Gemma

by Charles Graham

  Gemma's eyes widened as her arousal built and her Mistress chuckled softly, knowing exactly what her touch was doing to her slave and knowing, too, that Gemma would not dare to move or protest. She had protested...once...but had soon been taught the error of her ways as Alicia had left her secured, fetched the Devil's Palm and proceeded to brand her defenceless body with a dozen stinging stripes as Gemma had screamed and twisted in vain efforts to avoid the punishment.

  That had been Gemma's first..and last..attempt to object and they both knew that she would never try again.

  Coated in a slippery mass of scented bubbles, Gemma rose and fell on her toes, the bells at her ringed breasts jingling musically as her Mistress took advantage of that knowledge to toy with her tender nipples and explore the soapy, slippery recesses of her sex, building her slavegirl's passion and savouring the submissive need so evident in her brown eyes.

  Gemma's fingers fluttered vainly, as if trying to escape, but she rose onto her toes, the better to part her thighs and give her Mistress access and the blonde chuckled again, only too well aware of what her slavegirl wanted.

  "Not yet, slavegirl," she whispered cruelly and the brunette squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she was forced to endure the lusts coiling in her belly while her hair was washed.

  "I want you looking your best tonight," Alicia told her and Gemma shivered, knowing that there was to be a party that evening, but not knowing what part she was going to play in it.

  She did not know for certain, but had an awful feeling that she would be central to whatever was going to happen...and quite unable to refuse!

  As powerful jets of water rinsed her hair and body, she shivered with anticipation, part fearful of the coming ordeal, but also aroused by the prospect.

  As her Mistress dried her with a large, fluffy towel, Gemma's belled nipples jiggled and Alicia smiled as thetinkling bells told of the slavegirl's desire.

  "Relax, slavegirl," Alicia said calmly, "It will be at least half an hour until my guests arrive," but then made her own order impossible to carry out as she leaned forward and planted a firm, wet kiss on each of Gemma's erect nipples.

  Instant heat surged through the captive brunette's belly and she gave a sharp gasp, her legs almost buckling beneath her as her lust soared and she gazed pleadingly at her Mistress, hoping against hope that the woman would take pity on her and give her the climax she longed for.

  Instead, to Gemma's frustration, her Mistress reached up, released her wrists, then immediately re-bound her arms behind her and took her to the bedroom where she dried and brushed her hair until it hung in a dark, shining sweep to her shoulders. Just as she finished, they both heard the lift doors open and were joined seconds later by Gemma's other Mistress, Lydia, a shoe box under her left arm.

  "Hi, Alicia. Good evening, slave."

  "Good evening, Mistress."

  "Well I've got them. Shall we try them straight away?"

  "Mmm, yes. I want to see how they look."

  "Right. Up you get, slave. We've got a present for you."

  Gemma rose to her feet worriedly. Lydia was in a very good mood and that usually meant she had thought of some new way to humiliate her slave.

  Lydia ripped the lid off the box and pulled out the contents and Gemma gaped uncomprehendingly at a gleaming pair of patent leather shoes....but shoes with heels higher than Gemma had ever seen in her life!

  Her Mistress held them up, turning them this way and that so that the lights reflected dazzlingly as she showed Gemma her new footwear.

  "Six inch heels, slavegirl. Specially made for you. And these ankle straps lock with the padlocks so that once they're on, they stay on, you see. Right, give me your foot."

  Obediently, Gemma raised her leg and allowed the shoe to be slid on, her eyes widening as she felt the height of the heel force her foot into an arch, almost putting her on tip toe.

  Lydia buckled the strap around Gemma's ankle and snapped the small padlock closed, "That's one. Now, give me your other foot."

  As her weight came on to her high heeled shod foot, Gemma tottered and almost fell, unused to the difference heels made to her balance, and was thankful to feel Alicia's arm steadying her.

  She shot her blonde Mistress a grateful smile, then gazed down as the second shoe was fitted and locked on.

  Lydia stood up, grinning, "They look really good, don't you think, Alicia?"

  Gemma stared down. Her Mistress was right, the shoes did look good. Good, and very, very sexy, making her legs seem longer and slimmer....but, already, Gemma could feel an ache starting in her calves, brought on by the stress of her impossibly high heels. What her legs would feel like after an hour or two, didn't bear thinking about, but, aches or no aches, there was no way she would be able to remove the shoes, no matter how uncomfortable she got!

  "I'm going to let go of your arm now, slavegirl. Stand up really straight, that should help you to balance."

  Gemma forced her shoulders back, holding herself as erect as she could and concentrated on not falling over as her Mistresses inspected her.

  "Yes, I like them. They make her taller and make her legs seem longer."

  "Keeps her on her toes. Literally! I love the way she has to tense her calves to keep her balance."

  "And they make her stand straight, which shows off her breasts."

  "Mmm. The men will really like that. They just love high heels on a slavegirl. No clothes, of course, just high heels!" Lydia's mocking laughter brought bright spots of colour to Gemma's cheeks, because she knew her Mistress was quite correct. Masters would enjoy the enforced tension her high heels imposed on her body and she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. Her belly quivered deliciously. She might not be able to do anything, but the men, her Masters, certainly could...and no doubt would!

  "Go into the lounge, slavegirl," Alicia's order broke into Gemma's erotic daydream, "We have to get ready for our guests."

  Concentrating intensely, Gemma made her slow, very careful way from the bedroom, teetering on her precipitous heels, aware of the growing ache in her calves, but strangely excited by the knowledge that in her heels and her nudity and her bondage, she presented a picture that exuded sexuality and would make her irresistible to her Mistresses' guests....

  Irresistible and available, for Gemma had no illusions about the men and women who would be at the party, or what their common interest would be.

  Her belly burned with a slow heat as her Mistresses ordered her to halt beside a low, sturdy coffee table with a thick glass top and her mind raced as she saw a shining steel pole terminating in a steel ring, rising some two feet above the glass at one end.

  "Sit on the table, slave, ankles crossed, facing the post," Lydia's voice was uncompromising and Gemma knew that she had best obey, unless she wanted to meet her Mistresses' guests with fresh whip marks emblazoned across her buttocks.

  The table's surface was cold and Gemma shivered as her flesh met the glass, but the momentary discomfort was instantly forgotten as she looked down at her crossed ankles. The glass on which she sat, was mirrored, reflecting perfectly every recess and crevice of her parted sex! The shock of seeing herself so shamefully exposed, was awful, but not as awful as the realisation, a split second later, that anyone who stood near the table would be treated to the same humiliatingly detailed exhibition of her!

  Horrified, Gemma turned to her Mistresses and her belly kicked powerfully as she saw that they both wore identical cruel smiles.

  "That's right, slavegirl. You're going to be the centrepiece of our little party. You'll give our guests something to look at while they're eating," Alicia said calmly and Gemma shivered wildly, the bells at her nipples betraying the mixture of horror and arousal she felt.

  "Until they decide to eat you, anyway," Lydia added spitefully and the shocked brunette gave a low moan of anguish, uncrossing her legs in preparation for climbing off the table.

  "Keep still, slave!" Alicia's harsh command cut through Gemma's moan like a knife,
freezing her in place, "One more sound or one more movement and you'll wish you'd never been born! I mean it, slave! Now get back in position!"

  Gemma's agonised face turned up to her Mistress, but found no trace of sympathy in the blonde's cold eyes and with a shudder of despair, resumed her shameful pose.

  "That's better. Now, not another word!" and the distraught brunette forced herself to keep still as the two dominants lashed her crossed ankles in place to the base of the post with tight black leather straps. Helpless, she leaned forward as a padlock was slipped through the ring on the front of her steel collar and snapped into the ring at the top of the post, holding her bent and unable to straighten and was powerless to resist as a short strap from the rear of her collar was attached to her wrist cuffs, holding her arms high up behind her shoulder blades in a double hammer lock.

  The bells at her ringed nipples jingled continuously as she tested her bondage and found herself utterly helpless and her brown eyes gazed wildly down at the reflected image of her defenceless body. She couldn't move but could see only too clearly her absolute vulnerability and availability to the touch of anyone who cared to arouse or torment her.

  Seconds later, she was unable even to protest or beg for mercy, for a huge, thick gag of leather was forced deep into her mouth, silencing her and preventing even token resistance on her part!

  Secured for the pleasure of her Mistresses and their guests, Gemma trembled wildly as the two women left her to go and change, her eyes seeking vainly for something, anything, to help her and her muscles tensing uselessly against her bonds in her efforts to escape.

  As she had feared, her struggles were fruitless and as the hum of the lift came to her ears, Gemma ceased her futile resistance and summoned up what few defences she had to face the inevitable.

  Her Mistresses, resplendent in long evening dresses, walked past their displayed slavegirl, ignoring her completely as they went to greet their guests and Gemma bit down hard on her gag as she heard the friendly greetings, deep male laughter and softer female voices of the arriving group.

  "Ah, Gemma my dear. How nice to see you again," Roxwell loomed over her, dressed in an immaculate dinner jacket, his deep set eyes drinking in her helpless nudity, "You already know Axel and Nicos, I believe," and Gemma closed her eyes, ashamed, as the giant, dinner jacketed Axel leered at her ringed breasts, "Yes, we've already had the..ah..pleasure of meeting this slave, haven't we, eh, slave?" and he gave a loud snort of laughter.

  "Indeed we have. Good evening, slavegirl," and Nicos gave her a slight bow, impeccable in evening dress.

  Gemma flushed a deep scarlet as Roxwell introduced a fourth man, recognising him instantly as the unknown man who had taken her on the day her breasts had been pierced!

  "This is Steven, girl. One of our little group in The Consortium. He has been away on business, but is now back and has been looking forward to meeting you again."

  Of average height, with brown hair and a friendly, open face, Steven looked nothing like the ruthless Master Gemma knew he was and she dropped her eyes from his steady gaze, remembering how she had begged him to take her. And he had!

  "I've heard good things about you, slavegirl," he said pleasantly, "Let us both hope they are true, because I would not want to be disappointed," and for a brief moment his eyes hardened and Gemma saw the steel behind the easy going exterior. Like each of her other Masters, he would not hesitate to take exactly what he wanted from her and Gemma knew it.

  The arrival of the lift bearing more guests broke up the little group around Gemma and it was some time later that she became aware that she was being scrutinised by a distinguished looking, grey haired man, accompanied by a very tall, very slim redhead dressed in an extremely short, skin tight silk cheongsam, split up the left thigh nearly to her waist. For several moments, the pair simply looked at Gemma's bondage and she coloured, knowing the image she presented and wondering who the two were.

  Alicia strolled over and Gemma's blush deepened as her Mistress offered a glass of champagne to the man, then said casually, "Enjoying the show, Matthew? We think she makes a rather good piece of bondage art, don't you agree?"

  "I certainly do. But tell me, Alicia, is she as obedient as she is pretty? After all, like any slave, her primary purpose is to be functional as well as merely decorative."

  Alicia frowned, "Naturally," she confirmed tartly, "Lydia and I are hardly novices at the training of slavegirls."

  "Of course. I apologise, my dear. May I have your permission to test her initial responses?"

  Gemma's eyes bulged at his casual enquiry and she spluttered into her gag, desperately hoping that her Mistress would refuse.

  Alicia chuckled indulgently, "Well," she began, "We were planning on waiting until after the buffet, but I never could refuse you anything, could I, you old rogue. Oh, very well, I can see that you're itching to test her out. Go on then, but don't blame me if the others get annoyed with you for jumping the gun."

  Matthew's eyes twinkled merrily as he assured her that he wouldn't and Gemma strained hopelessly at her bonds as he and the redhead moved to stand directly in front of her, staring calmly down at her anguished, gagged face.

  "Alicia tells me that you are a fully trained slavegirl," he said softly, "I wonder if you are?"

  Gemma hung her head as much as the post at her throat would permit, her shame intense as his steady, pale blue eyes examined her, but he reached down and took her jaw in his fingers, raising her face until she stared directly up at him.

  "Don't be shy, slavegirl," he admonished gently, "Masters do not permit modesty in their slaves. Your body is excellent and you might be whipped for attempting to hide it from a Master, might you not?" he did not wait for an answer which Gemma couldn't give and she stared numbly at him as he continued, "You are enslaved, but men have always enslaved women. You are merely the latest in a very long line and will most certainly not be the last. If you doubt me, I will prove it to you."

  He turned to his silent companion, "Tell her who and what you are."

  The redhead didn't hesitate for a second, "I am Clarissa and I am a slavegirl," she declared clearly and Gemma's jaw would have dropped open in stunned amazement if she hadn't been gagged.

  Matthew smiled at her astonishment, "Not all slavegirls are ringed and wear steel on their limbs and neck," he told Gemma, "Outward symbols of slavery can sometimes be inconvenient, but that does not mean that dear Clarissa here is any less of a slave than you. Show her Clarissa, show her how I have chosen to exhibit your submission to me."

  The redhead's eyes flashed with suppressed anger as she heard his order, but she, just like Gemma, was obviously well aware of the penalties for disobedience and she reached at once for the hem of her tight dress and pulled it up to her waist, at the same time spreading her shapely legs to give Gemma an unhindered view of her belly.

  Gemma gasped into her gag, any doubts she might have had about the other girl's slave status instantly dispelled. Clamped tightly about Clarissa's slim waist and between her thighs, a contoured steel chastity belt hugged her like a second skin, gleaming coldly in the bright lights and denying access to her body to any, including Clarissa herself, who did not hold the keys of the locks!

  "Turn around,."

  Clarissa's white teeth gnawed at her lower lip and as she obeyed, Gemma saw that her bottom, neatly bisected by the steel belt, bore the tell tale red stripes of a clearly recent whipping!

  "Clarissa was rather fractious earlier this evening, as you can see. I'm afraid I had to remind her of her duties somewhat forcefully. But I am confident she will be much more obedient now. Won't you, eh, slavegirl?" and his embarrassed submissive nodded swiftly.

  "Good. Then arouse this slave for me. But not, repeat not, to climax. That can wait until everyone can share the sight."

  Gemma screamed into her gag, her bells jingling musically at her breasts as his words sank into her brain and the redhead dropped gracefully to her knees in front of her.

&nb
sp; Long, slim fingers reached out and Gemma juddered explosively as her breasts were captured, blistering arousal crashing through her pinioned body as her hardened nipples were twirled and squeezed and rolled until they ached and throbbed unmercifully and her belly boiled with enforced lust. Almost at her peak, Gemma whimpered in despair and disbelief as Clarissa stopped, leaving her trembling on the brink of her climax.

  Exactly as her Master had ordered!

  Gemma didn't want to believe the evidence of her own eyes and body, but as Clarissa stood up and took her place at the side of her Master, she had to!

  Clarissa was a slave! No less so, and perhaps even more so, than Gemma herself!