Holiday Slavery

H O L I D A Y

B O N D A G E

Chapter 14: ... and the Consequences.

Master Paul and I walked in silence to the bondage room; he still wanted to keep up the appearance of being a Master, and I felt I shouldn't take that away from him. Once inside the room, however, he turned to me and said, "Well, we're slaves together now, but you're much more used to this than I am. How do you think she'll want me? Naked ... or would she like to strip me herself?"

"Oh, definitely naked," I replied, finding it a little strange to have him asking me what to do. He stripped quickly, revealing his well-built tanned body; his cock, held firmly against his belly by its harness of rings, was hard and purple with excitement. "We better find some handcuffs," I continued, "and cuffs for our ankles." We did so, and placed the keys to the cuffs on a hook just inside the door.

"When she said 'in the usual way'," I went on, "she meant like this..." I demonstrated, and Master Paul followed suit in fastening short chains between our ankle cuffs, then kneeling side by side facing the door before closing the handcuffs on our wrists behind our backs and gripping our ankles with our hands. The ten minutes must have been almost up, because after only a few seconds the door opened and my (our!) Mistress walked in. I instantly arched my hips up and forward in the way she likes, and from the corner of my eye I saw my fellow-slave doing the same.

My Mistress stood for a long moment, looking down at us with a broad grin. "Well, well," she said, "this is a pleasant surprise! It's so nice of you to join us ... slave Paul! But before I welcome you properly, I'll just see to my old slave here..." She leaned down and gave my cock and balls a thorough and intimate fondle, then moved me to one side; "... where you can relax and watch me initiate my 'prize' slave," she continued. "You'll probably have a fairly quiet evening, but I'm sure you'll enjoy watching!"

She turned back to Paul and her voice hardened significantly: "OK, you ... from now until tomorrow morning ... who am I?"

"Mistress Tina," came Paul's prompt reply.

"Right," she said. "You may address me simply as 'Mistress', and you will do so every time you speak. Now, whose Mistress am I?"

"Mine, Mistress," was the humble answer.

"Yes, yours. And what does that make you?"

"A slave, Mistress."

"Not quite the answer I wanted. Try again."

"Your slave, Mistress."

"Good, I'm glad that's clearly understood," said my Mistress. "I don't need any more answers from you just now, so..." She made Paul open his mouth wide to accept a large ball gag before she went on: "If I'm your Mistress and you're my slave, even temporarily, it means that I have total power over you. We haven't time for long discussions about how you may like to be treated; and, anyway, you said the other day that you'd never considered being a slave, so you can't have many ideas about it at all, can you?

"What I'm going to do is this: I'll use you for my enjoyment and treat you exactly as I want to -- you'll have no say at all in the matter. On the other hand, I don't intend to injure you or even do you any permanent harm, however minor. I do have a good deal of experience with male slaves, and I think that the willingness of Peter here to remain my slave after what he went through on the island, is proof of my ability to judge what a slave can take.

"You won't have many opportunities to disobey me but, if you do, I will punish you as severely as I think fit. Not necessarily by whipping you -- I don't think you want this evening's activities advertised by weals all over your back when you return to being a Master -- but there are other ways of punishing slaves, especially male slaves, and quite severely too; for example..." She suddenly bent down and flicked both forefingers sharply against her captive's balls, so conveniently exposed by the vertical position of his cock.

He grunted and his naked body jerked violently. Slumping back on his heels, he looked up at my Mistress rebelliously. She stared down at him for a few moments before saying quietly, "Yes, I know it hurts; but the pain will go away before long, and while it lasts, it will help to make a point that I'm sure you haven't thought of. It's this: the whole point of slavery is that the slave has no choice, at least for a mutually and freely agreed period.

"As a Master, I think you've been very lucky; your lovely Helen adores you and is your slave in more ways than one. She's happy to have no choice, so long as she has you. Other potential slaves find it much harder to give up their choice, utterly and completely, even for short periods; Peter here had some problems with it, but I think he's learning now. Isn't that right, slave?" She smiled at me, but went on without giving me time to answer.

"Tonight you will find out whether you have that potential to be a slave, to give yourself up utterly to your Mistress and take whatever treatment she wants to give you, whether it's what you'd like or not. Not because you might ever want to become a slave, or even because I think you should learn this; but simply because we made a deal, I won, and it's the only way I can enjoy being a Mistress with a slave. Is that understood?"

There was a long pause. My Mistress waited patiently for an answer, looking not only at Paul, but also glancing at me with an expression I couldn't quite identify. I had a feeling she was trying to give me some sort of message, but I couldn't see what it might be. Eventually Paul nodded, slowly and somewhat reluctantly.

"Good," said my Mistress. "Not that it matters, I hope you realise; you copied my slave's example, put yourself in shackles, and now you're completely helpless and I can keep you that way as long as I like, can't I? Let's have you up in the pose again for the last thing I want to say..." She reached down again; but this time merely took hold of Paul's vulnerable balls and gently but firmly made him lift his hips up again.

"That's better," she smiled. "Now remember, we made a deal and I'll keep my side of it; I will release you tomorrow morning. In any case, your slave will come looking for you about then, so I couldn't get away with trying to keep you in bondage even if I wanted to. Then, if you feel I've mistreated you, you can complain to any officer just like any slave can; but both your slave and mine will tell them our deal was freely agreed, and I suspect the worst they'd do with me would be to declare that you're no longer my slave ... which will be true anyway!

"This has been quite a speech, hasn't it?" she concluded. "But I had to make things clear, otherwise winning our poker game wouldn't have been worth my bother. Now I'm going to make the most of it; after all, I might have lost and, having tried both sides, I knew I only really enjoy being a Mistress! If you're game to submit utterly and obey me completely, you might find you enjoy being a slave as well as a Master; if not, you probably won't enjoy it much ... but I will, either way! Which is it to be?"

This time her captive didn't hesitate at all, but nodded emphatically. "OK," she said, "now I want you to prove it. I'm going to release your shackles and give you a series of simple orders, to be obeyed exactly! I could free my own slave (between us we could control you if you change your mind) but I won't, so if you wanted to, you might be able to overpower me ... but I wouldn't bet on it!" she finished with a grin and a significant glance at his exposed balls.

Paul had clearly got her message, because he obeyed perfectly. With no shackles on either wrists or ankles, he stood to attention and posed his naked body in a variety of ways; he touched his toes and accepted a single cut with a cane across his bottom ("... just to see how you like it!" said my Mistress); he even took a pair of strong spring clamps she gave him and attached them to his own nipples! The only time he hesitated before obeying was when she told him to fondle my cock and balls; but at her sharp look he did obey, and spent several minutes giving me pleasure ... without letting me come, of course!

Meanwhile my Mistress got things ready for more serious bondage activities. She located and laid out the various cuffs, ropes, chains and other equipment she wanted. (Once she was happy that Paul would 'behave', she sometimes didn't even look at him while calling orders over her shoulder!) Finally, she stripped off her skirt and blouse to reveal a black leather domination costume; it was cut extremely high at the sides, accentuating her long slim legs, and its V-neck plunged to below her navel. In a word, it was erotic -- especially when she added matching elbow-length gloves and knee-high boots!

Now she stood Paul in the centre of the room and tied his wrists together with a rope hanging from a pulley above his head. She then activated the pulley motor until he almost had to stand on tiptoe to take his weight off his arms. I knew from experience how tantalisingly uncomfortable this was, either straining one's leg muscles to take the weight or dropping to one's heels and therefore straining one's arms.

My Mistress now started teasing and tormenting his naked body, so helplessly stretched for her amusement. She ran her sharp fingernails up and down his sides, arms, back, ribs and belly, frequently adding painful little pinches. After at least twenty minutes of this, she stood directly in front of him, looked hard into his eyes and (without saying a word) inserted the tip of the riding crop she held between his thighs and tapped it gently from side to side.

I could see the amazement in Paul's eyes as it dawned on him what she meant; but how could he spread his legs (I could almost hear him thinking) when he was already almost hanging from his wrists? But she was insistent and eventually got his obedience with a sudden light flick upwards of the crop; the blow it dealt to his balls couldn't have been very painful, but it clearly made the point to him, how utterly vulnerable he was with his balls so exposed to any blow she might lay on them. He began to edge his feet apart.

My Mistress was patient, but she wasn't satisfied until his toes were at least two feet apart. She stood back for a moment and smiled: "See what you can do when you really try?" she said softly. "A slave only begins to be a slave when he tries as hard as possible to please his Mistress." Paul's arms were now bearing all his weight, and the muscles and tendons in his legs were stretched to their limit simply to allow his toes to touch the floor and keep his legs apart!

These very muscles and tendons were now doubly sensitive to the attentions of my Mistress' tormenting fingernails, as she ran them slowly and firmly down his inner thighs, behind his knees and on over his taut calf muscles. She even spent a few moments tickling the strained and extra sensitive soles of his feet; involuntarily, he broke his pose as he tried to avoid her insistent touch, but two sharp blows with the crop right on his ankle bones forced him to resume it. Her nails traced their way back up his legs and reached his crotch, where they delicately but quite unmercifully scratched and prodded between his legs and all over his balls and his constricted but engorged prick.

Paul was panting heavily by this time, partly through the strain of his bondage and (I suspected) partly through arousal. My Mistress obviously had similar suspicions, because she said, "Let's see if this weapon of yours is hard just because the rings are constricting it, or because you're really enjoying this!" She unlocked the waist-chain, allowing his cock to fall away from his belly ... but it didn't even reach the horizontal, it was so hard!

As carefully as she could, she pulled the tight rings from its shaft; but I could sympathise with her captive, because I knew just how uncomfortable it was to have such tight rings pulled from a hard prick! He heaved a sigh of relief when the last ring was removed, but this turned into a surprised gasp when she immediately grasped his cock and massaged it firmly (from experience, I knew that this was in some ways even more painful!); but he endured it bravely.

For his next 'exercise in slavery' (as she called it), my Mistress made Paul kneel and fastened a cord between his ankles and the base of his cock, short enough to keep him on his knees; and she tied his wrists behind his back with cords leading to the clamps that still pinched his nipples. Then he obediently followed her as she paraded around the room; whenever she stood still, he had to cover whatever part of her he could reach with kisses and licks. The smooth curves of her buttocks (left almost bare by her costume) got lots of attention, as did her lovely thighs.

She also made him bend right down and lick the glossy leather on the toes of her boots, and even keep their soles clean with his tongue. "In case you need the standard symbol of slavery," she grinned. And once or twice she briefly allowed him to kiss the strip of leather covering her pussy! "Later," she said, you'll have plenty of opportunity to use your tongue on me without that covering! For now, it's just to get you in the mood!"

"That'll do," she said after about twenty minutes of this. "You can relax for a minute while I set up slave Peter for our next game." She began to make adjustments to my bondage, saying as she did so, "One of the nice things about having two slaves, as you know, is setting you up in 'shared bondage'. I know slave Peter just hates to be left out!"

Before long she had us both tied standing and facing each other a few feet apart; but the ropes holding our legs and arms spreadeagled were not very tight ... yet! "Another nice thing about having two slaves ..." she smiled, tying cords around the bases of our cocks, "... is making you decide the discomfort of each other's bondage!" she went on, tying the other ends of the cords to clamps on our nipples, my cock to Paul's nipples and vice versa. "There!" she finished with a broad grin. "Now let's tighten these cords a little."

She took a thin cane and carefully twisted the cords between our cocks and nipples around it, right at the point they crossed over. Then she began to turn it, and gradually the tension on the cords increased, forcing Paul and me to arch our naked bodies forwards into an ever more uncomfortable pose. Her eyes sparkling with enjoyment at our predicament, she teased us by pointing out that neither of us had to strain ourselves for the other's comfort!

I wasn't concerned with Paul's comfort; I was only trying to reduce the strain on those tender parts of my bound and naked anatomy! And I'm sure Paul's concern was similar. At last I simply couldn't arch myself any further ... but still my Mistress increased the tension, until I felt the strong spring-loaded clamps starting to slip on my nipples -- which is a good deal more painful than simple tension, I can tell you!

Suddenly, with no warning (but with an excruciating sensation of a sharp pinch followed by blessed relief!), the clamps pulled off my nipples. Almost instantly, the sharp tug downwards as my cock took all the strain, coupled with my involuntary jerk backwards, pulled the clamps from Paul's nipples too. He howled; I, however, a little more used to being treated like this, managed to limit myself to a low moan. Then, in unison, we both sighed with relief.

Our relief was very short-lived. Quickly twitching the loose cords around the cane to prevent it untwisting, my Mistress began massaging our newly-freed nipples. The cord between our cocks, still short enough to make us arch a little, stopped us from pulling away from her insistent fingers ... but we both tried several times, adding more discomfort to ourselves and each other! My Mistress seemed to really enjoy our chorus of strangled cries and grunts, as she restored the circulation to our pinched and ultra-sensitive nipples by rolling them firmly between her strong fingers.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" she asked when at last she stopped -- and grinned widely at our expressions as we dutifully agreed with her. She allowed the cane to unwind, letting us relax in our bonds a little; then she continued, "You know, I've often thought it would be very amusing to have two male slaves and to order them to suck each other's cocks. Don't you think that would be fun?"

I was quite stunned, but not so much as Paul; his eyes widened, his jaw dropped and he stammered with a note of desperation in his voice, "No, Mistress ... not that ... please!" But his pleas stopped at my Mistress' sharp "Quiet!"

"That wasn't my question, slave," she said quietly, but a touch of steel in her voice made Paul bite off any further protest. "As I said earlier: while you're my slave tonight, you ... have ... no ... choice! However, you seem to feel pretty strongly about it, and I don't want this evening to be entirely unpleasant for you. Besides," she grinned, "you might take it into your head to use your teeth to seriously injure my slave here, who trusts me to protect him from anything like that!

"Now you, slave Peter," she addressed me, "you wouldn't dream of doing anything like that, would you? You're a good slave, and you always obey my orders, don't you? Quite apart from the fact that you wouldn't dare bite slave Paul, because he might never let you near his pretty little slave-girl again, and you wouldn't like that, eh?

"On the other hand," she smiled sweetly, "if you don't obey my order to suck his cock, I may not let you near her again. No, not a word from you!" she said sharply as she began to adjust my bondage. "You'll do exactly as you're told -- after all, it can't do you any harm, can it?"

Before long she had me set up as she wanted: on my widely spread knees, with my wrists and elbows drawn tightly behind my back ... and with my face on a level with Paul's groin! I was hardly more keen on this idea than he was, but I seemed to have very little choice. And, as I looked at his cock standing erect a few inches from my mouth, I found myself wondering, on the one hand, whether she was really going to make me do it and, on the other, how it would taste!

My Mistress stood behind me, allowing me to lean slightly against her thighs and belly but (of course) preventing me from pulling away completely. She threw a long strap around Paul's waist and used it to arch his body forward until the head of his prick touched my lips. "Open your mouth, slave," she ordered, "and start licking ... or will I have to choke you until you do?" Bowing to the inevitable, I began to run my tongue over and around that hard purple cock-head, tasting the strange (but not really unpleasant) flavour.

After just a few minutes of this, my Mistress said, "Wider now, there's a good slave." I obeyed, she pulled on the strap and I felt Paul's organ slide deep into my mouth. It was long enough to reach right to the back of my throat, and thick enough to make my jaws ache; but I did my best, sucking, tonguing and using my teeth gently on the hard but tender flesh. And, of course, it wasn't hurting me at all!

In fact, in its own unpredictable way my submissive nature asserted itself and I even found this quite exciting ... especially as it only proved -- again! -- my utter subservience to my Mistress and her total control over me. And she was in control; it was she, not Paul, who thrust that cock in and out of my obedient (if not entirely willing) mouth; and it was she who ultimately determined what pleasure he got from me.

Several times, when she could see he was getting close to an orgasm, she withdrew his cock and squeezed it expertly to calm down his arousal. For me, these breaks provided some welcome deep breaths before accepting my 'living gag' again. And I was still worried: I dislike the taste of my own semen, and I wondered how I could stand Paul's hot liquid gushing into the back of my throat!

To my great relief, my Mistress didn't even let Paul come! "That's enough excitement for you, slave, for now at least," she grinned, reaching down to give his balls a gentle squeeze. "But you must admit it was an unusual experience; yet I suspect you enjoyed it more than a little! As for you," she smiled at me, "you did a pretty good job; I trust it didn't spoil your appetite for me!"

She unfastened the straps of my stringent bondage and, for about an hour, I was able to relax and simply watch. Paul, however, was given no respite; with hardly any pauses at all, my Mistress gave him a taste of a variety of bondage positions. She suspended him by his ankles; she forced him into a tight and very uncomfortable hogtie; she tied him face up over a 'horse', drawing his arms and legs down until his body was painfully arched; and she 'tortured' him on a rack, stretching him until even I thought he would twang!

During this bondage, she constantly tormented him, pinching, prodding and tickling his naked body. "See what it's like to be a slave?" she teased him; "You're completely helpless, aren't you, and I could do anything I want with you!" Most of all she fondled his cock and balls, keeping him at a high pitch of excitement but not letting him come. "I'll bet you've done this with your slave-girl," she grinned knowingly. "Now you know what it's like. This is my ultimate power over you: I'll decide when -- or if! -- you have your climax!"

In fact, however, Paul did have a say in when he came ... but (as my Mistress loved to arrange things) at the cost of some discomfort! She had tied him face up on a bench, but with little more than his shoulders resting on it -- his legs were drawn up and very widely apart. Standing over him, the crotch of her sexy costume inches from his face, she took a firm grip of his hard cock.

"OK, slave," she said. "I'm going to make you come soon, but I want you to hold out as long as you can. To give you some incentive, slave Peter will count slowly to 50; when you come, I'll give you the rest of the 50 with the paddle, so the longer you delay coming, the fewer paddle strokes you'll get. Right, slave Peter, start counting ... slowly ... that's good!"

I counted slowly and steadily, watching with great interest as my Mistress played with Paul's cock ... running her fingernail delicately along the underside of its shaft and around its head and stroking it with one or both hands, varying the speed and length of her strokes. Paul tried valiantly to delay his orgasm but (as I could have told him!) my Mistress is very skillful indeed at this; what with his bound helplessness to avoid any of her caresses, he did very well to last until my count of 21.

At the first spurt of fluid from his purple member, my Mistress signalled me to stop counting. She continued to pump while it released its load of come all over his chest and belly, then 'milked' it dry with very tight and slow strokes of her hand as it relaxed and became limp. Quickly wiping up the 'mess' with a towel, she commented drily, "You seemed to enjoy that. I hope you enjoy the rest of the count as much. Let's re-arrange you a little ..."

She slackened the ropes holding Paul's ankles but, as his legs began to lower, she forced them towards his head; then she passed a long strap under the bench behind his head and around his knees, and drew it tight until his knees were almost touching his shoulders. His buttocks were now raised high and tautly stretched ... a perfect target for the large paddle she swung experimentally as she took up a position to one side.

"We won't hurry this, slave Peter," she said. "All you have to do is count my strokes from where you left off. I'll vary the speed occcasionally just to keep slave Paul guessing. Ready?" And the first blow landed with a loud THWACK across Paul's bum.

I'm certain Paul didn't enjoy the remaining count from 22 to 50! At first he managed to limit himself to gasps and small grunts, but my Mistress' strong arm and good aim soon made his bum-cheeks a bright red and had him emitting loud cries, especially when she delivered three or four blows in quick succession. The fiftieth stroke brought the loudest cry, followed by an almost equally loud sigh of relief ... instantly cut short and replaced by two more "Ouch!"s as my Mistress planted an extra blow on the back of each thigh!

"A slave must never assume a whipping is over," said my Mistress sternly. "I might feel like going on for a long while, and you're utterly helpless to stop me, aren't you?" She grinned cheerfully down at Paul and elicited another small moan from him by running a fingernail lightly across the cherry-red flesk of his bottom. "As a slave, your only proper response when you think a whipping is finished, is to thank your Mistress for bothering to give it to you. You may now do so ... and you better sound as if you mean it!"

"Thank you, Mistress," replied Paul, managing to sound very sincere. "Thank you for paddling my bottom and teaching me about being a slave."

"Very good!" she said as she began to loosen the strap around his knees. "You're learning quite well ... and enjoying it too, I see!" She noted with a smile that his cock, so recently limp after his climax, was already showing signs of getting hard again.

He was allowed to rest for a few minutes while she set up some equipment; he knelt beside me, rubbing his bum-cheeks somewhat gingerly, and we watched and wondered how one or both of us would soon be bound to it. It was a roughly triangular frame, supported at the bottom two corners by hinges which were firmly fixed to the floor and a few inches above it. It also had plenty of attachments for fastening ropes or straps, but it was by no means obvious exactly how she intended to use it.

Paul was the "lucky slave" (as my Mistress put it!) to find out! He had to lie face-down partly under the frame and his shoulders were firmly fastened to its top with straps; his arms were pulled behind the side members and drawn tightly down towards the centre of its base. Then my Mistress used a number of straps, around his ankles, thighs, knees and hips, to bind his legs to the frame with his ankles crossed tailor-fashion. He was so immovably joined to it that, when my Mistress lifted it on its hinges, his naked body moved as if it were part of it.

She put a low bench under his chest so that his head was two feet or so from the floor, then sat on a cushion in front of him. "You weren't prepared to suck slave Peter's cock," she said sternly, "but I'm going to insist that you suck ... this!" From behind her back she produced a double-ended rubber dildo, flesh-coloured and shaped to look just like a real cock; and she lifted Paul's head by his chin until she could look into his eyes with an unspoken question.

After the merest hesitation, he nodded wordlessly. My Mistress smiled her approval and put the dildo's tip to his lips. "Now," she said as he opened his mouth to accept it, "I want you treat it as if were a real prick, slave Peter's for example. Remember how he licked and sucked yours earlier, and pretend to try to give him as much pleasure as he gave you."

I found the next twenty minutes or so very exciting, as I watched Paul's tongue run sensuously around the head of that rubber cock, and then his mouth open wide to accept its length deep into his throat. With a strange sense of unreality, I could almost imagine that I felt Paul's tongue and lips on my cock, which stayed hard throughout his performance. Several times, as she held the dildo for his busy mouth and occasionally pumped it just like a real man might thrust his cock, my Mistress caught my eye over Paul's head and grinned at me.

"OK, that's enough," she said at last. "Now take a few deep breaths, slave, because there's something else I want you to do with this ... ready? ... take it in nice and deep and grip it tight with your teeth ... now hold it like that." She stood up and, showing the remarkable strength I knew she had, pivoted Paul and the frame until he was resting face up on his shoulders. The dildo's other half protruded vertically from his mouth; before he had time to realise her intention, she knelt over his head, undid a catch at the crotch of her costume and lowered her pussy onto the dildo!

She gave him no instructions. She didn't need to, because he had no choice at all. He simply had to lie there, well gagged by one half of the dildo, and hold the other half up for my Mistress to use for her pleasure; he couldn't even push the dildo from his mouth, because her weight kept it there as she worked her cunt up and down on it, riding to her climax on his helpless face.

I knew that she thought this was one of the best ways to impress on a slave his true status and function, and I have no doubt Paul got the message. The frame raised his hips above the floor and the way he was bound had forced his hips upwards. My Mistress took advantage of this and, as she rode the 'cock' he held for her, she played with his cock and the rest of his naked body, so utterly available to her teasing, tormenting hands.

After about ten minutes she began to moan softly, and soon after that she put one hand down to her clit and brought on her climax, pressing down on Paul's face to force the dildo deep into her cunt. For thirty seconds or more, as she writhed in ecstasy, his nose would have been too firmly pressed into her crotch for him to breathe; and, when at last she rose and took the dildo from his mouth, his face was red and he gratefully took several gasping breaths.

"I quite enjoyed that," said my Mistress and grinned down at him. "It was a good start to your final and most important task of the night. But not here; our booking for this room is almost over, so we'll have to go back to my cabin." She untied Paul from the frame and allowed him a good rest while she, with my assistance, put away the room's bondage gear.

"Right," she went on when the room was tidy. "You're still my slave until the morning, so you'll come back to my cabin as a slave would ... naked and shackled!" Paul opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him with a sharp "No, no arguments! That's the way I want it; but I know you would rather not be seen by other Masters or Mistresses, so we'll use this ..." She produced a leather helmet from the bag she'd brought with her. "Up on your knees, now."

Paul obeyed, and soon his whole head was encased by the helmet -- except for his ears, nose and mouth. "Nobody could recognise you now," said my Mistress, but let's not take any chances. On the one hand, I don't want you shouting that you've been mistreated; on the other hand, you may not want to be recognised by your voice, if you're silly enough to say something. So open up ..." And she pushed a large ball-gag into his mouth and buckled it behind his neck.

"Now for your shackles," she went on. "On your feet, slave." The shackles she had chosen for Paul consisted of wrist cuffs fastened behind his neck, holding his arms up beside his head, and ankle cuffs with an 18-inch bar between them; she fixed the former, but made me get down on my knees to do the latter. Then she shackled me, simply with cuffs holding my wrists behind my back; and to these cuffs she fastened one end of a six-foot leash, clipping the other end to a ring on the collar of Paul's helmet.

Finally, she took a piece of card from her bag and held it up for me to see, putting a finger to her lips and smiling. In quite large letters, it read: "My friend behind me LOVES being fondled by strangers he can't see, but he's too shy to ask. My Mistress will be happy to give permission to anyone who asks her ... even slaves!" And at the bottom, in smaller print: "P.S. You may fondle me too, without even asking her!"

I found it hard not to burst out laughing when I read this, but I managed to control myself. My Mistress nodded approvingly and slipped the sign's cord around my neck (it was big enough to cover most of my chest!) and said brightly: "OK slaves, let's go. Just follow the tug on your leash, slave Paul, and don't worry; I'll help you when we come to stairs or anything.

"Oh hello, there!" she exclaimed as she opened the door. "What good timing, we're just leaving." As we left the bondage room, the Master waiting to use it naturally read the sign hanging from my neck and accepted its invitation with a broad grin. My Mistress agreed readily to his "May I?" and he subjected Paul's cock and balls to a thorough and quite rough handling.

Paul flinched quite noticeably when he felt the masculine hands on his private parts, but he was helpless to avoid them. I could imagine what must have been going through his mind as he realised that this was only the first of many such handlings he might have to endure! But of course he could do nothing but follow when, at my Mistress' command, I tugged on his leash to begin our walk to the 'safety' of her cabin.

To Paul, walking with his ankles spread apart, this walk must have seemed a lot longer than it really was. It was a good deal longer than it need have been, because my Mistress led us well out of our way in search of people to read the sign I was wearing! I'm sure it took us nearly an hour to reach her cabin, and in that time at least forty pairs of hands, including about a dozen belonging to slaves, had fondled his naked body.

Naturally, his cock and balls received the most attention. But some people also ran their hands all over him, and others were particularly interested in his buttocks, which were still quite red from the paddle and marked with deeper red spots from the spikes. (My Mistress' cleverness in shackling his wrists at his neck prevented him from even attempting to cover his bottom!) Several times there were three or four people around him and six or eight hands simultaneously stroking, pinching, tickling or otherwise handling him.

My Mistress was careful not to say the names of anyone who asked permission to handle Paul; obviously, this was intended to save him from embarrassment the next time he would see them in his normal role as a Master. But two or three Mistresses spoke to him, as they fondled his hard cock, suggesting that he ask Mistress Tina to loan him to them sometime -- "I'd soon cure your shyness!" said one. I wondered how he would react when he saw them next!

"Here we are at last!" said my Mistress when we reached her cabin. "That was quite a journey ... but it was an exciting one for you, slave Paul, wasn't it?" She reached down and fondled his cock, still hard and quite red from the handling it had received, and went on: "Now it's time for you to give me some excitement ... but first, I think we could all use a drink. Slave Peter, you'll serve them while I organise slave Paul."

She released my wrists for me to obey, then unshackled Paul's, only to re-fasten them behind his back palm-to-palm with a strap around his elbows as well. Next she removed his gag to allow him to drink from the glass I held to his lips. While we relaxed for a few minutes, she said to Paul, "I know you've seen me naked -- once; but now you're my slave, and I don't allow slaves to see my nakedness until they've proved themselves as slaves. You're only a temporary slave, so you'll wear that helmet while you serve me. OK, on your knees!"

It took her a moment only to strip off the costume she wore and lie down on her bunk. Soon Paul was hard at work with his tongue, giving her lovely naked body an all-over 'bath'; his ears, protruding from the helmet, were perfect 'handles' for her to guide him. At first I simply had to watch but, when she positioned Paul between her thighs and pushed his mouth into her pussy, she signalled me to take my place beside her and use my oral skills on her tits.

She kept Paul working for at least two hours, off and on; in that time, she must have had at least eight climaxes, some of which seemed to go on for minutes at a time. It was particularly interesting -- and exciting! -- for me, because I'd never before watched her climax except with my own mouth in her pussy (which provides a limited view at best!). At last she gasped "That's enough, slaves!" pushed us away and lay back to regain her breath.

A little later she put us slaves to bed. Paul was given the pallet, while I had to make do with a few rugs on the floor; on the other hand, I was allowed to sleep without shackles, while Paul was tied (quite comfortably) in such a way that he had to stay on his back with his wrists tied to his sides. "My slaves are expected NOT to play with themselves," grinned my Mistress as she arranged him, "but an untrained slave like you needs a bit of help to obey."

Paul didn't have to wear the helmet all night, though; my Mistress ordered me to remove it after turning out the lights. Although there was a very faint light coming from the porthole, he would only have been able to see the vaguest outlines of her naked body when, twice during the night, she knelt over his prone figure and pushed her pussy on to his mouth for a little extra fun.

I doubt if he slept much anyway, because he looked quite weary next morning. My Mistress untied him and sent him into the bathroom to have a shower; when he returned, she said "Time for your final inspection, slave. Let's see if you've learnt anything about being a slave; no shackles, but I want you to stand up straight, hands behind your head ... legs apart ... chest out ... stomach in!"

"Good!" she murmured as he obeyed. She began a careful examination of his naked body, running her hands over every inch of it. "No marks anywhere except here," she went on as she caressed his buttocks, causing him to wince slightly; "It'll be a bit tender for a day or so, but it won't show unless you strip right off!" Paul didn't move at all, even when she allowed me to 'inspect' him in the same way, and afterwards she said approvingly "Very good, slave; it looks like you did learn something last night."

Now she stood directly in front of Paul and began to fondle his cock and balls, thoroughly and intimately. "I've really enjoyed myself very much," she smiled, "and I do hope you enjoyed at least some of it. In any case, I trust there are no hard feelings ... although this does feel a bit hard right now!" She glanced down at his prick, standing out like a flagpole, and grinned at him. "Well, what do you say, slave?"

Paul grinned back and replied, "No, no hard feelings, Mistress."

"Not even when you see this?" continued my Mistress, holding up the sign from our walk last night. "It was hanging around slave Peter's neck on our way back here last evening."

Paul's eyes widened as he read it. "You ..." he began, but stopped himself; after a moment's thought he said, "Sorry, Mistress. But are you sure nobody recognised me?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure," she replied. "But even if someone did, you know how we are expected to respect the wishes of anyone who wants to be anonymous. Of course," she grinned, "if you want, I'd be happy to re-introduce you to anyone who showed an interest in you ... as well as those whose invitation you could take up yourself!"

"No thanks, Mistress," Paul grinned back. "If I may speak? It's been very interesting and most of it has been fun ... but I do prefer being a Master."

"Fine," replied my Mistress, giving his cock one last squeeze, then pinching both his nipples quite hard and finally delivering a sharp slap to his tender bum-cheeks. "Slave Peter and I are going into the bathroom to freshen up. Your clothes are hanging in the closet. See you at breakfast ... with your slave, of course, Master Paul!"

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