He walked across the room to where Miles and Anton stood and after a minute’s conversation, beckoned to Hazel and Giselle, who hurried across and knelt by his feet, their faces upturned as they listened intently.
Both slaves nodded several times as David spoke, then rose gracefully and followed him as he returned to Moira.
“Stand up,” he ordered, unsmiling. “Now go with these slaves. They have my orders and know what to do. I shall be along later.”
Moira gulped, her eyes filling with sudden alarm and her mouth opened to argue and tell him that she wanted to stay with him.
“You have not been given permission to speak,” he snapped sharply, then added more softly, “Don’t let me down now, slave-girl, you have done very well so far.”
Moira hesitated, then slowly closed her mouth.
“Well done. Now, off you go.”
“This way,” Hazel urged and Moira allowed herself to be ushered out of the room, her last backward glance showing her Master sipping his cup of tea as he watched her being led away.
As they walked along the corridors towards the back of the Bondage Hotel, there was an awkward, strained silence between the three women.
A silence eventually broken by Moira, “Where...Where are you t...taking me?”
Hazel glanced at Giselle, then replied softly, “We have orders to take you to the dungeon, Madam.”
Moira stopped dead, “Oh no,” she said, her eyes widening, “No way. Absolutely not.”
“We must, Madam.” Giselle took hold of Moira’s left elbow. “We have our orders.”
“We have to,” Hazel added, “We don’t have any choice and...and neither do you, Madam,” and she took a firm grip of Moira’s right elbow, “Please, Madam, don’t make this difficult. We’ll be punished if we disobey.”
“I don’t care. Let go of me.” Moira demanded, “Let go, I said. Dammit, I’m a...a guest here and you’re only slaves. I order you to let me go.”
Hazel tightened her grip and stared into Moira’s angry face, “Listen,” she hissed furiously, “Yes, you’re a guest and yes, we’re slaves. Normally we would obey you as we would any Mistress, but you’re not a Mistress. Not any more. Don’t you understand? You are a slave, just like we are. It was your Master...yours...who gave us our instructions and he ordered us to ignore whatever you say. He told us to put you in the rack and we’ll be cropped if we don’t.”
Moira fell to her knees, shaking her head from side to side in shock, “No,” she whispered, “No. It...It can’t be. It just...can’t be.”
“But it is,” Giselle insisted, “Believe it, please, Madam. He is a Master and you wear his collar. You are a slave and you must obey just as we have to.”
Moira looked up, her eyes wide with fear, “The r...r...rack? He told you to...to put me on the r...rack?”
Hazel nodded sadly, “Yes, I am afraid that’s what he wants. And we don’t have much time.”
Moira nodded, too stunned to protest any more and allowed herself to be helped to her feet.
“The rack is not as bad as it sounds, Madam,” Hazel comforted. “It is only like being spreadeagled and we are not to tighten the chains. Only enough to hold you.”
Moira hardly seemed to hear, her eyes blank with shock and made no further effort to resist as Hazel and Giselle took her elbows again and walked her to the door of the dungeon.
The heavy wooden rack stood foursquare in the centre of the room, its chains gleaming dully in the gloom and as she saw it, Moira gave a violent shudder but said nothing.
Giselle frowned at Hazel then turned to the mesmerised brunette, “If you will get on, Madam?” she urged gently.
Moira started like someone coming out of a trance and looked at the French slave-girl. “Yes, all right,” she replied in a calm, even tone. “I just can’t believe David really means you to put me in that thing. Oh, I know he does.” She went on as Giselle shrugged helplessly, “There’s no reason for you to lie, but I simply never imagined myself in a place like this. But here I am...”
For a moment there was dead silence, then Moira’s face broke into a weak smile and she giggled wryly, “Oh, well, as I am here and you have your orders, I suppose we’d better get on with it. Can you give me a hand? It’s a bit difficult with no arms.”
Relieved that Moira had come to terms with the inevitable, Giselle went to the bottom end of the rack and prepared the adjustable chains to secure Moira’s ankles, while Hazel freed the brunette’s wrists from behind her back and helped her to climb onto the device.
For a moment, Moira seemed puzzled by the smooth hump that spanned the otherwise flat bed of the rack just over half way down its length, but even as she began to turn questioningly to Hazel, her face reddened and she gave a second nervous giggle.
“Is that what I think it’s for?” she asked slowly.
Hazel nodded, “Yes, Madam. It raises a slave’s hips and...well...sort of...presents her for her Master’s touch.”
“Hmm. I see,” the brunette replied and it was quite clear from the tremors that rippled across her belly that she really did see. “Our...Masters...seem to have thought of everything, don’t they?”
Hazel could only nod her silent agreement as Moira slowly lowered herself to her back and positioned her body so that the hump was beneath her hips.
“Comfortable, Madam?”
“Surprisingly, yes, thank you, Hazel. Physically, anyway. But...when you or...or David attach the...the chains, I’ll be quite...helpless, won’t I?
“Completely, I’m afraid,” Hazel confirmed, “You’ll be as much a slave as Giselle or I.”
Moira nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, I thought so. Very well, then, you’d best do it now, before I lose what nerve I have left.” She spread her arms and legs towards the corners of the rack.
Without further ado, the two experienced slave-girls clipped chains to Moira’s wrist and ankle cuffs and spun the wheel at the head of the rack, the wooden pinions clicking as the chains to her wrist cuffs took up the slack.
Mindful of the strict and detailed orders given them by Moira’s Master, Hazel and Giselle took care to allow her sufficient freedom of movement to be able to wriggle and even to be able to raise her head and back from the bed of the rack.
But not enough to permit her to hide her body or get her fingers within reach of the clips securing her.
Only when they were satisfied that she could never free herself, did they tell her apologetically that her Master wished her to be gagged.
Moira took the blow with as good grace as she could manage...after all, she could hardly do otherwise, considering it was her own husband who had given the order...and opened her mouth wide to receive the leather cylinder.
With her cheeks bulging and unable to speak, she could only watch in dismay as Hazel and Giselle went to the door, telling her that they had to report back to the Masters when their task was complete, then left her alone in the gloomy dungeon.
A few brief struggles showed Moira the efficiency of her bondage and she soon gave up the futile effort, concentrating her mind instead on what David planned to do to her.
She looked down at her prominent breasts and the upthrust joint of her spread thighs and shivered with erotic anticipation of his strong hands peeling the flimsy fabric from her helpless body and taking full, merciless advantage of her defencelessness.
What was taking him so long, she wondered, why didn’t he just come to her and take her?
But even as her brain framed the question, her belly flared with intense heat to the thought that the delay was deliberate.
Designed to increase and deepen her enslavement as she was forced to await his pleasure.
The idea was enough to send her arousal zooming even as she trembled in half-delicious fear of what such a cruelly calculated action might...would...indicate about her future.
The David she thought she knew, would never have dreamed of treating her in such a way...but then, that David would surely never have t
hought of enslaving her, either.
The new David, though, the one who in only a few days had chained her, collared her and forced her to submit as a slave to his Mastery, had exerted his newly imposed dominance over her with total authority and would have no qualms about using any and every ruthless trick to subjugate her ever more helplessly to his will.
Muffled whimpers leaked from behind her gag and her eyes grew wide with helpless longing as her body tingled and burned with fierce, uncontrollable heat as she visualised how desirable she must appear on the rack and how easily she might be caressed and aroused and taken.
Trembling to the power of a need she had never experienced before, Moira surrendered to her bondage and the Master who had had her bound for him, wordless pleas lost in the depths of her gag as she begged him not to leave her in such torment, but to come to her and extinguish the fires of her lusts in the whirlpool of a slave’s frantic submission.
Chapter Eleven
As Hazel and Giselle hurried back into the dining room and fell to their knees before Moira’s Master, they realised that none of the guests had left the room and that there was an air of tense expectancy among them.
Suddenly nervous, Hazel licked her dry lips and reported that the orders had been carried out and that the new slave-girl was secured.
He nodded, “Very good, slaves.” As he spoke, Miles and Anton stepped forward.
Casually, Anton ordered Giselle to clasp her hands behind her and then locked her wrist cuffs, while Miles commanded Hazel to place her hands behind her neck and secured her wrists to her collar.
With practised ease, Anton then hooded Giselle with an isolation helmet, removing her sight, speech and hearing, while Miles buckled a massive rubber ball gag between Hazel’s jaws, then fixed a thick leather blindfold over her startled eyes.
Blind and silenced, Hazel stumbled forward as a leash was snapped about her throat and she was led from the room, followed, as far as her ears could make out, by the entire group.
Helplessly obedient to the leash and totally dependent on its holder, she could not know where she was being taken, or why and her fear grew with every step.
Brought to a halt, she heard muffled screams and the rattling of chains, but then her legs were dragged wide apart and fixed immovably to the floor beneath her, while her wrists, still fastened together, were unclipped from her collar, only to be locked to a chain above her head and drawn upwards until she was stretched on tip-toe, her entire body cruelly tensioned and incapable of the slightest voluntary movement.
Then, from in front of her, Hazel heard Moira’s Master speak and an icy chill spread through her taut belly as she learned why she and, presumably, Giselle were present...
Moira’s belly churned and seethed with near unbearable desire and her mind whirled with thrilling fantasies as she awaited the arrival of her Master and the exertion of his power over her.
No longer caring that she was chained and gagged and spread helplessly, she longed only for the moment when the door to the dungeon would open and his hands and lips would send her spinning into an inferno of ecstasy culminating in his ruthless plundering of her defenceless and only too willing body.
Her belly kicked massively as he strode into the room and she gave an inarticulate cry of welcome, her eyes gleaming with pleasure and anticipation.
But then her cry turned to a shrill scream of stark terror and she wrenched and jerked against her chained limbs as she realised that he was not alone...
Behind him came Paolo de Castillo, James and Ellie Marston, the pony-girl enthusiasts, Miss Davies and her companion and, bringing up the rear, Miles Hetherington and Anton Dubeq, each with a gagged, blindfolded slave-girl in tow.
Calmly ignoring Moira’s muffled shrieks and the horror in her wild, staring eyes, David perched his right buttock on the edge of the rack and waited while Hazel and Giselle’s ankles were spread wide and chained to rings in the floor.
Then, chains were lowered from the ceiling, clipped to the slaves’ wrist cuffs and tensioned, leaving Hazel stretched on tiptoe and Giselle bent forward from the waist with her arms pointed towards the roof and her naked torso held parallel to the ground.
In complete command of both the situation and his frightened slave-wife, David gave a gesture with his left hand and de Castillo moved to the head of the rack.
Slowly, giving Moira time to realise and understand what was happening, he began to turn the wheel, wooden pawls clicking steadily as they began to take up the slack in the chains to her wrists.
Whimpering with the knowledge that she had only seconds before the chains spreadeagled her, Moira made a last despairing effort to break her bonds before it was too late, her slim body tense with effort.
The unaltered tempo of the pawls signalled her inevitable defeat and her eyes filled with tears of shame and despair as her arms were dragged inexorably upwards and her legs spread wider and wider under the compulsion of the tightening chains.
By the time the clicking stopped, Moira lay flat on the bed of the rack, her pale body forming a giant X, arms and legs massively splayed, held rigid and completely immobilised.
Lifting her head, she gazed down past her tautened breasts to the wide V of her gaping thighs, gasping as she saw the flimsy lace of her miniscule G-string stretched almost to breaking point over her upthrust and shamefully prominent sex.
Utterly defenceless and intensely aware of the intense heat simmering in her belly, she tore her eyes away from her body as her Master began to speak.
“You are my slave, Moira and you wear the symbol of your submission to me around your pretty throat,” he began, “But you do not yet fully understand what your collar and your submission truly mean. Today, here in this room, you will learn what it is to be a full slave.”
His voice, strong and full of authority, set her shivering, but at the same time, sent jolts of helpless arousal coursing through her as she realised that he meant to give her no option but to surrender totally.
“You see the two slaves before you,” he went on and Moira stared at the two tightly bound captives. “They are full slaves. The property of their Masters. Theirs to do with as they please. By the time you leave here, you will be no less of a slave than they.”
Moira gulped in horror.
Yes, she knew that Hazel and Giselle were slaves, but...but...they were part of the Bondage Hotel...facilities.
They had to serve the guests...any guests...with whatever they desired.
No matter what.
Surely...Surely David couldn’t mean that she...?
No. No, please no.
Filled with horror at the dreadful possibility, Moira shook her head wildly, but even as she did so, she felt her nipples stiffen and her belly surge as she imagined what it would be like to have to obey and please a complete stranger, simply because her Master ordered her to.
She tried to crush back the traitorous responses of her body, but found, to her alarm and humiliation, that her body would not obey her.
Her face burned with shame, but it was no good.
She simply could not quell the growing turmoil in her belly and she moaned in misery, horribly aware of her erect nipples and the damp heat between her thighs.
Her Master chuckled softly, reading the unmistakable signs of her arousal and Moira’s eyes bulged with shock as he slowly reached into his pocket and took out a small, sharp penknife.
“As you can see,” he said softly, “They are naked. As your Master, I have decided that you, too, should be naked.”
Moira stared beseechingly up at him, but could do nothing as he reached down to her breasts and slid the penknife through between the lace of her bra and her trembling flesh.
“Lesson one,” he told her firmly, “I make the decisions, slave.” He sliced through the material, lifting the two halves away and baring her breasts to his gaze and the eyes of the other watching dominants.
Frozen in disbelief, Moira felt his little knife cut the thin straps of her
G-string and his hand peel the flimsy fabric from the moist lips of her sex.
For an instant, her mind refused to accept the evidence of her senses, but then, as the truth crashed into her paralysed brain, she squealed in abject despair, her limbs straining futilely against her bonds.
She was naked.
Utterly, totally naked.
Helplessly bound and displayed as a slave to a group of strangers.
Her Master’s eyes glittered with pleasure as he surveyed her nudity, enjoying her frantic struggles until, at last, Moira was forced to accept that she could not free herself and gave up the attempt.
“Lesson two,” he chuckled, “A slave in bondage is only released when her Master chooses...and I do not choose to release you.”
He was clearly enjoying himself and Moira shuddered, frighteningly aware of her desirability and the ease with which she could be aroused and taken by any of the dominants whose eyes savoured the offered pleasures of her helpless nudity.
“As my slave, of course,” David went on casually, “You belong to me and I may do with you as I please. Just as Miles and Anton may do with Hazel and Giselle.”
As he spoke, the two dominants reached out and muffled squeals of frantic arousal leaked past the tightly gagged lips of the chained slave-girls as blistering arousal speared through their defenceless breasts and gaping sexes as they were forced to respond to the knowing, skilful fingers of their Masters.
Aroused in seconds to the furious heat of true slaves and submissives, Hazel and Giselle writhed in their bondage, their enforced passion all too clear to the horrified Moira, whose own breasts and belly quivered and fluttered to the awesome, intensely erotic spectacle.
Driven half out of her mind by the remorseless plundering of her body, Hazel exploded into a shattering climax, her body vibrating and her screams of surrender blending with Giselle’s as both slaves submitted to the power of their Masters, bellies spasming in orgasm and thighs glistening with spattered droplets of love juices in testimony to the extent of their needs.
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