by Ian Smith
Proby clicked his fingers and gestured to the door and Rosie immediately left. Sue was alone with him. This didn’t fill her with any enthusiasm, but at least nobody else was able to witness whatever might now happen.
You will not formally become a slave until you make the standard submission back on the estate,” he said to her, although he was more musing to himself. “Nevertheless, your attire is not really appropriate. Strip yourself to the waist.”
he sheer casualness of it struck Sue like a hand across the face. Somehow, almost in a daze, she found herself pulling her ragged and dirty t-shirt over her head and then reaching behind her back to unclip her bra, allowing it to fall away. Unsure what to do with her hands but knowing that covering herself up was not an option, she clasped them behind her back.
e looked at her breasts without any slightest disguise of his interest and Sue felt her face go red. It was several years since any man had seen her boobs, not since her former husband before their messy divorce. Fortunately she was a fitness devotee and plenty of gym work and in particular lots of swimming had kept her chest very firm. For a moment she was worried that she was past being attractive, but the look of interest on his face was oddly reassuring even whilst it made her feel deeply embarrassed.
You’ll do,” he said with a casualness that humiliated her even further and then he began to discuss practicalities. Sue managed to contribute without ever losing her awareness of the position she was in. Basically, he suggested that his lawyers, who were very competent, arranged for the lease on Sue’s council house to be terminated and his major domo, Forsythe, would oversee the collection of all of the family belongings and their safe movement into storage. After a little consideration, Sue agreed. It seemed pointless to be paying rent on the house for a year when they would not be there and none of them had any love for the place. Proby assured her that Forsythe would handle all other matters, that he was very efficient and that the family would be assisted in finding a new home at the end of the year. “You will find me a hard and sometimes cruel master,” Proby said, “but you will not find yourselves out on the streets at the end of your sentence of slavery.”
As he was saying this, a knock came on the door and one of the two bodyguards entered. Sue’s hands went instinctively to cover up her bare chest. Proby was about to speak to the man but instead turned to her in clear irritation.
Did I instruct you to cover yourself up?” he asked her.
N-no, sir, I mean master,” Sue said, going red.
So why did you?”
I just ... I mean ... sorry, master,” Sue said in confusion and lowered her hands. She felt her face go redder as her boobs came into full view.
“Go and stand in front of him.”
Face burning with humiliation, Sue obeyed. Like Proby, he ogled her without any slightest pretence of not doing so. There was no gentlemanly aversion of eyes here. Then, without warning, his muscular hands reached out and grabbed her breasts. Sue didn’t even have time to evade him, and now he had both her tits in a very firm grasp as he kneaded and squeezed them painfully. She bit her lip but managed to say nothing.
You will need to get used to treatment like this.” Proby’s voice, now firm and unyielding, reached her ears, which seemed to be buzzing from the humiliation.
Y-yes, master,” she mumbled.
You must also become accustomed to obeying. I think it is in your best interests to become aware right now of the consequences of failure to obey fully,” he added, as much musing to himself as to her. Then he addressed himself to the big man who was playing roughly with her tits. “Give her three with the crop,” he instructed.
The man nodded and let go of her boobs. Sue’s relief was very short-lived as she was grabbed by the shoulders, turned around, man-handled across the cabin to a seat and then pushed over it so that she was bent over it from the back with her palms on the seat itself. “Don’t move,” the man warned her and then went away to get something.
Despite being a spirited, highly intelligent woman, Sue had always seemed to lack control of her fate, but never quite as much as this. She looked around the side of the chair to see him returning towards her and her eyes widened in shock as she saw the riding crop in his hands. Somehow she held position. Then she felt his hands on her hips and suddenly her shorts and knickers were yanked violently down. There was a loud ping as the button at the top of her shorts flew off and clattered down to the floor somewhere. Her now naked derriere thrust defencelessly into the air.
There was a loud swish and a red line of fire seemed to erupt in her bottom. Sue gasped in shock and pain and began to jerk upright, but a firm hand on her bare shoulder pushed her back down. She dimly heard a second swish and then another line of fire doubled the pain in her ass. She squealed like a pig, but somehow this time stayed down, trembling. The third stroke felt as if it was cutting her in two.
Proby’s voice penetrated the mists of pain. “You may stand up and replace your shorts.” She struggled to her feet and pulled her shorts and knickers back up. With that top button torn off, the shorts would only stay up with her holding them up. Her bottom felt as if she was sitting on hot coals, but even more she felt the incredible embarrassment that, as a fully-grown mature adult woman, she had just had her arse beaten as punishment for not obeying. Her tits were still fully on show, which was not helping her and again Proby was looking them over without even the least pretence of not doing so.
“You may put your top on and go,” he said at length.
Sue picked her bra up and with fumbling fingers put it on, hating that she was having to do this in front of him and having to keep her thighs pressed together to stop the button-less shorts from falling down, then she pulled her t-shirt back on and left the cabin. Rosie was waiting for her in the middle cabin; the other bodyguard was fast asleep. “Bad time?” she asked sympathetically, seeing the look on Sue’s face.
“I can’t believe what just happened back there,” Sue said, her voice croaky. Both of them spoke in little more than whispers to avoid waking the slumbering man.
“You’ll have to get used to things like that,” Rosie said as gently as she could. “Did you get whacked?” Sue hesitated, then nodded. “Let’s have a look,” Rosie said.
Sue glanced apprehensively towards the guard, but he was clearly sound asleep. She turned and lowered her shorts and knickers. Rosie took a close look. “Riding crop?” she asked. Sue nodded, too embarrassed to speak. “Lean over that seat,” Rosie said. “I’ve got some stuff I can put on it.”
Miserably, Sue did so. Rosie fished in a bag and came up with a bottle of clear liquid and some cotton wool. “Witch-hazel,” she explained. “It’ll sting a bit, but it’ll soon ease the pain. He didn’t prohibit you from treating it, did he?”
“No,” said Sue, finding her voice at last.
“He does sometimes, but not often,” Rosie said conversationally as she soaked some of the cotton wool with the liquid. “Hold still,” she cautioned and then dabbed it on one of the three clear red lines on Sue’s behind.
Sue gasped a little as her already burning bottom suddenly began to sting even more as Rosie gently pressed the cotton wool to it. “Ow,” she said ruefully.
“Hold still and don’t be such a wuss,” Rosie chided playfully.
Despite the situation, Sue managed to respond equally lightly. “What is that stuff, sulphuric acid?”
“Do you want a spoonful of sugar to go with it?” Rosie teased, moving on to the second welt.
“Just give me a machine gun and let me at those bastards,” Sue replied.
Rosie went serious. “Don’t say that,” she cautioned. “Don’t even think it. You need to really accept that they have every right to do this and a lot more. We can be flippant with each other, but never when talking about the master or any of the men. The sooner you can get that into your head, the b
etter for you, okay?”
“Okay, sorry,” Sue said reluctantly, wincing as Rosie dabbed more of the liquid onto the third welt. She could feel them separately and looking over her shoulder she could see the three marks standing out clearly. “God, I bet they glow in the dark,” she said, trying to lighten the mood once more.
“They’re only light ones, actually,” Rosie said factually. “They’ll be visible for a day or two, no more.”
Sue did not want to think what heavy ones would be like.
She rejoined her daughters, who thankfully didn’t ask about what had gone on. Sue didn’t want to talk about it, even though she knew they would both face similar ordeals themselves before too long. She could only hope that they would cope, but they were strong girls.
Bereft of the top button, her shorts would only stay up with her holding them, which she did as discretely as possible in case it raised any awkward questions. Sitting reminded her of her welted bum, but it was bearable. She told them the summary details of the arrangements about their council house, which they agreed with, neither of them having ever liked the place either and she spent the rest of the time emphasising the importance of the girls obeying the men. Mandy answered each time that she already knew that, whilst Charleen just nodded all the time.
Soon they were all fitfully sleeping as the plane droned on. They were still half asleep when it landed late at night in a small airfield back in Britain. Now shivering in their unseasonal shorts and t-shirts in the crisp January air, the three members of the Bingham family followed Rosie and the men from the small plane. Rosie, still in her scanty maid’s outfit, was also shivering. Evidently the airfield was private, because there were no customs or anything like that: a single, middle aged-man greeted their party as they went into the sole building. “Good to see you back safe and sound, Mr Proby,” he said fawningly in a strong Scots accent. “I see you’ve come back with more people than you left with.”
“I’m sure we can count on your usual discretion, Mr Thomas,” Proby said with assurance. “Naturally we will make arrangements for you to visit us again very soon.”
Thomas beamed. “That would be very nice, sir,” he agreed.
“Perhaps we should do a little something on account,” Proby added, and clicked his fingers. Rosie immediately stepped forward and Thomas’s grin intensified. He led her off into a side room. Proby sat down and began to read a newspaper, whilst the two big men unloaded a few suitcases and things from the plane into two waiting cars. Sue and her daughters had nothing to do but wait. Their wristwatches had long since been stolen in the early days of their captivity, but there was a wall clock which read ten o’clock when they arrived. The minute hand had moved on to quarter past when Rosie emerged, her face neutral, with Thomas who now looked slightly sheepish but well pleased. Proby folded his newspaper, was wished a very good evening by an ebullient Thomas and departed for the two cars with the Bingham family following.
“Did what I think just happened, happen?” whispered Charleen to her mother.
“I think so,” Sue said, whilst Mandy flashed a look at her younger sister which clearly said, “how old are you?”
The three family members rode with one of the beefy men in the second car, whilst Proby and Rosie were driven by the other big man. The journey lasted the best part of an hour and once again the tired females dozed as they drove through the night. They were only half awoken at the journey’s end when they were ushered into a large, old mansion house in masses of open ground. Rosie led them into the ornate house and showed them into a plush lounge. “Just crash out on the floor for now,” she said. “We’ll sort you out in the morning.”
But all three of them had already sunk onto the thick carpet and were asleep.
Chapter Two
Sue, Mandy and Charleen looked around their new living quarters with dismay.
It was a dungeon, pure and simple. There was no other word for it. It was a large, windowless, completely below ground cellar with a big cage in the middle. Inside the cage was a single bed and two more mattresses, with a basic pillow and a couple of blankets each. There were no sheets and the rough blankets would clearly be very itchy. At the one end of the cage was a toilet with no privacy screen, a shower and a washbasin. At the other end was the bed and mattresses, and in the middle was a dressing table with a big mirror and a second full-length mirror, brushes and combs and very well stocked with beauty aids. There was nothing else and as the two extra mattresses were clearly recent additions they made it somewhat cramped. The only positive point was that it was warm, which was because of the large boiler in a corner of the cellar, outside the cage, which evidently powered the central heating for the very large mansion house they were in.
“Not exactly the Ritz,” Mandy said with grim understatement.
“It’s to encourage you to move up the slave levels,” explained Rosie, who had led them down here. “Once you reach Level Two, you’ll be moved into the standard slave quarters. They’re still a bit basic, but a whole lot better than here.”
“How long will it take us to reach that level?” Sue asked.
“It depends on you, but it’s not easy at first. Getting used to submitting ... it takes some doing to get your head around it.”
“We’ll have to get there quick,” said Mandy, looking around her. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to.”
“If you take your clothes off, I’ll take them to the laundry,” Rosie said, deliberately changing the subject. The Bingham family’s outfits had been worn continuously since their kidnapping and were considerably ripe. As they peeled them off, Rosie went on, “you’ll find some spare underwear in the cell; slaves don’t wear much more than undies when off duty. We’ll measure you up for your uniforms, meanwhile I’ll get your clothes washed for this afternoon.”
“What happens then?” Charleen asked.
“That’s when you have your appointments to submit yourselves formally to the master.”
It went very quiet. Then Mandy asked, without her usual firmness, “what does that involve?”
Rosie became slightly evasive. “You’ll see,” was all she said.
It became quieter still. All three Binghams seemed to become preoccupied with finding bras and knickers which fitted out of the substantial supply in the cell. Rosie took the opportunity to unceremoniously depart, having closed the cell door. The door clicked loudly as it closed and all three were aware that it had automatically locked, leaving them incarcerated, but none of them wanted to say anything. At last Mandy, having found undies that fitted, tried to change the subject. “Is it OK if I use the shower first?” He sister and mother nodded. Mandy stepped into the shower unit and studied the controls. “There’s just an on/off switch,” she said. “Where’s the temperature control?”
The other two came over and looked. Finally, Sue said, “there isn’t one. I think its cold water only.”
Mandy gritted her teeth and turned her knob, then gasped as freezing water jetted onto her nude body.
Rosie returned a couple of hours later, around noon according to the large clock on the dungeon wall outside their cell. She was equipped with a tape measure and spent some time making and noting down their measurements. She also brought replacement shorts and t-shirts for all three of them, which they gratefully donned, after which she took them upstairs to a dining room where they were able to eat their first decent meal in days. Then she took them back down to their cell and locked them in once more.
“I’ll be back this afternoon to take you for your interviews with the master,” she said. “He’s not an early riser, so it won’t be until after he’s had lunch.”
“Interviews?” Charleen asked anxiously.
Rosie nodded. “Each of you will be required to make your submission to him. At the end of it, you should each be a Level One slave.”
“W
hat will we have to do?” Sue asked.
Rosie hesitated. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you,” she said. “But to become a Level One slave you have to surrender yourself in the three most basic ways. You work it out.” Again ignoring their nervous pleas for more information, she left them once more.
The next few hours dragged interminably by in complete silence. Nobody wanted to speak, to openly speculate, to say anything. Each just lay on her mattress or bed - Sue had ended up with the bed, by unspoken agreement - staring at the ceiling or trying unsuccessfully to sleep.
At long last they heard the door to the cellar open and Rosie came down the stairs. She opened the cell door and produced three sets of handcuffs. “Turn around and put your wrists together behind your backs,” she told them.
“That’s not necessary, we’ll co-operate,” said Mandy quietly.
“Nobody said you wouldn’t, but it’s instructions,” Rosie replied. “You need to learn just to do what you get told.” So they obeyed mutely and each in turn felt the cold steel around their wrists and the click as the cuffs locked. Rosie led them back upstairs. They passed a large double door. “That’s the door to the master’s main lounge and study,” Rosie said. “That’s where he normally hangs out and also where he entertains guests. But slaves are not allowed in there clothed, so I’ve got to take you to his office instead.”
“Not allowed in there clothed?” Charleen asked.
“No. If you’re wearing clothes, you have to remove them before you go in.”
Charleen looked as though she wanted to query the word “if” as well, but she evidently decided against it. Around the next corner was a bench. Rosie told Mandy and Charleen to sit down. There was a rail running along the wall, from which came a couple of very short chains. Rosie produced two small padlocks and locked Mandy’s handcuffs to the one chain and Charleen’s to the other. Neither could now rise from the bench. Now Rosie produced two ball gags. “Open your mouth, Mandy,” she ordered and as the older sister miserably did so the ball was thrust into her mouth. Rosie secured the strap behind Mandy’s neck and then repeated the task with Charleen. With their hands locked as they were, neither girl could remove their gag. Coherent speech was no longer possible.