Hazel whimpered in fear, certain that she could not possibly submit more deeply than she already had.
But as her Master sent his arms snaking around her and took a firm grip on the wall bars at her back, she found that she was wrong and that he knew her slavery better than she did...
He pulled himself forward and sandwiched her between his muscular torso and the wooden bars, flattening her breasts against his chest and her belly to his.
Then, with long, slow, smooth strokes, his maleness began to slide back and forth in her swirling belly, while his chest rubbed up and down against her trapped and extremely sensitive nipples.
The combination was extraordinarily erotic and Hazel’s body responded to the feel of his warm, hard flesh pressed tightly to hers.
Soon, her fingers and toes curled in deliciously frustrating arousal and she tried to urge him on with wordless cries from behind her gag as her desire built irresistibly to a second peak.
As he sensed her need, his thrusts grew more powerful and his grip tighter, until Hazel moaned in fear that she would be crushed and could only shudder helplessly as his erection pounded into her body.
He gathered himself and gave three mighty lunges, each fiercer and more penetrating than the last and as Hazel screamed in frantic, despairing anguish and her love juices gushed in hot, bubbling streams, his seed jetted into her convulsing belly.
Taken as a lowly slave, her wishes and preferences of no concern to the Master who used her so ruthlessly, Hazel climaxed with all the furious passion of a true slave, able to hold nothing back and forced to exhibit the utmost extent of her submissive need.
Her body vibrated and her hips ground against her Master’s thighs as her belly filled with searing heat and pulsed and kicked to the explosive power of her orgasm, her eyes wide with the knowledge of his ability to control her every response.
She had not wanted to submit a second time. Indeed, she had not believed that she could, so soon after her first tremendous climax.
But her Master had proved her wrong.
Proved to her that a slave’s body could...and must...respond to a Master.
Proved to her that a slave could...and would...be made to climax, as often as a Master wished.
Proved to her that a slave could have no defence against a Master who chose to make her submit.
Proved to her that a slave was helpless against the overwhelming passions of her own submissive nature.
And proved conclusively that a Master could easily harness those very passions to dominate and control a slave utterly.
In the midst of her orgasm, her belly churning with volcanic heat about his embedded shaft and with her love juices still pulsing in delicious spasms, Hazel groaned in defeated acceptance, understanding that by submitting twice to his Mastery, she had confirmed her own enslavement and taken another step along the path which could only end in her complete and permanent subjugation.
Her Master took a step back from her and casually dressed himself, ignoring the spasms shaking her belly and the despair in her eyes as she faced her unavoidable future.
At last, he let his eyes wander over her stained nudity and gave a cruel smile. “That was very satisfactory, slave. You submit well to a Master. Provided you continue to submit as willingly and fully, you may avoid punishment altogether.”
He paused and his eyes glittered with malicious humour. “But I seriously doubt it and I look forward to your first mistake and first meeting with my little whip.”
His teeth flashed in a broad grin and it was perfectly clear to Hazel that he intended to punish her whether she deserved it or not...and she knew that if he wanted to find an excuse to crop her, then he would.
By making one up, if necessary.
When he released her bonds, Hazel fell to her knees, limbs numbed from her long confinement and moaning as circulation returned with accompanying pins and needles all over her body.
As soon as her discomfort began to ease, she was ordered to stand and follow her Master from the gymnasium.
Conscious that the he was watching for the slightest sign of disobedience to give him cause to carry out his threat to use his whip on her, Hazel kept her wrists tightly crossed behind her back and made no attempt to remove the gag wedged in her mouth as she trailed him obediently.
She fought down the urge to turn and run as she realised he was leading her to the hotel’s bondage dungeon, but couldn’t suppress a shiver of horrified excitement at the thought of all the chains and ropes and bondage equipment she knew it contained...all specifically designed to hold slaves captive in whatever manner their Masters pleased.
In any case, there was nowhere to run. Tethered to the ceiling track, she couldn’t leave the hotel buildings and would be easily caught.
She had no choice but to do as she was told.
At her Master’s order, she preceded him through the heavy double doors which ensured that the dungeon was soundproof and walked into the dimly lit interior.
Her eyes adjusted slowly and she saw Giselle fastened helplessly into one of the twin pillories in the centre of the room.
Hazel stared between the tall wooden uprights of the device, seeing how the slim body of the French slave-girl formed a “Z” shape, her ankles held wide apart in the circular cut-outs of a solid plank set on edge at the base of the pillory and her head and wrists clamped equally securely through a second set of cut-outs some three feet above the ground.
Kneeling on the floor, with her thighs forced apart and her torso held parallel to the ground, Giselle’s whole body was wide open to any torment a Master cared to inflict.
Her small breasts hung down invitingly, her shaven sex gaped as if to welcome a Master’s fingers, her tautened buttocks seemed to beg for the fiery caress of a crop and even the tight, puckered ring of her anal passage was offered shamefully.
As Hazel walked forward and her eyes became fully acclimatised to the gloom, she saw that Giselle was bathed in sweat, her nipples were erect and her thighs spattered with silvery stains, proving that the brunette had been used no less fully than Hazel herself.
Any comfort the redhead might have taken from seeing that she was not alone in submitting to a Master died as she was ordered to the second pillory, set alongside the first.
Her horror made her hesitate for a fatal moment.
“Obey, slave,” the sharp, angry command came from her own Master, Miles, until then unseen by Hazel. “He is your Master and holds my complete authority over you. You have embarrassed me in front of another Master and will pay for your disobedience.”
Trembling in fear at his anger and deeply ashamed that she had let him down, Hazel scurried to the second pillory and knelt humbly between the uprights, spreading her thighs and ankles as widely as she could in imitation of Giselle’s bondage.
The lower plank closed on her ankles, holding her and she gulped as the upper bar was adjusted so that the lower half-circles of the leather lined cut-outs matched her kneeling height.
Without waiting to be told, she bent forward and pressed her wrists and neck onto the cool leather, hoping that her obedience might placate both of her Masters.
The top half of the bar lowered and she turned her head to the left in time to see the securing pin dropped in place.
An extremely simple locking mechanism which she could easily have undone with two fingers.
If any of her fingers could have reached it.
To her right, Giselle was just as helpless, her fingers just as far from the locking pin and as Hazel looked across at the brunette and saw how defenceless and completely vulnerable she was, felt her own body begin to respond again to her hopeless situation.
The Masters walked around in front of their pilloried slaves and when Anton held a wide, thick, gleaming steel ring to Giselle’s ungagged lips, the brunette obediently opened her mouth wide and allowed him to insert the ring into her mouth and position it behind her front teeth, buckling the strap behind her neck to hold her mouth wide
open.
Hazel frowned as Miles removed her ball gag and produced an identical ring, but, at that time, couldn’t imagine what the ring was for. Not that it mattered, for she was quite helpless and couldn’t stop him anyway,
The steel wedged behind her teeth, forcing her to open her jaws wide and with the strap tightly buckled behind her neck, her mouth and lips were stretched into an uncomfortable “O.”
No longer able to close her mouth even partially and with any semblance of understandable speech out of the question, Hazel resigned herself, with pleasurably nervous anticipation, to the devastating arousal of her immobilised body and her eventual submission as she was taken.
By whichever Master...or Masters...decided to have her.
The sight of Anton selecting two long, flexible canes and tossing one to Miles, set her pulses racing and naked buttocks flinching, but still couldn’t prepare her for the shocking revelation of the purpose of the steel ring between her jaws.
Cane in hand, Miles explained casually that many of the guests who would come to the Bondage Hotel enjoyed being pleasured by a tightly bound slave. Naturally, in bondage, a slave was unable to use her hands, so must learn to satisfy Masters with her lips and tongue and mouth instead.
The training ring was a simple device to aid Hazel’s learning process, stopping her closing her mouth and ensuring that she couldn’t bite.
Either accidentally or deliberately.
Appalled by the thought of having to please unknown Masters in such a shameful way, Hazel jerked her head to and fro in her efforts to expel the ring, her fingers clawing to reach the locking pin of the pillory.
Designed to foil just such attempts as hers, both devices easily resisted her most strenuous struggles and as her Master flicked his cane across her flexing buttocks with just enough force to get her attention, Hazel had to accept the unwelcome inevitability of defeat.
Her Master nodded in satisfaction as she ceased her futile efforts and then told her to watch carefully as Giselle demonstrated what was required.
Anton dropped his trousers to reveal his unaroused member and moved forward until he met Giselle’s open mouth.
At once, the brunette poked her tongue through the ring in her mouth and began to lick his flesh and press her lips to his body.
In less than a minute, he grew hard enough to continue unaided and guided his shaft through the ring and into her mouth, Giselle’s cheeks bulging and her eyes opening wide as, unable to draw back, she was forced to encompass his full length and girth.
Anton sighed with pleasure and beamed down at Hazel. “Giselle is very skilled at this, slave,” he told her proudly, “I taught her myself. She loves it, especially when I warm her bottom at the same time. Isn’t that right, eh, slave?” He sent his cane thwacking down on her left buttock to imprint a glowing patch of heat on her taut flesh.
Giselle squealed faintly, the sound muffled by his gagging flesh and her throat worked as her tongue redoubled its efforts.
Twice more, the cane found its mark on her buttocks and each time she squealed and increased her exertions, until, with a groan of ultimate pleasure, Anton reached his climax.
Giselle swallowed desperately, her eyes frantic as his spend gushed into her mouth, but could only gulp or choke and was forced to drink every drop of her Master’s salty tribute to her erotic skills, whether she liked it or not.
Hazel watched numbly, hardly daring to believe what Giselle was made to do or the flaring submissive heat which burned hotter and hotter in her own belly as she witnessed the brunette’s subjugation and knew her own must follow.
Already under promise of a punishment for her earlier hesitation, she fought down her shame and made herself lick and kiss the half erect flesh of her Master’s shaft as she had seen Giselle do to her Master.
To her helpless horror and despair, his maleness responded to her wet tongue and grew stiff, thickening and lengthening to jut threateningly at her anguished face as he became fully aroused.
She spluttered and coughed, almost choking as his erection slid through the steel ring holding her lips open and sank into her mouth, blowing out her cheeks and gagging her with iron hard flesh.
Incapable of any resistance, Hazel squealed in terror and pain as he lifted his cane and sent it cracking down across her unprotected buttocks, searing heat exploding in her bottom as he demonstrated his complete Mastery of her.
“That was for your disobedience, slave,” he told her casually, “Now you will please me or feel my cane again.”
Under the merciless compulsion of his stinging cane and before the eyes of Giselle and Master Anton, Hazel learned to satisfy a man with her mouth, her lips and tongue lapping and sucking at his engorged flesh as best she could, her unskilled efforts directed, encouraged and, when necessary, punished, by flaring heat in her buttocks as his cane found its mark.
At first, her humiliation almost beyond bearing, Hazel wished the floor would open up and bury her, but gradually, as she came to terms with her shame, the sheer eroticism of her enforced and quite unavoidable submission, began to excite her.
The heat of her caned buttocks and the growing heat in her swirling belly joined forces and Hazel allowed herself to surrender to her fate.
Gagged by her Master’s flesh, her tongue working to bring him pleasure, Hazel found herself actually enjoying the experience and anticipating how it would feel when he climaxed.
She did not have long to wait.
Her Master thrust forward, his maleness quivering and jerking and he gave a deep groan of pleasure as he came.
Hazel’s mouth and throat filled with gushes of his hot, salty spend and she choked, almost drowning in his love juices until her natural instincts took over and her throat swallowed and swallowed as his seed jetted.
Secretly thrilled by her success in pleasuring her Master and his ruthless subjugation of her, Hazel blushed as he stepped back and gazed coolly down at her pinioned body and the glistening stains of his climax on her stretched lips and chin.
“Hmm. Not bad, slave,” he told her, “Not as skilful as Giselle, of course, but you’ll get better.”
Hazel gulped and stole a sideways glance at the equally helpless brunette to her right and was rewarded by the crinkling of Giselle’s eyes as the slim French slave-girl gave her the only encouragement she could.
Anton chuckled, “That’s right, Miles. When she has had as much training and practice as Giselle, I have no doubt she will give Masters just as much pleasure.”
Clamped in the tight embrace of her pillory, Hazel was unable to nod, but the burning heat in her belly told its own story and she knew that when he forced her to serve him with her lips and mouth, it would not really be against her will.
The huge waves of arousal and excitement she had felt as she was locked in the pillory, to serve, on her knees, the absolute dominance of her Master, still swirled deliciously and she shivered with anticipation of the moment when she would have to pleasure Anton.
Sated, for the moment, the two Masters released their slaves from the pillories, secured their wrists behind them and marched them back to Hazel’s slave quarters, where, after removing the girls’ gags, they left them locked in to recover from the day’s exertions.
Nervous of each other, it took a little while for the two to relax, but soon they began to feel more at ease and it was not long before they were telling their stories and swapping experiences.
Giselle, unlike Hazel with Miles, had known Anton for several years and had become increasingly attracted to his strong character and determination over a long period before becoming his lover.
She knew he liked to be “the boss” and in charge of any situation, but that was how she had liked things to be, too, so it had been easy for her to fall completely under his spell and accept that he would make all the decisions.
From there, things had just progressed quite naturally until the day when Anton had presented her with an ultimatum.
Either she agreed to
become his full slave-girl permanently, or he would end the relationship.
Giselle chuckled reminiscently. “You can see what I chose,” she said, arching her neck to display her collar, “Perhaps I was foolish, but he looks after me well and I am not unhappy.”
Hazel nodded, understanding exactly why Giselle had made her decision. “Yes,” she agreed slowly, “I made the same choice. And now, foolish or not, we must both live with our decisions.”
Giselle smiled, “At least we are together, Hazel. Whatever comes and no matter what we have to do, we can face it together.”
And, as day followed day, each with its quota of strenuous exercise on the running track in the gymnasium, irresistible arousal at their Masters’ hands and lips, stinging discipline from their hissing crops and inevitable submission to the climaxes forced upon them, the two slave-girls endured together, each gaining strength and encouragement from the other, comforting and sympathising with the other’s tribulations and helping both to accept the slavery they shared and could not escape.
Giselle learned to run and improve her level of fitness; Hazel learned to please Masters with her mouth, coming to relish the distinctive and quite different tastes of the two men until she could have said which of them made her serve them even if she had been blindfolded.
Nor were their domestic duties forgotten. Under the men’s close supervision, Hazel taught Giselle how to serve meals and drinks, to clean and prepare the guest suites, to make beds and lay tables, all to the exacting requirements of their Masters.
All four, Masters and slaves, knew that they were preparing for opening day of the Bondage Hotel.
The day when the paying guests would arrive.
When Giselle and Hazel would have to provide any and every service demanded of them...
Chapter Six
There was one room in the Bondage Hotel to which neither Hazel nor Giselle had been taken.
The room to the right of the archway into the central courtyard.
Bondage Hotel Page 8