by Ian Smith
“Resume your position.” His voice was remorseless, an authority beyond question. Mandy struggled back into place, opening her legs once more, waiting for the second stroke.
Thwack!
“Ooooooohhhh!”
She gasped louder this time, but somehow held herself in place.
“Good.” He actually sounded pleased. “Last one.” Mandy steeled herself.
Thwack!
“Aahhhhh!”
The stroke added fresh fires to the burning pain, but Mandy held herself in place once more.
He moved round to the back of the desk and settled down in his swivel chair once more. “Stand up,” he ordered.
Mandy straightened herself, bringing her legs back closer together but for whatever reason not completely closing them. Perhaps it was the throbbing pain between them which she did not want to aggravate, or perhaps she did not want to be ordered to open them once more. Once again she felt his eyes roving over her naked body. The pain distracted her partially from the embarrassment, but not entirely.
“Of course,” he said, his voice velvet smooth once more, “there are other far more painful instruments and torments that you will need to endure later, but this will do for an introduction. You will find yourself able to take more as time goes on.” Mandy shuddered at the thought. “Still, you did well enough for a first time. This is, after all, only a test of basic submission.”
“Thank you, master.” Was that an automatic politeness on her part, or was she truly appreciative of the compliment? Mandy’s mind was far too distracted to work it out right now. She was once more acutely aware of her nudity, which had been less of an issue whilst she was being spanked and flogged. She was also trying, in addition to the throbbing sting, to avoid visualising harder beatings.
“So we may take the second of your three submissions as accomplished,” he went on. “Now, tell me, what do you imagine the third basic submission to be? We have had humiliation and discipline, what is the other fundamental way in which you as a slave must submit?”
There could only be one answer. “Sex, master.”
He shrugged. “Correct general area, but elaborate.”
Mandy tried to marshal her thoughts, trying to screen out her nudity and the stinging of her behind and between her legs. “I need to ... show that I am prepared to use my body to please you, in every way I can,” she offered.
“Good. Reflect on that.” He pushed an intercom button on his desk. “Joe, please come to the office,” he said into it.
Mandy stood, bewildered. Was she going to be made to fuck both of them? Or one while the other watched?
After only half a minute or so, there was a knock on the door. Proby called for the person to come in and the young bodyguard Joe entered. Mandy became even more acutely aware of her nudity, but she forced herself to stay still, her hands rigidly by her sides. She knew he would be very angry if she covered herself up.
Proby spoke to her. “You have a date with me this evening at eight,” he informed her. I will be sending the girls to you at six to get you ready. Reflect on what you have just said: that will be the third and final part of your submission, at the end of which, if you behave satisfactorily, you will be a Level One slave. Meanwhile I think it’s about time I turned my attentions to your little sister.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to Joe. “Take her back down to their cell, then tell Rosie to bring the other one in. You can take her underwear with you.”
“Yes, Mr Proby.” Joe picked up Mandy’s discarded bra and panties and indicated her to precede him out of the door. Proby had turned his attention back to the computer and ignored Mandy completely. Slightly stunned by the turn of events, Mandy padded out of the room. Joe followed her out and closed the door. “Go right,” he ordered. The corridor to the left led back to where Charleen would be waiting, so Mandy would not see her sister. She walked ahead, aware of Joe’s hot eyes on her naked rump as he directed her along.
“In case you’re wondering, slave, all of us men get to enjoy your charms regularly,” he taunted her.
“Yes, sir,” Mandy said. No other answer was possible. She remembered, somehow, Rosie’s comment that only Proby was to be addressed as ‘master’.
“Did you know that?”
“No sir, but I do now.” She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of showing any emotion. He and his friend were much younger than Proby, maybe late twenties, but she didn’t fancy either of them in the slightest. What she wanted, however, no longer seemed relevant.
They went down the stairs into the cellar. Mandy’s mum, now dressed in her bra and panties, was waiting in the cell. Joe unlocked the cage door and Mandy, still naked, was ushered inside. The cage door was locked behind her and only then did Joe hand her underwear back to her through the bars. “If the girls are coming to you for six, have a shower first,” he told her, his eyes on her nude body.
“Yes, sir,” said Mandy. He turned and left. Wearily, she put her bra and panties back on and sat silently down on her mattress.
Her mother came quietly over to her, sat down beside her and put her arm around her daughter’s bare shoulder. “So now we’re both Level One slaves,” she observed gently.
For a moment Mandy was on the edge of tears, but then she recovered. “I’m not quite there yet,” she said flatly. “I’ve got a date with him tonight to do the last bit.”
“Oh,” said Sue.
“I didn’t baulk at it,” Mandy said defensively. “He just took me to the point of it and then dismissed me.” She thought for a moment. “But you?”
Sue wanted to avoid the subject, but she knew it was best for Mandy if she didn’t. “On the office carpet,” she said as wryly as she could manage.
Mandy wanted to make a sour comment, but she was too tired. The mind games upstairs had worn her out. Instead, she just said, “presumably he didn’t want to eat all his nice fresh cakes in one go. I wonder what he’ll do with Charlie?”
Sue didn’t want to think about that.
Charleen stood in front of Proby’s desk in her shorts and t-shirt. If Mandy had been extremely nervous, her younger sister was physically shaking, unable to keep still and struggling not to be sick.
The waiting after their mum had been taken had been bad enough, but, after Mandy too was taken away and Charleen left on her own, it got even worse. She’d been waiting twice as long as Mandy in total as well. In addition she was naturally shyer than her sister. No boy had ever seen her undressed or even close to it: even on holiday she preferred to wear a one-piece swimsuit on the beach instead of a bikini.
And now Proby was ignoring her, leaving her standing in front of his desk whilst he conferred with another even older man who he called Forsythe. This man seemed to act as a butler and personal assistant to Proby, and addressed him with utmost deference.
They finished their conversation, but Proby did not dismiss the older man. Instead he turned to Charlie, settling back comfortably in his chair. Charlie shuddered under his gaze. Forsythe stood discreetly to one side, watching Charlie thoughtfully but silently.
“You know why you are here?” Proby asked sharply.
“I think so, sir - I mean, master,” Charlie hastily corrected herself.
“Explain it, then.”
She took a deep breath and spoke in a quavering voice. “I’m here to submit myself as a slave to you.”
“Indeed. Well, let’s see what we are dealing with. Remove your clothes. All of them.”
The words hit Charlie like a tidal wave. She almost staggered backwards. Hesitantly, she grasped the hem of her t-shirt, just (although she didn’t know this) as her sister had done an hour ago. But she could not lift it up. She froze, like a rabbit in the approaching headlights of a truck.
“I’m waiting,” Proby said, his voice silky with menace.
<
br /> Charlie glanced from the one man to the other, then tried to make herself take the t-shirt off, but she just could not. It was as if the hem weighed a ton, or was glued to her.
“I ... I can’t!” she gasped.
Proby raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Forsythe coughed discreetly. “Would you like me to remove her clothes for you, sir?” he asked Proby. “Or perhaps hold her while you do it?”
Miserably, Charlie looked at him. She was telling herself she would not run if they came for her. Actually, with her legs like jelly as they were, it was all she could do to keep standing up.
“No, I don’t think so,” Proby answered Forsythe, then he spoke to Charlie. “So you are not going to submit to slavery?”
“I want to, I mean I will do,” wailed Charlie, “I just ... give me a second.” She took a couple of deep breaths, then tried to start again, but she could not. Suddenly she burst into tears, burying her head in her hands.
“Stand up straight, girl, and put your hands by your sides!” Proby snapped at her.
Charlie made herself obey. The tears were running down her cheeks, but she choked back the sobs and held herself silently.
“On second thoughts, put your hands on your head,” Proby said.
Again Charlie obeyed immediately, interlocking her fingers on the top of her head. At least she’d made herself obey that order. Proby looked satisfied, with that at least.
“I take it,” he said, his voice silky once more, “that you are not keen on showing us the luscious charms of that eighteen year-old body of yours?”
“I ... no, master,” Charlie managed.
“And yet you say you are going to submit to being a slave. You cannot choose which orders you obey.” He was almost gentle, though he remained fully in control of the situation.
“I ... know, master. I promise I will get there. It’s just ... all this has happened so fast. I can’t get my head around it. But I will do!”
“And I am supposed to wait until you feel like doing what you are told?”
Charlie stayed at attention, but seemed to slump. “I’m sorry, master,” she offered contritely.
“You realise that you will be required to do far more difficult things than merely stripping yourself naked? This is not a good start.”
“I know, master. It’s just ... I’ve always had a phobia about taking my clothes off.”
“So you think you will manage everything else easily?”
“Not easily, master, but ... I will do it all in the end.”
“You use the word ‘master’ very glibly. I wonder if you really appreciate what it means.”
Charlie took a breath. “Not yet, master, not really, I know I don’t. But I will!”
Her determination seemed to impress him a little. He pondered for a moment, and then turned back to Forsythe and resumed their earlier conversation. Charlie was completely ignored. She made herself remain standing as he had directed; even if she couldn’t take her clothes off for him yet, she would carry out his other instructions.
The conversation went on for some time, with Forsythe taking notes. It seemed to be some sort of arrangements for guests coming this weekend. Charlie listened with dismay: it was very clear that the slaves would be amongst the entertainments for the visitors, who were all male - she heard four names mentioned. It was now Tuesday, apparently - they had lost track during their captivity in the jungle - and these men would be arriving some on Friday evening and some on Saturday morning. She also gathered, finding this out for the first time, that there were a total of four men permanently at the house, which would be Proby, Forsythe and the two who had acted as bodyguards in Africa, Joe and Fred; and there were three slaves, Rosie being the only one she had met, plus two others called Erica and Nicky, plus now herself, her sister and her mum.
The conversation finished once more and it looked as if Proby was about to go somewhere else. Forsythe indicated Charlie. “What would you like me to do with her, Mr Proby?”
Proby looked at Charlie, who could only hang her head in shame, and considered for a moment. Then he said, “take her back to the dungeon as she is. Bring her back here tomorrow at ten in the morning.”
“Yes, Mr Proby,” Forsythe said politely, and then rather more roughly to Charlie, “come on, you: this way.”
He led Charlie out of the room and back towards the steps to the cellar.
Mandy’s first question when Charleen was returned to the cell, of course, was why the younger sister was still fully dressed. Shame-facedly, Charlie had to admit that she’d failed the interview. She then collapsed in floods of tears into her mother’s arms. Mandy made a few acidic comments until Sue told her to lay off.
At five in the evening, Rosie came to release them from their cell and take them to the canteen for evening meal. There they met the other two slave girls, Nicola and Erica. Both were drop-dead gorgeous, real glamour girls; in fact, Erica apparently had serious modelling ambitions and Nicky could have easily made it in that field as well. Erica, like Rosie, was a Level Two slave, whilst Nicky was Level Three. Both were around twenty-one years old or so. Erica was a blonde whilst Nicky had brown hair; Erica had a classic hourglass figure whilst Nicky was clearly an athlete. Both, like Rosie, wore maid’s uniforms, short-skirted and low cut, but all three uniforms had subtle differences, showing their beautiful bodies off in different ways. Mandy and Charleen were clearly intimidated by Erica and Nicky’s beauty and even Sue felt a little in awe despite her greater maturity. In fairness, Nicky was bright and breezy and easy to like, though Erica, whilst polite, was more withdrawn and less sociable.
At six they were returned to the cell. Mandy, on Rosie’s instructions, immediately braved the freezing shower for a long scrub. At half six Rosie, Nicky and Erica all arrived and began to work intensely on Mandy, giving her a real beauty makeover from head to feet.
Sue watched in silence, sitting pensively on her bed. Her own first sexual coupling with Mr Proby this afternoon had been far less sculpted: having stripped herself naked before him and with her bottom still stinging from the lengthy attentions of his hand and a strap, she had been ordered to lie down on the office carpet and he, after also stripping and putting on a condom, had given her a fairly brutal fucking. She could only hope he would be gentler with her daughter, but in the canteen Rosie had quietly told her that he took different approaches to sex as the mood took him.
To be truthful, the fucking had not left Sue unmoved. As a busy single parent of two teenage girls and still smarting more than slightly from her divorce, it had been some time since her last sexual encounter. As he thrust powerfully into her, Sue’s hands and feet had grasped the carpet almost like a cat being stroked, though his attentions had been much rougher than any cat would put up with. She hadn’t wanted this coupling and even afterwards she would rather not have had the experience of it, but even so ...
She also found it hard not to be slightly jealous of the attention being paid to her pretty elder daughter. Sat before the mirror dressed in just the lacy bra and panties that Rosie had brought with her, Mandy was getting her hair done, her face made up, her legs freshly shaved and her nails painted. Erica, clearly having professional knowledge, directed the operation and Nicky and Rosie were able assistants. Mandy herself was enjoying the attention, as any young woman would, but was also clearly apprehensive and unenthusiastic about the coming evening and more than somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by it as well. It perhaps helped, Sue suspected, that Mandy would know that Rosie, Nicky and Erica had all gone through the same experience themselves, but if so, it only helped a little.
Sue transferred her gaze to her younger daughter. Still wearing the shorts and t-shirt, Charlie was lying on her mattress, staring up at the ceiling and apparently ignoring the process that was being carried out on her sister. If Sue had been fretting about Charlie before this a
fternoon, her fears had anything increased after she came back from her ‘interview’ untouched. Sue knew full well that Charlie was shy about her body, but she also knew that Charlie would find sex and other graphic acts with older men particularly hard, though of course Charlie’s entire reaction to any sort of sexual congress was as yet unknown. Sue knew that Charlie could be very determined, but was not tough like her sister. Despite Charlie’s insistence that she could cope with all this, Sue was not so sure, but she was completely helpless. She couldn’t even control her own situation, let alone her daughter’s.
After an hour of working on Mandy, the three experienced slaves had finished. Rosie produced sheer dark stockings with hold-up tops which Mandy put on, along with elegant black stiletto shoes and then finally a lovely dark purple velvet evening gown which, so as not to disturb her hair, Mandy had to step into and was then zipped up. It was off the shoulders, showing off her cleavage without being graphic or slutty, then hugged and beautifully displayed her figure before swirling mistily around her legs and coming down to her lower calves, allowing just a slight peek of the stockings.
Charlie was sat up on her mattress now, all pretence of ignoring the situation gone. “Sis, you look stunning,” she said with evident honesty.
“Oh, shut up,” Mandy said, her irritation betraying her nervousness. “Just learn to get your kit off when it’s needed.”
Charleen went red. “OK, yes I bottled it today, but I’ll get there in the end, I swear I will,” she said defensively.
“Yeah, then maybe it’ll be you getting tarted up tomorrow night,” said Mandy bitterly.
“You don’t look tarted up, you look fantastic,” Charlie returned.
“Whatever,” Mandy said shortly. Then to Rosie and the other two: “come on then, let’s get this over with.”
Erica took a final quick check and then Rosie opened the cell door and the three established slaves led Mandy out. “Don’t wait up,” Mandy said to her mum with gallows humour as she was led out.