Gemma

by Charles Graham

  "Over there," Roxwell nudged her arm, pointing and Gemma made her hobbled way across the tiles and towards the pool, her spirits rising in the warm sunshine as her surreptitious glances confirmed that the garden was empty apart from herself and Roxwell.

  "Stand still," the order brought Gemma to a halt and she immediately spread her legs as far as her hobble would permit, her spine hollowing as she thrust her shoulders back to display her body in the prescribed manner, well aware that a failure to do so would lead, inevitably, to a stinging cut from his crop.

  Roxwell chuckled, but made no other comment on her obedience and Gemma flushed as he ignored her and bent to a particular tile, identical to all the others in the patio apart from a tine circular opening in one corner. He inserted a square metal handle into the opening and gave it a half turn and to Gemma's surprise, the tile hinged upwards.

  "This is a standard fitment in each of your Masters' homes," he told her smilingly and to the brunette's complete astonishment, pulled out from the hole under the tile a length of steel chain with a padlock already clipped to the end.

  "It helps to ensure that slavegirls don't stray," he added and slipped the hasp of the padlock through the ring on Gemma's left ankle cuff and snapped it shut.

  "There now. Now need for this any more," and he unclipped the hobble chain, then reached up and released her wrists.

  Freed from her bonds, but still securely tethered by the chain to her ankle, Gemma's eyes opened wide as he produced a bottle of sun tan oil from his pocket.

  "Hold still, girl," he told her calmly. "Don't want you getting burned now do we," and a quiver of arousal rippled through Gemma as he poured oil into his cupped palm and coated his fingers with the slippery liquid.

  He began with her shoulders and back and she could not control the tremors which raced up and down her spine as his strong hands moved over her flesh, sliding easily as he coated her with a thin film of oil. The sensation was undeniably erotic and as his fingers slid lower, to the rounded swells of her buttocks, Gemma bit her lip, her eyes closing as the firm kneading of her bottom cheeks kindled a fierce heat in her belly and between her spread thighs. The oiling of the soft under curves of her buttocks and the backs of her legs did nothing to reduce the feelings and as he moved around in front of her and poured more oil into his palm, her eyes sprang open and she gulped nervously understanding that he was not going to be content with oiling only her back. Knowing too, that she would never be able to contain the roiling heat in her belly when his oil slippery fingers slid over her breasts and between her legs.

  "M...Master," she quavered, "I...I c..can't. If you...If you t..touch me, I...I'll come," and her face burned with embarrassed need as she confessed to her shameful, but quite irresistible desire.

  Roxwell gave a wolfish smile, but his eyes bored into hers with steely determination, "Yes," he agreed coolly, "I know. Just as I intend that you should, slavegirl," and his hands reached for her.

  Instinctively, Gemma took a pace backwards, her arms going to cover her breasts and groin in a reflex defensive action as his arrogant words sent her brain reeling.

  His face darkened and Gemma froze as he hissed, "One more step, slavegirl, just one more step or one more word and I'll teach you not to disobey your Master! Now get back here exactly as you were, or you'll regret it!" and he snatched up his crop and sent it whistling through the air.

  Somehow, in less than a second and with no conscious decision on her part, Gemma found herself back in position, her body perfectly displayed, her face filled with shocked anguish at her own weakness and instant surrender.

  Roxwell brandished his crop, "That's better. Now, keep still, unless you want me to crop you!"

  Gemma most certainly didn't and forced herself to remain absolutely still as he watched her intently for the smallest sign of disobedience.

  At last, he nodded brusquely and laid down his crop, but only to oil his hands and reach for Gemma once again.

  His fingers caressed her neck then slid lower, moving in slowly expanding circles to the smooth upper slopes of her small, firm breasts and Gemma's hands clenched at her sides as the delicious torment sensitised her flesh. Her breathing grew fast and erratic as his fingers slipped beneath her breasts, cupping the pale orbs and her eyes filled with helpless longing as Roxwell toyed with her, his fingers approaching, but never quite touching, the twin, tawny buds of her nipples.

  Denied the touch and the pleasure she craved, Gemma fought to remain still, her lips pressed tightly together to contain the frustrations she was made to endure as he exerted his power and authority over her, proving to her yet again that he was the Master and she only the obedient and submissive slavegirl.

  Gemma's belly fluttered wildly and an explosive grunt was forced from her nose as his hands tracked across the rounded plain of her stomach, oiling her and adding to her arousal at the same time as his fingers inched towards the spread entrance of her moistening sex. Despite her best efforts, she could not control the flaring heat his touch generated and her body began to bend forward from the waist as she gave in to the lusts coiling in her belly.

  Roxwell looked up, "You are a slavegirl being taught discipline," he told her evenly, "Resume your position and do not break it again."

  He did not need to elaborate on the consequences of disobedience and Gemma gave a muffled whimper of despair and intense desire as she fought to overcome her own needs and obey his command.

  Her arousal, already burning at fever pitch, burned hotter still as he reinforced his dominance and her subjugation by oiling her ribs and hips and thighs without ever once allowing his fingers to stray to the wet and seething core of her femininity, until Gemma's whole body quivered and shuddered helplessly to every cruelly gentle caress of her heated flesh.

  Under his ruthless discipline, knowing that she would be severely punished if she dared to move or speak. Gemma surrendered unconditionally to the storm of passion wreaking havoc in her over stimulated body, abdicating all control over her responses to the powerful Master who brought such wonderful, terrible ecstasy to her. She could not, dared not and did not wish to resist and as her brain gave up the unequal struggle, Gemma melted into a limbo of sheer physical rapture, her whole being given over to the joys of a submission she was forced to accept and embrace without reserve.

  Well used to the subjugation of sometimes recalcitrant females, Roxwell noted the change in Gemma and timed his order to perfection.

  "On your back, slave," he snapped, "Display position!"

  Lost in the depths of her passion, Gemma obeyed instantly, too far gone to even think of refusing. Throwing herself to the tiles, her hands clasped tightly beneath her arched spine, she drew her legs up and pressed the soles of her feet together, opening herself widely and offering her every curve and recess to the scrutiny of her Master!

  The eroticism of the pose and the all too obvious message of her submission that it signalled, sent Gemma's arousal another notch higher and she trembled in delicious fear of her own vulnerability and the certain knowledge that she had, by her action, delivered herself even deeper into the clutches of her Master. A Master who would not waste the opportunity!

  Roxwell stared down into her anxious face, "You have done well, slave and now you shall have your reward," and Gemma's body gave a convulsive jolt as he poured oil onto his palm and knelt beside her.

  His hands went to her upthrust breasts and Gemma squealed shrilly as his oil slick fingers captured her nipples, rubbing, squeezing and rolling the crinkled buds until they sprang erect, throbbing as if imbued with a life of their own and sending electric waves of arousal rippling outwards from their rigid peaks and down into her belly to add to the maelstrom churning deep inside her as she built inexorably towards a shattering climax.

  "Mmmmhh! Hhhmmmff! Fffmmffhh!" Gemma's moans from her nose built in volume and intensity as she raced towards her release and her body vibrated beneath Roxwell's hands as his skilled arousal overwhelmed her.

 
She could not hold back even for a moment as his left hand dived to her groin, his extended fingers driving deep into the hot, wet depths of her copiously lubricated sex and triggering an instant and mind numbingly powerful orgasm!

  Gemma's wild scream of ecstatic surrender rent the still air and her body arched up in a taut, straining bow, every muscle locked and her belly pulsing hugely as giant contractions sent floods of heated love juices spraying into her sex and over his deeply buried fingers as she came and came in uncontrollable spasms. Her eyes wide and staring, fixed on Roxwell's and he chuckled with pleasure and triumph as he saw the shocked understanding written in their depths. Gemma knew that she had climaxed as a true slavegirl....and knew that he knew it too!

  As Gemma's sweat streaked body slumped to the tiles in the aftermath of her tremendous orgasm, Roxwell stood and began to peel off his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers.

  "Stay exactly as you are," he warned, "You have had your pleasure and now I, as your Master, shall take mine!"

  On her back beneath the hot sun, her naked body tethered and still spread in the absolute exposure of the Display position, Gemma was in no position to resist as Roxwell's thin, but well muscled body pinned her to the ground and his thick, iron hard erection penetrated her, her moans of anguish and the futile writhing of her body beneath him only serving to inflame him and drive him on to greater exertions.

  Taken as the captive slavegirl she knew herself to be, Gemma wept as his powerful lunges speared deep into her belly, crushing her and forcing her to submit to him, her body responding with helpless heat as he slaked his lust with scant regard for her feelings.

  His hands clamped on her breasts, his fingers at her nipples and Gemma shrieked as her climax peaked and her internal muscles squeezed his maleness in a vice like grip as her belly began to pulse around him, Roxwell gave a deep groan and his erection jolted once, twice, three times and his seed jetted into Gemma's pounding belly, sending her hurtling into a second devastating orgasm as her love juices mixed with his in the bubbling cauldron of her belly.

  Locked together, Master and slavegirl panted and writhed in unison, until their mutual frenzy began to wane and Roxwell was able to get to his feet and begin to dress.

  He looked down at Gemma's huddled, sweat and oil stained body and gave a slow smile, "You are beginning to learn how to please a Master, slavegirl," he chuckled, "If you keep it up, I may be sorry that I sold you," he paused and his grin grew wider, "But then, my loss is The Consortium,s gain and it's not as if I won't be able to call on your services, it it, eh?"

  Gemma gazed up at him, her blood running cold at the reminder that she had other Masters, and Mistresses, to serve, but, before she could give expression to her fears, he checked his watch and added, "Forty minutes, slavegirl, then I'll come to take you back inside. Tomorrow, you can have an hour and we'll see how your tan comes along," and with a sketchy wave, he was gone!

  Exhausted, her mind numb, it was several minutes before Gemma recovered sufficiently to roll over and release her stiff arms from beneath her spine, groaning as pins and needles assailed her and it was only then that she realised that Roxwell meant to repeat her sunbathing....and her oiling....every day. It didn't take much thought on her part to work out what that would lead to and she coloured just a little as a hot glow ignited in her belly in response to the thought of feeling his hands sliding over her body again. Not to mention the inevitable conclusion.

  As she lay on the hot tiles, Gemma shrugged her shoulders mentally. She hadn't wanted to be a slave and certainly wouldn't be one out of choice...but, as she didn't have a choice, she'd simply have to put up with it and get as much pleasure as possible.

  With that almost comforting thought in her mind, she closed her eyes....

  The accuracy of her prediction was well and truly borne out, for, every afternoon, she was hobbled for the walk to the pool, tethered...and oiled by Roxwell. Which, as she had suspected, always ended with her being taken by him.

  Not that she objected, or that it would have made the slightest difference if she had, for his attitude towards her changed not one iota! He was the Master to her slavegirl and had no compunction about using his crop on her to ensure she obeyed...and she did!

  Four days, four oilings, four times she was taken...but at least her sun tan was improving and she rather liked having an all over tan.

  Splashing water over herself on the fifth day, Gemma didn't hear the soft soled shoes coming towards her across the patio and her first intimation that she was no longer alone came when a deep, harsh, half remembered voice grated, "Out slave and on your knees!"

  Gemma whirled around, dashing water from her eyes and stared aghast at the two men standing by the steps leading into the pool. One, the owner of the voice, was the giant who had acted as The Consortium's spokesman on the day she had been collared and fitted with the steel cuffs of her slavery, the other was a stranger to Gemma, a much smaller man with olive skin and jet black hair.

  "Out, slave!" the huge man repeated and he bent swiftly and seized the chain linking Gemma's left ankle to the anchorage point.

  Gemma panicked, suddenly shamefully aware of her nudity and made the twin mistakes of trying to run away, while at the same time bending low in the water to hide herself from their eyes.

  The big man shook his head in exasperation and gave the chain in his hand a mighty yank. Gemma's left leg was jerked from under her and she plunged below the surface, her mouth and eyes spluttering, threshing with her arms, she was dragged through the water like a hooked fish as the giant hauled her in hand over hand, as if she weighed nothing at all. It was a frightening experience, demonstrating his physical strength and as Gemma fought for breath on all fours in the shallows of the pool, her wet hair straggling over her face, she realised with horrifying clarity, that she couldn't possibly resist such overwhelming power.

  "You were ordered to kneel, slave. It would be unwise to test our patience further," the speaker was the dark haired man, the words spoken softly and with a vaugely French accent.

  Gemma lifted her bedraggled head and found herself gazing into two implacable faces, neither giving the least hint of compassion.

  She knew at once that the men meant big trouble for her and that her best hope was absolute obedience. She rose to her knees, straightened her spine and arched her body into the submission position, hoping against hope that the men would overlook her panicky reaction to their first order and not punish her for disobedience.

  The smaller man took a length of white nylon rope from his pocket, "Cross your wrists,slave," and moved behind her and Gemma winced as nylon looped around and over and between her wrists, drawing tight, but not uncomfortably so. She wondered why they didn't just use the steel cuffs already on her limbs? Surely that would be both easier and more secure, wouldn't it?

  She gave up wondering about it as the man walked around from behind her and invited her to test the security of his tie. Puzzled but obedient, Gemma gave a sharp tug at the ropes and instantly gave a pained grimace as the rope tightened and pinched her flesh.

  The big man grunted, "Good. Those knots get tighter if you struggle."

  "Yes, the more you fight, the more it pinches. Get the picture, slave?"

  Gemma didn't trust herself to speak and had not been given permission, so simply nodded her head glumly, her unhappy expression bringing a chuckle to the big man's lips.

  "Well, well. I see you've managed to learn something since we last met. You'd better hope that you've learned enough, because we're not as patient as old Roxwell," and his predatory grin told Gemma that she was going to have to be very, very careful... and very, very obedient!

  "On your feet, slave, we've got a long way to go tonight," the casual announcement brought a cold chill to Gemma's belly and she gulped worriedly, wondering where they meant to take her and what would lie in store for her.

  Her anxiety redoubled as the end of a second, much longer length of rope was knotted snugly about her thro
at and she had no choice but to follow as the chain to her ankle was released and the rope pressed into service as a leash to lead her back into the house. Into the house, but not however, to her familiar cell. Instead, she found herself in the main body of the house and was actually relieved when she was taken into an oak panelled study and saw Roxwell sitting in a comfortable leather armchair, a large glass of whisky in his hand.

  His greeting to her captors sent her spirits plummeting, "I see you found her, then. Good. Do you have time for a drink, or are you going straight off?" and she realised that he did not intend to accompany her.

  Heedless of the disapproving frowns which appeared on the faces of all three of her captors, Gemma summoned up all her remaining courage and made a direct appeal to Roxwell, "Please, Master," she begged softly, "Please don't let them take me. I beg you, Master, let me stay here and...and please you as your slavegirl," and she sank to her knees in supplication, more terrified of leaving with the other two than facing the wrath of Roxwell.

  Her desperate appeal, sincere as it was, proved to be a mistake and her wide brown eyes filled with anguished horror as Roxwell got to his feet, marched over to where she knelt and seized her jaw in his strong hand, "Be silent, slavegirl!" he commanded sternly, "How dare you defy three Masters! My friends are members of The Consortium and you will soon learn what it is to serve all members of our group, all your Masters in any way they choose! Surely you did not think that I could be persuaded...tricked...into taking your part against my friends! Have you not, even now, realised what you are? You are simply a slavegirl. A purchase. An acquisition. A joint investment by all members of The Consortium and as such, a joint asset, to be used jointly by an members who desire you!"