Fore! Play (c) copyright 2001 by Fox (guest.bound.to/foxtales) revised copyright 2003 by Fox (writerfox@fastmail.ca) originally posted by the author at www.guest.bound.to/foxtales This text contains material of an explicit and adult nature. If you are not of legal age to view such text DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER. The following incidents and characters are fictional and in no way reflects any known persons, situations or places. Any similarity to real life is purely coincidental. Permission is hereby granted to save this story to a private computer for personal viewing only so long as both this disclaimer and copyright of the writer and owner remain intact. Posting of this work at a web site, print in book or magazine, or commercial archiving of this story is strictly forbidden. The author reserves all rights. Fox and WriterFox are registered pseudonyms for the author.
Fore! Play By Fox CHAPTER ONE: "The Invitation" IT CAME in a simple, plain white envelope. "Julia, look at this," exclaimed Alison as she sorted through her mail. "We have an invitation!" "Oui, Maitresse?" "Here, be a good girl and open this for me." Alison passed the envelope down to Julia. The girl did not move from her position at Alison's feet. Her silver chains jangled as she accepted the envelope. Julia wiggled a long red fingernail into the space where the paper was folded down on itself and lightly glued. Expertly she cut the thin paper open and removed the white card inside. She glanced at it but did not read it. Lowering her head, she offered it to the woman in the chair. Alison took the card from her slave's outstretched hand. She caressed the naked girl's shoulder where the soft brown hair fell against the creamy white flesh as she read aloud. "Lady Meranda Augusta invites you to join her for the Annual Masters and Mistresses Golf Tournament. Saturday August 7 at her private Country Club. Accommodations and stabling are provided. R.S.V.P. 555-5201" "Well, won't this be fun my sweet?" Alison pondered, a welcoming smile spreading across her face. "I do believe we'll attend! Fetch the telephone, Julia." "Oui, Maitresse," replied Julia. Alison watched her slave girl's buttocks move and sway as she crawled away. Once again Alison commended herself on how effective and pretty her slave's bondage. The sirik chain was an excellent idea, she thought. She loved the way the slender silver links joined in the centre before reaching out to connect with the brightly polished stainless steel wrist and ankle cuffs. Julia was hobbled very effectively. The sirik ensured movements were limited but not impossible. She could stand but awkwardly hunched over, not upright, which made crawling the preferred method of locomotion. Which suited Alison just fine. "Yes indeed, this will be a great deal of fun!" Alison mused. ----- WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE, Meranda was oft referred to as "that cute but mischievous Sommerfeld child". Named after a great aunt, Meranda Augusta Sommerfeld rarely behaved like the model of ladylike propriety as was hoped for by her family. Grown up, her temperament was little changed. Her mischievousness was legend among her friends; others thought of her as "that Sommerfeld bitch". Meranda liked to make outlandish bets, which, if she won, usually placed her opponent in an embarrassing situation. She also enjoyed malicious pranks, her victims often never the wiser. Meranda was employed in the underwriting department of an insurance company when it happened. Friday afternoon, she left work as just another minion; Saturday morning she awakened to a whole new life. The lottery was worth $22.5 million. Meranda was the sole winner. It was presented to her in a single cheque. At 28, she was suddenly a very wealthy woman. Her new found financial independence gave Meranda the opportunity to pursue her dreams. First, the trip around the world: Venice, the Taj Mahal, Paris, Bali. Then, there was the search for and purchase of the perfect property where she could indulge in her passion for golf. Her agent found the perfect location in the countryside, a half hour drive from the city, on the banks of one of the many rivers that traverse the province. Wooded areas, flat prairie, some small hillocks, a winding creek. Almost pristine, for part had been farmed but was now left fallow. There was a house, a barn, and some small buildings. Plans were devised, contractors hired, and soon Meranda was busy writing cheques. Every time she signed her name, her dream came closer. And then it was done. All was ready. The clubhouse was designed with privacy, comfort and of course, luxury in mind. It featured among its other amenities, a white-linen dining room that could accommodate up to 100 people at a sitting. Everything that a very exclusive, very private golf course needed, was provided for, and then some. With her customary sense of humour, Meranda named her private playground the "West Roissy Country Club". There was no shortage of membership applications, even at the very high fees Meranda charged. No shares were issued and only 50 members were accepted each year. In fact, exclusivity was a very strong attraction for those who could afford to pay; the challenging beauty of the course and the cordon bleu chef who ran the dining room were bonuses. There was one stipulation upon which there was no discussion: Meranda reserved the country club for five days each season for her personal use. Naturally, rumours abounded as to what took place. For on this occasion more so than any other, Meranda Augusta Sommerfeld truly indulged herself, combining her love for "the grand old game" with her other passion.
CHAPTER TWO: "The Arrival" ALISON DEFTLY STEERED HER JEEP up to the iron gates. A discreet plaque imbedded in the brick pillar said "Private: Members Only". A video camera atop the brickwork swiveled and pointed at the driver's side. "Good day, Madame" came a voice from a hidden speaker. "May we see your invitation, please?" Smiling, Alison held the small ivory coloured card out her window. "Thank you." The iron gates swung open with a well-oiled precision. Driving slowly, Alison admired the beautifully landscaped grounds. In the distance, she could see others entering the elegant clubhouse. The building, with rich woods and gleaming white stucco dappled with the mottled shadow of overhanging oaks and elms, was designed to compliment the park like golf course. Alison drew the Jeep up to the foot of the clubhouse steps. Checking her face in the rear view mirror, she smiled her approval at what she saw: black hair shot with the darkest brown, a spiral perm cascading down to milky shoulders, pale blue-tinged green eyes glistening like twin gemstones, a long narrow face with high cheekbones, the ripe beauty of her Mediterranean ancestors shining through. She was not beautiful in the typical North American white-bread sense, but she knew she was worthy of a second, even a third look. A slow smile widened across her face, red lips parting to show glistening white teeth, as Alison looked at the mirrored image of Julia. Her slave was in a state of near hysteria. A sheen of sweat gleamed across her nubile body as she huddled, bound hand and foot, inside the wire pet carrier in back of the jeep. A broad leather belt cinched her tightly at the waist. A strap led from the centre of the belt and disappeared into the mysterious space between Julia's legs. Nipple clamps with egg shaped devices hanging down, adorned each perfect breast. A bright red rubber ball spread Julia's lips in a most delicious fashion. Leather straps running all over the girl's face and head completed the harness gag. A faint humming sound could be heard after Alison shut down the jeep's ignition. Julia's hips bucked in the throes of yet another orgasm. "There there, dear," said Alison with a wicked smile. "You'll be out of your traveling case in just a moment." She took a small plastic remote control from her purse and punched in a combination of numbers. "And I'll just turn those things off for now." Julia's tear-filled eyes expressed her thanks as the vibrators stopped tormenting her nipples. "mmmPPH?" she mumbled behind the rubber ball. "Oh very well," said Alison impatiently, her fingers flicking more number pads on the remote control. The dildos filling both of Julia's lower passages also stopped their vibrating motions. "But I will remember this later, Julia!" A male voice interrupted. "Excuse me, madam." Alison turned in the driver's seat to see a man standing next to the open window. "My Lady Meranda Augusta welcomes you to West Roissy," he said. "I have been instructed to assist her guests." Alison turned in the driver's seat and took in the male with a practiced glance. He was about six feet tall, and dressed in a footman's livery: red waistcoat, tan breeches, a white shirt with ruffles at the collar and cuffs, black boots that gleamed in the sun. Two things distinguished him from the typical footman, however. He wore a wide black leather collar about his neck and black leather cuffs at his wrists; second, his costume was made entirely of form fitting rubber. "Well, isn't that nice of her," said Alison as the footman opened the door, offering his hand in assistance. Swinging her toned and shapely legs out the open door, Alison stepped down from the driver's seat. She smoothed her black leather miniskirt. Her eyes ran down his body, lingering at the bulging rubber between his legs. Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, then vanished back inside. "My bag and clubs are in the back," she said, tossing him her keys. "And be sure my pet is watered and allowed to stretch her legs." "As you wish Madam" he replied with a courtly bow. He raised an eyebrow as he admired the naked captive in the travel case. "Would you like her groomed and brought to you after dinner?" Alison smiled her pleasure. "Yes, that would be nice! But don't remove the belt." Turning, Alison confidently strode up the steps to the clubhouse doors. He watched Alison walk away, admiring the movement of her shapely buttocks in the tight leather skirt. The footman knew that he would be severely punished if his Mistress, the Lady Meranda, saw him, but he also knew that she was busy elsewhere. He was not concerned if Alison saw him, for that would only bring a scolding. Julia whimpered as the footman opened the back of the jeep. He gazed at the naked bound beauty in the small wire cage. Her eyes were very wide with fear and uncertainty. "Well little one," the footman began, "Your mistress has left you in my care for a while. We're going to scrub you clean, give you a thorough grooming, and prepare you for dinner. You'll be one of the serving girls, of course. " He poked his fingers through the wires and stroked one of Julia's breasts. Her movement at his touch made the egg-shaped vibrators sway. Ribbons of fiery pain raced through her tormented nipples and flesh at the motion. He smiled to see the painful pleasure his touch could cause. Reaching in, he turned the case 90 degrees so that Julia now faced the front. She squealed when he pinched her tautly stretched ass. But it was when he ran his fingers down the leather strap that split those two creamy globes that Julia really moaned her protest. She hated being touched by anyone but her beloved Maitresse! "Plugged tight, are you?" the footman mused. He tapped on the metal rivets holding the rubber intruders to the leather strap. Julia squealed again as the plugs moved inside her. "I wonder what this does?" he said, punching a button on the remote keypad. Julia screamed and bucked in the cage as the twin plugs came to life inside her. A droning sound could be heard underneath her moans and grunts. The footman laughed. He dropped the remote beside the cage, closed the back door, and, jingling the keys, casually strolled around to the driver's side. "Tally ho!" he exclaimed as he fired the ignition.
CHAPTER THREE: "Barn Storming" Moments later, Alison's jeep rolled to a stop in front of a large barn several hundred feet away from the clubhouse. Discreetly hidden by a grove of evergreens and cottonwoods, the area was beehive of activity amidst the serene landscape surrounding the clubhouse. Two muscular males, clad in leather thongs, metal collars about their necks, wrists and ankles, hurried over to the driver's door of the jeep. The first to reach the jeep immediately knelt on the hot asphalt. The footman stepped on the slave's back as he dismounted from the Jeep. "Take her inside and prepare her," he instructed. "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" the two males shouted in unison. As Lady Meranda's favourite, the footman was shown almost as much respect as the many Dom's who were constantly in attendance at the West Roissy Golf and Country Club. He alone was the only slave to be referred to as "sir", he alone could order punishment for failure to perform household chores adequately. A former staff sergeant , he ran the operation with military precision. It was his duty to ensure that everything ran smoothly, so that Lady Meranda could enjoy herself. All the time. And if she did not, then he was usually the first to experience her wrath. He did not like that, nor want that. He bore the scars, and the brand, to prove it. The two males hurried around to the back of the Jeep. Julia was moaning and whimpering inside her cage, but the well-trained males were oblivious to her plight. Swiftly, they pulled the cage from the back of the vehicle, and carefully - but not too gently, placed it and its bound occupant, on the ground. One male ran into the barn, reappearing a few moments later with a long wooden stave. Julia squealed as the male forced the pole through the ends of the cage. She tried to make herself smaller as the hard wood pressed against her back and arms. With a grunt, one on each end of the stave, the two males lifted the captive girl, cage and all. The cage rocked madly as they trotted toward the barn door. Each wild swing of the cage increased the torment caused her by the two plugs invading her intimate holes. Hurting physically and emotionally, Julia began to cry. The two males carried her to a holding area next to a small office. She was placed on the ground, the pole removed. Julia was left alone. Raising her head, and through her tear soaked eyes, she saw how other new arrivals were being treated. Inside the barn, slaves were busy at work washing and grooming other slaves, cleaning golf clubs and carts, and performing hundreds of other tasks, menial and otherwise. Some were occupied instructing the guest's slaves in their upcoming duties, while other slaves were being punished for mistakes, wrongdoings, or in more than one instance, just because the master or mistress thought it would be fun. Caged as she was, her range of vision was hampered. From what she could see, she was the only new arrival who was caged. There were several other slaves, male and female, in the immediate area. All were in some state of bondage, but that's where the similarities stopped. There was a male, slender and wiry, who was in what Julia recognized as the sirik - chains running from a neck collar to wrists and ankles, and joined in the middle. Mobility was enabled, but it was limited. She noticed that his collar had a gold dog tag, on which was engraved the name "colin", with a small "c". There were others, too, females, bound tightly to a pole-like device that attached to their neck collars, knees and ankles, forcing them to thrust their buttocks out in a most vulnerable way. The females lay on their sides, hands locked tight behind their backs. They could not move. Julia knew her Maitresse had made inquiries about a device called a "punishment rod"; she wondered if she was now seeing it in practice. "Oh!" Julia exclaimed in shock, pain and surprise at the sudden touch of an electric prod on her exposed butt. She could not turn around to see who it was that stood behind her. She wondered what she had done to deserve an electric shock. "Keep your head down, slave", growled the footman from behind the cage. "This one belongs to Mistress Alison. She is to be watered, cleaned, and allowed to stretch, according to her mistress. She will be part of Lady Meranda's after-dinner entertainment, so any marks are to be discreet and tasteful." "Yes sir," came a respectful female voice in reply. "Number 27, washed, cleaned, stretched and designated entertainment. And as for tomorrow, sir?" "Cart duty." "Yes sir, she will be measured and fitted right away." Fear and apprehension rocked Julia's petite frame when she heard the door to her cage being unlocked. What was to happen to her next? And it was to be done to her by strangers, not her treasured Maitresse? "Come out here, twenty-seven," ordered this strange, unseen female. Beset by cramps and stiff muscles, not to mention her tight environment and the straps which encircled her wrists, ankles and legs, Julia began to wriggle her way out of the cage. "Maitresse usually lifts it off me," she thought as she stuck her head and shoulders through the opening. "Where or where is my Maitresse?" "Hurry up, twenty-seven! I don't have all day!" barked the woman. With a grunt, Julia finally wormed her way out of the cage, and rolled over in a ball at the feet of her new instructor. She looked up to see a red haired woman holding a clipboard looking down at her. "My name is Nevada," the woman stated flatly. "I am Lady Meranda's slave mistress. She has placed me in charge of getting you and the other guest slaves cleaned and prepped for the weekend's events. As far as I am concerned, you are number 27. I don't care if you have a name, to me you're a number, got it?" Julia nodded her head. "Good. First, you are to be washed and cleaned. After that, you will be fitted for your cart duties, and finally, assigned your serving duties for the dinner tonight." Nevada checked off a number of items on a clipboard she was holding. Julia noticed that Nevada was also a slave, for she was collared and wore metal wrist cuffs. The clipboard led to her collar by a fine chain. "What are you looking at, twenty-seven?" Nevada growled. She made a note on her clipboard. "That's one punishment too - I don't have time to waste with you. " When Julia protested, Nevada smiled slyly and said, "That's a second punishment, sweetie." She gestured at some males standing nearby. "Here's number 27 for washing and cleansing. Tell me when she's done - I want to punish her myself." The two males picked her up and threw her in a trailer attached to a golf cart. Several other slaves, male and female, lay huddled on the floor of the trailer. Nevada grinned as the cart pulled away, before turning to the body lying before her. "Twenty-eight!" she roared at her next hapless victim. ---- The water was icy cold, the torrent a burst of needles. Julia writhed and squeezed her eyes shut as the water raced up and down her suspended form. The jet was powerful, so strong it hurt the skin wherever it touched. Nevada maliciously let it tarry against Julia's stretched breasts, concentrating on the brown buds of her nipples. They hardened with the cold. Water ran down from the girl's naked skin. She squealed as her tormentor turned the hose on the tender flesh between her legs. The burst of water against her clit was exciting and painful at the same time. She tried to twist away from the onslaught. Her bindings barely allowed her to wriggle and writhe, and there was to be no escape. Julia was a pet, pampered and unused to such harsh treatment. She worked hard to keep herself in top physical condition, like the dancer she had always wanted to be, because her Maitresse Alison preferred her that way. But this was getting to be too much for her already. Julia had been soaped down and scrubbed with a brush that felt rougher than any loofah, soaked with a warm water shower, then ordered to complete submerse herself in a tub of water as a final rinse. She had to stand perfectly still as a male rubbed her everywhere with a soft towel, even between her legs and up the crack of her buttocks. Using a fresh towel, he had dried her hair, and brushed it, too. Washed and dried, the slave girl was herded into a room where she was measured at the ankle, the knee, around the waist, at the wrist, the neck, across and even around her breasts. Even her head had been subjected to measurement, the tape passed around her forehead to the back of her skull. The number 27 was inscribed with a felt marker discreetly near her left armpit - she would have to raise her arm for anyone to see it. Even so, it felt good to be free of her bonds and out of the cage. She took advantage of every spare moment to stretch and limber her aching muscles. She was enjoying one of those stretches when she felt the whip across her ass. "Well, well," said Nevada. She smiled, tapping her riding crop in her left palm, as Julia looked over her shoulder to see who had struck her. "I think we can help you stretch those limbs little girl." Nevada gestured with her crop to one of the males standing nearby. "Take her to the punishment room." And now Julia was suspended, stretched, soaking wet, and very, very afraid. The bondage was simple, yet effective. Her hands had been closed into fists, wrapped in plastic wrap and then covered in black tape, rendering them totally useless. Her feet had been forced into a device that looked like ballet boots, only made of unforgiving steel. She could walk, but it took an effort. But walking was not to be part of her fate. Standing now on the balls of her feet, Julia's hands were fastened by leather cuffs attached to a metal bar and suspended as far above her head as she could reach. Nevada had pushed the girl's feet apart, instructing Julia that if she put her knees together, she would be strapped to a frame and placed on the fucking machine. "Mind you, you just might be on it tonight," she sneered, running more water across Julia's breasts and belly. She stopped the water spray, and picked up a bright red flogger. She slowly ran the strands down Julia's shoulder and breast, wetting them. "Interesting feeling isn't it?" she said. "I'd prefer to use a leather one on you my dear, it leaves such lovely marks when it's wet like this, " - she snapped the flogger at Julia's exposed pussy - "but I can't mark you. So I'll make do with this rubber one." The kiss of the wet rubber against her most tender area caused Julia to cry out in shock and sudden pain. "Oh, now now," pouted Nevada maliciously. "That didn't hurt, I hardly touched you." She snapped her wrist. The red rubber flew through the air with a hiss and landed with a resounding wet smack. Julia cried out in pain at the sharp bite of the flogger. "See, I can strike you harder." A third slash wrung a scream and a moan. Nevada moved close to the writhing girl. "Aw, poor baby, did that hurt?" she cooed. Nevada placed her hand against the rapidly rising red welts that crisscrossed Julia's lower abdomen. Julia flinched, but Nevada insisted. She thrust her hand into the warm wet flesh between her captive's legs. Julia cried out again as Nevada cruelly pinched her flesh. "Oh, you don't like that? " "Nuh, no, Mistress," the girl stammered. Nevada slapped her across a wet breast, leaving a pink handprint. "I'm not your mistress. Call me ma'am!" she demanded. "Yes ma'am," Julia sighed. Julia turned her head, following Nevada as the woman walked around her captive. The command "eyes down!" was punctuated with a slash of the rubber flogger across Julia's pert backside. "Ow! Yes ma'am!" "Hmpf," was Nevada's reply. She stood behind the suspended slave. With a flick of her wrist, the flogger struck out against wet white flesh. Julia begged and cried out as Nevada proceeded to punish her. After a dozen slashes, Julia's butt was quite pink and inflamed. "Too bad I can't mark you," Nevada said, slithering her hand across Julia's burning cheeks. She slapped the girl's flesh, then ran her hand into the dark space between her legs. "oh!" Julia cried out as Nevada thrust two fingers into her captive's hot moist passage. Moving her hand back and forth, Nevada laughed as Julia began to pump her hips in rhythm. "Oh my, you really like this," laughed Nevada when she felt Julia's inner muscles squeeze her fingers. She began to thrust harder, wriggling her fingers inside the girl, caressing tender flesh and bringing Julia closer and closer to an orgasm. Julia whimpered as Nevada withdrew her fingers. She was so close, and now, nothing! She screamed as Nevada struck her suddenly again and again and again with the flogger. The wet rubber strands stung like bees as they slapped against her already aching labia and clit. "No-o-!" she moaned, raising her legs in self-defense. The cruel beating of her wet pussy continued relentlessly. Julia could feel heat building in her crotch even as each successive blow rained down against her most tender flesh. The incessant flogging of her clit and slit was going to make her cum, she realized in horror, shock and pleasure. The heat and intense pain/pleasure built and grew, spreading from her vagina through her lower belly. Her legs, weighted down by the steel ballet boots, jerked spasmodically. Involuntarily, Julia pressed her knees together just as the flogger kissed her inner thighs.
CHAPTER FOUR: "Crime and Punishment" "Well little slut," growled Nevada, "I warned you about closing your legs, didn't I?" Julia, astounded, could only nod yes. As soon as the flogger touched her aching pussy, Julia had felt an incredible, irresistible urge to squeeze down as her orgasm began. But when she squeezed, she closed her legs about the rubber strands that were causing her so much pleasure and pain. And that was the problem. Now it appeared she was going to pay for her transgression. And pay dearly. Angered, Nevada had yanked the rubber flogger from between the poor girl's legs and smacked her hard, once, across each breast. When Julia cried out, Nevada had told her to "shut the fuck up!", and swiftly stuffed a rubber ball harness gag into Julia's mouth. Tears welling in her eyes, Julia could only watch helplessly as the now angry slave mistress wheeled over a punishment frame. The insidious looking device would hold Julia immobile and uncomfortable while Nevada released her wrath. Julia's feet were released from the steel boots. The frame was pushed behind her - she could feel the cold steel press against the back of her thighs. She had no choice - she raised both legs, placing a tremendous strain on her suspended arms, and found herself perched, legs spread wide, on a V shaped device. But the frame did not have a join on the apex of the V; instead, Julia's ass and pussy were exposed in a semi-squat. Nevada quickly ran leather straps across the girl's thighs, pinning her to the frame. A strap just below the knee and a second strap at the ankle fixed her legs in place. Nevada lowered the suspension bar so she would have access to Julia's wrist cuffs. One at a time, she locked them to the frame at a spot right by the girl's feet. Another, longer strap was passed around each arm and leg where the elbow touched the inner calf, rendered her immobile. Now Julia was compressed into a very stressful squat, her breasts hanging down and easily accessible; her anus, clit and labia even more so. Finally, Nevada snapped a hook through the D ring at the top of the ball gag, and raised the chain. Julia's head was now securely suspended, facing forward. There was no possible way for her to move her head down or back, only from side to side. The strain on her neck and shoulders was intense. Julia's eyes were wide with terror. Nevada's eyes narrowed and gleamed with vicious pleasure, like a serpent about to strike. With powerful strides, the slave mistress crossed the room and picked up the hose once more. Julia protested into the rubber ball, but only pitiful mewling sounds came out. She screamed in her throat as the cold jet of water hit her breasts. Part of the stream shot through the valley between them, and passed over her belly and pubes. Her eyes scrunched shut at a blast of water against her face. The water gushed up her nose, making her snort like a bull. Nevada laughed, then went behind the frame and sprayed Julia's back. She traced her way down the vertebrae of Julia's spine and into the valley between the girl's cheeks. Another scream from her prey as the water blasted against tender, sensitive flesh. The nozzle clattered as it hit the floor. Nevada crossed the room once again, first turning off the water at the faucet, then picking up a slender golden colored wand. "No marks, my dear," she said, tapping the metal device against her palm. "And no marks will I leave!" She reached forward and ran the rounded tip of the metal device against Julia's shoulder and down her arm. There was a soft click!. And suddenly Julia screamed. "Oh, poor 27, did that shock you?" teased the slave mistress. "You know, as a slave in charge of other slaves, I get punished if pretty little things like you don't live up to my Mistress's expectations. I don't like being punished." Another click! And touch of the wand, ever so light. The current jumped with a purple spark from the golden tip to the soft white flesh. Another touch, another click, another grunt from the tortured slave girl. "And because I don't like to feel this little toy against my flesh, " Nevada now held the wand up to Julia's face and tapped the tip with a manicured nail. Julia's eyes were enormously round in panic. "I like to emphasize to my charges how well I expect them to perform." "You, pampered little pet, happened to piss me off because I have been instructed not to leave any marks on your poor delicate body," Nevada cooed. She touched the wand against the sole of Julia's foot. Almost simultaneous with the click, Julia grunted and jumped in the frame. "And because I can't mark you," Nevada continued, "I thought I would be sure to amuse myself with you in a much more creative way." She ran the golden rod up the inside of Julia's thigh before flicking the switch. Julia moaned in pain. It was the shock on her breast that made Julia really jump. But it was the electrical kiss of her nipple that made her scream. "Amazing how a little water conducts electricity, isn't it?" purred the slave mistress. "Just wait until you see how well pussy juice conducts it!" Julia began to cry. "Maitresse!" she begged in her mind. "I want my Maitresse!"
CHAPTER FIVE: "Food for Thought" DINNER WAS FORMAL. It began promptly at 8:00 p.m. after cocktails in the dining room. Lady Meranda Augusta's guests had flown and/or driven in from all over the world for this exceptional and unusual tourney. Masters and Mistresses sported their finest dinner jackets and formal gowns. Although elegant fabrics were the order of the day, there were some spectacular creations in leather and latex. Lady Meranda Augusta, as hostess, was resplendent in a piercingly blue latex formfitting sheath. It fit her as smooth and snug as the famous "Happy Birthday Mr. President" dress adorned its wearer. Happily, Meranda shared the same lush hourglass-shaped female form as that renowned blonde: at slightly over 5 foot 4 and 130 pounds, she too was all voluptuous curves. With a toss of her honey coloured shoulder length hair, Meranda sensuously glided to the podium placed at the picture window overlooking the course. "Ladies and gentlemen," she began. Her voice boomed overtop the chattering of conversations and clinking of glasses. "Dinner will be served in a few moments, and then we will all have an opportunity to know one another. And tomorrow of course, " she paused, the room still with anticipation, "Tomorrow we will have our game." Lady Meranda smiled at the outburst of applause and cheers from her guests. "But there are one or two rules I would like to mention. Tonight, after dinner, we will have the annual parade of slaves." Meranda paused as hoots and hollers broke out. "Remember, tonight there is to be no trading, swapping or selling of slaves. Neither a lender nor a borrower nor a seller be!" She smiled sweetly. "Tonight, that is. Tomorrow night, who knows?" Meranda nodded at the footman, then wiggled her way back to her table, greeting several of her guests as she passed. The footman, in turn, knocked on the swinging doors behind him. The serving teams began entering the room, two at a time. Male slaves, each naked from the neck down, hooded, arms bound tightly behind in a single glove, carried trays fastened by chains to their neck collars and waist belts. Females, obviously the servers, high stepped en pointe, their naked buttocks jiggling as they pranced along in ballet boots. Each female led a male, their pairing joined by a length of chain locked to their respective neck collars. The females had some mobility in their arms although they too were in bondage. Chains leading from wrist cuffs to waist belts allowed the female slaves just enough movement to take a plate from a tray and present it to the awaiting Master or Mistress. Of course, they had to be very careful not to droop the chain dangling from their nipple rings across a plate, let alone drop the dish. Alison scanned the room looking for Julia. She spotted her pet slavegirl serving some tables over. Alison smiled at the sight. Julia had excellent table manners. She had trained Julia well. "Pity she isn't wearing her maid's costume", Alison thought. "She looks so cute in it." With the ringing of a bell, the conversational buzz in the dining room quietly softened, then stopped. Still at her table, Lady Meranda Augusta had risen to her feet, a small black box in her hand. "Ladies and gentlemen," she began over the clatter of silver on china. The room slowly stilled. "I have a new diversion for your dining pleasure. You will notice a small black box like this one," she raised her hand, "in the centre of your table. It is a remote control device. Here's how it works." Lady Meranda pushed a button on the device. "nnNNNHHHhh!" A female slave in the corner of the room suddenly began to moan and groan.. The plate she was holding fell to the floor with a crash. "Oh! Unh! Ohhhh!" the girl was gasping out. Her hips bucked enthusiastically. The room came alive with startled conversation. Lady Meranda rang her bell once more. "You'll notice all the servers are wearing what look like chastity devices. For your amusement, some of them are fitted with either vibrating dildos or electroshock stimulators." The gathering "oooed" their surprise. Several applauded Lady Meranda's creativity. "Thank you," she said modestly. "But here's the amusing aspect to this bit of dinnertime entertainment. "First, your table's remote will not necessarily activate the slave serving you - you'll just have to watch and see who reacts when you press the button. It might be a female, it might be a male server whose belt is set for your frequency. "And here's the part I'm sure you'll like best: any slave dropping a plate or otherwise not fulfilling his or her duties, even if they are being stimulated, will be severely punished - and I will determine the punishment." More scattered applause interrupted her words. "For example, look for this lovely" - she indicated the now trembling serving girl being held roughly by the footman - "on the 12th hole tomorrow. Enjoy your dinner!" The room burst into applause as she sat down. Instantly there was a scramble at each table. Male and female slaves alike were suddenly subjected to painful pleasurable stimulation as buttons were clicked around the room. No one knew who was stimulating whom, and no one cared - it was too much fun watching plates and glasses and wine bottles being juggled, and often spilled. The cry of "this one!" and "she spilt my dinner!" mixed with hoots of raucous laughter created a din in the room. The footman was busy scurrying from slave to slave, marking those who were doomed with a bright red 'X'. The Master seated next to Alison, a Bedouin dressed in formal dinner jacket and white burnoose, jumped back as the slave girl serving him started. She reached for the meat entree with her bare hands as it slid from the plate and launched itself like a sauteed projectile toward his lap. Alas for both, her wrist chain pulled taut and the meat slipped from her grasp. With a plop! it landed on his thigh. Demonstrating amazing aplomb, the Master rose, muttering oaths in Arabic. He picked the meat from his lap and wiped it across her breast and chest. The meat left a greasy 'X' on her naked flesh. The slave girl cringed. "Hassan, why not have her lick it off your leg?" amused one of the other table guests. "It's not as good as dry cleaning but ever so much more fun!" The footman appeared and surveyed the scene. He bowed respectfully. "Sir, we will of course have your trousers cleaned overnight." The table laughed as Hassan smiled and unzipped his fly and began removing his pants. "Well, if I'm going to go without dinner," he said, "I'll have to be satisfied some other way!" Alison and the others at the table howled their glee. "I'll have a new plate brought to you, Sir," the footman said ignoring Hassan's dangling member. "Perhaps Sir would care to retire and change while a new dish is prepared?" Hassan growled his agreement, and zipped his pants closed. "But what will Hassan have for his 'just desserts'?" mocked Alison. "Pun fully intended". Lady Meranda's footman turned to Alison. "Dessert will be my Lady Meranda's favourite: fresh local strawberries, soaked in liqueur and their juices, atop sweet biscuit drizzled with rum and garnished with creme fraiche, Mistress." Alison's face lit up. She clapped her hands with delight. "Strawberry shortcake!" she exclaimed. "Indeed, Master Hassan will have 'strawberry shortcake', Mistress" the footman said with a bow, his expression blank.
CHAPTER SIX: "Waiting can be such a pain" COLIN COULDN'T TAKE HIS EYES OFF HER. She squirmed in her bondage, helpless, trapped. He didn't know what colour her hair or eyes, for a latex hood covered her head like a black, shiny glove. She could only make mewling sounds, for a bright red rubber ball - he imagined it was the colour of her luscious lips - filled her mouth. He watched as a bead of sweat trickled down from beneath the rubber garment across her exposed breast. Fear and desire were bringing her body to a fever pitch beneath the shiny latex. He wondered what she would taste like. He wanted to flick that little bead of sweat with his tongue, taste its salty wetness against the hot smoothness of her porcelain skin. She wriggled again. He wondered: was it a desire to escape that made her move about so, or was it something else? Her bondage was certainly imaginative. She had been placed in the stocks, but not in the usual fashion. Whoever had designed the device had been thinking creatively. In addition to the usual openings, large rings were imbedded in the frame, enabling the stocks to be used in a variety of ways. She had been placed face out, her arms over the stocks, with her wrists pulled through the appropriate holes in the unforgiving wood frame, and chained there. She was contorted, her nubile frame bent slightly backward, facing the room, totally open, unable to resist. He let his gaze roam down her body, admiring the way she was dressed. Arms sheathed in opera length latex gloves. A tight, tight rubber top, with holes for her breasts to be exposed and played with. A broad leather collar to keep her head erect. He thought she was a vision in rubber. Her legs looked extra long and smooth in the second skin of shiny latex. He wanted to run his tongue and hands up and down their sleek length, and lovingly caress the furry region between them. The leg stocks kept her legs wide apart. Fiendishly, a long pole extended upward from the middle of the bar. A penis shaped device attached to the end of the pole was pressed against her, its hard plastic tip just barely penetrating her crease - enough to tantalize and torment, but not nearly enough to satisfy. He wondered if the tip brushed her clit when she moved - that would certainly explain why she wriggled so much! She was an angel, a dream in bondage. If only he could touch her, caress her, kiss her, taste her, fuck her! He could fell the heat in his groin as he watched her, the familiar swelling as the blood rushed once more into the cock that used to be his, but which now belonged to someone else. He too, was bound, helpless, unable to move. Colin was more naked than the girl was, for he wore only a neck collar, a gag, and, almost perversely he thought, latex stockings. Unlike the girl, only a few short, tempting feet away, he was not blindfolded. His bondage was not as stressful as hers: he was a prisoner of the bondage chair. Arms outstretched and strapped tightly to the wooden crossbar. His legs, like hers, spread far apart, ankles cuffed to the chair legs and broad leather straps above his knees. His cock and balls dangled between his splayed legs for all the world to see. His genitals were bound, too - small leather straps around his balls, pulling them down from their nesting place at the root of his cock, a strategically placed strap separating them, increasing their sensitivity. His cock was imprisoned from root to just below its purple head in a long leather sheath. The girl moaned in fear at the sound of the dungeon door opening. "Well my pet," purred the woman, "it's almost show time. And I'm sure you'll put on a very entertaining show." The Mistress walked across the room to where the girl stood helpless. Alison was wearing her Catwoman domina outfit - a skin tight, shiny black latex catsuit that fit as if it were sprayed on. Her muscles literally rippled as she moved, causing many a man's - and woman's - mouth to water. Cleverly placed hidden fasteners enabled her to expose any body parts she wanted her slave to worship. When Alison wore this outfit, she was in a particularly feisty and demanding mood. The girl trembled in anticipation. With her bright red lacquered nails, Alison gingerly caressed the girl's breast. Julia gasped in pleasure at the unseen touch. Looking back at the male slave, Alison touched the bead of sweat where it clung to the girl's hard nipple. As if she could read his mind, Alison flicked it to her fingertip, and dropped it on her tongue. "Mmmm, you'd like to lick the sweat off her, wouldn't you?" she smiled at the male. "Maybe you'll get that chance," she said coyly, slowly bending toward the girl. "And maybe you won't". The girl moaned again as her Maitresse took a nipple in her mouth and sucked on it greedily. She ran her hot red tongue around the pink aureole, her hand squeezing the tender flesh, making the nipple swell. Alison laughed as she raised her head. She leaned forward, and traced the girl's lips with her tongue, wringing another moan from behind the rubber ball. "Soon, we'll have that out of your delicious mouth, Julia my darling," Alison soothed, one hand caressing the girl's rubber covered head, the other roaming her rubber clad body. Colin's heartbeat skipped as this magnificent Mistress turned her gaze in his direction. She swayed the few steps to stand before him, hands on her luscious hips. She filled his vision, blotting out all else, even the girl who was his fellow sufferer-to-be. Alison slowly moved closer, insinuating herself into the space between his legs. Faster and faster, his heart pounded as she neared him. He could smell her perfume now, and its scent intoxicated him. She closed the distance between them, pressing her rubber clad body against his. Her mound came to his face. He felt he would gladly suffocate with his face pressed into Her feminine core. As if from a distance, he could hear the Mistress tell the two slaves that there was something special in store for them at tonight's gathering. Suddenly, the Mistress crouched down before him, her eyes level with his. She smiled her wicked smile. "Comfy, slave?" She whispered, gripping his balls in her cats paw. He threw his head back. Laughing, she released his tender flesh. Instead, she ran her nails down his chest. "We'll be changing the way you are, too," she cooed. She leaned forward, sticking her tongue in his ear, She nibbled on his lobe, then slowly, delightfully, ran her tongue from his ear across his face. She leaned back, and kissed her fingertip. "Soon," she said, as she placed the kiss on his gagged mouth. The dungeon door opened. An Arabic man, followed by two women, entered the room. He walked, they crawled. The man was wearing leather chaps and pouch. He held two leashes in his hand. One chain led to the collar of each of the naked women who crawled behind him. The procession headed over to where the female slave referred to as Julia stood in the stocks. "Mistress Alison, what a pleasant surprise," he said upon discovering he was not the only Domme in the room. "Hassan," acknowledged Alison. It was evident she did not care for the man. "This one here," Hassan pointed at Julia in the stocks, "she is yours, yes?" "Yes, that is my pet," Alison replied. "She is to be part of this evening's entertainment." "Ah, delightful! I look forward to seeing her perform!" Hassan smiled, his expression almost evil. "Our hostess has asked me to fetch her. " Hassan ordered his two companions. "Prepare her for the show," "Yes master," they replied in unison. Rising, they moved toward the helpless woman. Swiftly Julia's arms were released from the stocks, then cuffed behind her. The Master beckoned to one of the women. The slave girl fell to her knees before him, head bowed. "She needs these," he said as he reached to gather the chain which dangled between the slave girl's nipples. "I'll give you something else soon enough." Tugging on the chain, he raised the slave girl to her feet. She gasped as he unsnapped the two nipple clamps. He dropped the metal into the slave girl's hand, and then nodded in Julia's direction. One girl leaned and took the captive girl's nipple in her mouth. She sucked it hard. With the speed of a snake, the second girl snapped the nipple clamp on the swollen pink flesh. Wickedly, she let the chain drop from her hand. The captive girl cried out behind her gag. "Tulip! Bad!" growled Hassan. The Master swatted his impudent slave on her ass, his hand leaving bright red marks. The girl immediately dropped to her knees before him. "You'll be punished for that, tulip" he growled. "Be careful you don't take her place." "Yes master," the girl named Tulip whimpered. She kissed his feet, worming her way up his leg. He pushed her away. "Later," he stated flatly. The second nipple was quickly clamped. Julia mewled at the pleasurable pain firing through her chest. "Hassan, you called this one Tulip?" Alison gestured at the slavegirl who lay near his feet. "Yes, this impudent one is Tulip. The other is Daisy. I like to give my slave's new names. It emphasizes their status is possessions, that they belong to me." "Hmm, interesting. But I prefer to keep my pet's identity, as it was when she first gave herself to me, "Alison saidIsn't that right, Julia my love?" Alison stroked Julia where the dildo prod met her furry crease. "She's very wet," said Alison. She thrust her fingers in the direction of one of the two girls, who promptly and eagerly licked the Mistress's hand. "Release her." Tulip, the girl who had dropped the nipple chain, quickly moved to the dildo prod. Loosening the lock, she pushed it up, hard, into the helpless captive, making Julia gasp in pain. Tulip then pulled the dildo down its supporting rod, slowly sliding it out from inside Julia. Hassan and Alison exchanged glances as they watched the impudence of the already cautioned slave. The leg stocks were unlocked. Pulling on the nipple chain, Alison commanded Julia to move forward. She snapped a leash on the girl's collar, and placed the other end in the mouth of the second slave girl, who stood quietly by. "Take her to the hall." The lead in her mouth, the second slave girl turned and crawled away, leading the still blindfolded Julia out of the dungeon room. The Master and Mistress turned their attention to the other slave girl, who also stood quiet. "Knees," the Master commanded. The girl dropped, eyes downcast. "You have been bad, Tulip. You deserve punishment, right?" "Yes Master," the slave named Tulip whispered. "Then punishment is what you will receive," he said. He grasped Tulip's wrists and pulled them behind her back. He pulled a leather glove from the wall, and slid it over her hands, buckling them together at the wrist. He pulled a leather armbinder from a shelf, and passed it over her arms. Pulled it tight, forcing her elbows together, crisscrossing the straps between her breasts. "Back." Tulip lay on the floor. He kicked her legs apart, and locked a spreader bar to her ankle cuffs. Grabbing the centre of the bar, he pulled her legs up in the air. A hook dangled from a hoist; he snapped it to the ring in the centre of the bar. He pulled on a rope and Tulip was drawn into the air in a flash. "Think about your punishment while we enjoy the show," he said to her. He turned to the Mistress. "Mistress Alison, shall we get him ready, then join the others?" Alison smiled as she looked over at Colin. "It will be a pleasure," she said. Colin shuddered.
CHAPTER SEVEN: "It's My Party and You'll Cry if I want to" JULIA WAS PULLED ALONG BEHIND A LEASH. She had no idea where she was going, or what was to take place. It frightened her, it excited her. The pull on the leash stopped. Hands grasped her shoulders. Julia stood still, unable to see, unable to speak. The tight rubber hood she wore muffled sound, but she could hear. She gasped as unseen hands tugged on the chain attached to her tender nipples. A woman laughed. A slap across her breast. Fire raced through her breasts and chest. The chains made a jangling sound. A touch on her naked buttocks. A second hand caressed her furry mons. She arched her back in pleasure/fear. Julia felt something being attached to her right ankle. When she moved her foot ever so slightly, she felt the pull of a chain. She waited for the process to be repeated on her other leg, but nothing happened. Strong hands grasped each of her wrists, holding her captive. She felt a strap being attached to a ring in the back of the collar she wore. One at a time, her arms were bent at the elbow, the wrist cuffs locked to the strap. The bondage position made her back arch, causing her to thrust her breasts forward through the holes in the rubber garment she wore. She could feel the sweat running beneath it. Was it from the heat? Was it anticipation? Or something darker still? Hands on her shoulders forced Julia to her knees. The ballgag was unfastened - she flexed her jaws in relief. To her surprise, the rubber hood encasing her head was unfastened and removed. Julia blinked in the sudden brightness - she had been blindfolded for what seemed to her to be hours. She kept her gaze downcast - she knew that for a slave to look on a master or mistress without permission was a serious error, and she had enough to worry about. Alison walked across the room to where the girl stood helpless. A skin tight, shiny black latex catsuit that looked like it was sprayed on caressed every inch of the Mistress's well-shaped body. She moved like a sleek and predatory jungle cat, silently, every muscle rippling with eagerness for the hunt. She let her gaze roam down the slave girl's body, admiring the way she had been prepared. Arms sheathed in opera length latex bondage mitts. A tight, tight rubber top, with holes for her breasts to be exposed and played with. A broad leather collar to keep her head erect. Julia's legs looked extra long and smooth in the second skin of shiny latex stockings. Watching this tableau unfold, Mistress and her slavegirl, Lady Meranda licked her lips in pleasurable anticipation. Even with her eyes lowered, Julia could not help but see the long, shapely legs of her beloved Maitresse. She could see other pairs of feet and legs near her, some barefoot, some in stockings and heels or leather boots. She didn't say a word as hands entwined themselves in her hair, and jerked her head back. Julia looked up into the hard, loving gaze of her Maitresse. "Well, my pretty little slave," cooed Alison. "You've been selected to put on a show for us. Behave yourself, and perform well, and I will reward you later. " "Yes Mistress," Julia demurely replied. The woman planted a hard kiss on Julia's mouth. A hot tongue insinuated itself between her red lips, prying open her teeth and sweeping through the now open cavern. As suddenly as it began, the kiss was broken off. "Thank you, Mistress," Julia stammered, a hot blush sweeping her face. Tenderly, Alison lovingly caressed her slave girl's cheek, smiled, then walked away to a table nearby. Lady Meranda strode to the centre of the room where Julia stood trembling. The dominatrix gestured in the direction of a nearby slave who was obviously awaiting a command. The girl crept forward, offering the Mistress a jumble of leather straps. "You will wear this for our pleasure," dictated Lady Meranda to the hapless slavegirl. Expertly she began buckling straps in place - in a flash, Julia was gagged once more, this time a round plastic tube kept her mouth open. Smiling, Meranda slithered a finger into the gaping hole. "Mmmm, this will be fun. We know we're going to enjoy it, but you know what?" The woman's voice took on a darker tone. "We don't care if you do!!" purred the silky feminine voice. ---- FROM WHERE HE SAT, tied to the bondage chair, Colin could see the impudent female slave, suspended upside down with her legs wide apart, her sex exposed for all the world to see. A man, the one who had been in the room before with Mistress Alison, entered the room. The Master crossed the room, oblivious to Colin, and stood before the female. He ran his hands up her legs from her thigh to her ankles, then slowly back down again. She squirmed in her suspension at his touch. "You're the hot one, aren't you!" he laughed. He ran his fingers through her muff, wringing a moan from the girl. Laughing, he began to slap her female core, not hard, but in a steady rhythm. She began to move in response to his touch. After more than a dozen slaps, he reached behind her and gave her ass a resounding smack! Tulip jerked in her bondage, and he began beating out a rhythm on her splayed slit once more. Every so often he would deliver a stinging slap to her thighs, her ass, her breasts, but always he would return to his steady ministrations. The girl began to buck as he masturbated her. "Not so fast!" he said. He pressed his body against hers, wrapping his arms around her legs, stopping her movement. Tulip cried out in pleasure as he suddenly buried his face in her exposed sex. His head bobbed and circled as he tongued her, drawing gasps and cries from the suspended slave. "Please master, let me come!" begged Tulip. "Not yet, little slut!" he laughed. Carefully so as to keep her from falling, he lowered her to the ground. Tulip lay still as he detached the spreader bar. He drew her to her feet by her collar. "You're to be punished for your impudence." He hooked a leash to her collar. Bending down, he fastened a short hobble chain to her ankle cuffs - she could walk, but only with tiny, mincing steps. "You're to be put on display," he said. He tugged on the leash and began to walk to the door. "Now, heel!" Tulip was led down a hallway to another door. The girl was not surprised to see the people in the party room - after all, her master had brought her there to assist in the party and festivities. But several things had changed while she was suspended in the "green room", as the dominants had called it. The slave girl Julia, whom she had treated so impudently, was tethered to a ring in the floor. A male slave knelt worshipping at a dom's boots, his upraised butt serving as a table for drinks. He was very careful not to spill! Other tops indulged in various amusements with bottoms, or just ignored them altogether and chatted among themselves. Tulip noticed one of the mistresses watching her, so she immediately cast her glance downward. Master Hassan was leading her to a corner of the room. She concentrated on following him - she did not want to stumble and fall, not with her arms still in the leather sheath! He stopped before a raised platform. She could see what looked like a motor resting on a table at one end of the platform, but she could not see what else was there. Tulip stood still as Hassan turned to face her. Again, he pressed his body tight against hers. She felt his chest hairs against her nipples. His hard cock bulged beneath the leather pouch he wore; she could feel its solidity pressing against her naked flesh. Hassan put his arms around her, and grasped the wrist strap to the arm sheath. He stepped back, raising the sheath, forcing her to bend at the waist. Stretching forward, she gave his chest a tentative lick, tasting his hair against her tongue. "Is he going to suspend me like this?" she thought. Master Hassan had suspended her in this position many times. Tulip well understood the stresses it placed on the leg muscles, not to mention the shoulders. She almost creamed as she remembered the feel of her master's cock, sliding in and out of her from behind while the position rendered her helpless. The Master released his grip. Tulip remained as she was, bending at the waist, arms in the air. His swollen cock sprang free as he unsnapped the leather pouch. She dared a glance at his face, as she felt the hands grab her head. Tulip opened her mouth, impaling herself on Hassan's hard meat. Slowly, as she had been trained to do, she slid her mouth up and down his shaft. She licked the purple head with her tongue, paying special attention to the sensitive circumsized skin beneath, leaving a glistening trail of saliva behind. The hands pushed her head down once more, holding her there. Tulip felt his cock thrust to the back of her throat, causing her to gag. Suddenly, to her surprise, Tulip felt several pairs of hands on her body, lifting her from the ground. The master she was sucking stepped back, releasing himself from her mouth. She could feel herself being picked up bodily. Hands kept her legs apart while she was carried over to the platform. Now she could see the small bench at the centre of the platform. It was narrow, padded leather. Tulip felt the cold leather against her belly, her breasts hanging free as she was made to lie face down on the bench. The leather bench was very small and narrow, and only just supported her weight. Her ankles were released from the hobble chain, only to have strong hands pull them wide apart. Chains attached to rings in the side of the platform kept her legs widely spread, so much so that her feet did not touch the wooden platform. Hands pulled her head back - Tulip opened her mouth as something hard was pressed against it. She could see it was a woman who was gagging her. From the feel of her mouth, she knew the gag was identical to the one the red haired slave wore, a gag designed to keep her mouth open and available for use by any one. Swiftly a blindfold was pulled over her eyes. She was beginning to understand what the master had meant when he said she was to be put on display! Hands supported her shoulders. Tulip felt the leather arm sheath being unbuckled, releasing her arms. Instinctively she lowered her hands to touch the surface of the platform, trying to help support her weight. She felt a bar being attached to her wrist cuffs, imprisoning her arms, She heard a lock being snapped shut - when she tried to raise her arms, they moved only about an inch - the bar had been secured to the platform! Now she was truly helpless. Tulip lowered her head. "We'll have none of that, slut!" came a woman's imperious voice. A hand entwined her hair once more, raising her head up. Tulip felt something hard being placed beneath her chin. "This will keep that mouth of yours in just the right position," said the unseen mistress. The slave girl tried, but she could no longer lower her head. She felt a finger intrude in her mouth,a foreshadowing of what was yet to come. The first blow of the whip across her buttocks made her jump. The pain raced like wildfire through her as she was whipped. The blows landed on her ass, against the backs of her thighs. Six, ten, twenty strokes. Tulip moaned as hands rubbed and kneaded her burning cheeks. The sudden striking of a riding crop in the tender valley between her cheeks made her cry out. Some one said, "Now it's time to warm you up." The flogging was methodical, purposeful. Tulip winced and shuddered as the cat-o-nine tails was used on various parts of her exposed body. The blows were not hard enough to mark, but delivered with enough impact to bring the blood to the top of the skin, making Tulip's whole body feel as if it were on fire. "Oh slave, you should see how your body is heating up," said the mistress. "Such lovely red stripes! And so many of them!" The rhythm of the blows changed, from soft, almost loving to harsh thwacks, then to soft again. Some times two or three fell rapidly, then there would be a steady rhythm of four or five, each spaced a second or two apart. "Bring me another whip," demanded the mistress. The rhythm of the whipping changed again as the mistress used two cats, raining blows all over Tulip's splayed body. Hard, soft, rapidly in bunches, and then one at a time. Tulip lost all count of how many times she was struck with the whips. Clusters of fiery red blotches appeared on her inner thighs, her back, across her breasts, her buttocks. Tulip whimpered, her whole body and especially her ass and thighs, suffused with a burning heat. "The show is about to start," commanded a woman from somewhere behind Tulip. "Prepare her, then go get the male." The cool oil that dribbled between her ass cheeks felt wonderfully soothing. She wriggled her bottom as a hand gently worked the oil around the tender flesh. The slippery touch on her slit made Tulip gasp. A slickened finger invaded her anally, making her squirm. A hand massaged and rubbed the oil into her female core. Tulip reveled in the sensations. Then, as suddenly as it began, the hands were withdrawn. Tulip lay there, panting, desperately wondering what was to happen next, and then, after that? Tulip winced at the bite of the nipple clamps. Her nipples were pinched and stretched at the same time, as weights were added to the clamps. Her breath was sucked in hard as the weights were made to spin, the motion sending rockets of painful pleasure through her already burning breasts. Fingers rubbed her labia, parting the tender flesh, exposing her opening. Tulip felt pressure against her slit, something large and hard. Instinctively, she moved toward the object, the motion making the nipple weights swung in a pendulum motion. The object plunged into her, filling her inner core. She was almost overwhelmed by the fullness of the object inside her. She wanted it to move, to fuck her hard, to bring her to the release she enjoyed so much. She squeezed her muscles, and rotated her hips as much as her bonds would allow her. Frustration grew as she realized that she was stretched out so wickedly she could hardly move. The mistress watching slashed at Tulip's ass with her whip. Tulip jumped and cried out at the sudden pain. "You'll have plenty of time for that, you hot little slut!" sneered the mistress. "As you will soon find out!" Tulip heard a humming noise. Suddenly, the dildo began to move. The hard plastic cock invading her, was pulled back, then plunged into her again, just as if it were a man fucking her. The in-out motion continued, the artificial cock pumping in and out, in and out, the rhythm of strokes steady and without rest or mercy. She realized the humming noise was the sound of a motor - the cock was mechanized! The mistress patted Tulip's ass cheeks, adding to the captive girl's sensations. Tulip squirmed as something was slipped into her anus. Then, a second small object, and a third - she realized she was to be filled with anal beads, too. --- LADY MERANDA CHUCKED THE SLAVEGIRL JULIA under the chin with her riding crop. Obediently the girl raised her head, but not her eyes. "Good girl," purred Lady Meranda. "Remember the impudent slave in our 'Green Room'? Look and see what she is going through." She steered the slave's head toward a corner of the room. "Aren't you glad you're not in her place?" Julia stared at the tableau unfolding in the corner of the room. Tulip was stretched and spreadeagled, held almost immovable by a cunning arrangement of straps and fetters. She was being used three ways at once. Her chin supported by a head rest, a master was making the most of her mouth, sliding his swollen cock in and out as a gag held her jaws wide open. Julia knew she wore the same type of gag, and a delicious tremor of anticipation shuddered down her spine. She saw Tulip's hips pump and grind as she was mercilessly fucked by a dildo attached to a rod. Julia's eyes grew wider as she realized that the dildo was connected to by the rod to a small motorized pump - Tulip would have no respite until someone turned the motor off. A mistress dressed in leather was slowly removing anal beads from Tulip's ass. Each time she pulled a bead out, she smacked the girl's ass with a rubber whip. Every time Tulip jerked in reaction to the whip, the man fucking her mouth would moan in pleasure. "I wonder how long she'll be able to stand that," mused Lady Meranda. Reaching down, she stroked Julia's breast. "Or how long you could take that treatment, hmmm?" Julia watched as the Mistress who had been whipping Tulip rested the whip on the girl's back. Stopping the motor, the mistress attached some wires leading from a small black box to a raised portion on the dildo, most of which was still penetrating the slavegirl. Satisfied she had the connections right, the Mistress picked up the black box and restarted the motor. "Well, this will be interesting," mused Lady Meranda. "Slave Tulip's about to get a new surprise. A shocking surprise, if you will." Mistress laughed. The dildo resumed pumping in and out of Tulip. Holding the box with one hand, the mistress turned a dial. Tulip moaned into the cock filling her mouth. Her hips bucked wildly. "You see, slave," Lady Meranda explained, "it's not just motorized, but every time the knobs on the plastic cock touch her labia or clit, she gets a mild shock. Not enough to hurt her, at least, not yet - the mistress can increase the voltage", she mused. Julia watched as the girl writhed in her bondage, helpless and tormented. The mistress turned Julia's head to face her own gaze. "Maybe I'll let you experience that later," she said menacingly. "What do you think, hmmm?" Julia's eyes widened in fear. Lady Meranda laughed. "Don't worry, I have something quite amusing in mind for you." She saw two slaves lead a bound male into the room. She clapped her hands, and announced, "Come everybody, it's time for the fox and hound!" She turned to Julia with an evil grin. "And you're the fox the hound must catch!"
CHAPTER EIGHT: "The Fox and Hound" TWO SLAVES DRAGGED COLIN INTO THE ROOM. They stopped where instructed by one of the Mistresses. His bondage had changed in preparation for his role in "the game." He now wore a tight rubber hood, blocking his sight. His mouth was still gagged, but with a cunningly designed dual-purpose gag. His mouth was filled with a rubber ball, while a slender black latex dildo protruded outward. Elbows bent, his wrists were chained at his waist, attached to a tightly cinched leather belt. He could move his hands slightly in all directions. A strap hung down from the front of the belt, its purpose obvious to all but the blindfolded Colin. The Mistress took his leash in her hand, and pulled Colin down to his knees. Because of his bondage, he had to rest his head on the floor. Reaching between his legs, the Mistress grabbed the leather strap, and pulled it toward her. Expertly, she slipped the metal cock ring around his genitals. She pulled on the strap, eliciting a grunt from the man kneeling before her. Colin gasped as the Mistress plunged the butt plug into his hole. She pulled the strap tight, forcing the hard plastic deep inside him, then cinched the strap. Grasping the hairy "tail" which protruded from the butt plus, she wiggled it around, making Colin moan at the most delightful sensations. Lady Meranda smiled at the crowd of onlookers as she connected two wires, one black and one red, to a small box on the back of the leather belt around Colin's waist. Stepping back about ten paces, she held her hand high for all to see the small pocket sized device she held. Deftly, she pushed a button on the device. Immediately, a red light glowed on the box attached to the slave's waist belt. Still kneeling, his hips began to buck. A moan of intense pleasure could be heard by all around. Lady Meranda smiled. "Just a little toy," she explained to the crowd with a wicked grin. "It's a remote controlled electrical toy. When I turn this switch, the butt plug inside him begins to pulse. But if I turn this switch ..." She turned the rheostat at the top of the box. The audience oohed and aahed as Colin suddenly raised himself up on his hands, his back arching, his pelvis thrusting, his cock suddenly engorged and a vibrant purple. "... our hound receives on his cock and balls, a small electrical shock guaranteed to drive a slave wild." The dominants in the room hooted and applauded at this unexpected show. The assembled slaves trembled in fear and delight that their Tops might invest in such a toy. Colin collapsed in a heap, his chest heaving, as Lady Meranda turned off the device. She looked over toward Julia and gestured with her latex covered hand. Julia was raised to her feet. The chain around her ankle jangled as she stood. Lady Meranda smiled. "As you know, Mistresses and Masters, we're about to watch two slaves play Fox and Hound." A round of applause. "First, the hound. A strong male, with great equipment," She gestured at Colin, stroking his body. He shivered in pleasure. "Then there's our fox." She stroked Julia's breasts. "A comely creature, our fox, don't you think?" Lady Meranda hand trailed sensually down Julia's body, making the girl wriggle at the touch. The Mistress' hand stopped when it reached the fur between the girl's legs. Julia threw her head back as fingers stroked her clit and hot slit. The crowd applauded, eager for the show to begin. "Some basic rules, Mistresses and Masters," continued Lady Meranda. "Some of you have won the pleasure of joining in our fox hunt - remember, you can encourage the hound by whipping him, but the fox is not to be beaten." She smiled wickedly at Julia. "Not yet, that is." She continued, "if the hound can catch the fox, he can have her, after which she will be punished. If he can't catch her, then he will be punished. As you can see, just as in a real fox hunt, the fox can see the hounds, but the hound cannot see the fox. He must hunt by his sense of smell." Lady Meranda withdrew her hand from between Julia's legs. She smeared the girl's juices under Colin's nose. The crowd laughed. "And now, let the hunt begin!" Lady Meranda stepped back, leaving the two slaves, the fox and the hound, in the centre of the room. The gathering formed a circle around the perimeter, Dominants stroking their slaves as they waited for the "hunt" to begin in earnest. Colin, the "hound", blindfolded, a furry tail hanging from his hindquarters, a black plastic dildo for a snout, flexed his arms and discovered he would be able to grab the girl - if he can find her. One of the mistresses leaned forward. ""Come on, you lazy hound! Get the fox!" she cried as she and lashed out with her whip. The long sinewy leather struck her target across his left buttock. He jumped forward, instinctively to his left. Julia the fox, eyes wide with the realization that even in his bondage the male slave could still grab and hold her, moved away from him. The tether chain jangled against the floor. Disoriented in his blindness, the hound literally danced as slaps and lashes urged him on. He twisted and turned, trying desperately to hunt and to get out of the way of the unseen whips. Guided sometimes in the right direction, sometimes not, he advanced toward the fox. Julia backed away from him, stopping, then shifting her weight from moved from side to side, uncertain of which way to go, sensing that inevitably there was no escape. She stepped back as if to flee, and found herself in the grip of one of the spectators. The Master pinched her nipple, than smacked her on the ass. Julia jumped forward, almost into the reach of the hound. The crowd cheered. Wielding their whips, the hunters urged the hound closer to her. Colin stumbled as he reached blindly for the girl-fox. He heard her squeal as his hand slid off slick rubber. He started with the realization that he was hunting the red-haired slave he had so desired! Lust urged him on. The assembled Masters and Mistresses reveled as the game of fox and hound progressed. Julia barely escaped capture on several occasions, twisting and turning out of harm's way. Then the hound stepped on her tether. She was trapped! The onlookers roared their pleasure, anticipating "the kill". Suddenly the hound dropped down on all fours, thoughts of his prey forgotten as a pulse of electricity roared through his captive member. Lady Meranda turned to the crowd, smiling, holding the remote control on high. Julia pulled with her ankle, freeing herself from her predicament. Quickly she moved as far away as possible from where the hound knelt. Her eyes were wide at the sight of his engorged cock. She felt her juices flow to her innermost feminine core, as thoughts of being impaled on his throbbing pink and purple flesh came unbidden to her mind. A small drool of saliva escaped out of her mouth. A mistress slashed at the kneeling hound, urging him to get up and get on with the hunt. Blindfolded and bound, he struggled to his feet and began wandering to and fro. He grasped a slave girl who was at the edge of the crowd, pulling her to his chest. The watching Masters and Mistresses hooted and catcalled, as Lady Meranda took charge of her hound. "Not that one, you stupid dog!" she growled. Using her whip, she slashed at the hound's thighs and buttocks until he was turned in the right direction. "Now, get the fox!" she demanded. Colin moved forward, grabbing at air. Julia sidled sideways, eyes always on the slowly advancing male. Then he tripped over the tether chain that attached to Julia's ankle. The hound stopped cold in his tracks. Julia dashed sideways, kicking with her foot, trying to get the tether chain out of the hound's reach. Laughter shook the room as the hound tried to stomp on the chain, only to miss each time. The hunters used their whips artfully, causing him to jump and dance, adding to the spectacle. Julia moved faster, trying to keep from being pinned down. Suddenly, she could not move her leg. She was caught! He stood firmly on the tethering chain, reaching for her in his darkness. Inexorably, he advanced. Julia felt his hand graze her arm. She turned to see where he was, and found herself almost in his embrace. She twisted around, trying to pull away. Too late! A strong hand grabbed her arm, pulling her backward. She tried to wriggle free, but felt herself pulled closer to him. Then both her arms were in his grasp. She felt his heat as he pulled her close, his chest against her back. His swollen cock pushed against her buttock. As she tried again to wriggle free, she felt the hard meat slide into the crack of her ass. Instinctively, lustfully, she pressed closer against him. A cheer from the crowd broke her lust-filled reverie. Realization dawned on her - she was about to be fucked by this stranger! Julia started to wiggle free from his embrace. Stepping on her tether, the hound tried to hold his squirming captive still. Her writhing was driving him crazy with desire. "Doggie style!" some wag in the audience shouted. Then everyone took up the cry. Lady Meranda twisted the button on the remote. The hound released his prey, falling to his knees. Recovering quickly, he grabbed the tether with his hands and pulled. Caught once more! The hound flipped Julia over on her stomach, gorgeous round white globes raised in the air. Crawling forward, he plunged himself inside her hot wet core. Julia screamed aloud her humiliation. A master in leather chaps, a g-string covering his crotch, shouted his pleasure. He held a ticket aloft to cheers from the gathered dominants. He moved forward from the crowd. He grasped Julia's hair, and pulled her face up. She saw his purple-headed shaft approach her open mouth. She moaned in torment as the two cocks invaded her at the same time. The hound pumped into the fox, his reward for good performance, while she worshipped the stranger's phallus as it plunged back and forth past her lips. The crowd applauded, enjoying the show.
CHAPTER NINE: "Rub-a-dub-dub" "JULIA DARLING, my back needs washing." "Oui, mon cher Maitresse." Julia, beautiful in her French maid's outfit, descended to her knees at the side of the tub. She was careful to keep her legs apart as she leaned forward to wash her Mistress. Alison sat upright in the bath, the large foamy bubbles adhering to her shiny wet breasts and arms. She had been thinking of the upcoming golf match, for she had drawn Meranda as her partner, which made her very nervous. Finally relaxing, Alison arched her back like a cat being stroked as Julia began rubbing her in broad circles with a soapy loofah. Alison's skin glowed a shiny wet pink as her slave poured water over the delicate bumps of her spine. Julia slowly worked her way forward, soap bubbles clinging to her arms. "Mmm, nice," said Alison dreamily as Julia began to soap and caress her breasts. She leaned back in the tub to allow her slave better access. Beneath the foamy water, Alison's hand slithered down her belly to her Mound of Venus. She made a mental note about the rough stubble she felt there, before sliding a wet soapy finger surreptitiously between the soft cleft of flesh below. Alison could feel the heat of pleasure slowly building as Julia washed her breasts, lingering overlong on the hard pink nipples. "MMMMmmm," she purred. Internal fires were stoking and running hotter. Twinges of pleasure were beginning to pulsate in Alison's abdomen as synapses fired off signals of desire needing satisfaction. She sat upright in the tub. Julia immediately backed away and knelt, head down. "Enough, my pet. Fetch me a towel and the razor." "Yes Maitresse," Julia complied. Her ankle hobbles jangled as she rose to her feet and stepped daintily across the room. She returned with a large soft bath towel and a wicker basket holding a safety razor, talc, bristle brush and jar of shave cream. Alison rose from the water with a swooshing sound, foam and water droplets splattering all over her now kneeling slavegirl. "I'm wet," she stated flatly. Instantly Julia rose to her feet and gingerly patted her Mistress dry with the soft fluffy cloth. She resumed kneeling as she reached her Mistress's waist. Alison placed one leg on the edge of the tub. Her wet sex was at Julia's eye level. Keeping her eyes demurely downcast, Julia wiped the soap and water from Alison's leg. Slowly she ran the towel around her Mistress's thigh, careful to dry the back of the crooked knee before descending down a shapely calf to a foot. Julia dried the space between Alison's toes before placing a tender kiss on the smooth instep. "I have stubble," came Alison's voice from above. "It will be my pleasure to shave Maitresse," whispered Julia. Her soft French accent was honey. She dipped the shaving brush into the water of the tub, then worked up a lather of shave cream. The brush left swirls of scented shaving cream on Alison's tender flesh. Instinctively Alison moved her hips forward as the badger haired brush tickled and stroked her labia. The first delicate stroke of the razor revealed glistening skin. More strokes, more skin. In a few unhurried moments, only a few dabs of shave cream remained on the fleshy triangle at the base of Alison's midriff. Julia rinsed the razor in the bath water, then raised her eyes back to the smooth female flesh before her. With the skill born of much practice, Julia carefully began to remove any traces of stubble from the sensitive skin between Alison's legs. When done, she carefully took a clean face cloth, and first wetting it in the tub, lovingly wiped away all traces of the shave cream from between her Mistress's legs. "I'm still wet," breathed Alison, her voice husky. "Dry me now." Julia reached for the towel. "No." Julia dropped the towel, and slowly leaned forward. Her breath was hot against Alison's tender sensitive flesh. Julia's cheeks puffed out as she blew ever-so-gently on her Mistress. She could smell the musky perfume of passion as she leaned closer. Julia felt fingers curling in her hair, drawing her face close. Almost of its own accord, her pink tongue darted forward to touch Alison's lower tongue. "Ohh!" moaned her Mistress at the touch. "Ohhhh!" Julia smothered her face in Alison's honeyed musky flesh. She sucked on her Mistress's clit, drawing the pink rosebud from its hooded hideaway. Moving lower, she parted Alison's hot swollen labia with her tongue, exploring the hidden crevices and folds, reveling in the taste of a woman in heated passion. Julia pressed on the clit with her nose as she pushed her tongue inward, lapping at precious fluids and Africa-hot skin. Alison, lost in pleasure, was barely aware of the jangle of chains as Julia raised her hands. The touch of her slavegirl on her ass cheeks, made without permission, nevertheless felt wonderful. Julia pulled her Mistress's coral cleft closer. Slowly, carefully, she trickled a finger along the hot flesh separating the twin globes. Her Mistress's moans filled her ears, the heady musky taste of woman, so hot, so moist, tantalized her taste buds like the finest cognac. Julia bravely continued her exploration of the sensitive flesh until her finger touched the puckered mouth it sought. She swirled her finger around in a lazy circle, teasing the tender bud which seemed to beckon further exploration. Fingers clenched tightly in Julia's nut brown hair, Alison jerked the girl's face away from her burning flesh. "How DARE you!" she bellowed, furious. Instantly Julia dropped her hands to her own lap. "Maitresse, excusez-moi, je vous desire avec tout..." the slave girl stammered, English forgotten in her panic. "Get in the bedroom," commanded Alison. "Now!" "Oui Maitresse," moaned a panicky Julia as she slunk away on all fours. Alison stormed from the bathroom, a trail of wet footprints and soap bubbles marking her path. Julia was on the bed, kneeling, her head pressed hard against the mattress. Looking left, then right for the nearest whip or belt, Alison leaned forward and delivered a smack to the upraised bottom. A handprint glowed pink as she smacked the other cheek. "Slut! I should sell you tomorrow!" stomped Alison, each word punctuated with another slap. "How! Dare! You! Touch! Me! There! Without! Permission!" "Maitresse, je regret! I'm sorry!" bawled Julia. Her ass glowed fiery red. "Forgive me your worthless slave, I love you so much! Je t'adore, Maitresse! Je t'adore!" Her fury abating, Alison brushed her hair back from her face and surveyed her crying slave. Julia's face was pressed down into the blankets, her sobs muffled by the cloth. Her hands were by her head, her bright red buttocks raised high in the air. Alison could see that her slave's pussy was very wet. She gave Julia a final slap, lighter than the others. "Oh all right," she said. "Get your sorry little ass down from there." Julia scrambled off the bed and threw herself at Alison's feet. She smothered the toes with tear soaked kisses. "I am so sorry, Maitresse!" she pleaded between kisses. "I love you Maitresse!" Alison let her slave grovel for a few moments. Finally tiring of the whining, she ordered Julia to bring her the travel bag. Her ass glowing like a stoplight, Julia crawled over to the closet where the bags had been placed. Taking the bag's handle in her teeth, she crawled back doggie-style to her Mistress. She placed the bag at Alison's feet, and meekly lowered her head. Alison fished around in the bag until she found the item she wanted. Pulling once again on her slave's hair, she raised Julia's face to where she could see it. "Open" was all she said. She pushed a leather ball into the wet cavern between Julia's teeth. Alison drew the leather straps over and behind the girl's head, buckling them in place. Satisfied everything was secure, she stepped over to the bed and sat back. "Satisfy me," she directed. Julia had played this game before. Eager to please, she crawled toward her Mistress's open legs. The black rubber penis protruding from the front of the gag bobbed as she raised her head. Alison sighed at the first touch of the hard rubber against her inner thigh. Reaching down, she ran her hand over her slave girl's head, the hard leather straps of the gag providing a harsh contrast with the luxuriant softness of Julia's hair. Alison placed a hand on either side of Julia's head and guided the girl forward to where her internal fire burned. Pressure of the penis against her clit wrung a soft moan of delight from Alison. Using her hands as guides, she raised and lowered Julia's head, the action causing the rubber penis to rub up and down against her female orifice. Her clit grew hard, the bud of flesh bursting forth from the hooded folds of skin. "There!" she gasped, rocking Julia's head from side to side. Knowing her Maitresse's pleasures, Julia allowed herself to be easily manouevered. When she sensed Alison's pleasures growing, she began to move her head in a concentric circle, never ceasing the pressure against Alison's clitoris. "Oh!" cried Alison. "Now!" she demanded, the fires of her passion enveloping her. Julia inhaled her Mistress' musk as she began to work the dildo into Alison's hot wetness. She rubbed the tip of the rubber cock against the petal like folds of flesh that led into the hot wet core. Feeling her own needs growing, Julia snaked a hand between her own legs and began to massage herself. The rocket blast of pleasure that swept up through her belly at the first touch caused her to thrust her head forward almost involuntarily. The dildo plunged deep into Alison's burning vagina, Julia's nose pressing against the swollen clit. Alison gasped her pleasure as she felt herself so suddenly being filled. "Sure Julia's sometimes impudent, but damn! she is good!" were Alison's last thoughts as she surrendered herself to pleasure.
CHAPTER TEN: "It Hurts When Your Balls are in the Rough"
THWACK!
Alison watched with some satisfaction as the small white ball flew high
in the air in a graceful arc before beginning its descent to the fairway below.
It bounced several times and rolled to a stop.
"Nicely hit, Alison," complimented Lady Meranda. She teed up her own
dimpled sphere. "This promises to be an interesting round, yes?"
"Well, as I said earlier, I'm very pleased to be playing in your
threesome, Meranda," replied Alison. "It's an honour, for your reputation is
widely known."
Meranda cocked an eye in Alison's direction. Alison flashed a foxily coy
smile.
"As a superb golfer, Lady Meranda," she demurred.
Meranda gave her guest a contemplative look before turning her attention
back to the tee. With a smooth motion born of long practice, she swung the metal
club.
Thwack! The ball soared high in the air, flying over the spot where
Alison's had initially landed. Meranda's play rolled to a stop some 20 yards
closer to the hole.
The third member of the group pushed the small wood tee into the grassy
knoll. He was slightly above average height, with the wiry build of a long
distance runner. David wasn't a runner, though; it was a kindness of genetics
combined with a dedicated cardiovascular workout program that created his long,
lean physique. He removed his cap, revealing gray-dappled hair cut stylishly
short. Re-setting the cap on his head, he adjusted it to his satisfaction.
"You two certainly are a hard act to follow," David smiled as he
prepared for his shot. "We should place a wager on the game."
"Now there's an interesting thought," Alison replied, her eyes alive
with anticipation.
Meranda smiled sweetly. "In due course, my friends. Perhaps when we
reach the back nine?"
David smacked his ball toward the woods at the edge of the fairway. The
ball smashed through some leaves and with a resounding thunk! ricocheted into
the tall grass at the edge of the fairway. He was short of the ladies' drives by
many yards.
"Well, lady luck was with me there," he said as the threesome headed off
the tee to their awaiting carts and caddies.
Lady Meranda Augusta's "Masters and Mistresses Tournament" was limited
to 36 golfers. The teams were divided into threesomes ("I do so love a menage a
trois", Meranda had jested when planning the event). A "shotgun start", with
each team starting from a different hole, ensured everyone would finish about
the same time.
Players were each expected to bring at least one slave to serve as a
worker in the tournament. Lady Meranda provided what other help was required.
Tournament rules stipulated that no Master or Mistress should have to
walk the course unless that was of his or her own choosing. Similarly, no Master
or Mistress should carry his or her own clubs - that was a steadfast rule.
Golf clubs slid into golf bags with a clanging and slithering sound. The
two ladies climbed into the cart that would transport them down the fairway. The
two ponygirls grunted at the sudden addition of weight to the load they were
bearing.
"Let's go girls," directed Lady Meranda as she flicked her buggy whip in
the direction of a shiny, round rubber-covered buttock. The ponygirls pulled
against their traces and the cart began to roll down the fairway.
David took his caddy-slave's leash in his left hand as he began to walk
in the direction of his ball. She hobbled along behind him, the short chain
connecting her ankles forcing her to take small mincing steps. Her butt wiggled
to and fro in a highly erotic motion as she scrambled to keep up.
The players progressed down the fairway.
-------
The sun was relentless, hot. The girl moaned her agony and discomfort
but there was no around who listened, or cared. She felt slimy, slippery wet,
the insides of her skintight rubber suit slick with her perspiration. Her
nipples itched, the nagging sensation building and building into a torment
because she could not scratch. She wriggled her fingers as best she could, the
bondage mitts forcing her hand to clench. Her palms were moist.
She moaned her frustration, her gagged mouth ensuring her sounds were
unintelligible.
-----
Alison groaned as her putt rolled down the finely trimmed grass toward
the hole, then curled around the yawning cup.
"Damn! That's a five for me," she groused.
The distinctive sound of a golf ball swirling about in a metal cup
echoed. Meranda sank her putt.
"Four," she said. "One over par."
"And I shot a miserable seven," bemoaned David.
"Well, Alison and David, I'm sure you'll find the next hole more to your
liking."
"I hope so," said David. "I seem to be all over the place today."
"Troubles concentrating?" asked Alison. "Too many distractions?" She
smiled, gazing at the ponies and his caddy-slave.
"Well, I do have to say that the ponies are marvelous. I love the
outfits. The horsehair manes and tails are a very nice touch, too."
Alison chimed in. "And where ever did you get those shoes? They are
divine!"
"I had them made specially," said Meranda. "Look at this." She strolled
over to one of the ponygirls. Taking the captive girl's ankle in her hand,
Meranda displayed the sole of the boot to her guests.
"Look at that! Horseshoes!" exclaimed Alison in admiration. "How
marvelous!"
"It makes the pony experience that much more... real. Enjoyable."
Meranda added. "Shall we?" She led the way toward the next tee box.
----
She pulled with her left arm but the bonds refused to budge more than a
quarter inch. A kick of her leg had the same result. She pressed down with her
shoulders and tried to raise her back but the ropes binding her waist and
breasts held fast. She was pinned like a butterfly on a board. Her efforts only
served to remind her of the metal pole parting her labia to press against her
clitoris.
The heat from the sun was becoming unbearable, and the yet the day had
just begun. Was it the sun or was it the layer of heavy rubber enclosing her
from head to toe, trapping all her sweat and attracting the heat?
Her movements increased the itching she felt on her belly, her nipples,
her inner thighs. She remembered how Lady Meranda's footman had poured bag after
bag of hairs and itching powders and god-knows-what-else into the rubber catsuit
before locking it on her.
People! After the persistent blackness of her hood, suddenly she could
see people! She tried to raise her head only to discover that ropes leading from
the top of her rubber helmet held her firmly in place. Voices clicked
metallically in her ears. She realized that the discipline helmet with which she
had been fitted contained video imaging for her eyes and speakers for her ears -
and it was all remotely controlled.
"Unnhh!!" she screamed her frustration. A bird flying overhead took no
notice of the figure below.
----
The tee box was hidden behind a grove of cottonwoods and lilac bushes.
The footman, now wearing a red rubber mess jacket and holding a video camera,
greeted them as they passed through an opening in the ticket.
"My Lady, Mistress, Master. Welcome to the Twelfth Hole. We have a
special amusement for you here. A 'closest-to-the-hole' contest."
Pointing with his arm, the footman directed their gaze to the green some
154 yards away. It was just like any other golf green, with the possible
exception of the young woman staked out upon it. Her purple latex catsuit
glimmered in the sun. With the exception of the delectable area between her
splayed legs, she was completely covered by the tight fitting second skin. From
the tee box, it appeared as if the flagpole marking the cup was pressed tight
against her exposed crotch, splitting her labia. A funny looking box covered her
head.
"Interesting," mused David. "I assume there is a prize for being the
closest to the hole?"
"Certainly," explained Meranda. "We have some very special prizes for
all our contest winners. David, I believe you have the honours?"
"Hmm, looks like a five iron to me," he said as he placed his ball on a
tee. "Tell me Meranda dear, what do I win if I sink a hole in one?"
Meranda smiled. "Sounds to me like you'd like to put your club and balls
in the wrong hole. You should concentrate on golf."
David laughed. He took a couple of practice swings, then stepped up to
the ball. With a resounding smack! the hard white orb was lifted high into the
sky. It hung there for a few seconds, a small white dot against the bright blue
prairie sky, then began its graceful descent to earth. The ball hit just short
of the green, and bounced back in the air. Its trajectory carried it closer,
closer to the supine woman.
"Oooo!" Alison said as she watched the golf ball smack into a purple
rubberized breast, then bounce to the side. "You've got a tough putt there
David!" she laughed.
"Your turn, Alison my love," purred Meranda. "Good luck!"
Alison's club met the ball with a pleasing thwack. It felt good to her.
The players watched as the ball rolled to the edge of the green near an
outstretched foot.
"Nicely done Alison!" praised David. "Now it's our gracious hostess's
turn."
With a courteous nod, Meranda moved up on the tee. She cleared her
throat. Instantly the footman scurried over, placing her ball in the proper
place. Meranda ran a gloved hand over his rubber-covered buns as he bent to
place the ball for her. She reached between his legs as he straightened, and
grasped his burgeoning manhood through its encasement. He stood at attention as
she caressed his swelling cock, then rolled his latexed testicles in her hand.
"That will be all," she said to her footman. "For now."
"If it pleases my Lady," he said, bowing and backing away from her.
----
The slave girl couldn't believe what she was seeing and hearing. She was
a target! for a bloody golf contest! Realizing the camera was positioned to
follow the golfers, the slavegirl watched as a strange man stepped up into her
viewing range. Helpless but curious, she saw him swing through the ball, she
heard the crack! as his club connected, and then in rapt fascination, she
watched the white ball soar gently, graciously into the blue sky. Disorientation
gave way to sudden realization as the scene shifted. She could see the ball
descend toward a figure in purple spread-eagled against the green grass, a
flagpole splitting the triangle formed by the juncture of splayed legs, and she
realized she was looking at herself and the ball was dropping rapidly at her.
Tears formed in her eyes at the sudden pain in her right breast. She
began to cry, pain, shame and fear commingling, for she realized that there were
more than 30 golfers yet to come.
----
Meranda turned her attention to the upcoming shot. She took a practice
swing, then took aim at the purple prisoner 154 yards away. Her round hips
waggled invitingly as she addressed the ball. It took off like a rocket when the
steel head of the club lifted it from the plastic tee.
It was a low shot, straight down the middle of the fairway. It looked
like it might have too much force behind it when the ball began suddenly to drop
toward the ground below. The ball skipped once, twice, before smacking into a
purple thigh. The physics of motion carried the ball along the purple-coated
second skin to the apex of the triangle. The ball hit the pin with a clang! and
bounced up, landing on the lower midsection of the helpless girl.
"Wow! Almost a hole in one! Great shot Meranda!" exclaimed her two
golfing partners.
Meranda smiled her pleasure at the shot and the praise. "Practice makes
perfect," she said. She looked over at her footman. "Isn't that right my pet?"
He blushed before answering. Unconsciously his hand strayed to cover his
genitals. "That is correct, My Lady."
CHAPTER ELEVEN: "Not all golf hazards contain sand"
THE GOLF MATCH WAS going swimmingly well. Alison and David were enjoying
themselves immensely. The sun was shining brightly, and although the ponygirls
and caddy-slave were delightful if not enticing distractions, both were playing
quite well.
Their hostess however was proving to be a very skilled player
experiencing an off day. In spite of her early success on the 10th, 11th and
12th holes, Lady Meranda ran into trouble. She lost a ball to the water on the
14th, and took a double bogie on the 17th. Nevertheless, she continued to smile,
clearly enjoying herself and viewing her round as the challenge of her day.
Having started their match on the 10th hole, the threesome had completed
the first half of their match. The front nine of the course was to be the back
nine of their game.
"You know, I just love the way their asses move," admired Alison, her
gaze locked to the pairs of pert pony buttocks before her. Lady Meranda smiled.
"Yes, your Julia seems well suited to pony gear," she replied. "By the
way, Alison, I couldn't help noticing how devoted she is to you."
Alison beamed with pleasure. "Yes, she is, isn't she."
The two women settled into a comfortable silence as their pony-pulled
golf cart made its way around the clubhouse. The pony boots made the
unmistakable clip-clop sound of horseshoes contacting pavement.
"Tell me Alison, what do you think of our golf tournament so far?"
purred Lady Meranda. She laid her hand on her companion's thigh.
"It's wonderful," gushed Alison. "As you know, I was here last year too,
and I must say you have made it even more fun this year."
Seemingly unaware of what she was doing, Meranda made small swirling
movements with her little finger, gently caressing the creamy flesh of Alison's
bare leg.
Aware of the touch and Meranda's bisexuality, Alison chose to regard it as
a friendly gesture.
"Yes, I remember you and your pet from last year's tournament. You are a
lovely couple. Anyway, I thought that this year, some of the additions would be
more, interesting," replied Meranda. "There are more to come, too." She gently
squeezed Alison's thigh conspiratorially.
Alison turned to Meranda. Her smile was inviting. "Then we shall have
great fun today, won't we!" she beamed.
The ponies drew the cart off the driveway and headed down the gravel
path leading to the first tee.
"I tell you what," invited Meranda. "You're playing very well, and I'm
not..."
"You're just having a bad start," interrupted Alison. She patted
Meranda's leg sympathetically.
Meranda smiled, her hand sliding higher on Alison's thigh.
"Be that as it may," she said sweetly," what about a friendly wager?"
She cocked a brown eye at Alison. The little finger of Meranda's hand
moved ever so slightly higher on Alison's leg.
Alison's eyes widened in curiosity. "Meranda wants to make a bet with
me? And what is that little finger doing on my thigh?" she wondered.
"Here's what I propose," continued Meranda in a matter-of-fact tone.
"We're about to play the front nine. I will spot you a couple of strokes. If you
can beat me over nine holes, you can have your pick of slaves from my stable,
yours to use or abuse until next year's tournament."
The cart rounded a bend. The first tee was visible just ahead.
Alison considered Meranda's proposal. She was doing well whereas Meranda
was not. She would be spotted a couple of strokes, too. What did she have to
lose? She knew of Meranda's reputation.
"What do I have to lose?" she asked her hostess. "I mean, what happens
if I lose, you win?"
Meranda turned her full gaze to Alison. Her eyes flashed in the
sunlight.
"If you don't win, " she stated, her voice full of mischief. "Then I get
your pet Julia, to do with as I please, for one year."
"Julia?" Alison gulped in surprise. "For one full year?"
Meranda's smile widened. Her hand slithered from Alison's thigh to cup
her crotch overtop the cotton shorts, fingers burrowing into the cotton-covered
sex. She pressed down with her palm and up with her fingertips.
"And I get you, too." Meranda's husky voice dripped with honey and
menace. "Julia and you, one full year, If you don't win. Your pick of my stable
if you do."
Alison squirmed in her seat.
The cart came to a stop, ponies panting and grateful for the rest.
"Ah, here we are," said Meranda gaily. She fixed Alison with her eyes
once more.
"Do we have a bet, my love?"
CHAPTER TWELVE: "It's a Long Way to Tip a Rorie" JULIA TOSSED HER HEAD, shooing away the fly that was determined to land on her nose. A slick spot of drool drizzled down her chin as the bit gag kept her teeth and lips parted. She was hot, sore, sweaty. The rubber ponysuit trapped everything inside - there was not even an opening whereby she could relieve herself. Only her face and breasts were exposed to the light of day. Julia wanted desperately to clean herself, but knew that that was just wishful thinking. She was doomed to remain a pony until at least the end of the golf match, and after that, who knew what was in store? Julia certainly did not. Her heart thumped as she and her fellow ponygirl pulled the cart carrying the two Mistresses down the fairway. She concentrated on lifting her feet as high and prettily as she could - she had felt Lady Meranda Augusta's pony whip across her buttocks more than once, thank you very much, and had no interest in receiving any more decorative pink stripes. But her mind constantly wandered off to a deeper, darker place: The Bet. She and her beloved Maitresse Alison, were the stakes in a hideous bet with that, that - Lady Meranda! Incroyable! The fly landed on Julia's breast and began to crawl around the way flies do. Its hairy legs and sucker feet tickled in a most annoying way. Julia longed to swat it away but her hands, covered in rubber bondage mitts, were secured to the frame of the carriage. A pull on the reins drew the bit hard against the corners of her mouth, forcing her head back. Julia came to a stop. The butt plug wiggled inside her as her tail twitched when she stamped her feet like an impatient horse. She was in luck, for the fly buzzed off. "NNNnnnn!" she whinnied in surprise at the sharp pain of a whip across her butt cheek. "Be still," came her beloved Maitresse's sharp rebuke. Julia stood quietly as Alison came around to the front of the carriage. Alison reached forward and softly caressed her ponygirl's breast. Stroking the hard nipple, she kissed Julia on the forehead. "Don't worry my sweet pet," Alison whispered, her breath hot in Julia's ear. "I won't lose you, ever." Eyes wide with pleasure and trepidation, Julia whinnied softly and nodded her head up and down. Alison patted her cheek, then turned back to the fairway. A shiny white ball was nestled cozily in the well-manicured grassy fairway. A red flag flapped in the breeze, just a couple of dozen yards away. "Looks like a wedgie," commented Lady Meranda from the cart. Alison nodded, that was her thought exactly. She selected her pitching wedge from the bag in the back of the cart. Alison carefully addressed the ball, shortening her backswing but following through in a graceful arc. The golf ball rose high in the air before dropping with a plop! on the lush green. It rolled to a stop just a foot or two from the pin. "Excellent shot , Alison!" commended David. Alison smiled at Julia as she turned back toward the cart. She patted her pet slave on the arm as she walked by to return her club to the bag. Meranda chipped her ball to the green. It rolled past the pin and came to a stop. David's ball rested in the longish grass at the edge of the green. "Well, we'll see if everything rolls downhill," he jested. David tapped the ball with his putter, the white orb scampering down the slope toward the pin. "Go!" encouraged David. The ball stopped short by a few inches. "Ah, too bad, David," sympathized Meranda. "We'll give you that one." David smiled as he retrieved his ball. "Meranda, you're away," said Alison. Crouching, her opponent sized up the shot. Alison watched David watch Meranda. He stood just to the side where he could admire her luscious figure. Her breasts swelled against the tight cotton of the golf shirt, nipples hard as they rubbed against the cloth. Her buttocks formed a delicious heart shape as she squatted, measuring her next shot. Unaware of his action, he licked his lips. Meranda rose slowly to her feet, then stood over her ball, ready to putt. Her back was now to David. Alison couldn't help but play the voyeur as she watched David's slow sizzling examination of Meranda's smooth legs and deliciously rounded bottom. The click of putter against golf ball snapped Alison's attention back to the game. Lady Meranda's ball rolled down the gentle slope toward the pin. Suddenly, it caught an unseen depression in the ground, and curving, rolled just past the targeted opening. "No!" exclaimed Meranda to see her ball stop just inches past the pin. "And I was shooting for a birdie!" Alison expressed her condolences with a sardonic grace. She lined up her shot - an easy 3 footer. Carefully, she tapped the ball. It rolled straight away and fell into the cup with a thunk. Picking her ball up from the hole in the ground, Alison smiled. "That's a three for me," she said matter-of-fact, her heart pounding with excitement. Six holes into the bet, and Alison was now up by one. David placed the flagpole back into the cup. "Well, that was one over for me, but you ladies! Meranda, you shot par and Alison scored a birdie! Congratulations." "Thank you, David!" Flush with her success, Alison beamed. "The two of you are playing very well. And with such intensity. " David looked quizzically at the two mistresses. "Almost as if you are betting on the outcome," he continued. Meranda smiled sweetly. "I think both of you will enjoy this next hole," she purred. "It has an amusing challenge to it." THE SMALL GROUP BROKE through the trees into a bright and sunny clearing. Alison, ever aware of the stakes, diligently perused the small sign describing the next hole. 428 yards. A dogleg to the right, sand on either side of the green. And what looked like a creek running through the middle of the fairway. Alison looked down the fairway. "What's this, Meranda?" she asked. "Another one of our little challenges my love," replied her challenger. "This is our longest drive competition, and what you see out there are the markers." She indicated several figures standing in the fairway. "There are three markers for the three best drives. And prizes, naturally." The golfers looked out at the course ahead. An art critic would describe it as a lovely pastoral scene, worthy of Gainesborough, replete with lush oaks, cottonwoods and birches foresting on either side of the long narrow ribbon of grass. A blue jay's raucous call echoed in the summer air. "Well ladies, your scores are tied and you both parred the last hole. Who has the honours?" asked David, juggling his ball in the air. "I believe I do," said Alison, striding purposefully toward the tee box. "By the way, I must mention the catch about this hole," said Meranda. "You mustn't hit any of the markers: it's a two stroke penalty for you, not to mention a pretty bruise for the slave." "Thank you for the warning," replied Alison sardonically as she drove the plastic tee into the hard packed earth. She positioned herself and took a practice swing before stepping up to the ball. Her shot rocketed away from the tee, veering off to the right. "Damn!" she said out loud. The ball rolled to a stop at the edge of the forest about 90 yards from its launching place. "Lady Meranda," said David. "You're up." Meranda took her place on the tee. She sighted down the fairway, then stretched, sinuously, like a feline in heat. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught David admiring her body, and smiled. "David, darling," Meranda cooed. "Why don't we have a little bet on this hole?" "Why Meranda," exclaimed David in surprise. "That would be fun." His smile became a leer. "And positively wicked. Whatever shall we wager?" Coyly, Meranda strutted over to where he stood. "Longest drive wins," she said, her voice deliberately pitched low and seductively husky. "The loser must do whatever the winner asks. Over there." She gestured in the direction of the woods rimming the fairway. David, his eyes glistening with desire, smiled. "It's a bet, my lovely Meranda," he leered. Standing on tiptoe, she leaned into David and kissed his cheek. "Done," she whispered into his ear. Her pink tongue flickered into his ear like a snake searching for prey. Meranda sashayed back to the tee box. She didn't bother with a practice swing but just smacked the ball, hard. She watched it fly, bouncing just to the side of the nearest marker-slave before rolling to a stop. David's ball was long, hard, and accurate. Too accurate. Bouncing once on the fairway, the ball struck the farthest marker-slave smack on the upper chest, flipped high in the air and dropped back about ten feet. "Too bad," purred Lady Meranda. "If you had been over to either side just a touch, you'd have the longest drive. Instead of a two stroke penalty." "Oh well," replied David. "Can't win them all." He smiled. "Why David, you're taking this very well," baited Meranda. She stroked his arm in a familiar, feminine manner. "Don't worry darling, there's more to come." David bowed, a courtly yet sardonic gesture. "Lady Meranda is too kind," he said. She smiled her mischievous smile at him. "We'll see," she said. She patted his groin, then looped her arm through his. "Walk with me," she said, turning on her heel. She looked over her shoulder at Alison. "Alison dear, why don't you bring up the ponies?" she condescended. "Bitch," was Alison's thought as she climbed into the carriage. Taking the reins in her hand, Alison drove the ponies forward to where her ball lay waiting. As she trotted down the fairway, the markers came into clear view. No one would ever criticize Lady Meranda for not being creative as a Domme. Three slaves had been singled out to be markers, with the risk of being targets. Sensory deprivation and ease of movement were the guidelines. Two males and a female had had all their orifices filled and plugged. Male dangly bits were laced in sheaths, then tied snug against the lower abdomen. Each slave had been dressed in heavy rubber catsuits, with high collars, feet and mitts for hands. Inflatable hoods covered the heads, rubber tubes fitted up the nostrils to enable breathing to take place. Once dressed, the now identical rubber beings were laced into exquisitely tight full body bags. No unassisted movement was possible, with the exception of one: the marker could fall over. As she, Meranda and David approached, Alison could see that two of the "markers" wobbled unsteadily in place; the third and farthest away lay supine on the ground. "Oh dear," mocked Meranda, "one of the markers has fallen over! David, your drive knocked it down! That's too bad." "Why is that, Meranda?" queried David. Meranda smiled sweetly. Her eyes sparkled with more mischief. "Well David," she began. "The marker slaves were cautioned about what would happen if they fell over." "Punishment most severe?" David said with a malevolent smile. "Definitely," replied Meranda. "Most severe." She called out. "Alison, there's your ball." Meranda pointed to a white spot on the grass to her right. "At least you have a good position." Her lips pursed in a sarcastic smile. "But who knows what position you'll be in later, hmm?" A shudder coursed through Julia. The slave cum pony understood what Lady Meranda was up to - she was trying to throw her beloved Maitresse Alison off her game. And Julia knew her Maitresse well enough to know that Alison was indeed rising to the bait. Julia feared for what could happen. If Alison became angry or upset, she and Julia could end up in Lady Meranda's stable! If only she could stroke and kiss her Maitresse in that secret special way they shared, and calm her down! Julia stomped her feet in frustration. She threw her head back and whinnied, hoping to distract Alison's mounting anger. "Quiet Julia!" barked Alison. The pony slave whimpered quietly. Julia turned her eyes skyward. "Dear Gods of this silly game", she prayed. "Help my beautiful Maitresse to stay calm and steady as I know she is! Do what you will with me, but do not let my beloved go astray!" Thwack! Alison's follow-through was smooth and sweet, the head of her club scribing a perfect arc against the clear blue sky. "Nicely hit!" praised David. The ball sailed away, racing down the sloping fairway before beginning its descent to earth. Alison raised her hand to shade her eyes, watching for the ball's final destination. It splashed into the creek some 150 yards away. "Shit!" said Alison under her breath. "Merde! Nous sommes perdues!" thought Julia. "Aw, tough luck, Alison," commiserated David. "That's a penalty stroke for sure." Meranda smiled. "David, I think I'd like to claim my winnings now," she said. Beckoning him to follow, Meranda headed into a copse of trees on the side of the fairway, leaving Alison to hit again. David walk, then hurried his pace to catch up to Lady Meranda. Reaching her side, David leaned close and appeared to be saying something. Her laughter peeled across the fairway. Alison watched the two figures disappear into the shade of the trees before turning her attention back to her game. "Bitch!" she swore, placing a new ball on the ground. DAVID PLACED HIS HAND on Meranda's shoulder. She stopped and turned to face him. "My, you're eager to please, aren't you," she teased, stepping back from his enthusiastic embrace. She pointed at his bulging crotch. "Show me what've got there, David," she toyed. Smiling, David unfastened his pants, which promptly dropped down to his knees. His swelling manhood was clearly defined by the silk bikini-style underwear he wore. Stepping closer, Meranda smiled. She pressed her hand against his silky crotch. Her hot, wet tongue flicked at the sensitive flesh of David's ear. He moaned in pleasure at both touches. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest. "David," she whispered, her breath hot, sultry, wet in his ear. "I want your tongue inside me." She squeezed his swollen cock for emphasis. "Mmm yes, Lady Meranda," he gasped. She stepped back and in one single practiced motion, drew her golf shirt over head. She tossed it to the side. It caught on a tree branch and dangled there. Like a hungry infant, David leaned forward to suckle Meranda's full breasts before the shirt was even over her head. She threw her head back, honeyed hair swirling, at the touch of his mouth against her cool freckled flesh. The slurping sounds of a man devouring a woman's breasts filled the shaded grove. Meranda's breath grew ragged, more shallow. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed his head down. David bit and sucked at the well-tanned flesh of her abdomen as she forced him lower. The waistband of her shorts hit his chin. He turned his attention to the cloth that lay between him and his goal. Roughly he unbuttoned the waistband and pushed the cloth down over Meranda's ample hips. A bright blue material appeared from beneath the tight white cotton. David kissed Meranda's navel as he continued to work her shorts over her hips. He could feel the slickness of rubber on his hands as he ran them over her well-defined buttocks. Meranda raised her legs and wiggled out of the shorts. She was naked except for the shiny blue latex panties. David hungrily kissed and licked the rubber from the waistband down to the treasure between her legs. His tongue felt the cold steel of a zipper, but he could not see anything to pull it open. He felt Meranda's ass with both hands, kneading the ripe muscular flesh. Meranda's hips thrust themselves into his face. A round loop of steel met his fingers - he had found the pull to the zipper! He began to draw it down. "No," demanded Meranda, her voice husky with desire but firm like the Dome she was. "With your mouth", she ordered. She turned around, pressing her rubber-covered cheeks into David's face. David's lust was powerful, so strong he had no will to resist this captivating temptress. The steel between his teeth was surprisingly cool. He pulled down with his head, the zipper parting to reveal the sweet flesh within. His nose pressed into the hot moist crack as it was revealed. He could smell Meranda's most intimate parts, gathering with his olfactory nerves the scent of her passion and desire. She straddled his head as he reached the hidden spot at the bottom of the panties. His direction changed as he now must pull upward. Her labia sprang into view, swollen and inflamed with lust, the pink contrasting with the cerulean rubber panties. The zipper rose as high as it could travel. David's hot wet tongue burned Meranda as he trailed it down the tender skin now so exposed. Blonde, curly pubic hairs waved like wheat in a field as first he blew on them, then buried his face to harvest their sweetness. She pushed his head lower, lower to the desired spot. Placing a hand on each luscious cheek, David pressed his mouth into her feminine core. He sucked on the hard bud of her clit, his tongue flicking back and forth. "Yes!" breathed Meranda, "just like that!" Her hands at the back of his head held him captive. David moved his head up and down, then in circles, lapping, kissing, nibbling, licking. His tongue probed her coral flesh, her juices running freely to mingle with his saliva. The taste of her filled his mouth. "Oh! Unh! " grunted Meranda as her pleasure began to crescendo. "Don't stop! Don't ...nnnNNNN! YES!" Alison heard Meranda's exclamations of pleasure rise up from the woods like a grouse from tall grass. "Bitch", she muttered under her breath.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: "For whom the ball rolls" STANDING NEXT TO HER PET JULIA, Alison watched as Lady Meranda prepared to tee off. They were on the 9th and final hole in their wager, length 185 yards. A curving fairway, trees on either side. The lush green looked like a verdant carpet on a sloping floor. It rolled from one side to the other. A menacing sand trap yawned just to the left of the green. The contest could not have been closer. Only one stroke separated the two bettors. Lady Meranda was winning. She was one up on the match, one up on The Bet. "Well Meranda, with your one stroke lead, you have the honours," David said, looking up from the scorecard. Meranda looked triumphant as she selected the club from her bag. "And this is the last hole, too," she said. Her gaze was fixed on Alison and Julia. "She may hit first," Alison whispered comfortingly in Julia's ear, "but we will laugh last!" Alison stroked her lovely slave's back. Julia turned wide teary eyes in her Maitresse's direction. If only it would be so! she prayed silently. Alison could not help but admire the sleek tautness of Meranda's buttocks as she bent over to place a ball on the plastic tee. She felt a familiar tingling in her womb as Lady Meranda wiggled her round butt while lining up her shot. The soft white cotton hugged the firm muscles of Meranda's gluteus maximus, the hot, tender crease between the cheeks accentuated by the seam in the shorts. With the ease and confidence of long hours of practice, Lady Meranda slowly raised her club over her right shoulder, the long metal shaft curving backward and backward so far that if it continued, the head would touch the back of a tanned leg. For a moment, time froze. The woman, casually dressed, a light sheen of perspiration on her brow, auburn hair pulled back, still as a Leo Mol figure. A heart beat passed. With a sibilant whisper, the metal club flew back through its prescribed arc. The laws of physics held true as the force carried in the club head was transferred at the moment of impact, into the small white dimpled sphere. The wooden tee snapped in half, a yellow splinter flying into the air. Alison, Julia and Meranda watched transfixed as the golf ball rushed up the ascendant of its flight path. The ball hung at the top of its curve, then began its way back down to earth. Hearts seemed to still as the ball dropped, gravity pulling it earthward at an accelerating pace. Sand flew in all directions as the ball landed smack dab in the middle of the trap. "Damn!" swore Meranda under her breath. "Tough shot, Meranda my dear," soothed David. In her heart, Julia squealed in delight. Now it was Maitresse's turn. If only! "Tough break," Alison said cattily, passing by Meranda. She smiled sweetly at her rival. Meranda smiled back. "Don't count your boobies until they're hatched," Meranda replied sotto voce. She walked over to the pony cart, stopping at a spot between the two ponyslaves. Meranda turned around to face Alison and the tee box. Julia froze, desperate not to move or make a sound. She sensed Lady Meranda was up to no good; she would do something to upset Maitresse, of that Julia had no doubt. The touch on her secret intimate spot between her legs was so surprising, Julia jerked in her traces, chains and leads rattling. The other pony whinnied in surprise at being almost pulled over. Alison whipped around. She scowled to see Meranda stroking her Julia's rubber covered privates. Meranda only smiled and slowly withdrew her hand. She raised it to her mouth, licked it. "Well Alison my dear, it's your turn," she said. "Remember, I'm still one stroke ahead. " She winked at David. "Not that I'm putting any pressure on you, sweetie." David was transfixed, his eyes darting back and forth between the two women and the ponyslave. He was fascinated by the unfolding tableau, mesmerized like a hound on a scent. Alison turned back to the ball. She brought the club head forward, only centimeters from the ball. Wiggled it back a bit, then forward again, trying to absorb the "qi" of the ball, hoping to capture its spirit so it would fly straight and true for her. Slowly, carefully, Alison brought the head of the club back, then, in a burst of power, swung down to meet the ball head on. Thwack! the golf ball skittered off the tee, flying in a wobbly low arc, before splashing into the pond water. A family of ducks quacked their protest. Alison's heart stopped. A lost ball. Julia felt a squirt of hot urine trickle down the inside of her thigh. Her eyes began to moisten. Meranda didn't say a word. The ducks stopped expressing their grievance and settled back down to renew their lazy swim around the pond. Alison, heart and blood frozen, placed another ball on the tee. She swung her club without first addressing the ball. Thwack! This time the ball rose in a beautiful arc, soaring like a raptor seeking its prey. "Beautifully hit!" admired David as the threesome watched, transfixed. Alison's shot was perfect! It raced to the earth some ten feet past the hole. Magically, a backspin took hold, and the ball began to roll back down the hill. Alison clenched the grip of her club so tight she thought it would snap. Come on! she prayed, as the ball rolled back toward the cup. The flag flapped in the breeze. There was a "ping!" sound as the ball hit the pin. Then the unmistakable sound of a golf ball hitting the bottom of a cup. Alison whooped with joy. "Fantastic shot!" gushed David. "A hole in one!" "Beautifully done," cooed Meranda. A genuine smile of pleasure crossed her face. "Of course, with a hole in one you must buy a round of drinks," she jested. "It will be my pleasure, Lady Meranda," said Alison. Incredible! She beamed as she walked over to Julia. A hole in one! She could not lose! The Bet was hers! David's ball landed with a plop! on the green. The golfers headed down the slope toward the final shots of their match. There was a spray of sand as Meranda chipped her ball out of the trap. It stopped about 10 feet away from the pin. Meranda walked over to Alison while David putted. "A hole in one," she said quietly. She placed a hand on the small of Alison's back and rubbed lightly. "Good thing, too," she said, her hand slipping lower, "because losing a ball in the pond is a two stroke penalty." Alison's knees went to water. Meranda continued. "You score three for the hole. I need a three to win." Alison's eyes were enormous as she turned to face Lady Meranda. "I sink this, my dear," whispered Meranda as she grabbed Alison's buttocks, "and your pretty little ass is mine." Meranda gave Alison's butt a knowing possessive pat, and walked over to the green. She gave Alison a wink as she prepared for her shot. The sound of Meranda's putter hitting the ball was the worst, most frightening sound Alison had ever heard. The little white ball, her future, ran up the sloping green in a direct line with the gaping cup. The hole looked to be 3 feet across and growing as Alison watched the little ball roll closer and closer. It slowed as gravity took hold, but it did not stop. The hole loomed larger. The ball stopped. Two inches short. Alison's heart started to beat once more. Two inches. Meranda let out a plaintive wail to see the little white orb nestle quietly in the grass, not moving. "Robbed!" She cried out her disappointment. "Oh Meranda," sympathized Alison, "you certainly were robbed, weren't you!" Julia whinnied in her excitement - her Maitresse had won! They were saved! Meranda sank the ball in the cup. "Well Alison, looks like we've tied after all. Good match. " Her voice was honey. Looped her arm in Alison's. Lady Meranda steered toward the clubhouse. "Come David, I'll have one of my servants look after your caddy and the ponies." Alison smiled triumphantly at Julia as she walked by.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: "Just Desserts" ALISON OPENED HER EYES. She had been so tired, so suddenly tired! She didn't even remember falling asleep. Her whole body felt fatigued, as if she had been stretched on a rack. "That's strange," she thought in her fog. "The room's pitch black." A yawn tried to force its way out of her mouth, but for some strange reason Alison's jaw felt, well, constricted. She couldn't open her mouth all the way, which puzzled her. Alison reached to wipe the sleep from her eyes. Her right hand moved an inch, then stopped. "What the?" was her thought as her mind tried to focus itself. She tried moving her left hand. Same result. Move an inch, no more. Both her hands seemed to be frozen in place above her head - it puzzled her. "Wakey wakey," cooed Lady Meranda. Alison fought to leave her dream state behind and get into real time. There was something going on here she didn't like, and that bitch Meranda was behind it! Alison tried to rise from her bed, only to discover not only could she not move, she was standing already. As the fog dissipated, Alison realized with a start that she was tied, spread-eagled, to a frame of some sort. She could feel the smooth polished wood press against her flesh. "Unh!" she grunted as she tried to free herself. Meranda's peal of laughter echoed eerily. The sound was muffled? "Good, you're awake," laughed Meranda. Alison felt a touch on her face as someone - she was still in blackness - caressed her cheek. "Meranda?" she asked. Her voice sounded weird. Talking was a strange effort, almost as if something was holding her beneath her chin, keeping her jaw almost closed. And the touch on her cheek - she felt it, but it was as if the touch-er was wearing gloves, or ... Alison gasped as she inhaled the ripe smell of rubber. She was wearing a mask! "Meranda!" she barked, her voice strange in her ears. "What's going on? Laughter was the reply she received. She felt a hand on her breast - were her breasts exposed? "Ow!" she exclaimed as the unseen hand pinched and pulled her nipple. Little ribbons of fire and pain raced through her small breast. The nipple grew hard. More laughter. The sudden sting of her other nipple as it too received the rough handling. Alison opened her mouth to say Meranda's name once more. The pressure of lips against hers was sudden, unexpected. The kiss was rough, crushing her dry lips, her mouth penetrated by a strange tongue. Her teeth tickled as the kisser's tongue rippled across her gums. She felt pressure in her groin as a hand pressed against the tender flesh between her legs. With another gasp, Alison realized something hard was already inside her, filling her vagina. The hand was merely pushing on the hardness already inside her. She moaned her fright into the mouth that was raping hers. Meranda broke off the passionate embrace and stepped back to admire her handiwork. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Alison, my dear," she said, her voice rich with pleasure and admiration. "You're a beautiful woman. And you've never looked better." Heels clicking against the cement floor, Meranda walked over to a table against the wall, opposite Alison. She picked up a glass of white wine and raised it to her dark red lips. A pink outline of lipstick remained on the glass. Meranda gazed at the sight before her. It excited her to see someone bound so! She could feel the familiar warm wetness in her groin as she admired Alison. Julia's beloved Maitresse stood on tiptoe, arms and legs stretched apart forming an X. Leather cuffs circling wrists and ankles held her in place; leather straps around biceps and knees ensured mobility was slight, if at all. Tied to a wooden St. Andrew's cross, Alison was incapable of resistance or escape. A rubber hood covered her head, wisps of black hair curling out from beneath the form fitting latex. Alison's lips were vibrant red against the smooth black sleekness which covered the rest of her lovely face. Alison's breasts were exposed by cut-outs in the tight black rubber garment covering her upper body. Slender hips and smooth flat belly were hidden beneath slick black rubber tights; legs were outlined by more black rubber fitting tight as skin. Holding her wineglass in her right hand, Meranda reached for a small box on the table. "Recognize this, my lovely?" she asked, wiggling the black rectangle in front of her. "Oh, sorry, I forgot," she teased. "You're blindfolded and cannot see. Oh dear." Meranda paused for effect. "Well, I'll demonstrate it for you. Maybe that will bring back a memory or two for you." She pressed a green button on the surface of the box. Alison moaned as the vibrator inside her came to life. Meranda pressed a second button. Alison gasped to feel a pulsing vibration start up inside her anus. Meranda twisted a knob. "Unh!" grunted Alison as the twin vibrators began to pump faster, stimulating sensitive tissue. She could feel the beginnings of an orgasm. "Your pet Julia was wearing this when the two of you arrived here," said Meranda as she walked closer to her captive. "I thought you might enjoy it while you're here as my guest." "Meranda!" breathed Alison. "What are you doing?" Her chest heaved, her breathing becoming increasingly shallow as internal pleasures built. "Ahhh!" she exclaimed as Meranda suddenly, viciously twisted her nipple. The pain melded with the building pleasure, her orgasm jumped closer. "Mistress is what you will call me," growled Meranda between clenched teeth. "Remember that, slave!" "But Meranda, the bet!" protested Alison, the pitch of her voice rising in fear. "Oww!" Meranda slapped Alison's already sore breast. "Mistress!" she demanded. "You will call me Mistress!" She pinched both of the helpless girl's exposed teats. Alison choked back a sob. "Ow! Mis - Mistress!" Meranda released the tender flesh. "That's better," she said. "Now where were we?" she teased. "Oh yes, the bet. Well, quite simply, I won the bet and now you're mine." "But Meranda," began Alison. The slapping sound of a hand striking flesh broke the air, cutting off Alison's words. She cried out her pain. She could picture the welts growing on her breasts. "Mistress," she blurted. "But Mistress, we tied! David did the scoring! We tied! You said so yourself! Nobody won!" Meranda stepped closer to Alison's helpless form. She could feel the heat rise up from her prisoner's body. One hand stroked Alison's breast, the other slithered down the rubber-covered belly to the dark moist space between Alison's legs. She brought her face very close to Alison's. "Surely you recall the terms of the bet," spoke Meranda, her voice husky with sex and menace. "If you win, you get the pick of my slaves. If you don't win, I get you." "But we tied." Alison's voice was a little girl's whisper. "That's right, we tied. You didn't win. So... I... Get... You..." Meranda rubbed her hand against Alison's feminine core. She pushed to emphasize each word. The pressure caused stars of pleasure to burst in Alison's blackened world. Leaning forward, Meranda brought her lips ever so softly against Alison's. Her breasts pressed against Alison's. "You're mine," she breathed into Alison's mouth. "To do with as I please. For one full year. And you have no concept of what pleases me!" Alison began to cry as her orgasm began to pulse through her abdomen. From across the room came a male voice. "Excuse me, Mistress, but the package is ready." Lady Meranda turned away from Alison's sobbing form. Her footman stood in the doorway. Behind him, strapped to a wheeled dolly, was a black leather cocoon-shape. Behind the dolly stood a muscular, lean female, She wore a collar about her neck, cuffs at her wrists, and not much else. "Bring it here," commanded Lady Meranda. The footman turned to the female and gestured. She wheeled the black cocoon like thing to a spot next to Alison. Meranda waved her hand. The muscular female slipped the foot of the dolly out from under the cocoon and wheeled back out of the room. She closed the door behind her. Snapping a hook through a ring at the top of the cocoon, the footman secured the thing into an upright position. With the unmistakable ripping zip of Velcro, Lady Meranda peeled the blindfold from the hood enveloping Alison's face. "Tha - thank you, mistress" Alison whispered, blinking to become accustomed to the light. Meranda stroked Alison's breast. The girl shivered at the touch. "My, you are a fast learner aren't you?" Meranda cooed. "That's good. Things will go much easier on you as a result." Something inside the leather bag squirmed. Alison and Meranda both turned to look at it. "I'm sure you remember your little pet?" sneered Meranda. Alison's teary eyes grew wide as she realized Julia, her lovely, loving slave girl was inside the bag. "Julia's been prepared for a short trip she will soon be making." "Prepared? A trip?" queried Alison, her voice soft and hoarse. "Let's see now, what has been done to your little pet while you were sleeping?" Meranda teased. "She has been washed, all her body hair shaved, given a sound spanking. Her ass shows red stripes so beautifully, wouldn't you agree Alison? " Alison couldn't help herself. The thought of this woman touching her much loved Julia was infuriating. She tried to reach for Meranda, intending to claw her eyes out. The locks held fast; all Alison succeeded in doing was making a lot of noise and tiring her already fatigued muscles even more. "You bitch!" she spat out her venom. "She's not yours to touch!" The pain of Meranda's sudden slap across her face only served to increase Alison's fury. She rocked against her bonds, the metal links and wooden cross clanking. "Gag her," Meranda ordered. The footman who had been standing quietly in the shadows, smiled. "With pleasure, My Lady." He bowed low, and then took a tangle of leather and rubber straps from its place on a pegboard. He walked over to Alison, spread-eagled and helpless on the St. Andrew's cross. The footman smiled as he dangled the gagging device in front of Alison's face. She spit at him, the gob landing square on his cheek. He looked over at Lady Meranda, who stood watching with great amusement. "You can punish her for that," she said to the footman. "Thank you My Lady," he murmured, his pleasure obvious. He placed a rubber bulb up against Alison's lips. She clenched her jaw tight. He pushed, she resisted. With his free hand he pinched her nipple. The pain made Alison grimace, but her mouth remained closed. Another pinch, the other breast. Alison's molars ground against each other as she clamped her jaw shut. The hand left her breast. Alison exhaled. Suddenly fingers pressed on both sides of her cheeks. The fingers squeezed. Her mouth was distorted by the pressure. "Open your mouth" The male voice was flat, the fingers unrelenting. The pain in her face was building, but Alison refused to obey. "Mistress?" the footman queried. "Go ahead" came the reply. The pressure stopped, the fingers no longer squeezing her cheeks. Seconds ticked by. Alison held her breath, wondering what was to come. She heard a ripping sound. The footman advanced, holding a piece of t3 inch tape in his hands. He smiled at her as he pressed the sticky stuff against her nose, sealing the breathing holes shut. The footman's face was inches from hers. Determined to resist, Alison sucked in air through clenched teeth. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. He watched Alison's eyes, waiting. Nothing happened. The footman stepped away. His back to Alison, he selected something from a nearby table. He was smiling as he returned to confront the captive. He raised his hands above her head. She was tempted to see what he was doing, but refused to give in to temptation, to show any sign of weakness. Then it started. Alison's head was manhandled as something slithered over top the hood encasing her. There was the unmistakable sound of tape being unrolled. She felt it being wrapped around and around her neck. Plastic touched her clenched teeth when she inhaled. The footman stepped back to watch the chained girl, her head covered first in a rubber hood, then with a plastic bag sealed tight, begin to suffocate. Alison stood still, proud and defiant. She held her breath, confident Meranda would not let any harm come to her. Tick. Tick. Tick. Pressure began to build in her chest. Tick .Tick. Tick. Her pulse thundered in her head. Her chest burned. Her lungs screamed. Tick. Tick. Alison thrashed, her chest heaved involuntarily, her body desperate "Huuhh!" Alison's mouth flew open as she gasped for fresh air. And inhaled plastic. The bag clouded with moisture as she exhaled. The plastic squeezed her head as it sealed shut. Alison jerked against the chains, panicking. She was going to die! The footman looked over at Lady Meranda. She held her hand, palm forward. He did not move. The girl on the frame thrashed, her head tossing frantically. Muffled moans and screams erupted as she so desperately fought for life-giving air. Lady Meranda lowered her hand. The footman stepped forward. Grabbing Alison's head with one hand, he ripped an opening in the plastic bag with the other. "Unnnhh!" gasped his prisoner, the fresh air flooding her burning lungs. She screamed as he covered her mouth with his meaty hand, shutting off the air supply once more. Her legs kicked, her waist pulled against the straps holding her fast. Alison slumped, gasping for breath as the footman released his grip. He looked over at Lady Meranda for instruction. "Again." The footman placed his right hand at the top of Alison's head. "No," the girl hissed, "no more." She opened her mouth. Smiling lewdly, the footman thrust the rubber bulb inside her now open mouth. The rubber tasted bitter. Alison tried to force it out again with her tongue, but the footman had all the advantages. He slapped her face. Her resistance faded. He squeezed a breast. Resistance stopped. He ripped the plastic covering from her head. The torn material dangled around the tape still encircling her slender throat. He left the tape across her nostrils. Working quickly, obviously well versed in what he was doing, he fastened a leather strap behind Alison's head. The strap bit into her cheeks. He raised a network of straps - an inverted Y traversed either side of her nose to meet in a single strap between her eyes; another strap went under her chin, yet more straps crisscrossed her forehead and skull. The footman buckled them all in place, ensuring the gag could not be dislodged. Satisfied, he went back to the first strap, pulling it tighter, then re-fastened each of the other straps, making the web even tighter about Alison's head. Alison hissed. Her eyes narrowed in hatred and fury. The footman looked her in the eyes. He smiled, raising a rubber bulb and piece of attached tubing up to where Alison could see it. He squeezed the bulb. The rubber ball inside her mouth grew bigger with each successive squeeze. She could not move her jaw as the ball inflated, filling her mouth, pressing against her palate, driving her tongue to the bottom of her mouth, puffing her cheeks against the web of straps. Alison moaned as the pressure began to interfere with her breathing. Another squeeze. The inflated gag filled her mouth, the rubber pressing against her soft palate. Still another squeeze. The bulb grew inside her, the pressure now cutting off her breathing passage. Alison bucked in her bonds, suddenly suffocating. Spots began to flash before her eyes. Her heart raced. She started to black out. "Let her breathe," came Lady Meranda's voice from afar. "Yes Mistress," the footman said humbly. He released some of the pressure, deflating the ball slightly. He removed the tape sealing her nostrils. Alison gulped air through her nose, her breathing ragged and shallow. She slumped in her bonds, exhausted, terrified. The footman stood still, watching Alison's chest rising as she slowly regained her composure. She raised her head. He glanced over at Lady Meranda, who nodded in return. The first nipple clamp was a shock. The bite of the second clamp on her other nipple hurt even more. The footman pulled toward him the chain linking the two metal clamps. Alison's nipples were yanked and stretched. With his free hand, he slapped her breasts. The outline of his hand appeared as the blood rose to the surface of the tender white flesh. Alison's scream was distorted by the gag. It was a harsh, throaty sound, like an animal in pain. The footman slapped her breasts several more times. There was a rapping on the door. The footman let go of the chain. It dropped down to hang in a half circle across Alison's rubber covered chest. She sobbed in pain and relief. "Enter," said Lady Meranda. Through her tears, Alison saw the Bedouin master on whom dinner had been spilled walk confidently into the room. Two males accompanied him, one carrying a jumble of straps, the other carrying something that looked much like the cocoon in which Julia lay hidden. "Welcome Hassan! You're right on time, as usual!" Lady Meranda greeted him with a warm smile. Hassan returned the smile. "Good afternoon, gracious Lady. Are the packages ready for me?" "As you can see, dear Hassan, they are yours when and how you want them." She swept her hand indicating Alison and Julia. Alison raised her head in surprise. She wanted to ask what was going on but only unintelligible sounds escaped her throat. She felt weak, overwrought, and knew she was not going to like whatever it was that was coming her way. Hassan walked over to Alison. He ran his hand down her outstretched arms, inspecting her. He lightly touched the underside of her breasts, lifting them for inspection. His inspection continued, the hand flying over the flat of her belly, probing between her legs. A finger snaked up and down the valley between her buttocks. His hand traveled down one thigh, then the other. He said something in Arabic to one of the men standing behind him, then walked over to the cocoon holding Julia. "This is the other one?" he asked Meranda. "She is, " smiled the Dominatrix, "just as you requested." Snapping his fingers, Hassan spoke in rapid fire Arabic. The two males dashed over to Julia, unsnapped the hook holding her upright. One held the bag, the other unzipped it. Together they peeled the leather from the captive girl. Julia had been blindfolded and collared. Her arms were secured behind her in a single glove; straps clamped legs tightly together. Even her big toes were tied together. She wore a chastity belt made of steel. Alison suspected there were hidden plugs for both orifices. Julia was gagged with a rubber ball harness; a metal ring protruded from the centre of the ball. The males placed Julia on the floor next to the pile of leather they had brought with them. Then, turning to Alison, walked over to the St. Andrew's cross holding her like a butterfly on a board. Kneeling one on either side, the males unfastened her ankles, then locked the ankle cuffs together. In a flash leather straps had been buckled around Alison's knees and thighs, securing her legs tightly closed. They reached for her wrists. Alison was worn out, but she tried to resist nevertheless. Fatigue and the males were stronger than she, however, and soon she found her arms locked behind her back in a single glove. The bondage thrust her breasts forward in a most enticing way. A strap attached to the end of the leather sleeve was pulled between her legs and drawn up to her collar. Her arms were now immobile, the strap pressing the vibrator between her legs further inside her. The males picked her up and carried her over to where her slave Julia lay helpless. Lady Meranda stepped across Alison's form. She looked down on the once proud mistress. "You see my dear," she explained. "When you enter into a bet, you should always be very clear about the terms. You had to win the match, not tie, so you lost the bet. And your slave." Meranda bent close to Alison's face. "And your freedom." Rising, Meranda turned to Hassan. "Well Hassan," she said, "I must admit, you won our bet fair and square." Hassan nodded in Meranda's direction. Meranda turned back to Alison. "You see my dear," she cooed, caressing Alison's face. As she spoke, Meranda traced a tear as it trickled down Alison's cheek. "The wager we had was not the only one I made. There was David, who like you, lost." She leaned close to Alison. "He gives wonderful tongue, but you'll never know that, will you?" she whispered. Meranda continued. "And, after I beat Hassan last year, he wanted to wager again this year. So we did." She smiled. "Unfortunately, Hassan was on the winning side this year, which puts me on the losing side. He won the use of two of my slaves for six months. Fortunately I had a fall back position: our little wager. Fortunately for me, that is," she laughed. Meranda smiled at the Arab. "They're all yours, Hassan. Enjoy yourself, and them. But remember, you must give them back, in good condition and without any permanent marks, in six months." She kissed first Alison and then Julia, on the forehead. "See you in six months, girls. I hope you find the harem to your liking!" Rising to her feet, Meranda turned on her heel and left the room. With a gesture accompanied by a few words in Arabic, Hassan instructed his servants to prepare the two bound women for traveling. The males rolled Alison over to face Julia. A long leather strap was passed around the waists of the two women, pressing them together. Alison stared into Julia's blindfolded face. "I'm sorry precious one," she whispered. Her words were rendered total nonsense by the gag filling her mouth. More straps were wound around legs, ankles and upper bodies. The males attached a short metal bar between the two collars, holding their heads in place. A small padlock joined the ring in Julia's gag to a matching ring in Alison's. The two women were now inseparable. The males began to slide a large rubber sack over the feet and legs of the two women. They stopped when they reached their captives' necks. Hassan squatted by Alison's head. She could not turn her head to look at him directly. He stroked her face. He wiped a tear from the rubber covering her cheek. "Poor Alison," he mocked. "Once such a proud and beautiful mistress, now a slave. Poor, poor dear." He stood, then squatted again. "You know, in your new role as a slave, you should have a new identity. And I know just what is fitting for you and your little friend here." Alison mewled pitifully. "Your little friend I shall call "shortcake", he said stroking Julia's face. His hand left Julia and caressed Alison once again. "And you, you my haughty one," he said as he ran his hand along Alison's side, stopping at her ass. Hassan emitted a derisive chuckle. "You will be 'strawberry'." He stood, laughing. The two males closed the bag over the women's heads. Hassan barked a command in Arabic, and the bagful of new slaves was carried out of the room. "Strawberry shortcake. So delicious!" Hassan's laughter reverberated in the room as he closed the door behind him. The End Fore! Play by Fox 1
Review This Story || Email Author: Fox