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Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Vanishing Point Part 5 (M/ff, B and D, Kidnap)
Date: Thu, 12 Jul 2001 05:10:03 -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 authors explicitly prohibits.
1) The posting of this story in an incomplete form.
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This work is copyright TM Quin and timidt 2000
All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to
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story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Timid and Quin 2000
timidt@hotmail.com tmquin@attglobal.net
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Vanishing Point Part 5 (Ben)
=======================
Looking back, I can see that it was all my fault. I had been
far too complacent. Her passiveness had tricked me. When I
first grabbed Thelma she'd fought me like a hellcat; the two of
us were both nursing bruises for weeks. By comparison Liz had
seemed meek and mild. I mean, she had seemed out of it when I'd
first met her, and in the bar I'd poured enough booze down her
throat to inebriate an elephant. Add to that a few cable ties
and that nice Hermes scarf to gag her and you had a woman who
seemed about as helpless as you could get. She had missed her
only real chance, that of trying to bang on the doors of one of
the occupied rooms as we passed. I'd watched for that of
course, but she'd seemed completely out of it and she hadn't
even tried to scream past the gag.
By the time I had her safely in our motel room I was confident
that this was going to be one of the easiest captures ever. I'd
relaxed, let my guard down, been an idiot. I was such an idiot
in fact that I hadn't even bothered to tie her legs. Hell, I
was about to bathe her in a few minutes, I had even sent Thelma
to run some water. At the time there hadn't seemed to be any
need to be cautious.
She soon showed me.
Suddenly she made a break for the door. I found myself in an
unfavorable position of trying desperately to keep hold of her.
I yelled for Thelma, and while I was distracted the little minx
drove her foot down on mine.
I yelped, let go, and she was off over to the door. Once there,
she had to pause and turn so that she could turn the knob with
her bound hands, and that fortunately gave me time to catch up.
I jumped at her, pinning her to the door with my arm while I
called again for Thelma.
I was a little breathless but not really that angry. A few cuts
and bruises come with the territory, and any girl unwilling to
fight for her freedom isn't worth taking in the first place.
Still, attacking her owner could get her killed. I had to
punish that or it would send her the wrong message.
I slapped her, hard, for the second time that night. For a
moment she just looked at me, stunned. There was the suggestion
of tears in her eyes but she fought them down. Inside I smiled
with satisfaction. Good, she was strong and feisty just as I
like 'em. Ironically, it's the strong-willed ones that make the
best slaves -- I haven't quite worked out why. Perhaps it's
because strong people are naturally more focused and easier to
train, or maybe there's something about a strong person that
responds well to the conditioning techniques I use. Or hell,
maybe they just know what's in their own best interest.
There are really only two ways to turn a free woman into a
slave. You can train her, which is just a polite way of saying
that you beat her until her will is broken, or you can co-opt
her, meaning that you take her basic needs and shape them to
reflect your agenda. I prefer to co-opt. For a start, it
results in a better, more responsive slave for my customer.
Second, the fact that the woman gets something from being owned
appeals to me. I looked at Liz as she stood panting against the
door. By and large I try to avoid any unnecessary
unpleasantness. In my experience, it's easier to teach a woman
with pleasure than with pain. However, even the most tolerant
of masters know that there comes a time when a little fear and
pain are still needed.
I gave her an angry scowl, keeping my voice level and filling
it with as much cold venom as I could. "Don't you ever, do that
again, Liz. Never," I said, looking her straight in the eye
with my coldest, most merciless look, "I'm going to have to
punish you for that. This is your first lesson. You never, ever
hurt your master. Understand? That can, and will, get you
killed."
She just froze in my grip. There was no indication that she had
even heard me. Deep down, I sighed, I was going to have to
watch for these fade outs. I wanted her as conscious and
responsive as possible -- it's really hard to train a sleep
walker.
Glancing over, I noticed Thelma had returned from the bathroom.
I was a little pissed that she hadn't responded but I assumed
that the running water had covered the sound of our little
fight. Still a little punishment to keep Thelma on her toes did
no harm and had the secondary advantage that it showed Liz the
correct way to receive her punishment.
"Kneel Thelma, on the floor now!" I ordered.
Without hesitation, my little redhead did as she was ordered.
She slipped quickly into position number one, the standard rest
position for slaves -- on her haunches, legs apart, hands
resting lightly on her thighs, her back arched, breasts thrust
out and head bowed. I nodded approval -- the girl had learnt
well. The advantage of position one is that it displays the
girl's assets -- cunt and tits -- to best advantage and made
them instantly accessible for her Master.
Grabbing Liz, I dragged her over to a chair and roughly dumped
her in it. Then, while she was still winded, I did what I
should have done in the first place -- I bound Liz's ankles
together with a couple of extra ties. To make sure she stayed
put I added a couple of yards of strong white rope to bind her
firmly to the chair.
Now I could turn my attention to Thelma.
"I called you, Thelma. What happened?" I demanded.
Thelma kept her head lowered but I could tell she was shivering
a little. I suppressed a smile, poor Liz probably thought the
girl was quivering with fear but this close I could smell
Thelma's arousal and knew the truth.
She licked her lips, then in her most reverential voice said,
"This slave is sorry, Master Ben. This slave did not hear at
first."
I looked at Liz to see her eyes bulging. Good, it seemed that
watching things happening to Thelma somehow held the woman's
attention better than what happened to herself.
It was time to teach Liz a lesson by proxy.
I walked over to where Thelma knelt. ""You need to pay more
attention, Thelma," I said softly. "Perhaps I need to remind
you." I signaled for her to stand.
Thelma's nipples were already hard. Just the act of submission
and the excitement of a new recruit were enough to make her
very horny, and I caught that sparkle in her eye in the instant
before she bowed her head again. Smiling to myself, I took her
by the chin and forced her to look up at me while my other
hand, unseen by Liz, gently stroked the teenager's shaved
pussy.
I took the first nipple clip from my pocket and brought it up
to my slave's eyes. The sparkle increased and she gave me an
imperceptible nod. Smiling, I gently kissed the metal clip
before fastening it on her left nipple. Thelma's body trembled
and a raged breath, full of desire, escaped her lips. For a
second she arched her back, a rapt expression on her lovely
face. When she looked back I prepared the second clip, kissing
it like the last one before fixing it on her remaining nipple.
This time, for Liz's benefit, I squeezed the clip closed rather
than let the spring close it. Surprised, Thelma yelped. I
smiled and gently massaged the injured tit.
Glancing over my shoulder I found we had 100% of Liz's
attention. My body had blocked most of what had transpired but
I could see from her concerned look that the yelp had certainly
been heard.
I turned to face her.
"This is a lesson little one. I am a firm believer in
discipline. Discipline is a major part of preparing the
Desireables. Thelma knows that and so will you." I could see
Liz's eyes grow wide at the sight of the clips. Never having
worn any herself, she could only imagine and exaggerate the
pain they could cause. All of a sudden, my point seemed to
strike home. Liz thrashed against her bonds, the Hermes
muffling her desperate cries. I just waited, unconcerned. It
may have been quick and dirty, but the gag was proving
wonderfully efficient. By the time her scream had made it past
the silk packing in her mouth, it had become a weak moan. I
waited until I had her attention again.
Finally, tired, frustrated and cried out, Liz came to a halt.
I could see her looking at Thelma with a horrified look on her
face. I glanced over to find my little slave's face flushed
with arousal. I flushed a little myself -- I was trying to
teach Liz a lesson here, trying to make my "punishment" of
Thelma look like a harrowing experience and there was Thelma
obviously turned on by the whole thing. I glanced quickly back
at Liz. Fortunately, her attention was fixed on Thelma's
breasts, her eyes full of pity and concern. I followed her gaze
to Thelma's nipples, but then continued down to the damp folds
of the teen's pussy. Thelma has small cunt lips and already I
could see her pink, erect clit peeking out between them. I was
just about to say something when Thelma, ever aware of what I
had in mind, spoke.
"This slave is sorry and thanks her master for the leniency he
is showing her. This slave will do better, in future, she
promises."
"I know you will," I said, somehow managing to hide my proud
smile. Taking a few accessories from our toy bag I approached
my little slave. "Do these hurt?" I asked, tugging on one of
the clips.
Thelma drew in a long shivering breath. "Oh yes Master," she
said, eyes sparkling, "they hurt terribly but this unworthy
slave deserves it!"
That seemed to be laying it on a little thick. I glanced at Liz
but the older woman seemed to buy the idea completely.
"As your punishment, slave, you will wear the clips for the
next hour with these." I held up a couple of small weights so
that Liz could see. Under my breath I muttered, "Will these do,
or do you want something more?"
Thelma's lips quivered into a small smile, then she gave a
small nod that I hoped Liz hadn't noticed.
"Now," I said, "you will march for that hour. I want to see
sharp turns. Understood?"
Thelma nodded and started into her first circuit. It seemed our
little game had put Liz into the right frame of mind, which was
good. Now it was time for *her* punishment.
First I cut her free, removing all bonds save the gag. The tie
couldn't be removed without a knife, leaving her just as unable
to remove the scarf as she would have been with her hands tied.
Remembering her little bolt for freedom, I moved the chair in
front of the door and sat down.
"Ok Liz, I want you to take off your clothes, slowly, one piece
at a time. I want you to fold each piece neatly and place it on
the bed. You will remove only the piece I tell you to, when I
tell you to. Understand?"
She looked stunned.
"I said, do you understand?" I let the anger creep into my
voice again. She glanced over at the marching Thelma then
nodded.
"Very good. You may begin with your belt."
She shook her head.
I sighed, "I thought you said you understood? Well, perhaps you
didn't. Let me explain it to you." I let my voice go cold,
turning up the venom while still remaining calm, almost
friendly.
"You will cooperate, or you'll be hanging from the ceiling,
spread eagle, with those same clips Thelma's wearing. But they
won't just be on your tits. We'll put them on your tits and
your clit and a thousand other painful places. Then, Thelma and
I will start playing with them, like little kittens playing
with string. Now I'll ask you again, do you understand?"
Looking slightly dazed, she obeyed, taking off her black
leather belt and placing it neatly on the bed. Then I had her
remove the blouse, then the skirt. I was happy to see that
despite her adventures the outfit seemed to have come through
unscathed. That was good. I had plans for it tomorrow.
It was just about the time she wiggled out of the skirt that I
noticed something wrong. There was something about her, the way
her eyes were glazed, the dazed look on her face, the way she
moved like an automaton.
Dammit. I'd lost her again and that would never do. Quietly, I
stood and walked up behind her. While she was still bent over I
swatted her ass, hard. She yelped into the gag and started to
tremble and sob. Grabbing her chin, I forced her to look up at
me.
"Snap out of it, Liz!" I barked. "You're not going to escape
that easily. Come back and face reality or I'll force you
back!"
She stood there sobbing, her hands covering her bra like a last
line of defense. I brushed my hand against her cheek and gave
her my coldest smile.
"Put your hands at your side, slave." I ordered. For a few
seconds she just stood there, head down, great big sobs shaking
her shoulders.
Still trembling, she lowered her hands. I rewarded her by
gently caressing her breasts. She sobbed indignantly but I felt
a nipple harden.
"See, that's much better!" I said, giving her a warm smile.
"Now Liz, I want you to take off the shoes and put them on the
floor neatly, just in front of the bed. Ok?"
She did what I asked and I got a perfect view of her panty
hose-covered rear. I hate panty hose -- it's a real passion
killer, and any woman with true fashion sense would know better
than to wear them. I told her this as she slipped out of them.
These would be her last pair ever -- from now on, garter belts
and stockings were the order of the day.
That is, if I let her wear clothes at all.
Now she was down to just her bra and panties. I had to ask her
a couple of times and make more than a few threats before she
finally removed the bra. For a second, she tried to cover her
tits with her hands, but I would have none of that. I made her
stand there, hands behind her back, breasts thrust forward,
while I gently stroked her naked orbs. She grunted and the
tears came back into her eyes, but to my surprise she also
squirmed a little, too. Storing this away for later, I started
into her final disrobing.
It seemed that my attentions were being rewarded, as she showed
none of the same hesitation when it was her panties turn to go.
I had her turn her back to me and wiggle out of them like a
trained stripper. Face flushed with humiliation, she complied
and for the first time I got to see all of my new possession. I
nodded with satisfaction. Not as hard bodied as Thelma, of
course, but then teenaged girls have a body type no woman can
keep in later life. My Liz had taken care of herself, all
right. Her body looked strong and healthy and I had no doubt
that with the right training she would fetch a good price.
Smiling, I somehow put my pleasant thoughts aside and instead
concentrated on the job at hand. moving the chair over to where
she crouched.
"Hold onto the arms of the chair, Liz."
She hesitated a second, but then did as she was ordered. She
was learning, all right. I also noticed the sobs that wracked
her body and the fact that her eyes were closed. I had no doubt
that she would rather do anything but obey me, and yet obey me
she did.
Once her hands were in place I locked them there with two pairs
of handcuffs, fastening one bracelet of each to a wrist and the
other to a chair arm. She was now bent over the chair, bound
and gagged, presenting her bottom at exactly the right height
for punishment. Reaching over to the bed I picked up her black
leather belt and doubled it over in my hands. I walked around
her, deliberately dangling her belt where she could see it, and
swished it through the air a few times to make sure she knew
well in advance what was coming. Sometimes, anticipation can be
as effective as the punishment itself.
She sobbed and shook her head, begging into the silken gag.
"Look at this!" I said.
She shook her head.
"I said look at this," I demanded. She looked up at the belt,
eyes wide with fear. "This is your old life, Liz. This is the
pain you felt for so long. You are in this mess now because you
wanted that old life, so here it is. Now it's time for your
discipline. I'm doing it for your own good. Abandon the old
life, embrace the one you are being offered, and the only pain
you will feel will be the kind you'll want to feel."
Before she could do anything, I brought the belt back and laid
in my first stroke.
I had intended to give her fifteen strokes to show how
seriously I was taking her attack, but in the end I relented
and settled for eight. After all, it wasn't that big a crime --
even if by some miracle she had managed to get the door open,
what could she have done? There had been no one around to see
her and the gag ensured that she was pretty much silenced. I
carefully laid the tracks across her ass, searching each time
for unmarked flesh, keeping the welts apart and making sure
none of them broke the skin.
Each stripe brought forth a muffled scream and once again I was
impressed by the improvised gag. For something I'd knocked
together in a few minutes it seemed incredibly effective. I
doubted anyone could hear her even though the paper-thin motel
walls.
After the last lash was applied, I went to my overnight kit and
selected a tube of antiseptic ointment. "Ok, listen up, Liz," I
said, "this may sting a little but it will help with the welts.
Do you understand?"
Sobbing, she nodded. She was steeling herself but she still
winced when I started to apply the cream. I rubbed it in,
gently working the ointment into every welt and bruise. I knew
it would tingle but I was surprised at the effect. Her ass
started to move with my hand, groans of relief becoming moans
of a different kind as my work continued. A warm, musky smell
fought with the antiseptic for a moment, and out of curiosity I
ran my fingers through the tangled mass of brown pubic hair.
"Ummmmpphhh," she protested, but I pressed on to her pussy.
After just a moment in there, my fingers were quite wet.
Laughing, I rubbed some of her juices on her nose.
"My, my, you are quite a slut aren't you Liz?" I said. Thelma
chose that moment to march by on her circuit. "Thelma, stop and
look at this," I ordered, "I whip her ass to teach her a lesson
and the kinky little slut gets off on it."
Weights still swinging on her clamped nipples, Thelma thought
for a while. "Are you sure she really is a businesswoman
Master?" she asked innocently. "She could be one of those high
class prostitutes you read about. I mean, a businesswoman
wouldn't get off like that from her first whipping. No woman
would, unless she's a prostitute or a nymphomaniac."
Liz flushed a curious mixture of anger and embarrassment. I saw
her glowering at my little slave and had to smile. No love lost
there, for sure. Making these two the passionate lovers I
intended them to be would be entertaining.
Enough for now. I had a few more things I needed to check out.
I had intended to do them after Liz's bath but as she'd decided
to be such a nuisance I wasn't in such a hurry to make her
comfortable.
I turned to Thelma. "Get me a roll of duct tape," I ordered.
=================================================================
I let Thelma drive, as she was sober and a lot less tired than
I was. Our camper and the little trailer that held our car made
for quite a large rig, one that was hard to control at the best
of times. I was relieved to see that she took it cautiously,
keeping the speed low for the few hundred yards to the
Vanishing Point. While she drove, I took the opportunity to go
through Liz's purse. It had the usual stuff -- a collection of
makeup, keys, a wallet, Filofax. It seemed that she was a
senior Ad executive with a firm so large even I had heard of
them. I snickered a little, wondering what her clients would
say if they could see her the way we'd left her. Of course,
they'd probably want to fuck the little bitch. I had no doubt
that little "Elizabeth" had made lots of promises she'd had no
intention of carrying through on. "Anything it takes to get a
contract" was probably embroidered on her heart.
The Vanishing Point was closed by the time we arrived but that
was okay. It wasn't what we'd come for. The front car park
facing the highway and the gas station was empty so we headed
around back.
Liz had made her appearance late in the night when all the best
parking spaces had been taken. Sure enough, there was the Merc,
squeezed into a small corner at the very back of the rear car
park. Chuckling, I picked up her keys and made my way over to
the car. A quick check showed me all I needed to see -- bags
still in the back and no indication that anyone had noticed the
odd vehicle with the out of state plates. Rustling in her
purse, I found the keys and opened the driver's side door.
Immediately I was hit by that new car smell; I doubt the Merc
had more than a few thousand on the clock. That was good, since
it meant that I should get a little more from the chop shop I
used. On impulse, I put the keys in the ignition and turned her
over. I like the sound of engines, always have, and these
little German numbers can be sweet.
Sure enough, she purred to life. I sighed, half wishing I could
afford to go for something this flashy. Of course, the money
isn't a problem, no slave goes for less than five figures, but
a flash car would spoil my cover. Sighing, I reached for the
ignition.
And stopped.
A full tank! She had a full tank! Not kinda full, not almost
full, but a full to the gunwales kinda full. I blinked. The gas
station. Quickly, I grabbed her wallet. There was a few bucks
inside, not the amount I would expect from an Ad exec. For a
second, I hoped she'd blown the rest paying for the gas in
cash. But then I saw it, tucked behind her Amex card -- a
little white receipt.
Damn!
She'd bought gas across the street before coming to the bar.
Worse, she'd used a credit card and the debit had been taken by
machine and not one of those roller things. By now, Amex's
computer would know the last place little Lizzie had stopped
for gas and the first place the cops would look when she showed
up missing. All anyone had to do was walk across the road and
ask in the bar -- she'd been so damned conspicuous and I'd been
so obvious when I left with her. Fuck, my picture was even on
Turk's trophy wall.
I had to think.
It didn't take long, of course. There was really only one thing
we could do.
I went back to the camper, where the redhead was waiting
expectantly. "Thelma," I said, "help me get my car off the
trailer."
=========================================================
Fortunately, my dust cover was large enough to hide the Merc. A
quick note to Turk asking him to look after my car was wrapped
around the keys and dumped in the postbox. Then we headed back
to the motel. I had intended to head back to my place but now
the only way we could hope to get away with this was to lay
down a false trail for the police to follow, a trail that would
end many days and many miles from the Vanishing Point. Far
enough away that they wouldn't think it was worthwhile
backtracking that far.
At least, that was the theory.
Whacked out, I stumbled back into the motel room. Thelma
started to strip for bed and I felt the sudden need to fuck her
to relieve the tension. However, before we could do that we had
to tend to our guest.
Liz looked up as we entered the bathroom. For a second there
was a look of hope in her eyes. Perhaps she had thought that we
were someone else, rescue maybe. In any case, she glared at us
once she realized who it was.
"Not finished yet?" I mocked. "So it is true what they say
about women hogging the bathroom."
"Ummpphh," she snorted over the silver tape that covered her
mouth. Underneath, the Hermes was still in place but I'd
removed the tie in favor of a nice thick tape covering.
Smiling, I took a knife and cut the choke cord that bound her
neck to the toilet piping, then helped her up from the toilet
seat. Thelma squatted down and I quickly passed her the knife,
waiting while she cut the cords that bound Liz to the pedestal.
"Better clean her off," I said, nodding towards the TP. Thelma
wrinkled her nose but she quickly got a handful of paper and
dried Liz off.
While Thelma sorted out the bathroom I led our guest back into
the main room and sat her in a chair. "I'm going to remove the
gag now. If you shout or scream it goes straight back in
understand?" I said.
She nodded.
"Good, because it won't do you any good anyway. If anyone did
hear and come around, all I'd say is that my girlfriend gets a
little noisy during sex. I'm sure little Thelma can look very
embarrassed and apologetic if she has to."
Reaching up, I tore the tape from her lips. "Owww!! W. .
.water." she croaked.
I shook my head. "I wouldn't trust the water here to drink, Liz
honey. How about a nice iced cold Diet Coke?"
At that moment I think she'd have willingly drunk hemlock. I
poured the can into her, then followed it with another from our
cooler. By the time she was finished with that she looked a lot
better.
She obviously felt better too. She licked her lips, cleared her
throat and said, "P. . .please let me go! I'll--"
"Not interested," I said.
"T-they'll catch you--"
I smirked. "They haven't yet, and I've been doing this for five
years. Look, I'll save you some trouble. I've heard every type
of begging in all kinds of languages. I've listened to lots of
threats and lots of promises of official retribution. It hasn't
happened. All of those women fought, swore, said their piece
and it never did any of them any good. I sold each and every
one of those little pussies, and by that time each and every
one of them was pleased to be sold. Hell, some even send me
Christmas cards.
"S-sell?" she stammered.
"As a sex slave, sweetheart. Minimum any of mine is worth is
one hundred thousand dollars cash. I get the best bucks because
I have the best girls. Girls who have assets like these."
Smiling, I reached over and stoked her exposed breasts. She
winced and tried to pull away.
I looked up. "When you're finished in there, Thelma, bring me a
crop, there's a good girl," I said casually, "We have one here
who won't let her Master fondle her. I think it's time to show
her that there are worse things that can touch her."
Liz stiffened, "No!" she said.
I shrugged. "Then you know what you need to do, cunt."
Slowly, with obvious reluctance, Liz turned her breasts towards
me, thrusting them towards my eager hands.
"Better," I said, "and to show you that it isn't all bad news.
. ." I gently massaged her breast and was gratified to see her
nipple almost instantly react. She took a ragged breath.
"You see, sweetie there is a key to producing a good slave," I
explained. "I've known people who beat the living shit out of a
girl to get her to play ball. By the time they're finished,
she's no better than a dog. Me, I have another system. I look
for what the woman needs and make sure that she gets it from
her new Master. You see, it's easy, really. Slave loves Master,
Master owns slave, all live happily ever after."
Her eyelids fluttered as she blinked back tears. "I don't need
anything. Let me go, I--"
"Of course, you're a different case," I said, ignoring her.
"You are a slave already. All I need to do is retrain you and
sell you to another Master."
"Another Master?" she spluttered.
"Yes," I said, "one who isn't as cruel and demanding as your
current one. One who knows how to treat a woman properly."
"If you mean Keith, he would never--"
"I wasn't talking about Keith," I said, "Keith isn't your
Master, just your husband."
She frowned, "Then I don't understand. If it isn't Keith then
who are you talking about?"
"Your Master?" I said. "It's your career, of course. It rules
your life, makes demands, forces you to bow down before it. Oh,
I admit I admire your loyalty and single minded devotion. Those
are attributes I try to bring out in all my slaves. But as a
Master, your career takes all that and gives so little in
return. I mean, you sacrifice human relationships, human warmth
to your Master, and he does nothing for you?"
"You're talking nonsense," she started, "I--"
"You even sacrifice the most precious thing a woman can
sacrifice," I continued, ignoring her, "you surrendered your
sexuality and for it you received nothing. I can offer you a
wiser and fairer Master than that."
She blinked. "I don't know what you mean."
"Twenty-eight and never once an orgasm? Not even when you play
with yourself?"
A red flush crept over her face. "I have no idea--"
I slapped her, not hard, just enough to stop her. "Another
rule. Slaves *never* lie to their Masters. Understand?"
She nodded.
"Tell me," I said.
She shuffled uncomfortably. "Okay, so I never had an orgasm,
but so what? It isn't that important."
I smiled. "Spoken by someone who doesn't know what she's
missing." I turned towards the bed. "Ready, Thelma dear?"
Thelma nodded. "Ready, Master."
Liz looked up and blinked with shock, finally realizing what
Thelma had been up to all this time. Strong ropes had been
attached to each of the four corners of the bed in readiness. A
number of sex toys, lubes and dildos stood on the bedside
table.
I smiled at Liz. "Then please get me the ring gag with the
dildo filler. I think it's time to silence little miss Lizzie
again."
Liz blinked. "Please, there's no need," she promised. That gag
must have really bothered her. "I promise I'll be quiet. Like
you said, you can explain any screams anyway."
I laughed. "That's true, but I think we'll gag you all the
same. You see, I think it's unfair to keep our neighbors awake.
Trust me, you'll be screaming your head off by the time we've
finished.
She shivered, probably imagining a thousand tortures. "What are
you going to do to me?" she asked softly.
Smiling, I gently stroked her head, "We're going to show you
what you're missing."
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