitting. For protection against future problems, both of the partners would be vidoed agreeing to the specific training."

She stopped. "So far so good," I said. "Keep going." I could see several potential stumbling blocks, but I would let her either see or overlook them.

"The facilities wouldn't have to be large, but since it would hold a certain number of women for a considerably amount of time, it would have to be run somewhat like a hotel. The girls themselves could be used for cleaning - probably as a punishment exercise - but a kitchen and a staff would be required. As would some security. A certain number of young men would need to be hired, or procured in some way, as training objects. Some female trainers would have to be trained also."

She talked and showed drawings of her idea of a business center for sex. About an hour later she was wrapping up.

She was doing fine so far. I didn't see any major flaws in her reasoning. I put in my two cents worth. "It would have to be a secret location. With my business, only one person is involved and only that person knows what she is doing. But with this, there are two people who are in on it. And after a few weeks, the husband or boyfriend is going to be ungodly horny, and is going to want to visit his significant other for a piece of ass." I thought that over for a few seconds. "Driving wouldn't work - anybody could eventually work their way back. Are you going to fly them there in a small plane? To a location with no roads?" I shook my head. "This would have the Achilles heel like my current setup. Since everybody is a willing participant, it isn't exactly illegal, but the instant that it becomes known to the public, you are out of business." Something was trying to trigger in the back of my mind, but it just wouldn't come to the surface.

She pointed to an item on one of her charts. "My idea was for it to be overseas - some third world country where it could be totally inaccessible by the other party." She pulled out a world map and pointed. "Maybe here, or here, or maybe here."

I had two trains of thought going, and they just wouldn't share the same track. I heard her reply, but was still trying to listen to the rumbling the background of my mind. I shifted back to the present. "You haven't explained just how get a person who knows the training procedure. Hire them away from Suliman?"

She looked at me for a long moment. "No, I plan to have you contract to have me trained at the same place. When I came back, I would know exactly..." she tailed off at my sudden expression, of... something!

"SAY WHAT!?" In English this time. I saw the others across the dungeon look around in alarm at my sudden shout. "Do you have any idea of what you are saying?" I didn't know whether to yell, stomp away, shit or go blind. "Do you realize that any girl that goes in that place, will use and be used by multiple men every day? And in every possible way? Including some that I bet you don't even know exist?"

"Yes, I know what Step..." She stopped as I steamed on.

"Your Uncle asked me, on my honor and in the bonds of friendship, to take you under my protection. I would be repaying his trust in a very poor way if I sent his niece to a sex factory. Forget it. No!"

"Please. Just let me tell..."

"No! Conversation over. It ain't gonna happen." I got up and walked away, still in shock. I decided to go upstairs and watch TV or something till I calmed down. I got about halfway to the passageway when, for the second time in my life, the lightbulb above my head turned on to blinding intensity." I stopped, frozen in place, furiously thinking of some item that was in one of the intel packets on my desk.

Chapter 6 (added: 03/27/2011)

A City

I sat across the disk from the Fixer as he read though my list of requirements. From his office, one would get the impression that he was a very successful CEO of a large corporation. That wasn't far from the truth, although his company didn't trade on any exchanges anywhere.

He set the papers down. "I don't see any major problem, but this has to be done through several intermediaries, just for our protection. When she disappears, there is going to be hell to pay." He tapped the paper. "Even if your plan works to disguise the ending."

"The pilot is going to be the tough one," he continued. "And the most expensive. You're probably going to have to pay for him to disappear overseas for five years or so." He let out a long breath. "If your plan blows up anywhere, not only is the bill for hell going to be large, so is the breakfast that hell is going to come to."

"The main problem is," I answered, " that she will probably finish up in a month or so. That is all the time we have, or I have to come up with another scheme. And this one was hard enough."

"Ok. I'll start on it today. Get your wallet dusted off. This is going to be expensive, win or lose."

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I apologized to Teema for blowing up when she gave me her idea of entering the equivalent of a sex academy. She accepted it and asked if we could discuss it further. I warned her that I had not changed my mind, but feel free to give her side of the argument. She went off to marshal her thoughts.

Back at my desk, I attempted to refine my plan. The only sticky part was getting the inside person on the job. After that, it should unwind like a piece of string. Madam X, the young movie star target, was taking private pilot lessons at a small airport well inland. It must have been for personal gratification - she certainly had more than enough money to rent or buy a plane of any size if she wanted to use that means to escape the paparazzi. Thanks to the weasel that I had hired, I knew more about the flying school than the owners. They had two pilot instructors, I knew. They were the key.

The equipment and vehicles were already procured, as were the personnel - courtesy of the Fixer - and I put the plans back on the shelf, so to speak, to sleep on them.

At the end of Mrs T's last session, she had finally indicated that she was ready to try some permanent bondage - actually permanent was my plan for her - she thought of it as long term. As she said, her life away from the mountain had turned into nothing but a boring waiting exercise until her next session. She had been liquidating her assets and placing them into movable assets - but therein lay a problem. Certain distant relations, waiting in the background for her demise so that they could inherit, had petitioned the court to prevent her from selling her estate, on the grounds that she was obviously becoming senile. Why else would a woman in her late forties be wanting to dispose of a house that had been in the family for... twenty years? The petition was weak and obviously self serving and did not present an obstacle that couldn't be easily overcome, although in the nature of things, it took quite a bit of time.

Mrs N was on an extended tour overseas. I toyed with the idea of having her taken while there. It would solve the problem of her disappearing from the same city that two others had vanished from. But I had too many portions on my plate at the moment to dish out another one. Besides, there was no way to plan that type of operation - it would have to be a target-of-opportunity job.

Good news came in. The two instructors at the flying school had received lucrative offers elsewhere and had given notice. More of my money gone.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Teema and I were having a civilized conversation about something that I was adamantly against, i.e. her enrolling in the Courtesan school in Turkey. I had to admit that she had marshaled some good, if not telling arguments.

"I will always be grateful for your protection and support when I was - am - vulnerable to my relatives. But when I came here I was a minor of seventeen. I am now eighteen and as far as the laws in your country are concerned, I am of age. Correct?

I had to admit that it was so.

"So, I could leave here at any time." She smiled. "Unless you collar me and chain me to Pancake's kitchen over there."

"I might do it, if I think you are going to do something stupid," I replied, not entirely as a joke.

She continued with a... what? quizzical look. "I don't know that I would be all that unhappy if you DID chain me to your bed, although I would be poor replacement for Stephanie." She paused. "Anyway, I understand that your reluctance to allow me to do this thing, is because of your friendship with my Uncle. And I appreciate that. But you are focusing on the training that I would go through, instead of the reason for my going through it."

I shook my head. "Teema, I know exactly why you want to, and I think it could be a lucrative and very interesting business, but..." I thought about how to say what I knew to be true. "You think that the school would be an intensive set of lessons in how to pleasure a male. Thats correct as far as it goes. But you will come out as a different person - totally. Instead of a woman who knows how to train others in the art, you will BE a woman who only wants to pleasure men. Totally changed. Teema mark II. No matter how much you resist the change, you WILL change into a real courtesan."

"Is that so bad?" she asked.

That took me aback. "Well..." I didn't know what to say.

"How about if we tell my Uncle what I want to do and why. That relieves you of the responsibility and places it on him. At any rate, if I want to do this, in two years I will have the money and nobody can stop me."

I gave in, a little. "Let me get this current operation finished, then we'll talk about your options."

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

The main cornerstone in my plan was laid successfully. Our own instructor pilot had been accepted with gratitude for employment by the flying school. They were desperate to fill the holes that suddenly appeared in their school roster. He was now to act as a normal instructor and await orders. Also to inform his intermediary if any other potential instructors applied for work.

There was no way that I would be able to bird dog this operation like the last one. It would happen too fast and cover too much ground. And the ground that it passed over was going to be inspected to the last inch once the authorities were called in.

The other teams were in place, waiting.

For the safety of myself and the Fixer, the show was being run by a coordinator unconnected in any way to the Fixer's operation. He assured me that if it blew up, that at least two links between it and us would evaporate, leaving no trail back to the middle of the country.

Updates came via throw away cell phones, of course. But not while I was on the mountain. That pesky GPS feature was a definite pain for businessmen who wanted to remain anonymous. I checked in at a hotel a state away as the operation ramped up.

A hotel somewhere in a city

Ring. "Hello?" "Alpha."

The operation was rolling. Madam X had showed up for a lesson. I checked out of the hotel, paying cash and accepting the paperwork with the secured credit card information. It was a good card, just had a different name than the other IDs in my wallet. There was a huge mall just down the road. I drove there, walked inside and sat down at a coffee clutch.

I watched the girls stroll past, measuring each one for a collar and bracelets. There was one babe at two tables over that I would have loved to...

Ring. "Hello?" "Bravo."

She and the instructor were in the air. In an hour, she would be just another unconscious female... Could be, I corrected. I didn't see how it could fail now, barring a total failure of luck, but I was always conscious that Murphy was out there waiting. At this point, the weasel was out of it, leaving the state to pick up his stipend, and disappear to enjoy the proceeds.

More watching of the girls, but by now, between the caffeine and the waiting, I was having trouble concentrating on mere tits and asses.

An hour went buy. Then another half hour. Shit, this was way past the schedule. Something was wrong. Surely the instructor didn't get lost flying over the desert. Or the little single engine plane lost a...

Ring. "Hello?" "Uh... Uh... Yeah, Charlie."

She was landing on the deserted strip. The instructor would have just "happened" to notice a landing strip below and would naturally take the opportunity to have his student try a touch and go. Once down, he would ask her to stop because of some vibration that he could hear. They would taxi down to the end where a crew was working on a backhoe, next to a large dump truck and a couple of other vehicles. The men would be friendly, and would come up to ask what was going on as the two pilots got out to check the plane. Strong arms would suddenly grab the girl, a restaurant ketchup dispenser would be shoved between her teeth and squeezed hard. That would be followed by another loaded with enough water to make her choke the syrup down. That method had been tested exhaustively by me in the cave. In fifteen minutes she would be strapped into the seat of a pickup, upright and unconscious, and being driven down the dirt road - just another guy and his girl out for a ride.

First, and I emphasized that it was not to be forgotten, the emergency locator transmitter would be turned off and removed. The last thing that I wanted was for it to start flagging down a satellite to report a crash.

The small Cessna would be towed or taxied off into the sand, the backhoe would rupture the fuel tanks in both wings, then when empty, it would be towed further on to get away from the flammable liquid on the ground. There the backhoe and chainsaws would make short work of the thin aluminum plane, paying particular attention to shredding the parts with the license number. It would be loaded into the dump truck, then the backhoe would plow up the ground to bury any small pieces of metal that were overlooked.

The backhoe would be loaded onto the trailer, and both trucks would drive off into the distance. The dump truck to a metals recycling center and the backhoe back to the rental shop.

Another two hours went by.

Ring. "Hello?" "Delta."

As I walked out of the mall, I deposited the two pieces of the phone in widely spaced trash receptacles.

I realized that I shouldn't have spent several hours drinking coffee. Between the tension and the gallons of caffeine, I was shaking like a man with palsy.

The Mountaintop

By the time I got back, the Internet news sites were buzzing with the news that the famous star had not returned from a practice flying lesson. The Civil Air Patrol and the State Police were mobilizing to begin the search. By nightfall, all of the cable and broadcast news had it. A search along the path that they were to have taken had found nothing. Of course, the published flight plan had them going up the coast, not into the desert. But even if they had been on course, they would have found nothing. By now the plane was a pile of anonymous junk in a metals yard, and the object of the search was somewhere in a western state heading east.

That night I collapsed, uninterested in the several sets of delicious tail that I could have unwound with.

The next morning, I checked out the special cell that was built at the far back of the cave. It was an actual plywood room, separate from the main cave, totally enclosed and just big enough to hold a steel cage about 8 feet square. The floor of the cage had a blanket and a small pillow. There was an open hole in one corner for the commode and a faucet that would deliver a trickle of water. That was it - well, there was a bare light bulb overhead. A tray of food could be slipped in a slot at the floor, but any occupant would be completely isolated from the main dungeon.

Eventually, another throwaway phone rang, and I drove into town to my warehouse, loaded up and soon had my new possession on the mountain.


Teema and I got off the plane and waited to collect our luggage. While we were standing there, I saw a huge, ugly hulk of a man heading for us, followed by another, only somewhat less intimidating. It was Acid Face and a cohort.

"Welcome, Doruk," I said in Turkish. "Nice to see you again." Actually, I was stretching it a bit - I doubt that his mother would be happy to see him again. He was taken aback - never before had he heard me speak in his language - or call him by his real name. He nodded, but that was normal. He seldom used more than ten words a day, at least whenever I had been around him.

"This is Ayhan's niece," I said pointing at Teema. "She's the reason that Tarkan has sent you here." It was true - I had asked Tarkan for a couple of toughs as bodyguards while we were in the country. He gladly acquiesced. "There are a few relatives around that would like to see her harmed for reasons of money. You are to never let her out of your sight unless we are at her Uncle's."

He nodded and both took up positions behind her. Shortly we were on the curb looking for Ayhan's limo, which was waiting across the street.

Ayhan greeted us in his usual blatant style at the door of his mansion. He also was surprised when I answered in his language. "Fatimah has done an excellent job in a short time."

Returning his greetings, I replied, "Yes, she's a first class teacher. In fact, that is why we are here. She wants to discuss another teaching arrangement."

After a sumptuous lunch, I excused myself to let the two talk about... well, something that I expected Ayhan to veto in no uncertain terms.

The first stop was at my friend Tarkan's retreat for women. He also greeted me in his ebullient style, and ushered me into his office for the definitely non-non alcoholic drink. Since I had no women placed with him at the moment, the talk was generic. I got a tour of some of the nicer specimens that he was holding at the moment. Once again, he encouraged me to send him some of my fine American women. Of course, I assured him that when I got more, his was the only place they would be sent.

I got back to Ayhan's mansion by nightfall, wondering what kind of family squabble I was about to walk into. In his study that night, I settled back with a glass and waited for him to tell me the outcome. He did, and it was a total surprise.

I probably could have guessed if I had thought about it enough. In this part of the world, the idea of a submissive woman wasn't the lighting rod that it was in America. It was almost assumed, in fact, in the more remote areas, it was enforced. So, if Teema wanted to learn how to become more submissive, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

I gave in. If she wanted to enroll in Suliman's sex academy, I would pay for it.

The Mountaintop

I was down to four females, if I didn't count the fat bitch on the round platform. Plus a girl/boy and a normal boy with low hanging nuts. With Teema now in sex academy, the population of the cave was as low as it had been in a long time.

Things were back to normal now, if normal was a word that could be applied to my home, hobby and business. There were no big operations in the planning stage - actually, there were no little ones either. Mrs N. was off in Europe somewhere, and the only active clients I had were Mrs B and Mrs T. The latter was still trying to get her assets sold off and liquidized. She would disappear from the outside world into real slavery fairly soon.

I was trying to decide if I wanted to continue my rich bitch bondage business. I enjoyed it, but I knew that I didn't want to crank it back up to full time - I liked traveling too much. I enjoyed the fall weather, walked the length and breadth of my property, which was fairly large by now, all the while trying to decide what I wanted for the future.

Both Pancake and Cupcake had obviously been talking with Stephanie ever since she had been brought into the cave. They had heard all about the slave pits of Tarkan, and the sex school belonging to Suliman. Neither could just out and out ask me, but both hinted that they would like to attend the school also. While Cupcake was young enough to attend, Pancake was getting close to fifty years of age and was far too old to train as a silk girl. And I didn't have any interest in sending either one, anyway. I made that plain.

They slowly changed their hinting to the idea of them being sent to Tarkans. I assume that from the standpoint of a female who has no clue of what she is talking about, the prospect of being sold as a slave in a real slave market is thrilling. Stephanie's tales must have made the idea seem romantic. Or maybe they were just getting bored with the sameness of their lives. I wondered what they would think when they wound up as slaves for life in some unknown city, with dirt streets and no running water. But, it was an idea that had some merit.

But to stop them from bugging me about something that was not their business, I stretched both of them in vertical X chains - tight - for the day. Just to make sure, I had Coco install maximum gags and a full hood on both. And to keep them from getting bored, I let Coco and the boy have access to them all day. By the end of the day, both were well used - fore and aft.

Meanwhile, the bitch Pudgy was, well... still just a fat lump on her platform. Her eyes would follow me when I stood in front of her so I assumed that her mind was still functioning. Her calorie intake had long since been rationalized so that she didn't get any bigger, if that was possible. Much more weight would have made it impossible for Coco and the boy to turn her over. I would have sold her as a exotic attraction if I could have figured out how to get her to Tarkans. As it was, when she died, it was going to take a forklift to remove her.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

My new possession had not calmed down during my absence. Pancake had orders to keep her fed, but to do nothing else. Actually, she couldn't have if she had dared to. The room that the cage was in was locked, as was the cage itself. She had yelled and screamed and threatened before I left for Europe, and according to Pancake, for several days after before finally winding down. Now she just made a fuss when food was pushed into the slot - apparently assuming that was the time that the delivery person could hear her.

Looking at her though the small hole in the plywood, high up on one end of the wooden box, I could see her restlessly moving around the small area, before finally sitting down. An hour or so later, she would start all over again, testing the door, the lock, reaching thought the cage to bang on the plywood. She was a beauty - large breasts, hips, narrow waist. Of course, she was a long way from being a teenager, but no less exciting for that. Right now she wasn't quite made up for the Academy Awards, with her hair in disarray and any trace of makeup long gone. No problem for me - I like my women natural and au natural.

Now I had a problem. She was worth a fortune - no, she was priceless to a certain desert dwelling acquaintance, but I was having certain... feelings? stirrings? ... about the idea of keeping her. I wondered about keeping her as an unbroken slave. Of course, unbroken didn't mean unrestrained. Right now, she would claw the eyes out of anybody that she could reach.

I needed a name for her.

Some more walking and thinking was in order.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Mrs B was reaching the point of so many of my clients before her. She was scheduling more and more often, and for longer times. Bondage was her life and the outside world just a boring interlude. I decided to take her permanently, but I would try a different capture method - one that I had used a single time before. This would be much safer than abducting her here.

After her next session, I asked her to sit down in my office.

"Mrs B," I started. "I wonder if you would like to take a trip with me." She opened her eyes in some surprise. "I'm going to visit a real slave dungeon overseas that is owned by a friend of mine." I was watching for a reaction to see if I had measured her properly. Her eyes lit up with disbelief.

"Are you telling me that there are real slavers... I mean, that they really exist?" She knew what every civilized person knew - slavery was pretty well exterminated in the eighteenth century.

"I can assure you that it does exist, and is alive and well in parts of the world."

"My god! That's unbelievable." She sat back and thought about it. "Do you mean, slaves, like... uh, well... as I..."

"Women who like to be dominated, like you?" I completed. "Yes, but mostly other kinds. Some are voluntary, some are not. Many are just women, or men, who have escaped from a life that is worse than the forced life they are sold into."

I leaned back and looked at her. "Just a thought. I was going over to visit a couple of friends and thought you might like to see the real thing. It might give you ideas. At any rate, we can have no sessions while I am gone, anyway." Hmmm. I added, "Of course, what I am telling you is secret. Slavers don't like their business talked about."

Her face was a mass of conflicting emotions. "Yes, of course. When do we leave?"

"It will be a while. I'll let you know well before its time to pack."

I continued my walks around the maze of paths on my mountain and thinking. I had about decided to get out of the play bondage business. Maybe I was getting decadent, or maybe whipping rich bitches was getting boring. I wasn't getting out of the real bondage business, I just wanted something different.

In the back of the cave, I examined the far back wall where it narrowed down to a crack about six inches wide. My flashlight could see that it went beyond the range of the beam, but I had no idea how far. Tunneling was out of the question - this was hard rock and would be far beyond my ability to penetrate. Bringing in a crew of tunnelers was obviously a no-show. My dungeon would make for some lively conversation in a bar.

Upstairs, I started some research.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I watched the geophysical crew move their equipment up and down the mountain to the north. My house sat on the south slope, only about s 100 feet below the peak, heightwise. I had panoramic scene to the east, south and west, but only a view of the slope up the side of the mountain to the north. The actual top was about 300 feet north in a gentle rise.

The old dungeon cave entrance was in the southwest side of the mountain, about 60 feet below the level of where the old hotel stood. I knew that most caves didn't just have a single chamber, and was trying to find out if mine went further into the hill. The team of men, lead by a geologist, was trying to make a sonar scan to map out possible voids connecting my cave, which of course they didn't know about. Every now and then there was a thump, more felt than heard as their explosions went off. This was a high tech version of what oil companies have done for years to find a patch to drill in - instead of using dynamite, or equivalent, this one used compressed air, somehow, but which also didn't require a permit from the authorities. More of my privacy fanaticism was showing through.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

The geologist came to my home office with a arm full of seismological maps. I decided that we needed more room, so we adjourned to the dining room and used the big table.

"Mr. Tatem," he began, "I would appear that you have an extensive set of voids under your property. Of course, in this part of the state, that isn't unusual. You are in the middle of the karsk topography for this area. There are probably hundreds of caves and voids still to be found in a hundred mile radius of here."

He pointed to a 3-D map of my mountain. "Notice that from this void here," - he was pointing to my dungeon - "there is a string of refractions that moves back up here," - he moved his finger along the map - "up along here, then continues on into the body of the mountain." He pulled out a different map. "That area is too deep for our sounder, but it appears to continue on for an unknown distance."

He handed me a research paper. "Since you are too high off the valley floor to have continuous running water, these were probably formed several hundred thousand years ago when the climate here was much warmer and wetter. Rainwater would have percolated from caches in the rocks, into the ground and dissolved the softer rock, forming the voids."

A while later, I thanked him for his work, gave him a check, and saw him off.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I thought about the business that Teema had come up with. I had seen one like it in action, and had used the product that it produced. But, I really had no interest in training women to be good lovers. Bondage and discipline was my forte and always would be. I wondered how Teema was, well, I doubt that the word was enjoying... if her current circumstances matched her expectations. I wouldn't know for a long time.

I sat back and read though the geologist's reports, spending most of my time on the artist's sketch of what they thought my underground terrain looked like. I decided to find out. What the heck, it was only money.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

The mountaintop was ringing with the drills of the original Mexican rock crew. On the western slope, away from the road and view, they were driving a small shaft horizontally to intersect the largest "void" that my geologist had indcated. Although nothing was particularly secret, I just didn't advertise the work because of my normal fanaticism about privacy. If the sismo charts were right, they would have to go almost three hundred feet. The excess rock was carted to a gully on the same side of the mountain.

I whiled away at the time with my three clients, and my harem. None could match Stephanie for technique, by far, but sometimes a man gets tired of eating caviar and wants a hamburger instead. I was anxious for my big lush brown girl to get back - I missed her greatly.

Finally, the crew holed through into a large cavern, I had them stop and go take a break somewhere for a couple of weeks while I explored.

The cavern was huge, much bigger than my dungeon cave. Just like the sismo charts had indicated, it went north and south. I was not an experienced spelunker, so I was very careful in my exploring. I had no desire to fall into a bottomless pit somewhere. The big cavern went south into a much smaller one, then continued on through a crack that was too small to enter. I set a spotlight to shine in the crack in the back of the dungeon, and could barely see a reflection of it on the other side. I estimated the distance between my dungeon and the closest void that a person could fit into to be about seventy five to a hundred feet.

In the other direction, that is to say north, the big cavern continued at a down slope in a series of three smaller caves then again finally into a crack that was too small to enter. The whole series of voids in the rock was about six hundred feet long, not counting my current dungeon.

Bringing the rock crew back, I set them to making a passage between my dungeon and the new caves. While they drilled and mucked rock, I built a small wooden room at the back of my dungeon where the crack went into the back wall. This would prevent them from seeing into my dungeon when they broke through. Of course, on that day, I would have all the lights in the cave off and everybody trussed up and gagged.

In a few weeks, they had broken through and I now had a nice passageway from my dungeon to the new caves. The last thing they did was dynamite the access hole closed - the one that they tunneled into the mountain to intersect the new cavern. Now the only way in was through my dungeon. I paid them off, and they gathered up their equipment and left.

Of course, the big cavern was just like my dungeon when I first entered it. That is to say, the floor was far from flat, rocks were everywhere, and nothing was level. My original cave had the floor semi flattened with truckloads of clean river sand, but I probably wasn't going to do that with the new caves. For one thing, it would take hundreds of tons, and for another, I didn't plan to live in it.

As I ran conduit for power, a water line and a return sewer pipe, I began to plan what to do with the new space. At this point, I was still unsure, but had some ideas.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

I finished my first enhancement to the new cavern - a steel cage, a cube, eight feet by eight feet by eight feet. All six sides were built of one inch bars and was totally unescapable without a heavy duty hacksaw, a cutting touch or the key to one lock and the combination to the other. Food could be slid through a floor slot, and the commode was a hole in one corner. This would be the home of my new possession.

One evening, I put a dose of GHB in Madam X's food, and waited for a hour or so until it took effect.

Coco, Pancake, Cupcake and the boy each took a limb, and followed me into the new cavern - the first time they had seen it. They were quite awed by its extent, although unlike the dungeon, it was just a raw cave with nothing in it except a few lights, some pipes and a cage.

Once they deposited the limp woman in the new cage, I attached permanent bracelets and a collar. To each bracelet, I attached a chain which ran through rings welded at floor level to each corner of the steel cage. Passing though the rings, each chain continued on past steel rods hammered into the rock floor at an angle leaning away from the cage. This was a simple restraint system that required no locks. Any link of each chain could be passed over the rod and would limit the amount of movement that the woman could make. She could be X'ed out tight on the floor, or by moving down the chain so many feet, could be allowed almost normal movement inside of the cage. Of course, the rods were out of reach of the woman in the cage, so she couldn't reach though the bars and pull the chains off the rods. Even if she did, the cage was still double locked.

I gave her lots of slack, and left until she woke up.

I began work on another, identical cage.

The Mountaintop

Time passes...

Looking into the cavern from the passageway, I could see that my new possession was awake and prowling around looking at her new environment. This would be the first time she would see an actual person since her kidnapping.

She froze as her eye caught movement to the side. I casually walked into the cavern and up to her cage. This was no wallflower - this was a women who expected to be in charge and giving orders ever since she was a young actress. I took her only seconds to revert to her true type.

"You son of a bitch! I want out of here, and I mean right now. Get these goddamned chains off me.!" Hmmmm The several weeks in the solitary confinement cage didn't take any edge off her personality. "You and everybody else in this cave are going to rue the day you kidnapped me! My security team is going to remove your balls though your asshole! If you're lucky, the law will get you first."

I just stood and watched, smiling. It didn't seem to help.

She tried to rattle the bars with some massive pulling with both hands. It was a waste of effort. I was not a professional welder, but no mere woman was going to break inch thick welded steel bars. "Goddammit! I said open this cage, right now!" There was a lot more along the same lines, but to print it all would just be to list a long tirade of expletives, threats, and improbable actions. It took almost five minutes for her to wind down with a final, "Who are you?"

Still smiling, I replied, "I am your Master. That is what you will call me at least once in every sentence." My reply wasn't welcomed all that much. She started on another tirade describing the most improbable and probably impossible actions that would happen before she called me that. "Well, you will learn, eventually," I finally got in when she had to pause for breath. "I came in here to tell you something, if you will let me get a word in edgewise."

She waited, holding the bars with both hands and glaring at me between them.

The feeling of... what? power? erotism? domination? whatever, of a previously rich and powerful woman was overwhelming. This could get addictive.

"Good." I continued. "Tomorrow, you will be taken out of that cage." Her eyebrows raised, but unfortunately her expectations were probably wrong. "You will be strapped over a rack, with your ass in the air." I pulled an double bladder enema nozzle from my back pocket and held it up. "I will personally insert this up your asshole. Then this big bladder will be inflated inside you." I squeezed on bulb and blew it up to the size of a lemon. I definitely had her attention, as she was staring at the nozzle. I continued. "Then this smaller bladder will be inflated to keep it from going further in and also to help seal it." Surprisingly she kept looking and didn't blow up. Then your ass will be filled with a gallon of liquid, which will contain certain other liquids."

I dropped the bladder to the floor and before she could find a reply, continued," "Then myself and two slaves are going to fuck you in both holes. How many times, depends on how horny we are and whether you learn to use the word, 'Master'".

Much quieter now, she said, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Interesting, I thought. She was smart enough to know when to be the enraged female and when to gather information.

"Well, I am a modern day slaver and you are just another catch. I have an order for you from a gentleman on the other side of the world. What he wants you for, I don't know, but I doubt that it is for an acting position." With that, I turned around and left. It caught her by surprise, so the threats didn't restart until I was halfway to the new passageway.

As I lay down that night, after Stephanie worked my body into a limp rag, I began to think about what I had said. It wasn't a lie - I WAS a modern day slaver, and I liked it. The two operations that had snagged the two actresses were thrilling, both to plan and to put into action.

That is what I would do. I would set up an organization that would trade in rich and famous women.

The End of The Hotel


The beginning of...?

The End
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