Gemma

by Charles Graham

  "That's much better," the woman smiled, "Now I shall test how well this slave responds to a little mixture of pain and pleasure," and to Gemma's sheer terror, drew the five-bladed Devil's Palm from her belt and allowed its leather thongs to slide through her fingers.

  Frozen with horror, Gemma could not tear her eyes away from the swinging leather and her throat worked convulsively as she mumbled wordless pleas for mercy into the gag sealing her lips.

  Her whole body flinched as the woman let the thongs trail across her breasts and nipples, their touch both frightening and, at the same time, distinctly erotic! Not daring to admit the fact, even to herself, Gemma gulped nervously, trying hard to fight down the definite arousal she could not help but feel as the leather strands brushed her sensitive buds. They always had been sensitive, but after the way she had been aroused and made to climax by the other woman, they were even worse than usual and Gemma groaned to herself as, despite her fear of the Devil's Palm and her determination not to become aroused, her nipples began to stir and grow hard.

  The woman chuckled and Gemma felt her face redden as her unwanted response was noted, but there was just nothing she could do except close her eyes and blot out the cruel smile of her tormentor.

  A mistake, for the moment her eyes closed, her trainer gave a wristy flick and the strands of the Devil's Palm snapped down across Gemma's left thigh with stinging accuracy.

  Gemma's muffled squeal and her Mistress's rebuke came as one, "I didn't tell you to close your eyes, slavegirl."

  Unable to protect herself, Gemma moaned in anguish as the leather returned to her nipples, teasing and toying with the delicate buds until they grew hard and rigid, standing erect atop her small breasts and sending jolts of arousal streaking through her helpless body with each pleasurable but frightening touch.

  Slowly, cruelly slowly, the leather thongs inched their way lower, down and across Gemma's trembling belly and the spread brunette raised her eyes to stare into the glittering gaze of her tormentor.

  The woman nodded and Gemma's belly surged with a swirling, fiery heat as she understood that the woman was going to use her whip to arouse between Gemma's gaping thighs! The whip inched lower and a great gasp of despairing ecstasy was torn from the brunette's throat as the cruel thongs flicked gently at the moist and puffy flesh of her labia.

  The sensation was shattering and Gemma arched in her bonds as a malestrom of conflicting emotions crashed over her. Fear and horror there certainly were, but mixed with them were tremendous arousal, blazing need and an element of guilty pleasure, for Gemma suddenly realised that she was actually enjoying being the helpless victim of circumstances she could not control!

  The shock sent her brain reeling and she gasped into her gag as a second climax built towards its peak in her roiling belly.

  "Not yet, slavegirl," the harsh order was accompanied by a patch of smarting heat on her right thigh as the Devil's Palm landed, but even this was unable to hold back the inexorable growth of Gemma's orgasm, serving only to add fuel to the flames of lust consuming her.

  Twice more the leather cracked across Gemma's thighs, but her passion was beyond control and her belly began to pulse rythmically in the last seconds before her orgasm broke.

  Fingers seized her throbbing nipples, pinching sharply and drawing a shrill gasp of delicious pain from her, the additional stimulation breaking down the last barrier.

  Gemma convulsed hugely, her belly pounding and shuddering as sprays of love juices jetted into her and she surrendered to the furious passions unleashed by her bondage and arousal at the hands of trainers skilled in the art of subjugation and wise in the ways of slavegirls and what could be extracted from them.

  Lost in her own world of passion and ecstasy, Gemma neither knew nor cared what her submission showed about her as she savoured every last drop of sexual pleasure to be had from her orgasm.

  Later, Gemma would remember and wonder how it could be that she had become a slave, but at that moment her physical lusts ruled her completely and she could no more control her responses than she could escape from the chains and leather which held her captive.

  As she returned to Earth from the sexual heights to which she had been transported, Gemma was confronted with cold, hard reality as she found that she was still securely bound and tightly gagged.

  Worse, the third member of her trainers, the man, was staring at her with a cold, speculative gleam in his eye. A gleam that told Gemma that her ordeal was not yet over.

  Forced to endure his long, slow, humiliatingly detailed inspection of her nude body, Gemma's face flamed a bright, embarrassed scarlet and her limbs tensed vainly against her bonds in her efforts to hide her shame at the all too obvious evidence of her surrenders to the two female trainers.

  His eyes lingered briefly at her swollen nipples, then tracked slowly down across her rounded, sweat-streaked belly and Gemma whimpered softly into her gag as he bent his knees and subjected the engorged lips of her sex to a minute examination, his low chuckle adding to her misery as he gazed at the silvery beads of love juices bedewing her thighs and dark pubic hair.

  An excellent job of preparation, ladies," he said, smiling up at his companions, "I feel sure that your efforts will make my task a simple one," and he lowered his head once more.

  Staring down at the top of his sleek black head, Gemma's eyes bulged with the sudden knowledge of what was about to be done to her and the horrifying realisation that she could do nothing to prevent it.

  His head moved forward and Gemma screamed in anguish as his lips and tongue found the most intimate and sensitive recesses of her defenceless sex, sending her hurtling into a whirling vortex of devastating arousal. The incredible sensations, coupled with her inability to move and the awful fact of her complete vulnerability to a man who held such absolute power over her, worked together to overwhelm Gemma's feeble resistance and her body writhed and plunged and bucked within the strict confines of her ruthless bondage until her entire shuddering form was bathed in sweat and her muffled screams and moans filled the cell.

  Almost at her peak, she sobbed in disbelief and loss as the man sat back on his heels and stared deep into her frantic eyes, "Slavegirls like you are not permitted to control the responses of their body," he told her cruelly, "That is for their Masters to decide. You do understand that, don't you, slavegirl?" and he sat calmly waiting for Gemma to agree.

  Shuddering in her intense need, Gemma longed to deny his words and prove to him that she still retained control of her own body and destiny ... but her belly throbbed and seethed with furious heat and she knew that she must, simply must,release the climax boiling within her.

  With a choking sob, Gemma nodded her head, delivering herself helplessly into the power of her Masters!

  "Very good, slavegirl," he said mockingly, "Then you may climax as the slave you are," and his lips returned to Gemma's trembling body, nuzzling into the slick, wet heat between her thighs, his tongue licking up and down the length of her parted sex and his lips capturing and tugging gently at the hard, protruding numb of her clitoris as she screamed in ecstatic anguish.

  Her climax burst upon her like a bomb as the two women bent towards her and their warm, wet mouths fastened greedily on her outthrust breasts, lips and teeth sucking and nipping exquisitely at her rigid nipples, the added stimulation sending Gemma plunging over the precipice of her orgasm.

  Far beyond control, Gemma's belly pulsed and shuddered and bucked as she surrendered unconditionally to the blazing passion forced upon her and before the watching eyes of her captors displayed the depth and extent of her sexual subjugation to their implacable will. Spasm after spasm racked her spreadeagled body and tears of shame and despair and unbearable pleasure poured down her gagged cheeks as Gemma recognised her defeat in the cruel grins of her watchers and knew that her body's betrayal of her condemned her to bondage and servitude for as long as her Masters chose to exert their absolute authority over her.

  An authority which wou
ld and did, increase day by say as Gemma was trained and punished and rewarded until the obedience became almost second nature to her and her thoughts of escape and revenge grew less and less frequent as she came to the unwelcome realisation that there was no way out of her dilemma.

  Her only consolation was that, so far at least, she had not actually been taken, but even that small comfort was overshadowed by the certainty that she would be!

  By Roxwell, who would insist on getting full value for the money he had invested.

  CHAPTER 4

  Gemma stood motionless in the pose of a slavegirl's submission she had been taught so well, her back slightly arched and legs spread to display her breasts and belly, wrists tightly clasped at the small of her back and her head lowered.

  She was neither bound nor gagged, but dared not break her position or make a sound, for she was in the presence of her trainers and was acutely conscious that the smallest breach of discipline on her part would bring forth instant retribution in the form of stinging lashes from the Devil's Palms hanging from the belts of her three watchers.

  Her downcast eyes focused on the rapid rise and fall of her own naked breasts, but Gemma had been held prisoner long enough to no longer feel embarrassment at her enforced nudity and was only relieved that she had managed to get through a whole training session without incurring the displeasure of her captors and the punishment that invariably accompanied their displeasure.

  The taller of her two female captors walked behind her, a broad shiny strap in her fist and Gemma winced as the leather was buckled tightly around her wrists, confining her hands behind her.

  "Look up, slavegirl. See the nice new present we have for you.."

  Obeying the order, Gemma bit back a gasp of dismay as her eyes fastened on the "present" laid out across her male trainer's arm. Polished black leather and shining steel glittered in the lights and she gulped nervously at what appeared to be a long, tapering tube of leather, wide at one end, but narrowing to a small bag at the other, with a heavy steel ring inset at the very tip. A line of much smaller steel rings ran up each edge of the V-shaped opening and through these, black leather lacing criss-crossed from top to bottom, while at the top edge, two long buckled straps were firmly stitched.

  Gemma had never seen anything like it in her life, but knew instinctively that, whatever it was, she was not going to enjoy it!

  Not that her enjoyment, or otherwise, would make the slightest difference to her trainers.

  So it proved, for, as the shorter woman took unconcealed delight in explaining to Gemma that the tube was called a singe glove and was designed to clamp Gemma's arms rigidly behind her, the other two trainers took the device behind the brunette's back and began to work the bag end over Gemma's clasped fingers.

  Knowing that any resistance would be both futile and punished, Gemma allowed her wrists to be lifted away from her spine and felt the leather smoothed over her hands and it was only as the bag tightened that Gemma realised that she could no longer unclasp her fingers. Her puzzlement and anxiety grew as the single glove was worked up her forearms and over her elbows to a point near her shoulder blades, but she still failed to comprehend the true nature of the device, even when the long attached straps were drawn over her shoulders, crossed between her breasts, down and under her arms and clipped back to the rear of the single glove.

  The truth only began to dawn on Gemma when she felt the laces begin to tighten...and by then, it was far too late!

  Inch by inch, ring by ring, the remorseless tightening began to clamp Gemma's wrists, then her forearms together and as the tension increased, so did her horror, until she could keep silent no longer.

  "Ooooh! Oh, stop, Masters, please stop. It's tight!"

  "It's meant to be! Now shut up slavegirl or you'll be gagged and punished!"

  Gemma gaped at the woman who she had always thought of as the softest and most sympathetic of her captors and her belly quivered with a sudden fear as the woman drew her Devil's Palm and flicked it delicately across Gemma's defenceless breasts. The warning was crystal clear and Gemma shuddered in despair as she realised that her hopes were groundless. None of her trainers were in the least bit sympathetic to her situation and she could expect no mercy whatsoever if she disobeyed!

  Clenching her teeth together to prevent the smallest sound escaping, Gemma strained her shoulders back as the laces continued their inexorable tightening. Her elbows squeezed closer and closer and her brain reeled as they touched and then welded together as her arms formed a single, pained column. Behind her, the man checked the tension of each lacing and tied the final knot, sealing Gemma's arms into their leather sheath. With his companion, her walked around in front of Gemma and watched as the woman pulled each of the buckled straps cruelly tight, holding the single glove securely in place and eliminating even the faintest hope of Gemma somehow being able to slip the leather down her arms.

  "Excellent! It looks good on her."

  "Yes. Let's see you get out of that slavegirl.""Does good things for her breasts, too. Just look at the way they jut out."

  "That should add to her appeal. Make them more sensitive too."

  As her captors smiled and discussed their uncomfortable bondage of her, Gemma stared wide eyed from one to the other, her misery deepening as she saw no signs of compassion in their cruel faces. The mention of her breasts sent her eyes downwards and she gave a soft whimper as she saw that they were quite correct. The tension of the single glove forced her shoulders back and combined with the tightness of the straps beneath her breasts to left and project the twin mounds into shameful prominence. So much so that her coffee brown nipples jutted like acorns and she found to her horror that even when she wriggled her shoulder her tautened breasts barely quivered!

  "Stand still, slavegirl."

  The waspish command froze Gemma into immobility.

  "Don't move! We'll be back for you shortly," and the door banged shut behind the trio.

  Alone with her thoughts, and her bondage, Gemma stood as she had been placed, the unremitting tension in her arms uncomfortable but bearable and serving to remind her at every moment of her lowly place in her captors' scheme of things. Escape was completely out of the question, her tightly clasped leather sheathed fingers could not possibly operated a door handle, even if it was not locked. In any case, she was in an underground complex, beneath, she assumed, Roxwell's house and had no idea where she was or which was to run even if she did manage, by some miracle to get to the surface!

  Her chances were one in a million and if she tried to escape and failed...the consequences of that didn't bear thinking about!

  Time passed and Gemma's arms grew stiffer and stiffer as she tried to decide whether to risk her trainer's displeasure by disobeying their order. Very slowly and very carefully, listening intently for the first sound of their return, she began to wriggle her shoulders and tense her arms in their sheath. Gradually she became less cautious and began to pant as her efforts grew more forceful, then sank to her knees, her torso writhing as she exerted her full strength against the heavy leather cocooning her limbs.

  The leather gave not a fraction of an inch and Gemma mumbled curses under her breath as she remained helplessly encased despite every twist and wriggle and contortion she could think of.

  "Damn!" How the hell did Houdini ever get out of these damn things?"

  Silence was her only answer and Gemma shrugged her shoulders angrily as she gave up in frustration and resumed her position exactly as before.

  By the time her trainers reappeared, a chastened and depressed Gemma waited resignedly for their commands knowing full well that there was no way she could free herself without help and that there was no help to be had. Tied up as she was, there was no alternative for her but to do exactly as she was bid and hope that, sometime, somewhere, she would get the chance to get away.

  Before her resistance was broken entirely and she became a permanent and, Heaven forbid, willing slave!

  Without a
word, Gemma's trainers walked over to where she stood and their fingers captured her nipples and stroked her labia, sending irresistible arousal crashing through her body before she had a chance to prepare herself. The breath burst from her lungs in a great gasp of helpless desire and her body writhed against their hands as their arrogant plundering of her nudity reinforced her sense of submission with a burning desire to be made to climax as the bound captive she was.

  Gemma's wishes, however, were not to be granted, for all too soon the gasping, madly responding brunette their hands were taken from her body, to leave her moaning in loss and furiously aroused.

  Strong hands seized her elbows, "Forward, slavegirl," and Gemma was propelled from her cell, along a corridor and into a lift. As it purred upwards, Gemma broke her imposed silence, daring to risk punishment as a thousand questions tumbled through her brain.