Gemma

by Charles Graham

  Gemma shook her head despairingly, "I didn't know...I didn't think..." she mumbled bitterly, then raised her eyes to stare in horror at her Mistress as the woman said, "No, you didn't did you, slavegirl. And now, you are going to have to pay for your error!"

  Gemma's mouth opened, then closed as the blonde snapped, "Not a word, slavegirl. Not one, or the punishment you have already earned yourself will increase! Come on. Out of there."

  As she stumbled out of the lift, Gemma's eyes filled with an awful dread and her stomach began to churn as the enormity of what she had done hit home. She had tried to escape and failed and knew she was in the most terrible trouble!

  Roxwell seized her elbows in a painful grip and Gemma winced not daring to protest as she was marched back along the corridor she had run down with such high hopes only minutes earlier. Her Mistress flung open a door and Roxwell pushed her into a room Gemma had not seen before. Smaller than her own cell, it was completely bare....except for a heavy chain dangling from a pulley in the centre of the ceiling, its other end made fast to an iron cleat bolted to the wall!

  "Stand still, slave. Feet together," Roxwell's tone brooked no argument and Gemma's fears intensified as her ankles were clipped together. Deprived of her ability to move, she stood passively as her wrist cuffs were released, her arms brought together in front of her body and the cuffs refastened.

  "Open your mouth," her Mistress stood in front of her, a thick cylinder of leather on a broad strap in her hands.

  Gemma gulped, her eyes fixed pleadingly on the blonde's face, then slowly allowed her lips to part as she read the steely determination in her captor's face.

  The gag sank deep into Gemma's mouth, then deeper still as she was forced to encompass the whole massive length and girth and she swayed on her bound feet and would have fallen, but for Roxwell's steadying arms as her Mistress tugged the buckling strap cruelly tight.

  Her face covered from nose to chin by the strap and with her cheeks bulging from the thick cylinder, Gemma could barely whimper, let alone speak and panted for breath through her nose as she was silenced.

  The blonde nodded in satisfaction, then reached up and pulled the dangling chain down to Gemma's wrists and clipped it firmly to her cuffs, before standing back with a cruel smile playing about her lips.

  Roxwell released his grip on Gemma and moved to the iron cleat, freeing the chain and then tugging on it and as he tugged, the chain rattled through the pulley high above Gemma and her arms began to rise. Gemma would have like to have fought, but was sensible enough to realise that she could not possibly win. She was bound at hand and foot, alone against two of them and Roxwell was far stronger. Any resistance she could put up would be completely futile and would probably get her punished. Or so Gemma reasoned.

  Her arms rose past her breasts, then past her shoulders, then higher still and Gemma forgot all about her reasoning as the pull continued and her arms stretched high above her head. Her eyes sought frantically for some way to escape and muffled squeals of panic leaked past her gag, but by then it was much too late and her fingers clawed at the chain as she was forced to rise onto the balls of her feet, her body drawn up to its full extent, every muscle tense and even her head trapped between her upraised arms!

  She couldn't move an inch and her eyes bulged with a terrible knowledge as her two Masters moved to stand in front of her and flexed their riding crops before her gag-distorted face.

  "You have been a very silly slavegirl," her Mistress's eyes glittered with excitement as she chided the helpless brunette, "And silly little slaves get themselves punished."

  "Indeed they do," Roxwell agreed cheerfully, "As you are about to find out. You have been disobedient and for that, you will receive six strokes of the crop. For attempting to escape, six more. Plus six more for each of the glasses you caused me to drop. And a final six for failing to remain silent while you were being caressed by your Masters. A total of thirty strokes, slavegirl," he paused and gazed hard into Gemma's terrified face, "Think yourself lucky slave," he hissed, "Had you not been a new and untrained slave, your punishment would have been much more severe."

  Gemma trembled wildly, the smooth flesh of her belly and breasts fluttering as she heard the sentence of her Masters and she squealed muffled pleas into her gag, begging for mercy, promising never to disobey again, to be the slave they wished her to be, anything they desired if only they didn't whip her.

  It made absolutely no impression on the two dominants and tears poured down Gemma's face as they took up their positions, Roxwell behind and her Mistress in front.

  The swish of Roxwell's crop gave Gemma a fraction of a second's warning, but not nearly enough for her to prepare herself and as the first of many stinging red stripes blazed its way across her tensioned buttocks, she screamed into her gag, her bottom erupting with heat. Immediately, her Mistress placed a shrewd cut across the tops of Gemma's thighs and the helpless girl shrieked in torment, her flesh blooming a vivid scarlet. Stretched by her bonds and quite unable to avoid the searing cuts of her Master's crops, Gemma screamed and wept as a mesh of reddened lines painted her thighs and buttocks. Again and again she begged for mercy and to be permitted to submit as their slave, certain that she could take no more of their merciless punishment...and time and again found that she was wrong! Not only could she take more, but she had to, for her Masters had no intention of allowing her to avoid what they considered her just deserts.

  Thirty strokes she had earned and thirty strokes her flinching, burning, striped body received!

  Long before the final stroke landed, the lesson had been well and truly learned by Gemma and she understood all too clearly the rules by which she was to be forced to live and the penalties that disobedience would bring down on her.

  She hung sobbing in her bonds as her Masters lowered their crops for the final time and walked from the room, leaving her to reflect on her errors as the pain of her punishment gradually subsided to a dull throbbing and her tears dried on her face. Still stretched in her bondage, she could not even rub her smarting flesh and her very helplessness reinforced the lesson that she had no choice but to submit. She had made her gesture of defiance and it had led her to this. No way would she ever dare repeat the experiment.

  Hours later, when her Masters returned to release her from her bondage, Gemma fell to the floor, her limbs and joints racked with aches and the tingling of returning circulation, then forced her stiff body to rise as she was cuffed and taken back to her own cell. Exhausted, she fell on the bed and went out like a light, too tired even to examine the fading pink stripes that patterned her buttocks and thighs like latticework.

  "You just don't learn, do you slavegirl. That's the third stripe you've earned yourself today for trying to evade a Master's touch."

  Gemma's training was continuing apace, the task made much easier for her Masters by Gemma's vivid recollection of her punishment of the previous day. Even with that in her mind, Gemma was still having trouble holding position when one of her Masters caressed her breasts or sex and even though they realised her problem, she still received a crop each time she moved. Three so far that day!

  "We'll try that again, slavegirl and this time, don't move! We are beginning to lose patience with you..."

  The implied threat sent a shiver through Gemma's displayed body and she steeled herself for the touch of the blonde's fingers, acutely aware that Roxwell and his crop hovered just behind her, ready to strike if she failed again.

  A soft palm cupped her right breast and cool fingers twirled the nipple, sending delicious tremors racing through her posed nudity and Gemma juddered involuntarily but managed to force herself not to pull back.

  "Better," the woman commented, "Now we will try a little more," and Gemma gasped as both her nipples were captured.

  "Very good, slavegirl. No, keep quite still," and Gemma bit her lip, trying desperately to control the arousal spreading outwards from her hardening nipples...and failing! Slow coils of warmth circled in her
belly as the arousal continued and a soft whimper came from her throat as her breasts swelled to the gentle stimulation.

  "Excellent. That will do for now," and Gemma trembled with frustration as the hands were taken from her body.

  Dammit, she thought to herself, it wasn't fair to turn her on like that and not finish the job! Then her face flushed as she realised the implications of her thoughts. Just a few days before she would have been horrified at the idea of a woman, a stranger, caressing her breasts, but now she was angry because she hadn't been made to climax! It was a salutary demonstration of the effectiveness of the training she was being given and she gulped to the realisation that she was becoming the slavegirl she had vowed never to be. The trouble was that she was starting to like it! Not the strict discipline and the punishment, of course, but the frequent stimulation and the increasing responsiveness of her body. Even, though she would never admit it, the bondage and the helplessness it imposed upon her. Tied up and defenceless, she had no control and couldn't be blamed even by herself, if she got carried away by the strength of the passions she was forced to display.

  "Kneel up straight, slavegirl. I want to cuff your ankles."

  Obediently, Gemma straightened and brought her feet together and felt her ankles clipped side by side.

  "Squat on your heels, knees spread. Good."

  Her arms were pulled out behind her and attached to her ankle cuffs, securing her and angling her backwards so that she got an unrestricted view of her own breasts and the wide "V" of her thighs, topped with her curly bush of dark pubic hair.

  "Open your mouth."

  Expecting a normal leather gag, she was taken by surprise when a ring of steel was pressed between her jaws and wedged behind her teeth, its thin strap stretching the corners of her mouth. It held her mouth wide open and though she shook her head, she couldn't dislodge it or close her jaws.

  She didn't understand what it was for...until Roxwell moved to stand in front of her and unzipped his trousers! His erection sprang free, directly on a level with Gemma's face and her face glowed crimson as she realised what he required of her. She had never, ever, pleasured a man in that way, not even Mike and she shook her head resolutely. She absolutely would not do it.

  To her horror, she felt a crop tap her right buttock and twisted her head up and back.

  Her Mistress stared down at her, eyes alight with malicious delight. "Oh yes you will, slavegirl," she chuckled, "One way or the other," and she flexed her riding crop and sent it whistling through the air.

  Roxwell's strong hands gripped Gemma's head as she groaned as her forced her to turn back to face him, the ring behind her teeth holding her mouth in a stretched "O"

  Unable to prevent it, Gemma spluttered as his maleness entered her mouth, his hands clamped around her head and stopping from drawing back. His scent filled her nostrils, a mixture of musk and sweat which was actually not unpleasant, but Gemma was mortified and continued to struggle as best she could.

  "Hhuunnghh!" the muffled cry was torn from Gemma's throat as a cruelly hard cut from her Mistress's crop sent blistering heat spearing into her buttocks. Far worse, though, was Gemma's utter despair as her instinctive lunge forward and away from the pain, forced Roxwell's iron hard erection deeper into her mouth, her soft lips rasping against the coarse curls of his pubic hair and her cheeks bulging shamefully!

  "Now, you will learn how to please a Master with your mouth, slavegirl," Roxwell grated, "Lick and suck me until I come."

  Gemma tried to resist and held out as long as she could, but she was hopelessly bound, her naked buttocks an easy target for her Mistress's whip and, eventually, she was forced to submit.

  Tears running down her cheeks, she complied with Roxwell's demands, her tongue lapping at his embedded shaft, squeezing and sucking him with her lips, her face glowing as red as her whipped bottom.

  Inexpert though she was Gemma's efforts had the desired effect and she shuddered miserably as he grew larger within her mouth until she feared she would choke. Then he came and Gemma felt her mouth and throat fill with hot, salty spend and she gulped and swallowed desperately as his release pulsed and jetted.

  Gemma was absolutely devastated, her humiliation was complete as she heard her Mistress's mocking laughter and knew the blonde had witnessed and enjoyed her shame.

  Roxwell slide from her mouth and Gemma thrust her head down, horrified by what she had been forced to do, but knowing that she could easily be made to repeat her actions if Masters so required.

  To her astonishment, she felt Roxwell lift her head and smile at her, "That was very enjoyable, slavegirl. With practice, you could give exquisite pleasure to your Masters."

  She felt an absurd rush of pride as she heard his compliment, but could not answer him because of her gag and had to be content with nodding her head, blushing as she did so.

  "And not only Masters," he went on, "Mistresses, too, can be pleasured in similar ways, as you will no doubt come to learn."

  Gemma's flush brightened. She had not even considered that.

  From behind her, she heard her Mistress's voice, "Quite right. And learn you will when I have you in my slave quarters, girl. Or else!"

  Gemma surrendered to the inevitable. Twisting around awkwardly, she lifted her face to the elegant blonde who stood over her and nodded her head twice, quite distinctly!

  Her action and the promise of submission it held, brought a great grin of pleasure from the blonde and Gemma felt a hot swirl of desire ripple her belly in anticipation of the time when she would be forced to make good on her promise or suffer the consequences of failure.

  CHAPTER 6

  Warm summer sunshine smiled benevolently down upon Gemma's naked body, its rays playing across the curves and hollows of her legs and back as she soaked up the afternoon heat. She rolled over and sat up, then stretched luxuriously, her breasts tautening as her arms reached skywards, the steel rings at her wrists, ankles and neck glittering and twinkling as she moved. A gentle clinking of chain drew her eyes down to her left ankle and she gave a little sigh of resignation as she saw the padlock and traced the looped chain across the smooth tiles of the pool side patio to its anchor point, a thick steel ring set under a tile in the patio near the steps down to the pool. A wry smile curved her lips. She hadn't really expected to find herself miraculously freed from her bondage, but a girl could always hope.

  She guessed it must be about three weeks since Roxwell had had her brought to his house, but she couldn't really be sure. There was no way to tell the passage of time in his underground slave quarters, but she had been trained for about a week, then a few days with Roxwell and her Mistress and this was about the fourth or fifth day she had been brought out to sunbathe, so her guess had to be about right. Not that it made any difference to her situation, Gemma realised, it was just nice to know.

  She wiped a thin film of perspiration off her brow and eyed the pool. The water looked blue and cool and inviting and she rose to her feet, unaware that the fluid gracefulness of her movements and the sensual undulation of her naked hips and bottom as she walked to the steps were a tribute to the strict training she had received.

  Unknown to Gemma as she lowered herself into the pool and began to splash water over her breasts and belly, eyes watched her from inside the house. Eyes that gleamed with pleasure and anticipation as water cascaded in glistening rivulets from her lightly tanned flesh.

  Several days before, as Gemma stood posed and motionless, her body beautifully displayed before him, Roxwell had commented, "You look pale, slavegirl. What you need is some sun."

  Minutes later, her wrists snugly cuffed behind her back, Gemma had gulped nervously as her ankles were hobbled with a foot or so of chain and she was ordered from her cell. Along the corridor and into the lift she shuffled, her steps uncomfortably restricted by her hobble chain and acutely aware that Roxwell was behind her and ready to pounce if she even thought about trying to escape. Not that she would dare, after her last failed attem
pt, even if she were not so thoroughly handicapped.

  When the lift stopped, she shuffled laboriously along yet another long corridor, then waited passively as he unlocked a heavy door.

  Sunlight flooded in and Gemma licked her dry lips as she realised that she was going to be taken outside. Outside, but still in her bonds...and stark naked! She turned to Roxwell, a plea forming on her lips, but it died unspoken as she saw the riding crop in his strong hands. He gestured with the whippy crop and Gemma knew that she had no choice but to obey.

  She moved forward, hobble chain clinking and as her eyes adjusted to the sun's glare, felt a huge wave of relief flood through her body. In front of the wide tiled patio on which she stood, lay a large, kidney shaped swimming pool, its blue water reflecting the cloudless sky. Beyond that, a manicured green lawn stretched away for a hundred yards or more, dotted with clumps of shady trees and bushes. Best of all though, and the cause of Gemma's relief was the high brick wall surrounding the entire garden and conferring complete privacy.