Captivation

by Sarah Fisher

  She hoped he would look at her, his expression giving her the reassurance she needed, but instead he seemed intent on the contents of the box. From inside he produced a fine silver chain and a pair of pliers. She flinched as he cupped first one breast and then the other. With a cool professional touch he slipped the chain though the nipple rings, and used the pliers to close the links at each end to link the two rings together.

  Next he moved down to the studs that pierced her labia. Alex winced as he forced the studs up. Mario handed him something from the metal box. Alex strained to watch the journey of the object he was now holding. He was replacing the studs with a single heavy silver ring. A small ornate medallion bearing a tiny coat of arms hung from it. It was a sign of her origins, a mark of ownership. Alex closed her eyes. The first and last time she had seen a ring like it was when she had been making love to Gena. She shivered. The ring slipping through the lips of her sex seemed like a gesture of finality. The mental anguish she felt was far greater than the physical pain of the studs being removed.

  When satisfied with his work he turned away and Mario unlocked the manacles holding her ankles and wrists. Alex watched the housekeeper approaching with her outfit; a long sheath dress of gold voile. The fabric was so sheer it looked like gossamer. The old woman slipped it over Alex’s head, gently lifting it over the chain that now linked her breasts. Mario added a pair of high golden sandals while the housekeeper set about dressing Alex’s tumble of titian curls. Tourne watched without a word until the old woman added the customary slash of scarlet lipstick.

  ‘Do her nipples too,’ he said. The old woman undid the high neck of Alex’s dress, carefully folded it down, and traced her nipples with the scarlet stick. They hardened instantly under the housekeeper’s deft touch. The old woman pulled the dress back into place.

  Tourne nodded his approval. Alex reddened; the approval was not for her but for the servants who had transformed her. Helping her to her feet, the housekeeper turned Alex round so that he could admire their handiwork further. As Alex turned she gasped; for the first time since she’d been held prisoner here she was confronted by a full-length mirror, which had been brought into the room without her noticing. What she saw made her freeze.

  The exquisite gold evening dress fitted her like a second skin. Intricate gold embroidery emphasised her slender yet shapely form, revealing tantalising glimpses of her breasts and sex. Her tinted nipples pressed in dark invitation against the fabric, the silver chain and rings adding a strange glittering counterpoint to her creamy flesh.

  The housekeeper had spun Alex’s long hair out into a halo of curls, and subtle make-up made the most of her fine bone structure. Under any other circumstances her appearance would have been a thing of simple beauty - but instead Alex was aware that the outfit subtly proclaimed her submission; the fine studded leather collar still encircled her neck, and the silver chain hung down invitingly between her breasts. Any man alive seeing her dressed in the beautiful gold confection would instantly know she was nothing more than the slave of a very wealthy master; a pretty bauble created for pure pleasure.

  Peter Tourne appeared in the mirror beside her. His eyes moved over her reflection, appraising what he saw with a detached look. After a few seconds he offered his arm to her, and Alex felt powerless to resist him. It seemed he was ready to present her to his guests.

  Outside the night was already dark and starry. The confident man and the beautiful girl walked in silence to the villa. She longed for him to say something - to offer her some words of comfort or support, but instead his eyes remained firmly fixed on the steps ahead.

  Inside the main hallway a uniformed lackey handed them a glass of champagne each. Peter Tourne turned towards the front door, awaiting the arrival of his friends. Beside him Alex trembled as she heard the soft purr of a car engine and the crunch of tyres on the drive.

  Starn Fettico appeared first, dressed in a white dinner jacket. Tourne grinned as Starn crossed the room.

  ‘Starn,’ he said warmly. ‘How good to see you again. How was London?’

  Starn grunted and embraced his friend. ‘Wet, cold - a perfect English summer.’ He eyed Alex, who instinctively looked down at the floor. ‘I see you’ve nearly done with her then?’

  Tourne shrugged. ‘Almost. I’ve invited Simon Bay to join us tonight. I hope you don’t mind, I want him to take a look at her. Where’s Gena?’

  Starn took a glass of champagne from the proffered tray. ‘I met Jack Casman whilst in Bonn. He offered me a good price...’ the Greek shrugged dismissively. ‘What can I say?’

  Alex stiffened as she realised what Starn was saying. Gena had been sold off like an unwanted puppy.

  Tourne nodded. ‘So, you’re in the market for a new companion too now? How is Jack?’

  Alex’s mind was reeling. There wasn’t a shred of emotion in Peter Tourne’s voice - not the slightest hint of concern for the fate of the beautiful blonde he’d trained.

  ‘He’s fine,’ Starn had continued. ‘Actually, I picked up something that might be of interest to you.’ He turned and waved to his own driver who was standing in the open doorway. ‘Jack took me to a little club near his mansion - Carmino’s - perhaps you’ve been there? They deal mostly in imports. I would suggest the next time you’re in Germany you take a look. They had some interesting things on offer there...’

  His voice faded into the background as Alex’s eyes were drawn to the doorway. The driver had reappeared, his gloved hand holding two leather leads, attached to which were two girls. Alex stared in astonishment. At first they seemed but mere children, but as they stepped into the light Alex realised they were in fact two exquisitely beautiful young women, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years of age.

  Identical twins. They appeared to be Eurasian, with waist length oil-black hair and huge brown eyes. They were naked except for sheer white silk shifts that came down to and swayed around the tops of their thighs. The fabric was so finely woven it revealed every intimate curve. The girls’ breasts were small but firm and thrusting, and topped with pert mauve nipples, and their genitals were hairless and oiled. The two of them stared around the opulent interior of the villa, and then giggled nervously. They seemed to bloom like perfectly ripened fruit.

  Starn smiled indulgently at his latest purchases. ‘Bring them inside,’ he said to his driver.

  Tourne whistled appreciatively. ‘Very nice... very nice indeed.’

  Starn sipped his champagne. ‘They cost me a mint. A matching pair, fresh from their village - certified virgins. They’d been in Bonn for only three days when I saw them. Barely long enough to have a medical check and arrange some paperwork.’

  Starn took a cigar from his top pocket and lit it. The twins meanwhile stood very still, holding hands, obviously apprehensive, watching their new master for some kind of signal. He beckoned them further into the room, and they scurried over to him. Starn relieved his driver of the leads and the girls immediately sank down and knelt either side of him on the cold tiled floor.

  Peter Tourne smiled. ‘A very nice find. Are they broken yet?’

  Starn grinned and took a long pull on his cigar. ‘What do you think? It felt just like Christmas, they were so ready for it.’

  Alex stared down at the twins. They were naturally subservient. Everything about their body language implied their unquestioning obedience. They looked so sweet and vulnerable. Alex hoped Starn had been kind to them, but doubted it. One girl nuzzled Starn’s thigh, seeking attention and favour. Starn appeared oblivious to her. As she moved her glossy hair fell forward, and Alex could see a fine red weal across her shoulder. It seemed almost an obscenity to mark her silky gold tinted skin.

  Alex’s attention was broken by the sound of Tourne greeting someone else. She looked up and the breath caught in her throat.

  ‘Simon! How wonderful to see you again. I’m so glad you cou
ld make it,’ the suave host said with genuine warmth as he stepped forward to embrace his guest of honour. ‘We were just admiring Starn’s latest acquisitions. You remember Starn, don’t you?’

  Simon Bay - the man invited to come and examine Alex - stepped into the room flanked by two dark skinned women of Amazonian proportions. The girls were both over six feet tall. With spiked shoes that added at least four inches to their natural height they appeared quite awesome. Their voluptuous curves where strapped into fabulously cut leather body harnesses, but, for all their astonishing beauty, it was Simon Bay who captured Alex’s attention.

  She stared at him in open-mouthed disbelief, recognising his aristocratic features instantly. This wasn’t the anonymous slave master she’d been expecting, but a face from the gossip columns - a member of one of the richest and most well known families in England, who’s photograph she’d seen time and again in the society pages, squiring some titled beauty or other to a gala, or a ball, or a first night.

  He was dressed in a long Edwardian style jacket. His mouth was cruel, and his eyes flashed like a bird of prey as he met her gaze and unashamedly took in the contours of her luscious body. Alex dropped her gaze, feeling her cheeks colour furiously. It seemed the guest of honour hid his real name, but not his nature, behind a pseudonym.

  As Tourne, Starn and Simon Bay exchanged social pleasantries, Alex could feel the latter’s hungry eyes crawling over every inch of her.

  ‘So,’ said Bay, accepting the glass offered to him without interrupting his blatant inspection. ‘This is your latest pupil, Peter?’

  Tourne nodded. He’d sensed his friend’s interest as soon as he’d walked into the room. Good manners had required he show him Starn’s new girls first, but he knew that Simon’s preference was for European or black slaves; they offered a real challenge.

  Simon Bay pensively turned the glass in his long slim fingers. ‘Physically she’s not quite to my taste,’ he said flatly as he slowly began to circle Alex as though stalking his prey.

  Tourne nodded. He’d expected as much. Simon liked muscular, heavy breasted women.

  Simon Bay teased out a lock of Alex’s hair and twisted it thoughtfully around his fingers. ‘That isn’t to say I couldn’t sell her for you. She looks presentable. Interesting colouring. There’d be no need for a master to hide this one away.’ As he spoke he glanced at Starn’s matching pair of fillies as if to make his point. ‘I’d need to have my doctor look her over - put her through her paces.’

  He stopped his circling and stood close behind Alex, looking over her shoulder and admiring the slow swell of her breasts. He gripped the hem of her dress and began to pull it up. His thin hand slid between her smooth thighs, making her catch her breath and shiver. His face registered disapproval. ‘She’s dry.’

  Tourne sighed. ‘My servants just bathed her.’

  Simon Bay shrugged. ‘I always prefer them unwashed. Their scent is part of the appeal for my clients.’ He pulled his hand away and looked round. ‘Have you some oil, and a towel?’

  Tourne nodded towards one of the lackeys, cursing himself for not being prepared; a girl sold by Simon Bay had great cache.

  Beside him Starn grinned and lifted the leads on his two Eurasian girls. ‘Perhaps you’d like to look over my new stock too? I can guarantee they’re good and wet. And I’d appreciate your opinion, though they’re not for sale.’

  Simon Bay nodded. ‘Of course, my dear chap. I’ve always liked twins, though they can be harder to manage. Don’t be tempted to split them up - together they’re worth at least four times their value as individuals.’

  The servant reappeared and Simon Bay slowly poured the olive oil over his fingers. Peter Tourne glanced monetarily at Alex, willing her to behave as he knew she could. She looked at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. He nodded his approval and silent support. Without a word she opened her legs, bending forward a little so that Simon Bay could begin his examination without hindrance. She bit her lip as his fingers explored her most intimate parts. He mumbled his approval as his finger slipped comfortably into her quim.

  ‘Nice and tight here. Shame she’s so dry, it really spoils the overall effect. She’s supposed to be ready whenever she’s required.’ His finger slipped out and he sniffed it speculatively like an expert wine taster. ‘Subtle bouquet,’ he mumbled again. ‘But difficult to judge when she’s so clean.’ He oiled his fingers again.

  Peter Tourne watched Alex stiffen, and knew from the exquisitely confused expression on her face that his distinguished guest’s hand had slid between her buttocks; he knew where Simon Bay would inspect next. As a persistent finger pressed home Alex let out a soft mewl of discomfort.

  ‘Perhaps a little too tight here,’ Simon Bay said casually as though commenting on a piece of clothing, ‘though she is very tense. If I take her on I’d have to insert a stretcher. A lot of my clients would be reluctant to purchase her if she couldn’t take them anally as well.’

  Tourne nodded his understanding as Simon Bay wiped his hands on a towel the servant held out for him. He circled Alex again and stroked her breasts through the sheer dress. Her nipples hardened at once under his knowing touch.

  He nodded thoughtfully. ‘All in all, not too bad, Peter. I’d certainly be happy to put her on the auction list - providing you can let me have her for a few days before hand. Not that you’ve done a bad job, old chap - she’s a fine specimen, but she still requires a little more work. A little... fine tuning, so to speak.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Don’t look so worried old man, I’m certain she’ll make a decent price for you.’ He grinned. ‘When can you deliver her?’

  Tourne’s delight at his friend’s words was tinged with a sense of regret. He suddenly experienced strange feelings towards Alex. ‘A week, she has to finish the mural I told you about.’

  Simon Bay nodded. ‘Ah yes... By the way,’ he said as he took his glass of champagne and instantly changed the subject with a bizarre air of normality. ‘Did you hear that Monique is coming to my party tomorrow night. She’s calling in on her way back to the States. I’ve already invited her to fly back to my place for the auction...’

  The conversation moved away from Alex and on to wider things. Peter Tourne glanced back as his friend warmly threw an arm around his shoulder and invited him to look over his new body slaves - a single tear was trickling down Alex’s exquisitely made-up features.

  The dinner party was a great success. Wine - served by Alex and Starn’s new Eurasian girls - flowed like water. Simon Bay’s intimidating slave women stood sentinel by the double doors of the dining room, their faces impassive, and their eyes flashing as the men indulged in a magnificent meal.

  Alex couldn’t reconcile the feeling of pain she felt as Peter Tourne played host to his two guests. He seemed oblivious to her now that Simon Bay had given his seal of approval. Her mind was wandering as she refilled their wine glasses for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, and - while not concentrating - the neck of the decanter caught the top of one of the glasses and tipped the contents over the table. Instantly the conversation ceased.

  Nervously Alex began to dab at the spreading scarlet pool with a napkin, feeling a tiny flurry of fear in her stomach; it almost seemed the men had been waiting for her to make some kind of mistake. Simon Bay looked at Peter Tourne, and then beckoned Alex nearer. Drunkenly he slid his hands up under her skirt, and teased the lips of her quim.

  ‘Not so dry now, eh?’ he purred with amusement.

  Alex swallowed hard and looked at Tourne.

  ‘I’m very sorry about the wine,’ she began.

  Simon Bay grimaced theatrically. ‘She speaks too readily. Haven’t you taught her that slaves are expected to be quiet?’ he said to Tourne. His fingers pawed further. ‘In some places they’d cut out her tongue if she refused to obey.’ He grinned crook
edly. ‘Always seems such a shame; a tongue can be used for so many lovely things besides talking.’ The wine had made him rough. Alex flinched as he clumsily prodded a finger up inside her. He sniggered and burped quietly. ‘Maybe your protégé is not as obliging as you would have me believe, Peter. It’s her European upbringing. One of my handsome coloured girls, or either of those pretty little twins of Starn’s, would have their legs open the instant you touched them, eager to satisfy their master.’

  Peter Tourne, his cheeks similarly flushed with wine, snorted ‘that’s what makes her special, Simon we both know that. She is yours to command - do what you like with her, you’ll see she’s better than all of them put together.’

  Simon Bay sniggered again and jabbed another finger into Alex. ‘She’s still too dry.’ His fingers slipped out and he turned her to face him. ‘My good friend Peter tells me you’re willing to please.’

  She nodded warily; she knew there was little else she could do.

  ‘Very good,’ Simon Bay blinked slowly as if it took a great deal of effort, and then slurped his wine. ‘Then lift up your dress.’

  As Alex obeyed, Simon Bay - his eyes firmly set on the pierced lips of her quim - lifted a hand and beckoned to the Negro girls who flanked the door. He looked up into Alex’s eyes as the coloured girls approached. ‘They will make you wet for me,’ he said softly. ‘Open your legs.’

  The heavily built women moved with deceptive grace and silence. Before Alex could compose herself one girl dropped onto all fours between her and Simon Bay and ran her snakelike tongue across the lips of Alex’s naked sex. Alex gasped with a mixture of shock and surprise. A moment later the second woman closed behind her and reached round the stunned girl to cup her breasts. Her alien sex brushed Alex’s back.

  For an instant it felt to Alex as though they would overwhelm and consume her. Between her legs the tongue flicked back and forth across her pleasure bud, while the pinching fingers sent wonderful sensations through her nipples and breasts. She struggled to catch her breath.