Lost for Words F/f, F+/f, B/D, D/s, slavery, reluctant, serious, rape Golden Flower blinked as she was dragged up out of the darkness of her cell, her eyes dazzled by the light of the lanterns. It had been pitch black where she had been kept, a small, dark cell, with nothing to do but try to count the hours passing and await her fate. Her two guards held her firmly, a little too firmly. Both were beautiful women, dusky-skinned, and dark-eyed. Their sultry gazes ravished Flower's beautiful and ill-concealed body, their full lips pursed into knowing smiles. The warrior woman blushed most uncharacteristically beneath their shameless attention. She struggled as much as she could, but she was too weak, groggy from her imprisonment, from lack of sleep, from the blow to her head that had felled her. The guards could hold her easily, bringing her to the throne room where the new queen awaited. End of Chapter Four "How's the new story going?" Amy looked at the e-mail, wondering how to reply. She'd been evading e-mails and phone calls from her editor for weeks now, but this was from Christina, her self-styled 'biggest fan'. "Not well," she typed in. "I haven't been able to write anything in weeks." She'd never had writers' block this bad before. Oh, there had been moments here and there, but nothing like this. It wasn't as if she were writing War and Peace after all. It was simple. She wrote trashy lesbian bondage stories with various fantasy themes. Forty thousand words were enough. She usually managed by taking a fantasy genre, crafting a flimsy adventure plot, adding large amounts of lesbian sex, rape, torture, and there it was. She could do one in two or three months usually. It wasn't as if she was actually a lesbian herself. She wasn't. She wasn't much of anything at all these days. She was shy, quite insular and had few friends. For as long as she could remember, she had always wanted to be a writer. As a child she'd written all sorts of fantastical stories. Unfortunately she'd had no luck getting her serious stories published. They were always rejected for being too long, too serious, stilted writing style, all sorts of reasons. Then, she'd stumbled across a publisher called House of Chains, quite by accident while searching for publishers on the Net. They accepted unsolicited manuscripts as long as they had lots of sex in them, and weren't too long. It didn't sound entirely inspiring, but Amy was running low on both money and self-esteem. If she could get something published, something on paper, then that would be something. Her first book was done in six weeks, and was called A Rape of Panthers, about an arrogant noblewoman who buys a savage outlaw woman as a lesbian slave, only to be captured and taken off into the jungle as a slave in turn. It sold out quickly. So did the second print run, and in no time at all the publishers were on at her for a second book. And then a third. Without realising it, Amy had found herself a career. This wasn't what she wanted to write at all, but it was easy enough, the money was good, and she did enjoy seeing one of her books published. She used a pseudonym, of course, but she knew it was hers, and that was enough. It also meant she could make a living from writing, which was all she had ever wanted to do. Now, at twenty-four, she was the author of sixteen books, the owner of her own house, and able to manage independently, which was all she ever wanted. Except it now looked like it all might be ending. Maybe that wasn't so bad. She could go back to serious writing, give that a try. Have a break, perhaps. Work out what else she could do. Except there wasn't anything else she could do. She had always been shy, very solitary, with few friends. Her parents were dead, and the rest of her family very distant. (God, if they knew what she did for a living, it would kill them!) However, there were a few friends she communicated with by e-mail. She had never met any of them, and knew nothing about them at all other than what they chose to tell you. But then, she was selective with what she told them as well, so it all worked out. It gave her a little thrill to talk with people behind this illusion. Christina was one of the best of those internet friends. She had e-mailed Amy after the first book was published, and it had been her encouragement as well as the money that had persuaded Amy to continue with writing. "Maybe I can help," came back the next e-mail. "Send me what you've done, and I'll have a look at it." Amy thought about this for a while. Christina had given her good ideas in the past, and she certainly followed the books with a passion Amy found both flattering and slightly disturbing. She had even worked out a chronology to place all the books in the same world, linking together two of the villains from separate books. It was certainly worth a try. Amy sent her the first four chapters of her latest book, A Flower Chained, and set back, hoping for some inspiration to arrive from somewhere. She had no idea what the problem was. The plot was not radically different from anything else she had written. Her heroine, Golden Flower, was a swordswoman who had sworn service to the queen Taniella. However, Taniella's country had been invaded by her evil twin, Salome the witch. Flower had helped her queen escape, but had been captured in the process. She was just being brought before Salome. That was where her ideas ended. She could not conjure up the image of what Salome looked like, how she dressed, what she would do to the helpless heroine. Whenever she tried to envisage something, she was merely reminded of her previous villainesses - the corrupt sorceress Senyakhaz from Castle of Slavery, or Lady Wranna from Songs of Decadence and Lust, or the shapechanging Ardala from Faces of Desire. Maybe this was for the best. Then, a day or so later, Chrstina replied to her. "I like it!" she began. "But I think I can see your problem. I have some ideas that might fix it." Amy smiled. She knew Christina would come up with something. Then she read the next line. "Perhaps we should meet up and talk. I'd love to have you come and visit me, to thank you for all the inspiration you've given me!" Amy froze. Meeting her was nothing like what she had intended. She hadn't met anyone in person, except for her editor briefly. What if Christina had preceonceptions about her? She knew that Chrstina was a lesbian, and made a living as a lesbian dominatrix. Chrstina may assume she was as well. No, she couldn't. It would be absurd. She would get around this herself. It probably wouldn't matter even if she couldn't finish it. This wasn't the type of thing she really wanted to write anyway. She held off a reply for a while, pottering around, hoping for inspiration to come. Twice she tried to continue the story, and twice she was unable to write so much as a single word. The second time, she had stared at the blank screen for half an hour, before finally breaking down in tears. She was alerted from her crying fit by the arrival of another e-mail from Christina. "I really think this can be a great book," it said. "I'd like to help you. Please reply." Drying her eyes, Amy did, and said she would love to come and meet her. She had her doubts before sending, and deleted the message. But then she thought of that terrible blank screen and the utter lack of ideas, and she re-typed her reply. She had never before realised just how much writing meant to her. It was all she had done now for almost five years. Although it was easy to think of the stories as trashy and simplistic and immoral, she had written them. They were hers. Amy didn't know what she would do if she couldn't write any more. "Great!" came Christina's reply. It came with directions. Amy was relieved to know she did not live that far away. She knew from the e-mail address that Chrstina lived in Britain, and so it wasn't a foreign country or anything, but she was only a few hours away by train. Arrangements were made, Amy packed a few belongings, including her laptop, and she went. She met Chrstina at the train station, and was surprised at what she looked like. Amy was not sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn't the elegantly dressed woman waiting there. Christina had light brown hair, tied up conservatively, slightly taller than Amy herself, with the hints of a good figure beneath her clothes. There was another woman there. Younger, maybe twenty, with blond hair and a magnificent body clearly visible through a low cut blouse, open jacket and short skirt. She was standing a few steps behind Christina. "Oh, God!" Christina cried, as Amy approached them. "You look so young. I thought you'd be older than that. Asian, too. I knew it. All your heroines were Oriental. You look just like Star Lily." Amy blushed slightly. Star Lily was the heroine of Castle of Slavery, one of her favourite books, one of the best-selling as well. Star Lily was incredibly beautiful, and brave, destroying the reign of the sorceress Senyakhaz. The editors kept demanding a sequel. "You're too kind," she said, quietly, already thinking this was a mistake. She had changed her mind several times about this on the train, but it had been too late then. She moved forward with her bags. "Katya will take your bags." The blond girl stepped forward and took them from an unresisting Amy, smiling broadly. "She's my maid," Christina added. "Oh, I've waited so long to meet you. Come on, we'll get a taxi back to mine." Christina talked a lot along the way, lapsing into occasional moments of starstruck awe that Amy found very embarrassing. She had clearly not only read all of Amy's books many times over, but had practically memorised them all. "One of my clients is a big fan as well. Last time she came, we re-enacted the scene from Songs, you know, the one where Chase is tortured by Wranna." "I know the one," Amy admitted uncomfortably. She'd written that whole chapter in a few hours, not stopping for a break once. "Castle was my favourite. Or maybe Panthers. I loved Star Lily. You really should write a sequel. What happened to her after the castle collapsed and those slavers caught her?" "I might write a sequel some day," Amy admitted. She didn't add, "if I ever get rid of this writers' block." Still, Christina didn't talk about any of her great ideas for A Flower Chained, and Amy was too polite (not to mention, nervous) to press her on them. Christina evidently lived further away from the station than Amy had thought, because it was dark when the taxi arrived. "This house is huge," she breathed, looking up at it. "My job pays well," Christina replied. "Besides, I work from here, so it needs to be big enough to encompass all my clients' fantasies." "Ah, do you have any... ah... clients booked for...?" "Diary's clear. I'm not letting anything get in the way of this. Oh! I've wanted to meet you for such a long time. You look just like I imagined, you know. Sort of a cross between Star Lily and Miria." The constant references to Star Lily puzzled Amy. Her heroines were all beautiful, tall, voluptuous, athletic, pretty. Most of them were Asian, true, but that was where the similarities ended, at least as far as Amy saw it. "You must be tired. Katya will take your bags to your room. Do you want a drink? Tea? Coffee? They settled in a large living room, Amy looking around wide-eyed. This was nothing like she'd expected a dominatrix's lair to look like. She'd half-imagined a place looking like a scene from her books. This was pleasant, casual, nicely furnished. Katya returned with a drink. Amy sipped at it. "You, ah... you said you had some ideas?" "Oh, plenty of time for that later. I've really looked forward to meeting you, you know." "Yes," Amy smiled, feeling uncomfortable with all the praise. This really hadn't been a good idea. The sooner she could leave, the better. Perhaps she could manufacture some family emergency that would necessitate her leaving. She sat there awkwardly, drinking her tea, listening to Chrstina's praise. Finished, she set the mug down. "You must be tired. Travel always makes me tired." "Yes," Amy said. "I am a... little..." Her head was swimming, suddenly, a giddiness sweeping over her. "Katya will show you to your room." Amy stood up, to follow the girl. She took a step, and almost fell over. Everything was blurring around her. She took another step, and completely collapsed. She felt Katya pick her up, and she was sure Christina said something, but she had no idea what it was, as sleep took her. -------- Amy woke up to total darkness, her head pounding. The floor was cold beneath her. She tried to stand up, and found that she was bound. Chains were wrapped around her, a short length holding her wrists behind her back, fixed to a metal collar around her neck; a slightly longer chain between her ankles. Other than the manacles, she was completely naked. She tried to calm herself. She had put many of her heroines in this position before, but she had never thought to experience it herself. She had never had bondage fantasies at all. This was a joke. That was all. She ran that thought through her mind several times, and even spoke it out loud. This was just a... joke. "Hey!" she said, a little too quietly at first. "Hey!" she called out louder. "Someone let me out! Christina! This... this isn't funny!" There was a sudden rectangle of light from one side of her room, and then a door opening, revealing a female form silhouetted in it. Amy closed her eyes rapidly, and so did not see the woman who came to her and pulled her from the room, one strong hand around her bound arm. Amy's feet caught in her chains, and she stumbled, being caught by the woman. When her vision cleared, she looked around. The woman was Katya, but dressed completely differently. She was wearing a tight leather bustier that barely concealed her impressive bosom, pushing her breasts up and out. Also a short skirt, also leather, and boots that came up to just under her knee. A thick belt around her slim waist held an item that could only be a coiled whip. "What is this?" Amy said, wishing she had been able to sound firmer than she had. "Is this some sort of joke?" Katya pushed her roughly against the wall, and Amy cried out with the impact. "Her Majesty demands your attendance, Lady Flower. What Salome wants, she gets." Flower? Salome? Characters from her book. But what? Her head cleared, and she realised this was the scene, the one she had had trouble with. "Katya, please," she said. "This isn't funny. Let me go... please." She sounded pathetic, and was instantly disgusted with herself. Katya pulled at her collar, and dragged her behind her. Amy stumbled and staggered as she was pulled along behind the blond woman. This was all just a joke, perhaps a misguided attempt by Christina to help her writers' block. She would explain this wasn't necessary, and get Christina to let her go. She wasn't into this sort of thing, whatever the contents of her books. That was just for the money. Oh, my God! She was naked, completely naked in front of this woman. Christina would see her naked as well. She couldn't even cover herself up with her hands. Oh, no! "Golden Flower," said a deep, sultry voice. "The pleasure is mine." Amy looked up. She had completely lost track of where she had been taken. She had expected the living room, or perhaps Christina's bedroom. Not this. The room was long, covered with shadows, lit only by several flickering candles, decorated in an ornate, Arabian style. Manacles hung from the walls and ceiling, hooks were set into the floor. Silken draperies hung everywhere. The walls were covered with pictures, each one, Amy was terrified to notice, featuring beautiful women in bondage. At the far end of the room, lounging on a long couch, sat Christina, except that she looked completely unlike the woman Amy had met at the train station. Christina was wearing mere scraps of silk, one wound around her impressive bosom, providing the merest hint of concealment, the other around her waist, wisping over her loins. Her legs were bare, one stretched out, brushing the floor, the other folded beneath her. Her face was made-up to make her look sultry and powerful, her long hair hanging loose around her face and shoulders. She looked like a queen, a powerful and dangerous woman. Amy was forced to the floor in front of her. Christina was running her eyes slowly and languidly up and down her naked body. Blushing, Amy tried to cross her legs, and bend over. "You have a lovely body, Golden Flower. Why do you try to hide it from me?" Amy tried to say something, but her throat was locked shut. She felt a single tear trickle down her face. "Did you hide it from my sister? Were you so bashful with her? Was this part of the charm of your relationship?" Amy cried out as Katya grabbed her hair and forced her up to a kneeling position. Her body was now wide open for Christina to study, and study it she did. "Answer Queen Salome," Katya hissed from behind her. "Christina, please," Amy said. "This is a bad joke. Please, let me go." But Christina continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I grew up in her shadow, you know. Everything she wanted, she had. Everything she ever wanted. I made a promise to myself that one day, I would take everything of hers. "And now, see. Everything she owned is mine. I have her palace, her country." She smiled a thick, seductive smile. "I have her lover. "I do not have her, of course. Not yet. But I will. You will tell me where she has gone." "No," Amy said. Please, can't you see this is a bad joke? Let me go! But she couldn't say those things. All she could say was, "no," over and over again. "Yes, my dear Flower. You will. But first, you will come to me as you did her. You will love me as you did her. You will come crawling to my bed, and you will lick me and kiss me and worship me and do everything that I wish you to." "No," Amy said again. She was crying more this time. "No. Christina, please..." "Gag her," Christina suddenly ordered. Amy cried out as Katya suddenly forced a thick strip of wound leather into her mouth. It was buckled around the back of her head and firmly fastened there. She tried to speak, but she could not. The foul taste of the leather filled her senses. "You will call me Mistress Salome," Christina said. "Or 'Majesty', whichever you prefer. Until you can call me either of those things, better you remain silent." This was crazy. This was insane. Amy couldn't think at all. This was just a bad joke. Oh, God, why had she ever come here? Why had she ever written those books at all? She must have known something like this would happen. "Look at you," Christina purred, in a voice silkily powerful. "Crying like a girl. You used to be so proud, Flower. So strong and arrogant. I doubt you ever believed you would find yourself like this, did you?" Amy shook her head. That was certainly true. Christina stepped down from her throne - the couch! - and walked over towards Amy, slowly and powerfully. She looked just like Amy would have imagined Salome to look. The clothing, the walk, the incredible arrogance and beauty... it was all perfect. Amy's head was forced up as Christina stood over her. She whimpered pathetically as her captor stroked her face gently, scooping up a tear, and licking it slowly. "You taste nice," she noted. "You taste afraid." Katya held her tight, unable to move, forced to look up into the face of the woman who had drugged her, who held her prisoner. "You will crawl to me," Christina hissed. "You will kiss my feet, you will worship me." The word 'will' was said with great emphasis, causing Amy to flinch each time. There was no doubt in Christina's mind that these things would come to pass. "You will deliver yourself to me. You will beg me to touch you, to kiss you, to rape you until you scream. You will do all these things." She smiled, and Amy shivered. She had described her villainesses smiling evilly many times, but she had never seen anyone actually do it. "And you will be mine. "You have one chance, little Flower. One chance before I begin your torture. Will you surrender yourself to me?" Torture? Oh, no, she wouldn't dare. This was one thing, but actual torture! Amy remembered the whip Katya had tucked inside her belt. Yes! She'd do anything! Just as long as she wasn't hurt! She couldn't bear pain! She tried to say yes, but her voice was muffled by the gag. She tried to nod furiously, but Katya held her head steady. "No?" Christina said, playfully. "Oh, well, I would have expected nothing else from the brave and loyal Golden Flower. I am sure it will take a lot of effort to break you." She returned to her throne, and sat done. "But break you, I will." Again with the emphasis. Amy trembled, and began to sob uncontrollably. ---------- She did nothing to resist as Katya unchained her delicately. She could have tried to escape, but she dared not. Katya handled her gently, but making it very clear that she could be more forceful should it be necessary. Once her arms were free, Amy was pulled up to her feet, one arm pulled upwards, a manacle fastened around her left wrist. She could stand, but only on tiptoes. Her other arm was left to flop by her side. Her left leg was pulled up behind her, and Amy realised how she was to be bound. She began to squirm, but Katya merely tightened her grip and forced the leg upwards, fixing the chain to her left ankle, and securing the other manacle to her right wrist. The length of chain was very short, no more than a foot, and there was very little she could do to relieve the pressure. This was painful now. She knew that in hardly any time at all, it would become excruciating. This done, poor Amy dangling by one arm and balancing awkwardly on one foot, Katya stepped back from her. Christina moved forward, standing very close to the chained girl. "What did you and my sister do in bed?" she asked, huskily. "What did you like her to do to you?" Amy whimpered, still gagged. Her leg was trembling, her muscles beginning to burn. "Did she stroke your cunt? Did she kiss your breasts?" Christina brushed Amy's breast lightly, and the helpless girl trembled. It was only the merest brush, and yet the slight sensation ran through her as if she were electrocuted. "I bet she did. You have lovely breasts, my little Flower." She bent down and kissed Amy's nipple. At first, she just brushed it with her full lips, but when she opened her mouth slightly, and brushed the pink nipple gently with her tongue. She began to lap at it, as if she were a cat with a bowl of cream. When she took the nipple fully between her lips, sucking at it, Amy had thrown her head back, shaking. She had never known anything like that. No one had ever kissed her breasts before. She had described this scene several times, but had never dreamed she would experience it. How did her heroines survive scenes like this? Christina was obviously enacting an imagined scene from her book. If Amy was to cope, was to survive, she would have to become like Golden Flower. What did her heroines do? She struggled to concentrate, to ignore the burning ache in her sore muscles, and the long, wet kiss in her breast. What did her heroines do? She realised the answer in a terrifying burst of clarity. They surrendered. All of them had succumbed to torture. They had escaped later, and won and saved the day, by luck, or by being rescued by friends. They were all strong-willed, but ultimately they had all broken. Senyakhaz had made Star Lily her slave. Chase had been broken by Lady Wranna's tortures. Tarilanna had been reduced to a mere slave. Miria had been rescued from the Priestesses of Lir by her friends. Amy was crying piteously as Christina turned her attention to the other breast. Her heroines were strong-willed, athletic, blessed by destiny, and none of them had withstood torture like this. How could she? In no time at all, both her nipples were erect, throbbing with the attention, wet and dripping with Christina's saliva. Amy's cruel captor pinched them both mercilessly, and then gestured to Katya. The blond guard brought forward two small objects, glinting metallically. Amy looked at them and her eyes widened above her gag. No! No! Please, no! But she could not speak, and she doubted Christina would have shown her mercy even if she could. Senyakhaz would not have, nor Wranna. Nor would Salome, of course. Amy had not yet introduced Salome, having her mentioned only through rumours, or dreams. Part of the problem with the story had been that she had no idea of what Salome wanted, or looked like, or planned to do with Golden Flower. Now, she did know. Salome had risen in her mind, looking exactly like Christina did. Christina's voice, silkily seductive, imperious, arrogant, vengeful... that was how Salome would speak. And Salome would show no mercy. She would pause at nothing to obtain what she wanted, and what she wanted was everything that had belonged to her sister. Flower and Taniella had never been lovers, but Salome clearly thought they were. Amy shook as the first golden clamp was fixed to her stiff nipple. Christina ran the thick golden chain that linked it to its mate through her hands, enjoying the pain and the terror in Amy's eyes. Then, mercilessly, she atached the second to the other nipple. "Did my sister do this to you?" Christina paused. "I doubt it. She was always too soft. She never treated you like the slut you are. I bet she never tied you up, or whipped your pretty little body. You've had a very soft life here, haven't you?" Amy could only look at her, terrified beyond belief, convinced that Salome would not stop until she was broken, utterly broken. No one would come to rescue her. No one. No, not Salome! Christina! This was Christina, her 'biggest fan', not a fictional witch queen. "Stay there for a time," Christina purred. "And watch." She reclined back on the couch, and Katya joined her, shedding her scanty leather clothing. She kissed her Mistress longingly, and then slid down to her knees, kissing and licking at Christina's silky thighs, slowly moving her mouth upwards. Amy watched as Christina was brought to a passionate, furious orgasm. She had never seen such a furious release before, certainly never experienced anything like that herself. A thought came to her through the aching pain that filled her. Flower would be as inexperienced as she was. A beautiful warrior woman, used to drawing the attention of both men and women, but seldom pursued that interest. She was in love with Taniella, holding a helpless and unrequited love for her true queen. Taniella did not love her back, and so Flower had remained apart from anyone else. The book was starting to take form now. Amy's fingers were itching to resume writing. But she was still bound, unable to move beyond the agonising position that held her. She tried to shift her leg further up to relieve the pressure on her arm, but then she almost lost her already precarious balance. The pain in her left arm was bad enough as it was, without it having to hold up her entire body weight. Then she tried to lower her leg as much as she could, only to risk forcing her body back, pulling at her right arm. There was nothing she could do, but wait and watch and try to endure. When Christina was done, she pushed Katya aside imperiously, and rose, the thin strip of silk around her waist now discarded. Amy had never seen another woman's sex before, and she could not help but let her gaze drop to Christina's groin. The hair there was damp and matted. There was a pungent smell of arousal rising. Christina brushed Amy's belly lightly, and the poor girl nearly overbalanced. "Did my sister ever do that to you?" she asked. Amy was whimpering behind her gag, desperately trying to speak. Christina reached for the gag, and withdrew it from Amy's mouth. "What do you have to say for yourself, my precious Flower?" she asked. "Please," Amy whispered. What had she wanted to be called? "Mistress Salome... please let me down. I'll do..." She felt wretched, sick, but she could not endure this any more. "I'll do anything you want." "You'll kneel down before me, kiss my feet?" "Yes, Majesty." "You'll kiss my tits and worship me utterly?" "Yes, Majesty." "You'll beg to be allowed to lick me, to fuck me, to do every disgusting and degrading thing I want to your helpless body? You will sell yourself to me as my eternal slave?" Amy was crying. "Yes, Majesty." Christina snorted. "This is a trick. Queen Taniella's bodyguard, Golden Flower, would never break so early. This is all a lie." Amy tried to protest, but the gag was swiftly forced back into her mouth. "I do not like those who lie to me. Remain here a while, and perhaps then your words will be more sincere." She strode from the room, her head held high, Katya following her, pausing to deliver a look of triumph to the bound girl. Amy was then left alone, a helpless flower chained in place and left to suffer the merciless cruelties of Queen Salome. ---------- Golden Flower hung there helplessly, weeping at her weakness. She had almost surrendered herself to Salome so easily. It had taken so little effort for her to be broken like that. Not even Salome could believe that. She had thought it a trick, not realising that Flower really had begged for mercy. Her queen was safe, and that thought gave Flower some small peace during the long hours of her agonising bondage. Her body, though fit and athletic from long training, was soon trembling with pain at the unnatural position of her bondage. But worse pain by far was the burning within her, the yearning for the cruel and evil touch of Salome. She remembered the hot kisses upon her breasts, the slow teasing that brought her nipples to full prominence. She could still hear Salome's taunting questions as to whether she had done this with Taniella. Flower had not, but oh, how she had yearned to. Salome was evil, bitter, twisted, cruel, but she shared one thing alone with her kind and gentle sister. Physically, she was the exact duplicate. It may as well have been Taniella kissing and caressing and torturing her. How was Salome to know how long Flower had yearned for the true queen to kiss and touch her in that way? How was Salome to know just how much she resembled Taniella, and just how difficult it was for Flower to tell her apart? Amy winced as renewed pangs of agony shot through her arm and leg. She was teetering, only just able to maintain her balance. She knew her face was streaked with tears. She knew what a pitiful figure she resembled. And yet ideas were rising and forming within her mind. She could not recall the last time she had felt like this: able to compose plots and characterisation and motivations so easily. She could fathom out the rest of the book now, gain an understanding of what had happened so far. A little re-writing of the beginning would be necessary, but other than that... She winced again. Thinking of writing was the only thing that could take her thoughts away from the pain of her position. She had to be able to write again. Surely Christina would allow her that. Whatever else was taken away from her, surely she would be permitted to write. Her heart leapt when Katya returned for her. She was dressed differently, a thin silken gown wrapped around her magnificent form. She walked around Amy slowly, admiring the writer's naked body. Amy was too anguished to be ashamed. As long as she was cut down soon... Please, cut me down! Mercifully, Katya did, untying the chains and allowing Amy to fall to a heap upon the fall. She could simply lie there for a long time, crying piteously, feeling sensation return to her limbs, as abused muscles protested their long bondage. When Katya removed her nipple clamps, she actually thanked her profusely, except that she was still gagged, and could not speak. When Katya removed her gag, Amy could only squeak out slight noises. "Come on," snarled Katya, fixing a thin leather leash to the chain collar that was now all she wore. Awkwardly, painfully, Amy stood up and followed the heartless woman from the room where she had been chained. She was led to a bathroom, gloriously fashioned in marble and gold, the image of ancient decadence. She wondered if this was for Christina's clients as well, or if her captor simply liked the design. Amy balked as Katya directed her to the toilet, but the tight feeling in her bladder won, and she went there, before the blond's piercing gaze. That brought Amy's mind back from fancies and fantasies, and to reality. She was a prisoner here, kept naked and tied up by a woman who had clearly inspired all of this around the plots of her own books. Amy knew she could expect torture and all manner of hideous fates to follow, for that was what happened to her heroines. Such things were easier by far to imagine than to experience. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be. Once she was done, Katya never having moved her gaze, Amy was blushing furiously, bitterly ashamed. "You look a mess," Katya pronounced. "Into the shower. Wash yourself thoroughly. Mistress' orders." She removed Amy's collar and leash and stood back, leaving the writer utterly naked. Amy obeyed, stepping into the shower and wincing as cold water cascaded over her body. Again, aware that Katya was watching her, she took the soap and began to lather herself all over. Closing her eyes, she tried to relish the experience. Her muscles were sore, her skin sweaty, her face marked by tears. She rubbed herself over, lathering and rinsing her long hair. She was almost feeling normal when Katya said, "cunt and arse too. Clean them out." This had almost been a normal, ordinary experience before that. It had been easy to ignore Katya's presence and enjoy the every-day moment of a shower. Now, she was reminded again of where she was, and why she was doing this. For a moment she trembled there, shame and fear gripping her, but then a rational voice - Golden Flower's voice - stopped her. You will be tortured eventually, it said. Take this time. Make it last as long as you can. Amy shivered, and picked up the soap again, setting to cleaning herself out as much as she could. As her soapy hand slid over her thin pussy lips, she was shocked to find the raised nib of her clit. Just brushing it caused shockwaves of pleasure to emanate through her. She couldn't recall the last time she had felt like that. Painfully aware of her audience, she began to rub herself there again. "None of that," snapped Katya. "You're here to clean yourself out for the Mistress, not play with yourself." Shamed again, Amy resumed washing, keeping her head down, doing as Katya ordering, even submitting to a humiliating check, as the blond woman knelt behind her, and pulled her arse cheeks open. "Good enough," she eventually pronounced. "Dry yourself off. Quickly." Amy obeyed, shaking the droplets of water from her limbs, and rubbing herself down. Katya kept speeding her up, and when she was satisfied, Amy's long hair was still dripping. Katya seemed content. Then, the chains were re-applied. First the collar with leash. Then the manacles at her wrists, pulled behind her tighter than before, so there was a mere few inches slack. Then ankles, with a foot and a half's movement room. Katya kept producing more chains. She looped a coil above and below Amy's breasts, squeezing them slightly. Another coil around her slim waist. Worst of all, she brought back the nipple clamps. Amy's nipples were already hard from the cold water, and again she cried out with agony as she were attached, clamped down mercilessly on her sore nipples. Finally, Katya pulled out a white gown, which she draped over Amy's body, tying it shut around the waist. It could not cover anything at all - her hands bound as they were, she could not fit her arms into the holes, and the gown was only tied loosely. It gave her the appearance of being more than naked. It was an item of clothing that, flimsy as it was, could be torn from her in an even greater display of humiliation. On a distant level, she found herself liking that idea, and resolving to use it in a later book. She was led by Katya away from the luxurious bathroom, and back towards the throne room where she had spent an agonised night of bondage. She was trembling at the memory, fear beginning to rise within her of what might be done to her next. But also throbbing inside her was a thrill, a perverted and terrible thrill. The thought that Christina - or Salome - might kiss her again, touch her, caress her, bring her to the same heights of ecstacy that she had seen before... Amy could not believe these thoughts. That was how Flower would react. Desiring Salome as much as she was repulsed by her. Become like Flower. That was the way to survive this. Become like Golden Flower. ---------- Salome was reclining on her throne, her luscious body - the exact double of her sister's - swathed in the slightest of sheer gowns, a long necklace around her neck, a blood red stone dangling between her voluptuous breasts. "My little Flower," she purred. "Feeling refreshed?" "Mistress Salome," she said, not knowing what else to say. She would not betray Taniella. She could not betray Taniella. But what if she were tortured again, left to hang as se had been before? Worse, what if she were kissed again, caressed, touched... In one smooth motion, Salome's guard pulled the gown from Flower's freshly washed body, leaving her utterly open and exposed before the evil queen. Blushing, she tried to bow her head, to avoid the dominant and lustful look in Salome's eyes, but the guard held her head up. Slowly, Salome very deliberately ran her eyes all across the bound woman's athletic body, enjoying Flower's discomfort and shame. To appear so humiliatingly naked before someone so evil, so much the image of the woman she loved and adored.... "Kneel," Salome ordered. Flower tried to obey, her movements awkward in her bondage, but the guard roughly pushed her down, forcing her to her knees. "Spread your knees," Salome ordered. Flower obeyed, shamefully. "Wider." "Wider." "Wider." Tears of humiliation rose within the poor girl's eyes. Her thigh muscles burned with the strain of maintaining that position, sitting high on her heels, her legs spread as wide open as they could, vulnerable to Salome's piercing and lewd gaze, her body wide open for the taking. She began to tremble. "Beg me for mercy." "Please," Flower sobbed, instantly. "Mercy, Mistress. Please... I'll do anything." "Really?" Salome said, smiling. "Tell me what you will do." "I will..." the pretty and helpless prisoner began. "I will worship you, obey you, kiss your feet..." "Will you lick me? Pleasure me? Fuck me as you did my sister?" Flower flinched. The reference to Taniella... to her true love. Taniella would never speak so crudely. Salome nodded, and the guard suddenly walked around in front of Flower. She had discarded her light gown, and now wore only her slippers and a belt strapped around her waist. Attached to the belt, on a leather strap running under her legs, was a long, hard phallus, at least nine inches in length, thick and round. Flower eyed it. "Kiss it," Salome ordered. The helpless girl hesitated. "You had better kiss it," the usurper advised. "Lick it, take it inside you. Make it as wet as you can, because in a moment, it will be inside a very different hole, and the more lubricated it will be, the better." Flower could only stare at her. ------ "No!" Amy screamed, at the realisation of what would be done to her. "No! Christina, please, no! You can't!" "You have twenty heartbeats, my little Flower. Kiss it as much as you can." Terrified, her heart pounding, Amy opened her mouth, and accepted the strap-on into her. She gagged as it was thrust to the back of her throat, but she licked it and sucked at it as hard as possible, desperate to get some lubrication onto it. Her mouth was suddenly dry. Amy was still shaking when Katya withdrew the dildo and walked around behind her. Incoherently, she babbled to Christina, praying for some mercy. The fantasy had ended now. This was not just an exercise in humiliation. This was rape, plain and simple. She was paralysed by the feel of Katya's hands on her back, and then one her bound wrists. So terrified was she, that she did not at first notice that her hands had been freed. Oh, thank God! she thought a moment later. Just a joke. Katya pushed her forward, so that she fell onto her front. With her newly released hands, she tried to push herself up, but Christina stepped up from her couch and stepped on Amy's hands. She was only wearing slippers, and there was not enough pressure to hurt, but enough to keep her down. Christina bent down, picked up the end of Amy's leash, and pulled the helpless writer's head upwards, so that she could not help but stare into her captor's face. "Please," Amy sobbed. "Please... don't do this!" "Mercy?" Christina said, in her Salome voice. "From me, little Flower? I promised to degrade you utterly, remember? I promised to make you mine in every conceivable way. This will destroy the last vestiges of your pride, your dignity, your freedom. After this act is done, you will be mine, totally. "And I want you to keep looking into my eyes as it is done, so that you know who it is who is responsible for this." "No..." Amy sobbed. "No..." Then, she felt Katya roughly force the end of the strap-on into her virgin arse, and she screamed, a high-pitched and anguished sound she had never imagined could come from any human being. ------- Flower screamed until her throat was sore, and even then she continued to scream, dry rasping at the back of her throat. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. Her pleas for mercy had been ignored, as her screams were likewise. She could not move her head, and she dare not close her eyes. She was trapped there, staring up into the cruel and terrible eyes of Mistress Salome, the same eyes that she had once dreamed would look upon her with love from Taniella. But it was not to be, and now it never was to be, for she knew what Salome had said was true. From this point on, she was utterly and irrevocably a slave. Salome had broken her. She would do anything to avoid this happening to her again. She would give up all that she had, betray all that she once knew, knowing nothing but her own slavery and humiliation. The pain of that realisation was almost - almost - as bad as the agony of her rape. -------- Amy heard a hard grunt in her ear, signifying that her ordeal had ended. She felt Katya's weight lift from her back, and the rough thrusting end, leaving a sharp and agonising pain in her violated body. She was still staring up at Christina, although her vision was blurred by her tears. "Do you have anything to say to me, little Flower?" she asked. "I am yours, Mistress," she rasped. "Yes," she said, smiling. "You are." She stepped back from Amy's hands, and took her seat back on her throne. With a regal air, she extended one foot. Wordlessly, without needing to be told, amy crawled forward, and extended her dry tongue with which to kiss and caress her Mistress. It did not matter to her now whether she was Amy Tan, writer, submitting before Christina Hollis; or whether she was Golden Flower, slave and prisoner, before Salome, queen and monster. Amy and Golden Flower had become one within her now, as had Tarilanna and Star Lily and all her other heroines. Every scene she had ever written had become one in this moment, where she herself had become a slave. "Stand up," Christina ordered after a while, and Amy obeyed, somewhat painfully. She did not resist as Katya pulled her arms above her head, and chained them there, leaving the poor girl helpless before whatever new torment could be devised for her. Christina stepped forward. Amy closed her eyes, tensing herself for some new blow, some torture, pain, or something. She screamed at the lightest touch on her thigh, just above the chains at her knee. Christina continued to caress her idly, drawing circles on Amy's soft and tender skin. At first, it was merely a light itch, a gentle tickling, but as Christina continued, moving her fingers upwards and downwards, inside Amy's legs, up and over her waist, down towards her groin, the sensation became more intense, more exciting... Christina leaned forward and kissed her helpless prisoner, standing so that only their lips touched, her body so near and yet so far from Amy's own. Yearning to be touched, Amy tried to strain herself forward. "Do you love me?" she asked, huskily. "Yes, Mistress," Amy replied. "Do you adore me?" "Yes, Mistress." "Will you obey me utterly, in all things?" "Yes, Mistress," Amy whispered, through unshed tears. "Good," Christina said, sitting back down, crossing her legs and placing her hands on her lap. "This is what's going to happen, Amy." That as the first time she had usde Amy's real name since this whole ordeal had begun. Or was it her real name? Was Amy Tan any more real than Golden Flower or Star Lily or Chase or Miria? They were all slaves, all helpless prisoners of beautiful, powerful, cruel women. "You are going to live here, with me, as my slave. I'll get a document drafted up to make me your agent. All the business side of your work is going to be done by me. You'll just write. I think you have enough ideas to finish your book now?" Amy nodded. "You've got a great talent. I'll help nurture that, be your... ah... inspiration. You'll be fed, clothed..." She paused. "When necessary. You'll live here, want for nothing. All you have to do is write, and serve me. Katya and I will take care of everything else. "A room's been provided for you. Your laptop's been set up... modified slightly so you can't e-mail out. I don't think you would, but just to stop you calling for help. You won't, will you?" "No, Mistress." And she wouldn't. What would she do out there? She was a prisoner there, too. "Good." Katya began to take her down. "Any questions?" Amy looked down at herself, naked save for her chains, collar and manacles. "May I have some clothes, Mistress?" "No," Christina said sharply. "Anything else?" "May I..." Amy wasn't sure how to ask that. "Mistress, may I...?" "No," she replied again. "I'll let you come when you finish the book. Think of that as an incentive. If I find you've pleasured yourself before I give permission..." Chrstina smiled. "I'll let Katya rape you again." Amy paled, almost shaking, suddenly nauseous. No, not that again. No... "Anything else?" There was a pause, and Christina gave a signal. Katya led the faltering and dizzy young woman from the room, Amy rattling with each step. Just when they got to the door, Amy paused, and turned back. "Mistress?" she said. -------- Flower looked at the cruel queen, her body burning from her torture, tears filling her lovely eyes. "I love you, Mistress Salome," she said, loathing herself for saying so, but unable to stop the feeling inside her. -------- Amy sat down at the desk provided for her, her violated arse burning as she did so. Her laptop was on, opened to the last chapter of A FlowerChained. She looked at the final words she had written. She knew who the evil queen was now. She knew why Salome wanted to break her, and why Flower would respond to that torture in the way she would. And she knew how the book would end. The only way it could. The end of her leather leash dropped down in front of her, brushing against her throbbing cunt, idly caressing her swollen clit. Amy watched to sob. She was Golden Flower now, and all of the others. Every heroine she would ever write again, would be her. She would spend the rest of her life every bit as much of a slave as they would. Weeping, she stretched, and began to write. The End
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