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From: "MARK  MERSEREAU" <m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 20 Jan 2002 17:42:21 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} REPOST: Abducted and Enslaved Part 4
Date: Sun, 20 Jan 2002 19:10:06 -0500
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{ ASSM } {Mersereau} REPOST "Abducted & Enslaved" ( MF Mf FF FM Ff Fm
Mdom Fdom nc voy sm bd oral toys ) (4/?) 

The usual disclaimers: This is strictly adult material; all characters
are fictional. Events in this story are unethical, immoral, and illegal.
Readers should understand that the story is strictly fiction and many of
the events and characters in it have no place in a civilized society. No
redistribution without attribution to the above-named author. No
commercial use whatsoever of this story. 

N.B. The author wrote this in MSWord and in that form contains
pagination and formatting to indicate internal dialogue and emphasis.
For those readers interested in obtaining this original version, please
contact the author at mdotmersereau@aol.com. Please indicate whether you
can unzip compressed files with the .zip and or .exe extensions (the
latter not feasible with Apples). 


A&E-Part 4 (Chapters 16-19)

Chapter 16: Collars, Cuffs, and a Little Abuse

Sheila followed the first guard, a young man who looked to be in his
early twenties with jet black hair and an hispanic face. His dark skin
could be inherent, but it could just as well have been from exposure to
the sun. In any case, he was polite and, unlike the other men who had
been involved in her abduction, he didn't frighten her. 

They proceeded down a path between palm trees. Sheila was thankful for
the shade that shielded them from the glare and heat of the sun. Ed was
sometimes right behind her and sometimes one person farther back, behind
Wendy. His skin was fair, like her own. Like all the other male captives
he had no shirt and, if the palms hadn't been overhead, he would
probably have burned. 

As for herself, in her skimpy clothing, the air in the shade felt
pleasantly warm on her bare skin. The path underfoot ran irregularly up
and down sandy hillocks. The frequent jolts caused her breasts to bob,
and the thin halter persisted in riding up and exposing her nipples.
Initially, she gripped the thin cloth to hold it down, but it was too
awkward to walk keeping her hand up. In any case she thought, who would
notice? With the sole exception of Wendy, the girls behind her were all
well-endowed and, each time that she glanced back, she saw, somewhere
along the line, a pair of nipples exposed in the way hers were, by a
halter that had crept too high. She gave it up. 

Through the soft slippers the sand was warm under her feet. As she
followed the guard, she looked to each side at the exotic vegetation
bordering the narrow path. Besides the palm trunks, there were huge
shrubs with sawtooth-like leaves that appeared as large as tennis
racquets. In another context she would have been ravished by the beauty
of blue, white, and purple flowers whose blossoms were larger than her
hand. She guessed they were orchids, but the others she didn't
recognize: they were in all shades of yellow and orange and were shaped
like the flared end of a trumpet. They accounted for the many odors that
she hadn't before noticed. The invigorating breeze of the sea had
decreased and the air was motionless. It was humid and it had the scent
of perfume like a boudoir. 

They finally exited the canopy of trees and stood in a clearing under
the hot sun before one end of a long shed. The structure was squat and
ugly, of unpainted gray concrete; its roof was of some corrugated metal
and was painted white. The entrance that they faced and the exit at its
other end were both doorless. 

Over the doorway, in black letters on a white rectangle was a crudely
painted sign baldly proclaiming 'Pet Shop'. 

"Come on in," the guard told them, and they entered. Sheila felt relief
from the shade, but she felt radiant heat from the metal roof overhead.
There was no artificial lighting in the building. The interior was
nevertheless illuminated adequately by open spaces at the top of each of
the long walls, the flat but sloping roof being supported by short metal
posts set into the flat tops of the two long walls. 

On their right were long metal shelves, loaded with open boxes. The wall
on the left was lined with hooks, from which hung objects that sent
shivers down her spine. She saw chains in all sizes, manacles and
handcuffs, collars made of metal, and ones of leather (or perhaps
vinyl). Farther along the left wall she glimpsed what looked like whips.
They hung by loops in the ends of their handles. Some were perhaps as
long as three feet; others had multi-stranded ends that she supposed
would spread out when in use. Some had vicious-looking pebble-like ends.
Others were short, no longer than a foot--rugged straps of thick
leather. She imagined that getting hit by one of those would feel like
being struck by a heavy yardstick. 

When the last of the prisoners was in the building, the lead guard took
down collars from two hooks on the wall. "Here," he told Sheila, handing
her half of them. He gave the rest to Ed. 

"Pass these out, one to each person. Then get back here." 

When they returned, the guard slipped a collar about Ed's neck. He
buckled it tightly. He encircled Sheila's neck with a smaller one,
pulling two straps through the buckles until it was snug. He left no
slack in the collar and, whether it was made of leather or vinyl, Sheila
was glad that the inside seemed soft. Finally, as he had done with Ed's,
he fixed its metal hasp with a small luggage lock. 

"Stand there," he told her, while he removed a large corrugated box from
a high shelf. From it he withdrew handcuffs, some of which he handed to
one of the guards who had been following them; the other half, except
for one, he set temporarily on a low shelf. "Hold out your hands," he
told her. 

He fastened the cuffs on her wrists, until they were fairly snug, but
not as tightly as he had the collar. Sheila supposed the metal would
have become uncomfortable if he had. "Now the link," he said. He removed
a second box, and withdrew a narrow chain, about six inches in length,
with snap hooks on both ends. "Head back a bit," he told her. Sheila
complied, and he connected a hook to a collar ring just under her chin.
With the chain dangling from her collar then, he grasped one of her
manacled wrists and raised her arms. He snapped the other end of the
chain to the ring linking her handcuffs. When he released her wrists,
Sheila's hands were bound just under her chin. She felt completely
helpless like this, and would be unable to even brush down the thin
nylon of her halter if a breeze again exposed her breasts. 

Sheila looked down the line of prisoners behind her. The male ones had
already been all manacled, with their hands behind their backs, and
their wrists pulled up by the chains so far that their hands were
between their shoulderblades. 

"Is handcuffing us really necessary?" she complained to the guard.
"You're all armed; what could we possibly do? These chains holding up
our hands are even worse. Suppose one of us trips and falls? What's
their purpose?" 

"I'll show you," he replied, mildly. Suddenly, he reached up and flicked
the nylon of her halter up with his thumbs. He grasped her bared
breasts, encircling them with his large hands. He stroked and kneaded
them for a perhaps a minute. Aware that the other guards were looking
on, amused, Sheila felt her face redden. 

His eyes looked down, meeting hers, as he drew his fingers outward to
her nipples. He squeezed. Too embarrassed to look up at him, she turned
her head aside. He seemed in no hurry, and he worked them, twisting and
pulling them until they were both erect. Sheila felt that they must be
hard as rocks. 

Grinning, he explained, "The chains give us these little freebies. The
boss doesn't care." When all the females had been bound as Sheila, they
looked as though they were engaged in a common prayer. She noticed that
the guards were not finished manacling Ed and the other five men. Their
hands had been bound before those of the women, but now their legs were
being bound as well. Short rods, of about twelve inches in length, were
fastened between their ankles by cuffs on the rod ends. The guard who
was crouching before Ed, clamping the cuffs about his ankles, looked up
at her. 

"Don't worry," he told her, smiling. "You females will get spreader
bars. But yours will be too long to let you walk while you have them on.
You'll have to wait for your training to get yours." 

The guards led them out the opposite end and along a short path in the
open sun. The ground underfoot was still mostly sand. Glancing back,
Sheila saw that the men were forced to take quick baby steps to keep up,
taking two steps for every one that she took. Looking ahead, she saw a
large white stucco four-story building whose entrance faced the sea. By
now, the water was fifty yards or so down a slope to their right. Sheila
tried to memorize the building's appearance. She might have to describe
it to Max or the police in the future. With its multicolored canopies,
it's red tiled roof, and black shutters, she thought that the edifice
looked Mexican. But she'd never been to that country; so perhaps she was
mistaken. 

As the lead guard approached the concrete steps to a side door, the door
opened. A tall man--good-looking, Sheila thought--of about forty years
exited the door. He looked athletic and muscular, and he was wearing
swimming trunks, tennis shoes, and sunglasses. He stopped for a moment
and looked at the captives. He spent what seemed to her an inordinate
time looking her over and, feeling his eyes on her, Sheila's face grew
hot. Then he broke into a run. He flew past the line of captives and
disappeared around the building they had just left. 

Ed moved closer to Sheila, and she felt his bare arm touch her shoulder.
He whispered in her ear, "I've seen that man's face before. A photo in a
newspaper or magazine." 

Sheila wanted him to elaborate, but the guard was already urging them up
the steps. They passed through the louvered side door into a large room.
Against a far wall Sheila observed stacks of suitcases, all identical,
which resembled the ones in which she and the other captives had left
their clothing. 

In the center of the room were two long tables that had been butted
together, end to end. Behind these two women were seated; each wore a
blue column dress and a gold-colored metal collar. One of them, a
slightly overweight but buxom and shapely girl with dirty blonde hair,
who looked about twenty years old, stood up. 

"Hi there!" she said. "My name is Kelly--you'll address me as Mistress
Kelly. Don't forget that. If you do," she said, giving them a wide
smile; "I'll have the pleasure of giving you a whipping. Welcome to
Ecoliere Island. Please take seats." She held up a sheet of paper from a
stack on the table, "Each of you complete one of these forms." 

She indicated the chairs along the tables, and the prisoners seated
themselves. As Sheila grasped her chair and sat in it--it was of the
folding metal type that accompanied card tables--it felt cold and
strange under her bare buttocks and thighs. In other circumstances the
sensation might have been erotic. 

Pencils, and stacks of white sheets were distributed along the tables. A
stack was directly before her. Leaning over the table, Sheila was able
to (awkwardly) take several sheets from its top and handed all but two
to Anne, the brunette model, who had just seated herself beside Sheila. 

"My god!" the brunette exclaimed, looking at the stack. "How many women
do these people intend to kidnap?" 

Sheila glanced at the two guards. One was in the door through which they
had entered. The other was with his back to an interior doorway. Keeping
her eyes on the two women, Sheila put the two forms one on top of the
other, so that it appeared she had just one. 

The form was a questionnaire. It contained sections for information that
she might have found on an employment form, including her name, home
address, age and date of birth, height and weight. 

But not the subsequent lines. Those concerned clothing sizes, of
everything, from hats to shoes, and included brassiere details. The next
section asked intimate questions. What girl, she wondered, would put
down the truth about her masturbation practices, much less how many
sexual partners she'd had? Sheila couldn't imagine what the management
of this place could do with her or any of the other girls' answers to
those questions. The questions about vibrators and vegetables made her
blush. She wondered how the others would fill in those lines. 

The dirty blonde--Kelly--apparently read her mind. Standing up again,
she told them, "Be sure to tell the truth about your past sex life. If
you don't, especially if you pretend you're more innocent than you are,
your training is going to be more extensive than you are going to like."

Sheila finally decided to tell a mixture of truth and falsehoods.
Masturbation, 'yes'. How many boys and men she'd had sex with. Did those
few times in high school count? She shrugged and wrote '6'. Married?
'Yes', the first big lie. With trepidation, she wrote 'no' to the
questions about vegetables. She admitted using a vibrator. 

She looked down the length of the table; all the girls were hunched over
it, working at writing with handcuffed hands. Sheila crossed out items,
then she crumpled the paper and set it aside. She wrote on the second
form, keeping an eye on the two women dressed in blue. While writing,
she pulled the crumpled sheet forward so it fell in her lap. By the time
the women collected the forms, she had, with difficulty and
uncomfortably, hidden the crumpled sheet. 

After she and the others passed in their forms, the guard led the group
through the interior doorway. They found themselves in another large
room, but this one was luxuriously furnished. The carpet beneath
Sheila's feet was thick; tasteful--and probably expensive- -statuary was
interspersed between the deep armchairs and lampstands. Music came from
hidden speakers. As they walked in, Sheila saw a bar on her left. On her
right, across the room, was an enormous glass window which took up much
of the wall; through it Sheila could see the ocean. 

Sheila estimated that there were nine or ten men in the room as well as
three women. Most were seated and sipping drinks while they conversed.
Two of the women were elegantly dressed in evening wear. A blonde woman,
perhaps in her late thirties and younger than the others, was dressed in
shorts and a halter, with sandals on her feet. The men were all dressed
casually, some in Hawaiian style printed shirts and white slacks, some
in tee shirts and shorts. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look
at the captives when they entered. 

When the two rear guards had entered and closed the door, the lead guard
told the group, "All of you wait here," and he disappeared through an
inner doorway. 

While Sheila and her companions waited, the seated spectators around
them began to discuss the physical attributes of her and the other
female prisoners, describing the prisoners as if they were inanimate
items in a department store. None of the clients appeared concerned that
the captives heard their remarks. 

A man seated close to Sheila said, "Nice tits on this one," indicating
her with a motion of his hand. The woman seated beside him, a fortyish
brunette beside him nodded. "Yes, she has, Dennis. If you buy her is
that where you'll fuck her?" 

"I'm not much into tit-fucking, Eileen." The woman's eyes were on
Sheila, looking her up and down. 

"Have you noticed her ass?" the brunette asked. 

The man nodded. "Sure have, Eileen. Nice cheeks." 

"They're adorable," the woman said. "If I were a man, that's where I'd
want my cock-- up between those delectable buttocks." 

"Well, if I'm lucky enough to get her, it's the first place I'll shove
my cock. First her ass, then her mouth." 

"Not her cunt?" she asked, curious. 

"Well, sure, but I have this fantasy . . . " 

"Which is . . . ?" 

"Sometime I'd like to get two females , . . . " 

She smiled. "A lot of men would like two. But, that would be expensive,
Dennis. Very expensive. You men are such dreamers." 

"I know, but let me finish, Eileen," he protested. "If I ever do get
two, I'll have one girl kneel between the second one's legs and suck her
cunt. I'll fuck the kneeling one in the ass. After I come, I'll straddle
the second one's shoulders. She'll clean me up and make me come again,
using her mouth." "Ugh!" Eileen said. "How disgusting. The ideas you men
have!" Sheila felt her face grow warm, but she tried to avoid giving any
indication that she heard their words. 

At that moment, the door through which the group of prisoners had
entered opened and a couple entered. Sheila recognized them as two from
the group who had been seated under the grove of trees when the captives
had first left the ship. The woman was the buxom fortyish bleached
blonde. She still was still dressed in the scarlet gown and adorned with
an excess of jewelry. Sheila thought Crane had called her 'Rita'. She
recalled that Rita had accused her companion of having 'a fetish for big
tits'. 

"Ah!" the bleached blonde exclaimed; "They're still here, George. Is the
Boss-Man anywhere?" 

Her companion looked around the room and then shook his head. "I doubt
if we'll see him until the auction, Rita. He has a lot to do today." 

"That's wonderful, George. I'm in luck. Let's have a look at the males
now. Come along." 

She led him by the hand, past Sheila and Wendy, to stand before Ed. He
stared back down at her, impassively. 

"Well . . ." she said, looking him up and down; "Are you ever a gorgeous
piece of beef!" Rita reached up, and she grasped his bicep and felt it.
"I assume that you're married," she remarked. With a motion of her hand
she indicated the girls. Which of these whores is your wife?" 

"They aren't whores," Ed said, and Sheila was certain from his reddening
face that he was angry. He said, "It's quite possible that you are." 

The look on Rita's face was as false a smile as Sheila had ever seen.
Sheila felt a dreadful fear for Ed. 

"Well, you're not a wimp yet," Rita said. "But once you've been trained,
you will be." She reached down, and raised his leather loincloth and
thrust her cupped hand between his legs. She grasped his testicles and
closed her hand about them. "Now," she said in a mockingly sweet tone,
"Say something more." 

Ed was silent. The ruddiness of his countenance had disappeared and his
face had become pale. 

Rita looked at the girls. "Which of you whores is his wife? If you don't
respond in two seconds, I'll squeeze." 

Sheila was terrified for Ed. "I-I am," she said. 

"Well," Rita said, looking her and smiling. "I suppose you don't want me
to turn your hubby into a eunuch. Let's see how far you'll go to keep
him virile." 

She turned to her male companion, who was directly behind her. "George,
tell her why we stopped here." 

The man, his black hair streaked with gray, looked about the woman's
age--fortyish. Like her, he was slightly overweight. He said to Sheila,
"Rita is set on getting a slave with a big cock. The bigger the better."

Sheila didn't know what to reply, if anything. His words made her think
of Jerry. "By a big cock," he told Sheila; "she really means a big
hard-on. Crane didn't have the time this morning for that. Now that he
isn't around, she has the opportunity to check out the men with you. And
the boys." 

"Yes," Rita agreed; "What's your name, Dear?" "Sheila. Sheila Ericson."
"Well, Sheila, your hubby has a nice cock," Rita said. She released his
testicles and her fingers encircled his penis. She held it up,
displaying it. She flicked it up and down. Ed's face had flushed again.
"There's no need for that," he told her. 

Rita sneered. "I'll excuse your interruption for the moment, young man.
By the time the trainers are finished, you'll know enough not to open
your mouth unless your Mistress orders you to. If I buy you, you'll find
that your tongue will provide me with just one service, and speaking is
not it." 

She raised his loin flap again. 

"I need to see the size of this when it's erect. Tell your wife to make
it hard." Sheila felt her face suddenly grow hot. She'd never even dated
Ed! Just the thought of doing what Rita wanted, in front of all these
people, frightened her. 

She nervously swallowed, but she tried to appear cool and confident.
Perhaps the woman simply wanted to embarrass her. Maybe Rita would
forget the idea. 

"Suppose I don't?" she responded. She had strived to keep her voice
calm, but stumbled on the last word. 

Rita again grabbed Ed's balls. Laughing, she exclaimed, "All the
better--I squeeze!" Ed emitted a loud, "Oooh! Let go!" Rita retained her
grip, smiling. "I can squeeze much harder than that," she said. "Like
this!" Her fist closed further. 

"Uuuuh!" he exclaimed. He looked ill, and he staggered. With wrists and
ankles bound, he was unable to keep his balance. He would have fallen
but fortunately Wendy was in front of him. Her hands were close enough
that when he lost his balance her flattened palms prevented him from
falling. 

"Please stop!" Sheila cried, terrified. She saw no way of using her
hands without kneeling so, despite her feelings of shame, she knelt on
the carpet before him. She raised the leather with one hand and grasped
his limp organ with the other. 

Her face felt hot as she worked the soft flesh in her hands, bound
together as they were by the handcuffs. Despite her kneading fingers,
after more than a minute, Ed's penis remained as soft as before. 

George said, "Jesus, Sheila! When are you gonna take it in your mouth?
Some wife!" "Let her be, George," Rita responded. Sheila's embarrassment
was relieved by the reappearance of the guard, who was followed by four
girls dressed in blue column dresses and gold collars like the girls in
the previous room had worn. 

The buxom girl Kelly, with the dirty blonde hair, showed no surprise at
Sheila's position or at what she was doing. "I'm sorry, Mistress," she
said to Rita, giving her a peculiar and brief curtsey with slightly bent
knees; "but I have to take her with me. Master Crane gave me orders to
prepare her for the auction." The girl grasped one of Sheila's
thrust-out upper arms. "Come with me, Blondie," she said. "We have to
get all of you ready for this afternoon." 

 *  *  *

The two of them left the room and entered a long hall. They passed
several doorways on each side. As they were about to pass an open
doorway on their right, a loud moan came from it. 

"Oh, hang on a sec, Sheila!" Kelly exclaimed. "Let's have a look in
here." 

"This is the Executive Lounge," she said, tugging Sheila's arm. "Usually
it's locked. But us blue girls have keys. This is where we put trainees
on days when we don't have the time to train them. Clients pay extra to
use the room." 

Kelly gave Sheila a smile. "But that doesn't inhibit them," she said;
"the lounge is popular!" 

Sheila guessed that room was slightly smaller than the one they'd just
left, but it still looked substantial. It was just as thickly carpeted.
She saw armchairs and sofas distributed about the room but, instead of
lamp tables and statuary, the main features in the room seemed to be
wooden stocks. These were in a variety of shapes but it was evident from
the manacles dangling from them that all were likely intended to hold
captives. 

At the moment, only one stock in the room was occupied. It was across
the room from them, near the wall opposite the door she and Kelly had
just entered. The device looked similar to pillories that Sheila
recalled seeing illustrated in a library reference book and which had
been used by settlers in early New England as a means of punishment in
lieu of building a jail. The stock across the room held a pretty
brunette of about eighteen. She was naked. Her neck and wrists were
clamped in three holes, located about three feet above the carpet, in
the face of the rack. They kept her bent at the hips, with her back
horizontal. Unlike the pillories that Sheila remembered in the
photographs, this one was provided with ankle manacles fastened to each
side of its wooden base. These kept her legs wide apart. 

A man was behind her, gripping her hips as he fucked her. The girl's
eyes were closed and her mouth gaped, but her moans were inaudible from
across the room; Sheila heard only her louder "uh!" each time the man's
trousered belly struck her buttocks. The man was clothed except for his
penis. Sheila saw it projecting from his fly each time that he drew
back, piston-like from a forward thrust. 

Each of the man's thrusts drove the girl forward so that her shoulders
struck the upright of the pillory, and her body rebounded. Her dangling
breasts swung pendulously, following their motions. 

The man glanced across the room and noticed Sheila and Kelly, who were
standing just inside the doorway. He smiled at them and reached forward
under the girl with both his hands. He grasped the girl's nipples and
pinched them. The girl opened her eyes. She also saw Kelly and Sheila,
and she blushed. 

Sheila and Kelly had something closer to observe than the pair across
the room. The moans that had drawn Kelly's attention were from a girl
who was standing on their right, only a few feet from the doorway. She
was standing, legs apart, facing four seated men and was masturbating.
The four were seated in comfortable, cushioned armchairs that had been
arranged in a semicircle from the doorway to the wall on the right. A
fifth man stood beside her holding a whip. He gripped the hem of her
skirt with his other hand. He held it so high that even her navel was
visible. 

Sheila could see all of the girl below her waist, from her bare buttocks
and her black muff to her genitals, held gaping open by her fingers.
Under her blouse she was just as devoid of underclothing, since Sheila
could see the bumps and tint of her nipples through the thin material.
Her breasts appeared to be medium-sized, taking perhaps B cups. 

The girl looked about her own age of twenty-two or so. She was trim,
with a slender waist. Naturally, she was pretty--all of the girls that
Sheila had seen here seemed to be. Her hair was jet black and long.
Perhaps, before she'd come to the island she had kept it in a ponytail.
Now her tresses hung freely down the back of her white blouse. The ends
lay upon the hand holding up her skirt. 

The brunette wore a collar that looked similar to Sheila's. The collar
was light tan in color and looked like it was made of supple vinyl or
leather. Her only manacles were about her ankles; these appeared as if
they had originally been a pair of metal handcuffs. Now the cuffs were
attached to the two ends of a long metal rod. Their grip held her feet
wide apart. 

The girl had her eyes closed. Her moans were loud, and seemed completely
uninhibited. Hers were the loud cries that had attracted Kelly to the
room. 

One of the men glanced at his watch. "Five seconds, Janine," he said. 

The girl opened her eyes. His words induced her to move her fingers
faster, hastily. 

"I'm close, Master!" she cried. "Please wait . . . " 

"Time, Janine!" the man with the watch exclaimed. He grinned, and he
nodded to the man with the whip. 

The man holding her skirt swung his strap. It was short and wide, and it
struck her with a loud 'smack!' The girl emitted a loud cry. The strap
must have been heavy, for its impact made her nearly lose her balance. 

The man didn't halt after one blow. He brought it across the girl's
buttocks repeatedly. He struck her buttocks again and again, not rapidly
but methodically, and hard. 

The whip looked thick despite its shortness. Sheila thought its blows
must sting severely. Each impact produced an audible 'smack!' Each was
so forceful that it indented her buttocks and drove her hips forward.
However, except for her first surprised exclamation, Janine didn't stop
her moans. Instead, each blow of the strap caused her voice to
momentarily increase in loudness, as if it thrilled her. Her eyes again
closed. 

Janine was masturbating more diligently. Her fingers rapidly flicked her
clitoris, and three fingers of her other hand stabbed up her vagina. 

The men watched intently. The seated one, closest to the doorway, turned
to look at Sheila and Kelly. When he observed them return his look, he
unzipped his fly. His penis, caged by the taut tent of his trousers
swung upward like a stepped-on rake. He encircled it in his fingers, and
began pumping it. 

The man stared at the girl beside Sheila. He asked, "Aren't you,
uh--Kelly? One of the trainers?" 

Kelly nodded. "Yes, Master. But I'm just learning. Nina is more
experienced than I am. The other trainers are all men." 

He waved his hand impatiently. "Oh, I know that. I'm interested in you.
Especially because you're inexperienced. Crane tells me that Janine is
just beginning her training. You can help us with her." 

"This isn't the Training Room, Master." 

"No, but she's playing with herself for us. We want her to give herself
an orgasm. My friend will keep whipping her until she does." 

"Why do you need me, Master?" 

"To be sure that she doesn't fake one. Be a good girl, Kelly. Kneel in
front of Janine. Watch her clit for us. Get very close." 

Kelly flushed. "B-But, Master," she stuttered. "Sh-She might . . . " She
hesitated, her face red for some reason. 

Why is she so reluctant? 

All of the seated men had turned their attention to Kelly. They were
smiling, awaiting her response. 

The man who had just spoken reached into a trouser pocket. He drew out a
coil of black leather. He pulled off the rubber band that encircled it
in order to uncoil it. It was a strap, shorter but thicker than the one
that was turning Janine's rump a rosy hue. He laid it on his lap to the
side of his protruding organ. 

Kelly's eyes widened when she saw the strap. 

"All right, Master," she finally said. She took the few steps to the
masturbating girl and knelt on the carpet. 

Ignoring the impacts to her buttocks or, perhaps, stimulated by them,
Janine fingered herself furiously, her moans growing louder. She stood
in a half-crouch, her eyes closed. She didn't see Kelly. 

She began to deliberately move her hips. She thrust forward violently
each time that the strap struck her rump. Her right hand was cupped over
her clit, her fingers spread as she flicked it. Her other hand was
further down, her fingers stabbing. 

The man whipping her abruptly stopped, and he looked down at Kelly.
"Move closer!" he told her. 

"Yes, Master." Kelly said, blushing. 

She moved her knees a few inches forward on the thick carpet, until her
arms touched the brunette's legs. The moment she did, Janine emitted a
loud cry. Fluid spurted from her vulva. It struck Kelly full in the
face. Kelly jerked her head back, but she was too close. The liquid
continued to squirt from between Janine's spreading fingers, in streak
after streak. It doused Kelly's face, and streamed down to course from
her chin like a waterfall. It ran down onto her dress and her legs,
where it trickled between her thighs and onto the carpet. 

The men watched in obvious pleasure. The one holding the whip leaned
down. He told her, "Open your mouth, Kelly; you know what we want. Do
it!" 

Kelly had turned her head to the side. Red-faced, she turned her head
back. She parted her lips. 

The men watched avidly, smiles on their faces. 

Janine opened her eyes and looked down and blushed. The kneeling girl
was obeying the man's directive, but awkwardly. Each time she closed her
lips to gulp, more fluid squirted. Sheila wanted to look away. 

The man who was masturbating, stood up. He was still pumping his organ.
He turned to Sheila and pulled the chain that linked her handcuffs to
her collar. She staggered and nearly fell. 

"You get down too, Blondie," he ordered. "On your knees!" He pulled
downward, hard. 

Sheila fell to her knees. 

The moment she did, he removed his hand from the chain. He grasped a
clump of her hair, gripping her tresses close to her scalp. She was
unable to move her head. A moment later his penis, held in his other
hand, spurted. 

Sheila closed her eyes, pressing her lips together. She tried to breathe
through her nose. She wanted to turn her head, but couldn't--the grip
holding her scalp hair hurt too much. By the time his ejaculation
subsided, her face was coated. The reek filled her nostrils. 

Kelly moved backward on her knees, awkwardly, her eyes closed. She
pulled up the hem of her skirt, ignoring her nakedness under it. She
used the dress to wipe her eyelids. She glanced at Sheila, whose eyes
were closed, and then turned to the man who had ordered her to kneel. 

"May we go now, Master?" she asked. "Master Crane ordered me to prepare
this blonde girl for the auction. I'll be in big trouble if I don't." 

The man was busy wiping his penis in Sheila's hair, and he ignored her
words until he had finished. 

Finally he looked at Kelly. "We'll use Janine for the rest of the
afternoon. You can go." 

Chapter 17: The Senator Pays Crane a Visit 

Crane looked up from his desk. "Sarah," he said mildly; "Please try to
keep your voice down, would you?" 

"Oh god, Master!" she exclaimed. "Please let me use my hands! Please." 

"Am I going to have to gag you again?" 

She quieted. 

Crane's cellphone rang. 

Perhaps Jeffrey found the source of the problem. 

He was hardly able to hear the young man's voice through the static. 

"Crane! Can you hear me?" 

"Just barely, Jeffrey. Did you find where the problem is?" 

"Yeah. The storm last night. It knocked down the tower. The dish is on
the ground." 

"That's why I couldn't get the mainland." 

"Right. And the Net either--if you tried to." 

"How badly is it damaged? When can you get the phones working?" 

"No really serious damage. Sand took most of the impact. I'll need a
couple of males from the shop, though, to put the tower back and fix the
cables. I think we should set the tower in concrete." 

"I'll see to it. Where should they meet you?" 

"In the shop, Crane. There's nothing I can do here until the dish is
back in place." 

The moment that Crane disconnected, the phone rang again. 

"Crane here." 

It was Nina. The static was less and her voice clearer than Jeff's had
been. "Master Crane, there's a Senator . . . uh, Aylesworth here. He
insists on coming up to see you." 

"It's O.K., Nina. Send him up. Oh, pick a couple of males from the shop
to help Jeff fix these phones. Find someone who has done wiring and
someone who's laid concrete." 

"Jesus! Wiring and concrete? Those two don't exactly go together. Oops!
I'm sorry, Master Crane." She paused. "I'll try to find one of each." 

"By the way, the Senator's name is Ellsworth." 

"Oh. Well, he has a southern accent. That's why I got it wrong. Should I
have a guard accompany him?" 

"No. Just give him directions to my office. I don't . . . " Crane
stopped. 

The Senator is a snoop. On his way up here, he's liable to look in every
unlocked room. 

"Change that, Nina. Send a guard up with him." 

I wonder why Ellsworth wants to see me? He's a chiseler. The auction's
this afternoon. He probably has in mind some way to cheat it. 

* * * 

"Master?" Sarah said. "Do I have to stay like this when that Master
Ellsworth comes up? This is awfully embarrassing, sitting on this
vibrator. He'll hear it." 

"Yes you do, Sarah. Don't interrupt when Ellsworth is in here, either." 

"Even if your alarm goes off?" 

"Yes. Now please be quiet." 

* * * 

There was a knock on the door. 

"Come in!" 

The door opened, and the Senator stepped in. 

He paused for a moment when he saw Sarah sitting on the wooden chair
that stood facing Crane's desk between the two leather covered chairs.
He walked to the one on Crane's left and sat in it. 

"I'd like this to be private, Crane," he said. 

"Anything we say here will be, Ellsworth," Crane replied. "Sarah won't
say anything about what occurs in here. She's my personal slave." 

"Yet, someday you may allow her to leave the island, Crane. I insist
that you send her from the room." 

Interesting. Ellsworth has something illegal in mind. Something he
doesn't want known in the States. 

Crane opened his left bottom drawer and retrieved his espresso tazita. 

"Sarah," he said. "You can get up now. Turn off the vibrator. Take it
and this into your room. By the time Master Ellsworth and I are done, I
expect you to have this half full. Understand?" 

"Half full?!" Sarah gasped, her face turning red "I-I don't know if I
can do that!" 

Crane paused a moment to emphasize his words. "Use the vibrator. Come as
often as you want. I want it half-full. You'll get a whipping if you
don't." 

The two men watched the blushing girl until she left the room and closed
the door behind her. 

Ellsworth is a cool customer. He didn't make a single comment when Sarah
got off the vibrator. 

"All right, Ellsworth. What is it that you want to talk about?" 

"Crane, you're from Puerto Rico and as such, you're a citizen of the
United States. I am one of your nation's lawmakers. Kindly call me
properly--by my title of Senator.." 

Crane sat back in his chair. 

"Cut the bullshit, Ellsworth," he said. "On this island you're just
another client. Your importance to me is nothing more than the source of
some of my income." 

The Senator gave Crane one of his cold stares. Crane smiled. 

I suppose the old fart intimidates people with those beady-eyes. He's
big, but badly out of shape. I wonder if he'll try to strong-arm me? 

"I have powerful contacts, Crane," the Senator said, grimly. "You may
think that being out of the jurisdiction of the United States that you
have immunity. You don't. You're playing a risky game on this island,
and I could destroy all you've built up here over the five years that
you've been here." 

"Look Ellsworth, if you don't get down to telling me why you're here
wasting my time, I won't even bother to have my men throw you out. I'll
do it myself." 

Ellsworth stared, his face stony. Finally, he said, "Crane, you'll find
that I'm easy to deal with if you cooperate with me. If you don't, I can
do more than make your operation here difficult. Think about it." 

Crane stood up. "I'm ready to throw your three hundred pounds of blubber
out of my office right now, Ellsworth!" 

He strode to the Senator's chair and grasped the politician's fat arm,
just above the elbow. He squeezed. 

"Unh!" the Senator exclaimed, gasping. Abruptly, he stood up, and he
ripped his arm away from Crane. He was taller than Crane by two inches,
and perhaps fifty pounds heavier. 

Whew! This whale is stronger than I thought. I must have forgotten my
old motto--never underestimate your opponent. Blubber or not, he's got
muscles under it all. 

"Surprised you, didn't I, Crane?" the Senator said, grinning. "I was
star wrestler on the '61 'bama team. You'll be sorry if you try strong
arm tactics with me." 

"You're still on my turf, Ellsworth. Say what you came up for or I'll
get you out of here- -one way or another." 

"Fair enough, Crane." The Senator re-seated himself, and Crane returned
behind his desk. 

"I came to discuss the auction," Ellsworth said. " I want one of the
young women in your latest shipment. I don't intend to become involved
in a bidding war with another client over her. I think that you and I
can come to an agreement over her price and I'll guarantee that you'll
get that amount. There's no need for clearing of a personal check with
all the risks you must have with those. I'll pay you for her in cash." 

Is this all he was so secretive about? 

"Who's the female, Ellsworth?" 

"Her name is Sheila Ericson. She's a blonde. Very shapely, with . . . " 

"I know who she is. She's exactly the type of female that most clients
are looking for. I can understand your not wanting to get into the
bidding, Ellsworth. Unless you're a lot more wealthy than I think you
are, there are a half-dozen clients here who can outbid you. Your
offering me cash is no incentive for me to bend the rules. Most clients
pay me in cash as it is. It leaves no paper trail." 

"I recommend that you bend your rules for me, Crane. I'm a dangerous man
to cross. I may be on your turf right now, but in the States and in
Washington, I have considerable influence." 

"No deal, Ellsworth. If that's all you have to say, you can get up now,
and leave." 

The Senator looked grim. "I'll give you some time to think it over,
Crane. I suggest that you postpone the auction until tomorrow to
consider it. I'm prepared to go as high as fifteen for the girl." 

Crane stood up. "No dice. You can leave now." 

The Senator remained seated. "There is one more item on my agenda,
Crane. I have a female for you. She isn't the type that you or I would
prefer to use for a sex slave, but a number of my colleagues in
Washington consider her quite desirable. I should think you would at
least get the minimum for her. She is pretty, and she has a good body
although she got shortchained in the tits and ass department. I'll throw
her in with the fifteen, in exchange for the blonde." 

"Forget about the Ericson girl, Ellsworth. You'll have to bid for her in
the auction. As for this other girl, it seems to me you're trying to
dump a white elephant on me. Your assumption that some client will pay
ten grand for her sounds like a sales pitch to me. I don't like
surprises. I sure the fuck don't like surprises that involve extra work
for me. 

"Just who is this female? Some old girl friend you're trying to dump?
You know all about Yvonne's album--I like to have at least some photos
of a female before I'll bring her ashore. Is she on the ship?" 

The Senator nodded. He withdrew an envelope from a pocket of his shirt.
"I brought several photographs of her." He tossed the envelope onto
Crane's desk. 

Crane took out the photos. There were four of them. Polaroids, of a
brunette. Two were of her tied across a bed. The other two were of her
standing, full frontal nudity, legs apart, hands behind her. Probably
handcuffed. 

She looks thirty or so. Really sexy. I could go for her myself. Not that
I'll tell Ellsworth that. He obviously likes big tits and ass, and
probably blondes, too. 

"She's too skinny," Crane said. "And she looks older than any client
would want. I'm not interested, Ellsworth." 

The Senator frowned. 

Got him worried. What's he going to do with her if I won't take her? 

Ellsworth cleared his throat. "I'm prepared to make a concession, Crane.
Put Judith up for the auction. Reduce your minimum for her. Surely one
of the clients will take her in preference to not having a slave. You'll
make some money from her, perhaps even the minimum. I'll take just half
as my fee." 

"Tell me about her," Crane said. "Is she in your cabin on Yvonne's
ship?" 

The Senator nodded. "Her name is Judith Sterling. She's a lawyer. I've
heard that you try out some of these girls yourself, Crane. If you do,
I'll give you a pointer. She's experienced sexually, but I'd call her
just a so-so fuck. Have her give you head. She's a great cock-sucker." 

"O.K., Ellsworth," Crane agreed. "Whatever she sells for in the auction,
I'll split with you." 

Chapter 18: Crane Abuses the French Consul's Daughter, Janine	

Crane was fond of mysteries and he was in his bedoom reading, holding a
Chandler novel in one hand. It was an hour and a half after dinner, and
he was sitting in the cushioned armchair that faced the foot of his bed.
Beside him on the lamp table was a full goblet and a half-empty bottle
of red Bordeaux. He sipped from the glass as he read. 

Behind him was the open door to his living room. One of the two doors to
his right, the one to his bathroom, was also ajar. But, the door next to
it, was closed and locked. It had been since dinner time. Occasionally a
prolonged moan came through the closed door, but the sounds, from
feminine vocal cords, seldom distracted him from his book. On the odd
occasion when they did, Crane ascribed it to some amusing thought that
it evoked, such as Mike's complaints about all the batteries that Sarah
was consuming. 

I'll tell her to use corded vibrators more, despite their restricting
her to the proximity of outlets. Once, Crane's orders to Sarah had
necessitated that she take more than three hours of persistent vibrator
use, one to her clitoris and another in her vagina. Now she had an
impressive supply of vibrators but she no longer required more than one.
Sarah had given up counting her orgasms, Crane knew that. There were too
many. When he asked, he knew that she lied, but he didn't care, so long
as she understood that he wanted her to have a lot of them. 

Every night, Crane compelled her to devote two hours to producing cunt
juice. 

Crane's reading was interrupted by a knock on the living room door. 

Turning his head, Crane called, "It's open; come in!" 

It was Kelly. She led in Janine by a leash. The brunette's wrists were
manacled tightly behind her back to a taut chain to the back of her
collar. She was dressed in a first day trainee's uniform. The hem of her
white nylon blouse ended above her navel. She wore a pleated cotton
skirt with black and white stripes. Her long legs were covered by black
nylon thigh-high hose. Crane assumed that under her skirt, she was
naked. Through her semi-transparent blouse he could see her nipples.
That at least confirmed her lack of brassiere. Black velvet slippers
covered her stockinged feet. 

He glanced at the clock. Exactly nine-thirty. "Is she all ready?" he
inquired. 

"Nina told me how you intend to use her, and I prepared her myself." She
put her hand over her mouth to cover a smile. "Suppose I tie her face
down on the bed? You can use her whenever you want. You'll only need to
pull up her skirt." 

Crane pondered. 

He glanced at Kelly. She was observing Janine's expression, a smirk on
her face. She probably was hoping for some reaction to her words from
the brunette. But Janine--for once--was impassive. Perhaps the trainers
had whipped the brunette enough so she'd finally learned the value of
remaining silent. 

"No," Crane decided. "I'll use her standing up. Tie her facing the foot
of the bed. Have her bent over the bar with her head and body on the
bedspread. Not too far up on it. I want her ass to be accessible." 

"I get turned on when I see a girl get it between the cheeks," Kelly
said. 

"You do?" Crane responded, surprised. He shrugged. "Well, I certainly
find female buttocks alluring." 

Kelly withdrew several sets of handcuffs from her shoulder bag and
carried them to the foot of the bed. 

"Oh, Kelly," he added; "tie her so her legs are apart. I want to play
with her cunt while I use her ass." 

"Yes, Master. I'll manacle her ankles to the bed legs. That will keep
her thighs well- apart. Come to the bed, Janine," she said. 

The brunette didn't move, and Kelly had to reach for the leash, which
was hanging from a ring in Janine's collar directly beneath her chin.
She pulled it with a sudden, hard jerk. 

Janine stumbled and nearly fell. The young woman gave Kelly an angry
look, but she said nothing. She followed Kelly to the foot of the bed. 

She pretends that the whippings don't affect her, but it appears that
she's learning. So, perhaps they do. Kelly knelt, and she pulled
Janine's leg close to one pair of handcuffs that she had attached to the
foot of the bed on the right side. She clamped the open cuff about the
girl's ankle. 

She moved on her knees to the left side, grasped Janine's other ankle,
and pulled. "Lift your foot!" she ordered. 

"The bed legs are too far apart!" Janine complained. She was obliged to
spread her legs wide apart in order to reach the other open cuff, which
Kelly then clamped about her left ankle. 

"You'll survive," Kelly said, and she stood up. 

* * * 

Five years previously, when Crane took over management of the island,
his assignment was to produce as much money as possible from the
endeavor. He had to keep meticulous records of how he spent his backers'
initial infusion of capital as well as incoming receipts from clients.
Aside from those two provisos, Crane was allowed considerable latitude
in his modus operandi. 

Crane had not been slow in deriving fringe benefits from his assignment.

Soon after the first shipment of females arrived, Crane put the
machinists who had constructed the Training Center, to work on modifying
his own quarters and bed. The machinists modified his bed, providing it
with restraints of several types, including manacles that allowed him to
position a female for use in whatever manner that he fancied. 

The workmen had welded handcuffs, chains, and hooks to the sides of the
bed frame at positions halfway down its length, and at its head and
foot. After modifying his bed, the machinists positioned brackets with
attached handcuffs to the walls of his bedroom. When their work was
complete, at least three females could be quartered simultaneously in
his suite, kept suitably manacled for his use at any hour, day or night.

The initial shipment of females to the island amounted to six. They
arrived one month before the arrival of the first clients. Crane
explained to his backers that a month was necessary for training
trainers as well as for training the first slaves. On arrival of the six
girls, Crane selected three for his own use. These were positioned in
the three wall mounts in his apartment, their wrists and ankles gripped
by manacles. The three remaining females were stored in basement cells
for use later. 

After a week, Crane allowed the trainers to remove the first three girls
and take them down to the basement Training Center for slave training.
They were replaced in his apartment by the remaining three; these
serviced Crane for the following week. 

The island became a year-round resort for wealthy men who sought sexual
outlet of sorts that they could not readily obtain elsewhere. Gradually,
even a few wealthy, adventure- seeking women sojourned on the island. 

Crane continued his practice of enjoying newly abducted girls. 

However, he became discriminating. He took only females in whom he took
some interest. That interest might be general, meaning that he found the
girl desirable. He would use such a girl in any number of ways,
depending on his mood. His interest in her might be specific, as it was
with buxom girls. Such a girl he fucked exclusively between the breasts,
culminating the act by ejaculating between her widely parted lips. 

Sometimes the contours of a female's buttocks attracted his notice. With
that type, he satisfied himself exclusively in her ass. A girl with
attractive, chubby buttocks might spend every night tied face down on
his bed. Such a girl was often the least fortunate, as Crane frequently
fell asleep after an orgasm, sometimes while the girl was still
cushioned beneath him, his cock stuffed in her anus. 

When Kelly had finished manacling Janine's ankles to the legs of the
bed, Janine was left standing with her bare belly against the bar at the
foot of the bed. 

Crane stood up then. He walked to the bed. He looked at Janine. The
brunette returned a venomous look. 

"Aren't you ashamed to rape helpless women?" she said. 

"Not at all," Crane replied. 

Crane felt an urge to explain his motives to the young woman. He
supposed that the fact that her face and figure appealed to his taste
was part of the reason. In any event, he desisted: It might allow her to
resist training, at least to some extent. 

Janine, we use the stick and the carrot. They are just as effective here
as they are in any school. You'll be punished only when you fail to
learn. If you act in ways we instruct you to, we'll reward you.
Initially, you'll do our bidding to avoid the whip. Eventually you'll do
it because it thrills you. 

"Bend over the bar," he told her. 

She did nothing. 

Crane shoved her. He pushed between her shoulder blades and forced her
over the bar until she was face down on the coverlet. Janine was bent at
the hips in the position Crane wanted her, with her buttocks protruding
to the rear. Her short skirt had crept up until it covered only the very
tops of her buttocks, the slight depression just below her coccyx. Their
hills were in full view, as were her genitals. As a result of her
wide-spread legs, her labia gaped open. Crane could see her pink inner
lips in their entirety, unobscured by her outer ones, with their
enclosing oval of black fur. 

Kelly re-attached the leash to a ring at the back of Janine's collar.
She pulled the grip end toward the head of the bed and tied it firmly to
a vertical bar. Janine would be unable to raise her shoulders, even one
inch, from the counterpane. 

When they had finished, the brunette was bent forward at the hips over
the bar, with her upper body prone on the counterpane. Janine lay
helpless, her head on the coverlet, cheek down. All she could do was
watch and wait. 

Crane moved the armchair until it faced the foot of the bed and Janine's
rear. He took a key that lay beside the wine bottle. 

"Kelly," he said; holding it out; "Sarah is in the playroom. Please ask
her to come out. Be sure she brings the two vibrators that she's been
using." 

"Yes, Master." 

She took the key from his upturned palm. She gave Crane a smirk, "I
could tell something good was going on in there!" 

She unlocked the closed door. However, instead of opening it, she gave
the wood three hard knuckle-raps. 

"Yes Master?!" came Sarah's voice. "I-I'm not ready, yet, Master. Please
give me another fifteen min . . ." 

"Sarah, it's me!" Kelly yelled. "Master Crane wants you out, now!" 

"He does? Uh, wait a sec, Kelly. I'm, uh, stark, you know. I need to
throw on some clothes." 

"I don't think Master Crane wants you dressed, Sarah. He has work for
you." 

"B-But . . . does he want me like this?" 

Crane observed Kelly's smile and couldn't resist smiling himself. He
drained the goblet. 

"Hurry up!" Kelly urged. "Come as you are!" and she rattled the knob. 

The door opened. Sarah was in the doorway, naked and blushing. She
looked over at Crane. "Do you really want me like this, Master?" 

"Yes. Where are the vibrators?" 

"Oops!" 

She turned about, disappeared and quickly reappeared. She trotted
through the doorway, her B cup breasts bouncing. She was holding two
almond-colored plastic, smoothie vibrators in one hand. 

Crane said, "Kelly, you can leave. Get back downstairs and help Nina and
the men." 

"Yes, Master." Kelly left the room. A moment later Crane heard the door
living room door open and close. 

Sarah stopped, halfway across the room. She gave a puzzled look at the
young woman who was bound over the bar at the foot of Crane's bed. "I
don't recognize her, Master. Is she a new trainee?" 

He nodded. "Her name is Janine. I want you to help me with her, Sarah." 

"Yes Master." She held out her hand. Her fingers gripped the vibrators
by their rear ends. "These are still juicy. Do you want her to clean
them?" 

"How about the cup? Is it half full?" 

"Oh! I'm sorry, Master." She looked down, blushing. 

"It--It's only about a quarter full. I was enjoying myself, Master. I-I
didn't realize that you wanted me to hurry. I'll get a whip from the top
drawer. Do you want the cat or the strap?" 

"I'm not going to whip you. Let me give you a bit of advice. Never hurry
when you play with yourself. You'll be less juicy, not more." 

"But, what about her, Master, Crane? Don't you need a whip for her?" 

"Yes. Janine requires more coercion than I anticipated. A few days ago,
whipping only embarrassed her. We had to whip her roommate before she
would comply." 

"Really?" Sarah said. She smiled. "May I make a suggestion, Master?" 

"I'm listening." 

"I know you don't use it much, Master," she said, "but why not use your
prod on her?" 

Crane raised his eyebrows. 

I wonder if Sarah has ever felt a prod herself? Perhaps she saw it used
when the guards told all the new girls to undress. How many females here
would suggest that? Maybe I'll promote her to a third female trainer.
But let's see if she has the balls for it. "Where would you propose I
apply it to her?" he asked. "Well," she said, looking down at the
brunette; "You can't touch her boobs. Not with her face down like that.
But she's still in a good position for it. The breasts aren't the only
places where a girl is sensitive. Shall I get your prod?" 

"Get my whip and prod, both. There are two whips in my top drawer; get
me the one with a strap, not the stranded one. I haven't used the prod
in a while, so it's probably buried on the bottom under clothing." 

Sarah had been holding the two vibrators gingerly by their bases as if
their bodies were too hot to grip. She set them down on the lamp table
beside the wine bottle, balancing them on their flat rear ends. 

Sarah moved past the girl to the dresser at the opposite side of the
room. She withdrew a strap from the top drawer. She rummaged further,
and found the prod. Its shape was phallic, but its size was perhaps half
again larger than the average man's erect organ. Its shaft was plastic,
the color of flesh. Its bulbous head was metallic and as reflective as a
mirror. 

Hearing Sarah close the drawer, Janine opened her eyes. She stared,
wide-eyed, as Sarah carried the prod in one hand and the whip in the
other, to Crane. 

"I'll do the persuading," Crane said. "You instruct her." 

"Yes Master," Sarah replied. 

Sarah grasped the two vibrators by their bases with her fingers, and she
carefully removed them from the table. She perused each. 

"Still nice and juicy," she said. She gave Janine a smile. 

Crane stood up. He inserted the whip in his belt scabbard and shoved the
prod into a trouser pocket. He went behind Janine and drew up her skirt.
This time, instead of laying the hem over her back, he tucked it firmly
up under the back of her blouse. It left the brunette naked from above
the waist to the tops of her black nylon thigh-highs. 

"Doesn't this look good, Janine?" he heard Sarah ask. "I'll bet you've
sucked on lots of things that look like this. First, put out your tongue
and clean it. You know what's on it, don't you? Here. Smell." 

"Ugh!" the brunette exclaimed. "That's disgusting! Take it away!" She
tried to turn her head, but Sarah jerked the already taut leash upward
like a bowstring, and Janine's movement only served to choke her, and
she desisted. 

Crane lowered his hands to her labia. He gripped her delicate pink inner
ones with his fingertips and thumbs and spread them wide. Janine
exclaimed, "Oh--stop that!" 

"Master," Sarah said, holding up the vibrator; "she won't lick this.
You'll have to use the whip." 

Crane shook his head. 

"I don't think that will do it, Sarah. I whipped her yesterday. It
didn't intimidate her at all." 

"Well, Master," Sarah responded, smiling. "She's in a perfect position
for your prod." 

Crane handed it to her. "I'll let you do it, Sarah. Where are you going
to use it?" 

"Her clit." 

Janine gasped, and her eyes grew wide. When she saw Sarah wielding the
prod, she abruptly exclaimed, "Oh!--don't use that thing on me! Please!
I'll--I'll do what you want!" 

Crane looked at Janine. He was surprised that she knew what the prod
was. Even if she'd seen a common cattle prod somewhere, Crane's was too
phallic in shape. It looked far more like a dildo than a cattle prod.
Except for its generally rod-like form, it bore little resemblance to
one. 

Someone must have used one on her. I'll find out. Sarah lay the prod on
the bed and again took up the vibrator. She gripped it with her
fingernails about its base so the tip, with a dangling droplet, was
directly before Janine's mouth. "Put out your tongue," she said. Janine
grimaced, and her face grew pink. Hesitantly, she put out her tongue.
Sarah drew the tip over it, transfering elastic fluid to her tongue.
"Ugh!" Janine said. "Open your mouth wider," Sarah ordered. Janine gave
a pleading look, up at Crane. He nodded. "Open your mouth." "Open up!"
Sarah ordered. "Or I'll use this!" Janine grimaced, closing her eyes.
Reluctantly, she parted her lips. Sarah smiled and pushed the smoothie
between them. She continued to shove, until the brunette gagged. "Suck!"
Sarah told her. Janine pursed her lips about it. Her cheeks grew
concave. "Good!" Sarah exclaimed. "Keep sucking. Show us the treat that
you give to all the boys." Janine, flushing, opened her eyes. She gave
Crane a helpless, pleading look. "Suck!" Sarah repeated. Tears trickled
from Janine's from her eyes. Sarah held the smoothie between Janine's
lips, using her wrist like a hinge to match the tempo of Janine's
cheeks. When Janine sucked, Sarah thrust the smoothie between the girl's
lips, and when Janine blew, she withdrew it. Crane used his fingers to
explore the brunette's vulva. He moved his fingers in an oval, slowly
and lightly, parting her labia as they went. Janine began to tremble. 

Her voice was garbled by the object in her mouth, but Crane was able to
understand her desperate, "Stop ub it, ub, blease!" 

Crane put his fingers to his mouth to moisten them. He inserted his
wettened middle finger in Janine's vagina. He used his other fingers to
spread her inner labia. He stroked up and down between them. 

Janine pulled her mouth from the smoothie. "Stop it, please! Master
Crane, please don't do that!" 

Sarah brought the second smoothie to the bed. In a sweet voice, she
said, "Open your mouth again, Janine." 

Instead, by twisting desperately, Janine succeeded in turning her head
away. Her chin rested on the coverlet, her countenance facing the head
of the bed. 

"Sarah," Crane said, "Wipe the rest of it on her lips and face. Then
give the vibrator to me." 

"Yes, Master," Sarah replied. She deftly spun the instrument, wiping the
entire surface of the vibrator across the lower half of Janine's face.
It left her cheeks and lips coated with a glistening film. A droplet
trickled down her chin and was blotted by the coverlet. 

"Ugh!" Janine complained again. She moved her head from side to side in
attempts to wipe her face on the bed covering. "That's disgusting!" 

"It's part of your training," Sarah said. "You'll learn to like all
kinds of juices, Janine." 

Crane switched on the vibrator. He inserted its tip between Janine's
inner labia into the opening of her vagina. 

Janine emitted a sudden, "Oh!!" She immediately began to tremble. 

Crane moved the vibrating rod slowly forward, tracing a spiral path.
When it was an inch in, and her labia were vibrating from its contact,
he inserted his forefinger into her. He found her G-spot and replaced
his finger with the head of the vibrator. He pressed buzzing the head
down on the spot, and he moved it in a small, oval path, round and
round, holding it down firmly. 

"Oooh!" Janine exclaimed again. "Stop please, oh stop!" 

Her face red, she avoided meeting either Crane's eyes or Sarah's. 

Janine squirmed, and she thust forward to pull away from the pressure of
the vibrating instrument. She jerked her hips from side to side, but her
manacled ankles kept her legs and thighs so far apart that she was
virtually immobilized. She was unable to move her buttocks more than an
inch in each direction. Crane kept it close to her G spot, rhythmically
pressing down and releasing the force upon it. Crane held the smoothie
lightly but firmly, and Janine's struggles only aided him. 

Janine cried, "Oh please stop, please. Oh. Oh!" Her eyes closed. 

Crane spread her labia with his free hand. He explored between them with
three fingers. His digits slithered easily along the inside of the
velvety inner lips: She was wet, her vulva slippery. He drew his
forefinger up to the crest of her labia. A swelling had pushed back its
hood. 

"Her clit is hard, Sarah," he said. "Come here." 

"Yes Master," she said. Sarah slipped from the bed and went around to
its foot. She watched as Crane flicked Janine's clit with one hand and
moved the smoothie in and out of her vagina with the other. 

He withdrew his hands and the vibrator from Janine's genitals. 

"Get down on your knees," Crane said. "Suck her clit. Shove your nose in
her vagina." 

Sarah blushed. "But . . . " she began. She looked confused, and she
looked at Crane questioningly. 

"I'm serious, Sarah," Crane said. "I know you've never done a female.
It's time to. Get down on your knees. Suck and lick her clit. It's
erect." 

Sarah looked down at Janine's genitals. The brunette's labia were
swollen and parted, her vulva exposed and glistening. 

She hesitated. Crane undid his belt and unzipped his fly. "You heard me,
Sarah. Will I have to discipline you?" 

"No, Master!" she exclaimed. She quickly went to her knees between
Janine's wide- spread legs. 

Crane removed his trousers and undershorts. 

Sarah looked up at him and at his erect organ. Then she turned to
Janine's sex organs. She leaned forward and inserted her tongue between
Janine's labia. She began licking. 

"Oh my god!" Janine exclaimed. 

Crane undid the cap to the tube of Vaseline. He coated his penis its
entire length with the lubricant. 

"Janine," he asked; "Have you been fucked in the ass before?" 

"No! Don't do that--please!" she cried, eyes wide. She twisted her head
on the bed. She saw him holding his erect organ and the tube. 

"Try to relax," he said. "If you do, it won't hurt. Did Kelly lubricate
you?" 

"Y-Yes," she mumbled. "Oh, please. I don't want that! Please!" 

"Keep licking her," he told Sarah. He bent over Sarah and grasped her
bare shoulders. "Is her clit still hard?" he asked. 

"Mmm-hmm," she said, moving her head up and down, slightly. 

"Move further between her legs," he said. He gently pushed her bare
shoulders. 

Sarah moved forward, awkwardly, moving each knee in turn. She crept
under the angle of Janine's spread thighs, working her shoulders between
them. She was compelled to lean her head back in order to keep her mouth
in contact with the brunette's genitals. 

"I'm going to straddle your head, Sarah," Crane said, looking down. He
could see Sarah's eyes looking up at him, but the rest of her face was
hidden beneath the hills of Janine's buttocks. 

Crane grasped Sarah's head and pulled it up and worked it until he was
certain that Sarah's face was firmly within the gaping labia. 

"You'll be a bit uncomfortable," he said. "If it's too hard to breathe,
then don't suck quite as much. But keep licking." 

Sarah mumbled something that he guessed was "Mmm-hmm," and she moved her
head in a nod. 

He straddled her naked back, and felt his testicles drag from her hair
onto her forehead. He grasped Janine's bare hips below the raised skirt.
He worked his vaseline-coated shaft into the crack of her buttocks. He
moved his hips carefully about until the head of his cock found her
anus. Gripping her, he pressed forward. He moved his hips from side to
side and forced the head into the tight orifice. He felt it suddenly
slip forward and get gripped by her sphincter. 

"Oooh, stop! Stop!! Please!" the brunette cried. 

"Relax, Janine. It won't hurt if you relax your muscles." 

"Oooh!" she moaned. Her body shuddered on the bed. 

Kelly did a good job lubricating her. She's full of vaseline. Once she
relaxes, she'll enjoy it. 

He moved forward and back slowly, to ensure that the lubricant was well
spread. Then he increased the force of his forward pressure. His shaft
moved deeper. Her buttocks parted further as the shaft, thicker than the
head, penetrated further and widened her orifice. 

Crane heard wet sounds from below, and he imagined Sarah's tongue
working the length of Janine's swollen vulva. He looked down, trying to
see Sarah's face, but Janine's buttocks and his cock and balls impeded
his view. 

"Keep licking!" he ordered. He began moving his hips forward and back.
His cock went deeper with each thrust. 

"Mmm-hmm!" Sarah mumbled. 

As she licked, her nodding head sent thrills up from his testicles,
bouncing them back and forth from her eyelids to her forehead. 

With each thrust, Crane buried his organ between Janine's chubby cheeks
and his belly flattened them. The warmth and tightness about his cock
imparted sensations almost too thrilling to resist. Crane regretted that
he hadn't gained some relief earlier. It would be impossible to resist
the pleasure for long. 

He could--and should--have masturbated when Sarah first began licking
Janine's cunt. He could have stood at the side of the bed, close to
Janine's head and masturbated to an orgasm. Bound with her wrists to
each side, she'd have been unable to do much to avoid the spurts when he
ejaculated. As it was, in order to enjoy her to the utmost, Crane
periodically had to stop his thrusts. 

Janine had stopped all her protests. She was moaning, continually. Each
thrust of his hips caused his abdomen to strike her buttocks so hard
that it drove her torso forward, and Crane was forced to grip her hips
firmly to prevent her body from moving further over the bar. 

Between his grunts, Crane could hear the smacking sounds of Sarah's
licking tongue. 

But the loudest sounds in the room were from Janine. 

"Oh god!" she suddenly exclaimed "I'm going to . . . oh!" 

Abruptly, she cried out, "Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaah!" 

Crane felt her spasms, transmitted to her anus as well as to her
genitals. 

Sarah suddenly cried out, "Jesus!" and she fell backwards onto the
carpet. 

Crane realized, first from the wettening of his testicles, and then from
looking down, that Janine was ejaculating. She was squirting in a
cone-shaped spray. Most landed on Sarah and on the carpet, but some
spattered on his balls and legs. The spasms transmitted to his excited
prick were too much to resist further, and his own orgasm overwhelmed
him. 

Crane shouted something unintelligible. His hands gripped Janine's hips,
holding them to keep his organ buried in her. He was vaguely conscious
that Janine was squirting on his legs. But his concentration was on the
pleasure, as his prick spurted again and again. His eyes closed, and
Crane visualized his shaft firing long streaks of fluid into Janine,
filling her with semen. 

Chapter 19: Kelly Pretties up Sheila for the Auction 

Kelly led Sheila by the hand back into the hall. She closed the door
behind them. 

Sheila's entire face was wet and sticky, including her forehead and
eyelids, and she was compelled to keep her eyes closed. She had once
gotten semen in her eye and it had stung terribly. 

"I'm a mess!" she exclaimed, following Kelly blindly. 

"Well, don't you worry, Sheila," the blue girl replied. "We're going to
wash you up now." 

After about a dozen steps, Kelly stopped her. "Turn right," she said,
pulling her by the hand. 

They entered a room. Sheila heard the door closed and latched. Despite
her closed eyes she could tell that the room was brightly illuminated. 

"Wait a sec," Kelly said. Sheila heard the sound of running water, and a
damp and warm facecloth was placed in her hands. 

Grateful, she wiped her face. 

She looked about. They were in a large, well-illuminated bathroom. She
saw a large bathtub, sunk in the pink, ceramic-tiled floor which was
covered in strategic places with darker pink bathrugs. She observed an
armoire just to the right of the door they had entered; on their left
stood a vanity with two sinks, a toilet, and a bidet. All four of the
walls were mirrored, except that over the vanity, which held a long
cabinet. "First," Kelly said; "Let's get that collar off." 

She withdrew a key from a pocket. She unlocked Sheila's wrist manacles,
and then the collar clasp. 

"It's good to see a fresh face in here for a change," she said, smiling.
"What's your last name, Sheila? Are you married? I guess you must be,
from the ring." 

"Ericson. I suppose it's all right for me to talk to you?" 

"In here, of course!" Kelly said, laughing. 

"Just keep your lips buttoned when the Masters are around. I suppose you
asked that because you're scared. I know that I was when I first got
here. You'll get used to things, though. Just go along with the Masters'
orders." 

She touched Sheila's neck above the collar marks, and she ran her
fingers through Sheila's hair. 

"Oh! I adore your natural blonde hair!" she exclaimed. "I used to bleach
mine to make it look decent, but since I got here I've given up doing
that. I don't have the time. I don't want to scare you, but gorgeous
females like you generate a lot of interest. You do know about the
clients, don't you?" 

Kelly was certainly loquacious. Sheila wondered how long it would be
before the girl's chatter began to bug her. 

"Yes. I know a little about them. I guess that they're the men who will
bid during this auction that that man mentioned?" 

"Yeah," Kelly confirmed. "Those five men in that room we just left are
all clients. I suppose that none of the five that we saw in there owns a
slave. If they any did, he'd have brought her down to the Executive
Lounge with him. Most clients like to watch their slave eat out another
girl. Or, vise versa. They prefer a girl who's fresh off a boat, like
the two we saw in the E.L. Girls in the E.L. are usually in training, so
they're new." 

Kelly flicked the hem of Sheila's halter. "Want to take these things
off?" 

"Am I supposed to?" 

"You sure are!" Kelly replied, grinning. 

"I have to get you all prepared to be auctioned. By the way, if you have
any questions, you might as well ask them now, while you have the
chance. I'll be bathing you and doing some other stuff. Pretty you up.
It won't be easy for you to learn anything about this place once you're
in your cell. And, if you make mistakes because you're ignorant, you'll
get whipped. Or worse." 

Sheila reached back and undid the hooks. "Did you say 'cell'?" she
asked. She gave Kelly a frown. "Am I going to be put in a cell?" 

"Mmm-hmm. You'll probably have a roommate, but she won't be able to tell
you much. Us blue girls--that's what they call us on account of these
dresses--we're the only female slaves who get around much. Some of the
male ones go all over the island. I get out sometimes. I can go to the
Pet Shop alone. That's because I'm a trainer, not just a blue girl. I
love that, to see the beach and all, and to get some sun." 

Kelly sighed, smiling. "Of course, the guys get out much more than I do.
They have to do manual labor outside. Grounds work, painting, and other
things, like carpentry and maintenance. Sometimes a hurricane comes
along and does some damage. And a lot of shop work. Did you look at all
the stocks in the Executive lounge? Well, the male slaves made all of
those. And, just wait 'til you see all the things they made in the
TeeCee! The place is loaded with things to keep you in while they work
over your tits and cunt." 

Oh my god! What can she mean by 'work over'? 

"But I get to see most of the rooms in this building," Kelly continued.
It's big, four floors plus the basement. The basement is where the cells
and the 'Torture Chamber'are." 

"'Torture Chamber'?!" Sheila felt a surge of fear. 

Kelly laughed. "I'm just kidding," she said. 

"The TeeCee is a room where they do funny things to you. Not really
torture. Unless you call a whipping 'torture'. And the whippings during
training are only to get you to cooperate. If you do what we want you to
do, you'll be okay. The virgins, or near- virgins, are usually the ones
who get whipped the most. If you're a bit used to sex, you won't get
whipped much during training. Just 'go with the flow'. 

"Anyhow, we call it the 'Torture Chamber'. The name is really a joke.
Oh," she said, pausing; "I forgot what I was getting at. I wanted to let
you know that you won't get to see much once you're in your cell, so
find out what you can before you're in it." 

Sheila wondered how much she could ask Kelly without raising in her the
suspicion that she wasn't just another aspiring model who'd been caught
in Crane's net. She might not find out anything important if she didn't
take that risk. But, Kelly didn't seem the suspicious type, and she
loved to talk, so she might be the best source of information, at least
for now. 

"Just where is this island?" Sheila asked. "It is an island, isn't it?" 

"Oh, yes, it's an island. But just where it is, well . . . everyone
wants to know that. I'm not sure any of the clients even know. I sure
don't. Only two boats come here. The big one that you and the new
clients came in on this morning, and a small one that comes here twice a
week with supplies. That's all I know. One of the male trainers told me
that he thinks this island is in the Antilles. He's from Caracas, and he
says that isn't too far from the Antilles, but I was never good at
geography, so I don't know how true that might be. 

"You can probably ask the guy who buys you. That is, if he's a
reasonable Master. Some buyers will let you talk back to them, a little.
If a woman gets you, though, watch out! Be more leery with them. Most of
them are bitches. They enjoy making you do things that humiliate you.
Some do worse things than that. Don't tell anybody I said that." 

For some time, in the back of her mind, Sheila had been fearful of what
would happen to her when she became some man's slave. 

She asked, "D-Do you have any tips about how to act so my Master treats
me well?" 

Kelly smiled. "Worried, aren't you? Well, as I said, the men are better
than the women. Except, there are some men who aren't so nice. I think
the best advice I can give is to keep in mind that you're going to be a
'fuck-toy'. By that, I don't mean to lie back and be screwed, though.
Your master is going to want to think that you're as anxious for what he
wants as he is." 

"Wh-What might that be?" 

Kelly shrugged. "Well, the clients here have pretty sophisticated
tastes, so I can't guess what your Master's fetishes might turn out to
be. But I'll give you a simple example. All the clients--male ones--like
beejays. So, whenever you think your Master is bored, or in the mood for
anything, ask if you can give him one. Pretend you really want to, like
it's the most fun thing in the world!" 

Sheila giggled. "But, I adore giving one. At least to a guy I like." 

"Well, yeah. I know what you mean. But you get the idea." 

Sheila had her clothes off by then, and Kelly tossed them into a hamper.

"I'm sure that we're pretty far south," the blue girl continued. You
don't want to stay in the sun too long here. With that skin of yours
you'll get a burn if you stay outside here for just ten minutes. With
me, I tan easy. I'd like to get out more. There's a beach down close to
the dock, but with this collar, I don't suppose there's much chance I'll
get to take a swim until I leave this place." 

"When will that be?" Sheila asked, trying to sound nonchalant. It was a
crucial question, but she didn't want to sound like an investigator. 

"When will I leave this place you mean?" Kelly asked 

Sheila nodded. 

Kelly shrugged. "Crane decides that. We never get prior notice that a
girl is going to leave. We guess, though. As long as I've been here, the
only girls who have left the island were ones who's Masters sold--or
maybe gave, I don't know--her back to Crane Crane keeps those for the
use of clients who don't have their own slaves, and the clients rent a
girl by the week or month; sometimes even just for a night. That's when
the client is throwing a party. He might rent several girls for the
night." 

Kelly laughed. "I tend to run on at the mouth, Sheila. I forgot what I
was talking about. As far as girls leaving, the only time it happens is
when Mike has his boat here. He brings us supplies twice a week, and he
takes girls back with him. That is, if Crane has any to send. Where Mike
takes them, though, I have no idea." 

She grasped Sheila's hand. "I can't waste too much time talking," she
said. "I have to get you ready. Come over to the toilet." She removed
items from a cabinet and laid them out on the vanity. She selected two. 

"Ugh!" Sheila exclaimed, staring at them. Kelly was holding a syringe
and tubing. "Are you going to give me an enema?" 

"Have to, kiddo. Lemme turn on the fan; it'll be kickin' in here soon." 

She started the water running and tossed crystals into the bathtub, an
oversized ceramic pink oval sunk in the tiled floor. By the time
Sheila's ordeal with the syringe was over, the tub was filled with
foaming and steaming water. 

"The bidet is next." 

It was opposite the toilet and Sheila had been more or less staring at
it during the previous ten minutes of having her intestines cleaned out.
She said nothing when Kelly drew the hem of her own dress up to her
waist--displaying her nakedness beneath it-- straddled the bidet, and
proceeded to demonstrate its use, despite having used one on the ship.
She didn't feel that use of one once made her an expert and wanted to
avoid any faux pas. 

"Be sure you're thorough," Kelly said. "Whoever buys you will probably
go down on you. You'll be in static if you're kickin'" 

Sheila laughed at the girl's slang. She asked, "How old are you, Kelly?"

"Eighteen. Why?" 

"I haven't heard words like that since high school." 

"Oh. I imagine that you went to college. You talk like you went to
college, except for your funny Western accent." 

Sheila smiled. She shook her head. "No, it isn't Western, it's
Midwestern," she said. "I feel like I talk like everyone, but I know I
don't. The guys where I work . . . I mean, where I once worked, used to
kid me about it." 

Oh god, what a flub! I hope Kelly didn't notice. 

"I'm originally from Illinois. I did go to college." She was so
flustered by her slip 'where I work' that she nearly added 'to
Journalism School," but caught herself at the last moment. She didn't
want anyone to guess she was a reporter. She had already flubbed once
and was uneasy about that slip. 

I hope Kelly doesn't mention it to any of the Masters. But she seems a
bit flaky; maybe she didn't notice it. 

"I dropped out of high school," Kelly admitted. "That was in Pocono.
Pennsylvania. I was thrilled to get a modeling job in my senior year. It
didn't pay great, but the men's mag people all liked me 'cause I never
minded taking my clothes off for photos. All of them had shots of me in
them, and I got to go to New York a lot. I figured I'd make a career of
it." 

She smiled ruefully. "But I have a sweet tooth. I just adore banana
splits. I started putting on the pounds. Then my jobs got fewer. I had
to take a job in a department store in Philadelphia--in the cosmetics
department--while I tried to get my weight back down. I was getting
there when I answered an ad for models in one of the mags. I got an
interview with a guy who told me his clients liked dolls who weren't all
skin and bones. I figured I had it made and I was gonna be back into the
business." 

She smiled at Sheila and shrugged. "Instead, I got snatched and brought
here." 

The temperature of the water was just right, hot but not too hot. Sheila
leaned back and soaked. She felt her tenseness slowly dissipate, and she
closed her eyes. 

"Don't take long," Kelly warned. "The Masters, like, use any little
slipup as an excuse for a whipping. By the way, you aren't a cherry, are
you?" 

"No," Sheila answered. "Were you one? I mean, when you first got here." 

Kelly shook her head. "It's lucky I wasn't. All the sex that goes on
here didn't faze me nearly as much as it did the other girls who were
taken along with me. It was really tough on some of them, especially the
training started. That's why I asked the question about you being a
cherry. Virgins get a lot of whipping, a lot more than I ever did." 

"I never got whipped much, but that's what I hated most about getting
trained. I guess some women go in for that sort of thing--you know, B
and D." 

Sheila must have shown her apprehension, because Kelly added, "Oh, if
you follow your Master's orders you'll do O.K. The only really bad
whipping most Masters will give you will be for a serious infraction.
For one of those he'll take you to the D.R." 

"The D.R.?" 

"The Discipline Room. The bad part about it is that he'll strip you
first. Or rather, he'll have a couple of guards do it. You won't like
getting whipped while you're stark naked." 

Sheila grimaced. "I hope I can avoid it. Have you been punished that
way?" 

"Once. 

"That was before I worked for Master Crane. I was pissed at my Master
and I talked back to him. I wasn't getting enough sleep, and I bitched
about all the parties he threw. 

"If he had had other girls at his parties, I wouldn't have minded. He
could have rented girls from Master Crane's supply--that's what the
other Masters do. But he's cheap. Every time he threw one, even if he
had a half a dozen guys come to it and maybe a couple of women, I was
the only entertainment. I didn't mind the sex; but the parties went on
so long that I could hardly stay awake." 

Curious, Sheila asked, "What did you say to him that got him so angry?" 

"I called him a cheap prick." 

Sheila laughed. "No wonder he whipped you!" 

"Well, he did act kind of miffed," Kelly admitted. 

"Then what happened?" 

"He called in two guards. They took all my clothes off and tied my hands
behind my back and cuffs around my ankles. The ankle cuffs have rings
attached to them like the ones on my collar." 

Sheila looked at the rings on Kelly's gold collar. There were six, and
they looked identical to those that she had about her own leather
collar. They hung ornament-like around the circumference of Kelly's.
With her forefinger Kelly flicked up the one that was under her chin. It
produced a click when it struck the brass of her collar. 

"My Master made me walk ahead of him through this building. It was full
of clients then like it is now, so you can imagine how I felt, naked
like that. He made me carry his whip; so everyone knew I was going to
the DR--the Discipline Room. 

"A lot of the clients followed us. You know, people here--and I don't
mean just clients-- like to watch a girl getting whipped. It's a
pastime!" 

Skeptical, Sheila said, "I find that hard to believe." 

"But it's true," Kelly insisted. "The DR is furnished for an audience,
including seats. Chains and manacles hang from brackets on the walls and
the ceiling. If you're ever taken there for disciplining, your Master
can have you mounted in whatever position that's convenient for
whipping. 

"A public whipping here is an event. When word gets around that a girl's
going to the DR, practically everybody goes. We blue girls go. It's
usually SRO. 

Imagining it was frightening, but Sheila was driven by curiosity. "Was
there much of an audience when you were taken there?" she asked. 

"The crowd was huge. My Master had them hang me upside down, with my
legs apart. It wasn't fun. I suppose you think the pain was the worst
part. But the worst for me was all the people watching and yelling out
suggestions while he whipped me." 

"That's horrible!" Sheila said, shivering. She hoped that whoever bought
her would never find an excuse to take her to the DR. 

She dried herself, and Kelly opened the armoire and withdrew a black
nylon shift, black thigh-high stockings, and black pumps. Displaying
them, Kelly said, "If they measured you right, these should all fit." 

Sheila reached for the dress, but Kelly told her, "Don't put them on
just yet. First comes the makeup." 

She opened drawers in the vanity. Sheila saw that they contained an
array of jars and tubes. 

"What shade do you like?" Kelly asked, picking up a tube of lipstick. 

Sheila chose one and seated herself. She was about to apply it when
Kelly took it from her hand. "I nearly forgot. I have to do your
nipples." 

It felt peculiar to sit there with Kelly holding up her breast and
working the stick around the aroela. She felt her nipples harden and she
blushed. 

Kelly laughed. "Don't let it bother you. I do it to every girl." 

"Why?" 

"To make you look as valuable as possible for the auction." 

She knelt before Sheila, wielding a pair of curled nail scissors.
"Spread your legs so I can trim your cunt hair a bit, too." 

She cupped her hand between Sheila's legs below her pudenda while she
clipped and caught the curly hairs in her palm. 

"You know," she said; looking up with a little smile; "since I've been
doing this, you're the first blonde I've met that has blonde hair here.
All the others had muffs that were light brown or dirty blond ones. None
are really light like yours." 

When she was done, she stood watching as Sheila applied makeup. When the
lipstick and other items were back in the drawer, Kelly handed Sheila
the sheath. 

"The zipper's in front," Sheila said, a little surprised. 

"Of course," Kelly said. "During the auction some guy's gonna want you
to display your wares. Anyway, didn't you notice these blue dresses?
They're buttoned in front to make our bodies easily accessible." 

The dress, sheer and black, looked like an undergarment. However, Sheila
was becoming accustomed to near-nakedness, and she said nothing. She
slipped her arms into the short sleeves and zipped it up. She looked at
herself in the mirror. It was obvious that she was naked under it; the
black nylon simply darkened her figure. She slipped on the pumps and sat
on the bench before the vanity. 

When Sheila was ready, Kelly took two wrist manacles from her bag and
clipped them with snap hooks to Sheila's collar. "I have to take you to
the auction hall with your hands cuffed. Raise your arms." 

Kelly clamped the dangling handcuffs about Sheila's wrists and she was
soon bound as the guard had manacled her in the shed. Her hands were so
elevated that her fingers touched her ears. Sheila found that it was
most comfortable to cup her fingers under her hair around the back of
her neck. But the sensation of helplessness was scary. It was impossible
to reach her breasts with her elbows, they were held so high. If she
tripped on anything she would certainly fall and be unable to catch
herself. 

"Almost ready," Kelly said. She opened a drawer and withdrew a small
prod. "I'm sorry about this. I hate to use a prod on anybody, but I'd
better do it. A Master punished me the last time I didn't. The Masters
want every girl to be obedient during the auction. The prod is so they
know what it will feel like if they aren't." 

She raised the prod to Sheila's left breast. The bump in the thin nylon
indicated that her nipple was directly before it. "I waited 'til you had
your dress on," she said. "Maybe with your dress on it won't feel so
bad. Ready?" 

Apprehensive, Sheila nodded, and she closed her eyes. She gritted her
teeth. She had been determined not to make a sound, but the blow was
like a fist against her breast, and she cried out. Tears ran down her
cheeks. It seemed like nearly a minute before she was able to stifle
them. Kelly helped her wipe her cheeks. 

When Sheila was presentable, Kelly she led her from the room back into
the hall. They were nearly in the middle of it. Sheila could see
stairwells at each far end. 

"We're going to the Salon," Kelly said. She gripped Sheila's upper arm
and led her toward the slightly closer one on their left. They climbed
three flights and exited on the fourth floor into another hall, a
duplicate of the one they had left. They took another walk and finally
entered a room on the right. 

In it, two blue girls were at work styling the hair of two girls. Sheila
recognized them as college coeds who had been on the boat with her,
Robyn and her roommate friend Mia. Kelly selected an empty styling chair
for Sheila. She sat waiting in a chair against the wall for the blue
girls to finish. 

The blue girl who'd been working on Mia was done first. As the
auburn-haired girl went to take a seat beside Kelly, the blue girl who
had just finished with her looked at Sheila. 

"Oh, wow!" she exclaimed; "Your hair really got messed up! I suppose you
had to share a bunk on the boat. But we'll fix that." 

She grasped Sheila's handcuffed wrists, helped her up from the chair.
Turning to Kelly, she asked, in an exasperated tone, "Why'd you put the
cuffs on her? You knew I had to do her hair, Kelly. Couldn't you wait to
put them on her later?" 

Kelly shrugged. She drew a key from her pocket and handed it to the
girl. 

"Crane's been pissed at me. He says I've been too easy on females who
are right off the boat. He didn't like the back talk he got from two of
them during the last auction. I'm giving the ones I handle a quick idea
of what they're in for before they go on stage." 

"Mmm-hmm," the other girl said. "Well, don't handcuff the next one. Or,
do like Nina did with these two. Taking them off wastes my time." 

Sheila saw that each girl had one cuff of a pair of handcuffs locked
about her left wrist. The other cuff dangled from the cuff that was
about her wrist. 

The blue girl hairdresser walked around Sheila. "That smooth hair will
look good in practically any style," she said. "I think I'll give it a
sexy sweep for the auction." 

She began trimming Sheila's bangs below her brows, and she tapered the
sides sharply. 

The girl working on Robyn's long hair said, "Almost done, Robyn! Just
wait 'til the clients see you, you gorgeous kid!" 

A moment later, a blue girl appeared in the doorway. She was sweating,
out of breath, and she looked harried. It was Nina. 

She glanced about the room, catching her breath. When she saw Kelly, she
exclaimed, "Here you are! Kelly, we have to go downstairs immediately.
Crane just called. He wants cock-lengths in twenty minutes!" 

"What!" the blue girl exclaimed, leaping from her chair. "Cock-lengths?
You're kidding. You mean, hard?' 

"Yeah, hard." 

"B-But, that's impossible!" 

"That's just what I told him. But he insists. He'll kill us if we don't
have them for him in . . . nineteen, by now!" 

To be continued . . .

The Author would appreciate feedback from Readers, especially:
What you'd like to see in future chapters (perversions, abuse,
body modification, or other pleasantries)
What you liked.
What you disliked.
Whatever you feel like suggesting.
Weird things I haven't thought of.

Email me at: mdotmersereau@aol.com

* * *


114


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