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Message-ID: <31387asstr$994914603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: tmquin@NS_attglobal.net (Thomas M Quin)
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS}"Christmas Boxes" Pt2 (MFF/FF, NC, BDSM, Kidnap, Suspension)
Date: Thu, 12 Jul 2001 01:10:03 -0400
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STANDARD DISCLAIMER ===================


The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet.  If it
is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the
author.


The author explicitly prohibits.


1) The posting of this story in an incomplete form.


2) The use of this story in a larger work without his express
permission.


3) The use of this story on any CD, BBS or Website without the
written permission of the author.


This work is copyright TM Quin 1999.


All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to
persons living or dead is purely coincidental.  The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.


Quin 1999 tmquin@ibm.net
*****************************************************************

				Christmas Boxes By Quin
				====================

Chapter 2 : "Angel"
===============

The whip lashed out catching Nancy straight between the folds of her
sex. The girl stiffened and a muffled scream emerged from her gagged
mouth. I stopped, gathered in the whip and then walked around my
slave's naked body, as if I was considering some new canvas. Nancy,
naked but for a pair of high heels and her bonds, had been tied
standing spread eagle in the middle of my basement studio. The bonds
were tight, very tight, and she could barely wiggle. I walked back
around to the front noticing the welts on her breasts and belly as
well as the redness of her sex. She trembled with anticipation, I
prolonged her torture by walking behind her again. On her back were
the crisscrossing lines the whip had written into her bare flesh.
Glancing down to her reddened ass I considered my handiwork. On
Nancy's right buttock I had tattooed my mark of ownership, my symbol.
This was not some fancy ego trip like that thing Prince dreamed up a
few years ago. This was the stylized icon I'd used to sign my
canvasses and sculptures since my earliest days. My mark, my symbol of
creation and artistic ownership. With this symbol Nancy was marked as
my creation and my property. She was also the first. So to commemorate
this I'd tattooed a stylized number "1" on her other buttock. She was
my first slave, my first girl. I let my hand caress my mark before
walking around and facing her again.

Nancy moaned and looked up at me with wild, begging eyes. Her naked
body was covered in sweat, her long blonde hair glued to her head. A
muffled begging sound emerged from her cherry lips, somehow fighting
its way past the large color coordinated ball gag I'd stuffed into her
mouth earlier..

"Mmmmffff," she begged, eyes wide and when I made no move she upped
the intensity of her struggles forcing her hairless crotch towards me,
wiggling her hips in open invitation.

The whip sang again and when the blow fell Nancy closed her eyes and
let out a muffled groan of pleasure.

I smiled, the whip was especially designed to not break the skin or
leave a permanent mark, however its sting was still effective and
Nancy adored its not so gentle caress. Nancy loved it all right. A
good whipping was foreplay almost guaranteed to leave her hot and
panting and there had been times where she had cum from a whipping
alone. Not today though, my erect cock wanted Nancy's damp cunt far
too much for her to get an orgasm for free. By now she was almost
trembling with desire. The muffled invitation came again, this time
accompanied by bedroom eyes and a more energetic wiggling of the hips.

Yes, Nancy was hot and I for one was not about to deny her. Stepping
up to her suspended form I plunged my cock directly into her ravaged
hole. The nerve endings, already sensitized by the whip, sent their
message and Nancy's cunt clamped down like a vice. Grabbing her body I
thrust in harder, brutally raping her sensitive cunt while her groans
of pain and pleasure filled my ears.... We came together in the same
long powerful orgasm I had come to expect in the past year.

 Nancy was one hot fuck, I had never known a woman like her for that.
Even back in that Aussie bar I'd known there was something different
about her. I had smuggled her back to the States with every intention
of breaking her, of crushing her will any way I could to make her
mine. Whips, clamps and the most incredible torture devices had been
prepared and if they failed, medical experts were on standby ready to
burn my dominion into Nancy's brain with drugs, hypnosis and if
necessary surgery. 

And all of it proved unnecessary. In just a few days we had discovered
Nancy's true submissive nature. I don't know which of us had been more
surprised by Nancy's need to be controlled. She, I know, had never
suspected her true nature, but the long hard orgasms that came with
the pain and the bondage soon changed Nancy's mind. In under a year my
slave was unrecognizable, gone was the tough little Aussie bitch we'd
snatched from a Sidney bar. In her place was the perfect slave,
loving, loyal, completely dedicated to her master's happiness and
contentment. If I asked her to go down on another guy -- no problem,
though she would look at me with those loving eyes as she fucked him.
Do another girl? Nancy was not a lesbian but if that was what I wanted
she would happily lick slit. I wasn't interested in children or
animals, but just about every other perversion I could think of had
been acted out in that year.

 To recognize that she had given herself to me, I had relented and let
her keep her real name rather than calling her "slut."  Besides it was
more practical, with four cells left to fill I could hardly give my
girls descriptive names like "slut" or "cunt" it would be far too
confusing. So far the other cells were empty though that was a
situation I intended to change soon.

I trusted Nancy enough to take her places and she had been my partner
at a number of gallery openings and celebrity diners. She had worn a
mask of course, but then in public all my girls did. It had started as
a protest against the paparazzi when Diana was killed. Oh they could
have their pictures, but the identity of my lady friends was my
secret. I was not having anyone hounded by the press just because she
was associated with me. Of course the press hated it, large numbers of
color supplement pictures marked "Magus and an unknown woman" did not
have the salacious impact and gossip value of  Magus and a celebrity
seen out together. In the end though even they accepted it.  It had
become part of my eccentric behavior, like the anachronistic garb and
the showmanship. 

However all those pictures had an unexpected effect. Soon wearing
masks to parties and raves had become a fashion statement and required
club wear for fashion conscious kids. Masks based on my designs were
already appearing in accessory shops up and down the country.

Still with Nancy the masks had become very useful. After all Nancy was
technically an illegal alien, there was no way I'd walked a bound and
gagged girl through immigration.

Nancy hung from her wrist ropes panting for breath. Taking a knife I
cut her down. Though her hands were now free she made no attempt to
remove the gag, that was her Master's prerogative.

I signaled her to bend down, gently unfastened the strap and removed
the ball from her mouth.

"Was that good slut?"

Her eyes sparkled, "Oh yes Master, your slave is very happy."

I kissed her long and hard then slapped her bottom. "Time to shower
and change my little slut, we have to go to New York for a Christmas
party remember?"

Nancy smiled, she loved parties. She did a little dance of joy then
gave me a peck on the cheek and headed towards her cell to collect
some clothes. I found I was suddenly hard again. Not that that was a
problem, after all it was a long flight to New York.

#################################################################

It was snowing when we landed. Growing up in the Midwest I'm fairly
ambivalent about snow, I've always figured that Bing Crosby probably
wouldn't have been dreaming of a white Christmas if he'd been forced
to clear his own drive. Still, it reduced the number of reporters that
had come to meet us. I hate the in your face attitude of the press
these days, like just because you were a celebrity they owned you or
something.  I did a couple of interviews explained what I was going to
be doing for the next few days and slipped happily into the waiting
limo.

Nancy was already waiting for me inside, wearing a latex party dress,
long hooded cloak and of course a mask. In this case the mask was one
of my special creations, a Christmas gift for my number one girl. It
was made from fine white porcelain modeled into the shape of a
stylized oriental woman's face. Most of the mask was white except the
lips that were painted a bright red and some blue makeup around the
eye holes. As the car pulled away I looked at her, taking in the
painted porcelain features and she looked back, eyes sparkling. For a
second neither of us spoke, I waited for her to say something but it
just didn't happen. Then it dawned on me that her hands were hidden in
the cloak and a second explanation for her silence sprang to mind.
Reaching forwards I removed the mask. As I suspected a large red ball
gag filled Nancy's mouth, she chewed on it and moaned her eyes
sparkling. I slipped my hands into the folds of her cloak to find her
wrists fastened behind her with handcuffs. Yes, my little Nancy loved
being my slave all right, she loved it so much she tied herself up for
me. Smiling I removed the gag and forced her to her knees in front of
me. She knew immediately what to do and started to unbutton my fly
with her teeth. By the time we hit the highway my cock was deep inside
her warm, gentle mouth getting the blow job of the century. She
continued carefully for many minutes and soon we where in the heart of
Manhattan. As the limo stopped for lights and for the traffic people
looked in our direction. God I loved it, hidden behind the tinted
windows I was getting a blow job from my slave as the unknowing public
walked by.

She finished me off a few blocks from our destination, cleaning my
cock with her tongue before kneeling patiently with her mouth open
waiting to be gagged again. This time however she was disappointed.
Instead of replacing the gag I removed the handcuffs and put both in
her purse. 

"Why Master?" she asked raising a quizzical eyebrow.

I smiled. "Some of the photographers try and snatch the masks away.
Suppose one was successful and found you like that?"

She nodded. I handed her the Chinese mask again.

"Time to go."

Over the years I've bought a lot of businesses in New York. Some are
galleries and art appraisers and are directly connected with my work.
Others make some of the things I use or feel are important. My diverse
portfolio ensures that my empire will survive in some form even if the
fickle gods of fashion pass me by. Traditionally I've held a large
party every Christmas for my employees, a gala bash where they can
meet and mingle. Usually it's been a good show though I admit that the
previous year I hadn't been as good a host as usual. The vision of a
helpless Nancy waiting in her cell back in LA had been too strong and
I'd been impatient to get back to the west coast.

This year I'd decided to make up for my negligence. I'd hired
"Orlando's," one of Manhattan's most exclusive clubs, to act as a
venue for the party and arranged for a couple of top bands to provide
entertainment. If I had anything to say about it this party was going
to become legendary!

After several hours of hard partying I headed towards a back room that
had been laid aside as my private kingdom. My own people were
providing security and even the visiting celebrities only got in with
an invite. I'd had several offers from groupies of course but as these
people were also my employees I'd turned them all down. Only an idiot
fucks one of his own interns.

Still Nancy was more than willing to take up the slack. I shooed most
of the people outside and let my little Aussie slave go to work.
Smiling she hitched up the latex dress showing her shaved pussy and no
panties.  Then she knelt, her gloved fingers feeling for my fly
buttons.

Moaning I laid back and let her worship my cock with her skillful
mouth. The sensation was exquisite and in no time the stress of the
day just drifted away. I was kind of detached at that moment letting
my mind and my eyes wander. Then I noticed it, a faint movement of a
drape.  Somehow I managed to push Nancy aside and call Tiny.

As the big man made a beeline for the drape there was a sudden flurry
of movement. Most of it I missed but it was unimportant, Tiny as
always was on the job. There was a small scream and then Tiny walked
back into view with a struggling woman under one arm. Tiny put the
whimpering captive down, moving so that one of his arms pinned  hers
by her side while his free hand covered her mouth. The woman whimpered
again and pleaded behind the hand. She had stopped struggling,
realizing it was futile.

The noise had brought my inner circle to me. Weasel, Fetch and Kerry
piled through the door. Kerry, understanding the situation
immediately,  stepped back outside the door closing it behind her and
ensuring that no one else came in. The rest of us were left alone with
our "guest."

 I signaled Tiny to bring the captive into the light were we could
look her over. She stood about five foot four in the high heeled pumps
she was wearing and was dressed in the little PVC French maid's outfit
that the club used as a waitress uniform.  I guessed she weighed in at
around 125 pounds giving her a pleasing shape. I couldn't see much of
her head because of Tiny's arm but I got the impression of a black
latex mask covering the top of her face and a mass of strawberry
blonde hair. 

"If you are quiet he'll let you go," I said perching myself on the arm
of the couch.

I heard a faint sound and nodded to Tiny.

"What do you......ummmffff." She began before Tiny put his hand back.

I sighed, "Shall we try that again sweetheart?"

She nodded and this time when the hand away she kept quiet. Stepping
forwards I looked her over. The mask hid the top part of her face but
behind it two large, intelligent blue-green eyes peered out in a
mixture of fear and anger.

"Ok sweetheart, what were you doing back there?"

She licked her lips, " The bar sent me to collect glasses. Then you
came in and.... you know... I was too embarrassed to leave."

"Bullshit." I said. The girl went white.

"This part of the building is off limits to club staff tonight. The
bar wouldn't send you here for glasses. Why don't you tell us why
you're really here?"

"That is..." she started I nodded to Tiny and the hand returned,
"..ummmphhh."

I glanced towards the door. "Fetch, do you have your tool belt
nearby?" I asked. Fetch had come to New York a day early to help the
bands setup. I knew his tool belt wouldn't be far away. Fetch smiled
seeing my idea. Diving into a pile of equipment in the corner he
returned with the belt. It took me only a moment to find the long
steel ruler he kept there. I handed it to Nancy. 

"Sweetheart, why don't you explain to Frenchy here what happens to
people who dick us around."

Smiling Nancy took the ruler and walked over to the struggling woman.
It didn't take long for Nancy to pull one of the woman's tits free of
the PVC dress. The captive struggled and made pleading noises which
Nancy ignored. When  Nancy was ready she looked to me and I nodded. 

Swwwiishhh......ummmppphh!!! Nancy brought the ruler down hard on the
woman's exposed nipple. The woman jerked at the impact, screaming into
Tiny's hand. Her eyes were filling with tears then the second blow
fell and the third.

On the fifth stroke I signaled Nancy to stop and once the volume of
the sobbing had lessened I nodded to Tiny to remove his hand.

"Well?" I demanded.

"I told you...," the woman spat, "...... this is assault I
....umphhhh!"
Tiny had heard enough.

Weasel stepped out from behind the drape holding a small camera.
"Funny waitress," he said, "comes to collect glasses but brings a
camera instead of a tray."

I saw the woman's eyes widen and knew we had her.

Weasel held up a woman's purse. "Found it in here," he said, "along
with a tape recorder and a few other things."

I nodded towards Nancy and the whipping restarted. In the interim I
looked through the bag. The woman's driving license was in the name of
Hanna Leakey and gave her age at 37. Looking over at the struggling
figure I smiled, she had kept herself in good condition all of these
years hardly realizing she was doing it for my benefit.

I signaled Nancy to stop. My little slave seemed kind of turned on by
the whole experience something I stored away for later.

I signaled Tiny to remove his hand. This time Hanna didn't comment.

"So Hanna, want to rethink your story?" I asked.

"P.....please l...let me go... I won't tell anyone promise...."
I sighed. "That wasn't what I asked," I said and nodded to Nancy.

"N...no wait...." Hanna said. She took a deep breath.

"Look I admit it, I came here looking to get pictures of you and
someone famous."

"Why?"

She licked her lips, "I did my major in journalism but before I
finished school I met this guy... before I knew it we were married. I
dropped out, happy to be a housewife for a while. I had always
intended to go back to school but somehow I never found time. Then,
two years ago I found my husband was cheating with his secretary, so I
left him. I ended up working in hospital administration." 

She looked up her eyes full of tears, "I wanted to work in journalism
but I had no qualifications. Then I met someone who I used to be at
college with. He said that if I got one good candid photograph of a
celebrity then it could be my way back into the business. He said that
as you were so secretive I could name my own price if I got a picture
of you......"

"And the uniform?"

"One of the nurses I work with moonlights here as a waitress. She told
me you'd booked the whole place for a party, she said that you paid
good money but that she couldn't make it 'cos she had to go home for
Christmas." She swallowed, "I was desperate, I hate my job. I gave her
money to borrow her uniform while she was away then I sneaked in
through the employee's entrance.  I'm so, so sorry.... I won't tell
anyone about this I promise...."

"Quiet," I ordered. Hanna fell silent. "Seems to me that you
interrupted an intimate moment." I leered, "Now if you were to offer
to make up my loss in kind I might be tempted to let you go."

It took a moment for her to understand what I was asking. Then she
went white, "No please I couldn't...."

I shrugged, "Suit yourself. Gentlemen, remove the lady's uniform and
return it to the club. Then take her somewhere and dump her." I
smiled, "Harlem sounds good."

Hanna started to tremble. "B...but I'm naked under this."

I smiled, "Exactly!"

###########################################################

In the end of course she blew me, she really had no choice. While her
not so experienced mouth played with my rubber covered dick I had
chance to check out her purse. The address on her drivers license was
for a small apartment on the east side. I had looked at a place in the
same neighborhood while attending art school. One thing they all had
in common -- single people and couples only, no animals, no kids. Even
then I'd figured out that Hanna was going to be number two in my
collection, the only problem was how to collect her. It took quite a
while for Hanna to finish me off, her oral technique would certainly
need work if she was going to be my slave, still it gave me more time
to work out the details.

"Hanna?" 

The woman looked up.

"Loose the dress Hanna," I said, flashing her a hard smile.

She frowned. "You said I......" she began.

"It isn't your dress Hanna, while you were ...errr.. busy some of my
people checked with the management of the club. They'd like it back
before you leave."

"But I have nothing else to wear," she whimpered.

I shrugged, "That isn't my problem. However I'm not unreasonable. Is
there someone who could bring you a change of clothes? A boyfriend,
girlfriend... sister?"

She shook her head, "No one, I live alone and my parents moved to
Florida." 

"A co worker then, a friend?"

"Sorry, there really is no one. Please let me keep the dress. I'll
return it to the club first thing tomorrow." She was begging by now
and in response my dick was hardening far faster than it had in her
mouth.

"Take off the dress. Nancy, take yours off and give it to her. You can
wear your cloak back to the house."

Nancy, of course, immediately complied, stripping off the soft latex
dress in one fluid motion. This left the girl completely naked.
Hanna's eyes bulged a little when she saw Nancy's nipple rings but she
said nothing. I think Hanna would have protested stripping in front of
so many leering men but faced with a naked Nancy who showed no sign of
embarrassment the woman had no choice. Slowly she slipped out of the
PVC dress. The cut of the dress had made a bra impractical but she was
wearing a small pair of cotton panties. They looked so wonderfully
vanilla compared to all the fetish wear lying about. Blushing red with
humiliation Hanna covered her naked breasts with her arms. 

"Now, put the rubber dress on." I ordered. 

Nervously she complied, pulling the dress down as far as she could.
Nancy was almost six inches taller and so the minidress actually came
down to mid thigh on Hanna. Still trembling she stood in front of us.

"Can I go now?"

"Sure," I said, "but there are a couple of accessories that go with
that outfit." Reaching into Nancy's purse I pulled out the ball gag
and the handcuffs that my slave had been using earlier.

"What? No please! Arr..ummmppph." Tiny's hand killed the scream dead.

Hanna struggled but compared to Tiny she was like a baby. I gave Nancy
the cuffs and she quickly secured Hanna's wrists behind her back.

"While you're there get her panties. I have a use for them." I
ordered.

Dodging Hanna's wild feet Nancy quickly slipped a hand under the
woman's rubber skirt and tore the panties free. Smiling with triumph
Nancy walked over to me, her naked breasts swaying seductively. Bowing
her head she handed me the torn panties. 

"Great! Now Nance put our guest's dress on."

While Nancy was busy I approached Hanna. I nodded to Tiny and the hand
was removed.

"Please don't gag me!" Hanna pleaded, "I'll be quiet I'll do whatever
you want just.....umphh."

Grabbing her jaw I forced her mouth open and pushed the ball home.
Hanna panicked, fighting Tiny with all her strength while shaking her
head from side to side in a vain attempt to dislodge the ball. Weasel
stepped forward and grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to hold
still while I pulled the gag strap tight. The ball was pulled deep
into her oral cavity causing her to choke and splutter a little.
Still, I wasn't too concerned and she had asked for this.

I waited until Hanna had settled down. Bound and gagged she seemed to
think the worse was over. She was wrong. Smiling I folded the cotton
panties into a small pad. All the time she watched, eyes wide with
fear and puzzlement, wondering what I was doing. She got her answer
soon enough, I forced the panties into her mouth filling the remaining
space between the ball and her teeth completely. Before she could
react I grabbed a roll of black gaffer tape from Fetch's tool belt.
Gaffer tape is similar to duct tape except that it's black not silver.
Roadies and stage hands use it to secure trailing cables and fasten
down pieces of loose set. Seeing what was coming she tried to wiggle
her head again. Weasel pulled tighter forcing her to hold still while
I applied a long strip of tape to her mouth. That first strip actually
started on one cheek, passed through her open mouth and then across
the second cheek. However rather than tare off the tape at that point
I continued to wrap it around her head in a single tight band. I did
five complete turns of her head before the tape reached the level of
her lips, then another two more before I handed the roll to Weasel. 

"Finish her mouth off. Tape her arms too, as tight as you can."

Hanna looked from behind her mask, eyes full of fear and hatred. That
reminded me. Reaching up I pulled the black latex mask from her face.
For a second I paused realizing that  I had never seen the woman's
face fully uncovered. Before her mouth was clear but the mask covered
her upper face. Now the mask was gone but the bottom of her face was
rapidly disappearing under a layer of shiny black tape. Still for
someone of my skills that wasn't a problem. In my mind I brought the
two half's together and was quite pleased with the result. Hanna was
much older than Nancy but she had a fuller figure and a more rounded
face. All in all Hanna was a worthy addition to the collection.


I walked over to Nancy and handed her the latex mask.

"Here, put this on." I said in a low voice. "The only way we can get
her out is through the main entrance. Any other way and the press can
cut us off from the limos. Three guy's and a girl went in and that's
the number who have to leave understand?"

Nancy nodded.

"Ok, dressed in that uniform you should be able to get out through the
employee's enterance unnoticed I want you to slip out while no ones
looking then go and wait in the limo. Be ready to grab the girl when
we push her inside. Clear?"

Nancy smiled and slipped on the mask, "Yes Master."

I kissed her deeply then slapped her PVC covered ass. "Run along then
my little slut."

As Nancy left I signaled Fetch to come over. 

"How long do you need to wrap up here?" I asked.

Fetch shrugged, "Another hour maybe?"

Glancing at my watch I smiled. Perfect!

 "Here's her purse. She drives a white Pontiac. My guess is it's
parked nearby. If she came in through the staff enterance then she'd
have had to trick the guard by saying she'd gone for a smoke or
something. I know that the staff don't take their uniforms home so it
would have looked strange if she turned up in the uniform with a coat
or something."

Fetch nodded. We'd had groupies slip in through staff entrances
before, we knew that she would have had to come in as she was.

"I don't think she'd want to walk very far in that outfit do you?
Especially with those heels? After you've finished here find her car
and have Kerry drive it to this address. Bundled up I'm sure Kerry can
pass for our guest and I don't think anyone will think it odd if she
brings a "friend" home with her. Once you're inside have Kerry pack
enough clothes for 2 weeks. Oh, and get any writings she's done and
her computer if she has one. Tomorrow we'll get her to write a few
nice notes to anyone who might miss her."

Fetch nodded. "What shall we do with the car when we're finished?"

I shrugged, "I don't care as long as it's never seen again."

Fetch grinned, "Gotcha!"

I turned back to find Weasel putting the finishing touches to our
"guest." The bottom of Hanna's face, from just under her nose to her
chin was covered in a slick band of shiny black tape. Still more tape
had been used on her arms, binding them together from her elbows to
her handcuffed wrists. As a final touch a band of tape had been wound
around her middle, pinning her bound wrists firmly to the small of her
back. Fortunately the shiny tape was almost unnoticeable against the
shiny black latex dress and the cloak would hide it further.

I nodded my appreciation. "Is she quiet?"

Weasel laughed, "Like the grave." Hanna glared at him.

"Mr. Weasel, I do believe that the time has come to introduce our
latest recruit to Betsy." I said, sitting down so that I could more
comfortably watch the show. Weasel reached into his pocket and brought
out a small object. Despite her fear Hanna's curiosity got the better
of her. Eyes wide she looked down at the object trying to work out
what it was. Weasel, always the helpful type, gave her a
demonstration.

Hanna tried to jump back when the switchblade sprung from the handle.
Of course with Tiny holding her shoulders that proved impossible.
Weasel held the blade up to Hanna's eyes so that she could get a real
good look. I watched as Weasel let the light play over the blade
showing just how sharp it was.

"This is Betsy," Weasel whispered, "beautiful isn't she. I made her
myself to my own specification. Look at the blade, bet you've never
seen one that shape before?"

Mesmerized by the light on the blade Hanna shook her head.

"It's called a stiletto, it's what the ladies shoe heel is named
after. Back in the renaissance it was the favored weapon of Italian
assassins. Do you want to know why?"

Still mesmerized, Hanna nodded.

"You see this little sharp point goes through the body like a hot
knife through butter -- real smooth, takes no effort at all. Best of
all it makes a tiny little hole, a hole so small that there's very
little bleeding. That's useful if you're an assassin 'cos there's
little chance you can escape covered in blood."

Weasel glanced at me then turned to Hanna and smiled evilly. "In a few
minutes doll we're gonna leave. When we do you, me and Betsy are gonna
be closer than lovers. You see sweetheart I'm going to have my arm
around you and little Betsy is going to be sitting right here." He
pointed to a spot just below Hanna's left breast. Hanna flinched and
tried to pull away but of course Tiny stopped her. 

"Old Betsy'll be here you see." Weasel pressed on Hanna's chest just
beneath the tit. "Right between these two ribs. Now like I said Betsy
slides in so smoothly it takes almost no effort at all. All I need do
is flex my wrist and little Betsy will bury herself deep in your sweet
little heart..... Understand sweetheart? 

Eyes wide with fear, Hanna nodded.

"Now when we leave you ain't going to make a sound, you ain't going to
fight or try to run away or draw attention to us in *any* way. You see
you have a problem sweetheart. Gagged like that you won't make a sound
if Betsy cuts you and Tiny here can carry you to the car so easily I
doubt anyone would even notice you were dead. So you see, cause us the
*slightest* inconvenience and we might think that cutting you up is
safer than letting you live."

Her eyes widened even more.

"Now sweetcakes, do we understand each other?"

Terrified, Hanna nodded.

######################################################

We left as we came in, through the main doors and straight through the
milling group of journalists. I doubt anyone noticed anything wrong.
Magus, his bodyguard, an aide and a woman in a long hooded cloak and
oriental mask went in and the same came out. Here we had a piece of
luck. Nancy had bent over as we rushed through the crowd on the way
in. Consequently the difference in height between the two women was
not immediately obvious. This time we walked calmly to the car down a
cordon provided by some of New York's finest. Yes that's right, the
club had called in the cops to provide some extra security! I admit
that all those boys and girls in blue made me nervous. I glanced
towards our captive and to Weasel who seemed to be hugging her tight.
I doubted anyone thought it suspicious but I kept expecting her to try
something any minute. I mean she's an intelligent woman, she must have
realized that once she was in the limo all chance of rescue vanished
and she was ours to do with as we liked. Now was really her last
chance of freedom and the cops were just feet away.

However she kept walking towards the limo, her face fixed forwards,
not even looking at the cops. If it had been me I think I'd have
risked it but then I've never had a dagger against my breast -- I can
see how Betsy could be a powerful persuader.

The press started shouting and screaming like a pack of  wolves. For a
second I thought they would break through. Interestingly they paid our
guest no attention at all. Here I  think our layout helped. Weasel was
on our right flank his arm inside Hanna's cloak holding Betsy against
the girl's heart. Next came Tiny, ready to scoop Hanna up if
necessary. I was on the extreme left and about as far from the girl as
possible. The press took one look at us, at the way Weasel held her
close and the fact I was so far away and came to the conclusion that
she was *his* date and therefore not someone famous they should pay
attention to.

I managed to suppress a smile and prepared the next part of our
illusion. Ten feet from the car I held an impromptu press conference.
I answered questions, posed for pictures and told them about a charity
art auction I was arranging for the new year. All attention turned my
way and by the time that Weasel and the girl reached the car no one
was looking in their direction. With no free hands getting her into
the limo would be difficult even if Weasel didn't have to keep the
knife on her. 

In the end Weasel "helped" her through the door where Nancy was ready
to pull her deep into the darkened interior of the limo. That done I
finished my conference and slipped inside myself.

Once we were moving I could relax. Nancy reached over and pulled
Hanna's hood down and removed the mask. Hanna shook her head angrily
and a small sound emerged from behind the tape.

"You know," Nancy said, "she is actually quite attractive for an
*older* woman."

Hanna snorted.

"I agree," I said, "that's why she's joining the collection."

For a second Nancy just blinked. Then she sprang forwards and hugged
the surprised Hanna. "You mean she's my sister slave?"

I smiled at the look of startled horror on Hanna's face, "Yep. Number
one..... meet number two!"

Nancy continued to hug the started Hanna for a few minutes. Then she
pulled away and addressed our new recruit. "Yes slave *I* am Master's
number one girl and don't you forget it. You will address me as Ma'am
at all times and do whatever I ask quickly, efficiently and with a
smile on your face."
 
Hanna's face reflected her feelings. She had finally understood the
nightmare she'd walked into, realized that we were not going to let
her go."

"Ummmphhhhh," came the weak scream. Nancy took this as a statement of
defiance. I have no doubt that had the ruler been available Hanna
would have felt it's bite again. For now Nancy limited herself to a
cruel smile. 

"Never mind slave you'll soon understand, When we get home you will be
trained to obey the Master as I was and when you are worthy you will
bare his mark as I do."

I looked up at Weasel, "Do you think you can handle things from here?
I have a meeting at Domingo's restaurant in twenty minutes. You'll
have to take the slaves back to the mansion on your own. 

I noticed Weasel and Nancy exchanging knowing glances, they both
realized that tonight's meeting was the result of almost a years work.

"No problem," Weasel said, giving Hanna a hungry look, "I'll send the
limo back to pick you up. I'm sure we can think of *something* to do
while you're out." Seeing the look Hanna shivered and looked at me
with begging eyes. 

I turned to Nancy. "Best put the hood and mask back on her, don't want
someone to look in while we're stopped and seeing her like that."
Smiling Nancy reached forwards and covered Hanna's gagged face with
the mask.

######################################################################

Domingo's was one of those showy New York bar-restaurants that only
the famous and the rich attend. Just being inside is a status symbol
of a kind, a sure sign that you've made it.

I hate it with a passion.

Of course it was just the sort of place someone like Harry Donovan
would choose for a meeting; Harry was so caught up in appearances and
status he probably wouldn't even think of anywhere else.

Such was my celebrity status that I walked in with no difficulty. The
only advantage to being famous is not having to wait for a table. When
Harry had asked for the meeting I'd told him I'd be coming from a
party so rather than have diner we'd arranged to meet in the bar.

"Magus," Harry said in a voice loud enough that everyone could hear,
"So glad you could come. I have a private booth staked out back here."
He led the way to a booth at the back. That confirmed my suspicions
about the meeting. Harry wanted to discuss something so important that
secrecy was more important than Harry's almost pathological need to be
seen hobnobbing with the famous. I started to sit but much to my
surprise Harry chose that moment to shake my hand. His palms were cold
and clammy, almost like a dead man's, no matter what Harry wanted me
to think he was as nervous as hell. When he took his hand away I found
myself counting fingers... with Harry Donovan it paid to be careful.

We sat and Harry ordered a bottle of whisky, some ice and two glasses.
Whatever else was going to happen this meeting involved some serious
drinking.

"God, it must be ten years," Harry started.

"Thirteen," I said, sipping my drink.

Harry seemed surprised, "Really? As long as that? God doesn't time
fly?"

Harry refilled his drink, gulping back a huge mouthful before reaching
for the bottle again. The atmosphere was strained, Harry's bon homme
fighting the natural coldness of our relationship. Still I had every
right to be bitter.  Harry was an art dealer I'd known in the early,
lean years. After dropping out of art college I'd tried to figure out
where to go. There were simply too many starving artists in New York,
there seemed little chance of  being noticed there. In the end I'd
settled for a small town in the south west where the local art and
music scene was just starting to get national attention. Of course in
the end it had proved to be a smooth move but the first few years had
been a real struggle and of course I'd had to do business with Harry.
Harry Donovan had run the only gallery in town. In terms if big fish
in small ponds Harry was a shark in a paddling pool and he had
ruthlessly used his position to his advantage. His wife had expensive
tastes and Harry's sharp dealings helped support that lifestyle.

Back then he'd had the whip hand and his attitude had reflected it.
Now things were different. For all of his bluster there was a
desperate, almost begging quality about Harry now. He wasn't much
older than I was yet he was already graying and his sagging face and
the worry lines around his eyes told their own story. 

I let the silence hang in the air for a moment then smiled, "Doesn't
it just. What about Sam, is she well?"

Harry flashed me a plastic smile. "Samantha is well," he said,
correcting the diminutive. "We celebrated our eighteenth wedding
anniversary in November. Hang on I have a picture." Reaching into his
jacket pocket he pulled out an irregular shaped lump of leather and
fished around inside. 

Samantha!  How could I forget Samantha? She was about five eight,
hundred and twenty pounds with light brown hair and green eyes. Her
neck was long and shapely, her face finely sculptured with high
cheekbones and perfect definition. I remembered those full lips that
had seemed so inviting and a small nose that was in perfect proportion
to the rest of her face. Yes she would have been stunning if that
little nose hadn't been turned up all the time and if those pretty
lips hadn't been twisted into a permanent, ever so superior sneer. If
ever there was a woman in need of serious attitude adjustment it was
Samantha.

Fifteen years ago when I first met  her I had done everything in my
power to get into her good graces but she had always rebutted me. I
was bellow her, far too insignificant to be bothered with. The first
three times we'd met she hadn't even shaken my hand. She did the
fourth time, mainly on Harry's insistence, but the look on her face
told me that she wanted to wash her hand at the earliest opportunity.
Of course I'd been pissed but deep down I have a need to be liked. I
started asking questions of the people who knew Harry best, questions
about her, trying to find out just what her problem was.

It seems that Sam had been born into one of those rich Philadelphia
families, the ones who had been America's nobility since the days of
the Mayflower. For generations they had lived their lives of idle
luxury, straying occasionally into areas like politics where a
gentleman could dedicate some time without being accused of working.
Little Samantha had been born into that world, she could expect a fine
education, a quiet life and a good marriage; except it hadn't worked
out that way. Someone, her father or grandfather I don't know who, had
dabbled in a few suspect property deals soon after Sam was born. I
don't know exactly what happened but the family was just about ruined.
The fine houses were sold and the family found their friends had
disappeared along with their money and political influence. For years
their breeding and off hand attitude had been used to crush those that
opposed them, now those people had seen their chance to get even. Oh,
the family was still well off by the standards of suburban middle
class America, but their social status had been reduced and they
missed it, craved it. By the time Sam was a teen she had already
picked up enough of the family attitude to be a stuck up little witch.
However she had set her sights much higher than that... she wanted to
become the ultimate social climber. 

Poverty had forced her to attend the local state university rather
than the Ivy League schools of her ancestors. However once there she
set about finding the right husband. Rumor had it that she wouldn't
take no for an answer, that she was already two months pregnant when
she and Harry had their quickie wedding. Harry's family had a little
money but at first sight he didn't seem that big a prize. However,
other rumors said that she was desperate, already pregnant by a Boston
socialite whose family had no intention of him marrying a gold digger,
irrespective of her breeding.

"Magus?" Harry asked.

I snapped back from my musings.

"Sorry," I said, "lot's of memories."

Harry smiled, "Hey no problem. Here's a recent photo of Samantha."


Sam hadn't changed much, she was the kind who would take aging as some
kind of social insult. The picture was a professionally posed
sideways shot, Samantha in a red off the shoulder ball gown and long
red silk gloves, her head was tilted slightly,  her face relaxed but
interested, as if she was listening intently to a some after dinner
conversation. That impression was reinforced by the Champaign flute
she was gently cradling in her gloved hand. The whole thing screamed
class, which was probably the idea.

"Oh," Harry said, "and this is my daughter Rebecca."

This photo was a companion piece to her mother's. Shot from the other
side it showed Becky dressed in a slightly more modern blue prom dress
with long blue silk gloves and the same wine flute. Her posture,
expression and makeup was a reflection of her mothers, I could imagine
that the larger versions of these pictures probably had pride of place
in Harry's home. I could imagine the pictures in ornate frames, hung
on the wall side by side or perhaps sitting on a piano. Mother and
daughter staring at each other in mutual admiration.

Dispute the quality of the shot and the obvious time and trouble spent
in setting them up it had a cheap tackiness to it, a tasteless self
engrandesment that smacked of Samantha. Still, the look on Becky's
face didn't suggest that she'd objected. The reports I'd heard from
friends still in town was that Becky was the same kind of bitch her
mother had been.

"Beautiful isn't she....." Harry pressed.

I nodded. Perhaps that second rumor had been true after all. I
couldn't see anything off Harry in Becky and those features that she
didn't get from her mother were still soft and feminine. It was easy
to imagine that her father was a New England pretty boy. Still, Becky
was beautiful and still young enough to have that attitude trained out
of her. Beneath the table I felt my cock harden in anticipation.

"So, how have you been?" Harry started.

I ran through the edited highlights of the last few years, stuff that
Harry would already know from the newspapers. I kept it short because
I realized that Harry really wanted to talk about himself. I wasn't
disappointed. He started out by reminding me of the "good times" we'd
had together. I admit that his version seemed much better than my
memory of events. To hear Harry talk we had been the closest of
friends, bosom buddies, almost brothers, by comparison Butch and
Sundance were a couple of guys who sort of knew each other. You get
the idea.

 I sat back, sipped my whiskey and watched the show. Harry was laying
it on thick but I made no move to stop him. I knew that in a few
minutes he would be asking me to help him. Then he would beg, really
beg, probably get down on his knees if I asked him. Yes, old Harry
would offer me anything to get him out of the mess he was in, a mess I
had taken a year to create, though of course I'd done it so subtly
that Harry had no idea I was behind it.  I would help of course, but
the price would be steep, very steep. Yet things were so bad that
Harry would pay and consider himself lucky.

But then Harry had no idea what I really wanted.


#################################################

The house was dark by the time I got back. Almost everyone had turned
in after a night of too much partying. Of course my slave was waiting
for my return.

Nancy knelt patiently on the floor just inside the door of my private
chambers. She had changed into one of her slave outfits --- wide
leather collar, tight black leather corset with cutouts to let her
breasts hang free, black leather lacefront thighboots and long black
latex gloves. Her head was bowed, her gloved hands reaching up
presenting a riding crop to me.

Without a word I took the crop.

"Stand Slut."

Nancy stood, "Thank you Master."

"Where did you put number two?" I asked. Unlike Nancy, Hanna had lost
her right to a name when she lost her freedom. Soon I would think of a
new slave name for her. In a few months she would respond to that name
like it was the only one she had ever known.

"That unworthy slave awaits our Master's pleasure in the bedroom,"
Nancy said reverently. Bending the crop I walked towards the bedroom
door.

"Please sir," Nancy said, "please, this slave has prepared a Christmas
surprise for her Master one she thinks he will like."

"What kind  of a surprise?" I asked.

Nancy giggled, "You will see master and I'm sure you'll be pleased but
for now can you close your eyes and only open them when I ask?"

It was a strange request, but I love surprises. Nodding I closed my
eyes. Nancy, now almost dancing for joy, took my hand any led me
towards the bedroom door.

The first thing I noticed was the reduced level of light coming
through my eyelids. A few seconds later my other senses reported. The
room smelt of incense and candles. A few seconds later a muffled grunt
reached my ears from the direction of the bed. It seemed I had found
my other captive.

Gently Nancy led me towards the bed. After about ten feet or so she
stopped and started to undress me slowly and sensuously, letting her
slick gloved hands wander my body. Soon I was naked and Nancy slid
down and engulfed my cock in her warm mouth. She did one powerful
slurp --enough to make me tremble-- before she stood, took my hand
again and continued our journey to the bed. She took a slightly
eccentric route but we soon reached it. Nancy encouraged me to lie
down and I instinctively spread my arms expecting to make contact with
a bound body but to my surprise there was nothing. Sliding down my
naked body Nancy started work on my cock in earnest, licking the balls
and shaft before taking my full length in her mouth and deepthroating
me. Her head came back up, her tongue gently caressing the head as she
sucked. I groaned my pleasure and this seemed to be the signal Nancy
had been waiting for.

"Open your eyes Master," She whispered tenderly  and when I did she
kissed the head of my cock and said "Merry Christmas Master."

I looked up in surprise, my eyes wide with wonder at the scene. The
hanging canopy above my emperor sized bed  had been removed and there
above my head, illuminated by the flickering light of a candle, was an
angel -- a vision in silk and white leather. Hanna hung above me,
suspended by a web of white cords and wires attached to the canopy's
anchor points in the ceiling. She had been positioned with her arms
spread but her feet together. It took me a second or two to take it
all in, there was so much whimsy, so much erotic invention here that
to rush its appreciation would have been a crime.

Hanna had been dressed as a kinky angel, On her back were a pair of
spread angel's wings perfect in every detail down to the little downy
feathers that covered them. The wings attached at the shoulders,
disappearing into a tight, white, laced front leather corset that
forced the girl into the most incredible hourglass shape. Like Nancy's
corset this one had no cups, but instead had a small rim that helped
hold her naked breasts outwards. Over each nipple was a white satin
bow and a small white ball dangled from each. The way the balls moved
and the distention of the woman's breasts showed that once again the
balls had been weighted. The woman's arms were covered in long white
leather gloves. At each wrist a cuff of white cord had been tied, the
ropes pulling her arms outwards, spreading them in that universal
angelic greeting. I could see Hanna pulling against the cords, her
gloved fingers questing for unreachable knots, I figured she *really*
wanted to get those clamps off of her nipples. I looked up at the
angel's face. Her hair had been lightened slightly and permed,
surrounding her head with a halo of golden curls. Beneath that were
the wild blue-green eyes, full of pain, begging and.... something
unreadable.  It seemed unlikely that this angel was delivering tidings
of great joy --- her bulging cheeks and the mass of white tape
covering her mouth seemed to insure that. I moved my attention to her
lower body, noticing the points at which the wires attached to a belt
around her middle. A train of white silk fanned out from her waist,
though it had been tacked out of the way so that I could see her naked
cunt. A tight crotch rope pulled into her now shaven pussy. Where it
passed through the lips of her sex a number of strategic knots had
been added to torment her little pink clit. As I watched she squirmed
and one of the knots slipped in and out of her ravaged cunt. The cord
was already slick from her juices and as I watched she squirmed again.
Glancing back up I noticed the balls swinging. Hanna was caught with
an agonizing dilemma; ignore the itch in her crotch to spare her
nipples or scratch that itch with the crotch rope and accept the pain.

Glancing back down I noticed the leather garters holding up her sheer
white silk stockings. Another cuff of cord was tied around each knee,
just above the calf length white leather boots she was wearing. The
boots laced up the front and conformed to her legs like an erotic
second skin. Around her booted ankles where another pair of cord cuffs
whose lines headed for the ceiling, then the boots ended in a five
inch heel. I noticed that a small eye had been attached to the sole of
each boot near the toe. A thin black wire was attached to the eyes and
then disappeared towards the ceiling. This arrangement forced the
captive to point her toes and further immobilized her feet.

In the flickering candlelight my helpless, immobile captive, was the
image of a renaissance angel. I glanced over at Nancy who was keeping
my erection going with deft strokes of her smooth latex hand.

"But how?" I asked. This morning even I didn't know I'd be collecting
a new exhibit.

Nancy smiled, "Fetch helped me set it up. I had arranged it as my
Christmas present for my dear Master. I designed it myself, I was an
art student remember? I knew you had the meeting today and I made
arrangements for all of this to be ready when I returned. I planned to
come back here and have Kerry put me in that position ready for your
return but when you got a second girl I thought it was more fun to do
it with her.

I kissed her. Smiling Nancy reached under the pillow and pulled out a
pair of black handcuffs and a black ball gag. "Can your slave have a
reward Master?"

I was happy to oblige, gagging and cuffing my slave before sitting her
on my erect cock. Nancy arched her back and started to ride my cock,
up and down, groaning her arousal into her gag. Above us Hanna hung
helpless, eyes wide as she watched the sexual games below her. I
encouraged Nancy to grunt obscenities as she fucked me and while she
did I told Hanna what I had planned. When I'd recovered from Nancy it
would be her turn to ride my cock while Nancy tortured her nipples.
That latter Nancy would put on the strapon dildo and fuck her to
orgasm while I watched.

High above us she squirmed and the knots did their work. As her new
life was mapped out for her she struggled harder still and her quim
received the knots full attention.  I barely suppressed a smile as her
body started to twitch. The balls swung backwards and forwards adding
pain to the potent mix of emotions that was building her orgasm. And
suddenly she came, face red with humiliation, her mouth straining
against the tape as she screamed her orgasm into the gag. The muffled
sound encouraged Nancy further she clamped down hard, her own gagged
cries mixing with Hanna's are she clawed towards her own orgasm. Then
suddenly Nancy's cunt started to spasm pushing me over the edge.
Grunting, I sprayed my cum deep into my slave's willing cunt. 

For a second the three of us rested. Then I freed Nancy, slapped her
bottom and asked her to help me lower our new slave. It turned out
that there was a surprising level of control allowing either the front
or back of her body to be lowered separately. In addition the ropes
could force her legs open allowing me to fuck her while she was still
suspended. I was impressed with Nancy's inventiveness. I could see I
needed to reward her further. For now though I lowered Hanna's ass and
removed the silk train. Finally I could see the thin vibrating dildo
that was taped into her ass. To my surprise I noticed another pair of
wires passing under the crotch rope and disappearing into the woman's
cunt. 

"Vibrating egg?" I asked

Nancy, still gagged, nodded her eyes twinkling.

Gently I caressed Hanna's buttocks. The woman obviously thought she
had heard all of the indignities that would be done to her but she was
wrong. Smiling, I told her of the tattoo, my mark, that would forever
decorate her right buttock. Of course a number "2" would have to be
tattooed on her left side but Nancy had inadvertently come up with the
perfect slave name for Hanna. From now on she would be called "Angel"
to commemorate Nancy's special gift. I decided  I would add a pair of
angel's wings to the "2" I was going to tattoo on Angel's ass. Angel's
eyes widened, she shook her head. I smiled, as if anything she wanted
was important anymore. Reaching up I found the control for the
vibrating toys and upped the speed a little. In seconds Angel was too
distracted to protest any more. I waited for my cock to recover
knowing that I would violate Angel's most intimate places next.

And while I waited I dreamed of painting the wings on Angel's Ass.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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