By Kinkabella
Archived Here With Her Kind Permission

Part 41 - A Shock For Sandy

I heard the front door unlock and a short while later, Mr. West's voice through the intercom affirmed he was home again. He called me to the room where I had chained the new slave. After having sat for so long, my ass was a little numb and I had almost become accustomed to the butt plug, but walking while wearing it instantly drew my attention to it. Each step caused the plug to shift slightly in my ass, sort of like being slowly fucked in the ass while I walked.

Mr. West asked me who the girl was and I explained she had volunteered to be a slave while he was out. He then asked to see the girl's file and I returned to the office; the butt plug grinding between my ass cheeks and in my ass with every quick step I took there and back.

"Where is her sworn statement? And the result of her drug screen? And why was she not stripped and gagged? Where is her 'right of first refusal' contract or the waiver for it?" Mr. West asked.

Any sense of accomplishment I felt about processing the girl evaporated as Mr. West highlighted things I had forgotten to do.

"Ah, well, you see, she distracted me by going on and on and I, well, forgot." I said. The guilt I felt balled into a lump in my throat.

"What you mean is you didn't read the manual I printed off for you. What, exactly am I going to find, if I watch the video of before she arrived? You reading your instructions, or something else?"

I blushed and struggled to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Speak up!" Mr. West said. He sounded even more annoyed and impatient with me.

"Something else..."

"And that would be?"

I glanced at the girl chained in the corner. She was now gagged and couldn't say anything, but she was starting at me.

"OK, I masturbated! I thought about you fucking me, then some one else fucking me, and both of you fucking me, one in my pussy and one in my ass and I was just about to cum when this... young women ... showed up at the door."

My neck and ears were first to feel the effect of a burning sensation; the feeling of embarrassment spreading to eventually flush my whole face.

"OK, let's see what we can do about this then. Check her purse and see if she brought a statement."

I kneeled on the floor in front of the girl and turned out the contents of her purse. Among the tampons and breath mints and loose coins was a small address book - a pink cover with a picture of a Teddy Bear holding a heart-shaped balloon on a string - and a piece of paper roughly folded into a small square. I unraveled it and passed it to Mr. West.

"Is this the form you needed?"

Mr. West glanced over it and then nodded.

"Yeah, that's it. Strip her and bring her into the office so we can do the rest of this. Then we are going to talk about your failures and the punishments those are going to bring."

I immediately stood up again and reached for the hem of the girl's sweater. She held up her arms so I could remove it over her head; her breasts were large and rock-solid firm and the tell-tale signs of light scarring around her flat, slightly misshapen nipples suggested implant surgery. After I unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, I noticed a tattoo - a decorative Celtic scroll just above her smooth, hairless mound of Venus. She wriggled her hips to assist the removal of her jeans; she wore no underwear and was soon completely naked.

"This way," I said, giving the girl a gentle push on her shoulder to start her walking. Mr. West was reading over some papers in the office when we got there.

"OK, nameless slave, I need you to piss in this cup to see if you get to stay a slave or if I have to let you go."

The girl took the cup and pressed it up between her thighs.

"No! You stupid cunt! Go in the bath room!" Mr. West pointed at the open door leading to the rest room between the office and his bedroom.

Mr. West rolled his eyes and mumbled something about the girl being stupid and then typed a few things into the computer. He printed out a form. The girl returned with a cup, almost filled to the brim, of light colored pee. After placing it carefully on the desk, she slumped down into a chair, rested her elbows on the arms of it and interlocked her fingers over her stomach.

Mr. West then performed a number of tests on eye-dropper amounts of her pee and had her fill in a few more forms. After satisfying himself with these, and questioning the girl about a couple of things, he phoned a person she said would buy her. Mr. West made a phone call and discussed the girl with somebody and finished by saying, "Ok, see you soon!"

"Ingrid, take her back into the room you had her. Put this DVD in the player, I want her to watch it. I want you to watch it as well. It's the one about those girls I told you about on the 4th of July."

Once the DVD started playing the screen was filled with the image of a fresh-faced young girl, not unlike Sandy sitting beside me except with curly blonde hair instead of straight. She was tied to a chair; her arms drawn back behind it and her ankles tethered with dirty, coarse ropes to the front legs of the chair. Her face was flushed bright red and the blue swollen lines of veins in her temples and throat were clearly visible. Her mouth appeared to be stuffed full with something and she was gagged, but the look of terror and desperation was clear and unmistakable.

She looked like she was in a garage or work shed; concrete block walls and the exposed wooden beams of a pitched roof above. There was a man and a woman also there. The man was quite grotesque, with fat rounded shoulders that were matted with thick, curly hair that grew right up his neck and expanded into a dense mop of greasy blackness. His sweatshirt, emblazoned with the image of a marijuana leaf, was filthy and torn and it was all he was wearing. His legs, as hairy as his arms and shoulders, seemed unnaturally thin compared to the voluminous mass of his large gut. The woman with him kneeled at his feet and hungrily sucked at his smallish cock.

I watched for a while without being overly interested in the scene. I already had a feeling I knew what was coming because the little red light on the front of the struggling girl's snuff collar was glowing a constant red and not blinking, as they usually did when they were in their 'safe-secure' mode. I hugged my knees and rested my forehead on them; listening and feeling slightly sickened by the sounds coming from the television. The new slave sitting beside me was totally silent, until the 'bang', and she suddenly jumped back and started screaming through her gag. I didn't have to look, and didn't.

The girl became so hysterical I could barely hear Mr. West's voice when it came over the intercom. There was somebody at the front door and he sent me to see who it was.

It was a young boy, maybe eighteen or nineteen, dressed in oversized baggy trousers and basketball shirt. His short hair was untidy and gelled back off his forehead, making it stick up in an almost laughable way as if he'd been standing in a wind tunnel or come here on the back of a motorbike. I ushered him into Mr. West's office without saying much. He prattled about something, just as his little friend had done when I took her to the office, but I ignored him just as I had ignored her.

"OK John, here is the papers for you to sign..."

Mr. West had the boy sign a few things and discussed a few details of his contract.

"Ingrid, please bring John's slave in here," Mr. West said.

I returned to the other room and was just about to step through the door when I felt a sudden jolt of electricity through my body. I shrieked loudly and was momentarily stunned. The shock had come from my collar, so I knew it wasn't any invisible fence blocking me from entering the room, but still I was a bit confused as to why it had gone off.

"There's somebody here to collect you," I said to the girl.

She sat, eyes wide and unblinking, curled up in a fetal position in the corner of the room, and refused to move until I assured her it was 'John' - her friend, obviously. When she did finally move, I saw a dark, wet stain on the carpet where she'd obviously peed herself. I might have shown her a little sympathy, if she wasn't such an empty-headed simpleton. Once she was standing I was able to handcuff her wrists behind her back, after which I led her back to the office where Mr. West and 'Aero-Gel John' were waiting.

"Enjoy your new slave. Here is her key, and we are going to throw in the ball gag for free," Mr. West said to the couple.

Mr. West had me escort them to the door. Thankfully the boy's attention was now fully on his new slave and he didn't even say 'bye' or 'thanks' after I let them out of the house.

"Good-riddance," I laughed to myself after closing the door behind them.

When I returned to the office, Mr. West removed my bomb collar, and I quietly thanked him for doing so. I lightly touched my neck where it had been, just to reassure myself it was no longer there.

"Go get the other two girls collars, they came off when yours did. Then go out a back and check on Jen, When you are done come back here, we need to talk about your failures today and what we are going to do about them."

I did as I was told quite happily, but the way Mr. West had said 'we need to talk about your failures today' still rang loudly in my ears and made me feel uneasy.

Jen was in the back yard tied to a tree; a high-pressure sprinkler blasting intermittent streams of cold water directly up between her spread legs. I felt a bit sorry for Jen, but I dared not get too close because there was an army of red ants scurrying all over her - especially on her breasts, which were manifestly swollen with angry red bite marks. Jen had a distant, far-away kind of look in her eye that made it difficult to tell whether she was either thoroughly exhausted from the agony she suffered, or in a delirious state of abject bliss.