She didn’t make a sound as David fixed cuffs around her ankles and locked them together, but as he lifted the last piece, her collar, and brought it to her throat, she gulped and whispered, “Am I...Am I your sl...slave now, David?”
“As soon as I collar you, my love,” he told her.
To his surprise...and Giselle’s...Moira lifted her head and looked lovingly into his eyes, “Then collar me, darling. Collar me....and make me your slave.”
As the steel wrapped around her slim throat, she trembled like an aspen and as the locks clicked shut, bowed her head submissively.
David lifted her from the bed and gently placed her on her knees alongside Giselle, then locked Giselle’s wrists and ankles so that the two women were bound identically.
He looked down at his two captives, Giselle, a fully trained and obedient slave, her spine erect and her body arched to offer her to his touch, and Moira, new to her bonds, sitting back on her heels and head down.
“Moira.”
She looked up.
“Kneel up straight and present your body like Giselle.”
Moira’s head swivelled and she gazed at Giselle’s motionless pose, then looked up at her husband.
“You mean it, don’t you, David,” she said softly, and when he nodded, she swallowed jerkily. “You’re not...not just trying out these cuffs and collar on me, are you?”
He shook his head firmly and Moira shivered.
“You’ve got no intention of setting me free, have you?”
Again, a firm head shake.
“Then...I’m a real slave? My cuffs don’t...don’t come off?”
“No. They stay on.”
“Permanently?”
“Permanently.”
“My collar?”
“Permanent.”
“Will you keep me...naked?”
“Perhaps.”
“You will decide?”
“Yes. All you have to do is obey.”
“Like...Like Giselle?”
“Exactly.”
“I...I...love you, David.”
“I love you too, Moira. But you are a slave now, so you must call me Master. Unless you want to be punished.”
Moira’s eyes opened wide as she digested his order and the warning that accompanied it.
“Will you really p...punish me if I call you David instead of Master?” she asked incredulously. “Just for that?”
He bent down and picked up the thick leather gag that Giselle had brought back with her.
Moira gaped at the black cylinder and instantly forgot that she was supposed to be an obedient slave-girl as she realised what it was for.
“Keep that thing away from me,” she yelped desperately. “You can’t put that in my mouth. I’ll suffocate. Take it away, take it away!” She wrenched wildly at her cuffed limbs.
Her husband, her Master, held her head still with one hand and crammed the gag between her jaws, her cries of protest abruptly cut off as the leather packed her mouth and he buckled the strap tightly behind her neck.
Reduced to muffled and quite ineffectual gurglings, Moira was utterly horrified by his ruthless silencing of her.
She was even more horrified when he told her that her punishment for failing to address him as Master, was to wear the gag for the next hour.
A light punishment, he assured her, because she was new to her slavery.
Moira’s eyes bulged, then filled with shocked understanding as her enslavement became real to her.
She shook her head frantically, trying to dislodge the gag, but failed utterly and whimpered in anguish at her own helplessness.
Her Master waited patiently until she realised the futility of her efforts and ceased to fight her bonds.
Then he spoke, every word driving another nail into the coffin of her hopes.
“You are now my slave, Moira and I intend you to become as obedient and submissive as the slave who kneels beside you. Like her, you wear a slave’s collar and a slave’s cuffs and belong to a Master. In your case, that Master is me and you will learn to serve me perfectly, as Giselle serves her Master. I shall not free you and I shall not permit you to argue or resist. If you try, I shall punish you. There is nothing you can say or do which will change my mind and there is no-one to complain or appeal to. I am the sole judge of your performance as a slave and if I am not satisfied, I shall punish you. Ever since we met, I have wanted to make you my slave and now, you are. That is why I brought you to this hotel. Here, as you have seen, slavery is nothing unusual and my enslavement of you will create no unwelcome investigations or criticism. In the next two weeks, you will be forced to submit completely and at the end of that time, you will have become the humble and obedient slave that I wish you to be. I am afraid it will be quite hard for you, my love, but I am absolutely determined and I will accept nothing less. You will submit and you will submit willingly, because I believe that you love me as much as I love you and I know that our love will sustain us both as you learn to become a full slave and I learn to become your one true Master. When we leave here, we shall be not only husband and wife, but also Master and slave. But do not make the mistake of thinking that your slavery will end when we leave to go home. While we are here, specialist workmen are making some essential and expensive modifications to our home. Modifications that will enable your submission and training to continue in complete privacy and total security.”
He paused and smiled tenderly at his gagged wife and slave.
“There is, and will be, no escape for you, my darling. You are my slave and will always be my slave. For as long as there is breath in my body.”
Moira goggled at him, stunned into near-paralysis by his vision of her future, her brain frozen as she heard the meticulous planning and preparations that had gone into his enslavement of her.
Planning and preparations that gave her not the smallest chance of avoiding her fate.
As she knelt defenceless in her bondage, her Master moved to Giselle and his fingers seized her small, uptilted breasts, his thumbs rolling and brushing her nipples.
Giselle gasped as arousal shot through her body, but held her submissive pose as her nipples rapidly engorged to stand erect and quivering beneath his hands.
“This is how a trained slave responds to a Master,” he chuckled. “It is how you will be trained to respond to me, Moira.”
Giselle flushed redly, knowing that her body was simply being used as a demonstration to show Moira the ease with which a slave could be aroused and the fierce passion which all true slaves possessed and were helpless to control.
Knowing that her slave heat was being deliberately stoked did nothing to reduce its effects upon her and Giselle arched her spine further, pressing her throbbing breasts forward into the grasp of her tormentor as burning arousal coiled and flared in her belly.
At her side, Moira watched in awestruck horror as her husband exerted his Mastery over Giselle and the helpless slave-girl’s torso writhed sensually to the need imposed on her.
It was the first time that Moira had witnessed a slave’s subjugation and she moaned in fear, unable to believe the intensity of Giselle’s desires or the shameful longing mirrored in her eyes as she offered herself unreservedly to her Master.
“Legs apart, slave,” David snapped, his fingers never ceasing their devastating arousal of Giselle’s rigidly swollen nipples. The brunette obeyed instantly, her thighs spreading to the full extent allowed by her cuffed ankles.
Moira stared downwards, to the joint of Giselle’s shapely thighs and shuddered as she saw that the slave-girl’s sex lay open and cruelly vulnerable, lacking even the minimal protection afforded by pubic hair.
Moira looked down at her own dark triangle of luxuriant curls, wondering whether her sex, too, would soon be shaven and bare and her belly fluttered with shameful excitement.
Inch by inch, telling herself that she was just curious to see how it felt, Moira moved her knees apart until the steel cuffs at her ankles tightened a
nd her thighs were spread as wide as Giselle’s.
“Very good, slave-girl.”
Moira tore her eyes from her own body...and found her Master grinning at her.
“No. Do not close your legs,” the order was given with total authority. “Stay exactly as you are.”
Moira gasped, David had never spoken to her so forcefully before and his arrogant confidence unnerved her completely.
A tremble raced up her spine as she remembered that she had never been helplessly chained up and collared as a slave-girl before, either.
“Kneel up straight, slave,” he ordered firmly. “And pull your shoulders back.”
Moira wanted to refuse and tell him what she thought of him trying to order her around, but she had a gag in her mouth and couldn’t utter a single one of the angry words that buzzed in her brain.
Frustrated and frightened by her helplessness, she did as he commanded, expressing her annoyance in the only way she could by turning her head away from his smiling face and refusing to look at him.
Her defiance lasted no more than a second or two as he took advantage of her action to send his hands racing to her breasts.
Moira squealed into her gag and wrenched wildly at her cuffs as he aroused her unmercifully, but she could not break free or evade his hands and was forced to endure the massive stimulation until her breasts and nipples trembled and quivered in response to his touch and tears of despair and humiliation poured down her cheeks to soak into her gag.
Her Master was nearly as upset as she was, his face red as he aroused her, but he was determined to make her submit as the slave he wanted her to be and made himself continue until she responded helplessly, her body twisting and writhing just as erotically as Giselle had been made to writhe when he aroused her.
At last, he removed his hands from her body and stood staring down at his devastated and hugely aroused slave-wife shaking and moaning at his feet.
He turned to Giselle and shrugged his shoulders, almost as if apologising for the havoc his fingers had wreaked on both her and Moira.
Giselle smiled at him and nodded understandingly, well aware that he loved his wife deeply and had not really enjoyed imposing such distress upon her, despite his resolve to enslave her.
He smiled back in gratitude and Giselle’s belly swirled with delicious heat as he stared meaningfully at her parted thighs and gave a quick nod, promising her, she fervently hoped, a climax as a reward for her help and support.
Setting his face in a stern expression, as befitted an all-powerful Master, he turned back to Moira, “Lift your head, slave and display your beauty to your Master.”
Whimpering in anguish, Moira submitted to his will and forced her trembling body erect, her eyes soft and moist as she obeyed as a slave.
“Do not move,” he warned, “Not one inch, slave.” Then he subjected her nudity to a long and detailed scrutiny, testing her obedience as his hot eyes drank in the rounded domes of her breasts, the stone hard rigidity of her thrusting nipples and the damp, velvet softness between her widespread thighs.
Moira panted through flaring nostrils as her Master exerted his dominance but dared not attempt to move or hide her body from his gaze, mindful that he had told her quite plainly that she would be punished if she tried to resist him.
She wasn’t certain that she believed him but wasn’t prepared to risk finding out that she was wrong.
Far better and much safer, she decided, to submit to him while he was in this domineering mood and wait until he was in a more reasonable and receptive frame of mind, before insisting that he give up his absurd notion of enslaving her permanently.
As he ended his inspection of her body, he chuckled with pleasure. “You respond well as a slave, Moira. Better than I had hoped. But the real test of a slave is not only how she responds to her Master’s touch, but how well she climaxes. That test you will now take...as will Giselle.”
She stared at him in disbelief, searching his face for signs that he was joking.
There were none and she realised that he was going to do exactly what he said.
In the bondage he had placed upon her, silenced by the gag he had thrust between her jaws, Moira shuddered as she faced the inevitability of the submission he would extract from her.
Beside her, Giselle faced the same fate...but with a keen anticipation born of the arousal she had already endured and the delicious slave heat which it had ignited in her belly.
The added spice of knowing that she was to be made to display the extent of her submission to two virtual strangers and that one of those strangers, Moira, was also to be made to submit, sent jolts of electric arousal racing through her body and Giselle knew that her climax would be deep and powerful.
David, Master of the two tightly bound slaves who knelt helplessly before him, positioned himself between their nude bodies and crouched down, waiting until their eyes fastened on his calm face. “You are both slaves,” he said firmly, “I am your Master and you will submit completely to me.”
His hands shot out, left going to Giselle’s shaven belly, right diving between Moira’s parted thighs, fingers and thumbs seeking out the exquisitely tender softness of their most intimate femininity, gliding easily in the moist warmth of their arousal and exploring the silky smoothness of labia and sex.
Giselle, slave trained, fought to hold her position, her teeth clenched against a scream of ultimate pleasure as his fingers penetrated deep into her and furious passion erupted in her belly.
By contrast, Moira, new to her chains and her slavery, had no such inhibitions.
She screamed shrilly into her gag as unbearable, undreamed of, arousal exploded through her body, ripping aside her fragile defences of freedom and convention to leave her naked and exposed to the frenzied storm of irresistible desire and enforced, uncontrollable lusts that raged through her shuddering belly as she learned, to her horror, the full meaning and extent of a slave’s submission.
Her legs snapped together, but far, far too late, trapping her Master’s hand but succeeding only in squeezing his fingers deeper into her body.
He looked up, his eyes boring in to hers. “Resume the position I ordered, slave,” he told her calmly, “Or I shall punish your disobedience.”
Moira knew, at that moment, that his plans for her were not absurd, but all too real and that she was, incredibly, to become a genuine and fully submissive slave.
A huge wave of shameful excitement poured into her belly as she obeyed him, forcing her legs apart and opening her body once more to receive his touch, her arousal burning like a flame.
Then, as Giselle and Moira gasped and writhed, their bodies displayed helplessly before him, his hands roamed freely over their breasts and thighs and bellies, every caress bringing increasingly desperate responses as he built their passions inexorably towards climax.
Driven to a peak of sexual need, eyes frantic with mute pleas for mercy, both slaves arched as one, their bodies straining for release as his fingers sank to the seething core of their bellies to trigger the orgasms each so fervently desired.
Massive spasms racked sweat stained bellies, breasts and engorged nipples quivered and throbbed, soft moans of unbearable pleasure filtered past gagged lips and clenched teeth...and David, husband of one slave and Master of both, savoured his victory as pulses of hot love juices drenched his embedded fingers.
Soon, he decided, he would release Giselle and order Moira to satisfy his urgent need.
In her chains, gagged and spreadeagled...as the submissive slave he was determined to make her …
Chapter Nine
As Hazel made her way to the stable to keep her appointment with the pair of pony-girl enthusiasts, her nervousness grew with every step.
From their conversation the previous evening, she had gathered that they were both expert in the harnessing, training and exercising of pony-girls, the woman from between the shafts and the man from the driving seat. She remembered only too well how he had run his hands ov
er her legs to check her fitness, then sent her on her way with a brisk, impersonal slap across her buttocks.
Exactly as an owner would treat a real pony.
Hazel reached the door to the stable and took a deep, steadying breath, then opened it wide and walked into the brightly lit room.
The man was already there and as Hazel went gracefully to her knees before him, her spirits, already low, sank to rock bottom.
He stood in the centre of the stable, his stocky body clad in a well-worn tweed hacking jacket and khaki jodhpurs, legs encased in polished black riding boots, looking every inch the country gentleman dressed for a day’s pony driving.
Even down to the whippy riding crop tapping gently against his left calf.
“Good morning, Sir,” Hazel said humbly, her eyes on the crop.
He frowned, “I am not accustomed to being addressed by ponies and I do not like it.”
His stern rebuke sent a shiver of fear through Hazel for she knew that he had the power to punish her...even for not knowing something she had never been told.
He gestured with the crop and she rose to her feet, praying that she had done the right thing.
It seemed that she had, for he simply grunted and went to fetch her harness.
In total silence, he fitted the leather to her body, tugging each strap uncomfortably tight and ensuring that her breasts and sex and buttocks were prominently displayed.
Without being told, Hazel clasped her hands tightly behind her, straining her shoulders back to force her elbows as close to each other as she could manage, in preparation for the steel rod and leather straps that would bind her arms into a single, aching column.
One by one, he fastened the buckles and Hazel winced, not daring to make a sound as her arms were lost to her and the cruel, unremitting tension thrust her breasts even further forward, so that her nipples jutted insolently.
The waist belt and knee hobbles followed and when he lifted the head harness and its attached bit, Hazel opened her mouth in what she feared would be her last voluntary action for many hours.
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