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From: "Zebulon" <zebulon@fastmail.ca>
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Subject: {ASSM} Part 6 - Tall, Blond and Bound (FF, NC, Bond)
Date: Fri, 21 Feb 2003 07:10:04 -0500
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Part 6 - Tall, Blond and Bound
This is a work of fiction in 14 parts. It is the fourth
novel set in the same world as "The Training of Jeannie
and Clair," "Blackmailed into Bondage," and "Staci
Davis: Investigative Slave." It is approximately the
same length as the other three novels.
Zebulon
No reference to real persons is intended. It contains strong,
non-traditional sexual imagery and language. If you don't
like this kind of thing, don't read it.
Feedback is welcome. Zebulon@fastmail.ca
All Zebulon's work is posted here:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Zebulon/www/
This story may be reposted anywhere as long as (1) proper
credit is given, (2) I am informed of where it is being posted,
and (3) I am allowed free access to the web site where it is
being posted.
(MF, FF, Bond)
- - - - -
Part 6 - Tall, Blond and Bound
by Zebulon
* * * * *
Andrea's life had settled into a new routine. Each
morning she would prepare breakfast for her master and
serve it to him in bed.
The Eagle hated eating breakfast in bed. But it was part
of the training. He would wait until Andrea left, then
move to the table by the big window that overlooked the
front of the house. He was always careful to collect the
breakfast dishes and return them to the side of the bed for
Andrea to collect later.
After serving her Master breakfast, Andrea would return
to the kitchen, eat quickly and then hurry off to exercise and
shower. She was largely on her own during the mornings.
Shortly before noon she would collect her Master's
breakfast dishes, carefully wipe the crumbs off of the little
table by the window that she wasn't supposed to know
about, and then scurry back to the kitchen to clean and
to prepare lunch.
They would eat together before starting the afternoon
lessons. The Eagle no longer bound her except when
demonstrating the use of some new sexual apparatus. By
this time she had been conditioned enough to take a great
deal of pleasure in nipple clamps and mild lashing. She
would sometimes get wet when she saw a new piece of
bondage paraphernalia set out for the day's lesson.
Master Vincent would still leave the house every
afternoon for several hours. But now, when he returned in
the evenings she could no longer rely on their having sex.
Now, they would only have sex when he was in the mood.
Sex was no longer for her training, it was strictly for his
pleasure. And that, she realized, is how it was supposed to
be. Andrea tried very hard to be sure he was pleased.
And the Eagle was pleased. Andrea had been properly
broken. Her willingness to serve and eagerness to please
during lovemaking had demonstrated that. He had relaxed
the training schedule and was taking his time polishing fine
points. But she still needed a lot of training, which he
wasn't prepared to provide. He could train her as a proper
slave, but not as an artist in sexual technique. So he
contacted the Mart and requested expert help.
A couple of days later Andrea found herself trying on a
new wardrobe. There were soft black leather panties with
snaps on each side, which fit her like a glove. There was a
neck collar of black leather with a polished silver buckle on
the front. The buckle had her name engraved on it. There
were four D-Rings set in the collar--one on each side, one in
the back, and one directly under the buckle. There was a
black plastic vest, which fit as if molded on her. There were
zippers that ran completely around each breast so that the
plastic skin could be removed and leave her tits completely
exposed. There was a heavy black leather belt with a chain
that ran directly between her legs and hooked on the front
and back. There were four leather cuffs for her wrists and
ankles--each with a D-ring set in the side. There were also
a pair of black, five-inch, spiked heels. Master Vincent
called this her basic outfit.
"Master," she asked with the proper protocol, "is it
permitted to ask a question?"
"Go ahead."
"How is it that all this fits me so exactly?"
He smiled. "You remember your first night here?"
She almost flinched, "Yes, Master."
"Well, after you finally fell asleep, I measured you in
some detail. I put in the order for these items that same
night, making allowance for the way your exercise program
would resculpt your body." He looked at her, appraising his
handiwork. "It seems I estimated well."
"Yes, Master," she endorsed enthusiastically.
There was more. There was a fishnet body suit. There
was clothing made completely of chains. There were an
assortment of different cuffs for wrists and ankles. There
was even a modest collection of everyday clothes which
would pass on the street. There was enough to fill two
large suitcases. He had her collect it all to put away in her
room. As she picked up the first double armful he told her
to dress in the basic outfit and to come back as soon as
she'd finished.
When Andrea got to her tiny room she was surprised to
find her Master had set up a little antique chifforobe and a
small dressing table. Now there was hardly any room to
breathe, but she was delighted.
Fifteen minutes later Andrea was back in the main room
anticipating something new. She was wearing the sexy new
outfit complete with wrist and ankle cuffs. It was early
evening and for the first time, her Master hadn't left.
Something was definitely up. She was getting quite wet and
was afraid she would stain the leather panties.
"Come here," he said as she approached.
She came. He unzipped the two breast patches and
tossed them on a chair in the corner. He unsnapped the
panties and pulled them out from around the crotch chain.
The chain now wedged its way lightly into her pussy slit and
up the crack in her ass. He tightened the chain a couple of
links and heard her sigh in response. He lifted the leather
panties to his nose and smelled the crotch.
Andrea blushed.
"You know something new is going to happen, don't
you."
"Yes, Master," she replied somewhat breathlessly.
He threw the panties on the chair as well and then
reached up with one hand to massage her breast. He
reached down with the other hand and insinuated a couple
of fingers around the crotch chain to massage her clit.
Andrea sucked in her breath and closed her eyes. She was
soon covered with a light sheen of sweat. Little pearls of
her love juices began to trickle down the chain and then the
insides of her thighs. Her eyes were closed and she was
breathing quite heavily. Had this gone on for much longer
she would have climaxed. But her reverie was interrupted
by the sound of a doorbell. She had never heard it go off
before.
Andrea didn't know that there was a much smaller house
at the front of the estate which served as a checkpoint for
visitors. A caretaker lived in that house and no one got by
without her knowledge and permission. It was she who had
rung the bell.
Her Master was waiting expectantly. "Well?" he asked.
* * * * *
Andrea was more than half naked. She suddenly felt
more exposed and vulnerable than she had in weeks. But
she remembered her lessons and went running quickly for
the door. She threw it open. There was no one there. She
had to wait for nearly a minute before something hove into
sight. It was a large motorcycle with two figures. The
cycle parked a few feet from the door and the visitors
dismounted. The first was a tall swarthy man. He was as
tall in his great black riding boots as she was in her heels.
He gave her a quick glance and then brushed past her to
greet Master Vincent.
The second rider was a woman. Even before she
removed her helmet that much was obvious. The leather
suit did nothing to hide her curves. She hung the helmet on
the back of the bike. She had shoulder length black hair and
a pretty face. As she walked up, Andrea realized she was
quite short, perhaps only five foot three or four. She had
dark penetrating eyes set in very white skin. Everything
about her exuded self-confidence and power. Everything
but her expression. She was staring at Andrea with her
mouth hanging open. She seemed shocked to see another
woman answering a door like that. Her expression made
Andrea feel even more naked and exposed than before.
As the raven-haired beauty walked passed her, Andrea
quietly closed the door and followed. The men were in the
main room, just breaking off what might have been a long
embrace.
". . .Aren't you glad to see me?" the tall stranger was
saying.
"I'm glad to see you, I'm glad to see you," the Eagle
replied, with mild enthusiasm. He leaned back to look at
the tall biker. "But what the hell are you doing here? How
did you find me?"
Andrea suddenly realized that this wasn't who her
Master had been expecting.
"You sent out the word," he replied with a laugh. "And
guess who got the word?"
"Not you?"
"Of course not me. Carla."
"And she told you?"
"Hell, I was with her when the call came in."
"But she didn't invite you here, did she?"
"No, I sort of invited myself. But hey--how long has it
been?"
Just then the doorbell rang again.
The biker jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "That's
probably Carla, now."
The Eagle threw a look at Andrea and she hastened back
to the door. Then he looked at the new girl and arched his
brows at the biker.
"Babs," he called out, "get your sweet little ass over
here. I want you to meet an old buddy."
The girl came over. Because of their great difference
in height, they looked almost comic standing together. The
biker threw his arm over her shoulder and said, "Eagle, I
want you to meet Barbara Powers. She's the daughter of
some rich asshole."
The Eagle took her hand but said nothing. He was
studying her with care. Babs didn't say anything either. She
was still in mild shock of the sight of Andrea. She had
recognized Andrea as a missing person whom the police
were trying to find.
There was a scream from the hallway. "Fernando, you
shit! What the fuck are you doing here?" The voice
belonged to a thin little woman with very strong features.
She was dressed in a light flower print dress that covered
her from neck to ankle.
The tall biker grinned broadly and said, "Hi Carla. What
kept you?"
"Answer my question, you fuck-wad." Her tone
suggested one part good-natured ribbing and three parts
genuine piss-offed-ness.
Fernando shrugged, "Hey, I couldn't miss this chance to
catch up with ol' Vince again, could I?"
Carla looked at the Eagle as if to ask his opinion.
"I don't know," the Eagle replied to her unspoken
question.
"Well, who the fuck is she?" demanded Carla, indicating
Barbara.
"Come on, Carla," Fernando said, "don't be a bitch.
Come meet Babs. My current flame. You'll like her."
The Eagle turned to Andrea who was standing in the
doorway with yet another girl. She was dressed as a
chauffeur and belonged to Carla. It was difficult to tell
what she looked like under the uniform. Her face seemed
pleasant, but her hair was tucked up into the hat and her
figure was well camouflaged by her clothes. "Andrea," the
Eagle said, "please show our young friend to a guestroom
so she can freshen up and change.
"Yes, Master Vincent."
When the Eagle turned back, Carla was arguing with
Fernando. Babs was standing off to the side, and there was
something in her expression, her manor, her posture--
something that the Eagle found disturbing. It was mostly an
instinct, but recruiters for the Mart learned to trust their
instincts.
The Eagle made a quick stop at a little bureau to pocket
something and then rejoined the others.
"Fuck it," Fernando was saying. "If we're not welcome,
we'll just saddle up and get the hell out of Dodge."
Carla was about to reply when the Eagle interrupted,
"Wait a minute. Miss Powers is it? Would you please come
here for a moment?"
Babs moved up with some traces of hesitancy. And as
she joined them, the Eagle pulled his hand out of his pocket.
He was holding a little can and sprayed something into her
face. Babs jumped back, looked startled, turned to run, and
immediately collapsed on the floor.
Carla said nothing. She was waiting to see what this was
all about.
Fernando looked at his prone companion and said, "Now
what the fuck was that for?"
The Eagle studied the crumpled figure for a moment and
then said, "Please pardon me if it turns out that I am
mistaken. But, tell me, old friend, are you still riding with a
gang?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"And you're still trafficking in pharmaceuticals, are you
not?
"What's that got to do with Babs?"
By way of an answer the Eagle rolled the prone figure
over on her back and pointed to a slight bulge in her leather
jacket. Babs' eyes were looking blankly upward, but he
knew her mind was still processing. "You see that?" he
asked the other two.
They saw it.
The Eagle unzipped the jacket and pulled open one side.
There was nothing there. Just a little tab under the arm
seam. He grabbed the tab and pulled downward. Some
light threads ripped and the inner lining opened. Now there
was something to see--a 38-caliber handgun.
"So what?" said Fernando. "So she's packin'."
The Eagle pulled the lining still further. In a hidden
pocket he found a little folder that contained a police
identification card and a very thin badge.
"You bitch!" shouted Fernando, and kicked the still
figure in the side.
"Calm down, Fernando," said Carla. "We've got to
figure out if there's any harm done."
"Exactly," said the Eagle. He stood up. It took only a
few moments of discussion to figure out that there was no
breach of security. She hadn't known about the Mart and
no one knew where she was.
By this time Andrea had returned. Her Master called her
and she quickly came running.
"Please take our friend here to the basement. She'll be
out for the next half-hour or so. Pull off her clothes and
strap her down to the examination table. Keep her quiet."
He handed her the little spray can. "If you can't keep her
quiet any other way, give her another shot of this. One
quick spray, directly in the face."
Andrea took the little can and waited to see if there was
anything else. There wasn't. Her Master had already turned
his attention back to Carla and Fernando. So Andrea
shoved the little can under her belt. She reached down,
hoisted the pretty brunette on to her shoulder, and carried
her out of the room.
The last thing Andrea heard as she left was her Master
saying, "OK, let's get on the horn and find out what else we
can about the situation."
* * * * *
Andrea laid the girl on a large flat table that stood on the
far corner of the basement. She looked into the blank face
and remembered her own experience that first terrible
afternoon. She knew that the girl would vaguely be aware
of everything that was happening. Her eyes were fluttering,
giving her partial, nightmarish glimpses of what was going
on around her.
Andrea arranged her flat on her back and undid the
buttons down the front of her blouse. When she reached
the pants she undid the belt, unhooked the top of the jeans,
and unzipped the fly. She finished the last two shirt buttons.
Looking down, she realized that she would have to remove
the boots before she would be able to take the pants off. So
she moved down to the foot of the table and tugged. The
boots came off easily. The girl had small feet and bulky
white socks. Andrea removed the socks.
Andrea was surprised and delighted with the other girl's
feet. Most women had relatively unattractive feet. This girl
could have gotten a job modeling foot cream. Her feet were
carefully manicured and the nails painted a delicate shade of
pink.
Andrea took the socks and shoes across the room and
deposited them in the large trash can. Then she returned
and sat the girl upright. There was still no sign of life.
Andrea easily removed her jacket and blouse. She
unhooked the bra and laid her back down. When the bra
came off it revealed two very nice breasts. They were not
large, but were quite firm and had large brown nipples
surrounded by small dark areolas. They were beautiful.
Andrea's own breasts were much larger, but not so round
and perfect as these. She reached out an exploring hand
and touched one of them. The body jerked very slightly.
The drug must be starting to wear off early. 'Perhaps she
didn't get a very large dose,' Andrea thought. She'd better
hurry.
Andrea slipped the girl's pants and underwear off and
then shackled the girl to the table with the wrist and ankle
restraints built into each corner. Only then did she pick up
the pile of clothes and add them to the trash can. When she
got back, the girl's eyes were open. Her mouth was moving
feebly as if she were trying hard to say something. Nothing
was coming out.
"Shhh," Andrea said to her. "If you just stay calm, I'm
sure everything will be all right."
The head shook ever so slightly in the negative. The
face began to take on an expression of fear. With every
passing moment, the bound girl was becoming more
agitated. She was making little noises, but nothing
articulate. 'Keep her quiet,' her Master had said. Andrea
started to reach for the spray can and then had another
thought.
During the early days of her training, she had been
terrified on more than one occasion. Her Master had
performed a simple erotic massage technique on her which
always calmed her down and left her feeling much less
scared. She was sure she could do the same for this poor
girl. But should she? Her Master had said to keep her
quiet, but he didn't say how. And he did say to use the
spray 'if she had to.' Which all seemed to imply that she
could use some other method if she wanted to.
And in some crazy way, she suddenly realized that she
did want to. A few months ago, even the thought of what
she was about to do would have struck her as perverted.
But this was now, not then. And even as these thoughts
raced through her mind, she found that she was getting wet
again.
So as Sergeant Kimberly Dubin, alias Barbara 'Babs'
Powers, struggled weakly to regain the use of her body,
Andrea reached out and took a breast with one hand and her
twat with the other. Then she began to rhythmically knead
the breast and work her fingers up and down the vaginal slit
in a peculiar pattern that she remembered well from her own
captivity. Almost instantly the girl's pussy began to moisten
and her breathing started to deepen.
There were a few moments in which the girl seemed to
be trying to make her stop, but that quickly faded. Her eyes
were now well open, but had fogged over. Her mouth had
parted and her tongue was working itself against the teeth
and lips. Her whole body was undulating within the
restraints. And her pussy was almost gushing in response to
Andrea's steady massage.
The bound girl's pelvis would rise up each time Andrea
reached the little clit at the top of her slit, and then fall back
down and pull away as the fingers retreated back toward the
ass. There would be a series of little movements around
first the anus and then around the vagina. Then the fingers
would move up toward the clitoris again and the dark haired
captive would groan, thrust her pelvis upward and tremble
ever closer to a grand climax.
Andrea worked first one breast and then the other--
alternating with each cycle. She would palm and squeeze
the whole breast area. Then run her hand in a light circle
first one way and then the other around the circumference
of the breast. And then, while her fingers were moving back
toward the clit, she would spiral in on the nipple. And
finally she would simultaneously work the nipple and clit
with careful pinching and rubbing motions.
The dark haired undercover officer felt her mind and
body slipping away. She wanted to cry out, she wanted to
escape. All she could do is lie there and let her mind be
carried along by the tidal flood of hormones being unleashed
by her tormentor. And the tall beautiful blond whose
fingers were working her breasts and genitals--she was
supposed to be an abductee herself. What was going on.
"Oh God," she groaned as Andrea brought her up to the
edge of another orgasm and then backed her down. It was
like the crashing of waves, each of which crested a little
higher. She looked up into the angelic face hovering over
her and tried to form a question. Then the next crest was
upon her. "Oh Jesus, Oh . . . Please," was all she managed
to get out. She suddenly thought of Patty Hearst, the
heiress who had been kidnapped and turned into a bank
robber by her abductors. She started crying in her passion
and frustration. Then another crest came and all she could
do was to moan inarticulately with her mouth stretched
wide open. Why didn't she let her come. She kept bringing
her close but not letting her fall over the edge. Her breasts
felt hard, the nipples more stiff and sensitive then she could
ever remember. Her pussy was so wet it was dripping
beads of moisture. Her anus was super sensitive and
seemed to quiver each time the blond would bring her
fingers back to circle the little hole, dipping briefly in only to
be quickly pulled out and start its upward migration again.
Her clit felt almost alive with little electric jolts. It was
hungry for the feel of the returning finger. She tried to
shake her entire pelvis against the other girl's finger to bring
herself off. But the blond seemed to anticipate the
movement and adjusted for it. Another crest, another
extraordinary moment of sexual frenzy, another almost
orgasm, another slow retreat back toward her rear hole.
The blond had just switched breasts and started another
return to the clit when she suddenly stopped. That was
almost worse than the fingering. The bound girl cried out
with unreleased sexual energy.
Then she saw what had made the blond stop. People
had entered the room. They were trooping down the stairs.
There was the Eagle, presumably the abductor of the blond.
He seemed calm and in control. Behind him came Carla.
She had an evil disapproving look on her face. She had lost
the flowered dress and was wearing kinky looking outfit of
black lace, leather, and steel rings. Behind her came
Fernando. The look on his face frightened her
tremendously. He would certainly kill her if the others let
him. And finally came the girl in the chauffeur's outfit.
Only now she was dressed to match Carla. She had full,
straw colored hair which flowed around her shoulders.
"What the fuck is this?" Carla asked, almost snarling.
The Eagle cut her off, "She's keeping her quiet. Aren't
you dear heart?" he said turning to Andrea.
With a great sense of relief at her Master's tone and
understanding she said, "Yes, Master."
"Finish it," he said.
So Andrea turned back to the bound girl, who tried to
twist away from her, and quickly brought her back to where
they had left off. Only this time, when she had reached the
highest crest yet, the fingers stayed working the clit and the
free hand bounced quickly from nipple to nipple, pinching
with great force. The girl on the table opened her mouth
and started screaming as the climax came over her. The
blond just kept working her fingers and the orgasm went on,
and on, and on.
Then the bound girl felt something being jammed into
her open mouth. She was almost too weak to resist. She
looked up and saw the Eagle holding something that pried
her jaws apart with almost tearing force. It left her gasping
through her nose.
The assaulting fingers stopped. All she could do is weep
in her bondage and helplessness. Yet, despite her situation,
despite the pain, despite the humiliation, there was a certain
calmness which had fallen over her. The blinding climax
had left her completely drained and limp. She looked up at
the tall blond girl who was smiling down at her.
The Eagle had his arm around Andrea was massaging
her breast with absent-minded approval as he studied the
bound cop. The others were also studying the girl on the
table and waiting to see what the Eagle had planned next.
* * * * *
- - - - -
-End of Part 6 - Tall, Blond and Bound - Zebulon -
This story may be reposted anywhere as long as (1) proper
credit is given, (2) I am informed of where it is being posted,
and (3) I am allowed free access to the web site where it is
being posted.
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