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\par                                     K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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\par \tab    \tab                             WARNING!
\par \tab       \tab           \tab This text file contains sexually explicit
\par \tab             \tab material. If you do not wish to read this
\par \tab \tab \tab type of literature, or you are under age,
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\par Archive name: Caroline.txt
\par Authors name: Quin
\par Story Title : Captured Caroline
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\par \tab Captured Caroline. by Quin 
\par \tab Prologue: Just a Quiet Burger 
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\par \tab As I neared the state border I turned off the highway and  towards the golden arches of an all night McDonalds. When I'd planned  the route the month before this had seemed the best place to stop,  food bought from here would still be warm when I parked up to change  the plates. 
\par \tab I parked towards the back of the lot close to one of the  lights. I figured no one would be likely to park close by, I'd taken a  lot of trouble to ensure that she was tightly gagged and that she was  tied in such a way that she couldn't attract any attention. Still it  paid to go to a little extra trouble and it also reduced the chances  of some passer by spotting my home made tags. I still felt nervous and  unsure, copying a stranger's tags so that you don't have to cruising a  neighborhood with out of state plates is smart thinking and pays off  when the jobs over and the cops are looking for clues. Yet I couldn't  help feeling that this would be the night the idiot got his car stolen  or his wife was rushed to hospital and that every cop in the state  would be after that license. I was at most twenty minutes from the  layover when I could switch mine back, I hoped to stay lucky that  long.       
\par \tab I got out and pantomimed looking for my wallet so that I could  hang around near the trunk. Nothing, not a peep. I have to say that I  started to worry, maybe she'd choked or something. She was a smart  girl, a college student, she must see her situation, bound and gagged  in the trunk of a car being taken who knows where, her best chance is  when we stop. Then, just when I was about to panic and open the trunk  I heard it, a faint muffled cry, so soft at first I thought it was  imagination. I listened and there it was again full of desperation and  hope, saying just one thing `Help me.' 
\par \tab Satisfied that she couldn't be heard more than a few feet away  I `found' my wallet and headed towards the doors. She was smart all  right, she'd waited until she thought I'd gone before making any  noise. A good idea spoiled only by the tiny amount of noise she could  make. In some ways I was pleased, she was living up nicely to my  expectations. 
\par \tab The McDonalds was almost deserted, and was just about to  switch to cooking to order. My fellow patrons consisted of a couple of  truck drivers and a state trooper. I have to confess that threw me at  first, but from conversations between him and the staff it appeared he  stopped off here every night after his shift. I ignored him and  carried on. I got them to refill my coffee flask for `later' and took  a coke and the quarter pounders they had left as I didn't want to wait  around for them to cook my order. The trooper said his good-byes and  it was with some relief that I saw him drive away. Once my order was  filled I too hit the road nerves on edge but keeping to a nice legal  fifty as I headed towards the layover. 
\par \tab I ran through all the events of the past few days again to see  if there was anything that could tie me, Richard Cody successful  thirty-something computer journalist, with Caroline Conway the  struggling eighteen year old psych major currently in my trunk......... 
\par \tab I can't exactly say when the idea of taking a sex slave first  came to me. I suppose every man who has ever been lead on by a woman  harbors certain fantasies, any guy with a female boss, any guy stood  up or embarrassed or humiliated. What I suppose made me different from  "any guy" was that I had been provided with the means, both  financially and practically to carry out those fantasies and make them  real. I could have a woman who couldn't say no, one over which I would  have total control. 
\par \tab I suppose in reality this started six months ago. At the time  I was dating Samantha Prescott, former model and an assistant editor  at Vogue. I must confess that I had fallen, she was lovely of course,  but she also had an elegance and charm which completely won me over. I  suppose I read more into the relationship that she did, certainly I  was ready to commit. I was at that time building a house in New  England and contemplating the Great American Novel. Then out of the  blue she called everything off, the next time I saw her was in a  tabloid escorting some baseball star to the Grammies. When she finally  answered my calls she as good as told me that I was just a fashion  accessory, that literary men had been a feature of the Fall season and  that now that Spring was here she and her friends preferred more  "physical" escorts. 
\par \tab About a month later one of my editors called and suggested  that I did a blab piece on computer porn. The newspapers and  television were in a feeding frenzy about girlie pics on bulletin  boards and S&M on the internet. Apparently a company in San Diego was  marketing an S&M Multimedia CD-ROM, and had just won a court battle to  allow it's distribution. With some reluctance I'd agreed, chiefly  because the Samantha thing had caused me to fall behind with my  column. A few days later the CD arrived. By then I'd done the few  thousand words of condemnation required by my middle class publisher  but I thought I'd try it anyway just to get some specific quotes.  
\par \tab In the game you play "Dak Forest" a porno film actor. When the  costar of his next flick " Nympho Nurses From Hell" is kidnapped by a  Colombian drug cartel, Dak has only three days to rescue her and save  the movie. The script was poor, the video clips included painful  acting and in the course of the game just about every female character  ends up bound and gagged either naked or in some kinky outfit.  
\par \tab Part way through the game a character is introduced called  Samantha Pressman, she is the editor of a fashion magazine who is  kidnapped by the cartel and turned into the nymphomaniac sex slave  Kitty, who acts as Dak's sidekick from then on. To anyone who knew her  the similarities between this character and Sam Prescott where  overwhelming, the actress even looked a lot like her. I found myself  playing the same section again and again. Sam kneels before Dak and  begs him to whip her, spank her, humiliate her. Dak of course refuses,  but that and some of Sam's heavier scenes kept me hooked on the CD  weeks after my article was printed. 
\par \tab I started to ask myself if it was really that difficult to  take a woman and make her your sex slave. I had a secluded house with  a large basement that I'd originally designed as a computer lab. I had  few friends who lived nearby so impromptu visits were unlikely. In  addition I had the money and the time to make it work. Suddenly it  became clear what I should do. I couldn't take Sam of course, the  history of our relationship was too well known. For a wild second I  even considered taking `Kitty' and driving her back from California.  In the end I realized that I needed a woman with whom I had no  contact, a complete stranger preferably from some distance away so  that the police investigation wouldn't get too close to home. I looked  at a map and selected a college town about three hundred miles from my  home. Colleges mean young female students a good starting point for  the selection of a slave.......... 
\par \tab By now I'd reached the turnoff I'd been waiting for. This lead  down a tree lined lane into a wooded hollow. I had come across the  place by accident whilst scouting out the area a few months before and  could hardly believe that I'd found somewhere so perfect. I'd spent a  couple of nights here to assure myself that this wasn't the local  lovers lane, or the favorite route of poachers. In the end however I  had to accept that it was what it appeared to be, a rough dirt road  leading to a small wood, and that the place was deserted at night. 
\par  \tab I drove carefully into the hollow, this wasn't the night to  slide into a ditch or have a flat. I assured myself that we were far  enough from the road and that no one was watching. Finally I got out,  went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. Two large,  frightened blue eyes stared back at me over the mass of Ace bandage  that covered her lower face. The bandage was tight and her cheeks  bulged out over it, in places there was a flash of silver where the  bandage failed to cover the duct tape underneath. She made a mewing  sound and started to struggle, I carefully checked her bonds. In a  sense we were both acting out our roles, she as victim, I as  kidnapper, we both knew she couldn't get free. She was dressed in the  same outfit she had worn that morning to her Saturday job, a fairly  expensive blue blazer and skirt, a white blouse, heels and stockings.  I had pulled her long blond hair back into a kind of ponytail and  secured it with some rubber bands, it cascaded onto her back like a  horses mane. I had considered removing the blazer before tying her but  this power dressing had reminded me of Samantha, so instead I had  added to the ensemble. Her ankles where cuffed, good solid black  leather bondage cuffs bought from a sex shop in New York, in many ways  they matched her pumps and proved I could "Accessorize". At the moment  they were fastened together with a padlock and linked by a long  leather strap to her wrists. Smaller straps clinched her legs together  just above and just below the knees effectively immobilizing them. I  had done the same at her elbows but had used duct tape to secure her  wrists and hands. Even her fingers where covered in a mass so thick it  appeared that she was clutching a bowling ball. As well as securing  her hands the mass also stopped another leather strap from biting into  her wrists and it was this strap that was also secured to her ankles. 
\par  \tab After checking everything was secure I removed the strap that  formed the hogtie. She groaned with relief and started to straighten  her legs. I grabbed her by the arms and pulled her clear, then slung  her over my shoulder and carried her round to the open passenger door  and placed her inside. Closing the door I entered via the drivers  door. For a second we sat looking at each other, then she started to  struggle and I went back to the job in hand. 
\par \tab "Stop that!" She turned and looked at me, her eyes framing a  silent question. 
\par \tab "No I'm not going to kill you if you don't force me to. If I'd  wanted to kill or rape you I could have done it back in that alley and  saved myself a lot of trouble. Now stop struggling, you've been alone  in the trunk for the last three hours, if you couldn't get free then  what chance do you have with me here?" 
\par \tab She stopped and sat watching me with a nervous expression on  her face. 
\par \tab "Look, I have a proposal to make, we've got a long way to go  and things are going to get quite unpleasant for you unless we can  come to some arrangement." She continued to listen, her large accusing  eyes watching me. "You probably need the john and you must be thirsty.  I have a drink for you and some food. For you to eat it I have to  remove the gag, you can scream all you want out here and no one will  hear you, all you'll do is piss me off, clear?" She looked out of the  car window at the quiet secluded woods. 
\par \tab "Is that clear!" I snapped. 
\par \tab She turned back to me and nodded, her ponytail bobbing behind  her. 
\par \tab "Ok, I want you to promise that IF I remove the gag, you'll  let me replace it again when it's time to go. You'll be quiet, you'll  eat the food then we'll head off again." She looked at me  incredulously and I began to realize just what expressive eyes she  had. 
\par \tab "I suggest you think about this, you weren't able to stop me  gagging you in the first place, and you won't be able to stop me now,  all you'll do is force me to hurt you. Besides cause me trouble now  and we simply don't stop until we get were we're going, I know which  of us will suffer most." I could see the calculations in her eyes,  here was definitely a bad place for her with no chance of rescue. I  could see her thinking that the next stop may offer more possibilities  and that she shouldn't blow it now. At length she nodded.  
\par \tab "So let's check that we're clear on this. The gag comes out,  no screaming or carrying on, you eat then you let me gag you again  with no trouble?" Again she nodded so I told her to bend down whilst I  undid the bandage. Pushing the ponytail away I worked on the knot then  I unwound the bandage and dumped it on the floor. She started to  protest when I started pulling the duct tape free but at last I  removed it and the dense sponge rubber ball that packed her mouth.  
\par \tab She licked her dry lips, "Water?" she croaked. I put the straw  to her lips and she started to drink greedily. 
\par \tab Finally she stopped and looked up at me, "Why are you doing  this?" she asked looking at me with those big expression filled eyes.  
\par \tab "Shut up," I said, "I didn't say you could talk." 
\par \tab "You didn't say I couldn't." 
\par \tab "You'll learn," I said and reached for the sponge ball.  
\par \tab "No! " She said quickly, "Look I'm sorry. I'll be quiet,  promise!" 
\par \tab Without a word I held the first burger to her lips and she  started to eat. There continued a strange silence until she was  finished. I reached back, plucked the toy bag from behind her seat and  started to root around inside. At length I found what I wanted and  pulled out her collar. Seeing it she started to protest but then she  caught my eye and sat meekly as I locked it around her neck. Then I  pulled out a leather gag, this time she couldn't stop herself.  
\par \tab "What..." 
\par \tab "It's your gag." 
\par \tab "But I thought...." She nodded towards the sponge ball.  
\par \tab "That design is very effective but the adhesive from the tape  damages the skin. This is a better long term solution. Now open  wide.." 
\par \tab "But..." 
\par \tab "Are you breaking your promise?" 
\par \tab "No but..." 
\par \tab "Then open up!" 
\par \tab She sighed resigned to her fate and opened her mouth to let me  put the gag inside, then she bent forward as I secured the straps. The  gag had a wide padded leather section that covered her lips and a  strap that tightly fastened around her head. I could tell that she'd  worked out that the ball in her mouth was a lot smaller that the last  one. She made a number of muffled sounds that were much quieter that  they should be. I think she thought that I'd overestimated the gag's  effectiveness and she could exploit that later. I reached into the bag  and got the pump. At first she didn't recognize what it was and it was  only when the ball in her mouth started to inflate that she realized  the truth. Eyes wide and bulging she started to protest, her whines  becoming steadily more muffled as the ball inflated. When I was  satisfied that she was gagged as effectively as before I replaced the  pump in the bag and withdrew the padded leather blindfold that matched  the gag. She spotted this and wanted nothing to do with it she shook  her head, struggled and whined as I strapped it in place. I pulled  back and she sat there shaking. Deprived of sight she felt even more  vulnerable. Her almost covered face, gag and blindfold scanned the car  as if waiting for something to happen. I left the car and walked  around to the passenger side with the bag. Opening the door I swung  her bound legs out and clipped a short length of chain between the D  rings of her ankle cuffs. I removed the padlock joining the cuffs and  then the two leather straps leaving her legs free but hobbled at the  ankles. Then I secured another chain to her collar to act as a leash  and pulled her upright. A little unsteadily she followed me to a tree  where I secured the leash to a low branch. 
\par \tab "I'm going to leave you here while you pee is that clear?"  
\par \tab She tried to say something. 
\par \tab "The panties?" 
\par \tab She nodded, "No problem." She squealed as my knife cut them  off. I watched her squat against the tree then returned to the car. In  the trunk next to the spare wheel was my license plates, with some  relief I removed my clever fakes and replaced the legal ones. I  watched while she shivered by the tree. I wasn't concerned, even if  she somehow slipped the leash she couldn't get far in a wood  blindfolded and hobbled. At length I collected her and returned her to  the trunk. I re-secured her legs and hog-tied them back to her wrists.  She moaned and struggled back to her role as victim. 
\par \tab "Hey sweetheart." Her leather covered face turned towards me.  "I'm not a bad guy I know it can be boring in here. I have some  entertainment for you." With one quick motion I slipped the vibrator  into her pussy and turned it on low. A strangled moan came from behind  the gag and she started to struggle as I secured her knees and trapped  the buzzing intruder inside her. The moans and groans continued but  the hogtie deprived her of the movement necessary to remove it, if of  course that was her intention. Her hips moved as much as they could  and muffled moans came from behind the gag. Once again I tucked the  blankets around her for sound insulation and shut the trunk. In the  eerie silence of the woods I could still hear her faint moans.  Satisfied that the vibrator, with it's long life batteries, would keep  her distracted until we returned home I returned to the drivers seat  and drank my coffee.......   
\par \tab Chapter 1: The Selection and Capture of a Slave. 
\par \tab It had been fate that delivered her to me. I discovered that a  small software house was holding a product demo in the town I'd  selected as my hunting ground. A small startup company made up of  young graduates, they where based near the university. I was preparing  another blab piece on innovation in the computer industry and so had  an excuse to go, it seemed like a good opportunity to scout around. I  think the company had been surprised when I accepted, I was the only  recognized hack that had bothered to attend. In any case they were all  over me, I got a private demo and enough disks and promotional  material to supply the whole press corps. They were keen young men  desperate to make a good impression. One even showed me the local  night life and over some beers he told me of the best student  hangouts, information which I stored away for later. 
\par \tab The next day was to have been the main demo and having seen  the package already I had intended to send my apologies and use the  time to check out prospective targets. In the end however I elected to  turn up for at least the first half hour. They had hired a couple of  girls from a local modeling agency to look pretty during the  presentation. Neither was exactly what I was looking for but on a whim  I hung around until lunch to practice my stalking skills. The girls  headed off downtown to a small restaurant where they met with friends.  It was here that I first saw her, tall, shapely, blond, Caroline. With  a decent makeup job and some reasonable clothes she could have made a  good living on the modeling circuit. As it was she had a fairly poor  dress sense, which reduced her from stunning to just good looking. I  knew then that this was the one I wanted. Not only could I train her  as my slave I could eventually mold her into the kind of escort to  make the Sam Prescotts of this world seem ordinary. 
\par \tab After her meal she said her good-byes and left. Once outside I  followed her back to a local department store, here she worked as a  cosmetics saleswoman. She seemed to be fairly junior, supplying free  makeovers to women brought to the counter by more senior staff. I went  to a rival company's stand and made some excuse about needing a last  minute birthday gift. The girl was helpful and I managed to keep her  distracted enough that I could watch Caroline across the floor. She  had a certain intrinsic elegance that shone out despite her dowdy  looks. Trade was slow and from the banter I picked up between the  other saleswomen it became clear that Caroline was a student working  here part time. Realizing I couldn't continue to hang around without  attracting attention I purchased enough perfume to keep the girl happy  then left and headed off for the rest of the day. 
\par \tab I had bought a late model medium sized domestic sedan to use  during the abduction. My researches had shown that this was a popular  type and color and indeed I saw a number as I drove around. In the end  I selected one and followed it to a small car park. Here a guy got out  and went into an office building. I noted his plate then headed back  to the store in time for closing. I followed from a distance as she  left work and headed down a set of back alleys to a place where a  small car was parked. I nearly lost her as she drove away but  fortunately the traffic slowed her until I could catch up in my car. I  followed her to a small apartment building near the university. I had  caught her first name in the restaurant and from the bell box I saw  that she was Caroline Conway and lived in 23C. 
\par \tab The next morning she was working in the store as usual, during  the night I'd formulated a plan. First I hired a cell phone from a  local company that were happy for me to take it for a few days when I  claimed mine was damaged. This gave me a local number. I had spent  most of the previous evening filling a small notebook with cryptic  notes and I put a woman's name on the cover. I had noticed that  Caroline carried a small black leather purse with her at all times. I  guessed that they may be available from the store where she worked.  Another quick `birthday gift' shopping trip and I had it's twin  together with a woman's billfold. In the stores toilets I assembled my  decoy. I placed about $300 in the wallet and dropped it into the bag,  then added some old keys, some change, the notebook, a pen and some of  the perfume I'd purchased the day before. I figured it would weigh  about right and that she may not immediately realize it wasn't her own  purse. I assumed that she would eat lunch in the same place and again  fate was with me. I sat on the next table just behind her as she sat  and gossiped. I paid for the salad I bought and while the waitress  took their order I quickly swapped purses, stuck hers under my coat  and left. I explained to the cashier that I was waiting for a friend  who hadn't shown and that I was off to find out where he was. Would  she hold my table for fifteen minutes until I got back? A large tip  ensured she would. I knew I had little time, there was a key and heel  place down the block and a hardware store a little beyond that. Out of  sight I removed her apartment and car keys and ensured they had no ID.  I stopped at the heel bar first, dropped off the car keys and paid for  a duplicate set. With the excuse that my lunch break was almost over  and I had shopping to do I left them with the promise that the keys  would be ready when I returned in five minutes. Then I went to the  hardware store where I got the apartment keys done quickly. In their  toilets I quickly went through the rest of the purse. I was relieved  to see that she had no bottles of medication or cards indicating a  serious medical complaint. What she did have was a large number of  unpaid bills, and of course a motive to disappear. Collecting both  sets of keys I headed back. 
\par \tab In all it had taken me ten minutes before I was back in the  restaurant. The decoy had worked well, and it was still where I left  it. If I couldn't get the purse back to her she would find the decoy  and assume some mistake. If she dialed the number on the notebook she  would reach the cell phone and I had a plausible story prepared about  my absent minded wife and her talent for mislaying her purse. I would  then arrange a place for an exchange. I doubted she would be  suspicious but I was still relieved that she and her friends ordered  coffee and were too distracted to notice when I successfully switched  her purse back. 
\par \tab I tailed her back to the store to ensure this wasn't a college  day, then went to her apartment. I rang the bell first in case there  was a room mate or a boyfriend, then went up and scouted things out. I  discovered that she was a psych major struggling to meet the demands  of the course and of her day job and that she apparently lived alone.  She had awful dress sense seeming to choose baggy clothes that hid her  figure and colors that didn't suit her. Although this was puzzling her  wardrobe did provide me with details of her clothes sizes that would  let me order some of the more exotic outfits before I collected her.  The absence of a boyfriend and estranged letters from the family  assured me she wouldn't be missed for some time. I was almost tempted  to wait and take her then, but I didn't want anyone to place me near  the scene so instead I decided to wait a month and returned home to  prepare... 
\par \tab The dungeon was close to finished. I had managed to do most of  the work myself and the little extras I'd had to get my contractor to  do (like putting water into the small basement room) were easily  explained by my love of photography. Before collecting my model I went  to New York on a fetish buying spree. Gags, cuffs, whips, chains,  harnesses, toys and a reasonable fetish wardrobe started to fill the  dungeon. I managed to pick up some reasonable strong secondhand  furniture to liven up the place, the only problem now was collecting  Caroline. 
\par \tab And that wasn't going to be easy. I mapped out her movements  as I knew them. Up at seven, out at eight thirty, work by nine, lunch  twelve to one. The problem was not what she did but the fact that  everyone else did them at the same time. At least a dozen people left  her apartment building within fifteen minutes of her every day. I as I  looked into it in detail it began to seem that there was not a moment  when I could reasonably expect to have her alone long enough to get  her and make off unseen. 
\par \tab First her apartment was on the third floor of a small student  tenement, there was frenetic activity all the time. Though I had keys  to the apartment and could easily ambush her there day or night there  was no method I could use to get her out of the place unnoticed. I had  no doubt that I could take her, but someone was bound to mention the  guy with the "drunken girlfriend" or the dude with "the big box" when  the police started asking questions. I could wait until the early  hours but then the back door leading to the car park would be locked  so I'd have to take her through the front doors. I determined that it  was never quiet enough for that to work. 
\par \tab The apartment's car park was above surface and at the back of  the building. Between 7AM and 8PM there was a back exit open to allow  access. Unfortunately it was clearly visible from the road and worse  it was a short cut to the nearest bar. Therefore an ambush in the car  park wasn't on either. 
\par \tab On TV of course it's all terribly easy, the heroine leaves her  apartment and gets into her car. Suddenly the menacing bulk of the bad  guy looms behind her and a gloved hand closes over her mouth. In the  next scene she's unconvincingly bound and gagged on her own back seat  as the bad guy telephones the hero to arrange a meet. Of course the  heroine always drives a big domestic car, if she were wise and had  bought a small compact Japanese model like Caroline she would have  only needed to worry about midget and contortionist kidnappers.  
\par \tab The only real opening was that she left the store slightly  later than everyone else. I could in theory jump her in the back  alleys leading to her car. Unfortunately *MOST* of them were well used  short cuts which was probably why she felt safe using them. The only  exception was an alleyway close to the store, here at that time I  could expect to have her alone for perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes.  Unfortunately the alley was too narrow for a car, it did however lead  into an wider alley linking two blocks. This wide alley was quiet  enough that I could get perhaps five minutes parked there before I  congested traffic but simply put it was too busy for me to leave a car  there during the kidnapping. For a while I played with the idea of  stashing her in a dumpster while I went for the car, but even with the  best gag in the world she'd make too much noise for me to leave her  the twenty minutes I needed. I started to wish I knew more about drugs  so that I could knock her out, but I knew that unless I was very  careful I could kill her. What I needed was a way to overpower her and  to make her invisible for perhaps twenty minutes. 
\par \tab Then fate again stepped in. During another shopping trip to  NYC I made the mistake of taking a short cut through a particular  alley. About half way through I became aware of someone by my side,  before I could react someone pushed something into my side and it was  all over. A cop told me later that it was a stun gun, an electrical  device that delivers the victim a debilitating charge. I figure I was  out of it for perhaps ten minutes, which had been enough time for the  guy to make off with my wallet. The police had got there so fast  because a bum sleeping in the alley had flagged them down. I had to  confess that I hadn't noticed him, and neither it seemed had my  attacker, as the cops caught him at the next block. I slipped the bum  a C note for his help before heading off to my destination. I was more  careful from then but it got me to thinking. 
\par \tab Over the next few weeks I practiced my capture technique using  an inflatable doll part filled with sand. Counting in my head, I  choreographed, handcuffing the wrists, gagging the mouth, securing the  legs. When I could bind my unresisting vinyl victim in under three  minutes I returned to the Big Apple and hired a woman who advertised  as a "Professional Submissive." She made it clear that she wasn't into  "rough stuff" but apparently rape fantasies were common to both her  male and *FEMALE* customers. 
\par \tab We worked out what she called a "scene." She would enter her  bedroom as a "tired business executive." I as a passed over rival  would jump her, bind and gag her then "punish" her for getting "My  promotion." The plot was lame but apparently a popular one with her  other customers, she offered several others but all I wanted was to  refine my technique on a real struggling body. After the first time I  made some changes, she was to make as much noise as possible at all  times, she would get a hundred dollar bonus if she kept me from tying  her for two minutes and I was allowed to tie her as I wanted. The  first couple of occasions she was up by two hundred bucks but after  that it became easier to subdue her. I tried out several types of ties  and gags looking as much for the type of movement and sounds the  victim could make as for the degree of immobilization or silence.  Finally I was happy I had found what I wanted so I packed my equipment  and started the long drive that would end with Caroline. 
\par \tab That Friday I followed her around. I kept fairly clear of the  store as it had security cameras and store cops but I attended her  regular lunch break. Her two model friends were off to a trade fair in  Chicago, bad news it seemed as she needed somewhere to stay for a few  days. The landlord was apparently evicting her on Monday and she  needed to move that weekend. With a put upon sigh one of the girls  offered a spare key to her apartment but made it clear this couldn't  be a permanent arrangement. For a second I considered rethinking my  risky plan in favor of taking her there but I figured with my luck  this apartment would be even worse than the current one. What was  clear though was that I needed to move quickly, for some reason and  despite the fact that I had intended to kidnap her the next day I felt  compelled to move things forward. Trailing her back to the store I  slipped off down back alleys to the place where she parked her car.  Then I stole it, simple when you have the keys. I'd already been  warned about the "bad" side of town so that was were I headed. I  parked in a back street and left the car open with the keys inside  before making it to a more busy street and flagging down a cab. I had  been away from the car perhaps five minutes before the cab drove past  the back street. By then the car had gone, destined for the chop shop  or perhaps a new identity like it's mistress. 
\par \tab I was dropped off in the town center and recovered my car from  the car park. Next I drove out to her place. The block was as quiet as  it got as I walked up the back stairs in my disguise. I was wearing  jeans and a hooded track suit top and had a couple of books under one  arm. As the "instant student" I went into her apartment unobserved. To  my surprise the contents of the rooms had been packed into a number of  largish boxes. Only a little food and the pillows and bedding were  still out. Good fortune having smiled on me again I started to move  the boxes down the back stairs to my car. Several people seemed to be  moving at the same time and it became easy to loose myself coming in  and out. I ensured that I was relatively unobserved loading the car  and hung around in the stairwell to ensure no one saw me enter her  apartment. It took perhaps twenty minutes to do the whole thing. I  searched afterwards to ensure that nothing valuable was left behind  but deliberately left the place untidy. As a final gesture I left the  final notice on the table together with enough cash to cover the back  rent. I reasoned the super would find it on Monday and assume she'd  moved out. I'd put the boxes on the back seat of the car but I put the  pillows and comforters in the trunk as added sound insulation.  \tab Driving to a secluded spot I got ready for the final assault.  Under the track suit top I put on a harness to which were clipped the  items I would need quickly. Looking back I wonder why I did this, my  "appointment" with Caroline wasn't for some time and the harness was  bulky. I reasoned it was best to get used to it so I didn't appear odd  when I approached her. I drove back to the town center with the  intention of hiding behind the dumpsters in the alley until she left  work. Taking a large cardboard box half full of equipment to the alley  I quietly moved one of the dumpsters a little to allow a six foot gap  between them. 
\par \tab I had just unpacked the box when a sob alerted me to someone's  approach. Dumb as it was I peered around the dumpster rather than hide  immediately. It was her! I couldn't believe it, she was walking down  the alley sobbing quietly over an hour too soon! I panicked, there  were just too many people around at this time for it to work, the  store would be closing in a few minutes and the alley would fill with  her fellow workers. The cold realization hit me that I'd overplayed my  hand, that after all the planning and expense I'd been just a little  too impatient. I couldn't take her now, but if I didn't she would  discover her car missing and the things gone from her home. There  would be police reports, questions, in essence Caroline Conway would  become too noticeable to just disappear. 
\par \tab I had failed and beyond that I was mad. Mad with Samantha for  starting this thing in the first place, mad at myself for my  impatience but above all mad at her, at Caroline, for having the ill  manners to be early the one time it really mattered. Then before I  knew what I was doing I was standing next to her. "Caroline?" I asked  and as she raised her tear-filled eyes to mine I pressed the stun gun  into her side and pushed the button. She made an "Uhhug" sound as her  contracting diaphragm forced the air from her lungs. A pained and  surprised look spread over her face as she started to fall. I directed  her on to the open sleeping bag I'd just spread between the dumpsters,  I looked down the alley both ways and saw no one, then I proceeded on  autopilot. 
\par \tab The handcuffs were first, unclipped from my harness and then  fastened, one pair on the wrists the other on the ankles. Next came a  dense sponge ball apparently designed for people to practice games  near glass windows. It was quite unyielding and despite the lack of  resistance it took some pushing in. I sealed it there with two quick  strips of duct tape, each starting along the jawline, crossing over  her lips and ending on the opposite cheek. Again I checked for people  aware that this alley would be at it's busiest in a few minutes.  Fortunately I was still safe so I continued to cover her mouth with  strip after strip of tape. Then following the plan I strengthened the  bonds before she could move again. Four leather straps, two above and  bellow the elbows, the same at her knees. I quickly removed the  handcuffs from her ankles and from the box pulled out a pair of  bondage cuffs already locked together with a padlock. I strapped them  on her ankles and she attempted to kick me and made the first sounds  since the stun gun was fired. The sound was soft but still wasn't  quiet enough, turning her on her side I gathered her hair into a  single bunch, holding it with my right hand I used my left to move an  elastic band from around the right wrist on to the hair. A couple of  quick flips and the hair was bound into a pony tail and kept out of  the way of the next stage. 
\par \tab I could hear people leaving the shops down the alley. I  thought of leaving her like this but she was still too noisy. Quickly  and brutally I wound an elastic bandage around her head and over her  taped lips. I knew it was really tight but at that moment all that  mattered was the effect it had on her cries. Not only were they more  muted, they also became lower and more guttural as she had to do more  with her throat. I could see shadows moving in the far end of the  alley. By now it was too late to escape. I would have to hide and hope  that my idea would work. Rolling her on to her stomach I used a spare  strap to hog-tie her wrists to her ankles. Satisfied I threw the other  end of the sleeping bag over her and zipped it up. After some fumbling  it was zipped, because she was near the bottom of the bag it closed  over her head. Quickly dumping the other rubbish from the box, I used  the top of the sleeping bag to pull her head up and pushed the box  down over her upper body. Dumping half a bottle of cheap whiskey and  some rubbish on the bag I stood the half bottle strategically next to  the wall and slid behind the dumpster. 
\par \tab She must have heard them because she tried to struggle and  scream as the first people walked by. Of course she was too late, the  passers by smelt the strong alcohol, saw the ripped sleeping bag and  cardboard box and "saw" a bum not a kidnapped girl. Social  conditioning being what it is the more sound she made the more she  became invisible to the passers by. Just another street person best  ignored lest they tap you for pocket change. I hid and watched,  pleased that the plan had worked but still a little disturbed at how  faceless society had become. As I crouched there I went through her  purse, found a hastily written notice of dismissal from the store and  understood the tears. Just before it was quiet enough for me to leave  for the car, two of the women from the cosmetics counter where she  worked stopped by the dumpsters. I froze convinced they had recognized  something that I'd forgotten. In the end however they just lit  cigarettes, and gossiped about how "that stupid bitch, Caroline" had  pushed her luck too far. 
\par \tab Perhaps recognizing the voices she tried to struggle and  scream again, one commented that the cops should lock such people away  and they flounced off with a self congratulatory waddle. Looking down  on her as she sobbed inside the sleeping bag I began to think that I  could be doing her a favor and that of all the people she knew only I  her kidnapper, her rapist, her MASTER really cared what happened to  her. With this in mind I checked the coast was clear and opened the  bag. The handcuffs on her wrists were already biting, cutting off her  circulation. The extra strain from the hog-tie was making it worse,  she must have been in agony. 
\par \tab I released the hog-tie and started wrapping duct tape around  her wrists, when I had built up enough I removed the handcuffs and  continued over her hands. I was able to force her to lace her fingers  together with threats of a knife and taped her fingers into a solid  mass. The result was that when I reapplied the hog-tie strap it bit  into the tape not her wrists. She seemed happy that the pain had  stopped so I re-interred her in the sleeping bag and box. Then I piled  other rubbish around her and went to get the car. That trip took me  twenty minutes and it was with some trepidation that I approached the  dumpsters again. I pulled off the box and was relieved to see her  gagged face rather than the street cop I'd half expected. She was  sobbing, huge tears ran down her face. Quickly I blew her nose and  warned her to stop blubbing or risk suffocation. I don't know how many  people walked past her as she lay bound and gagged in the alleyway,  but the experience of being so helpless yet so close to rescue had  filled her with despair. She gave me little trouble as I moved her  from the alley into the trunk of my car. I quickly packed the blankets  and pillows around her to further muffle her and to minimize the risk  she could somehow pound on the metal of the car. Satisfied I quickly  cleaned up, dumping most of the stage dressing for my "bum" in the  dumpsters. I started to throw the whiskey in too but an impulse  stopped me and instead I placed it where only an invisible man would  look and left to take my prize to her new home.    
\par \tab Chapter 2: An Introduction to Slavery 
\par \tab Sitting there sipping the coffee and reviewing the past few  weeks I felt the tension slowly drain from my body. I had her. Not  only that but as far as I could see I had left no clues other than  ones that pointed to her leaving of her own free will. Police don't  handle missing persons cases promptly anyway because the majority of  people turn up in the first few days. Seen from their point of view we  have Caroline Conway, struggling student already being evicted who  suddenly looses her job then disappears with all her possessions. Not  a good candidate for being a criminal case. I packed everything away  and started to put the pieces of her gag into the McDonalds bag along  with the wrappers. At length I picked up a piece of tape with traces  of her lipstick on it. The color seemed in some way wrong for her and  it struck me as being a little odd that someone who made money  applying makeup should botch her own so badly. Still this was a  mystery I would have plenty of time to investigate at my leisure.  
\par \tab Starting the car I left the hollow and headed back to the  highway. I was about four hours from home a distance I intended to  take in one go. I'd held out the hope of other layovers and chances of  rescue to buy her cooperation and I wondered how long it would be  before she realized she'd been tricked, assuming that she noticed  anything above the persistent throbbing in her crotch. Not that it  really mattered of course as she didn't have a chance to complain. The  rest of the drive was fairly uneventful, I stopped for gas once at a  small self service station. If I had been unlucky I suppose someone  could had driven up and heard her, but it was about 2am by now and the  cashier and I were the only ones for miles. 
\par \tab It was about four when I pulled up outside my house. A stand  of trees and a high brick wall shields it from the road so I could  remove her without attracting any attention. Again I hobbled her legs,  though this time she was more cooperative probably to speed removal of  the vibrator that still buzzed inside her. Her thighs were slick with  her cum and the sweat told of her exertions. Taking the leash I lead  her into the house and down into the basement. I'd left part of it  unfinished so that the odd nail or hole wouldn't look out of place.  Originally I had planned a large lab under my office but now that  section of the basement was hidden behind a swinging bookcase in the  corner. For now I locked the leash over an exposed beam and left her  there. Racing upstairs I changed into my master's outfit, a cotton  shirt, black leather pants, boots and matching gloves, after all my  first act would be to dress my slave appropriately and the least I  could do was reciprocate. I returned to the basement where she was  trying the extent of the leash and screaming behind the gag. Without  saying a word I moved the bookcase and stepped beyond. This space had  been designed to be fairly large. Originally I had intended to  surprise my friends with this room and so had kept it a secret. That  was useful now it's purpose had changed as it stopped embarrassing  questions.. At the far end I had built a small room with a heavy iron  door. Inside was quite spacious, enough room for a double bed, a  chair, a table and a chemical toilet. That was her cell the rest of  the place could best be described as the dungeon. On one wall I had  cemented in a steel latticework that stood out a couple of inches from  the wall itself. This provided ample anchoring points for straps and  restraints. The other wall had a number of large rings for the same  purpose. Near the door was a locked steel cabinet and an old wooded  wardrobe. 
\par \tab Going to the wardrobe first, I selected an outfit for her to  wear from the clothes I kept there. The visit to her apartment had  shown me that she was a conservative dresser. This outfit screamed  slut and sex and was guaranteed to embarrass her. I had no doubt the  kidnapping had rattled her, now I had to keep her hesitant,  uncomfortable and unsure as I started to mold her as my slave. Most of  the clothes here were off the shelf vinyl, leather and rubber stuff  from the sex shops of New York. Being her first night however I went  for something special. I'd ordered this ensemble from a specialist  shop in LA. using the measurements I'd taken from her clothes. Their  catalog had contained several more specialist creations which I  intended to order once I'd broken her in. Next I unlocked the cabinet  and removed some restraints, a new gag, a pair of shears and a small  riding crop then returned to the main basement. 
\par \tab By now she had given up struggling and just stood in the  center of the room shifting her weight from foot to foot. I let her  stew a little longer as I walked around and surveyed her fine body.  Then I walked over and removed first her heels then the cuffs from her  ankles. The sudden loss of height made the leash pull tighter at the  collar and she whimpered slightly. I reached down, placed the shears  against the hem of her skirt and with one movement cut it all the way  to her hips. Of course I could have removed the skirt without cutting,  but these clothes were her last personal possession, the last vestige  of her personal identity. Destroying them was a symbolic act. The  skirt was relatively simple, the jacket took more time, the blouse  shredded in seconds. By now she was yelling and thrashing around, but  the ever present bite of the collar kept her in check. I felt a little  guilty cutting off her bra and garter belt, I loved lingerie, but  accepted it had to be done. Finally I pulled off her stockings and she  stood before me naked but for the bondage, her blindfolded face  tracking backwards and forwards waiting for the next attack. Her  breasts heaved as she sobbed silently. I looked at the matted triangle  of her pubic hair, damp from the vibrator but still too thick for my  taste, she had an appointment with a razor tomorrow. 
\par \tab Next I moved a small table close enough to her that she could  reach it with some effort and placed the outfit on it Then I cut the  tape from her wrists and her hands before removing the blindfold.  \tab She stood blinking as sight returned. then immediately her  hands flew first to the back of her head where the gag was secured  then to her neck and the collar. In both cases she found small  padlocks making removal impossible. She murmured something then turned  to face me. I flexed the crop and smiled. 
\par \tab "From now on I will call you slave or cunt, you will call me  master or sir. You have no rights, I own you completely, even your  body is mine, understand?" Her big blue eyes just stared at me  incredulously. 
\par \tab "I want an answer slave, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" This time when  there was no answer I slapped her breast with the crop, she jerked to  attention. I pulled the crop back as if I was going to strike her  face, she held up her arms and cowered. 
\par \tab "Understand?" 
\par \tab She nodded. 
\par \tab "Good, lesson one obey first time every time and you'll avoid  punishment. If you don't you'll soon understand what pain really  means. Clear?" 
\par \tab She nodded, this time the response was much quicker.  
\par \tab "You are here as a sex slave, as your master I will use your  body as I see fit for my personal pleasure. You will obey me  immediately and do the same for any others I designate. If you obey  orders and don't try to escape you will avoid punishment, if not the  severity of the punishment will increase. I won't kill you unless, you  threaten my life or my security but push me too far and I can  permanently disfigure you. Understand?" 
\par \tab Again the nod, this time however she was looking at the ground  so I put the end of the crop under her chin and raised her head so  that I could stare into her frightened eyes. I pointed to the clothes  on the table with the crop. 
\par \tab "Put those on." 
\par \tab She looked at them, on top was a shiny black latex bustier, at  various points the rubber had been ribbed to provide support making it  resemble a space age corset. She turned to me and I could see that she  was thinking about it. 
\par \tab "Put it on." 
\par \tab She continued to just stand, I had brought some handcuffs with  me in case she was difficult. I was going to cuff her hands and punish  her when suddenly I saw a better solution. I pulled the table back out  of her reach and smiled. "We'll see how you feel in the morning." I  said and turned towards the stairs. I was halfway up them when I heard  her frantic mewing. She had realized that eventually her legs would  tire and that she would be choked by the leash. I went back down  stairs. 
\par \tab "Ready to cooperate?" 
\par \tab She looked at the floor, then nodded. I offered her the  bustier, but when she reached for it I snatched it back. 
\par \tab "First, dance for me." 
\par \tab She looked confused. 
\par \tab "Obey me first time, every time remember? This is your  punishment, I'm going to go easy on you this time. Now dance or I'm  off to bed." Slowly she started to gyrate as much as the chain would  let her. "Is that the best you can do? Sexy, Slave I want you to dance  sexy." I didn't think she was really trying so I applied the crop to  the sections that didn't move enough. She yelped a little but after  about the first dozen she was doing the best she could. I could tell  that the nakedness troubled her. Right now she would rather wear the  kinky clothes than stay like this. Most of my blows had been to make  her move her hands from breast or crotch, I figured if she wanted to  touch them that much I should encourage her. 
\par \tab I smiled, "I'm afraid that you've proved you don't deserve  this fine outfit. If you want it then you are going to have to earn it  piece by piece. Now cup your breasts and offer them to me. A muffled  sound came from behind the gag." "First lesson!" I said as I settled  back in a chair. She cupped her breasts in her hands and thrust her  chest at me while all the time gyrating to some imaginary tune. "Now  play with the nipples. When she hesitated I flicked the crop towards  her. She sobbed but her hands slid up her breasts and her thumbs  flicked the brown nubs which soon hardened before her. I tossed the  bustier to her. "Slide it up and down your body." This time she  complied quickly, making involuntary crooning sounds as the cold latex  touched her hard, sensitive nipples. Finally I'd seen enough. "Ok now  put it on." She struggled into it, all the time eyeing the crop  fearfully. It fit her better than expected, forming a shiny second  skin from just below her nipples to just above her crotch. It was so  tight that her navel was clearly visible and her tits were trust up  and out making them appear even more prominent. The hard brown nubs of  her nipples stood to attention just above the top of the cups and just  cried out for attention. I began to regret not bringing some clamps  with me. Still there was time for that later. 
\par \tab I held up a long black latex glove. 
\par \tab "Play with yourself, you don't get it until you're wet." She  glanced at the glove then at the stairs. Then, while one hand  continued to stroke and fondle her latex covered breast and nipple,  the other drifted to her clit where she started to finger herself. I  looked at her, the eyes where now glazed and full of silent tears. I  tossed her the glove. "Get off with it, " I said. 
\par \tab She looked up eyes full of both humiliation and confusion.  Grabbing the other glove I passed it between my legs then with one  hand holding from the front and the other from the rear I slid it  backwards and forwards across my crotch. She looked on horrified and I  was sure she would die rather than do it. Then slowly with hands  shaking she copied my action dragging the slick glove backwards and  forwards across her cunt until the surface was wet with her cum. I  made her repeat the procedure for the second glove. Her hands were  shaking when she slowly pulled the gloves up her arms. I made her  continue to play with herself and the tactile stimulation of the  smooth latex seemed to seize her. Suddenly she closed her eyes arched  her back and started to play in earnest, oblivious to my presence. At  first I was tempted to whip her, then I remembered the discomfort she  had shown at my seeing her naked. Quietly I slipped back to the  dungeon and took a loaded camera from the cabinet. By this time she  was so far gone that she didn't realize what I was doing until I  already had three shots. She stood there horrified at what she was  doing and of the thought that it was captured on film. I seized on her  confusion and quickly tossed her the latex stockings with instructions  to put them on. I took more photos as she pulled them up her legs and  fastened them to the garters of the bustier. 
\par \tab Next I passed her one of the five inch stiletto boots.  
\par \tab "Fuck yourself with the heel." 
\par \tab By now tears of humiliation and frustration were following  down her face, she looked at the floor sniffed and brought the heel up  to her cunt. 
\par \tab "You don't get the other one until I see you cum, understand?"  She nodded and started to move the heel in and out. I snapped more  photos, she stopped, sobbed and tried to say something. 
\par \tab "Keep it up," I said, "We don't have all night." 
\par \tab She tried to say something again. I brought the crop down on  one of her exposed nipples. She let out a muffled scream.  
\par \tab "You'll get one every 30 seconds until I see you cum, now do  it cunt or my god I'll make you suffer!" 
\par \tab She started in earnest ramming the heel in and out of her  hole. True to my word I slapped her when the 30 seconds were up, after  that though it was unnescessary. She bucked and moaned her upper  thighs and the tops of her stockings now slick with her juices.  Finally she shivered and groaned, I just tossed her the other boot.  
\par \tab "Put them on." 
\par \tab She stood before me a vision in leather and latex, no slut or  whore could look more perfect. From the bondage elements of collar and  gag, though the sheer kinkyness of the outfit to her juices streaming  down her latex clad thighs I surveyed my slave. Behind the shame and  humiliation in her tear-filled eyes there still burned a trace of  defiance, something I could break over the next few months as I molded  her into my creature. 
\par \tab "If you had obeyed me first time an hour ago we could both  have been in bed by now and you could have saved yourself all this  trouble." She nodded, tears still rolling down her face. I tossed her  some leather cuffs. "Wrists and ankles, NOW!" She put them on without  hesitation all the while looking at me with those big eyes. I stepped  behind her and fastened the wrist cuffs together before adding a  hobble chain to the ones at her ankles. Then I removed the leash and  lead her to the chair next to the small table. Using some of the  straps I'd removed earlier I secured her to the chair. She was  unresisting, all rebellion temporarily crushed by humiliation and  shame. 
\par \tab I removed the gag and offered her a drink. She accepted then  asked, 
\par \tab "Why me?" 
\par \tab "Because I wanted you," I said. 
\par \tab "But I ha..." 
\par \tab I slapped her mouth. She looked at me stunned. "Not *I*," I  said, "Only a person can be an *I*. You are not a person, you're an  object like any possession. *YOU* don't exist anymore and haven't done  since the moment I took you. The only identity you'll have from now on  is the one I choose to give you." 
\par \tab She looked up, terrified tears welling in her eyes again.  
\par \tab "From now on you will refer to yourself as `slave', 
\par understand." That's all you are for the moment, just a thing for my  pleasure. I may give you another identity some day but you'll have to  earn it first. Say, `I am a cock sucking slave slut.'" She shook her  head her self esteem denying this last humiliation.. I brought the  crop down hard on her right nipple, she yelped. "Say it!"  
\par \tab "NO!" 
\par \tab I spun the chair around. Now had access to her uncovered cunt  and her legs were strapped to the chair where she couldn't close them.  I whipped her exposed pussy. 
\par \tab "I am a cock sucking slave slut! Please Master stop... " she  screamed then started sobbing. 
\par \tab I pushed the ball gag I'd taken from the cabinet between her  teeth and fastened the strap. Her brief show of resistance had  crumbled, I unfastened her from the chair and lead her into the cell.  There I fastened the collar to a steel wire attached to a pulley wheel  on the ceiling. The wheel ran on a small track which lead from the bed  to the toilet. I kept her hands cuffed behind her but removed the  hobble. She lay on the bed sobbing. "Hey cunt," She looked up, "Just  something to contemplate, I haven't punished you for your insolence  back there. I have something in mind but it will have to wait until  morning, you might want to ponder that." I closed the cell door on her  muffled cries.  
\par \tab Chapter 3: Opening Events 
\par \tab I don't think there has been a moment in my life that compares  with the realization that I'd got her. My mind was full of  possibilities, of the things I'd planed and of my slave. I fell to  sleep that night with the image of my slave, bound, gagged and subdued  in all her fetish finery burning itself into my brain. 
\par \tab I awoke full of life, reveling in my achievement. Although I'd  read of many cases of sexual abduction (in fact studied many in  preparation for this) no one had achieved what I had done. I had a  pretty coed bound and gagged in my basement, kidnapped from a busy  alleyway in plain sight of at least a dozen people. 
\par \tab I felt like a god, now at last I had a woman who couldn't say  no, who wouldn't lead me on and then dump me as Samantha had. I  chuckled to myself, for now she was my prisoner but soon I would start  to train her as my slave. Slowly over the coming months, using  torture, humiliation and sex I would slowly break her, destroying her  identity, her self worth and gradually crushing her will until there  would be nothing no mater how low or vile that she wouldn't do if I  ordered it. 
\par \tab I gradually let the megalomania sweep over me savoring every  moment..... then I pulled myself back into line and started exercising  the personal discipline expected of the master of such a beautiful  slave. One feature of the house that had been in the design from the  beginning was it's audiovisual distribution system. In happier times  I'd intended it to allow Sam and I to access cable, satellite or video  from any part of the house. It had proved extremely flexible and  coupled with hidden camera's from an enhanced security system gave me  access to any room in the house. Reaching for a remote I turned on the  bedroom monitor and entered the security code that accessed the camera  in Caroline's cell. 
\par \tab Caroline slept fitfully under the dimmed lights of the room.  Her position had changed little since I'd left her. Her hair was  tousled though still held it it's makeshift ponytail. A few blonde  strands had escaped and lay on her pillow next to the damp patch where  she had drooled past the gag. She looked so helpless that I was half  tempted to go down and wake her, but I'd been planning this for months  and could wait. With remarkable resolve given the circumstances I  turned off the monitor, bathed, dressed and went downstairs.  
\par \tab In my haste to get Caroline inside last night I'd left the car  next to the side door instead of in the garage. Whilst this wasn't a  problem (the driveway has a gate) part of me wanted to get the car out  of sight as soon as possible. 
\par \tab I backed the car into the garage then started to transfer it's  contents into a small storage room at the back. Most of Caroline's  sparse belongings were destined for the bonfire, I'd only taken them  to support the idea that she had moved out.. Some things however were  more important and as I stacked the boxes for later sorting I came  across exactly what I'd been looking for, a small box full of her  personal papers. Finishing up I took the box inside and made myself  breakfast. 
\par \tab The box contained the sorts of things you'd expect, High  School diploma, family photo's, letters. The real find for me though  were the diaries, about a dozen of them ranging from exercise books to  pretty little things with brass colored clasp locks. The collected  thoughts of a girl from her early teens to the present, invaluable  stuff for her kidnapper. Ultimately these would be the skeleton keys  that would allow me to unlock her mind and give me access to the deep  personal places I'd have to violate if she was ever really to be my  slave. For now however they had a more practical use. 
\par \tab The kidnapping itself had gone without a hitch, my "Bum" rouse  had allowed me to take her in broad daylight surrounded by people. In  addition the loss of her job and apartment had given her a good motive  to disappear. For the moment her friends would think she was at home  and her family would think she was still at university, it was  perfect. Unfortunately it was also temporary. Sooner or latter some  friend would try calling her at home or family letters would be  returned unanswered. Eventually the alarm would be raised. The police  would investigate and it could be that they would find something I'd  overlooked. 
\par \tab Alternatively they could find a witness who remembered the  strange student in Caroline's building on the day she disappeared or  someone who could place a man in the alleyway that evening. I needed  to buy time for memories to fade or better yet, direct people's  attention away from that area all together. In short I needed letters,  cheery postcards sent to favored relatives, excited jottings to  friends all in saying the same thing. "I'm alive, free and happy  living in another state." I had no doubt I could get her cooperation,  apart from physical torture I controlled all aspects of her life from  food and drink to when and if she went to the toilet. Eventually when  she'd been conditioned to obey that would be unnecessary, but for now  I needed information. 
\par \tab I needed a source from which I could verify birthdays and the  existence of relatives. Whilst I intended for her letters to appear  self absorbed and mention as little as possible that could be  verified, missing a favorite aunts birthday could give the family a  clue that something was wrong. Yet I had to be able to check her  writings so that she could not pass a distress message in the letters.  The diaries would be my verification. I started sorting through the  books wondering how difficult it would be to break the spines and scan  them into a database. Then suddenly I came across something odd. One  of the pretty notebooks with the brass clasps had been forced. At  first I assumed she'd lost the key though this didn't make much sense  as the locks are principally decorative and a key from any of the  earlier diaries would fit. Then I noticed that some of the pages had  been torn out. The book covered summer of three years ago around the  time of her fifteenth birthday. I decided to look into this later, for  now however I divided my time between eating breakfast, reading her  mail and watching "Caroline TV". 
\par \tab Her bound form was just as tempting as ever. She thrashed  around on the bed in a feeble attempt to wiggle free. Then she spent  about twenty minutes rubbing her mouth against the edge of the bed  trying to work the gag free. Finally, realizing that escape was futile  she lay back down and sobbed. 
\par \tab Looking down I found I was hard again. Summoning up my self  control I managed to go to my study and knock off a quick thousand  words on "Power PC vs. Pentium" for my New York publisher. In breaks  for inspiration I continued through her mail and made a startling  discovery. Caroline was the daughter of the REVEREND Charles Conway  and his wife Judith. Quickly I paged through the photo albums until I  found what I wanted. The family portrait was not inspiring, an older  dour looking man, the picture of a bible bashing Baptist stood next to  his younger dowdy, once pretty wife. He looked fierce and unbending,  Judith looked down, the perfect picture of subservience. One of the  reverend's eyes seemed fixed on the girls Caroline and her younger  sister Anna, who stood with military stiffness before him. Now  Caroline's drab taste in clothes began to make sense. Suddenly I could  also see a way to get her to write me those letters. It would require  some planning so I shelved it for now but the thought of it clawed at  my mind and in the end I could resist no longer. I quickly finishing  up the article, hurried to the kitchen and made her a light breakfast  of cereal and coffee then took it down to the dungeon. In one corner  of the room was a large heavy wooden kitchen table I had bought at a  garage sale. It had looked like the kind of thing grandma Walton used  to bake pies on. For my needs numerous D rings were attached to the  frame, legs and top giving it a more sinister purpose. For now however  I needed it to be just a table. Pulling it into the center of the room  I cleared the top of bondage paraphernalia then added an old wooden  chair to which I had also added straps.. 
\par \tab Pausing I realized that this would be a good time to test the  most impressive addition I'd made to the chair. Putting breakfast on  the table I went to the locked cabinet and removed some extra pieces  one of which I bolted to the chair the other I pocketed. Then I went  to awaken the slave. She was lying much as I'd last seen her still  bound and gagged, still in the latex outfit. My erection returned as I  unfastened the wire from the collar, hobbled her and lead her whining  and struggling into the dungeon. 
\par \tab When we reached the chair she stopped struggling and stared in  astonishment. From the center of the seat a long polished wooden  phallus emerged making the chair look like it had an erection. She  turned to look at me, eyes wide, head starting to shake. She tried to  say something, mouth chewing helplessly on the ball. I pushed her  towards the chair, she attempted to resist. Needless to say I won,  five inch stilettos being hard enough to walk in let alone anything  else. Hobbled, she couldn't even brace herself and soon she was  hovering over the wooden cock. 
\par \tab "It's lubricated," I said, "And it's not that thick. It's  going to hurt less than the punishment you've just earned yourself."  She continued to struggle, I really hadn't expected anything else, but  when penetration by the wooden rapist was inevitable she relaxed and  allowed me to settle her on it. 
\par \tab Reaching into my pocket I produced its twin and waved it in  front of her eyes. "Guess where this one goes slave." 
\par \tab She looked at me beseechingly, knowing that she was helpless  and silently begging for mercy. I crouched down and started to strap  her ankles to the chair legs. It was a tough fight as she struggled to  keep her legs closed. But she was in an impossible position and once  her legs where strapped open I found it surprisingly easy to slide the  dildo inside. The back of the phallus had a large bolt fastened to it  and after burying the 7 inches of wood in the girl I pushed the bolt  through a hole in the chair seat and fastened a nut to the other side.  There was a small wrench velcroed to the bottom of the seat which I  used to tighten the nut before pocketing it. 
\par \tab Caroline and the chair were now effectively bolted together,  there was no way she could stand or walk and without a wrench and a  lot of time no way she could get free. Now, with her legs strapped  open the wooden intruder was obvious but I could see that hidden  beneath a full skirt it would be difficult to see anything amiss. I  thought of the other chair I had upstairs, the one with the nice  finish and just the mountings for the dildos. Dressed in regular  clothes and bolted to the chair I could take photo's of Caroline with  no obvious restraints. I smiled, the family could expect a few  pictures with her letters. Returning to my slave I chained her collar  to the table, freed her hands and pulled the gag from her mouth.  Rather than remove it completely I let it hang around her neck like a  strange fetish necklace, a constant reminder that I could enforce her  silence at any time. She picked up the coffee and drank greedily, I  topped up the cup. 
\par \tab She drained that also, then as I moved the cereal towards her  she spoke. 
\par \tab "Sir....." 
\par \tab "I prefer Master," I said with a smile. 
\par \tab "Err, Master.... Erm please let me go...... I promise I won't  tell anyone about this. I want to go home, please." 
\par \tab I suppose that my sadistic side had free reign at that moment  because instead of telling her to shut up and eat her cereal I decided  to play with her. 
\par \tab "You must realize, Cunt, that taking you wasn't a whim. I've  invested quite a lot of time and money in this affair. To return you  now would put me at a lot of risk even if I could trust you not to run  to the police. What could you offer me in return?" She swallowed  nervously, calling her `Cunt' like that had rattled her self  confidence. "I...I could suck you...." The look on my face must have  told her this wasn't enough for in a whisper she added, "Or we could  do it..... If you want." 
\par \tab "I'm sorry," I said, "Where you offering sex?" She nodded,  speechless. "In that case I want you to say, you can FUCK me Master,  If you want." 
\par \tab "You can.... fuck me Master. If you want." 
\par \tab "Louder!" 
\par \tab "YOU CAN FUCK ME MASTER, IF YOU WANT..." 
\par \tab "Much better. Tempting as your offer is, the reality of your  situation is that I could tie you to this table in five minutes and  fuck your brains out whether you liked it or not. I could do the same  tomorrow and the next day and the next. You can't bargain with what  you don't own, and your body, together with the rest of you is now  mine." She looked dejected then she started jabbering. Telling me I  would be caught and punished and she wished I was dead and...  
\par \tab In the end only the threat of the gag got her to shut up and  eat. 
\par \tab When she'd finished I hobbled her again and unbolted her from  the chair. As I helped her up off the shit covered phallus I was  reminded of something. 
\par \tab "Did you use the John?" She looked at me speechless.  
\par \tab "The chemical toilet, did you use it?" 
\par \tab She nodded. 
\par \tab "Good 'cos that's the last chance you'll have for a while." I  took her to the wall and chained her to the gridwork whilst I  collected a few things from the cabinet. 
\par \tab First thing I did when I got back was try to gag her again.  The gag was not strictly necessary as the room was soundproofed but it  helped reinforce her helplessness and a knew she didn't like it. The  ball gag was decorative but not very effective so leaving it where it  was I held a padded gag against her mouth. This type of gag has a very  large soft rubber mouthpiece fastened to a padded leather section that  is strapped over the mouth. It was, I suppose a non inflatable version  of the gag I'd fitted her with the night before. This time however she  closed her mouth firmly and refused to open it. 
\par \tab I smiled. "You must really like to be punished," I said, "It's  going to take me most of the day just to work off what you've earned  so far." 
\par \tab Her eyes widened. 
\par \tab "Oh yes you're going to be punished for last night, you didn't  think I'd forgotten did you?" I could tell by the look in her eyes  that *SHE* had forgotten." 
\par \tab "Open up like a good girl and I'll forgive you this time. This  is pointless anyway, the room is soundproofed so even without the gag  you are just as helpless." 
\par \tab She shook her head defiantly, I could see that a lesson was in  order. Going to the cabinet I retrieved a posture collar and a roll of  duct tape. Removing the ball gag from her neck I fitted the posture  collar firmly in place. Of course she resisted but the ponytail made  an excellent handhold and after five minutes her old collar was  replaced by a high stiff one that stopped her turning her head. A  couple of straps between the gridwork and the collar and she was  fastened to the wall facing me. Slowly, deliberately, I stuck strip  after strip of tape over her closed lips. I think she thought I was  trying to gag her a different way because she just stood there smugly.  She seemed a little amused when I went into her cell and returned  moments later with a strip of toilet paper. One thing was certain  however she wasn't laughing when I shoved a small ball of toilet paper  up each nostril and sealed it there with tape. She started to cry out  and thrash as much as she could. I just added tape if a leak appeared  in her mouth covering and waited. All the activity burnt the air in  her lungs quickly and before long she stopped thrashing, face red,  eye's bulging as she strained against the bonds, lungs screaming for  the oxygen I'd denied them. 
\par \tab "Perhaps I should gag you this way instead," I suggested,  watching as wild panic and desperation consumed her. Then suddenly I  reached out and in one move tore the tape mask from her lower face.  She let out an explosive breath and with mouth wide open drew in her  first lung full of life giving air. I gagged her, shoving the  mouthpiece into her wide, open mouth just as she finished that first  breath. It was large enough to stay put without the straps so next I  removed the tape and paper from her nose. Then I tightened the gag. I  think she was just happy to breath as I had no further trouble. I held  one of the toilet paper balls in front of her wide eyes..  
\par \tab "This is a lesson. You are helpless, so helpless I can take  your life with toilet paper if I wanted to. First time, *EVERY* time  slave, this is not optional. Next time you try to stop me gagging you  the tape stays on twice as long, keep it up and I may decide that you  aren't worth the trouble and leave it on, understand??" She nodded.  
\par \tab That settled I continued with the preparations. I replaced the  hobble with a spreader bar forcing her legs open into a wide triangle.  I could tell that she didn't like being this exposed, but experience  was starting to teach her that resistance could offer worse things  than just pain. I left her wrists cuffed together but added straps to  her upper arms that also helped to pull her shoulders back and push  her tits out. To help this along even further I threaded a rope from  her elbow straps to her wrists then from there through a D ring in the  center of the spreader bar. Pulling on it pulled her arms down, arched  her back and thrust the tits out further. Releasing her from the wall  I dragged her under a ring to which I attached her collar. Next came  the butt plug. She looked at me puzzled as I approached her with it  then as I pushed it's greased surface inside her ass she squirmed and  made small noises behind the gag. I started to unwind the wires  attached to it, before packing her cunt with a large metal studded  rubber dildo with similar attachments. I fastened the wires to a small  metal box which I clipped to the spreader bar, covered twat and ass  with a pair of snap on leather panties and I was almost set.  
\par \tab I finally got to do something I'd looked forward to since I'd  seen her nice tits. The nipple clamps had a small length of chain  between them and must have looked like jewelry because she didn't  start struggling until I clipped the first one on. Even then there was  little she could do her body being forced into a tight stiff pose by  the strict bondage. I clipped the second one on the other nipple then  freed the rope fastened to her wrists and pulled until she was bent  back as far as I thought she could stand. Then I tied the rope to the  nip clamp's chain. Now any attempt to lean forward would drag on the  chain which in turn would pull on the clamps, these were the type that  bit harder as pressure increased. 
\par \tab She moaned and tried to say something looking at me with large  accusing eyes, still that I could fix. I fitted her with the padded  blindfold I'd used on her the night before. The posture collar stopped  any of the struggling nonsense this time and when I was finished only  her nose was not covered by shiny black leather. Next I attached a  couple of small arms from the box to the wrist rope where it went  through the spreader bar. Then I attached two cables from the box to  the wall, one AC power the other to the building ethernet.  
\par \tab Caroline started to twitch as the dildo and butt plus started  their low frequency vibration. As she squirmed she pulled on the rope  attached to her nipples and slowly tortured herself. I looked at her  as she winced and writhed, vision in leather and latex. The butt of  the dildo was pushed tight, straining against the leather panties  looking for all the world like a small cylindrical dick. As I watched  it began to move as her cunt muscles squeezed it out and the tight  panties forced it back in. I knew that the vibration though  stimulating was not enough to bring her off instead she would have to  stand there in a state of sexual frustration until I chose to release  her. However being a considerate sort I'd arranged a small  distraction. 
\par \tab "Slave," She ignored me trapped in her private world. "Slave,"  I slapped her right nipple with the crop which got her attention.  
\par \tab "Frustrating isn't it?" Of course she had no way of answering,  the posture collar stopped all head movement and gag and blindfold  dealt with everything else. "The good news is that the vibrator will  go faster the further forward you lean. She lent forward a little and  sure enough the pitch of the vibrator increased, of course the clamps  did painful things to her nipples. She leaned back and suddenly when  crazy struggling and screaming in pain. 
\par \tab "Lean forward!" I commanded. she seemed in too much pain to  notice me so I grabbed her shoulders and pulled forward. Immediately  the pressure on the nipples increased and she tried to struggle more.  I held her there and the pain subsided. 
\par \tab "That was the bad news, periodically a small electrical shock  will be administered to your cunt and anus. To switch it off you need  to lean forward and hold the pose for five seconds. Every time the  shock comes it will have a higher intensity and will take longer to  shut off." 
\par \tab Again she tried to say something. I continued, "Just before  the shock you will hear my voice giving you an instruction. Obey it  and the shock will be avoided. fail and you know what happens."  \tab I looked behind me at the camera that would let me watch all  this from the comfort of my office then prepared to leave. Reaching up  I released her hair from the pony tail and let the blond locks cascade  around her shoulders. Finally I fitted her with a pair of light  headphones which I attached to the AV. grid. She twitched and leaned  forward obviously too late to stop the shock. I stood silently for a  few minutes watching her move the little she could in response to my  computer generated instructions. The moans issuing from behind her gag  showed me that she had discovered the other benifit of obedience, the  sudden high speed burst from the vibrators that came when she reacted  immediately. The rewards were short so that she wouldn't be able to  cum but in her painful position these flashes of pleasure would be  very welcome. She started to obey the commands with increasing  enthusiasm and I noticed that her cunt was already juicing up again. I  watched for a few more minutes then left to watch "television".  
\par \tab The rest of the morning I worked, easily clearing the backlog  that had built up during my preparation for the kidnapping. On the TV  I watched as Caroline continued to thrash around. A window on my PC  monitor showed the current score. Shocked twelve times she was  currently on her 150th order and getting tired. I smiled, Caroline  would have spotted immediately that I was using an aversive  conditioning technique. As a method of brainwashing it was slow and  primitive but it was also effective. As a Psych major Caroline  probably understood that her brain was being conditioned to obey my  voice. She may even have noticed that the headphones, gag, gloves and  blindfold had enforced a kind of sensory deprivation and that the  insistent buzz of the vibrator was robbing her of the ability to  focus. However just as you can shoot a ballistics expert, her skills  could not protect her against this application of her science.  
\par \tab The persistent computer continued to pound orders into the  primitive areas of her brain offering pleasure for compliance and pain  for disobedience. 
\par \tab I imagined the horror, to understand exactly what was being  done to her mind, to realize that in a few weeks her will would be  broken and she would obey me like a dog eager to get my approval.  Perhaps some part of her mind realizing what was happening but  powerless to resist...... 
\par \tab Another rush of megalomania and then I shut down the program  and went downstairs. 
\par \tab She stood, legs trembling. I could tell that she wanted to  slump down but the tether at her collar prevented it. Her latex  stockings were again coated in her juices her body covered in sweat. I  freed her ankles first holding her steady as she moved her legs for  the first time in several hours. Next I disconnected everything,  though I left the vibrator and butt plugs in their respective holes.  Finally I freed her neck and fastened a leash to the collar. Taking  the spreader bar along I lead her up from the dungeon and into the  house. This is not as risky as it sounds, I have an excellent security  system that warns me of any visitors and a gate ensures that they can  only reach the house if I want them to. I sat her on a kitchen chair  and gave her water. She said nothing but "Thank you Master" at the end  all fight temporarily gone. 
\par \tab In fact she seemed so submissive that my hard on returned and  this time would not be denied. I decided to do something about it.  
\par \tab With the gag still hanging from her neck I took her to the  living room where I replaced the spreader and used the remaining ropes  to secure her wrists to it. This resulted in a kind of hog-tie which  left her kneeling before me as I sat in my chair. Unfastening my  leather pants I pulled my hard dick free then pulled her head towards  it. 
\par \tab "I'm giving you the honor of blowing me slave, do it well and  you will be excused punishment for the rest of the afternoon." I did  consider telling her what would happen to her if she bit me, but I  thought that could give her idea's. I had a ring gag for just this  occasion but it was downstairs in the cabinet so I watched with some  trepidation as her mouth engulfed me. 
\par \tab I was intending to give her demerits based on lousy technique.  Sam gave great head and I had come to expect a lot from my partner. It  soon became apparent though as the tip of her tongue played lightly  over the engorged head that Caroline was a virtuoso on the skin flute.  I gasped, struck dumb as she sucked on my balls, next she deep  throated me quickly and easily with no hint of gagging. I looked down  at her blindfolded face, mouth around my dick a dribble of my precum  on her chin and the only thought on my mind was that I was glad she  couldn't see the stupid grin on my face. Somehow through the haze of  rapidly mounting pleasure I remembered what I'd planned to do during  this occasion. Hands trembling I reached for the remote control unit  on the table beside me. I still don't know how I found the right  button (she was licking the length of my dick like a lollipop at the  time), yet I managed to push it. Then I sat back enraptured whilst  somewhere in the bowels of the house a computer executed it's program.  
\par \tab Ten seconds later the phone rang. We both stiffened I through  release of anticipation, she in shock. Her mouth was still around my  dick so using one hand to hold her head in place I answered the phone.  
\par \tab The voice on the other end was that of the house management  computer telling me the internal temperature, the selections on the  VCR, the states of the lights, but for Caroline's benefit I pretended  it was a friend a few miles down the road wanting to visit.  
\par \tab "Sure Bob come on over," I said aware of the faint noises  coming from my dick gagged slave, "But give me a few minutes ok, I was  just playing with a new toy and need a few minutes to tidy up."  
\par \tab I hung up, pleased she hadn't decided to bite me. It had been  a risk without the ring gag but a small one. I figured the gag  incident would stop her from trying anything too extreme for a while.  
\par \tab I grabbed the side of her head, actively fucking her face for  the first time. She wasn't stupid, she took this as a signal I wanted  to finish, stopped teasing and instead started sucking hard and  bobbing backwards and forwards in a strong persistent rhythm. I could  hear the tiny metal clanking noises that the nipple clamps chain made  as it struck the tight leather of the bustier. I felt I would die in  ecstasy and wondered if Caroline would be rescued with me gone. My  hazy mind was full of the headlines "Noted writer dies in kinky sex  session, girlfriend unable to free herself dies of exposure." Then  suddenly I exploded in her mouth. 
\par \tab "Swallow every drop slave, every mark on the carpet is one on  your hide." She needed no extra encouragement swallowing the cum with  a terrified look on her face. 
\par \tab I took hold of the gag around her neck and pushed the rubber  mouthpiece against her lips. "Open wide slave, we have guests coming  and it's time to make sure that you stay good and quiet!" She  hesitated, but only for a second until she remembered the  repercussions. The gag lesson was one that had been well learned.  
\par \tab I strapped the gag tightly ensuring that she could make only  the slightest of noises, then I dragged her across the room and behind  a large couch. The spreader bar hog-tie arrangement was strict enough,  but to avoid her rubbing her crotch against the floor I turned her on  her back so that her heels and shoulders formed a tripod arrangement  with her knees and pussy thrust high in the air. She moaned slightly  at the uncomfortable position but hey, she's the slave. Still I did  feel a little guilty after she gave such good head so I ran quickly to  my office and got a little battery box for the dildo and butt plug. A  few second to connect everything and she was buzzing away again. I'd  set the device to a level that I thought was close to her orgasm  point; it was possible she could get lucky and cum but restricted as  she was I doubted it. 
\par \tab "My friend is coming here slave," I said with maximum malice,  "If he even suspects that you are here I'll make you suffer."  
\par \tab Retrieving the remote I sat in a chair where I could see her  clearly, then I punched in some numbers and waited. The house has an  excellent surround sound system, over fifty compact speakers in  discrete places in all the main rooms. Sam had contacts in the music  industry and we had talked about hosting private concerts once we were  married. With this in mind I had extended the system installing a  number of mikes and a multitrack recorder so that I could record the  events for later enjoyment. When Sam had dumped me the system had  languished and the only use I'd made of it was during an impromptu  game of "blindman's buff" I'd hosted during the house warming party.  Still the success of that trick had inspired me to use it to test  Caroline. 
\par \tab Across the room came the sound of the door opening. 
\par \tab "Ah Bob," My disembodied voice said, "What can I do for you?"  
\par \tab "Sorry to trouble you Dick, but the portable printer I have  seems to be broken." Bob Cummings was perhaps my closest neighbor and  one of those people who are destined to be victims of technology. When  he had discovered that I was a computer columnist he had immediately  assumed that I would provide free technical support for his every  problem. I had recorded this incident a few weeks before when his  inkjet had run out of ink ("Oh, you mean I need to refill it??").  Since then I'd spent a couple of weekends making sure that it would  sound like a real live event to someone on the floor in Caroline's  position. The test was clear, she had been ordered not to draw  attention to herself, yet as far as she knew a total stranger had just  walked into the room. 
\par \tab I watched her as the conversation turned to printers and  refills. She moved occasionally, mainly thrusting her crotch in the  air, but it was unclear if her intention was to get off or get free.  In either case she made no obvious sounds. I began to wonder if she  had discovered the deception, but I couldn't see how. The floors were  concrete ensuring no conduction of footfalls and the sound quality was  excellent. I sat and watched her as she made small movements behind  the couch. This was not the thrashing and screaming I'd expected at  this point but by now the voices could be heard only faintly from one  of the other rooms. Several minutes passed then the conversation  reentered the room from my study with Bob asking about the list price  of my desktop printer ("I guess you don't know huh? I mean you  journo's get given this kind of thing...") 
\par \tab Phantom Bob was leaving, if she thought that there was any  possibly of rescue she would have to make the move soon. I held my  breath, waiting for the faint muffled scream the sudden thrashing of  limbs but it didn't come. The posture collar made head movement  impossible but with the little leg movement she had left she had  turned on her side to face the departing sound. Yet despite the fact  that "Phantom Bob" and I held a conversation just in front of the  couch behind which she was hidden and she must have known that her  gagged screams would carry at least that far; she made no attempt to  alert him to her presence. 
\par \tab Phantom Bob left and the recording ended. I went over to her  and removed the hog-tie and spreader. I didn't bother to hobble her as  high heeled boots are difficult enough to walk in. Attaching the leash  I lead her downstairs. I removed the posture collar and replaced it  with her usual one, removed the blindfold, then I removed the dildo  and butt plug along with the leather panties. She was as expected very  wet, and the slight moans that accompanied removal of the dildo seemed  to confirm that she had still been denied an orgasm. I removed the pad  gag and replaced the ballgag around her neck. 
\par \tab "Very good slave. As a reward for your obedience I will leave  you ungagged for the rest of the morning as long as you don't speak,  understand?" 
\par \tab She nodded her agreement. 
\par \tab Then I took her back to her cell fastened her hands in front  of her, with a chain to a ring on her collar ensuring that her crotch  was out of reach. Then I refastened her collar to the wire and told  her to get some sleep. She settled down happily, glad that the gag was  still around her neck and not in her mouth. 
\par \tab It was about twelve when I took her from the cell and back  into the dungeon. She started to ask questions so I regagged her, she  gave me a betrayed look but didn't kick up a fuss when I lead her to  the table. I did have some trouble when I strapped her down so I upped  the pressure. "Well well well Cunt. So this is a demonstration of the  of your obedience to your MASTER. All you are doing is making your  punishment far worse." She stopped struggling and looked at me with  big frightened eyes, I continued to tighten straps. I stood back and  surveyed my handiwork. Her gloved hands where cuffed above her head,  her collar fastened to the table. I had fastened her waist to the  frame of the table with a wide leather belt and had cuffed her ankles  to the two table legs. She was spread and vulnerable, her pussy on the  very edge of the table and at the perfect height for sex. She must  have realized this because she continued to struggle as best she could  as I went over to the basement room. There I collected a towel and a  basin I had brought from upstairs. Coming back to the table I put the  basin down next to her and reached inside. The gag barely muffled her  scream when I opened the straight razor in front of her. It was a  family heirloom left to me by some great uncle. He had apparently  taken it with him in his journeys around the world but I suspected  that he had never taken it where I was about to. 
\par \tab Gently I used the warm water to dampen the bush of fine brown  hair between her legs. She stiffened beginning to see what I had in  mind, I could see her pondering it. A minute ago she had been  convinced she was about to be raped, now she faced this which was in  many ways worse. I started to soap her crotch, being carefull not to  touch the bustier or the latex stockings. By the time I had brought  the blade near to her helpless body she had decided that she wanted no  part of it and started to squirm as best she could. 
\par \tab Holding the razor up menacingly I smiled. "I'd stop that if I  were you, this isn't the kind of place I'd like a nick." I played the  light reflecting from the blade across her face. 
\par \tab She froze, eyes firmly closed, breathing in short bursts, as  still as a statue as I shaved her pussy. I didn't completely denude  the area, I left a small oval patch just above her clit for decorative  purposes. I had to confess that I'd done a good job as I ran my  fingers over her smooth soft flesh. She groaned a little and I was  suddenly aware of my almost painful hard on. Reaching down I opened  her cunt lips and lowered by face onto her exposed clit. It would  appear that the shave had been stimulating to her also, for the little  nub was already engorged. Gently my tongue touched it, she heaved in a  huge gasping breath, her hips straining against the imprisoning belt.  I licked and a muffled groan issued from her gagged lips. I started in  earnest, each lick, nibble or suck accompanied by a gasp groan or  murmur from the far side of the table. I thrust my tongue deep in to  her, savoring her salty flavor mixed with the smell of the soap and  listening to her muffled whinnies as she went wild. I paused and  looked up, fingering her with my gloved hand as I watched her, tear- filled eyes closed, hard thrusting nipples, mouth straining against  the ball. I smiled, my slave on the brink of orgasm. She noticed the  drop in sensation and looked up. "Want me to fuck you Slave?" She  shook her head defiantly, I just fingered a little faster. One set of  her lips slid helplessly over the rubber ball, the others over my  leather fingers. Her breathing and moans came in staccato bursts and I  knew she was close, so I stopped. She squealed something and tried to  trust her hips up against my hand. Helpless, so close to cumming but  unable to stimulate herself that extra little bit, she thrashed  against her bonds. 
\par \tab "I'll only ask once more Slave. Do you want to be fucked?" Her  eyes were full of the terrible internal conflict, she so desperately  wanted to cum but the humiliation of her position, to have to beg her  rapist to fuck her...... I helped her out, I turned away. She gave a  muffled squeal and strained against the bonds, gloved hands and booted  ankles tugging in futile desparation, the fire in her crotch burning  away the last of her self respect. 
\par \tab I turned, "Well Slave?" She closed her eyes, and nodded. In  seconds I was in her, my shaft buried in her warm tight hole. As I  thrust her pussy started spasming, drawing me further inside, her  passion expressed as little gagged screams her body straining all the  time. Under any circumstances she would have been a good fuck, but  combined with her complete helplessness she turned me on more than any  woman in my life. All thoughts of Samantha were swept away as we came  together, her muffled scream filled the air as I pumped my load into  her. 
\par \tab I pulled out and cleaned us both up with the towel I'd brought  to dry her. She seemed quiet so I leaned over and removed her gag.  There was silence for a few minutes as I rehobbled her legs and  prepared to unstrap her from the table. 
\par \tab At last she spoke, "You raped me!" 
\par \tab "WE had sex," I corrected, "Rape implies lack of consent, YOU  asked me to fuck you twice and that nod wasn't my imagination either."  
\par \tab "I'm your prisoner, you would have done it to me anyway."  
\par \tab I smiled, "Be very careful what you say Cunt or you could make  life hard for yourself. Truth is that you wanted it so bad you begged  for it, and now that it's over you are horrified that you actually got  off on it so suddenly you are the poor victim again." 
\par \tab She was silent deep in thought as I eased her off the table  and fastened her hands behind her. I reached for the gag.  
\par \tab "Please don't," She smiled at me, a warm deep smile that  convinced me that I had chosen the right girl. "Please Master, I  thought we could talk for a while, if you explain what you want....."  
\par \tab "Humm, obviously you paid more attention to your psych  lectures than your grades suggest." She went pale. 
\par \tab She swallowed nervously. "Who are you?" She asked, "I never  said I was a psych major." 
\par \tab I smiled, happy at her discomfort. "I am your master," I said.  "I told you once before you are not a random choice. If you were then  the police would probably be looking for you now. As it is I moved you  out of your apartment, and left your back rent so that Mr. Philips  will be happy that you're gone and won't ask any questions."  
\par \tab I stepped back so she could see me counting things off on my  fingers. 
\par \tab "Lets see, I disposed of your car, YOU successfully got  yourself fired, Alice and Brenda are at that trade show in Chicago and  your mother complains that you never write regularly. Nobody knows you  are gone, no one will even notice that you are missing. Even assuming  that anyone reports you missing the police will think you left  yourself. There will be no rescue because no one cares that you're  gone." I saw her eyes fill with tears, "Lets face facts here, Caroline  Conway was an easy victim, but she doesn't exist anymore, all that's  left is a slave who doesn't know when to shut up." 
\par \tab "Please," She said her voice full of desperation, "You don't  have to gag me again. I hate it, I can't swallow properly and it  hurts. This place must be sound proof or you wouldn't have risked  leaving me ungagged earlier. You don't have to do it I'll be quiet I  promise." I smiled. "You misunderstand Cunt, you are gagged because I  want you gagged. You're right about the room being soundproofed, but  the real point here is that I own you. Whether you are, awake or  asleep, hot or cold, noisy or silent *I* decide. If you want to talk  to me, that is a privilege you earn through your obedience, not a  right. Property doesn't have rights slave I suggest you remember  that." I looked at the despair in her eyes as I pushed the bright red  ball between her teeth. Reaching behind her head I tightened the  strap. "Later today you'll get a chance to show your obedience slave,  If you follow orders you'll have a few hours ungagged, we'll talk  then." 
\par \tab My gloved thumb traced the line of her lips as they formed an  O around the ball. "There, that's MUCH better. Trust me slave in a few  years you'll feel uncomfortable when you're NOT wearing a gag." My  finger caught the single silent tear that ran down her cheek, she  sobbed as the full impact of her situation hit home. "Get use to the  idea slave, it isn't as bad as it first appears." I lead her back to  her cell, attached the wire to her collar and left her sobbing on the  bed. 
\par \tab Chapter 4: "A Timetable for Domination" 
\par \tab I went back upstairs and made myself a coffee, thinking of my  slave, of the plans I had made and of "Phantom Bob." As the scent of  warm Java spread about the kitchen I sat and reviewed the days events.  Months ago, when a real living and breathing Caroline was just a wet  dream, I had planned out the first few days with my new slave. I had  foreseen her fear, her anger and her attempts to escape. I had planned  for each in turn molding her reactions and my responses into a mental  document I called (with a typical writer's flare) "A Timetable for  Domination." It started with the preparation for the kidnapping ebbed  and flowed through the snatch and the training and the bondage and the  sex to a scene that was painted so vividly in my mind's eye that it  seemed almost real. 
\par \tab Slave and I would enter a fashionable New York night club  (dressed in tasteful fetishwear naturally). I would spy Samantha at  the bar and signaling Slave to come close (she always walks two steps  behind as a sign of respect for her master) I instruct her to seduce  Sam by any means possible. Slave (she hasn't answered to Caroline in  so long she doesn't even recognize the name) smiles and happily  complies, this is far from the worse thing I've ever asked her to do  and the thought of disobeying never crosses her carefully conditioned  mind. Later I would reveal myself to Sam forcing her to do unspeakable  humiliating things less I publish the photos of her lesbian fling. The  circle would be complete, capturing Caroline to enact my revenge on  Sam. Then using her to get that revenge. But of course that was  fantasy and reality wasn't proving to be that simple. 
\par \tab In my mental timetable things were certain and secure her  reactions easy to envisage. First would be denial, a refusal to face  up to the kidnapping and her new position as my sex slave. This sort  of thing wasn't supposed to happen to her! This happened to bad girls  who talked to strangers or accepted candy, or hitchhiked. She had  avoided everything that her mother had warned her about and yet she  was still bound and gagged, chained up in a guy's basement and forced  to do.... things. I'd figured this attitude would probably persist for  a few days then I expected her to redouble her attempts at escape.  Then slowly would come acceptance and a listless despair. Finally  under the strict domination and conditioning she would adapt and begin  to accept her new life as my slave. I firmly expecting to be able to  take her on our fated club date inside of two years. 
\par \tab Yet the "Phantom Bob incident had worried me. I wasn't stupid  I'd always realized that there would be a degree of variation in my  plans once there was a real woman in the equation but I'd been  surprised at how little trouble she's given me overall. She'd been  kidnapped less than twenty four hours, I'd expected more of a fight  until she accepted the hopelessness of her situation. That acceptance  was the first step towards truly breaking her. I'd wanted it to be  long and slow so that when it came the despair would be that much  greater. Yet whenever I pushed her she seemed to back down and like a  reed in the wind without resistance I couldn't break her.  
\par \tab I'd expected her to try and signal "Bob" had thrilled with the  thoughts of despair that would grip her when she failed and above all  had looked forward to punishing her disobedience. The dirty scheme  that had been festering in the back of my mind since I read her mail  that morning had started to pull together ideas and plans that I'd  reserved for later. The whole thing was just so obvious, so perfectly  simple and yet inescapable that I just had to do it, but for it to  work I needed an excuse to punish her. 
\par \tab Over the past few months I'd read a lot of bondage fiction.  Every time I stopped off in New York for dungeon supplies I'd included  a magazine or two and a few videos for "research" purposes. One of the  real dumb things that these stories tend to say is that there is  always a reason to punish the slave. "The slave is always guilty," is  a favorite line, written by a guy whose closest link with slavery is  the pittance he pays his models. In truth you should never punish the  slave for nothing, you are trying to impress your values on her, they  must always be consistent. Obedience means reward, even if the reward  is something she had as a right in her former life like spending time  ungagged. Disobedience means punishment, you can always substitute a  lesser punishment than the one you threaten and you can offer the  possibility of redemption or reduction in exchange for some service  but in general if she's bad she's punished. 
\par \tab The secret (if there is one) is to treat the slave as you  would a dog. Tell her she's a clever slave when she obeys and always  do something in recognition. Punish or withhold something when she's  bad, but only when she's bad. There are guys who beat their dogs  constantly, this results in nervous anxious dogs. Then there are guy's  who beat their women constantly and they have nervous anxious women.  Strangely it's rare for either dog or woman to run away from such  people, I still haven't figured out why. 
\par \tab In my case I needed an excuse to punish Caroline, any excuse  would have done but for whatever reason I needed her to know that  *SHE* was responsible . This could be no arbitrary action of mine she  must have done something to deserve it. It's a strangely human failing  that someone is more likely to do something they wouldn't ordinarily  do in order to make amends rather than to do you a favor. Right now I  needed her apprehensive and willing to please if my new plan was to  work. 
\par \tab I flicked on the video camera and watched as she lay on the  bed. I was again immediately hard and as I sat and drank the warm dark  liquid I got more and more excited until in the end I was forced to  shut down the monitor and think of other things, like photography.  
\par \tab One of the fringe benefits of living with an editor at Vogue  is your access to models, designers and photographers. One of the few  people I met through Sam who I really liked was a talented fashion  photographer called Andy Pearson. Most people probably haven't even  heard of him but if you have ever glanced at the cover of a fashion  magazine while waiting in line at the checkout chances are you've seen  his work. Andy is a guy's guy, a big brash New Zealander who came to  New York via the far east and a large chunk of Europe. He is also one  of that growing club of Sam's cast offs. In fact it was he who helped  me pick up the pieces after the wedding was canceled. I really don't  know how I could have managed without his help and in the process he  became my best friend. If Andy is a great guy he's a brilliant  photographer. With seeming ease he juggles the twenty or so variables  necessary to make a good photo, great. His pictures make his models  beautiful and show off the clothes to maximum effect. A classic  "Pearson" has a spontaneity about it that makes a carefully posed  piece look like the kind of shot you would take of your girlfriend on  an outing (well it *would* be if you were a top photographer, and she  was a supermodel). What he does he does so well that at least one  magazine calls the cover photo, which is of course the most important  in any issue, the "Pearson shot". I've seen him coax fantastic poses  out of young girls just starting in the business then slap down a  "difficult" supermodel in successive breaths. He moves, molds and  commands women in a way that few BDSM doms could even hope to match.  
\par \tab In the way friends do we started to take interest in each  others work. Through him my interest in photography expanded. I have  always prided myself that I am a good photographer, and as my friends  have married I have had enough invites "suggesting" that I might bring  a camera to confirm this. Andy however transformed that. He has a love  for the technology of photography and as time went on I taught him how  to use computers and he taught me the tricks of the pro's. The fusion  of our skills produced something that little bit different and was  exactly what I would need if my plan was to succeed. 
\par \tab For my plan needed photos, some the cheery snapshots to send  to the Conway's, some more hardcore. Some would have to look *very*  professional, some like they were taken by a talentless hack. With all  the complexity for a second I considered giving Andy a call and asking  his advice. Trouble was that he loved this kind of stuff and if he  could I just knew he would invite himself over. So in the end I  consulted the local yellow pages and found a list of photo suppliers  in the nearest town. I would have to use what he taught me and just  wing the rest. 
\par \tab I ate a light lunch, one of those pizza bag things that I'd  bought with the idea of eating cold on the road. Needless to say it  was disappointing but I suppose it hit the spot. I checked on  Caroline, who was still sobbing on the bed, then locked up and went to  the garage. Inside was a large Chevy van that I'd bought because my  main car, a 1958 Triumph TR2, doesn't have much carrying space. The  van was a sort of half conversion, it was carpeted and had a couple of  captain's chairs but with the exception of a largish bench seat on one  side everything was removable for maximum cargo capacity. I backed  out, careful to miss both the roadster and the big old car I'd used  for the kidnapping. I looked upon it with some regret, it was a large  powerful landboat that had been a pleasure to drive but my safety came  first. I had already made arrangements to scrap the car and intended  to watch it being crushed so that I was sure that the evidence was  destroyed. For now I locked up the garage and headed for town.  
\par \tab The first two photography stores I tried were closed, New  England not being as good for Sunday shoppers as some places. The next  had nothing that I needed and I was starting to regret not calling  around first. However eventually, late in the afternoon, I found  somewhere that could supply at least my basic needs. I spent about two  hundred dollars mainly on film and paper and got a referral to another  shop which catered to the local pro photographic circuit. The rest  would have to wait until tomorrow though I had a hunch that I would  have plenty of time. A quick detour to one of those DIY warehouses got  me all the other things I needed. 
\par \tab I arrived home with some apprehension half expecting a police  car in the drive. Of course it wasn't there, the house was undisturbed  and a quick check on my guest confirmed that she was ok and was even  managing an afternoon nap. I put on another pot of coffee and started  in earnest. I refrigerated the film and prepped a camera then took off  downstairs to ready the "studio". 
\par \tab I worked most of the afternoon putting up shower curtains and  dustsheets to disguise the dungeon walls and cover the furniture. I  set up lights and placed a camera on a tripod in preparation. Finally  at about 7PM I was ready for my model. 
\par \tab She awoke as I came into the room and said something behind  the gag. I freed her from the wire, and checked her bonds, giving her  time to get frustrated before removing the muzzle. She wanted to know  what was going on, why I'd left her, what would happen next. I was  starting to wish I could keep her gagged but the plan required that  she should be able to speak so without answering anything I took her  back into the dungeon. She blinked as we stepped through the doors,  the lights in her room automatically dim to a level that lets the  surveillance cameras work but allows her to sleep. Stepping from that  twilight into the glare of the photofloods caught her off balance.  
\par \tab "Master, what's all this for?" 
\par \tab "For you slave," I answered innocently, "We're going to take a  few pictures." 
\par \tab I watched her swallow, her eyes panned around the room to the  small table I'd set up near the camera. I'd put an array of vibrators,  dildos and floggers out for her inspection, it didn't take a genius to  figure out what kind of pictures these were to be. "No," She said, "I  can't." 
\par \tab "*I* slave? I thought we had this discussion last night," I  said starting to up the pressure. 
\par \tab She paused, her brain going through the mental gymnastics  necessary to convert the sentence into a more acceptable form, when  she finally spoke I had to admit she'd done a pretty good job.  
\par \tab "Master, your slave, she really can't..... Please." 
\par \tab "*MY* slave can and will do what I order her to," I said  deliberately pouring as much menace as I could into my voice. "She's a  slut whore, she likes doing slut whore kinds of things. Right now all  this whore wants to do is jam this dildo up her crack while I take  pictures. Isn't that true slut?" Her eyes filled with tears,  "Please......" I pulled her close and stuck two fingers in her cunt,  with her hands still cuffed behind her there was little she could do.  
\par \tab "Isn't that true!" 
\par \tab She nodded wordlessly, my other hand started to massage one of  her latex covered tits and was surprised to find the nipple already  hard. 
\par \tab "Why don't you say it slut." 
\par \tab "Your slave..." 
\par \tab "NO!" I shouted, "Say this whore." 
\par \tab "The..the..this whore...." 
\par \tab ".....Wants to jam this rubber fuck toy up her crack until she  cums." 
\par \tab "Wha..." 
\par \tab "...Wants to do this 'cos she's a cheap painted slut. Who  needs to fuck. Anything will do as long as there's a tool inside her."  
\par \tab She stood there, mouth working silently, tears once again in  full flow. I continued to massage cunt and tit. 
\par \tab "Does that feel good slave," I asked watching the confusion on  her face, "You know why don't you? It's because you're a whore, you  like being used by men don't you?" 
\par \tab Still silence. 
\par \tab "You wanted to know why I took you? It's because the first  time I saw you I thought, now there goes one hot little slut I'll bet  she fucks like a train." My hands continued but this wasn't a gentle  teasing, this was an all out degrading grope. I pulled her close while  burying more of my gloved fingers in her wet pussy. 
\par \tab "I noticed the way you suck whore. You may be a parson's  daughter but you ain't no choir girl. Now tell me, did you get that  good playing nurse with the local farm boys or did you have an evening  job I didn't know about?" 
\par \tab I watched her intently, there still wasn't the reaction I'd  expected, she cried, she whimpered but she didn't fight back. I needed  a method to push this further but I couldn't think of a suitable way.  
\par \tab "Say it!" I hissed, "Tell me that you are a cheap slut."  
\par \tab "I..I'm a chea...." 
\par \tab "This whore!!" 
\par \tab "Th...is whore...." 
\par \tab "Sexy slave, say it sexy! I want you to pant in out like a  bitch in heat! I want you to sound like the filthy little tart you  really are." I grabbed a huge black rubber dildo from the table and  waved it in front of her startled eyes. 
\par \tab "Beg me for it slave! Nice and sexy I want you to tell me what  a worthless whore you are, and how you'll do anything to have this up  your crack." 
\par \tab She started, stammering to fit all I'd wanted into the  sentence, tears in full flow. Disappointed I decided to let her finish  and snap a few photo's for the collection in any case. Now her eye's  were adjusted to the light she had started to scan the dungeon. Most  was covered with dust cloths to hide it's true nature all except for  one corner which I'd been deliberately set dressing so it looked more  like dungeons in TV shows. By that I mean that I'd fastened bits and  pieces of bondage paraphernalia to the gridwork on the wall. There  were leather masks, gags, hoods, cuffs and harnesses all strapped to  the wall in a hap hazard fashion. Caroline's eyes flickered from one  to the other deducing each time what they were used for and realizing  with certainty that they had been bought to use on her. Finally her  eyes had rested on one harness arrangement that I'd bought on the spur  of the moment just before I'd gone to pick her up. 
\par \tab I must confess to always liking the idea of girl on girl  action. One of the contingency's that had worked it's way into the  "timetable" prior to the kidnapping had been the idea of the capture  being discovered by another girl, perhaps a coworker, and my having to  overpower and take her too so that she couldn't identify me. It was in  truth a fantasy, a wet dream, I cared too much for life and liberty to  have risked a casual discovery. Yet the fantasy had been so strong  that I'd even taken along an extra cuff and gag set just in case. It  had also caused me to buy this item on impulse. The owner of the sex  shop had called it a "Lezbo Harness", simply this is a very long dildo  fastened to a pair of strap on leather panties. One half of the dildo  goes in one girl and she uses the second half to fuck a friend and all  the rocking back and forth brings them both off. Lot's of people  wouldn't recognize one if they saw it, but the strange look on  Caroline's face told me she knew exactly what it was. I didn't know  what the story was but I could tell she didn't like it. Her  concentration was broken and she stammered to a halt. 
\par \tab And in that second I had an inspiration. 
\par \tab "Pathetic slave," I said forcing my face close to hers, " I  hope your sister is better." 
\par \tab "M..my sister?" 
\par \tab "Yes, Anna isn't it?" I asked cooly, "Quite a well developed  girl for sixteen. She's obviously a little whore as well. When I found  out about her I got to thinking what a wonderful matched set you two  would make. Anna looks like a goer, I bought that harness today so  that I could see just how you two would do together. You know sisterly  love and all that" 
\par \tab She looked stunned, shaken, I pressed my advantage. 
\par \tab "I know where she lives, know where she goes to school. Being  a farm girl you must know just how quiet the country is, how many  lonely places she must walk through every day. Compared to you she'll  be easy. Were you comfortable in my trunk? She's got further to travel  than you have so if you have any suggestions on how we can make her  more comfortable do speak up." 
\par \tab Caroline went white, I continued to fondle her. "Just imagine  how ironic it will be that the first your parents will know about your  disappearance is when they try to tell you that I've kidnapped your  sister." I smiled and made a dismissive gesture, "You know I think  you're right, we'll hold off on these photo's until Anna gets here." I  snapped my fingers (not easy when you're wearing gloves), " I know,  we'll send a couple of prints to your mother, a momento to console her  in this time of loss!" By now I was in a really evil frame of mind.  "How about the two of you bound and gagged to the wall.... Better yet  she's bound and gagged and you are eating out her pussy.... NO! of  course, she's bound and gagged wearing the harness, you're kneeling  bound and gagged in front of her and she's reaming your ass out!"  
\par \tab I leered at her, "Has to be one for the album. Eh slave?" By  now her tears where in full flow and through the hand I had buried in  her pussy I felt her body tremble. "NO!" She screamed and kicked me  knocking herself off balance and teetering on the tall stiletto heels.  She would have fallen but for the hand I had inside her. Sure it was  painful, but the hobble was still in place and so the kick was no real  power. She caught her breath almost immediately, a look of horror  spreading across her face as she realized the enormity of what she'd  just done. She now knew that I could be brutal if pushed and that look  told me that she'd remembered the incident with the gag that morning.  "Please.... I'... this whore... is sorry." She must have seen the  anger in my eyes. "Please master......this whor..re will obey. Please  don't hurt me!" I dragged her towards the cell, she hesitated, her  position was helpless, she couldn't resist and if she tried she risked  further punishment. Yet part of her mind told her that if she was lead  back to that cell she would have no way to defuse the situation. She  sort of half fought as I returned her to the cell and reattached the  wire to her collar. She begged, pleaded and wept as I filled a plastic  beaker with water and brought it over. She was in full panic offering  herself, any photo I wanted, anything at all, because she said she'd  remembered that the penalty for attacking me was disfigurement and the  incident with the gag this morning had convinced her that I would  carry through. 
\par \tab Now it was my turn to be shocked. My mind flashed back through  everything I had told her about Rule 1 and the cost of disobedience. I  could remember telling her something about threatening my safety but  by that I'd meant trying to escape or seriously hurt me. Knocks and  kicks I'd expected in the early days which was one of the reasons for  the hobble. Somehow in her terror she'd misunderstood. She was heading  towards hysteria and I almost considered correcting her but then she  was rapidly approaching the frame of mind I would need for the plan.  In the end I got her to drink then offered the ball to her. She wanted  to talk, to plicate while there was still time but she also knew the  penalty for refusing the gag. Terrified she opened her mouth and I  gagged her fastening the strap a little tighter than was strictly  necessary to reinforce my "anger". The moment I let go she rubbed her  gagged mouth against my arm, making little noises, begging wordlessly  for it's removal. I rechecked her bonds and made to leave she  continued to whine, eyes huge, imploring. 
\par \tab I looked down on her, "Sleep slave," I said, "Don't worry  about the punishment, it will come soon enough." 
\par \tab Then without looking back, I left securing the door behind me;  and breathing a huge sigh of relief. It had taken a lot of effort but  finally I had her where I needed her. Alone in her cell her mind was  already magnifying her crime and it's imagined punishments. By  tomorrow she would be ready. 
\par \tab I worked on until about ten, mainly doing preparatory desktop  publishing work upstairs. Like all writers I've built up a hoard of  unused material against the day when tight schedules or the dreaded  writers block would leave me without copy. The kidnapping had been in  the planning stages for several months and during that time I'd been  collecting idea's and information in a similar way. I had a collection  of things I'd intended to send to the Conways to make them believe  Caroline was elsewhere. One of these, a holdout I'd only intended to  use if they seemed to be going to the police, now had a more cunning  use that would hopefully ensure that they would never know their  daughter was missing. Finishing up I visited the cell before going to  bed. The cameras were well hidden and there was some benefit in making  her believe that I needed to check on her personally . The tight gag  was giving her trouble so after giving her another drink (during which  she was warned not to speak), I refastened it in a loose hap hazard  kind of way. Again she rubbed her mouth against me and again I refused  to ungag her and talk. I left and went to bed. 
\par \tab Next morning I was up bright and early. A quick camera check  showed her asleep in her cell. During the night she'd managed to work  the gag off, not a difficult task as the ball can be rolled over the  lower jaw even when the strap is quite tight. Tutting to myself I  collected the post and answered my Email. 
\par \tab I headed down to the dungeon. I'd done a lot of preparation  work already, it's transformation into an impromptu photographic  studio was almost completed and with the exception of some more  equipment my primary need was for a little attitude adjustment for my  principle model. 
\par \tab I paused to collect some things from the cabinet and to lower  one of the pulleys attached to the ceiling. I'd intended this rig to  be used for a really big punishment and had everything necessary to  suspend my slave several feet above the ground. For now however all I  needed to do was keep her uncomfortable. 
\par \tab She woke with a start as I entered the room. 
\par \tab "What's the meaning of this slave?" 
\par \tab "Meaning?" 
\par \tab She was obviously a little slow in the mornings. I waved the  ball under her nose. 
\par \tab "I left you gagged slave, I expect to find you gagged when I  return is that clear?" 
\par \tab She nodded silently. 
\par \tab "I left it loose last night so that you could sleep easier and  you repay my kindness like this!" 
\par \tab "It hurt...." 
\par \tab "I know lots of other things that hurt slave," I said  menacingly, "As you'll discover later." \
\
\tab "Master please, I didn't mean to kick you!" 
\par \tab "I'd thought it over last night and I *WAS* thinking of giving  you a break...." 
\par \tab "Oh yes, please master." 
\par \tab "Then I find you've disobeyed me again." 
\par \tab She looked downhearted. I was generally pleased, she was  starting to call me master with none of the self-conscious hesitation  that had troubled her the day before. For the time being I was letting  up on her use of *I* but when *MASTER* became totally natural to her I  would insist that she call herself *SLAVE* to emphasize our relative  positions and the name Caroline would begin to be wiped from her mind.  For the time being I gave her a drink then freed her hands.  
\par \tab "Loose the top," I said. 
\par \tab For a second or two she seemed confused. Then realizing, she  slipped her way out of the tight latex bustier, letting her breasts  swing free. She was about to remove the latex stockings but I stopped  her. Instead I had her tighten the little draw strings in the tops  that held them up without the garters. I think she was in a dilemma,  happy to be out of the sweaty rubber she had worn for nearly two days  but apprehensive that her torso was now naked. I had her use the  toilet then fastened her hands, gagged her and lead her into the  dungeon. 
\par \tab I'd left a pile of straps and rods on the table and the look  on her face told me that she didn't know what they were. The look of  fear told me that she didn't want to find out. Amongst the pile the  only obvious things were the snap on leather panties, butt plug and  vibrator. Remembering the day before she gave me no trouble, spreading  her legs when asked, in return I paid more attention to her pussy than  was strictly necessary to lubricate the vibrator. A couple of snaps  later and the tight leather panties held both intruders firmly in  place. The vibration levels where set high enough to keep her occupied  but not quite enough for her to get off. Still she had started an  involuntary squirming by the time I got to the next item. For this I  laid her on the floor then started by tying one of her ankles to one  of the rods that formed the strange apparatus. I think at first she  thought it was a standard spreader bar despite it's length. She only  started to see the truth when I tied the other end along her opposing  thigh rather than the ankle. I roped the end to her leg just below the  knee then used another line to tie the ankles together. It's  complicated to explain but in essence I had tied her in the standard  "kneeling to propose" stance. One high heeled boot was planted flat on  the ground, leg rising vertically to the knee which was bent. Along  the thigh of this leg a rod was tied and it's far end attached to the  other ankle. The other leg rested on it's knee unbound until the ankle  was tied to the rod. A cord between vertical ankle and horizontal  ankle held her legs in a rigid triangle. 
\par \tab She realized immediately that this was very uncomfortable and  tried to struggle into a better position but of course there wasn't  one. I removed collar and gag, she knew better than complain guessing  that this was one of the punishments I'd promised. I gathered her hair  back into a ponytail to keep it out of the way then started fitting  her with a head harness. First up was the gag, a large dense sponge  ball attached to a strap. She gave me no trouble, opening up as it  approached. I stuffed the rubber into her open mouth then tightened  the chin strap, this ball wasn't slipping out. It took a while to fit  everything but when finished a nest of straps covered her head in such  a way as to hold the ball in her mouth and then clamp her jaw closed  around it. As an experiment I seized one of her nipples and squeezed  hard, almost no sound emerged from behind the straps though her tear  filled eyes where full of pain. The harness was obviously too  complicated to fit quickly but if I ever needed to transport her any  distance this would keep her quiet enough to hide almost anywhere. In  addition to the gag the harness had several mountings for other things  like additional blindfolds, but two large buckles at the back were  designed for attaching to a special posture collar. The collar was  fitted to a rod which in turn snapped into the rod used to secure the  legs. Fastening harness to collar, and collar to rod held the head  firmly in place and meant that any tension in the head harness was  transmitted directly to the rods and not the wearer. This was needed  because the harness had a suspension loop on the top of the head. I  attached this to the pulley in the ceiling then pulled everything  tight. As an afterthought I used some spare cord to tie her wrists and  elbows to the vertical rod then stood back and viewed my handiwork.  
\par \tab She rested fitfully, all her weight on one high heeled foot  and one knee, tied into a rigid triangle. Her gloved arms were pulled  back along the supporting rod, dragging shoulders back and thrusting  naked breasts outwards. It was a tight uncomfortable position but very  little complaint could emerge from her well packed mouth. In fact as  she stood there and the little beads of sweat broke out across her  exposed skin the most prominent sound came from the vibrator, pressed  hard against the taught leather panties and using them as a sounding  board. The bondage seemed to have robbed her even of control of her  internal muscles, for despite the dribble of juices that had started  down her leg and the tiny almost negligible thrusting of her pelvis,  the vibrator did none of the ins and outs of the day before.  
\par \tab I left her like that for a few minutes then added the  blindfold and a pair of earplugs. Alone in her sensory deprivation  with only the pain for company I left her to contemplate the cost of  disobedience. 
\par \tab I busied myself cleaning the cell and changing the toilet,  once I paused briefly and ran my gloved palm over the hard nub of one  of her erect nipples. I thought I heard a sigh, though her gag was so  tight that seems unlikely, in any case her fingers flexed briefly in  response, that being the only movement she could make. For a while I  just sat and watched her as the droplets of sweat rolled over the  uncovered portion of her torso. I became aware of the tiny gasps and  moans that escaped her mouth, sound that would have been screams and  groans but for the gag. For I was in no doubt that she was in agony,  the human body is designed to move and we twist and turn even in  sleep, to be held so rigidly in one position starts out uncomfortable  and rapidly becomes torture. Almost all of her weight was on one heel  and one knee, her shoulders pulled painfully back. Deaf and dumb,  blind and bound her only active senses where filled by pain.  
\par \tab I paused a moment, then went upstairs and called the  photography shop I'd been referred to the day before, placing an order  for immediate pickup. Then I started into breakfast. Usually I'm a  cereal man, the day is too short to waste cooking breakfast, but on  this occasion I started into a full spread including pancakes and  syrup. As I poured a fresh coffee I was for some reason reminded of  the "Phantom Bob" episode of the day before. Puzzled I walked over to  the large couch and pulled it away from the wall. Here was the spot  where Caroline had laid during the recording, her position marked by  the tiny depressions made by her stiletto heels in the new carpet. Out  of curiosity I put down the cup, picked up the remote and lay as she  had. I punched in the code and closed my eyes using only the sound and  feel as a guide. The recording was perfect, I lay there until the  toast started to burn but could find not one thing wrong. I got up  even more confused yet the truth was the truth, she had been given a  chance to escape but had decided to obey me, her kidnapper, her rapist  instead. 
\par \tab I made breakfast, eggs, sausage, bacon, toast with pancakes  and syrup and a new mug of coffee. Putting everything on a tray I  headed down to the dungeon. I knew that she could smell the food,  though of course she could give no physical indication in her current  condition. I busied myself preparing table and chair then went over to  her. It had been about an hour since I'd left her but it was clear  that it had been long enough. I released the pulley then freed her  legs but left her hands bound to the vertical rod and the head harness  in place. I helped her up, it took a couple of minutes before she  could stand unaided, then I led her to the table. Still staggering a  little and of course still blindfolded she needed my help for support  and guidance her naked torso pressed against mine, and suddenly I was  hard again. 
\par \tab When we reached the table I sat down first dragging her on to  my lap careful to avoid the trailing bar. I looked at her. The harness  framed her pretty face with black leather with only the gag and  blindfold intruding on her features. Her mouth was clamped firmly  around the ball, lips wide, frozen in silent exclamation, her stifled  tears flowed behind the mask of the blindfold and ran down the  contours of her cheek. Gently I reached up and unsnapped the blindfold  from it's fastenings, she blinked as sight was restored and her red  eyes fought to focus. 
\par \tab "Glad you could join me slave," I said courteously. The collar  prevented head movement so she bent over slightly to see the contents  of the tray. She said something too faint and muffled to make out but  then her stomach growled so loud it shocked us both. I reached up and  massaged an exposed breast, she tried to pull back but was too  restricted. In the end she just sat stiffly to attention as I ran my  gloved hand over her breasts across her tight stomach and down between  her legs. The vibrator was still hard at it and I could feel her ass  wiggle in unison with the butt plug so I left them in place and  instead massaged the inside of her thigh. Only the subtle change in  her breathing betrayed what was going on inside her bound body.  
\par \tab Satisfied I started into breakfast. I think I'd managed my  third mouthful by the time she realized the gag was staying in and  that none of the meal was for her. Still tightly bound and gagged  there was little she could do but sit and watch as I wolfed it down. I  deliberately ignored her small movements, her only other option was to  kick me and that is what had got her into this mess in the first  place. Frustrated she watched me eat until only the pancakes were  left. I waved a fork full across her face just to get her reaction. I  deliberately didn't finish but instead turned to her. 
\par \tab "Didn't think I'd forgotten did you slave?" She of course had  no way to answer. I picked up the little jug of syrup and very slowly  dribbled some on to her exposed breasts. It was cold, she jumped a  little, but in the end she had two little streams of brown running  down her chest and over the hard brown buds of her nipples. I started  to lick it off. At first I think she was outraged to be denied food  then used as a plate. Yet as I pressed on she became visibly aroused,  closing her eyes and arching her back even more than it was already.  She was panting and just a little flushed when I got the last drop.  She was so distracted I don't think she saw the blindfold in my hand  until it was snapped in place. I lead her back to the rest of the  apparatus and started to reapply it, I think she was tempted to  struggle but realized it was useless. In five minutes she was back on  one leg and the torture began afresh. 
\par \tab I went back upstairs then headed to town for my supplies. I  made a significant purchase, enough to get the attention of the  manager. We chatted and I fed him a line about being a keen amateur  wanting to branch out into the pro circuit. As I suspected he had  connections with several local modeling agencies and he kept small  portfolios so that photographers could choose their models. I went  through the books picking models that could pass for Caroline at  varying distances and noting their details. One girl in particular  caught my eye, her name was Vicky and with the exception of her hair  color she matched Caroline in build and looks. I took careful notes  then collected my supplies and returned home.  
\par \tab Chapter 5: "The Pearson Shot" 
\par \tab Caroline was unsurprisingly exactly where I'd left her. She  had been in the same position for nearly ninety minutes and was  obviously suffering. I released her legs and then carried her back to  the cell. Once there I stripped off the boots and stockings and gently  massaged her legs until I was sure she was ok. She was still gagged  with the harness and her arms were still tied to the rod. I went and  collected some cotton rope and a few other things from the cabinet. On  returning I replaced the boots locking them back in place with the  simple fixings attached to the zippers. The stockings I left off  because to be honest they badly needed cleaning. 
\par \tab I liked Caroline's naked body but gloves and high heels make a  lot of sense as a slave uniform. For starters they stop the bonds  chafing wrists and ankles and thus make the slave more comfortable.  Both are additional bonds; high heels make an excellent hobble and the  glove's reduce the finger's tactile sense and dexterity which is  always useful. In addition the gloves also mean that you don't need to  worry about your slave leaving fingerprints lying around. If for  example I was burgled and the police dusted for prints I wouldn't have  to explain why those of a missing coed were in my house. 
\par \tab And of course they look sexy. 
\par \tab I used the cord to tie Caroline's legs together making tight  cuffs of rope around her ankles and above and below her knees. In all  cases I clinched the cord tightly to ensure she couldn't move. Next  after warnings about talking I removed the harness and replaced her  collar. She wiggled a bit as I removed the earplugs but then waited  patiently as I released her wrists. She looked up with large doe eyes,  the image of a disgraced sheepdog. I threw her a large sponge ball.  
\par \tab "Gag yourself." 
\par \tab She picked up the ball and looked at it doubtfully. 
\par \tab "You removed the last one without permission, from now on  you're responsible for being gagged. You'll put it in and you'll  ensure it stays there! You have thirty seconds or you have another  punishment session." 
\par \tab Argument was useless and she'd been ordered to keep quiet. She  paused for only a second then did something she had never done in her  life before, with hands trembling she started to cram the hard sponge  ball into her mouth. It proved to be quite a struggle as the ball was  the largest I had. Finally however it was firmly in place a large  phosphorescent yellow mass completely filling her mouth. I wondered  for a moment if the people at Nerf had ever thought of marketing their  product for this use then I casually tossed her a long length of white  cotton cloth. "Tie it in place, good and tight." With my encouragement  she placed the cloth band between her teeth and pulled it tight. I got  her to tighten it until her cheeks bulged over the white cotton band  and the horrid yellow ball was completely covered then I had her knot  it firmly behind her head. Finally I tied her gloved arms as I had her  legs and stood back to admire the view. 
\par \tab Call me old fashioned but there is something about a girl tied  with rope that always reminds me of Saturday morning serials. Modern  restraints are good, I couldn't hope to keep Caroline as secure as I  do without them, but they lack a certain spontaneity. In the old  serials the young heroine would stumble on the villain's plan and end  up tied with rope and gagged with a handkerchief struggling on the  floor. Rope and cloth are common, you could imagine the villain  digging some up on the spur of the moment but ballgags, cuffs and the  like aren't the sorts of things you find just lying about. So Caroline  lay struggling like the Republic heroines of a bygone age, the  difference being that "King of the Rocket Men" was not about to save  her. 
\par \tab Rather than fasten the wire to her collar I decided to try  another device. I stroked her exposed breasts listening to the renewed  moans from behind her gag. When each nipple was good and hard I  fastened a little clamp on it and tightened it with a small hex  wrench. Once in place the clamp could only be removed with the tool. A  chain was attached to the clamps and this I fastened to the bed frame.  She watched silently the message clear, to keep her nipples intact she  would have to lie quietly on the bed. 
\par \tab "These are only temporary," I said reassuringly as I wiggled  the chain. "They'll do until I can have you pierced." Her eye's  flashed open in shock and a startled sound erupted from her gagged  mouth. 
\par \tab "Well, I told you the consequences of attacking me," I said,  "I'm thinking of a little gold ring for each nipple and maybe one for  your nose." She shook her head and made muffled sounds. For the first  time since she got here she really struggled against her bonds, but  the ropes held firm. I ignored her but reached down between her legs.  "Maybe a couple down here," I said slipping my hand inside the  panties. She looked horrified at the prospect. I smiled sweetly and  cranked the vibrator up a notch. 
\par \tab "Have fun!" I said and left bolting the door behind me.  
\par \tab By now I was sure she was almost ready, she was tired, hungry  and very frightened. Further she knew that she needed to get back in  my good books as soon as she could if she was to avoid mutilation. I  let her stew a while longer and prepared a light meal. As I ate I went  through the list of models I'd compiled. There was quite some variety  ranging from obvious professionals to girls who only worked part time  for the local agencies spending their days serving behind shop  counters or in restaurants. Vicky, the girl I'd initially selected,  had been in what the manager had called his "Blue book" which was  apparently for girls who didn't go through an agency. I had mixed  feelings about this, on the one hand I wanted as little record of our  relationship as possible but at the same time I needed her to be  professional. Too much time can be wasted with an inexperienced model.  In the end I risked it and gave her a call. I got her machine meaning  she probably had a day job so I left the barest details and asked that  she call me back. Then I pressed on with the plan. I found Caroline's  makeup box amongst the things I'd taken from her apartment. For a girl  who sold makeup she had a surprisingly limited range. Fortunately  Samantha had left a lot of things behind when she moved out. An  assistant editor at Vogue must receive a lot of free makeup samples  because even the small box she had forgotten was packed to the brim  with lipsticks, blushers and eye makeup. Sam had also left behind one  of the dresses I'd bought her, a black silky evening dress whose only  crime was not coming from a major designer. I moved them downstairs to  the dungeon and added some things from the wardrobe. Recovering the  leather blindfold and the crop I returned to the cell and removed the  nipple clamps and the bindings for her legs. Her nips were still red  and engorged and obviously very sensitive. I pulled her body over mine  and placed one hand on her breast as I removed the panties. I ran my  hand over her nipple and made some comment about silver being perhaps  a better match for her complexion. She lay helpless in my arms weakly  shaking her head and attempted to speak, her eyes large and  frightened. 
\par \tab I looked down at her. "Your choice," I said, "The nipples or  the photo's." A look of relief spread across her face. 
\par \tab "You must realize slave that in order to account for your  actions yesterday there will be a penalty to pay. We will be taking a  lot more photo's than we would have had you behaved and they will be a  lot more explicit." She looked at the floor for a second weighing up  her alternatives then she looked up and nodded eagerly. "You must  follow my orders exactly, quickly and the best you can understand?"  Again the nod. "If I feel that you aren't giving me what I want then  the deals off." She nodded again. " IF I tell you to smile while  fucking a pig, you'll smile big and bright as if you really enjoy it  or tomorrow we fit you for a little extra jewelry, understand?" Her  eyes had bulged a little at the mention of a pig, but she still nodded  with vigorous energy. 
\par \tab After removing vibrator and buttplug I replaced the cloth with  her usual ballgag. I did it myself as I didn't want to untie her but I  made it clear that I would still hold her responsible for presence of  the gag then I fastened a leash to her collar. Reaching down I fitted  the hobble on her ankles and covered her large questioning eyes with  the blindfold. Then I led her upstairs. Once in the house I took her  up to a bathroom on the second floor where I removed the blindfold,  boots and hobble and helped her into the bath. Near the shower head  was a D ring set in the ceiling nominally used to hold up a shower  rack. With the rack removed the true purpose was apparent and I locked  her leash to it. She watched as I started to undress, getting her  first real look at my naked body. I'm not a big man, certainly not by  porn film standards but I'd been ignoring this erection for the better  part of two days. Now with the proximity of her helpless naked body it  came back with a vengeance. Her eyes bulged as it slapped against my  leg, I tried desperately to imaging people gutting fish (an old trick  my father told me to rapidly get out of the mood). Then I stepped in  behind her. For the first time in out relationship she was wearing  more than I was though I think the irony of this was lost on her. I  turned on the water letting it play over her head and down the flanks  of her body. The light here was better than in the dungeon and I could  clearly make out last summers bikini line. Almost as expected she  wasn't radical in her choice of swimwear and there were large areas  that had never seen sunlight. I left her for a moment letting the  water do it's work. Then I picked up a bottle of shampoo and started  to massage it into her thick mane of blond hair. My fingers worked  into her scalp in gentle smooth caresses.... 
\par \tab Years ago when I was a student there had been a barbers shop  just off campus called Al's. Al had started the place back in '46 when  he'd finally been let out of the army. For thirty years Al's had 2  barbers chairs and 4 seats in the waiting room and in all that time  he'd never been overcrowded. Then in the summer of '78 he'd taken on a  girl called Maria to wash hair for him. Maria was some relative from a  distant part of Al's huge Italian family wanting a little vacation  money. She also knew the secret of washing hair. She did it slow in  gentle sweeps punctuated by heavy washing, massaging the scalp with  long strong sensitive fingers... 
\par \tab For the first time in thirty years Al's had to take bookings,  with his usual style Al bowed to the inevitable and bought another  chair in the waiting room. Maria proved very popular with the male  students and was invited to all the best campus parties for the rest  of the year... 
\par \tab And Caroline, bound and gagged in my bathroom was now  benefiting from Maria's legacy, eyes closed, she moaned softly, as I  shampooed her hair. We rinsed, rewashed and conditioned, and I began  to feel the tension leaching from my slaves body. Right now her  captivity was forgotten, lost in a primal grooming ritual that was  already hardening her nipples. Then I moved on to the rest of her,  spreading fragrant shower gel on my hands and massaging it into her  soft flesh. Her small noises and the pattern of her breathing told me  of her enjoyment as I soaped her firm pert breasts. She had been  encased in sweaty rubber for the last few days and before that was the  trip here in my trunk now she was enjoying the sensation of being  clean again. I pulled her closer letting my hands follow the trim  contours of her athletic body. Suddenly I felt her gloved hand slide  over my cock and balls. I stiffened, thinking this was an attack but  instead her strong latex covered fingers started to play up and down  my shaft. I'd clinched her wrists so tightly that her hands were  effectively one unit. If she was playing with the head she was limited  to the shaft for the other hand but closer to the base she teased my  balls with deft flicks of her gloved fingertips. In response my hands  moved down into the silky smooth folds of her womanhood, feeling the  heat building there. She looked up at me with those large doe like,  need filled eyes, making little noises behind her gag, rubbing her wet  slippery body against mine. Begging for release, begging for...  
\par \tab But from the back of my mind came a little voice telling me  that she was playing me for a sap, thinking she could buy me off with  a body I already owned. Soon other voices chimed in reminding me that  she'd had something throbbing away in her holes for the best part of a  day. Sure she's horny, it said, and we can USE than. 
\par \tab So I pushed her away and continued to rub her down all the  while trying to imagine people gutting fish. 
\par \tab As slowly and erotically as I could I dried her and powdered  her naked body. Styling her hair more difficult but in the end I had  her rich golden hair pinned up high on her head in the elegant  slightly conservative look that I needed. All this time she gave me no  trouble and even when I replaced the boots, hobble and blindfold she  seemed content to let me manage her. It was clear she was taking our  deal really seriously and didn't want to risk screwing it up.  
\par \tab I lead her back to the dungeon and locked the iron door behind  me, before attaching the collar to a ceiling ring near the table and  removing everything but the collar. 
\par \tab I slapped the crop on the table top next to a small pile of  leather clothing. 
\par \tab "Put them on slut." 
\par \tab "Yes Master." She was meek, enthusiastic and willing to  please, in fact willing to do anything but face the alternative. The  outfit consisted of a soft leather strapless corset and matching  briefs, a pair of normal patent high heeled pumps, a pair of silk  stockings and a pair of black leather opera gloves. She seemed almost  happy as she put them on. She had intended to finish with the gloves  but I stopped her, hobbled her ankles and chained the collar to the  table. Next I brought out the makeup. 
\par \tab "Ok slave make yourself pretty." 
\par \tab She looked confused, "But Master these aren't my colors..."  
\par \tab "They are now. Do it slave or maybe a flogging will persuade  you?" 
\par \tab She started, a little hesitantly at first and I had to point  out what colors to use, but in the end she looked radiant confirming  everything I had seen in her that first day. I had her put on the  gloves, she frowned a little when she discovered that the top three  inches seemed stiff but when I tapped the crop she speedily put them  on. I had to remove the collar before I helped her into the black  evening gown. She was obviously confused wondering just why I would  want to dress her in this way. Her ankles where still fastened to the  chair but with the collar gone this was the closest she'd been to  freedom since I took her. I started to change that. First up were the  cuffs, thin silver bands about an inch and a half wide that looked  just like the kind of bracelets some women wear over long gloves on  social occasions. These however were the product of a fetish jeweler  in San Francisco, once closed a special tool was needed to remove  them. In addition each had a tiny D ring set into the underside,  though small they could support a persons full weight. For the time  being I fastened them with a cable tie. Next I squeezed the tops of  the gloves and felt them ratchet down until they were tightly gripping  her upper arms. Each had a small black D ring in it that I joined with  a thin black wire effectively pinning her arms to her side. I added a  thin black choker, again from a distance a fashion accessory but  hiding a thin leather collar, the silver clasp really a small strong  padlock. I freed her wrists then refastened them with more wire.  
\par \tab Finally she spoke, "You're tying me so that no one can tell  from a distance." Her voice was flat and calm like someone discussing  a science experiment. 
\par \tab I was unfastening her ankles from the chair, "Very good  slave," I said. 
\par \tab "No gag?" She asked raising an eyebrow. 
\par \tab "I don't think it would go with the ensemble, do you?"  
\par \tab I handed her a small black leather clutch purse, it was  difficult to hold with her hands bound like that but somehow we  managed. I positioned her in front of a black drape and took my first  shots. She looked poised and elegant, a young professional woman on  her way to a show or to a fancy party. She could have been a lawyer, a  doctor or a young executive. In fact she was a slave her bonds  invisible to a casual observer. I felt the strange little thrill of  knowing something others don't. The bonds though elaborate were never  really intended to be used in this way. I've always liked the idea of  secret bondage in public places. In a year or so when Caroline was  fully my slave I intended to use them to have bondage sex in a box at  the Metropolitan Opera. For now they were just to remind her of her  status as my slave . 
\par \tab When I felt she had started to relax a little I moved her in  front of one of the covered walls and used a thin black wire to secure  the back of her collar to a strategic ring. Then I freed her arms,  took a couple more shots then reached back and picked out a bottle of  Champaign. This was part of a case Sam and I had picked up in Paris  during the fall fashion shows last year. I had intended to use it for  the toast at our wedding. Now I would use it to Christen my slave.  
\par \tab I uncorked the bottle (never pop it, that would be vulgar)  then handed her a Champagne flute. 
\par \tab I started to fill her glass. 
\par \tab "Master, what is this for?" 
\par \tab "For you slave," I said, "To celebrate your capture."  
\par \tab I could tell that this wasn't a celebration she was keen on.  
\par \tab "I can't," she said. 
\par \tab "Nonsense, this is your Capture Day party. You get it only  once a year like your birthday. Play your cards right and in future  years you'll even get presents" She seemed surprised by the mention of  presents but the idea that it was an annual event rammed home the fact  that her captivity was permanent. 
\par \tab "But Master I don't drink." 
\par \tab "Yes you do, " I said lightly. 
\par \tab "I don't....." she began 
\par \tab "Slave you really don't get it do you?" I said, "You drink,  smoke pot, molest little children and fuck animals. You'll do what I  say, when I say it. What Caroline Conway did or didn't do is of no  interest to me or my slave. Now drink up." 
\par \tab She drank. I had her smile as seductively as possible as she  brought the glass to her lips. Click! Had her tongue the glass  suggestively her bright red lips framing the action. Click!  
\par \tab I had her down two glasses of the Champaign in rapid  succession knowing that it would hit her empty stomach and head  straight into her bloodstream. I had her fling her skirt around a  little, taking a couple of fast shots while I waited for the alcohol  to take effect. Not drunk but with her inhibitions starting to be  suppressed she was ready to go further. 
\par \tab I took a couple more, of her holding the purse, of her  presenting the back of a gloved hand to the camera. Then I gave her a  second glass. Caroline holding a glass to her breast, eyes large,  suggestive, she offers the other to the camera. Click! I took a couple  more then offered her the bottle. Caroline refilling a glass. Click!.  
\par \tab From then on I made her go steady, as I didn't want her sick  or unconscious. Her pupils were large and she'd giggle and tell me how  nice I was compared with some of the maniacs she'd heard of. She even  asked if she got to choose what her Capture Day presents were.  Realizing she had no real tolerance for alcohol and was rapidly  getting very drunk I said nothing and just kept taking photo's.  \tab Caroline, highheeled foot up high on a table pulling back the  skirt to reveal her stocking tops. Click. I told her to loose the  dress which she managed surprisingly quickly. I gave her back the  glass and took another of her holding it to her leather covered breast  as a companion piece to the earlier shot. 
\par \tab Adjusting the lights I pulled away and took a longshot.  Caroline stood as I told her, with one leg slightly bent, patent heels  shown to maximum effect, then the long majestic line of her silken  legs. The stockings, a designer pair with a monogrammed patterned top,  ended in garters about four inches below her crotch. From then on up  it was all black leather. The briefs, a tiny black triangle which  would have barely covered the thatch of her crotch hair (if she'd had  any), were so tight that you could easily make out the outline of her  pussy lips in their shiny surface. Yet these were nothing compared  with the corset. Tight and black it hugged her body like a second skin  from the bottom where it's garters held up the stockings to the top  where it's soft underwired cups shoved her breasts up but barely  covered her nipples. The slick black gloves flowed up her arms,  leather fingers caressing a wine glass with obvious suggestions. Black  gloved hand raising the glass to those fabulous cherry lips. Click! A  fetish goddess in all her finery, her orientation ill defined, which  is how I wanted it. I took another couple of quick snaps then tossed  her a crop. Suddenly she was a leather Dom. I had her flex the crop  and look menacing, had her slap it against her hand, along her thigh.  Then I had her ditch it and threw her a ballgag, taking a whole series  of her gagging her own sweet mouth. I was pleased to see that the  lipstick I'd chosen matched the color of the ball exactly. More shots  of her handcuffing herself and she was suddenly a leatherclad slave  girl. I had her kneel and look up beseechingly feeling all the time  the heat in my crotch. Keeping her hands cuffed I removed the gag,  adjusted the tripod down to her level and undid my fly. My erection  almost slapped her in the face. I had her give it a sexy, hungry look  then use her talented mouth on it while the motorwind kept the shots  coming. Suddenly I exploded into her mouth. Somehow in the ecstasy I'd  managed to pull out freezing my erect cock, her rapt face and the  small trickle of cum down the side of her mouth forever on film.  
\par \tab I gave her the last of the Champagne to wash it down then  freed her hands. I could tell she was very hot so I decided to do  something about it. I pressed the top of the empty bottle against the  tight leather panties and wiggled it back and forth a little. She  looked at me doe eyed, the idea of what I wanted invading her drunken  mind. She shook her head silently. 
\par \tab "Fair enough slave," I said, "But in ten minutes you'll be  tied in that cell and in no position to do anything about this." I  rubbed her damp pussy through the leather pants, she gasped. She  looked at me, I nodded at a mat on the floor. In the end her needs  overcame her, she lay, tore off the panties and started; first  fingering and then at my insistence using the neck of the bottle. I  wondered what Sam would think of our wedding wine being used like  this, but it was only a passing thought. I kept taking photo's and  suggesting combinations all the time wishing I had a video camera.  
\par \tab At length I stopped her, she resisted a little and pouted.  
\par \tab "You promised!" 
\par \tab "Don't worry slave," I said rolling her onto her stomach so  that I could strap her hands together, "I'll see to you personally!"  
\par \tab Did I detect a little shiver of anticipation? In any case she  gave me no more trouble as I bound her arms and replaced the ballgag  and hobble. She seemed a little confused when after snapping some  shots of her standing I came over and released her hair from the pins  that held it up. It cascaded in rich golden blond curls around her  shoulders and it's wonderful aroma flew up to greet me. If the change  of hairstyle confused her it was nothing compared to what happened  next. Over her face but under her hair I fastened a soft leather mask.  It took some adjustment but once in place the effect was outstanding.  The mask covered her face from the hairline to her cheeks in a smooth  expanse of black leather leaving only the area around her mouth and  her large expressive eyes uncovered. Framed by the canopy of her blond  hair and matching the rest of her leather ensemble it transformed  Caroline into a sexy bondage mystery model. She seemed a little  surprised but gave me no trouble as we reproduced some of the earlier  shots with a small handheld camera. I finished off with one of  Caroline on her back, the wine bottle cruelly inserted in her sopping  pussy. 
\par \tab Then as I promised I took her, pounding away at her soft  flesh, driving deeper into her hot pussy to the accompaniment of her  husky moans and the squeak of leather. Unlike last time she was  desperate and almost willing. There was no suggestion of a struggle  and I knew this time she would not argue, in as much as a slave can  consent to anything this was consentual. Sam had always liked to be on  top claiming that it gave her more sensation. I didn't like it that  much but it did seem to do something for her. Now I changed our  relative positions lying on my back and positioning her on top. Her  arms were bound but she had strong legs and arching her back she came  down on me again and again screaming into the gag with every thrust. I  knew I was close but she had been a good girl who though she didn't  know it yet had just delivered her sweet ass into my hands. I felt I  owed her something. So the images of fish gutting returned holding off  my final explosion just a little longer, allowing her to cum in a  climax so violent that her bonds struggled to contained it, and her  gag barely muffled it. When we had finished she tried to say something  behind the gag then almost immediately fell fast asleep as if only the  sexual frustration had kept her conscious. I gently removed the gag  and replaced her own collar. Then I carried her sleeping form back to  the cell and reattached the wire. She looked so content as she lay  there newly washed blond hair framing her masked face that something  gripped me and I found myself kissing those soft lips in a moment of  weakness that could only be the wine. 
\par \tab The warm after sex glow consumed me and suddenly I wanted to  sleep. Yet somehow I managed to fight it because I had to know how the  photo's had come out. Brewing up enough coffee to keep half of  Colombia awake I started in the darkroom. 
\par \tab The pictures were good. Most had been posed to match the  desktop publishing work I'd already done and as a result to my  critical eye lacked a certain spontaneity. These I left to dry as I  worked on the other prints. Part way through I stopped and went  upstairs for more coffee and to microwave a snack. Whilst I was  waiting I scanned one of the masked Caroline photo's. Part one of the  plan went into effect. Firing up the computer I used a free trial  account from a well known commercial service to telnet a university  computer in Scotland. I then used a bug in the old copy of VMS it ran  to give me superuser privileges. The machine was one of the primary  internet routers for northern Europe and it proved easy to fake a  message that would appear to come from Caroline's university account.  I posted the picture to an internet sex group via an anonymous server.  Next I sent a covering message telling those interested that my name  was Elizabeth (Caroline's middle name) and my interests included kinky  clothes and bondage. I was new to the internet I said, and wasn't sure  if this would work but if it did more would follow. I also hinted that  Elizabeth would be willing to pose for money and had photosets for  sale. It took a while to clean up the various security logs and shut  down but it was worth it. Anyone looking into Caroline's disappearance  would have to conclude that she was really desperate for money and  would do almost anything to get it. 
\par \tab It was early the next morning before I found what I wanted.  The photo at first sight looked like any of the others I'd taken.  Caroline looked out at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of despair  and great need. A silent solitary tear streamed down her smooth cheek  towards her stoppered mouth which almost blended perfectly with its  color coordinated ballgag. Her full, shiny, red lips wrapped around  the ball and the black leather strap cut into the corners of her  mouth. She had been bent at such an angle that her nipples peeped  slightly over the soft leather cups and the straps binding her arms  helplessly behind her were just visible. I looked at the eyes again  and saw the beginnings of an acceptance of her fate. This I knew was  the one. It would never grace the cover of Vogue and would remain  forever on the wall of the dungeon, but though unseen it's quality and  life marked it apart. There could be no doubt, this was the Pearson  Shot. 
\par \tab Chapter 6: "Paper Chains" 
\par \tab When the alarm went off the next morning I felt compelled to  get "medieval with it's ass". Yesterday had been too long, my physical  and mental exertions with Caroline too intense (and the wine too  potent) for me to get up just yet. So I drifted in that strange  twilight between sleep and reality and started to dream.........  
\par \tab I woke with a start, cold but sweating. Scared, confused, I  had the weird feeling that I'd just had a bad dream,. Since childhood  I'd been unable to remember my dreams, even the nightmares. I racked  my brain but it was gone, leaving a creepy feeling behind. My shaking  hand found the remote and turned on the TV. I punched up Caroline's  cell my half conscious mind afraid of what I might find there. Much to  my relief she was as I had left her. She was still dressed in the  leather lingerie, still masked with her hands strapped behind her. I  watch uneasily, looking for an indication that something might be  wrong but she slept deeply even snoring a little and after a few  minutes I accepted that she was OK. 
\par \tab I did a quick personal audit. I was thirsty, the taste in my  mouth and the suggestion of a headache convinced me that I'd had far  too much wine. I stumbled to the bathroom and stuck my head under the  cold tap for a full minute. After the first thirty seconds I even  remembered to turn it on. 
\par \tab I've never been an excessive drinker, I am what is best  described as a "depressed drunk" beyond a certain point I'm no longer  having fun. Still I'd never had the shakes before, and though I could  rationalize the incident as a combination of bad booze and bad  conscience it had left me with an uneasy feeling that I was missing  something important.                  
\par \tab I popped an aspirin and a couple of vitamin pills. Before  taking a particularly long shower. I dressed and though still a little  woolly remembered to get Caroline's pills from the bathroom before  heading downstairs. I wrapped the pills in tissue paper and placed  them in my pocket. Then I padded into the kitchen and started making  breakfast. While I was waiting for the coffee I punched up Caroline's  cell again. She lay on her side, her mouth slightly open and she was  drooling a little as she slept. It looked as if I wasn't the only one  who would wake up with a headache. 
\par \tab I watched her as she slept. Just last week she had been  struggling to make enough money to save her apartment. Now she was  dressed like a whore, tied up in some guy's basement. I wondered what  her dreams were like? One thing was clear, the "honeymoon" was over,  the breaking of Caroline was about to begin. 
\par \tab So far it had been a promising start. After three days of  captivity Caroline seemed to be adjusting well. I was especially  pleased with her obedience. Not only was she less trouble than I  expected but it seemed to take a lot to make her disobey me. She was  learning very fast, her use of the words MASTER and SLAVE was far  beyond what I expected at this stage and the adjusting of her  sentences to avoid the personal pronoun was well underway.  
\par \tab As a cock slut she was exceptional, and though I could take no  credit for her technique I was more than happy with her obedience and  enthusiasm. Now I needed to push things further, towards my goal of a  completely submissive and obedient slave. Although I wanted to  accelerate matters, I wouldn't take things too fast. I still needed to  watch her despair as I robbed her of her identity and destroyed her  independance. The first part of the great game was now ready.  
\par \tab The first step was to destroy that one tiny flicker of hope,  the possibility of rescue and to make things even better she would  help me! 
\par \tab Sipping my first coffee of the day and with breakfast well  underway I headed downstairs. Slipping into the darkroom I recovered  the photos. I'd had rather more wine than I'd intended and though I  hadn't been drunk I was a little concerned that I'd processed the  films before I had a clear head. I'd half expected to find everything  ruined but in fact I'd done a pretty good job. Photos of Caroline hung  from all of my drying lines. Caroline as young professional on her  night out, Caroline as slut, Caroline as sexy mistress, Caroline as  leather slave.... 
\par \tab I selected the best ones then went back upstairs. A quick look  at the cell showed her still asleep so after checking the progress of  the toast I went to my office. Probably the best part of computer  journalism is the access to new and interesting equipment.  Manufacturers are well aware that the endorsement of a well known  columnist can boost sales significantly. One of my editors has eight  computers at home only one of which he actually paid for (and that was  at a substantial discount). Over the years my stated interest in  graphics had resulted in a variety of equipment, most of it state of  the art at the time. My current scanner is on long term loan from a  major Japanese company. A 48bit color drum scanner with a clever  sheetfeed mechanism and a ten thousand dollar price tag. It was  intended for publishing and photo process houses but it was also  perfect for my needs. I loaded the pictures into the sheetfeed and  setup the computer to dump each successive scan into a working  directory on my network. I hit start and the machine sprang to life  weaving the invisible chains that would tie Caroline to me forever.  
\par \tab I took breakfast in my office surrounded by the material from  Caroline's box. For now I set the diaries aside and concentrated on  her recent mail and the letters she'd stuck to her refrigerator door.  Almost immediately I got a real find, an unposted begging letter home  to mommy. No real news just brief and to the point "wire money or I'll  be evicted." The writing was very neat especially considering the  difficulty of the subject. As a hunch I sifted through the box looking  for the pad and envelopes that matched the letter. Opening the pad I  found I'd hit paydirt. Caroline seemed to work by writing a rough  draft first then copying the final version out neatly. She left the  originals in the pad, giving me names addresses and a basic  understanding of her writing style. 
\par \tab Just then I saw a slight movement on the monitor. I realized  she would be awake soon. I'd been deliberately keeping her hungry  since the kicking incident, still she'd been a good girl in the photo  session last night so I figured I owed her breakfast. 
\par \tab Returning to the kitchen I started into making a smaller  version of what I'd just eaten all the time watching the monitor. The  food was almost finished when I started to see the first real signs of  life from my slave. I went to the closet and pulled out a couple of  those Styrofoam coolers you get at gas stations. I've often wondered  why it is that no matter how much you spend on a cooler you always  forget it when you really need one. I must have five or six of the  disposable kind which I keep siting around "just in case" and yet I  always forget them too. However for once they were proving useful as I  loaded foil covered plates into them. I made a flask of strong, sweet  coffee then headed into the dungeon. 
\par \tab The room was still decked out as a photographic studio. Drapes  covered the furniture and the rings and other restraining points on  the walls were covered by blue shower curtains. Soon I'd have to rip  it all down but first........ 
\par \tab I poured some sweet coffee from the thermos into a plastic cup  and headed for the cell. Caroline was awake and trying to swing her  legs over the end of the bed. Her groans told me that the hangover was  just starting. I put the cup down and helped her upright.  
\par \tab "Feeling a little fragile?" I asked. 
\par \tab "Urggg," She said, which seemed quite apt at the time.  
\par \tab I put the coffee cup to her lips and she drank greedily. I  stopped short of letting her finish it all and set the cup aside.  
\par \tab With some effort, as her legs were a little unsteady, I helped  her over to the toilet. On the way we passed the mirror (not glass  obviously) that I'd screwed to the wall. She caught sight of her  masked reflection and paused for a moment as if mesmerized. I looked  but could not see what fascinated her, in the end a slap on her bare  buttocks persuaded her to hurry along. 
\par \tab There is a certain humiliation value associated with watching  someone use the toilet. She squatted over the pan really wanting me to  go away. I just smiled sweetly and watched what she was doing with  great intensity. Worse was to come as she couldn't clean herself with  her hands still bound. Though ungagged she had some difficulty asking  for my help. While she figured it out I retrieved the coffee and took  the pills out of my pocket. I didn't let her see them until they were  under her nose. 
\par \tab "Take these." 
\par \tab "W...what are they?" 
\par \tab "What are they MASTER!" I corrected, "In answer to your  question, they are aspirin for the headache." 
\par \tab She seemed unconvinced. 
\par \tab "Look slave if I wanted to poison or drug you I could do it  anytime. Now, do you want them or not?" 
\par \tab She opened her mouth and I popped them inside using the  remainder of the coffee to wash them down. It was only a little lie,  one was an aspirin, the other was a contraceptive pill, one of which  would form part of her daily diet from now on. Then while she was  still thinking how to ask, I stripped off a glove, bent her over and  cleaned her up. 
\par \tab She blushed as we reentered the "studio", memories of last  night still obviously fresh in her mind. I had her sit on one of the  covered tables as I replaced her shoes with her usual high heeled  boots. A butterfly vibrator held in place by a pair of snap on panties  (to wake her up a little quicker) and she was almost ready to start  the day. 
\par \tab I pulled her head forward so that I could get at the buckle of  the leather mask and found her strangely resistive. 
\par \tab "Please master..." 
\par \tab "You like the mask slave?" 
\par \tab She nodded and looked down avoiding my eyes. 
\par \tab "Why slave?" I asked genuinely puzzled. 
\par \tab She remained silent kicking her heels against the leg of the  table like a shy schoolgirl. 
\par \tab "Answer slave!" I said pressing on her crotch and increasing  the butterfly's stimulation of her bare clit. She gasped and shuddered  a little. 
\par \tab "Please master..... It makes me...feel sexy." She seem  embarrassed I was sure that there was a blush hiding behind that mask.  
\par \tab " Not good enough slave, but I'll do you a deal. You can keep  it IF you can give me a good psychological analysis of why you need  it." 
\par \tab Her shocked eyes peered out from behind the soft leather.  
\par \tab "Well slave? You were a psych major, you should be able to  give me a good technical answer." Her eyes filled with conflicting  emotions, her mouth worked silently. She wasn't an accomplished liar,  I'm sure I would have come up with some bullshit in her position and  it was obvious that the anonymity the mask offered some attraction to  her, perhaps a way that Caroline the reverend's daughter could  distance herself from the slut I was turning her into. Yet I also  felt, as I watched the struggle behind those pretty blue eyes, that  this was an ancient demon she was fighting, not one that had surfaced  in the past few days, traumatic as they were. In the end she didn't  speak so I removed the mask and pulled her over to a chair.  
\par \tab I retrieved some rope and a collection of other bondage bits  from the cabinet and returned. quickly retying her wrists and body to  the chair frame. I increased the number of ropes until I had what I  needed. Caroline the Republic heroine was back, though in far kinkier  underwear than was usual in the thirties. Bound to a chair in the  villains hideout she struggles against her tight bonds. Of course some  things had to go. Her collar and the remaining bondage jewelry was  replaced by a simple costume necklace and earring set that were more  in period. Reloading the camera and quickly positioning the lights I  started to snap away. 
\par \tab The first couple of shots I had her smile at the camera as I  took her from several different angles. She looked great. Her blond  hair fell on her naked shoulders and framed her face. Her arms were  visible, bound to her sides by rope wrapped tightly around her body  and the back of the chair. Her wrists were bound with cord to the  chair's underframe leaving her gloved hands in plain view. One set of  ropes pushed her tits up firmly against the cups of the leather  corset. Her long legs had to be pulled back quite a way so that I  could tie her booted ankles to the legs of the chair. This exposed the  creamy white surface of her uncovered thighs framed as they were by  the stocking tops and leather garters. This also seemed to push the  butterfly harder into her clit for after a few minutes her eyes rolled  back and she groaned loudly. 
\par \tab I gagged her, brain and heart in bitter conflict. I had  originally intended to just tie a cloth loosely over her mouth in the  unconvincing way seen in many films. Yet my master's pride couldn't  bear the idea of a photo of a slave of mine with such an obvious fake.  So in the end I compromised. I stuffed a sponge ball into her mouth  and duct taped it firmly in place. I used the white tape (I have every  color) and after tying the cloth tightly over the tape it was  impossible to see. I took my shots. Caroline still looked like a  Republic heroine, gagged in a stupid movie way but when I looked at  the photos I would know that she had been firmly silenced up to my  usual standards. 
\par \tab Next I untied her from the chair and removed the boots. I tied  her arms and legs as I had the day before, clinched rope around ankles  and knees with a matching set for wrist and elbows. I wrapped some  more rope above and bellow her leather covered tits to bind her arms  behind her before removing the gag. I'd found before that kneeling she  was at a perfect height to service my engorged cock which was by now  pressing painfully against my leather pants. Without saying a word I  unzipped my fly and shoved my dick into her face. In three days  Caroline had already accepted her role as my cockslut, no other  commands were necessary. She licked and sucked, teased and tormented  as I started knotting the length of cloth. When I seized her head she  finished me off, deepthroating and sucking with the same wonderful  mind numbing intensity she had shown the first time. One thing seemed  clear, one day I had to find the guy who taught her this trick and  thank him personally. I came and came, noticing in a strange detached  way that she swallowed every drop. Sam, though she gave great head,  would always spit it out afterwards which had left me feeling dirty  and awkward. Caroline swallowed it greedily and I realized that my cum  was the closest thing Caroline had to a meal in the past few days.  
\par \tab Pushing her head back I forced the knotted part of the cloth  into her open mouth using the tail ends to tie it tightly in place.  Then I ordered her to smile, hard with her mouth gagged so tightly but  not impossible. I took smiling shots of her kneeling and sitting down  then I had her struggle in as many differing positions as I could  think of. I finished off the film with her screaming into the gag, her  face contorted and mouth straining against the cloth muzzle. She was  left panting on the floor, I waited until she had recovered her breath  and then picked her up and took her to the table. 
\par \tab I sat her down and she waited quietly, bound legs tucked  gracefully under the seat of the chair while I unpacked the food. I  sat her on my knee as I had the day before but this time I pulled the  gag from her mouth and started to feed her by hand as you would a  favorite pet. This was probably not lost on her, but by now she was so  hungry that she would accept even this indignity. 
\par \tab We finished with pancakes and syrup which she seemed to really  enjoy After the pancakes I had her lick the syrup from my gloved  fingers Then I picked up the gag and forced the knots back behind her  teeth, before tightening the knot behind her head. She gave me her  "Bambi in the headlights" look and chewed on the gag as she tried to  say something. I smiled then pulled her tits free of the restraining  leather. As before I spread a little syrup in her nipples and began to  lick and suck it off. She moaned and more muffled sound emerged from  her gagged mouth though it was unclear if she wanted me to stop or  wanted more. Her nips however had no doubts, standing out hard and  firm as my tongue danced over them. It was time to up the stimulation  a little so I started to press the butterfly against her clit feeling  her body stiffen and tremble. 
\par \tab More unintelligible sounds erupted and she started to rub her  gagged mouth against me as she had done the day before. Without  breaking my rhythm I reached up and pulled the knot free. For a few  seconds she just gasped and then she panted out, "Please..".  
\par \tab I stopped and looked up, her face was flushed, her breath came  in sort pants. She was attempting to avoid my gaze but I brought my  fingers to her chin and eased her head back until her eyes met mine.  
\par \tab "Please what," I asked, "Please stop, please continue, what?"  She didn't say anything. Every other time I'd fucked her she'd been  gagged and all I'd ever heard was her muffled cries. This time I meant  to know if they were of agony or ecstasy. 
\par \tab Her eyes were full of doubt and some strange kind of fear but  above all need. That need shone out from behind those embarrassed blue  eyes and finally her mouth echoed them "P..Please fuck me master! ...  The.... this whore needs to be fucked!" 
\par \tab I smiled, now I had my answer but I intended to play a while  longer. I bent down and licked again, enough to ensure she was kept on  the brink but no more. 
\par \tab "Please master......." 
\par \tab "Want to cum slave?" 
\par \tab She nodded silently, I pressed the butterfly a little harder  smiling at her startled gasp. 
\par \tab "Well slave if you want it you're going to have to do  something for me." 
\par \tab She glanced down at my crotch, it was obvious from her  expression that she felt she'd done enough already, that the blow job  was payment for bringing her off. I just smiled. 
\par \tab The idea had formed in an instant. If she wanted this orgasm,  and I could tell that she did, I wanted something personal in  exchange. I wanted her first sexual encounter to be described in  graphic and lurid detail. I would link that first time, good bad or  indifferent, with her begging her kidnapper to fuck her. This was an  act of violation as real as anything physical I could do to her. My  mouth watered with anticipation. 
\par \tab "I'm going to ask you a few questions slave. Answer them for  me and I'll see you right." She looked into my eyes. By now she was  panting she was so close, she just nodded and looked away.  \tab "How old were you when you had your first fuck." She  hesitated, I had no way to verify her answers but I was betting that  she would have difficulty lying effectively while she was this turned  on. I began to stroke her, upping the general tactile stimulus while  keeping her erogenous zones as they were. My hand moved quickly over  the leather of her panties and came to rest on the inside of her thigh  which I gently caressed. 
\par \tab "Six....sixteen." She panted. I let my hand stray a little  closer to the buzzing butterfly. 
\par \tab "Did you have an orgasm?" She shook her head and moaned. Right  now all she wanted to do was cum. Still this was interesting  information. She was almost nineteen now, so the next question was  obvious. 
\par \tab "How many orgasms have you had slave, approximately?"  
\par \tab To be honest I really didn't want to know the answer. I  suppose I saw this as just another embarrassing question, a stepping  stone before I forced from her the story of her first clumsy fling  with some farm boy. So when she answered it came as quite a shock.  \
\
\tab "F..ff four or five," She gasped. 
\par \tab That was low, I'd expected at least a dozen in nearly three  years and there was always masturbation. 
\par \tab "How many did you have before you came here?" The question  popped out without me thinking about it. I had also started to  unconsciously fondle her again and she was now very close.  \tab "Twice...." She shuddered as she said it, drawing her breath  in explosive bursts. 
\par \tab "Who was your first," I demanded realizing that I didn't have  a lot of time. 
\par \tab She stammered, gasped and trembled. 
\par \tab "You will tell me slave!" 
\par \tab She didn't answer so I reduced the stimulus. She felt the wave  of the orgasm dying. "Please..." 
\par \tab "I need an answer cunt," I said viciously. "No answer and I  know a horny little slut who's going to be very disappointed."  
\par \tab Her hips moved up suddenly as she tried to brush her crotch  against my departing fingers. She whimpered and pleaded but the orgasm  died. I made it clear that all I needed was a name. In her position I  would have lied but she just sat there and cried. In the end I got fed  up of the noise and gagged her, refastened her collar and went to the  wardrobe. 
\par \tab As much I liked Caroline in strict bondage, I had always known  that I couldn't keep her like that forever. She would need at least  some freedom of movement if she was to stay healthy. This left me with  a problem not so much of security (locked in a soundproof cell she was  equally helpless bound or not) but of ownership. She was mine, mind  and body. Bound as she had been the past few days Caroline hadn't  really had much chance to fuck herself. Now I intended to enforce my  ownership of her sex with leather and steel. 
\par \tab Chastity belts are usually large clumsy things with huge  menacing locks and countless straps. Part of this is for effect, like  having a large heavy door, and part of it is the "one size fits all"  mentality of the ready to wear suit. 
\par \tab By contrast Caroline's device was made to measure. It essence  it was really a pair of heavy gauge leather panties that was fastened  to the waist with a narrow leather belt. The sections of leather near  the base of the hips had been modified so that a drawstring would pull  them tight around the wearer's thighs in a similar way to plastic  diapers. A formed plastic section rested on the hips and made a dome  over the wearer's pubic area so that the victim could not bring  herself off by rubbing the panties against herself. 
\par \tab As an extra touch the designer had covered the plastic former  with the same leather as the rest of the pants and had added an  indentation that suggested pussy lips. 
\par \tab Once on they looked like a large pair of leather briefs pulled  tight over a woman's hole. The victim however could not gain access to  her clit for stimulation and as an added bonus a thin brush attached  to the indent on the inside would prove maddening as it teased the  clit just enough to keep the victim frustrated. There was a stiff  matching corset which of course denighed access to the breasts. Once  on it looked like a soft corset with the woman's nips pressed hard  against the leather but as with the pants the "nipples" were parts of  a plastic former used to isolate the breasts. 
\par \tab I fastened her collar to one of the vertical chains and had  her strip to her gloves and heels. I had to slap her with the crop a  few times as her hands drifted downwards. She removed the butterfly  like she was loosing an old friend. I was tightening the second  drawstring when she realized what was going on but by then it was too  late. The belt snapped firmly in place around her waist and it was  over. 
\par \tab I left her for a few moments watching her deft leather covered  fingers as they probed poked and shoved but it was to no avail. She  soon found that she could not move the former and the drawstrings at  her thighs prevented her from working her fingers between the plastic  and her body. I decided that the design was quite successful though it  was still obvious that the former was not her real mound. Still now  that I had her I could make the necessary measurements to get even  tighter ones made. The designer had even provided instructions for  making casts of the necessary areas. 
\par \tab By now Caroline had realized that it was futile. She gave a  strangled, frustrated moan behind her gag, stamped her booted foot and  then turned to look at me accusingly. 
\par \tab "When you are prepared to tell me what I want to know I'll see  that you'll be all right." 
\par \tab Surprisingly she gave me no trouble with the corset and once  it was locked in place and it's garters attached to her stockings I  stepped back and looked at her. In truth she looked not much different  that she had before, she was still the leather angel of my fantasies.  Yet I had now taken ownership of her tits and cunt. She was a sexless  neuter without me and any sexual pleasure she would feel from now on  would be by my command. 
\par \tab While she was mourning I threw her the cuffs. 
\par \tab "Put them on slave," I said, "It's time to put you away."  
\par \tab She complied, what else could she do? I also had her change  the cloth for a leather pad gag to match the outfit. Then I attached  her right wrist to the belt of the chastity pants but kept her left  hand free. 
\par \tab I took her to the cell and refastened her collar, hobbled her  legs and locked the gag in place. Her left hand still rubbed  mournfully at the smooth carapace covering her crotch so I decided to  give it something to do. 
\par \tab I went to the cupboard and removed some books before returning  to the cell. I threw one to her. It was a spiral bound group of papers  I had culled from the internet and extensively edited. I called it the  "Slaves Handbook" and it detailed general concepts and the duties of a  slave. On the cover were the words, "This material will be tested and  wrong answers punished." She saw this and looked doe eyed at me.  
\par \tab "I expect you to know all of it, understand?" 
\par \tab She nodded. 
\par \tab "If you have time read this." I threw her a copy of "The Joy  of Sex". 
\par \tab She tried to say something. 
\par \tab "Read it! You are a sex slave now. All I want you for, all you  need to be good at is in these two books. Your life is in these pages  so read them real carefully. Otherwise I may have to replace you." I  stuck enough menace in those words to convince her just what  replacement would mean. 
\par \tab I closed the door and heard the faint sound of something  impacting against it. I made a mental note for later then went  upstairs. 
\par \tab When I returned to my office the scanner had almost finished.  A series of messages in the window of my graphics workstation  indicated that the first few pictures had been analyzed. I pulled up  the first, a picture of Caroline standing demurely in her evening  gown, and started to work. 
\par \tab Graphic manipulation is hard and time consuming even with the  best conventional software. Fortunately over the past year and with  Andy's suggestions I'd been helping to develop a revolutionary  program. 
\par \tab Raytracing in the technique used in computer graphics to make  computer generated images appear real by adding highlights, shading  and shadows to an object as if it was really 3D. Inside a computer  program you position your computer generated objects and a set of  virtual lights. The computer then works out how the object will look  to a virtual camera, where the shading and shadows and reflections  will be. Once all of this is worked out the image is generated  sometimes with unbelievable realism. 
\par \tab What my program did was the same in reverse, given an image it  works out the positions characteristics and relative magnitudes of the  light sources that lit the original object. This lighting map can then  be applied to another image, overriding the lighting conditions that  were present when it was recorded. This allows multiple images to be  assembled and appear to be lit by the same sources. 
\par \tab In this case I removed the background of the dustsheets from  behind Caroline and transplanted her to another background that I'd  already scanned and analyzed. Then the computer went to work, matching  the lighting of Caroline's picture with that of the new background. It  added shadows, highlights and reflections to both parts until it  appeared that she belonged in the other picture. The technique isn't  perfect, the composite image still needs a lot of manual adjustment to  appear totally realistic and I didn't have the time for that now.  Fortunately even the simple run through looks wonderfully effective  and that was all I needed. Caroline stood on a damp, well lit street  after nightfall. She smiled at the camera, the streetlights glinting  from her jewelry and her heels reflecting in the puddles on the  sidewalk.... 
\par \tab I worked all afternoon assembling images and pasting them into  a document I'd prepared earlier. I rolled between computers on my  office chair checking first one, then the other, then Caroline with  mechanical precision. When I'd left she had initially thrown the books  at the door in a sudden act of renewed spirit. Finally though after  trying desperately to get at her covered crotch, boredom overtook her  and she started to read. Every couple of hours I looked in on her,  partly so that she could drink but mainly because the chastity pants  stopped her from going to the toilet without my help. 
\par \tab Around five the last document finished printing and I was  ready. I put my work into a folder along with other papers, collected  a snack from the kitchen and headed downstairs. 
\par \tab After setting up the table I freed her and lead her into the  dungeon. I fastened collar to table, and strapped ankles and butt to  the chair. Then I removed her gloves, this was one time I wanted  fingerprints. Finally I removed the gag, but as always I left it  dangling around her neck. 
\par \tab "I thought we should talk," I said sitting across the table  from her. I pushed over a diet coke, "I know you have questions about  your new life here and I really haven't given you any answers." She  gulped down a huge swallow of coke, which seemed to restore her  confidence. 
\par \tab "Who are you? Why have you brought me here?" She asked her  voice high and anxious. 
\par \tab I rolled my eyes, back over the same old ground. "I am your  MASTER, I have selected you to be my sex slave. Your principle job is  to obey me completely and to give sexual pleasure to me and to any  others I indicate. I've told you this before." I knew what the next  question was so I cut her off. "As to why I chose you, that is my  concern." 
\par \tab "Now that we have covered all your old questions AGAIN, is  there anything else you want to ask?" 
\par \tab "How long do you intend to keep me here?" 
\par \tab "Until you bore me. Then I'll replace you with a new girl." A  frightened look spread over her face. 
\par \tab "You aren't the first," I lied, "And you are certainly not the  last. The longer you please me, the longer you stay alive and the  longer your replacement keeps her liberty." 
\par \tab "How long?" She asked her eyes large and frightened.  
\par \tab "The current record is five years," I said smoothly, "But she  was exceptionally obedient. Those who refuse training usually don't  last a month." I could see her absorbing the information. "In the end  I grew quite attached to her, when the time came I sold her to a  friend rather than do anything unpleasant." I smiled at her, "There is  always a place for a good obedient slave, the difficult ones bring the  inevitable on themselves." 
\par \tab I looked into her eyes, "I wonder what type you'll be?"  
\par \tab "Please master......." her questions were now ended. All the  horrors that had been forming in her mind as she lay, bound and alone  in her cell had now be confirmed. What more was there to say?  \tab "Now I have a question for you slave," I said noting the  renewed tension in her shoulder muscles. "A couple of days ago when my  friend Bob came over and I hid you behind the couch, why didn't you  try to scream to him?" 
\par \tab "I was gagged..." 
\par \tab "But you must have realized that he could still hear you that  close by." 
\par \tab She swallowed. "He was in on it with you," she cried, "You had  plenty of time to move me away I figured you wouldn't risk him finding  me if he didn't already know. You wanted me to disobey you so you  could punish me!" 
\par \tab It was a good reasoned argument. With all the ease I'd had  until now I'd forgotten that I was dealing with a college  undergraduate and not a simple farm girl. She was bright all right but  I was better. An evil thought came to me. 
\par \tab "You were half right slave," I said, "Bob wouldn't have freed  you but he isn't part of all this. You see I told old Bob that my  latest girlfriend is kinky, into bondage and the like, just in case he  discovered your presence. If you had screamed I'd have just introduced  you to him and let him go on his way. He'd think it odd but he  wouldn't think that you were being held against your will."  
\par \tab I smiled as a sudden look of realization spread across her  face. I could even guess what she was thinking. If "Bob" had seen her  then maybe he would have recognized her from a missing persons report.  "Phantom Bob" had just sporned a "Phantom Opportunity" for rescue that  she had failed to take.. 
\par \tab I waited until the look of despair had started to subside.  
\par \tab "Don't knock yourself," I smiled, "You didn't know and besides  no one knows you're missing so he wouldn't have recognized you  anyway." 
\par \tab "Someone will know," She said looking me defiantly in the  face, that look of hope in her eye. "Sooner or later I will be  reported missing and....." 
\par \tab "And nothing," I cut in. "Thousands of people go missing every  year, far more than can be put down to foul play. There are people  running from the law, from creditors, bad marriages. That's the beauty  of a country this size, it's easy to get lost in. Most missing people  turn up in the first few weeks, the police probably won't look at your  case for a month. Then I'm sure that there are a lot of college and  bank loans outstanding, a lot of moneys owed?" I could see from her  face that there were. "The police don't look for people who want to go  missing and the evidence is that you ran away." 
\par \tab The light in her eyes still shone a little. Now it was time to  extinguish it for good. "All we have to do to make sure is give them a  good reason for you to leave town. I have one right here."  
\par \tab I opened the folder, took out her pen, paper and envelopes and  a piece of laserprinted paper. 
\par \tab "This is the text of a letter I will send to your mother. You  will copy it onto the writing paper EXACTLY as it is written. I have  enough samples of your hand writing to recognize if you try anything  stupid." 
\par \tab I watched as she read the text. It was simple and workmanlike  in Caroline's usual style and said that she had been offered a summer  job in a private psychiatric clinic near Seattle. The job as a nursing  assistant was really nothing more than a glorified Candystriper, but  her professors had agreed that the experience could count towards her  final end of year grades. With this in mind she would be leaving  immediately now that exams were over. She would forward her address  once her new employer had assigned her accommodation. 
\par \tab "Well what are you waiting for?" 
\par \tab She shook her head and read the text again. It was a plausible  explanation for her leaving town. Styles, pet names and general  writing mannerisms were all hers, once it was copied by her own hand  onto her own stationary it would appear perfectly normal. She knew as  well as I did that once her parents received this the hunt would be  over. Eventually the alarm would be raised, but they would start  looking in the wrong place and by then the trail would be long cold.  
\par \tab I watched while she pondered it. 
\par \tab "All I need is a plausible explanation for why you 
\par disappeared," I said. "This one is the best because it seems most  natural, but a girl in your position, owing money and with  unsympathetic parents can have lots of reasons to disappear."  
\par \tab I tossed her a large white business envelope. She caught it  and looked at it blankly. I watched as her eyes scanned it, they  darted quickly over the return address, someone in an unfamiliar  sounding street in Seattle. Her reaction was more pronounced however  when she saw where the package was going. It was addressed to her but  the address was her parent's house in Iowa. With trembling fingers she  opened it. The package contained four pages pinned together. The top  sheet was a piece of good quality company headed note paper bearing a  stylized almost art deco logo of a beautiful woman bringing a wine  glass to her lips, underneath in a tasteful script font were the words  "Cachet Escorts." The company's office was the same unfamiliar address  as on the envelope which I knew to be in a half empty office block in  a rundown suburb of Seattle. 
\par \tab I was proud of the letter and I watched as her eye's widened  in horror. It was dated a few days before the kidnapping and read.  
\par \tab My Dear Caroline,    
\par \tab I wish to thank you for your dedication over the last few  weeks, it could not have been easy to fit our interviews and photo  sessions into your busy schedule. I trust your preparations for the  move to Seattle are well advanced. I can only say again that you will  not regret your decision. Washington is a very beautiful state and  Seattle can offer a host of entertainment for a young lady such as  yourself. 
\par \tab However, I must admit to feeling a little uncomfortable about  your proposed Seattle address. Although your friend is right in saying  that the neighborhood has low cost accommodation, it is the kind of  area a girl cannot walk alone in safety. If you contact our offices we  can provide a list of clean low cost hotels that you would find much  more suitable. If money is a problem I am sure we could arrange a  small advance until you have found your feet. 
\par \tab I have enclosed a copy of the information we keep on file.  Please check it, correct if necessary, sign and date the bottom, and  return it as soon as you can. 
\par \tab I have also included draft copies of your pages from our  various directories. These are the results of your photo sessions and  the information you provided. Although we foresee no problems it is  our policy to allow our girls to check and if necessary modify their  entry before we have the final copy printed. Rest assured that the  directories do not leave our offices, although we sometimes provide a  copy of a new girl's entry to our regular clients upon request.  
\par \tab We have also included your entry from our special services  directory. Again I must complement you on your decision to try this  area. As we discussed the work is varied and well rewarded. The  gentlemen who have these special needs are amongst our most generous  patrons and a few of our girls have removed themselves from our  general roster to concentrate on these clients exclusively. The  photographs used in these pages are by necessity more explicit. Some  of our girls in the past have expressed doubts over their entry's but  now agree that we where right in our decision. The special directory  never leaves the offices and is only shown to special trusted clients.  
\par \tab I will say again that these are only draft copies for your  approval. The quality of the final printed versions will be much  better. 
\par \tab Finally when we last spoke you were still unsure if you wanted  to use the name Elizabeth. As you can see our draft pages are  currently using this name. If you wish to change it, please do let us  know as soon as possible. We reserve the right to approve the  professional name of all of our young ladies. It is our policy that  each of our girls chooses a unique name on a first come first served  basis. This is to avoid confusion and reassure our clients that they  will get the right girl if they ask for her by name. 
\par \tab In addition we discourage the use of names too close to the  girl's real name as it can cause embarrassment. For example in your  case we would discourage the use of "Carol" or "Carolyn" but names  such as "Catherine" or "Carrie" would be fine. 
\par \tab Please contact me the moment you arrive in town and we can  arrange to have lunch and discuss your plans. 
\par \tab I remain as ever yours.   
\par \tab Brenda Evans. 
\par \tab It didn't take a genius to realize that Cachet was a high  class call girl agency. I had first come across them a couple of years  before when some of their girls worked a party organized by a well  known software company. Their girls were hand picked to be courteous,  sophisticated and well read but it was no secret that for the right  amount they could be persuaded to stay the night. I knew a lot of men  who used their services when in Seattle and while not being a client  myself I had heard enough by word of mouth to know how they operated.  One indiscreet client had once given me a girl's file entry with the  recommendation that I try her. I had used this as a model for  Caroline's entry. 
\par \tab Cachet was now out of business, it's offices raided amongst  great scandal a few months before. I had no doubt that there would be  at least another two or three 'Cachets' by now hoping to pull in the  defunct agencies clientele, so my fake would probably be written off  as a short lived imitator. 
\par \tab By now Caroline was scanning the second sheet. It was a  supposedly the agencies private file entry giving age, height, weight,  interests, address and next of kin. Not too different from the  personnel file any company would keep. 
\par \tab "Look at the addresses," I said with some pride. 
\par \tab Under her name was her parents address, under her parents  names as next of kin was her college address. 
\par \tab "It's what laymen call a computer error," I said, "In the  industry we call it garbage in, garbage out. You see when the thing  was transferred from paper an unfortunate substitution took place  which means that the agency 'accidentally' sent this to your parents  house. When they can't find you they will of course open it and...."  
\par \tab She had found the 'and'. The first page seemed innocent  enough. It was Caroline's entry in the agencies directory. Most of the  sheet contained pictures of Caroline in her evening gown. The first  was a picture of Caroline on the street a departing limo in the  background. Second picture, a smiling Caroline offers a gloved hand to  the camera, hotel bedroom background. The rest of the pictures were in  much the same vein. Caroline handling and drinking Champagne and  looking suggestive. The text hinted that after a night at the opera  'Elizabeth' may be persuaded stay a little longer. 
\par \tab Sheet two was very different. Supposedly from the 'special  directory' it showed 'Elizabeth' in her full leather finery. The first  shot was just of her standing with her high heeled foot on a stool  showing off her leather panties pulled tight over her crotch, hands on  hips, smiling. There was a corresponding "Elizabeth drinks Champagne"  shot then a three frame sequence of a smiling 'Elizabeth' gagging and  handcuffing herself. The final shot was of the dominant 'Elizabeth'  flexing a riding crop and looking stern. The text was also more  explicit talking of 'Elizabeth's' wish to make her client happy no  matter what his 'special needs' may be. 
\par \tab Caroline looked up in horror, "NO please..." 
\par \tab "I'm posting one of these off tomorrow," I said pointing to  the large envelope and the letter pad. "It really doesn't matter to me  which they receive. Either would explain why you would disappear and  either will draw attention away from the idea of a kidnapping. It's  really up to you. Your parents are never going to see you again.  Question is, how do you want them to remember you, as their little  girl or as a evil little slut selling her body for money?"  
\par \tab Caroline started to weep. I could see the despair in her eyes.  I slapped the crop on the table, "Choose!" With a trembling hand she  picked up the pen and started to write. 
\par \tab I rejected her first attempt because the writing was too  unsteady, the next two because of spelling errors. Number four was  perfect but I rejected it anyway and warned her not to give me any  more trouble. I yelled and threatened punishment and in the end got  her into the frame of mind I needed. She wrote the letter, addressed  the envelope and even licked the stamp to provide comprehensive  forensic evidence. I then placed the letter in a ziplock and handed  her the second item. When she started to read it I slammed the crop  down in front of her. 
\par \tab "Slaves obey, they don't need to understand," I said  viscously. 
\par \tab So she started, writing postcards, signing documents, filling  in forms in her own name and a variety of aliases. As each was  finished it went into a separate ziplock. She seemed bewildered and I  never gave her time to think things through. Were a document wasn't  unique I would often venomously reject the first one she did just to  keep her off balance. When she signed and dated a complex legal  document near the end she wasn't even aware that she had just signed  her freedom way. 
\par \tab I finished up with her signing a couple of checks. Then I  produced a tape recorder and a few sheets of paper. 
\par \tab "This is a script," I said pushing the paper over to her,  
\par \tab "You will say the words exactly as written, understand."  
\par \tab She nodded and did fairly well on the first couple of  messages, but then when she started on one obviously meant for her  parents she started to sob uncontrollably In the end it took a lot of  threats before I had the performance I needed. 
\par \tab "You did well," I said as I reached over and shoved the gag  back into her sobbing mouth. "I'll forgive you for the temper tantrum  this morning. Tell me slave, are you still horny?" 
\par \tab Still sobbing she nodded her head. 
\par \tab "Good. I have to put you away for a while because I have to  finish upstairs," I gentily stroked her thigh. "Afterwards though I'll  reward you." 
\par \tab I had her replace the gloves with a clean latex pair and  replace the cuffs. I strapped her arms behind her and freed her from  the chair. I pulled her close to me felling the hardness of the  chastity corset as it pressed into my chest. The light of hope was  gone from the tear filled eyes that stared at me over the gag.  
\par \tab "I am your master slave, and now your training begins."     
\par \tab Chapter 7: "Sleepwalking on Bourbon Street" 
\par \tab "Putting Caroline away" proved to be the hardest thing I'd  done so far. She was hot and had been denied an orgasm for too long  already. I could smell the musky aroma of her damp cunt even through  the confines of the chastity briefs. She continued to look at me  pleadingly as I lead her towards the cell and when I stopped to pull  back the bolts, she rubbed her leather covered crotch up and down my  leg invitingly. As the briefs transmitted no sensation to her covered  cunt I can only assume that it was for my benefit. 
\par \tab In any case it was working! It took every ounce of willpower  in me not to take her then and there. Instead I somehow forced her  inside and fastened her to the wire. She made a little moaning sound  behind the gag as I turned to leave. 
\par \tab "Soon enough sweetheart," I managed to say though my head was  pounding, "We'll see to that real soon." 
\par \tab I spent about an hour checking the papers she'd signed. Most  were trivial, notes to institutions informing them of address changes,  postcards to friends. Some were more important, a note to the police  about her stolen car, the transfer of her bank account to Seattle.  Although many and varied the one thing that they had in common was  that they formed what an investigator would call an "audit trail." It  wasn't perfect but it was the best I could do. 
\par \tab The big problem was that I couldn't do anything that involved  her turning up in person. Things like applying for a Washington state  drivers license would need a woman to stand in line for a couple of  hours. Of course in fiction it is easy, the evil organization of white  slavers have entire departments dedicated to erasing "volunteers" past  lives. Female accomplices are ten a penny, all officials can be  blackmailed or bribed. 
\par \tab Reality though was less perfect, still I was happy with what I  had achieved. There was now a large body of evidence which pointed to  her having moved to a run down suburb of Seattle. The area was well  known as a red light district. The sort of place a pretty young thing  could disappear without trace. 
\par \tab Once I was finished I placed a call to one of my editors. Just  how badly did he need the latest news on the new Windows release?  Obviously enough to pay for a flight to Seattle, an extra couple of  calls to sign up for a Microsoft seminar and it was done. A legitimate  reason to go to the north west and spread my little seeds.  
\par \tab Still it left me with a couple of days to get ready, so I  busied myself with a couple of minor articles whilst watching Caroline  get steadily more frustrated. 
\par \tab After a while I found myself just watching the screen and  daydreaming. One image that had always appealed to me was of the slave  girl as lapdog. Something like a harem slave sitting patiently at her  master's feet ready to serve his every whim. I'd had a little leather  outfit made for just that purpose; a small pushup bra that left the  nipples free for clamps matched with a tight pair of side laced bikini  briefs that barely covered anything. A leather bondage belt was  connected to a number of strong thin chains which in turn were  fastened to wrists and ankles by small gilded metal cuffs. A matching  metal collar and leash completed the bondage elements though a metal  and leather gag could be added if necessary. I looked at my watch, it  was about an hour before the late screening of the X Files.  
\par \tab How nice it would be, I mused, to watch the show with a slave  at my feet ready to serve me if the need arose. If she was good I may  allow her to sleep chained to the foot of my bed. The image was so  appealing I found myself hard again. With some regrets I turned off  the monitor and reasserted my self control. Then I started to make  preparations. 
\par \tab First up was a shower. I'd only washed Caroline the night  before but the kind of things we did involved a lot of sweat and other  excretions. I remembered her musky odor, by now she'd need to shower  again. To save time I laid out the slavegirl outfit in one of the  upstairs bedrooms. Next came suitable music. 
\par \tab I'm basically a Rock man, the Stones, Kiss, and Rush are my  music of choice, but while we were together I'd done the "New Man"  thing and pretended to like Sam's music. Sam was into classical, or at  least so she claimed, but I've always had the suspicion that this was  more for show than anything. I've noticed that models like to appear  cultured, I suspect that it's an attempt to dump the bimbo image they  get in the tabloids. She had bought a "Three Tenors" style disk of  great operatic love songs that she used to play during sex. I smiled,  if Caroline was as hot as I believed then the shower could prove  interesting. I put the CD into the machine then went to collect the  slave. 
\par \tab When I entered she seemed awfully keen, probably because she  thought I'd come to fuck her and end the frustration.. I let her keep  thinking this while I removed the cuffs and strapped her arms behind  her. Then I unlocked the chastity outfit. By now she was all aglow and  opened her legs expectantly. For a girl three days into a kidnapping  to be so keen to be fucked by her captor is perhaps a little odd. Yet  Caroline seemed to have had very little sexual pleasure before I took  her, and had been in a constant state of sexual frustration since. I  looked into her eyes, saw the hunger and knew then that she was  starting to become addicted. A few more frustrating weeks in the  chastity outfit, unable to relieve herself and with her only pleasure  coming when I decided and she would be broken. 
\par \tab For now I just smiled as she thrust her pussy towards me and  mewed behind the gag. 
\par \tab "Not yet slave," I said gently stroking her breast and finding  the nipple hard and erect, "I don't fuck smelly bitches. You need a  bath first." I could tell that wasn't what she needed NOW, but she  bowed her head in acknowledgment. Naked but for gloves, boots and gag  she waited patiently while I attached the leash and strapped on the  blindfold. 
\par \tab I didn't bother with a hobble so it proved a quick and easy  journey to the upstairs bathroom. Once again I removed the boots and  blindfold but kept her gloved and gagged. Then I padlocked the leash  to the ring before stripping off myself. 
\par \tab I punched a button on my remote control and the hidden  speakers started the buildup to a classic operatic aria. Then the  tenor joined in his voice full of passion and heartbreaking emotion. I  started small, deftly shampooing her hair as I had the night before,  listening as she moaned with pleasure. All through this she was happy,  no one in her situation would turn down a bath. After suitable  warnings I unstrapped the gag so that I could remove all the old  makeup from her face. She looked at me as I gently stroked her cheek.  
\par \tab "Please..." She whispered the edge of desperation in her  voice. An idea came to me and I drew her naked body close feeling her  hard nipples dig into my chest. 
\par \tab "Soon," I said. 
\par \tab She didn't fuss when I put the gag back. She seemed strangely  subdued, both horny and melancholy. Time had come to warm her up. My  roving hand moved on, gently stroking and caressing her helpless body.  I cleaned parts in a random order, teasing her with my touch,  listening as she moaned and caught her breath. Finally my hand drifted  down, finding her pussy warm and very damp as I gently cleaned it.  There was the suggestion of a fine stubble on her pubis and I wondered  about the possibility of home electrolysis. I was careful that as I  cleaned her pussy of the days accumulated juices I didn't up the  sensation to a level she could find useful. She moaned in frustration  as the heat in her crotch increased. I unfastened her elbows and  started washing her back. She made a little mewing sound and as my  hands slid forwards to caress her breasts and their erect nipples,  hers drifted down to gently brush against my balls and the insides of  my thighs. The message seemed clear, I wasn't the only one who could  tease. 
\par \tab I let my hand hover round her abdomen then slide back to the  silken folds between her legs. I was rewarded by the slick touch of  her latex covered fingers on the head of my cock. Then we traded,  finger on nub for thumb on head. It seemed like masturbation by proxy  but it was also a big turn on. I soaped her down using handfuls of  shower gel to make her body wet and slippery. She started to slide her  body against mine making sure that the outside of her thigh slid up  and down my steadily mounting erection. I gasped and started to caress  her, one hand cupped her breast while the other slid down to finger  her hot cunt. I started to nibble her neck between the gagstrap and  her shoulder. She moaned then arched her back, fingers straining  against the single imprisoning strap. I gasped as she started to work  on my balls and thighs, carefully avoiding the shaft, denying me an  orgasm as long as I denied hers. Above it all the tenor sang of loves  lost and hearts broken in a mounting crescendo of emotion. Through it  all I dimly wondered how long we could stay like that, how far we  could push it while still keeping the other from release. Part of my  mind had decided to take her right then and there against the shower  wall, I even upped the pace a little, listening to her excited yelps  as she came closer and closer to the edge. Then dimly I became aware  of something else in the environment, something noisy, insistent,  something cutting through even the vibrant music. 
\par \tab It was the phone, I suppose it was to be expected after all we  were in the shower. Part of my brain said leave it, let the machines  pick it up, but they didn't and the ringing continued as insistent as  ever. It says a lot about the power a ringing phone has over us that I  got out of the shower. Caroline gave a little scream and when I looked  at her she tried to say something. Too well gagged to be intelligible  she shook her head, thrust her shaved cunt towards me and wiggled her  hips. It was an invitation good in any language but the little  dictator kept ringing. In the end I threw on a robe and squelched off  to the handset in the upstairs hall. I mean, there I was about to have  sex with a beautiful, naked and helpless girl, I could have let it  ring until the guy at the other end got the message and rang off. Yet  I didn't; I didn't because I am an idiot. 
\par \tab The idiot picked up the phone. "Hello?" 
\par \tab There was a pause on the other end of the line then a hesitant  female voice asked, "Mr. Thomas?" 
\par \tab I was about to yell no, tell the stupid bitch she had the  wrong number and slam down the phone, then I suddenly remembered that  I'd used the name Thomas when I'd left the message for Vicky the  photographic model. 
\par \tab "Yes that's right, is that Vicky?" I asked as calmly as any  guy could with a raging hardon. 
\par \tab She stammered out a yes, though it was hard to hear over the  operatic background music. I realized that I'd left the remote behind.  
\par \tab "Thought I remembered your voice from the answering machine, "  I lied. "Look I'm sorry for the noise, can't reach the stereo from  here.." 
\par \tab "I was w..wondering if you still needed a model. I realize  it's been a couple of days since you called but I've been away......"  
\par \tab She seemed apologetic, weak and unsure. 
\par \tab "No I still need a model," I said wanting this over as soon as  possible. 
\par \tab She seemed relieved but even in my ardor alarm bells were  already starting to ring. 
\par \tab "Vicky, sorry to ask this luv," I said switching into classic  Pearson, "But you do seem a little nervous. Do you have much  experience?" 
\par \tab At first she tried to bluff it out. Then her confidence failed  and she twittered on for a while. I really didn't have time for this  but the explanation she blurted out I gathered that the camera shop  where I had found her name did portrait and ID pictures. The  photographer had persuaded her to try modeling and had suggested that  she leave her number. I was her first call. To be honest I was tempted  to turn her down, but she looked so much like Caroline and there was  so much I could do with her unwitting help. So patiently I spun her a  line. I was an amateur trying to make a break into the pro circuit. I  would need a model at various times and various places to take shots  for my portfolio. She must be willing to appear in a variety of shots,  in various outfits and perhaps nude. The nature of the work would be  experimental as I would be trying out different films and effects.  Some of it wouldn't make sense. I would pay her by the hour,  irrespective of the number of shots or what they entailed but I  promised that I would give her copies of some shots for her private  use. 
\par \tab She seemed pleased and a little surprised, to be honest she  wasn't a great looker, though like Caroline she was probably better  after a makeover, and I think it did her ego good to know she could be  paid for her looks. Her gratitude bubbled out, I was waiting to  politely end the call and get back to my hot slave when suddenly I got  a weird creepy feeling, a kind of sixth sense warning of danger.  
\par \tab To this day I don't know what it was, though I suppose I could  have heard something subconsciously. I managed to tell Vicky that I  had another call and I had just hit the hold button when the screaming  started. The closed bathroom door was at one end of the corridor, the  phone at the other I have no doubt that some land speed records were  broken in the next few seconds as I raced towards the noise. Caroline  was cutting loose but good. I bounced open the door to find her half  out of the shower one hand holding the still attached leash to stop it  pulling tight as she lent forward, the other hand questing for the  door latch. The situation had come close to a complete disaster. The  strap that bound her wrists was lying in the shower, the ballgag was  pulled down around her neck, only the presence of the padlocked collar  and leash had stopped her from getting completely free. How had it  happened so fast? I'd kept her bound for the last few days without her  budging a single bond. One thing was clear I needed to reassert  control fast! 
\par \tab Surprisingly she stopped screaming the moment I entered the  room. 
\par \tab "Please.." She said. 
\par \tab I said nothing just grabbed wrists and turned her to face the  wall. She struggled and it proved hard to hold her, the gloves seemed,  if anything, slicker than usual. Turning her to face me again I raised  my hand to slap her face. She whimpered and cringed and the fight left  her. Leaving her for the moment I reached down for the discarded  strap. It was then I noticed the large blob of blue gel in the bottom  of the shower. Retrieving the strap I examined the gloves as she held  them up to protect her face and body. Then I realized what a  complacent fool I'd been. 
\par \tab I had become so used to her being so cooperative that I'd  started to cut corners. Locked in the cell she had worn tight leather  cuffs, but these were expensive and the finish easily damaged by water  so before the shower I had swapped them for two basic leather straps,  one at the wrists one at the elbows. When I had started to wash her  back I'd removed the elbow strap to allow for access. Then things had  become more heated so I hadn't put it back. When the phone rang I'd  just left, closing the door behind me so that her little gagged noises  wouldn't be heard.. In short I had left her alone, unobserved and with  only one strap holding her. She had managed to squeeze shower gel on  to her latex gloves near the wrist and use the lubrication to work her  hands free. The collar, gag and leash were all padlocked but she had  managed to roll the gag out of her mouth and scream to alert the  caller at the other end of the line. The hairs on the back of my neck  prickled, I had come within seconds of being caught. 
\par \tab Silently I gathered her wrists turned her towards the wall and  restrapped her arms at wrist and elbow. She didn't resist seeming more  than happy that I hadn't hit her. After the arms were done I used the  shower to clean the gel off of her body and gloves thought to be  honest I doubted she could slip her hands free with her elbows  clinched. Next I released the leash and forced her down onto the  showermat. Using the belts from the bathrobes I bound her legs  together and hog-tied her wrists to her ankles. Then I went to the  medicine cabinet and got some sticky plaster, a bandage and few pads  of cotton. First I replaced the ballgag fastening it tighter than I  ever had before pulling the ball further into her mouth. She  complained, it probably hurt like hell, but I didn't care. Next I  forced the pads between her lips in front of the ball until her mouth  was fully packed and used the sticky plaster to hold it in place. A  nice tight Ace bandage wrapped tightly over the top and she was gagged  as well as I could manage at the moment. It was important that Vicky  heard from me as soon as possible so with Caroline rolling on the  bathroom floor in plain sight I went back to the phone. 
\par \tab "Sorry Vicky love, you have no idea how some people carry on."  I said looking at Caroline. My slave quaked and tried to say  something. Vicky seemed pleased that I hadn't hung up on her and we  made plans for the next day. All the time I was aware of Caroline  struggling a few yards away. The gag proved very effective and her  desperate screams became muffled moans easily drowned out by Domingo  in full voice. 
\par \tab Vicky never once commented on any sounds (though I had a good  explanation ready if she did.) I signed off and walked back towards my  slave. 
\par \tab "She didn't hear a thing, I put her on hold just before you  started screaming." Caroline looked up in despair. By then she already  realized that she'd failed. After all I'd made her listen helplessly  as I completed the call but now was the worse prospect. Now came the  punishment. 
\par \tab I released her feet and helped her up using a towel to dry  her. I was perhaps a little rougher than I strictly needed to be. She  stood to attention doing nothing that would anger me further.  
\par \tab Then the music seemed to seize her. I don't think she knew  Italian and there was nothing in her tape collection that suggested  that she was a big opera fan. Perhaps something in the man's mournful  song to his lost love reminded her of a freedom denied. In any case  she started to sob, though I missed it at first, the gag muffled all  sound and the water dripping from her hair washed away her tears. In  the end it was the gentile quaking of her shoulders that gave it away.  I turned her around and looked into her eyes. I'd expected to see  anger, sorrow, something I could understand but whatever demons she  had were playing games behind those pretty blue eyes, and all I could  see was pain, deeper and older than I expected. She didn't struggle  when I replaced the boots and hobbled her, she must have realized that  she'd blown it and there seemed no point in compounding things. I got  dressed with her chained to the top of the stairs the phone just out  of reach. Strangely her escape attempt had made the erection worse. I  don't know if it was the danger of discovery or just the excitement of  the chase. I really wished I could set that talented mouth to work but  I wanted her to wear the uncomfortable gag a little longer. I checked  the building security logs while I dressed. During the 30 Seconds or  so of her screaming there were no intruders, there wasn't even a car  passing the end of the drive. 
\par \tab Satisfied I blindfolded her and led her back to the dungeon.  Once there I chained her to one of the overhead rings and prepared her  for punishment. 
\par \tab Modern bondage photography is good, but the scenes seem far  too posed, the women either too perfect of too ordinary. Over the past  few months while "researching" the kidnapping I'd come across a number  of photo's from the 1950's taken by artists like Irvin Klaw and John  Willie. I suppose part of the attraction had been the concentration on  fetishwear especially the high heels, though the fact that the models  tended to be "resting" 1950's B movie actresses probably brought back  memories of my beloved Republic serials. In any case two things from  these photo's had influenced my plans for Caroline. The first was the  pony girl rig that was sitting in the room behind my garage along with  Caroline's few belongings. I'd finally found a place in Arizona that  made the things and had one shipped to New England in a crate marked  "Cycle spares." This would have to wait until Caroline had been  "broken" of course but the other idea, that of posture training would  get an unexpected early trial. 
\par \tab The corset came first. All the previous fetish "corsets" she  had worn had really been tight leather tops capable of pulling in and  pushing up a little but without the facility for tight lacing. Of  course Caroline didn't understand the difference, the corset I now  brought to her seemed perhaps only a little more old fashioned than  previous ones. Certainly she didn't resist, stepping into it when  ordered and holding still while it was pulled up her body. I left it  loose for now and instead replaced her usual collar for a high leather  posture collar. This involved releasing her from the leash but she  gave no trouble, probably deciding to get it over with rather that  risk greater punishment. New collar in place and leash again secured I  removed the damp latex gloves and replaced them with an elegant  leather pair that came to just above her elbows. Next came the return  of the leather cuffs which I used to fasten her wrists to the ring at  the back of her collar effectively fastening her hands behind her  neck. She tugged on the gagstrap giving me a big eyed helpless look.  In the end I relented and removed the gag. 
\par \tab She paused for a while wiggling her jaw and waiting for the  numbness to wear off. 
\par \tab "I'm sorry Master, I didn't mean it.." 
\par \tab "Liar!" I said. Whatever she had been expecting this wasn't  it, she floundered for a while so I decided to help her. 
\par \tab "What did you do and why are you being punished?" I asked.  
\par \tab She looked down, the collar stopped her from bowing her head.  
\par \tab "I screamed and tried to let someone know that I was here,"  She said. 
\par \tab "Which means you did what. Why are you being punished?"  
\par \tab She swallowed, "For trying to escape." 
\par \tab I made a deliberate effort to look amazed, "Is THAT what you  think. That you're to be punished for trying to escape?" 
\par \tab She looked up eyes wide. "Isn't it?" She asked weakly.  
\par \tab "Oh no!" I said, "The escape is a perfectly normal reaction, I  was stupid enough to give you the opportunity, you were resourceful  enough to take it. I have no problem with the escape attempt in fact I  think it was very well done. I can't blame you for giving it a try it  was my fault leaving you like that." 
\par \tab I wandered off towards the cupboard and returned with some  balls, a pad gag, some tape and length of kitchen roll. 
\par \tab She looked confused, "Then why?" 
\par \tab "You removed your gag without permission ." 
\par \tab She glanced down at the kitchen roll in my hand, her face  suddenly filled with horror and at that moment she went hysterical.  "No Master, oh please no! I'll do anything, oh please, oh God NO!" I  tore a piece of the paper off and brought it up to her nose. I could  tell she wanted to move her head but the collar made that impossible.  She cringed and whimpered as I placed it to her nose. 
\par \tab "Blow," I said, "Really hard I want it good and clear." We  spent about a minute blowing her nose, by the end of which she had  almost stopped shaking. The thing about a good lesson is that you  never need to repeat it. 
\par \tab For emphasis I loosely fastened the leather pad gag around her  neck, though I had no intention of gagging her right now it paid to  remind her that speech was a privilege *I* controlled. 
\par \tab I held one of the balls up so that she could see it.  
\par \tab "Know what this is slave?" 
\par \tab She looked intensely at the small metal sphere for a few  moments. A few inches wide it had a little string attached to it. At  the end of the string was a tag not too different from the ones found  on teabags. 
\par \tab For a second she hesitated then said, "Is it a Ben Wa ball?"  
\par \tab Now it was my turn to look surprised. "Very good slave," I  said, 
\par \tab "We are full of surprises today! Now can you explain exactly  HOW you know that?" 
\par \tab She blushed, "Brenda...., a friend showed me one once."  
\par \tab "Ever use one?" 
\par \tab She went to shake her head but couldn't. "No." 
\par \tab "But you know what they are for." 
\par \tab Again I think she would have liked to just indicate in the end  she answered very quietly, "Yes." 
\par \tab "Good," I said, "That will save us some time. Now spread your  legs." She complied being in no position to do otherwise. Her cunt  wasn't quite as juicy as usual and it took a few minutes of gentle  play before she was damp enough to allow the first ball in. I pushed  in the second and left her standing there with the two little tags  dangling from between her pussy lips. I tore off a strip of tape and  stuck it firmly over her cunt repeating the process until a little  white PVC triangle covered her crotch completely. I unhitched her and  walked her over to the table. I could tell that the devilish little  balls were already at work by her expression as I helped her on to the  table. I locked the leash in place then had her move forward so that  she was perched on the edge. I discarded her old boots and reached  down. 
\par \tab A pair of real silk stockings came first. The classic pattern  with the seam at the back and the dark band at the top, they were  pulled up to her thigh and left there. I spent some time straightening  the seams while she watched in silence. 
\par \tab Boots came next. Since I had brought her here Caroline had  usually worn a set of high heeled boots. These were ladies fashion  boots in leather, PVC or patent leather. Though styles varied they  were all fairly tight fitting, came to just below the knee and had a 2  1/2 to 3 inch heel. In fact these boots had been bought from regular  shoe stores and differed from those seen on any high street only in  having been modified so they could be locked in place. These and a $15  a pair set of latex gloves formed the core of a slave outfit and was  cheap and expendable. 
\par \tab The boots I now prepared to put on her feet were very  different. Made from the finest leather they were stiff enough not to  crease or wrinkle but soft enough to mold themselves to the leg like a  second skin. Finely patterned and hand made they carried a five inch  stiletto heel. Like their high street cousins they came up to the knee  but these needed no modification being held in place by the intricate  lacing up their front. These boots were definitely not expendable and  cost almost four hundred dollars a pair. 
\par \tab Once the lacing was finished I got her to stand all be it  rather unsteadily. With heels in place she was now almost as tall as I  was; still it made it easier to attach the stockings to the garters of  the corset. Next I lead her over to a post in the center of the room  and attached her cuffs to it. Seizing the laces of the corset I rammed  my knee into her back and pulled. Up 'till this point I think she'd  had trouble figuring out what the punishment was. Now she knew. She  gave an huff sound and gasped as the cords had their way with her  figure. There was a limit to what both of us could stand and when I  tied her off her waist was down to a respectable 19 inches.  
\par \tab The effect on her figure was startling. Caroline would never  have the "hourglass" figure of those '50's starlets, she simply wasn't  built enough up top but the corset maximized her assets to a really  quite rewarding extent. Of course she couldn't breath but that seemed  minor for the moment. I helped her up and on to her feet, and she  nearly fainted. In the end I found I had to let the corset out an inch  if I wanted her to stand. With the wind literally out of her sails it  proved easy to pull her arms behind her and cuff them in place. I ran  a small length of chain through her collar and fastened a wrist at  each end effectively chaining her hands in a kind of hammer lock  behind her back with her arms crossed. This had the additional effect  that it forced her shoulder back and improved her posture.  
\par \tab I retrieved a flogger and unchained her collar. 
\par \tab "Tell me slave, what is the minimum punishment for attempting  to escape." 
\par \tab She looked at the flogger, "But you said you wouldn...."  
\par \tab "I didn't say that you would be punished I was just checking  that you had read the book." 
\par \tab She swallowed. "A pussy whipping," she said nervously.  
\par \tab "How many lashes?" 
\par \tab "Twenty, with ten extra each repeat offense." 
\par \tab "Tell me slave have you ever been pussy whipped?" 
\par \tab The answer was predictable, "N..no." 
\par \tab I lashed out with the flogger catching her firmly between the  legs. She was surprised, and had no time to dodge. She let out a  little scream then doubled over in pain as far as the bondage would  allow. 
\par \tab "That was one," I said, "Given purely as an example of what  you can expect if you attempt anything that stupid again."  
\par \tab "Understand?" She was breathing heavily and still doubled  over. 
\par \tab "UNDERSTAND?" 
\par \tab "Y..yes." 
\par \tab "Yes what?" 
\par \tab "Yes master." 
\par \tab "What is the punishment for removing your gag without  permission." 
\par \tab "The tape...." 
\par \tab "Louder" 
\par \tab "The Tape, " She sobbed. 
\par \tab "Tell me slave have I whipped your pussy twenty times?"  
\par \tab "N..no" 
\par \tab "And the tape, have I used that?" 
\par \tab "NO." 
\par \tab "Then shouldn't you thank me for not punishing you?"  
\par \tab She paused, "Thank you Master." 
\par \tab "Good girl. Now thank me for whipping your pussy." 
\par \tab "Th..thank you for whipping my pussy Master." By now she had  straightened up. 
\par \tab "What won't this cunt do." 
\par \tab "Th.. this cunt won't try to escape, this cunt won't remove  her gag without permission." 
\par \tab "Very good slave," I said, "Now walk to the wall and back."  
\par \tab What I'd had in mind was the sexy slink of a high heeled  seductress, what I got was more of a waddle. Small steps are necessary  with heels that high, but the way she walked looked as if she was  picking her way through a field of shit. I stopped her. 
\par \tab "Slave you may find it better if you wiggle your ass more."  
\par \tab The idea of the Ben Wa balls had been to encourage her to  swing her hips. She tried increasing the pelvic movement and the  sudden flush on her face told me that she was getting the point. The  problem now was that her whole body moved from side to side in an  exaggerated movement that looked like someone wading. I tried to get  her to stop but the movement always returned. In the end I decided to  enforce what I needed. Going to the cabinet I retrieved some nipple  clamps. As I approached she took a step backwards. \
\
\tab "Please Master, they hurt." 
\par \tab "I know." 
\par \tab I started to fold down the soft leather cups of the corset to  expose her small brown nips. The Ben Wa balls had done their job well  and the nipples were hard and erect and just ready for clamping. She  knew she was helpless, there was no way she could avoid the inevitable  pain. Resigned she closed her eyes and held her breath as I fastened  the first clamp on her right nipple. She gave a little yelp and took  an involuntary step backwards I just held tight on the chain using it  as a short nipple leash. She squealed then stepped forward again.  
\par \tab "Good slave," I said encouragingly as I clamped her left  nipple. Each clamp was separate, and made up of three parts. The clamp  itself was of a devilish design which bit harder as it was pulled and  fastened to that was a short length of chain with a small weight at  the end. Any large movement would set the weight swinging increasing  the bite of the clamp and torturing the soft nipple flesh. Realizing  this she refused to move and it took a couple of quick slaps of her  butt with the flogger to get her moving. Still the improvement was  dramatic. The constant bite of the clamps actively discouraged upper  body movement while the throbbing balls buried deep in her cunt  rewarded hip movement. Within a few minutes these competing influences  found balance and she started to walk as I'd intended, hips slinking,  body almost still, the characteristic strut of the high heeled slut!  
\par \tab By the time she had done her third lap she was starting to get  the hang of things. She still wobbled a little and I'd had to catch  her a few times when she'd mistimed a step but as her confidence grew  she accepted my direction more readily. As a reward I removed the  clamps and was pleased to see that she didn't return to her old ways.  Still some problems persisted. She seemed self conscious about  strutting in front of me and it was this rather than any lack of  ability that seemed to be holding her back. We took a rest, I helped  her sit on the table to take the pressure off her feet and gave her a  drink. During those few minutes an idea started to form. She was hot  having been denied most of the day, if I could harness that I could  banish some of her self consciousness. What I needed was something  sexy, something dangerous, the breaking of a taboo or two. The  Reverend Conway didn't look like a liberal, one taboo struck me  straight away. 
\par \tab I helped her back up. 
\par \tab "Close your eyes." 
\par \tab She looked at me doubtfully. 
\par \tab "Look," I said, "this is your choice we can do this with a  blindfold if you want." 
\par \tab "But what if I fall." 
\par \tab "Then I'll catch you," I said, "Now close them." 
\par \tab She did and I moved in close so that I could speak softly into  her ear. Using the remote I selected a disk on the CD machine  upstairs. The opera was gone replaced by smooth sound of classic Jazz.  
\par \tab "Imagine," I said, "A hot summers evening in New Orleans. You  stand outside a seedy Jazz club in the French Quarter, sweat in your  hair, your heart in your throat." I rubbed my hands slowly over the  soft leather cups feeling the suggestion of the hard nipples  underneath. "A drunk stands by the door, his face old and leathery but  his eyes sparkle as he looks at you, a pretty white girl in a tight  leather dress. Your heart beats harder, what if you are seen by  someone who knows you? Seen, painted like a whore dressed like a slut  in a borrowed dress. What would happen to you if the word got back to  your father?" 
\par \tab I heard her ragged panting and knew that it was working, her  eyelids flickered like someone almost asleep. 
\par \tab "Better to be inside," I hissed, "Better that than be caught  out on the street." She took a few hesitant steps forward, I matched  the movement. "Your heels click on the sidewalk, slut heels, painful  heels but your friend Brenda who lent you the outfit says they make  you look sexy, desirable. Your heart is pounding, you feel your pussy  warm as it starts to juice up in your excitement. 
\par \tab You push open the door. 
\par \tab You stand in the doorway of the bar, the music pauses but only  for an instant. This bar has seen white sluts before, will do again.  Your eyes scan the room looking for him, the one for whom you've taken  this risk. Your eyes fall on black face after black face as they look  at you, your heart pounds harder. Your mother told you what can happen  to a white girl in a place like this and here you are, dressed as a  cheap slut, begging for it." 
\par \tab She moaned and twisted her body to one side as if she were  looking for someone. I could hardly believe how suggestible she was.  This would make her conditioning so much easier. For now I continued  with the fantasy. 
\par \tab "Suddenly you see him, his colorful shirt so different from  the overalls he wore this morning when he was clearing your garden. He  stands by the bar, holding a trumpet in his strong brown fingers  waiting to go on. He looks up and sees you, his warm brown eyes  drinking you in. The heat in your pussy increases, your breath becomes  ragged. Then you see her, the half-caste girl handing him a drink. Her  legs are strong and oh so long, her tight white dress clings to her  body like a second skin. Brown ringlets frame such a beautiful face,  but her eyes look at you with contempt. Just another white whore, and  you know it's true, that you came here like a painted slut for a night  of forbidden passion with him. Now she has him by the arm, sliding her  thigh up his leg, looking at you daring you to compete with her. You  have to cross that floor, cross it in a way that will make him want  you, make him fuck you, end the torment." 
\par \tab Then she started walking, the slow sleek, seductive walk of a  sexy woman on the prowl. Her hips quaked and I could imagine what that  was doing to the Ben Wa balls in that hot pussy. Yet though it all her  upper body stayed erect and regal as she slinked forward.  
\par \tab I'd got what I wanted I had intended to end it there, but she  looked so intense striding purposefully forward with her eyes closed  that I felt the need to go on. I slipped in front of her and caught  her in my arms. 
\par \tab "Hey baby, what are you doin' here?" 
\par \tab "I had to come, please don't send me away." 
\par \tab I slid my hand over her leather flank, she responded by moving  her leg up stroking my thigh with hers. 
\par \tab "You are one sexy bitch." I ran my fingers along her thigh  ending by tracing the outline of her pussy lips through the tape on  her snatch. She gasped and trembled a little. 
\par \tab "Man you're hot," I kissed her, "Hey babe I keep a room here,  maybe me an' you?" 
\par \tab She moaned which I took to mean yes so I lead her back towards  the cell. Once there I caressed her, using the opportunity to loosen  the corset. Opening my pants I pulled her to me, seized the tape that  gagged her hot snatch and tore it free. She gave a little gasp, I  think I was right about the stubble, then the drawstrings came tight  and the Ben Wa balls popped out. By now she was quaking and I was very  hard. I lay down positioning her on top and she trust down, her hot  damp hole enveloping my shaft in one velvet swallow. 
\par \tab Then she clamped down hot and tight on my throbbing cock. With  her hands still hammerlocked behind her I was forced to steady her  hips as she moved slowly up and down. 
\par \tab She moved faster and faster and as her passion built so did  her volume. Up until now she had always been gagged when I fucked her  and as her sharp animal cries increased I was tempted to reach up and  shove the pad gag into her mouth. Of course to do so would need much  more willpower than I could have mustered right then. Pleasure flooded  my brain and from the wild look on her face I'd say most of her higher  brain functions were paralyzed too. So we rutted and screamed like two  wild animals until finally I exploded and she came, the two event's  separated by less than a heartbeat. Without her hands to hold her up  she collapsed on top of me exhausted. We panted together for a second  or so my cock still deep inside her. 
\par \tab Then she looked up at me a tear in her eye and said, "Oh Josh,  I'm so sorry." For a second I was confused, thinking she was talking  to me. Then I realized. 
\par \tab "Who's Josh?" I asked softly. 
\par \tab "He was my boyfriend." 
\par \tab "Was?" 
\par \tab "He's dead." 
\par \tab "I'm sorry," And I genuinely was. She seemed a little  uncomfortable and managed to move over to one side, I slipped out.  
\par \tab "What happened?" 
\par \tab "Hunting accident," She said and I felt her shiver. 
\par \tab "If you want to talk about it..." 
\par \tab She went to shake her head but of course that was impossible  so in the end she whispered "No, thank you Master." 
\par \tab I felt overjoyed, she had used the word "Master" totally  naturally as if she had accepted the situation. I decided to test this  further. 
\par \tab "Who are you?" I asked brushing my hands over her leather  flanks and down over her ass. 
\par \tab "I am your slave," She whispered. 
\par \tab "Louder." 
\par \tab "I am.... your slave." 
\par \tab "Who am I?" I asked, my voice warm and kind like a parent  helping a child prepare for a pop quiz. 
\par \tab "You are my master," She replied, no hesitation or hint of  self consciousness. 
\par \tab "What are you?" 
\par \tab "I am a s...sex slave. I use my body to give pleasure to my  master or any others he commands." 
\par \tab I felt my throat tighten, I knew the next question held part  of the answers I sought. It was a question I had never answered.  
\par \tab "Why did I choose you?" 
\par \tab She looked down, "Because I am a victim," she said. 
\par \tab Chapter 8: Stories of Death 
\par \tab Then she started to cry, her body shaking, the tears flowing  like rain. I held her, tried to do what I could to calm her down, but  it was no good. I admit I felt a little guilty thinking that the  stress of the kidnapping was finally coming out. I pulled her close  feeling the warm smoothness of the leather corset against my skin. She  started to mumble something and as I listened I gradually came to  realise that this had nothing to do with the kidnapping or with me.  
\par \tab I understand grief through bitter experience. It is a slow  subtle poison. If you try to bury it or run from it then the  loneliness and pain get a power over your life and they start to eat  away at your soul. 
\par \tab I loved my grandfather, he had been a strong generous man  always willing to help a neighbor or a grandson prone to trouble. In  our community he had held a special place, never elected to any  office, never qualified in any profession yet somehow always the one  people turned to in times of crisis. He was if anything the perfect  human being, a strong man who didn't pick on the weak, a proud man  always willing to admit when he was wrong. During the long hot Indiana  summers of my boyhood we had walked and talked and fished, all the  things boys and grandfathers are supposed to do together.  \tab Then in my senior year at High School he died, no illness, no  warning just one day I came home from school and found my mother  crying in the kitchen. The shock and the grief hit her all at once and  she was never quite the same again. As for me? Well one of the  constants in my life was missing and the pain was worse than anything  my young mind could imagine. Then I did a foolish thing. My parents  had always treated me as an adult and I was graduating High School at  the age of fifteen. So I tricked myself into thinking that I was an  adult and bottled the grief inside so as not to upset my mother any  further. I played the dutiful son and buried my feelings so deep that  when it was all over and I wanted to cry I found I couldn't. That  feeling stayed bottled up eating away at my guts every day for eight  long years. Then late one night as I lay alone in a hotel room in San  Francisco all that burst to the surface and I cried all night.  
\par \tab I don't know what had happened after Josh died but I know that  Caroline hadn't dealt with it. She'd buried that grief as I had and it  had lurked in the back of her mind. Now it had picked it's time and  place finding that moment of weakness as it had in that dark hotel  room in San Francisco. I held her shaking body encouraged her to  scream into the privacy of the soundproofed room and waited for the  storm to pass. She spoke a little between the sobs and with some  gentle encouragement I persuaded her to tell me their story.  
\par \tab She had known Josh Petersson all her life. The Petersson's  were a local farming family who had lived in this backwoods part of  Iowa since great grandfather Olof came from Scandinavia in the  eighteen nineties. They lived close enough to the Reverend Conway and  his family to be considered neighbors. They shared barbecues in the  summer, exchanged gifts in the winter, attended the good Reverend's  church and involved themselves in local fund raising. Josh was three  years older than Caroline and had voted himself the title of honorary  big brother. She had grown up with him always about but never really  saw him as anything but a friend. 
\par \tab Then when she was fourteen he had asked her out on a date. It  seemed to have come without warning and I got the feeling that she had  accepted almost by reflex. Almost accidentally she had fallen into the  relationship, then deliberately she fell in love. Knowing that her  father would not approve, she had kept their romance a secret. Over  that summer they had seen each other more and more, meeting in  private, lying to friends trying to keep the truth away from the tell  tales and gossips common to all small towns. As she was underage they  had agreed to limit themselves to oral sex and heavy petting until her  sixteenth birthday. For six months they had done what kids do and I  think these were the happiest weeks of her young life. 
\par \tab Then Josh started to busy himself on some project. He was  unavailable most weekends and would not tell her why. She became  jealous, and started to think he had another girl. When she finally  confronted him he'd just laughed and asked her to meet him at a small  empty cottage on his father's land. His family called it "Patrick's  House" and his grandfather had built it for his parents when they were  first married. She had been there before of course, it was one of the  few places were they had any privacy. This time she went with some  trepidation thinking that perhaps he wanted to break up. Instead he  surprised her with an engagement ring on a silver chain she could wear  it around her neck and a promise of marriage. Then they walked through  the empty rooms looking at the work he'd done to make it their home  and planned their new life together. 
\par \tab It had started to rain so they couldn't leave immediately. The  moment had seemed so perfect that she took him by the hand and led him  upstairs and they made love for the first time one week before her  fifteenth birthday. 
\par \tab It took a lot of coaxing to get her to tell me about his  death. I knew from experience that it was necessary, that if she  didn't get it in the open it would continue to haunt her. It was  painful and she cried like a child as she went through his last day.  They'd had a fight, he'd wanted to formally ask her father. She had  said no. Angry words were said then he'd stormed off. He'd apparently  gone hunting, something he did quiet often when he needed to think,  when he didn't return this family sent out search parties. They had  found him at the bottom of a dirt bank in a lonely wood. She told me  how he had slipped and fell shooting himself in the process then bleed  to death unable to climb out again. At that moment she broke down  completely, it took another hour before she was cried out. I held her  until the end encouraging her to let it go providing the physical  comfort a person needs at that time. When she finished she was weak  and emotionally drained. 
\par \tab I took off the posture collar and replaced it with the usual  one. I had intended to remove the corset and boots but right now she  needed to sleep. I attached the wire and freed her hands. Then I  gently dried her face and brushed her hair aside. 
\par \tab "Thank you," She said. 
\par \tab "What for?" 
\par \tab "For listening." 
\par \tab I smiled. 
\par \tab "Comes with the territory, " I said, "If you can't talk to  your master who can you talk to?" I pantomimed looking around the room  for some other person and discovering only myself there. She smiled,  and I knew she was going to be all right. I turned to leave but at the  door on impulse I stopped and looked back. 
\par \tab "Who are you?" I asked gently. 
\par \tab "A slave for your pleasure, Master." 
\par \tab I looked into her large blue eyes. Tomorrow when she'd had  chance to recover it may be different but at that one vulnerable  moment I think she really believed what she was saying, at that moment  she really was my slave. 
\par \tab The night was still relatively young so I busied myself  preparing my laptop for the trip. About twelve I made a hot drink and  settled into my favorite chair. A quick check on Caroline showed her  asleep, a calm almost radiant look on her face. It looked as if the  release of all than angst had done her some good. It really had been a  roller coaster ride tonight and as I sipped my cocoa I went back  through the events to look for a trigger. 
\par \tab There was the sex of course. This time it had seemed much  stronger than before. I'd been overwhelmed by the power of it all.  Tonight she'd been somehow sexier, more vibrant than on previous  occasions. I tried to find a reason why, when we'd had sex before she  had seemed to enjoy it and I knew for a fact that she'd orgasmed so  what was so different this time? I knew that if I kept her excited  long enough she would throw away her inhibitions when we finally  fucked. In fact when the time came she was now an enthusiastic  partner. I may have been keeping her here against her will, but there  could no longer be any doubts that the sex was consensual.  
\par \tab Of course I didn't kid myself. I kept Caroline tied and  frustrated for most of the day, by the time we fucked she was  desperate, her body crying out for relief. When I offer to fuck her of  course she co-operates as she would with a vibrator or a wine bottle.  I could see that from Caroline's point of view sex with me was just a  way to for a girl to masturbate with her hands tied. 
\par \tab Then I remembered the little "I'm sorry Josh" line she'd said.  Did she feel unfaithful to his memory? I could force her to have sex,  I could even make her body betray her so that she enjoyed it but I  couldn't make her invest any emotion in it. Was that the answer? Had  sex meant something more than pleasure to her this time? Had the guilt  of that discovery burst the dam wall of all that pent up grief? I  didn't know and felt not for the first time that a degree in  psychology would be more useful right now. Then I remembered  Caroline's textbooks still sitting in the back room of my garage  awaiting the furnace. Perhaps the answer was in there? I decided to  rescue them and find out. Now though it was time for bed so I started  the dishwasher and headed upstairs. I settled down and for the first  time that I could remember I had a dream. 
\par \tab It started in the parlour of my father's hardware store. I  think I was about ten and it was one of those timeless Indiana summers  that I remembered so fondly. Long hot dusty days with school a distant  memory, and the smell of the corn fields on the breeze. Then a sudden  cut and I was out in the street chasing after Grandpah trying not to  drag the fishing pole he gave me in the dirt, wanting him to slow  down; but never wanting to admit I was too young to keep up.  
\par \tab We sat fishing and talked as we had so long ago, and though  part of me knew he was dead, I was filled again by the joy of his  presence. I could have stayed there forever, but for some reason he  sent me back to the house to pick up some fruit we'd forgotten. As I  headed back towards the path something drifted into my view.......  
\par \tab .....Caroline floated above. She was naked but for a large  number of thin leather straps, each about the width of a boot lace  that bound her legs together and her arms at her sides. I paused for a  moment, shocked to see her in such an idyllic place. I noticed that  the straps were very tight, her hands and feet were blue and bloated.  One strap ran up through her shaved pussy and disappeared between her  cunt lips. This seemed so tight that it almost cut her in two. A  seemingly endless flow of blood trickled down her exposed thigh.  
\par \tab She was looking at me, big blue eyes above the wide padded  strap that gagged her. Much to my surprise there was non of the  accusing looks she normally gave me. Instead she had a rather pained  expression, eyes slightly puffy like she had wept for a long time. I  found myself opening the big knife my grandfather had given me and I  nervously stepped forward. Bringing the knife to the crotch strap I  cut the thin leather lace above her pussy and started to pull it from  between her cunt lips. Much to my surprise it refused to budge. I  pulled harder and was shocked when a large ball of the leather cord  popped out of her hole. Almost immediately she started to thrash and  moan behind her gag and I realised she was orgasming. More blood  poured down her body as the straps literally cut her limbs. I felt  frightened but somehow stepped forward. Her rapid motion caused her to  slip from my grasp and a found her drifting off in the wind like a  bizarre fetish balloon.... 
\par \tab I followed but whenever I approached she just seemed to drift  further and further away........ In the end I started running but just  as I caught up with her she squealed and rolled herself into a  ball....... I closed in, making comforting noises and after quite a  struggle managed to undo the buckle on the gag strap. However as I  pulled it from her face I became aware of the blood encrusted on it. I  looked down and cringed for beneath the gag her lips had been sown  together with stitch after stitch of the foul leather cord........  
\par \tab I woke with a start. Was this the dream that I'd had the night  before? All I knew was that I was shaking. It took me almost an hour  to calm down and start to think rationally of the images in my mind. I  felt sure of one thing, the dream was somehow significant; my  subconscious was trying to alert me to something. I thought at first  it was guilt, but Caroline's bonds had been horrific, the sick work of  a sadist and though I may be many things I wasn't that. I admit that  I'm a control freak and that I use pain to get that control but I  don't revel in it and I don't use it for its own sake. So what did it  mean? 
\par \tab A quick video check found her still asleep. It was dawn and I  didn't feel like sleeping again so I put on a pot of coffee and went  into my office. There underneath one of my computer tables was the box  of important papers I'd taken from Caroline's apartment. I should have  moved it into the dungeon some time ago; there is little point hiding  the slave and leaving boxes of her stuff just lying around. For now  though I just reached into the box and pulled out the picture album. I  spent about half an hour going through it I knew what I wanted should  be there. I carefully picked though page after page of Christmas's,  birthdays, and Thanksgivings with no luck. In the end I found it  tucked away in a little wallet like thing inside the back cover.  
\par \tab It was a picture of Josh and Caroline. 
\par \tab Of course he looked young, he'd died when he was seventeen, a  tall friendly looking boy his Scandinavian heritage evident in this  lanky frame and dirty blonde hair. He looked nice but dull. The  standard all American kid, not smart enough to be a nerd not athletic  enough to be a jock. The kind of kid who somehow just makes it through  life. 
\par \tab Except this one hadn't. 
\par \tab She looked young and very happy, caught in that spontaneous  moment that was either reality or Pearson. For I while I tried to  imagine what their life together would have been like if he'd  survived. One thing seemed clear Caroline wouldn't have been an  unwilling guest in my basement. I could almost see her dragging a  dusty faced blonde daughter around that cottage in Iowa, with perhaps  another child on the way. Even when times were tough I got the feeling  they would be happy. Josh Petersson and Caroline Conway; a future that  didn't happen. 
\par \tab Time to make breakfast. I figured she'd have quite an appetite  when she awoke so I started into a more lavish spread than normal.  Soon I'd have to start controlling her calorie intake and arrange for  some exercise or the enforced inactivity would start to have its  effects on her waistline. For now I indulged her with a meal designed  as much to comfort as to feed. By seven it was ready and I went  downstairs to collect her. She blinked in surprise as I woke her. Up  until then I'd waited until she was awake before fetching her. Her  face was still red and tearstained so after she had used the toilet I  freed her hands and had her wash up. 
\par \tab The rest was almost a ritual. I refastened her hands, attached  the leash and led her to the table. Once there she sat on my lap while  I fed her by hand. I'd found that I liked feeding her, like having a  gag always dangling about her neck it was a constant reminder who was  in charge, who had the power in this relationship. I was pleased to  see her eating well and I could feel her strength returning. This time  I dispensed with the syrup trick, I needed this outfit in good  condition for the next posture session. So after fastening the collar  to an overhead wire I released her and told her to strip. She did in  an almost mechanical way and I could see there was something on her  mind. 
\par \tab I admit to having something planned too and as she wiggled out  of the leather I was positioning the photofloods to point at one of  the restraintless walls. She watched silently as I retrieved some  clothes from the wardrobe. Walking over I threw them on the table.  
\par \tab "Put these on, everything but the gloves." She complied  quickly and I stood back to admire the result. The outfit was not that  much different from what she had worn on her first night. A shiny  black latex halter top came first. The rubber was ribbed to give it a  corset like effect. It hugged her upper body pushing her tits up and  out in a pleasing way while leaving her stomach bare. Next came a  matching black latex garter belt, I'd removed the elastic so it was  really only being used as a sash to cover the area between her hips  and her shaved pubis. The latex boots which came to the top of her  creamy thighs were little more than thigh high latex stockings with  five inch heels attached, they tied at the top and hugged her legs  like a second skin. At this point I had her stop and apply makeup as  directed. The last time I'd been concerned with her having a natural  look so her makeup had been underplayed. Now I wanted the young vamp  look, lot's of makeup but applied in a way that still left her looking  young and fresh. I selected a baby doll pink lipstick and blusher  combination and waited for her to apply it. 
\par \tab "More photo's?" She asked. 
\par \tab "Yep, Slave's gota earn her keep." I could tell she wanted to  say something but she seemed to change her mind and instead did what I  asked. I brushed her hair back into a ponytail. Much as I liked it  long I could tell that she was going to have to have it bobbed. Truth  was that long hair was hard to keep looking good without regular  styling, something I couldn't do easily myself. I figured I'd keep it  like this for a couple of weeks and then I'd have to do something  about it. 
\par \tab She finished up with a long pair of latex gloves which she  pulled up her arms as I finished prepping the camera. Now there was  only one thing left to do. With my fingers mentally crossed I put a  pair of earrings and a choker on the table and removed the collar.  Caroline was now completely free for the first time since I took her.  She seemed a little shocked and I noticed her glance fleetingly at the  dungeon door. 
\par \tab "It's locked," I said while I fiddled with the tripod. "You'd  need a torch to cut through it. Now put on the jewellery and stand  over by the wall." 
\par \tab She dragged her eyes away from the door and started to put on  the earrings. Remembering the lessons from yesterday she attempted to  slink over to the wall. However it became obvious that she missed the  ankle support of the leather boots and twice she almost fell.  Eventually she made it to the wall and stood awaiting instructions.  
\par \tab First I had her stand with her legs slightly crossed, hands on  hips, pouting slightly. The shot was nice, immediately establishing  her as a young rubber slut. As I'd hoped the crossing of her legs had  forced her thighs hard together and the latex boots, gloved hands and  garter belt formed a black latex frame for the triangle of her shaved  cunt. Her breasts strained against the rubber in a most appealing way  and the look on her face just screamed fuck me. I knew immediately  that this first shot was a "Pearson" and it seemed like a good omen  for the rest of the session. 
\par \tab Next up I had her face the wall then press herself against it  like a criminal being frisked. I took a shot but the composition  lacked something. I had her spread her legs more and I tried another.  Still not quite right so I had her turn her upper body slightly so  that I could see her face in profile. This worked much better so after  repositioning her hands and head I took the final shot. To my mind  this picture looks like a raid on a brothel. A young slut is thrown  against the wall still dressed in her fetishwear, her long mane of  blond hair almost down to her bare behind. She half turns towards the  young rookie cop left to guard her and makes her proposition. If he  looks the other way and lets her escape she'll be so grateful. She  only does this to pay her way through college, her mother would die if  she knew. If he lets her go she'll meet him later and show her  gratitude.... 
\par \tab For the next shot I had her lie down her hot ass stuck up  towards the camera. I took a number of different shots with her  looking back over her ass towards the camera. I tried a number of  different expressions from surprise though lust to fear. The shot that  finally worked for me was one were I had her twist her body slightly  towards the camera and prop her head up with her gloved hand. The  clothes, the pose, the look all tell you this is a hot cunt just  looking for a fucking and the picture wasn't lying. Looking into  Caroline's eyes I could see that the sexual addiction I'd tried so  hard to establish was finally taking hold. She was wanting it bad  which gave me an idea. 
\par \tab I had her stand and using the remote I programmed a track into  the sound system. 
\par \tab "Now slave we are going to try something freeform. I want you  to interpret the music for me just do whatever you feel." She looked  unsure so remembering my experience from last night I suggested that  she closed her eyes. 
\par \tab "Ok slave I want you to imagine this. You are still a student,  and have one day to get enough money to pay your rent or you loose the  apartment. One of your friends has told you of a club she works at  when times are tough. She says that they always need dancers and that  a girl willing to work at it can make some good money. You asked the  owner but he thinks you are too dowdy and plain. You beg you are so  desperate and in the end he gives you a trial; if you get a good  response from his customers he'll give you the job." 
\par \tab I could see her trembling, one latex covered hand had made  it's way down to her crotch and she was already rubbing the slick palm  against her hot lips. Encouraged I continued. 
\par \tab "You look through the wardrobe, they have all sorts of things,  nurses and cops uniforms, bathing suits but realising that you have to  make a good impression you pick the riskiest outfit you can find. It's  slick black rubber and it clings to your body like a second skin. You  can feel it's touch, smell the scent of hot rubber mixed with the  sweat of all the other girls who have worn it. Can you feel it slave?"  
\par \tab "Yes," She whispered. Her other hand had found her tits and a  finger was doing an orbit of the bump made by one of her erect  nipples. She was breathing heavily and I could tell she was almost  ready. 
\par \tab "You're standing in the wings waiting to go on. There are  about thirty men in tonight most of them middle aged business men. You  see your friend dancing naked at one guy's table a bundle of  greenbacks clutched in one hand. She thrusts a tit almost in his face  and he's going crazy 'cos he isn't allowed to touch. Now it's your  turn, the manager passes you as he goes on to make the announcement.  He nods and makes encouraging noises. You feel nervous as you step out  feeling all those eyes on you. You stand ready knowing that your  future rests on the next ten minutes." 
\par \tab I punched the play button and the hidden speakers hummed into  life. There was a throbbing opening base rift and the song exploded  into the room. I'd chosen was the Divinyls track "I Touch Myself" to  start with and a couple of their others in case she kept going. The  music seized her immediately and she started to gyrate, touching  herself as she felt the need. I had a post in the room that I used for  bondage purposes and I started to wish that is was nearer. Caroline  would have made a hell of a pole dancer, she was sexy, seductive and  even with her eyes closed she looked as if she enjoyed it. I adjusted  the lights so that they shone directly at her, she would be unable to  see past them. 
\par \tab "Open your eyes sweetheart," I said. When she did I continued.  "The lights blind you but you know that beyond the glare, thirty guys  are watching you. You can feel their eyes on your skin, undressing you  even further. They all want you, you can feel their lust coming over  you in waves. Feel thirty imaginary pairs of hands caressing your  body, on your tits, on your ass, brushing your cunt." 
\par \tab She trashed around pouting seductively for the imaginary  audience caught up completely in her role. At times she was unsteady  and natural talent had to make up for her lack of technique but at  that moment she was a sex goddess and deep inside she knew it. I  watched captivated as she strutted the floor pausing to pose  suggestively or to touch herself again. 
\par \tab Then I suddenly realised that in my excitement I hadn't taken  any shots. I quickly started taking a series of her roving hands  drifting between tits and cunt. She arched her back eyes once again  closed one hand drifted up and released her hair which tumbled around  her shoulders. A quick quarter turn of her head and she flicked it out  so that the golden strands now covered her tits as well. Then as I  watched both hands drifted backwards towards the straps that held the  halter in place. It had been designed for easy removal, always a  consideration when the wearer is intended to be bound. She found the  release and it dropped away from her shoulders. One arm kept it  clutched to her body and then she started to move it rubbing it's  silky smoothness over her tits and belly. She arched her back teasing  the imaginary audience with a suggestion of breast all the time  getting the tactile stimulation from rubbing the latex against her hot  body. Finally she tossed it aside leaving her erect nipples free to be  played with. I focused in for a close-up as she took both nipples  between thumb and forefinger and gently rolled them, then she flicked  her head back and moaned. Again she arched her back and one hand  returned to her dripping box. Using the two outer fingers to spread  the lips she started to tickle her clit. She slipped a finger inside,  then two by now the moans were rapidly becoming squeals. Two more  quick photos, one a close-up of her finger fucking herself the other  showing her enraptured face so her identity was in no doubt and I  found myself out of film. I could account for less than half of the 36  frames. Still I knew I had some hot shots and I looked forward to  seeing what else I'd taken. 
\par \tab Looking at her I could tell that she was close and I had  already decided that for the time being she should only cum by my  hand. I didn't like being a party pooper but it couldn't be helped. I  pulled a pair of handcuffs from my pocket and quietly came up behind  her. Not that being quiet was necessary the music was loud and she was  too far gone to care. I took the hand that was playing with her  nipples first, she didn't resist I don't think she even noticed as I  closed the cuff around it. Pulling it down behind her I grabbed the  other wrist. Now she resisted, she was so close she would have killed  at that moment. Still I was stronger and in a better position so after  a brief struggle I managed to cuff the other wrist in place. She  moaned and started to rub her thighs together. When that didn't work  she turned and started rubbing her cunt against the thigh of my  leather pants, I twisted her around. I had intended to deny her an  orgasm and keep her wanting it for the rest of the day but she had  danced so well I decided to give her a break. I twisted her to face  me, pulling her close until I felt one erect nipple embed itself in my  chest. Grabbing a handful of hair I twisted her head until she was  looking into my eyes. Then very deliberately I slowly finger fucked  her with my free hand. One finger tickled her clit as I thrust another  as deep as I could inside her. She clamped down squeezing the finger  tightly. Leaving my thumb to work on the nub I thrust two more fingers  inside and was rewarded by a gasp as she trust her hips towards me.  Then I slowly brought her off, listening to her cries as the decibel  level rose. All the time I was watching her emotions though the lust  glazed windows of her eyes. First came need mixed with a little  embarrassment. As she came closer the need started to take over  completely and her cunt started to clamp down even harder on my  leather covered fingers. Next came a look of rapture which coincided  with the spasm my fingers felt deep inside her. Then she gave a look  of fulfilment, a deep sigh and then she smiled in a dreamy way. For a  second there was something new and something totally unexpected. For  an instant before she broke my gaze there was something that just  possibly could be love. 
\par \tab I brought my gloved hand up to her mouth and had her suck the  fingers clean. This took longer than I'd thought and her little tongue  movements were deliberately suggestive. It also seemed that she liked  the smell of pussy juice and leather which is useful when you are  trying to make a girl into a leather slut. I lead her back to the  table and replaced the collar fastening it again to one of the chains  over the table. I freed her hands and for a moment considered  retrieving the halter. In the end I left her topless and busied myself  tidying up the dungeon. She sat on the edge of the table licking the  juices from her fingers deep in thought. In the end I had to know.  
\par \tab "Ok out with it Slave." 
\par \tab "Sorry Master?" 
\par \tab "The little speech you're composing right now, I want to hear  it." 
\par \tab She took a deep breath, "My college tuition, it's a 
\par scholarship." I must have looked surprised, certainly that wasn't what  I'd expected her to say. It seemed as relevant to what had just  happened as the gross national product of Guam. 
\par \tab "So?" I asked. 
\par \tab "If I let it lapse then I won't get another opportunity. I  know you intend to keep me for some time, perhaps for years but sooner  or later you'll get tired of me and let me go. I want a future Master,  I want an education." 
\par \tab "So?" I must have sounded really stupid but the conversation  was so incredible I was lost for words. 
\par \tab She took another deep breath then said the rest in one  breathless sentence so as not to give me chance to interrupt. "If you  let me go back I'll be your slave. I won't tell anyone about what  happened. Please! During term time I'll be available any time you call  and I will happily return here during any breaks or holidays. After I  graduate you can keep me here as long as you want, I won't try to  escape, I'll do anything you want." 
\par \tab I looked into her eyes, there was a look of sincerity there  that told me she was serious. I should have told her were to get off  straight away but the evil part of my mind decided to play.  
\par \tab "Lets discuss this further," I said. "For the sake of argument  lets say I was disposed to agree to this. When you say anything I want  what do you mean?" 
\par \tab "Anything," She said flatly, "Anything at all." 
\par \tab I stood suddenly, she flinched, stood and stepped back as far  as the tether would allow. Perhaps she though I was about to hit her.  "Suppose I want piercings," I said remembering her reaction last time.  "Perhaps a little silver ring here and here." I touched her nipples  which became erect almost immediately. She breathed in quickly but  despite being unbound she made no attempt to stop me. "Perhaps one or  two down here as well." My finger lightly brushed her pussy lips. She  gasped, though it was unclear if this was in response to the words or  the touch. 
\par \tab "If that's what you want." She said eyes blazing. 
\par \tab "How about a brand?" I asked innocently, "Something to mark  you as mine, let those horny college boy's know that they are messing  with someone else's property." I could feel her stiffen. 
\par \tab "How about here," I said indicating a spot just above her  right nipple. A bra or regular dress would hide it, but itsy bitsy  bikini's or dresses with radical necklines would be out. 
\par \tab She swallowed, "Fine..." 
\par \tab Now I was intrigued I wanted to know just how far she would  go. "How about a baby," I said, "A son to carry on the family name.  You'd have to sign over complete custody rights to me of course..."  \tab She nodded accepting even that and I realised then that she  was serious. I was stunned, never in all my plans had I envisioned  this. I was so surprised that I continued almost on auto pilot.  
\par \tab She said, "What if it's a girl?" 
\par \tab "Huh? Then we try again," I said off hand. 
\par \tab "And the child?" 
\par \tab I was starting to get irritated, I needed to think so my  darkside furnished a viscous answer. "I'm not interested in girls.  I'll take a boy child. If it's a girl you can look after it yourself,  I don't want to be stuck with your bastards." 
\par \tab It was a lie of course, as children girls are far more  interesting than boys. You can have an intelligent if somewhat bizarre  conversation with a little girl from the age of three or four. A boy  of that age is barely articulate. If at some time in the future my  slave were to give me a daughter the little tyke would have no trouble  twisting me around her little finger. My answer was through irritation  and I really didn't expect what happened next. 
\par \tab The effect on her was like a physical blow. She gave a little  wailing sound then she attempted to roll herself into a ball. Her legs  started to collapse under her and she fell like a stone. Under normal  situations it would be dramatic but she was chained to the ceiling at  the neck and the chain was short. I moved forward but being  preoccupied I wasn't fast enough. There came a twang as the chain  pulled tight followed almost instantly by a sharp crack sound and my  heart leapt to my throat.  
\par \tab Chapter 9: Meeting Maggie 
\par \tab And strangely enough it was my geekyness that saved her.  
\par \tab I'm a geek, a fact I freely admit that to anyone who would  want to listen. I'm the guy who actually buys things from the gadget  catalogues you find on airplanes. Lot's of things that I own have  computers in them even ones that don't really need them. It's hardly  surprising then that when I came to build a dream house it was a  "smart building". I could talk at length about optical packet busses  and redundant control but is enough to say that one machine is  dedicated to the security aspects of keeping a slave. 
\par \tab Suicide was one unpleasantness that I'd been forced to  consider. Some people don't react well to being locked up. Taking  their own life is sometimes preferable and any prison warder can tell  of ingenious suicides even when the inmate was being closely watched.  When Caroline collapsed she had enough slack chain to fall perhaps 3  feet before it became taught. At the very least that could hurt as the  collar pulled tight, at worst she could break her neck. The moment the  mounting point came under load a strain gauge registered the sudden  impulse and this was sent to the computer. Now the computer  understands the difference between static and impulse loading, it will  let much more than Caroline's weight be applied to the chain but not  suddenly. In the instant she fell at a speed far faster that any human  could react the machine determined she was in danger and fired an  explosive bolt severing the mounting at the ceiling. 
\par \tab She lay on the floor winded and too surprised to do anything  as the chain landed on her. When my heart started beating again I  reached down and helped her up. With a strength I didn't know I had I  lifted her as if she was a rag doll. 
\par \tab "What the fuck is the matter with you!" I almost screamed,  "Are you trying to kill yourself." 
\par \tab "You...you said...." 
\par \tab "What the fuck does that mater!!" I shook her. For the first  time I came within a heartbeat of hitting her. She started to cry.  
\par \tab "About the baby being a GIRL." She said as if the answer was  somehow self evident. I put her on the table, my anger started to  subside. In the background part of my mind continued to analyse what  I'd discovered. The conclusion was that I'd kidnapped a mad woman. It  wasn't good but it did calm me down. 
\par \tab "A joke," I said, "That's all. If I'd realised there was  lemming blood in your family I'd have been more careful."  
\par \tab "So it's a joke?" 
\par \tab "We need to discuss this, " I said, "But not now." 
\par \tab I pushed her back against the table and locked the chain to  one of the tables mountings. I wanted her secure before I proceeded  any further. 
\par \tab "Now take the gloves off." 
\par \tab As she started to comply I went over to the cupboard and  started to root around inside. She was finished by the time I  returned. She eyed the new contraptions with some dread, she couldn't  tell how upset I was and she didn't know if this was some new torture  device. It took the treat of the crop to get her to place her hands  behind her back and hold steady while I pulled the single sleeve up  her arms. When it reached the top I buckled the top strap and replaced  her collar with the posture collar already attached to the sleeve.  Next came five minutes of tightening numerous straps. When I finished  I stepped back to admire my handiwork. 
\par \tab Houdini once said that straight jackets were easy to overcome  once you realised that they were designed to hold crazy people. This  creation from a fetish supplier in England made no such mistakes, made  from black leather with buckles everywhere it left no room for escape.  She was still struggling with it when I went to phase 2. First, I  again placed her hair in a ponytail. Then I reached for a nest of  straps on the table. She didn't know what most of it was for but she  could guess were the rubber ball was going. 
\par \tab "Please?" 
\par \tab "Open!" I commanded in no mood to be messed around. 
\par \tab She hesitated but not for long and I pushed the large rubber  ball firmly into her mouth. For some reason they call this a ball gag  trainer, despite the fact that it is considerably better designed than  a ball gag. As well as the usual ball and strap there is a harness  that attaches to the strap then runs either side of the victims nose  to buckle at the back of the head. A second strap passes under the  chin to force the jaw tightly closed around the ball. It is very  effective and has the added advantage that once locked in place it  can't be worked free even if the victim has the use of her hands.  Yesterdays fiasco would not happen again. Once everything was strapped  and locked I decided to keep her entertained and distracted. I showed  her what I had in mind, a vibrator and harness just as inescapable as  the rest of the bondage. It had an added twist, a block of tiny rubber  fingers that fastened over the clit and which the designers claimed  increased the stimulation without improving the chances of achieving  orgasm. This seemed like a good time to test it out. 
\par \tab There was a bit of a struggle getting it locked in place but  when it was finished the harness looked just like a tight pair of  latex panties. The only exception was the speed control knob which  jutted out between her legs. Reaching down I set her to simmer, and  listened to the small moans that escaped from behind the gag.  
\par \tab The head harness had a number of additional components which  I'd put in my pocket I quickly retrieved the blindfold section and  fastened it over her eyes using the snap fasteners provided. She just  stood and shivered as I completed my preparations. She didn't resist  as I fastened a pair of leg irons to her booted ankles. I looked down  and started to breath again, she'd been made safe. I didn't know what  all that was about but I was sure that there was no way she could hurt  herself now. I took her back to the cell, she started to whimper and  tried to say something. The trainer had been modified so that I didn't  need to remove it to get at the ball. I gently unlocked a small  padlock, undid a couple of buckles and popped the ball free.  
\par \tab "Please," She said, "I'm sorry I didn't mean....." 
\par \tab "You have one minute to furnish an explanation, or you are on  punishment Slave." 
\par \tab "Please, I can't." 
\par \tab "Who are you?" I demanded. 
\par \tab "A ss..slave Master." 
\par \tab "What do slaves do?" 
\par \tab "Give pleasure to my Master and all others he designates."  
\par \tab Which was true but not what I wanted her to say. 
\par \tab "What is rule number one." 
\par \tab "Obey first time, every time." 
\par \tab "And if a slave doesn't." 
\par \tab Her lip trembled, "She is punished." 
\par \tab "So I'm giving you a direct order, I want you to tell me what  this is about right now!" 
\par \tab She paused, even with her eyes and most of her face covered I  could see a conflict underway. 
\par \tab At last she said, "It was what you said about a baby girl."  
\par \tab I smiled, though of course she couldn't see it. "What of it  Slave," I said, "As Master that is my right!" 
\par \tab It was the wrong thing to say. She started crying again. I  tried to get though but is was no good. In the end I attached the wire  and left her sobbing on the bed. 
\par \tab I now knew absolutely that there was something wrong. Her  reactions hadn't been right from the beginning. Her sudden mood  swings, her lack of backbone and now this. I had a number of theories  most of which revolved around major mental illness. One thing was  certain I was going to need expert help. 
\par \tab I made two calls. First I called Vicky at work. I explained  that a last minute personal problem had come up and that I'd have to  postpone things for a week. She seemed disappointed until I offered to  pay her for the cancelled session and take her to lunch to discuss  future plans. Next I called an old college friend, much to my relief  she had most of the afternoon off so I arranged to meet her at a bar  we both knew. I made my preparations, gave Caroline a drink and helped  her to the toilet. She was silent though out and I said as little as  possible. Then satisfied that she would be all right for the next few  hours I left. 
\par \tab Vicky worked as a Dental Hygienist in a section of town that  didn't have many good restaurants. I'd arranged to meet her outside  the front of her building then go to a little bistro I knew. As she  walked towards the car I knew I'd made a good choice. She was almost  exactly Caroline's height and build. Instead of Caroline's mane of  golden blond hair she had a short mousy bob and they didn't look much  alike in the face, but all in all I was satisfied. Any of the outfits  I had bought should fit with little difficulty and most importantly in  a blond wig and wearing Caroline's clothes they would be 
\par indistinguishable in long shot. 
\par \tab Once we were at the restaurant I showed her my portfolio,  shot's I'd taken with Andy Pearson using some of his models. I had a  few photo's taken in Paris last year; Sam, Jean Paul and me, the two  of us chatting with Claudia. I'm not usually a name dropper but this  was the girl's first modelling job and I felt the need to convince her  that I wasn't some random freak. I paid her and apologized again then  we ordered. 
\par \tab She had a pleasing if somewhat dull personality and tended to  limit conversations to subjects she felt comfortable with. For the  first part of the meal the subject of teeth made up a large part of  the discussion. Then I lucked out and discovered she had a liking for  motorcycles. This was more up my alley and the second half of the meal  was more entertaining. I said my goodbyes, promised to call and headed  for Boston. 
\par \tab Mike's is one of the hidden gems of Boston night life. Those  who know it call it the real "Cheers" a quiet unassuming Irish  American bar with a loyal clientele which doesn't feel the need to  advertize or cash in on the tourist trade. The regulars keep it their  little secret and to be accepted there feels as much a privilege as  being a member of some exclusive gentlemen's club. Mike's draws most  of it's regulars from the academic staff of the local universities. No  one knows how that came about but I suspect that it is far enough away  from any of the colleges to be outside undergraduate stagger range.  This allows the professors chance to meet, talk and drink without the  risk of student interruption. I arrived early and bought the first  round planting myself in my usual booth and waited. A number of  regulars passed and a few stopped to chat and the business of Mike's  flowed around me. I was part way through the Globe crossword when a  damp figure noisily shook her umbrella next to me. 
\par \tab I glanced up, "Hello Maggie, is it raining?" 
\par \tab "No," She said, "I just like carrying wet umbrellas about. For  a supposedly intelligent man Richard Cody you do say some of the most  stupid things." She pointed at the pint of Guinness on the table, "Is  that mine?" When I nodded she drank it at a surprising speed. The  waitress had already seen that coming and was heading in for the next  round. 
\par \tab "Same again?" I asked. 
\par \tab "Hell no. If you asked me to drop everything and head on over  it means you've got yourself a problem and that being the case I'm on  a professional rate." She smiled at the waitress. Tell George I'll  have a brandy and ginger ale, and I want VSOP non of that cheap  rubbish. Mr Cody here tells me he's a paper millionaire lets see if we  can't make him spend some of it shall we." 
\par \tab I'd met Margaret O'Hanks during my postgraduate research. She  was a short slim redhead with wonderful green eyes and a pushy  personality. I can't remember exactly how we met but I think our  attraction was based on common need; I needed a friend and she needed  a TV set. I could virtually guarantee that three minutes before the  start of "Saturday Night Live" there would be a knock at the door and  she would just walk in sit down and watch it as if she owned the  place. She had also been my first gay friend and we spent many happy  hours cruising the bars for chicks. It hadn't done my ego any good  that she seemed better at picking up women than I was. For a time we  had shared a house forming an unlikely threesome with a tall, willowy,  bisexual blonde called Kathy. Three in a bed sessions had been quite  common though Maggie and I only ever did it together once which had  been enough to persuade her that penile sex was over rated. She was a  keen if sometimes viscous practical joker, and being her friend was no  protection. Some of her exploits had become legends yet surprisingly  she had been asked to stay on after graduation and had been there ever  since. She was now a well respected researcher in experimental  clinical psychology. As always she had guessed right, I needed advice.  
\par \tab She hung up her coat and deposited the umbrella in the stand  making it back to the booth about the same time the drink did.  
\par \tab "Keep an eye this way dear and keep them coming," She said to  the waitress who sensing a large tip in the air started to orbit a  discrete distance from our table. Maggie took a sip and then looked up  and smiled. 
\par \tab "So Cody how's the love life, finally got over the Ice Queen."  
\par \tab "Her name is Samantha." 
\par \tab "I know what her name is," She said sharply. "And I also know  that you're well rid of her. Jumped up little bitch. Some women are  made too beautiful for their own or anyone else's good." 
\par \tab "You're only saying that because she turned you down!"  
\par \tab "She was tempted boy! Little miss smarty pants likes the boys  all right but she's got an itch in her pants only another woman can  scratch." 
\par \tab I smiled, this was an old argument one, we'd started almost  twenty years ago and it was still going strong. It was Maggie's  contention that everyone was bisexual, that screaming hetros and gays  were just extremes being 90% plus in one direction or the other. She  believed that it was only social taboo that stopped people  experimenting and realising the truth. Of course she was willing to  help any girl who wanted to see if this was true, but that she claimed  did not invalidate the point. 
\par \tab I felt it was time to change the subject. 
\par \tab "Talking about itches how's things with you?" 
\par \tab A strange mixture of emotions played across her face, "I'm  thinking of becoming a nun." 
\par \tab "Why?" 
\par \tab "Hey, I've been celibate for almost nine months. If I'm going  to do without then I may as well get the recognition for it." She spat  it out with a bitterness I'd never seen before. 
\par \tab "Cheers," She downed the drink and as if by magic the waitress  appeared. "Same again." 
\par \tab "Look," I said feeling uncomfortable, "If this is a bad  time..." 
\par \tab "No, look I'm just a little pissed off right now." She gave a  deep sigh. "Last Christmas there was a bit of a scandal, girl claimed  a professor offered to fix her grades for sex. Now just about everyone  knew she was lying, the guy she accused was more interested in this  years star quarterback for one thing but the Provost's office sent  around a memo about fraternization. Well you know." 
\par \tab "And you're taking it seriously?" 
\par \tab She scowled again, "It hasn't really stopped anyone. I don't  think anyone really trades grades but there are a lot of smart young  women attending college these days. If you're getting close to a girl,  especially if she's gifted and you want to give her extra help. Well  you know." She took another sip, "Current Provost doesn't like me. Oh  he'll turn a blind eye while some of this male friends play around but  you can bet that if I so much as look at a girl." 
\par \tab I nodded. 
\par \tab "And it's so unfair," She continued, "I'm interested, she's  interested and I know that if I see her some stoolie will blow the  whistle so fast I won't even have time to take my pantyhose off." She  sat and moped for a while I could tell she was twisted up inside. I  started to wish that I'd kept in contact more, but after Sam dumped me  I was too preoccupied and the past few months had been full of  preparations for the kidnapping. 
\par \tab Eventually she looked up and smiled "Anyway what about you."  
\par \tab I was tempted to forget about it, but that would leave me with  a dysfunctional and potentially suicidal slave. So I let another round  come by before I started into my story. I couldn't tell her the  complete truth of course, Maggie was ok but I couldn't really start  with "There is this girl I kidnapped..." So instead I told her the  story I had concocted in the car on the way up. I said that I'd met a  girl called Elizabeth at a college party. That we'd been attracted and  started dating, I said that she liked bondage sex and rough trade that  we had been going steady except that she had these little incidents. I  recounted the stories as close to how they happened as possible  omitting only the non consensual nature of her imprisonment and the  existence of the dungeon. Maggie listened without saying anything but  I noticed the occasional flicker of interest most of which coincided  with details of the bondage. 
\par \tab "You think she's crazy." It was a statement and her green eyes  watched intensely. 
\par \tab "I think it's a possibility," I said, "If I hadn't made such a  bad job of tying off that rope she could have hung herself."  
\par \tab "I'd really need to see her, do a full interview." She paused,  " Look I have a little practice outside the university she could go  there." 
\par \tab I shook my head, "If she even suspects that I've spoken to a  psychiatrist she'd walk, I'm sure. She's a very private person if she  won't tell me, then god knows how she'd react to you." 
\par \tab She sipped her drink and in a quiet voice said, "Was she  abused as a child." 
\par \tab I frowned. "I don't think so. Her father was a minister," I  said hoping I hadn't given enough way that could link Caroline with  "Elizabeth". 
\par \tab "That doesn't mean anything. Nine times out of ten families  involved in incest look perfectly respectable from outside. It doesn't  even have to be a family member just someone with perceived authority  over the child. One thing to me seems telling, the girl has difficulty  attaining orgasm except when forced." 
\par \tab I scratched my head, I didn't see that but then I wasn't the  professional. 
\par \tab She glanced out of the window. It had stopped raining and was  already quite dark. A young woman was crossing the street dragging her  seven or eight year old daughter with her. For a moment I thought of  Caroline's imaginary dusty faced daughter. "Look at that child,"  Maggie said, "Assume that you wanted to have sex with her." I pulled a  face. "Look just concentrate on the practicalities. She is smaller and  weaker than you, something a lot of pedophiles find particularly  attractive. She has no chance of stopping you but when you're done  there is a problem; what if she tells. You could bribe her, but that  may not work, you could kill her but that's even worse. Threats are  much better and the best yet is to suggest to the child that they have  done something wrong. You see if you threaten to kill her or her  parents that may work, but even a child knows that you can't watch her  all the time. Sooner or later they'll feel safe enough to talk. Now  what if you tell her that she was responsible, that she was the one  that caused it and that if she is found out she will be the one  punished? Then she is never safe. The trusted adult that she may  otherwise talk to becomes a potential enemy. The rapist and the child  share a secret, one which the child believes is her fault. She  believes that any adult discovering the truth will punish her."  
\par \tab "I still don't see." I said, "Sorry if I seem a little slow  but what does this have to do with orgasms." 
\par \tab "Ever have performance anxiety Dick?" She smiled when she saw  my face. "Men's sexual wiring is fairly straight forward, stimulus,  erection ejaculation. Yet despite that a bit of emotional stress and  the whole thing shuts down. Women are far more connected emotionally  far more susceptible to emotional shutdown. Suppose that little girl  grows up, she thinks sex is dirty, evil and her fault. All the stress  and trauma get transferred to the act whenever she has sex she  associates it with that trauma and she shuts down. Now you perform a  highly symbolic mock rape one were she is told that she is nothing, a  slave with no choice, no responsibility. Do you see if she is forced  she has no responsibility. If you then demand orgasm as part of the  ritual not only is part of the opposing stimulus removed you are  adding extra incentive through threat of punishment." 
\par \tab "Seems somewhat unlikely," I said, "And it doesn't explain the  recent incident." 
\par \tab "Has she had an abortion?" 
\par \tab "Hell I don't know, it's not something that comes up in  conversation. She's a bible belter, I doubt she could find a clinic  that hadn't been burnt down." 
\par \tab "Exactly! To me that clinches it. Suppose he got her pregnant,  he knows the baby means discovery so he want's her to get rid of it.  She's been told all her life that abortion is evil so she resists. So  he threatens her, there is still a lot of stigma associated with being  an unmarried mother in some places, she's probably seen what happened  to other girls. So he tells her that her life is over if she keeps the  baby, tells her about the pointed fingers, the accusing looks."  
\par \tab The waitress swung in with yet another round. 
\par \tab "I need to see her Richard. If I'm even a little right about  what's going on here she needs at least counselling, possibly  therapy." 
\par \tab "I don't think she's ready for that. What could I do for her,  perhaps if I could start the process then she may realise she has a  problem." 
\par \tab She shook her head, "You know my feelings about amateur  psychotherapy. You're likely to do more harm than good. What you need  to do is get her to acknowledge the problem then find someone willing  to take her case. My offer still stands and you get the added benefit  that I can't hit on her if she's a patient." 
\par \tab I felt the need to extricate myself from the conversation.  
\par \tab "What else are you doing these days, at college." 
\par \tab She took the hint, "The physiology of social responsibility.  We have the use of an MRI. I'm trying to find what makes Mother  Teressa different from Ted Bundy." 
\par \tab "Oh," I said starting to wish that I hadn't changed the  subject. 
\par \tab "What we discovered is quite interesting. Sociopaths tend to  be very intelligent, fastidious beyond belief and have real difficulty  dealing with people. Bit like you in fact." 
\par \tab "Thanks," I said, "Now you must excuse me I haven't killed  someone for over an hour." 
\par \tab She rolled her eyes, "We also discovered that under an MRI  they have certain abnormal characteristics, a general change in brain  morphology. The surprising thing is that this abnormality is shared by  10 to 20% of our sample usually the more intelligent ones, yet serial  killers represent less than one percent of the general population."  
\par \tab "Great," I said, "And I didn't feel secure before." 
\par \tab "What it means is that the structure of your brain has less  impact on what you do than the conditioning it receives through life.  The Manson family for instance. When we ran tests on Charlie we found  that he was far gone, but other members even those who committed  murder would be considered normal according to the scan. It's almost  as if they somehow became an extension of Manson, playing out his  madness." 
\par \tab I started to get interested. "How is that?" 
\par \tab "It's not that uncommon actually, over time people can become  totally dependant on one another even to the point where a person is  basically just an extension of someone else. They continue to function  as individuals but act in concert with another to the point were that  persons wants and desires become more important than their own. The so  called Stockholm Syndrome is a minor manifestation. I wrote a paper on  it last year something you would know if you bothered to look me up  now and then." The hint of bitterness had returned and I was confused.  We had only ever really been close friends, given her sexual  preference that was all that we could have been. Yet she sounded like  a neglected lover. 
\par \tab "Well I have to go," I said, "Got a trip to Seattle day after  tomorrow and I still need to pack." 
\par \tab "Wait," She said and I recognised the look of need in her  eyes. 
\par \tab "Maggie? I didn't think?" 
\par \tab "Desperate times," She smiled weakly, "I have an itch. Don't  worry I won't hold it against you if the answers no." 
\par \tab "But why now?" 
\par \tab "What I said, about the child and the guilt. It wasn't  entirely from clinical experience." 
\par \tab She must have seen my shocked face. 
\par \tab "It was my uncle, both my parents worked and he was a postman.  After work he used to collect me from school and I'd stay with him  until my father came home. I always felt that was why I preferred to  do it with women, no bad associations. I can't even masturbate  properly." 
\par \tab "Oh god!" I said and I was genuinely sorry. 
\par \tab She smiled weakly, "Nine months...." 
\par \tab "What do you want?" 
\par \tab "Do what you do with her," She begged, "I think it can work.  It removes the responsability, the feeling of guilt." 
\par \tab "I can't," I said as the dark side of my brain screamed YES.  
\par \tab "Please, just this once. I won't blame you either way."  
\par \tab I looked into her eyes. "Have you done this before?"  
\par \tab She shook her head and my mind went into turmoil. She was  almost begging and it would answer some of the fantasies I'd had since  college. On the other hand I stood every chance of blowing things with  my oldest friend. 
\par \tab "If I agree there are a few ground rules. First you must call  me Master and yourself This Slut. Second for the next three hours you  are mine, you have no right to question any of my decisions. You will  obey first time every time. If you don't think you can do that walk  away. 
\par \tab She looked up. I could tell it was a struggle, if there was  anyone I knew with a dominant personality it was her. To go to being a  sub was the most dramatic change I could think of. 
\par \tab She looked up, "Master, this slut is ready." 
\par \tab "Go into the bathroom and remove your panties and hose. Put  them in your bag." She blushed but stood and headed for the ladies. I  whistled the waitress over and settled the bill. 
\par \tab She came out of the toilet so red that several people enquired  if she was all right. To look you couldn't tell that she wore no  panties but she knew and she walked very carefully again causing  comments from the others. 
\par \tab I pulled her over, "What are you doing?" 
\par \tab "Please I...." 
\par \tab "This slut!" I hissed 
\par \tab "Please, the..this slut doesn't want them to see....."  
\par \tab "They won't if you move normally. You just bought your first  punishment, if you don't put your head up and strut out of here like a  slave slut should we'll make that two." Then we left, as ordered she  took long strides with her head back and when she found that her long  skirt still hid everything she started to relax and enjoy things.  She'd taken a taxi to get here so we wandered up the rapidly drying  streets towards my car. 
\par \tab I think she thought we were off to her apartment but I had  other plans. The sex shop was not one of my usual haunts, the ones in  New York carried a better stock, but I'd made a point of finding it in  case I had any special needs. This one had a female cashier which was  not as unusual as you might think, sex shops obey the same economic  laws as your local deli. The cashier looked up from her paper as we  entered but was smart enough not to comment. My principle interest was  restraints, I didn't carry any with me in case the car was stopped.  However that night I was feeling especially generous so I browsed the  female apparel section. The choice wasn't that good mostly cheaply put  together PVC and rubber items at over inflated prices. Fortunately  Maggie was relatively small and I found a nice leather corselet that  had obviously been overlooked. I couldn't find matching gloves and  boots but cheap PVC pairs would do for now. I handed her my choice and  nodded towards the changing rooms. She blushed and started to open her  mouth to say something but catching my eye she stopped and did as she  was told. 
\par \tab While she was gone I took a pair of handcuffs, a ball gag, a  blindfold, a collar, some cuffs and a pair of nipple clamps. I had  them put rapidly into a plain bag so that she couldn't see what I'd  bought. I glanced back towards the changing room and saw a gloved hand  reach out through the curtain and beckon. Smiling I asked the cashier  for another bag which I stuffed in my pocket. 
\par \tab Pulling aside the curtain I glanced inside. The change was  astonishing, it seemed that the leather loved her body, flowing over  her torso like fine black paint. Her nipples were already very hard  and pushed uncomfortably through the peepholes cut into the cups. Down  by her crotch traces of pubic hair showed around the point were the  corselet passed between her legs. I also noticed the zipper that  passed between her legs allowing easy access without the need to  remove the whole thing. All in all I was quite taken with the design  and decided to have something similar made for Caroline. The boots and  gloves were a bit of a disappointment, but if Maggie took to this look  I could always get her a decent set for next Christmas. 
\par \tab "Well Master what do you think?" The thrill was starting to  get to her and she was more like the fun loving kid I first knew. I  scratched my head as if undecided. In truth I'd already paid for  everything but I had something in mind. 
\par \tab "Don't know," I said, "Why don't you show the cashier?"  
\par \tab She looked shocked. "No I couldn't!" 
\par \tab "Why not?" I asked, "She doesn't know you and you'll never  meet again. Besides if she likes it you may have found someone who  will scratch that itch a bit more regularly." 
\par \tab Her nipples had hardened some more and I knew it was only a  few minutes before her brain did what her body already wanted. "Strut  slave, remember you are your Masters slut. Do it with pride."  \tab She started to walk towards the cashier slinking along with no  difficulty. Maggie had always loved high heels and had quite a few  years practice on poor Caroline. There were no accidents, no  tottering, she just oozed towards the desk while behind her I pulled  out the bag and got busy. 
\par \tab She was a big hit with the cashier as I walked towards the  counter they were already exchanging numbers. 
\par \tab "She likes it," Maggie said with some glee, "Are you going to  buy it?" 
\par \tab "Already have, " I said and passed over her jacket. Then she  realised what was in the other bag. I followed her gaze, "Yep we're  wearing it out." Her face was filled with horror. I had given her a  short leather jacket, her overcoat, and purse were with the rest of  her clothes in the bag. Before she had time to think I picked up the  bag of restraints and headed for the door. It took a while for her to  catch up I was walking deliberately fast and running in high heeled  thigh boots isn't easy even for an expert. 
\par \tab "You...You.." 
\par \tab I smiled, "I knew you couldn't take it," I said, "So you want  to give up." Maggie never gave up. It was her creed, she would never  admit that she couldn't cut it. I knew that she was fuming but in the  end all she said was, "You are walking too fast Master!" I smiled and  slowed down. We'd parked a fair distance away and the walk was quite  interesting. She managed to fasten the jacket over her erect nipples  but is was obvious from her breathing that they were rubbing on the  lining. A faint odour told me that she was now truly damp.  
\par \tab At the street corner two working girls stood and touted for  custom. Hearing the click of heels on concrete they turned. Maggie was  quite a sight, The jacket hid most of the outfit down to the waist but  her shiny gloved hands gave some hint of what was underneath. The  leather covered crotch was a bit of a give away too as were the vinyl  thigh boots. They made the obvious conclusion that Maggie was  intruding on their territory. If she had been alone they would  probably have taken it from her hide but I was either a customer or  her pimp and whore etiquette meant that nothing would happen now.  Maggie could sense the hostility and started to fall back.  
\par \tab "Hey mister, she with you?" 
\par \tab "Yep," I said stopping at the corner to allow her to catch  up." 
\par \tab "How much she charge you?" The shorter one asked. 
\par \tab Maggie was close enough now to hear the conversation. I turned  towards her. 
\par \tab "A C note wasn't it love?" 
\par \tab She was lost for words, the short whore wasn't. 
\par \tab "Hang on I know her." Maggie winced, the thought of anyone she  knew seeing her like this was unbearable. 
\par \tab "Hey Red didn't the doctor tell you not to go out again until  the infection cleared up!" The taller one got the idea and ran with  it. 
\par \tab "That's right Red you have to finish all the tablets." Maggie  was too horrified to speak. "I'd leave her alone if I was you, she's  got the clap. Now both me and Trudy are clean and we'll even take you  at the same rate." 
\par \tab I turned to her looking shocked, "Is this true?" I could see  she wanted to die. 
\par \tab "N.....no please." 
\par \tab It was time to put her out of her misery. 
\par \tab "Sorry ladies but the police doctor assures me that my partner  here is free from all diseases." 
\par \tab Now it was their turn to wince. The small one swore.  
\par \tab "You lucked out girls, we're not Vice and we're too tired to  work out jurisdiction. I turned to Maggie. "If we let them off we can  get back sooner. What do you think?" 
\par \tab Maggie had pulled herself up to her full height and was  smiling, she gave the girls a reasonable imitation of a thousand yard  stare. 
\par \tab "I should run you in buy rights," She said sounding unsure,  "But then there's the paperwork." 
\par \tab Feeling uncomfortable and afraid Maggie would change her mind  they moved on taking the occasional glance back at us until we were  out of sight. 
\par \tab She felt better when we got in the car. 
\par \tab "Can I ask for a time-out here." 
\par \tab "What's the matter Slave can't cut it." 
\par \tab "I can cut it. All I want is a 2 minute time-out. 
\par \tab "Ok," I said,"But we add the two minutes on at the end."  
\par \tab "Is this how you treat this Elizabeth girl?" 
\par \tab "Nope, it's the way I treat you?" 
\par \tab "Why?" 
\par \tab "Well for a start theres my twenty first birthday party when  you left me naked and handcuffed to that tree. What was it you said,  something like if you can't torture your friends who can you torture?  " 
\par \tab She turned white, "God I forgot all about that." 
\par \tab I turned and smiled, "I didn't." 
\par \tab "That was different, it was a joke!" 
\par \tab "It was snowing." 
\par \tab "Not when we started. Do you mean that you've been saving that  for all these years" 
\par \tab "Revenge is a dish best served cold," I said with the biggest  smile I could manage. Then some of the tension broke and she started  laughing. 
\par \tab "God I feel like I'm eighteen again. Were we nuts or what?"  
\par \tab "Still are!" I said, "You only grow old if you want to. End of  time-out!" 
\par \tab We stopped of at a seven eleven on the way back to buy some  general supplies. I felt sure that the cashier should have figured out  what I was doing, buying duct tape, clothes line and the like. He  didn't seem to think it odd or pass comment, probably relieved I  wasn't trying to rob him. 
\par \tab I got back to find her rubbing her crotch. 
\par \tab "Naughty slave," I said and reached for the restraints bag.  I'd already tried the key in the handcuffs and added them to my key  ring so all I needed to do was feel for the metal object. I made her  lean forward and before she knew what was happening I'd cuffed her  hands behind her. 
\par \tab The smell of hot cunt still filled the car and she squirmed  occasionally looking to get a bit more sensation. We drove to her  apartment complex, she didn't have a car but she did have a space in  the basement car park. I used her key and headed down. Once there I  relented a little and fastened the overcoat about her shoulders. Of  course it couldn't do anything about the fuck me heels but it hid most  of the outfit and the handcuffs. Her apartment was near to the  elevator so I decided to take one last risk. While we waited in the  empty car park I went through the bags and collected a few items.  
\par \tab "Open wide." 
\par \tab "What?" 
\par \tab "I'm going to gag you," I said sweetly. 
\par \tab A look of horror suddenly spread over her face. "Oh god not  here. These are my neighbors!" She saw the look in my eye and opened  her mouth. I shoved her panties firmly inside, of course she was no  stranger to pussy juice so they probably tasted familiar. I few strips  of duct tape later and she was effectively gagged. I was pleased with  the result but it was a little obvious. As Maggie was a consensual  partner it was not quite as critical as if I was transporting  Caroline, if we were caught we would be embarrassed but non of us  would go to jail. Still I wanted to give her the thrill with minimal  actual risk. So I took a head scarf I'd bought at the convenience  store and tied it around her head. I deliberately tied it a little  forward so that it concealed the gag from the side. If someone looked  her square in the face they could see it easily but I had no intention  of giving them that opportunity. The elevator arrived, mercifully  empty and we went to the back. There I had her turn towards the side  wall allowing the scarf to hide the gag more completely. The elevator  went up slowly. I gradually became aware of the smell of hot pussy;  for all her protests this was obviously a turn on for her. Maggie  lived on the fourth floor and we had both hoped that the lift would  stay empty but at the first floor the door opened and a middle aged  couple got on. I thought I heard a little gagged squeal and I thought  they must have heard it too. Worse the hot pussy smell was very  obvious in such a small space. Any second I expected a comment so  trying to head it off I went into my planned routine. Of course unlike  a real captive Maggie had no intention of drawing attention to herself  so she was already facing the wall and looking down at the floor. I  stepped between her and the couple and started to continue an  imaginary conversation, a long involved discussion on the Boston Tea  Party that I'd had to memorise for school. As planned the couple  phased us out and we could have been painted pink for all they cared.  
\par \tab They got off at the next floor. The one risk now was that  there was someone waiting for the elevator on four. Not only was there  little chance of us getting off unnoticed but the chances of someone  recognising her were greater. She realised this and rubbed her taped  mouth against my arm in a very Caroline gesture. I pulled her forward  so that she was near the controls and positioned myself in front of  her. Her eye's were wild she made a few gagged noises obviously  wishing to be ungagged. 
\par \tab "Trust me?" 
\par \tab She closed her eyes for a second then nodded. 
\par \tab "Good girl." 
\par \tab The events were having a great effect on my erection and  secret bondage in public had always been one of my fantasies. I  imagined the other couple going back to their apartment and continuing  there lives never realising that the girl in the elevator was a  prisoner. "Now when the lift stops go between me and the right wall. I  will move with you. If there is someone in the corridor turn to face  the wall and act upset." 
\par \tab It turned out to be unnecessary as four was empty. I played  around finding the right key for a while feeling her panic mount.  Finally I got her inside. The smell of hot cunt was now overpowering.  I took off scarf, overcoat and handcuffs. She reached for the gag but  a quick slap on her hand stopped her. 
\par \tab "Not yet!" I handed her the shaving supplies I'd bought and  pointed at her crotch. "I'm sure you know the routine now loose it.  Leave a little for decoration but the rest goes." 
\par \tab While she headed for the bathroom I started to prepare the  bedroom. I tied a couple of lengths of cord to the legs at the bottom  of her bed and waited. She came out with the crotch zip open to show  her nude cunt I passed her the cuffs. 
\par \tab "Wrists and ankles, now!" 
\par \tab She complied and I rewarded her by removing the gag.  
\par \tab "Ok Slave, dildos and vibrators, where?" 
\par \tab She pointed at the bedside cabinet. There was an impressive  collection and I had no trouble finding a nice powerful little friend  to keep her company. I made her turn and fastened her cuffed wrists  together with a short length of cord. Then I introduced her cunt to  the vibrator and pulled the zipper up to lock it in place. Her hips  started to quake and while she was distracted I pushed the ball gag  into her mouth and fastened it tightly. She complained but there was  little she could do. "Dance slave," I said, "Do a good job and I'll  release you." She danced, not as well as Caroline but then I doubt she  had the same imagination. Towards the end she moved her body against  mine her eyes sparkling when she saw the size of my erection.  
\par \tab I took her to the bed and used the cords to spread her legs. I  chose now to show her the nipple clamps. This she didn't like as much  but with her erect nipples still poking through the peepholes she had  little protection. I applied the blindfold and felt her body tremble  as her helplessness increased. I knew that she wasn't very good at the  old skin flute so I didn't bother to ungag her. Instead I removed the  vibrator from her damp box. Sam had demanded oral sex and had taken  the time to school her various beau's on the correct technique. I know  that I probably wasn't going to be as good as some of Maggie's  partners, ownership promotes a certain understanding, but the little  noises from behind the gag told me that she appreciated it.   
\par \tab I teased, deliberately denying her completion, she groaned. A  gentle tug on the nipple clamps every now and then kept her interested  and when I knew she was ready I stopped. 
\par \tab I reached up and removed the nipple clamps. Then momentarily  freeing her legs I tied her ankle cuffs to her thighs using large  hanks of cord. When I'd finished she was helpless and unable to  protect her naked cunt. 
\par \tab I smiled "Well Slave time has come to fuck your worthless  cunt. It's no good resisting because you're helpless. Struggle slave  and see! " 
\par \tab She did, it was futile. I'd practiced on Caroline were escape  meant prison, Maggie had patiently let me tie her up. 
\par \tab "Scream slave. Perhaps the neighbors might hear." 
\par \tab This had worried me. Not knowing how thin the walls were I had  the roll of tape nearby in case the gag needed supplementing. It  didn't, even when I encouraged her to really let rip there was nothing  that could attract attention. 
\par \tab "Guess not," I said and slowly removed my clothes letting the  bound girl shiver in anticipation. 
\par \tab I pulled her over and as with Caroline positioned her on top.  Her bound legs would mean that I'd have to do most of the trusting and  that would make it slow but the feeling of complete helplessness was  what we were after and she was. 
\par \tab "I'm going to rape you now," I said "I'm going to force you to  cum you little whore if you like it or not. And if you don't cum this  time perhaps a pussy whipping will persuade you." 
\par \tab I felt her tremble. Then I started and as the excitement built  I taunted her. Telling her to scream, that it made no difference  because the gag kept her silent, that the bonds stopped her struggles.  That I had made her helpless and I was in charge and that I decided  her pussy should be fucked and that I wanted her to cum for me or she  would be punished. Each time I emphasised the *I* hammering the  message home that she was helpless that it was my will and my  responsibility. I felt the heat rising as those nine long months came  bubbling to the surface and heard the gagged screams as she came again  and again. 
\par \tab Afterwards she made me a light snack and a drink. She seemed  quiet, subdued and quite happy. She told me that it had been all that  she'd wanted, and the first time she had ever orgasmed with a man. The  cashier from the sex shop was apparently a sub in search of a  mistress, and Maggie thought that she might give it a try now that she  knew the ropes so to speak. She was happy and I felt relieved, the  entire event practical jokes and all seemed to have strengthened our  friendship. 
\par \tab Maggie hinted that she might want to try this again and an  evil thought came into my head, after all I'd always liked the idea of  two girls in bondage. So with that happy thought I departed back to  the house and Caroline. 
\par \tab It was nearly midnight when I returned to the house. A quick  video check found that she was well and still as tightly bound as I  left her. I made two coffees and headed down. She moaned and attempted  to move when I entered. Helping her up I removed the blindfold then  waited as she greedily downed the coffee. Then she looked at me with  those large expression filled blue eyes. 
\par \tab I smiled, "Slave, we have got to talk."  
\par \tab Chapter 10: "Patriarch Games" 
\par \tab I helped her up. She seemed apprehensive. I suppose I couldn't  blame her -- we had hardly parted on the best of terms. Her eye makeup  was smeared and I could tell she'd been crying again. I looked into  her eyes and she tried to look away. The posture collar made that  impossible and I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me.  
\par \tab As I looked into those need-filled eyes, I knew that I'd  succeeded, that over a period of just a few days I'd made Caroline  Conway -- the preacher's daughter, the good little girl -- hopelessly  addicted to sex. She thrust her hips against me again and moaned. She  was ungagged and perfectly capable of asking for what she wanted, but  these were animal needs and she begged as any animal in heat would.  There was more in that look, a silent capitulation that told me that  she was all set for another back down. If there was ever a time when  she was disposed to talk, this was it. 
\par \tab I led her to the toilet and removed the vibrator. She sat,  embarrassed as before to have me watching her. I looked at her damp  box, no surprise there. She was the juiciest female I'd ever known.  She squirmed a little but did her business and afterwards I cleaned  her up, finishing by pushing the vibrator back inside and upping the  setting slightly. Subconsciously, she thrust her latex covered twat in  my direction and her eyes asked a silent question. Just last week she  had been a struggling student living in a tiny apartment. Now she  stood next to me, a fetish queen begging a man to fuck her, almost a  nymphomaniac, and very nearly a slave. The thought amused me.  
\par \tab I smiled, caressing her naked breast for a moment to ensure  that her nipples had some attention too, then led her into the  dungeon. I forced her onto the bondage chair (without dildos) and  started to strap her in. I paused, letting my touch linger, as I  fastened her ankles to the legs. She was hot and ready so I reached  down to her throbbing crotch and as she gasped, begging soundlessly  for more, removed the vibrator. She cried out in frustration, horny  but denied. I just smiled. That would make things easier.  
\par \tab "Ok. I've calmed down a little and I want to hear what you  have to say." 
\par \tab "Please. . ." 
\par \tab "Want to cum, slave?" 
\par \tab "Oh. . .yes." 
\par \tab "Then you won't have any problem telling me what it's all  about." 
\par \tab She looked up hopefully, "What, about my offer?" 
\par \tab "No, not about your offer." 
\par \tab "Please Master, I will do any. . ." 
\par \tab "Enough!" 
\par \tab She fell silent, sensing my annoyance. I reached down and  forced her to look at me. Best get this over with. 
\par \tab I smiled. "Ok, so you want to talk about your *offer*. So  let's deal with that first, shall we?" I wanted to make sure that she  realized the permanency of her position. It would perhaps persuade her  to tell me what I needed to know. "It is my intention to keep you  forever, but assuming that I did tire of you, what makes you think you  would be released? How do you know there isn't a shallow grave in your  future?" 
\par \tab She shuddered and for an instant a look of fear crossed her  face, but then she tried to shake her head. Finding that impossible  she licked her lips. "I don't think you could do that," she said  quietly. There was perhaps a little flicker of doubt behind those blue  eyes, but she did her best to sound sure. 
\par \tab I laughed. "What do you base that on?" I asked. "And I hope  that isn't a psychological opinion. I wouldn't bet my life on it, not  with your grades!" 
\par \tab "No," she said, her voice almost a whisper. 
\par \tab "Then what?" 
\par \tab "A slave must know her Master's mind," she said. "I don't, not  completely, but I do know that rules are important to you. I don't  think you'd kill me for no reason, I realized that yesterday."  
\par \tab I was beginning to see. "You thought I was going to kill you?"  
\par \tab She looked up, "I thought that it was likely," she admitted.  "I thought I'd have a couple of weeks, a month at most. I tried not to  provoke you, not to attempt to escape unless I knew it was going to  work. . .yesterday, when I tried to escape, I thought you would kill  me for sure, but you didn't. Then I realized that you were serious  about keeping me as a slave and that I had a future to plan for." She  looked at me with those big blue eyes, pleading. "My offer is good,"  she said. "I'll willingly be your slave, do anything in return, the  piercing, the brand, even a baby if that's what you want."  
\par \tab I smiled again, as I understood. "What you're offering is to  be my girlfriend," I said. "Well, it may surprise you to learn that I  can get a girl with no trouble whatsoever. If not from love then form  the fact that I am a very wealthy man." I brought my hand up and  stroked her cheek, again. She didn't try to stop me. 
\par \tab "If I'd wanted, I could have bought your pretty little ass," I  said. 
\par \tab "You could deny it but think; how much did you owe? If I'd  have come to you and offered say a thousand dollars for one night  would you have really turned it down?" The look on her face told me  she didn't know. "We could go on," I said. "How much would the  piercing cost me, or the brand, or the baby? Probably a lot less than  it's already cost me to bring you here. You remember the outfit you  wore last night. 
\par \tab Those boots were probably the most expensive footwear you've  ever had, that corset alone cost more than half your wardrobe. Taking  a slave is a very expensive hobby but it's worth it because in return  I get something I could never buy -- complete control of your life. If  I decide to throw you out in ten years and you are forced to make your  way in the world with no education, that's my choice. I could just as  easily sell you to a brothel in Mexico, that's my choice too. That's  what ownership buys me." 
\par \tab She'd looked upset, almost terrified when I mentioned the  brothel. 
\par \tab I smiled as I explained, "Caroline Conway doesn't have a  future to plan for, slave. She died in that alleyway. My slave has a  long and interesting future ahead of her once she accepts her  situation and starts looking forward instead of looking back."  
\par \tab She was silent, fidgeting nervously like a schoolgirl in front  of the principal and perhaps sulking a little. 
\par \tab "Now, slave, what I want to know is why you almost hung  yourself today." 
\par \tab She said nothing. I thought back to Maggie. 
\par \tab "Did you have an abortion?" 
\par \tab She looked shocked, scandalized. "No. I. . ." 
\par \tab "Then what? Why such a dramatic reaction?" 
\par \tab Still nothing. 
\par \tab "Slave," I said as kindly as I could, "Ownership means  responsibility. You are my slave, I am your Master. I want to help  you, and you must need that help otherwise you wouldn't have done  something so melodramatic. Now tell me!" I could tell she wanted to  but something deep and old was fighting me for her soul. 
\par \tab "Tell me!" 
\par \tab Still nothing. Then I remembered what Maggie had said, that  she may have been threatened punishment if she told. Well, two could  play at that game. I allowed the vicious quality to creep into my  voice. 
\par \tab "I don't have all day, Slut!" 
\par \tab "I'm sorry Master." 
\par \tab "That is nowhere near good enough," I said coldly. "What is  rule one?" 
\par \tab "Obey first time, every time." She said without hesitation.  
\par \tab "Or?" 
\par \tab "Be punished," she whispered. 
\par \tab "And this is the creed you live by, the rules you say I always  keep." 
\par \tab "Yes." It was almost a gasp. 
\par \tab "Well then, I have given you a direct order. You are that far  away from a major punishment, Slave. That close. You are going to tell  me all about whatever it is that's going on here and I mean *now*." I  slammed the crop against the table. 
\par \tab She started crying. "Please, I can't," she moaned. 
\par \tab "A pussy whipping then? Twenty lashes?" 
\par \tab She stiffened. One had been painful enough, twenty must have  seemed unimaginable. 
\par \tab "Please!" 
\par \tab "Do I hear thirty?" 
\par \tab "No!" 
\par \tab "Thirty from the dumb bitch tied to the chair!" I said like a  mock auctioneer. 
\par \tab "Please!" 
\par \tab I could tell she didn't want to say it whatever it was.  Coercion was obviously needed and I had to sell her on the idea that  major pain would result from a refusal. In an instant my decision was  made. I brought the crop down hard on her unprotected nipple and  yelled, "Sold!" She screamed and cried but still said nothing. I  waited a few moments, then shook my head. "I see. A pussy whipping it  is then!" I said with a trace of disappointment in my voice.  
\par \tab "No, please!" she screamed. It was agony for her, torn between  wanting to obey me and the fear or embarrassment holding her back. I  stood and turned towards the cabinet. I'd deliberately left it open so  that the floggers hung on the back of the door were visible to her. Of  course I knew that these were designed for sexual play, and at worst  they could deliver only mild pain and discomfort. But God, they looked  marvelous. I heard the gasp as I went towards them. 
\par \tab "I. . .I. . .I'm a bastard!" 
\par \tab I stopped. Not the sort of thing you expect a lady to say,  especially about herself. It took me a moment to realize that she  meant it literally. Thinking about it, I kicked myself for not  spotting it sooner. Caroline's parents' wedding date had been one of  the first things I'd checked, as it wouldn't have done for the dutiful  daughter to miss such an important anniversary. The date popped into  my head and I realized immediately that it was wrong. Or rather, that  it didn't match up with Caroline's age. In my defense, a lot of my  married friends have cohabited for a while and I no longer tend to  directly link married time with length of relationship. The Reverend  Conway did not strike me as the cohab type. 
\par \tab A quick calculation told me that Caroline was almost eighteen  months old when the happy event happened. Then my words came back to  me: 
\par \tab ". . .if it's a girl, you can look after it yourself. I don't  want to be stuck with your bastards." 
\par \tab "You're illegitimate," I said with some relief, remembering  the horror stories told by Maggie. Part of me thought she had  overreacted; after all, huge numbers of kids are born out of wedlock  these days. Then I remembered she hadn't grown up in the real world  but in the weird twilight zone that was small town middle America. I  could imagine the comments, the knowing looks, the gossip -- and then,  another part of the puzzle fell into place. 
\par \tab "The Reverend Conway isn't your real father, is he?" I said  softly. "He married your mother after you were born." 
\par \tab "Yes," Her face flushed with shame. She looked like a heroine  from a Victorian melodrama, the foundling child born from sin.  
\par \tab I couldn't even begin to imagine the Reverend's motive for  marrying a single mother, but knowing the Bible Belt I felt sure he  could find some way to sell it to his loyal congregation. "So who is  your real father?" 
\par \tab She tried to shake her head. "I don't know." She started to  cry and my concerns returned. So she was a bastard, but even in  darkest Iowa it didn't constitute this much grief. Then I remembered  her reaction to my words, the begging letter home to her mother.  
\par \tab Mother. 
\par \tab "So the good reverend isn't your father. So what?" She said  nothing. I took a risk. "He still scares you that much?" 
\par \tab She looked at me in surprise, obviously disturbed now. "Y-you  know?" 
\par \tab "Tell me!" 
\par \tab She wobbled her head, sobbing. 
\par \tab It was so clear. I don't know why I didn't spot it sooner. I  turned to her, making a sweeping gesture with my hand. "All this, all  the histrionics," I demanded. "It's all about your father, isn't it?"  
\par \tab A look came across her face, a strange mixture of fear and  relief. If Maggie was right, Caroline had carried a dark secret with  her for many years, afraid to tell anyone because she thought they  would hate her. Part of her mind wanted so desperately to tell, to  free herself from the guilt. Confession is a powerful aid to  conditioning someone; it builds trust because inside we all have  something to hide. It's hardly surprising that it is used extensively  as part of the brainwashing process. 
\par \tab I nodded to myself. "I want you to tell me all about it.  Everything, understand?" 
\par \tab "No, please--" 
\par \tab "Not the right answer!" I said. "Slave, there is nothing you  can tell me that can shock me in any way. It's not possible for me to  think any less of you than I do at the moment. Make no mistake -- you  will tell me, sooner or later. I have a lot of interesting and painful  ways to make you tell me. Speak now before I have to whip it out of  you, and you may buy a little of my respect." 
\par \tab She looked up at that. "Respect?" Her voice was quiet but  emotional. 
\par \tab "Winning her Master's respect is the only thing that should  matter to a slave," I said. "It's the only way she'll ever be anything  more than an object." 
\par \tab "Please." 
\par \tab "What's the matter, afraid I'll spread it around? What do you  think I'd say?" I slipped into a fake Texas drawl. "Hey, Bob, old  buddy old pal. You'll never guess what I found out -- Caroline, the  kidnapped girl I have locked in my basement? Hell, I found out she  fucks farm animals." 
\par \tab That caused her to smile a little, but there was still the  fear in her eyes. 
\par \tab "No matter what you did, I'm not likely to throw you out," I  continued. "You might as well tell me. Now." 
\par \tab "He said he'd. . ." She closed her eyes, the tears gleaming on  her cheeks. 
\par \tab "You're afraid he'll hurt you!" 
\par \tab She would have nodded but the posture collar prevented it.  "Yes," she whispered. 
\par \tab I laughed harshly. "You've been kidnapped, taken countless  miles away, locked in a hidden room behind a door a tank couldn't get  though, and you're still afraid he'll punish you?" 
\par \tab "Yes." 
\par \tab "Well, he won't, " I said, leaning down until I was almost  nose to nose with her. "Because to get you he has to come through me,  and I'm the scariest thing in heaven or hell that bastard will ever  meet." 
\par \tab She looked at me with those doe eyes. She wanted so much to  believe. 
\par \tab "I am your Master, slave," I said, in the purr of a jungle  cat. All sleek and powerful and razor-tipped, something that could  kill in an eyeblink. "You are my property and I defend my property. No  matter what." 
\par \tab I released her, then, sitting down and pulling her onto my  lap. She curled up like a frightened little girl. I held her close,  letting her feel the warmth of my body, the tangible physical contact.  
\par \tab Remembering what Maggie had said, I gently brushed her breast  in a deliberately calming sensation, especially for someone as needful  as she was at that moment. "Tell me everything," I said. "No one will  punish you for what happened." 
\par \tab She looked up at me. It was so close to the surface.  
\par \tab "Tell me," I whispered. "I can free you from the guilt." For a  while she cried, but I knew it would be soon so I punched a button on  the remote. Somewhere upstairs the sound system started recording. . .  
\par \tab She had begun speaking like a child, using simple 
\par ungrammatical sentences like a five or six year old. As the story  progressed, her use of language improved, almost as if she'd been  hypnotically regressed. Or perhaps she had rehearsed it in her mind  for all those years, waiting for that trusted adult that had never  arrived to save her from the hell that was her home. In any case, it  took several hours for her to get through it. She would periodically  break down and I would have to comfort her before she went on. She  recounted it slowly, and at my insistence she had described everything  in a vivid, almost grotesque detail. When she had finally calmed down,  I retrieved a bottle of whisky from the cellar and we drank ourselves  into a minor stupor. This time she hadn't argued, as grateful for the  liquor as I was. Then I had taken her back to the cell and reattached  the wire. She just looked up at me, and I felt the need to hold her.  She was stiff and tense, and I knew she could never sleep like this.  
\par \tab I started to caress her, rekindling the burning need buried  deep inside her womb, feeling her body relax, finally accepting  absolution and the freedom from guilt. Then I very gently parted her  legs and started to lick and tease her pussy, feeling the warmth, the  need sweep across her, obliterating all other concerns. I concentrated  on her clit, building the sensation still further, listening as she  lost control and her screams of lust filled the room. Then, when I  judged the moment was right, I stopped and shifted so that I could  gently play with her nipples, listening as the volume of her cries  increased still further. I prolonged the moment, kept her on the edge  for minute after minute, knowing that to her it was an eternity of  sweet agony, a torture far more intense than any pain. I found myself  thinking of Maggie and her moment earlier that night, had it been this  intense for her? Did I really care? 
\par \tab Then I slipped my cock into her warm hole and fucked her  slowly, feeling her tightness drawing me in, enveloping me completely.  For the first time, I was aiming to give her maximum enjoyment,  matching my stroke to her needs and feeling her body strain against  the bonds as she crawled over the edge. Then she came again and again,  a bursting chain of climaxes, as if all those orgasms her guilt had  denied her had finally found release. Slowly, finally, she smiled and  almost instantly fell asleep. I paused to loosen some of the straps  and relieve the pressure on her arms. She looked like an angel, fine  wisps of blond hair framing her beautiful face. She seemed calm, with  that strange look of peace in her face that you only associate with  children. It was as if all those terrible years had just slipped away  and she was a little girl once more, enjoying the deep sleep of a  renewed innocence. 
\par \tab I was not so lucky. At first I had been enthused by my new  power. I knew that the demons of her past were the only obstacle to my  total control of her, and went to bed in hog heaven; I had tied up and  fucked two beautiful women today, and perhaps Vicky would be number  three. I remembered the embarrassment of Maggie in her hooker outfit,  those huge begging eyes above her gag as we had traveled up in the  lift. I heard Caroline's screams as she came again and again,  remembered the sweet taste of her pussy, the look in her eyes that  told me she was nearly mine. I had drifted off feeling drunk and very  satisfied. It didn't last. 
\par \tab I awoke around three with the unpleasant feeling that I'd just  had another bad dream and a pounding headache. It had taken two Advil,  three cups of coffee and almost two hours of Animaniacs before I felt  I could sleep without nightmares. 
\par \tab The next morning I woke early. The suggestion of a headache  still lurked in the back of my skull so more tablets and coffee were  in order. A quick check showed her still asleep, so I cleaned myself  up and trudged into my office. I unpacked her little box, quickly  sorting the diaries and pictures from the rest of her life. Then I  replayed the recording, editing out the pauses and the worst of the  anguished cries. Over the next few hours I systematically took her  story and turned it into a continuous monologue, telling a harrowing  story of her life. I played it a few times to get a feel for it, then  used the pictures in the albums and those little locked diaries to add  in those little details she had missed. 
\par \tab She had begun with a simple statement. 
\par \tab "Momma didn't really want me. She never told me so, but I  know. I guess I was an accident. It's kind of weird to think about it  like that, but it's true. It almost sounds like a movie of the week --  a cheerleader and some high school kid got together in the back seat  of one of those big old cars, took their clothes off, and. . .well,  you know. Momma said they had used protection despite her being  Catholic, but God had punished her anyway and she got me. I used to  think that I could remember the days. . .before, but Momma says that  isn't possible. My first real memory is of him throwing me to my  mother and ordering her to make me stop crying. If she couldn't, he  hit her. Somehow, I understood even then that the only way to stop him  hurting her was to do as he said. That was the first time he told me  not to tell the neighbors or anyone outside our house about what he  did to Momma. He said he would hurt her even worse if I did."  
\par \tab I looked at her first school photographs, of the sullen blond- haired girl at the back of rows and rows of smiling children.  
\par \tab "I didn't understand that we were different until my first day  at school. Momma took me to the gate and waved to me as I went inside.  The other mothers waited around for a while. They stood there talking,  exchanging favorite stories about their children -- normal stuff. But  Momma went straight back to make his breakfast. If she had stayed like  the other mothers, he'd have gone hungry for a few minutes. Then he'd  beat her. That's when I started to understand. 
\par \tab The other kids told me that their parents married because they  fell in love. I guess I thought mine had, too. And maybe, if they fell  out of love, that maybe it was my fault. As I started getting older,  though, I realized that she had been young and pretty with a daughter  and no husband. Momma was -- I don't know. Vulnerable, I guess.  Vulnerable, and weak, and she couldn't stand the gossip and the  pointed fingers. So when he offered to make her respectable, she took  it even though he demanded her soul in return. You know, she actually  told me once that even though she knew he was cruel, she thought she  could change him. But he was the one who destroyed her." 
\par \tab I looked at the family portrait again. At that stern look, at  the way Judith looked down in subservience. 
\par \tab "She wasn't really human anymore, the way she'd do anything he  said. She. . .God. She degraded herself on demand. He'd make her do  horrible things. I could never understand why -- I didn't know about  what it was like for a single woman with a daughter. He held that over  her head. Every so often, he would get so mad and threaten to throw us  out, tell everybody that Momma was a ten-cent whore who would sleep  with anyone. She would cry and beg, and throw herself at his mercy. He  never did it, of course -- it was just a way of exercising his power.  But she couldn't take that risk." 
\par \tab I plucked out a picture taken on someone's backyard. Pretty  little girls in light summer dresses, smiling, laughing all except the  blond, freckled Caroline. 
\par \tab "When I was six, he started. . .he. . .he started getting  interested in me. Before that, he just used to call me "the Bastard"  when we where at home and hit me if I got in the way. But all of a  sudden he started to be nice, almost like other fathers. I could tell  Momma was scared, but I didn't know why. She kept trying to make sure  we were never alone together, but he started to beat her more and  more. Then one day he went out to visit a sick parishioner, some old  woman who didn't get a lot of visitors. He kept complaining that she'd  almost talk his ear off, but he had to go visit her. After he left,  Momma said we would play a game. She gave me a suitcase and said we  would pretend to pack for a vacation and would see how fast we could  get ready. I pretended we were going to Hawaii, and I packed all my  bathing suits so that I could be a mermaid when we got there.  
\par \tab We almost made it. We were on the stairs when he came home. I  remember his face, and his eyes -- they scared me so much. He ran  upstairs and grabbed me, then he told Momma to get upstairs into the  attic. I could tell she was scared -- she kept looking at me, then at  him. Looking back on it, I now know that he was standing by the rail  on purpose. If she put up any sort of a fight, he would have thrown me  over. he could always claim later on that it was an accident -- kids  love sliding down banisters, she must have overbalanced, slipped. . .  
\par \tab I can still feel his hand holding my arm, almost crushing it,  and how Momma slowly put the suitcases down and walked up the stairs  to the attic. He sent me to my room, and then I heard his steps on the  attic stairs. I didn't see Momma again for nearly two months."  
\par \tab I listened on a ghostly chill spreading through my body, the  almost primeval feeling of being in the presence of pure evil. I  stopped the recording and made myself a drink. Then I spun on.  
\par \tab "After Momma went up to the attic, he found a lady to come in  and do the housekeeping. The Peterssons took Anna -- he told them that  Momma had gone on retreat, and he needed help with the baby. They were  happy to help out -- I mean, this was Reverend Conway, right? The  nicest man in town. Of course they'd take Anna. He kept telling  everyone about Momma's retreat, how she was trying to find some  spiritual strength and get some rest from caring for two small girls.  It was summertime then, and since school was out I'd stay in the house  all day long. I remember people would stop by and ask him questions  about the socials, or talk to him about church business. Sometimes I  went up to the attic, when I knew he was talking to someone, and I'd  tap on the door. Once, I thought I could hear something moving inside.  But nobody ever answered. 
\par \tab Then, one day, I came in from playing in the back yard. He was  in the kitchen, doing something at the sink. I don't know why I did  it, but I went up to the attic. The door was open, just a little bit,  and I stepped inside. I remember how dark it was, with just a tiny bit  of light coming in from the dirty windows. At first, I couldn't see  anything, and I thought maybe he let Momma come back downstairs.  
\par \tab Then I heard the noise. And I turned around. 
\par \tab She. . .oh, Momma. She was hanging from one of the roof beams.  He had tied her arms behind her with thin cord, the kind that you used  for baling hay. It was wrapped tight around her arms, from elbows to  wrists, and the skin was bulging purple at each end. It couldn't have  been used just to tie her -- it was there to punish. One leg was  trussed up tightly against her body, forcing her to balance on the  other leg. On that foot, she was wearing the highest heeled shoe I had  ever seen -- I didn't understand how she could even stand up in it.  Then I saw the rope above her. It was tied to her elbows, yanking her  arms back at this horrible, hurtful angle. She had to stand there like  that, her arms almost pulled out of their sockets from the rope tied  to the beam. She wobbled a little, and I saw all these red marks and  welts across her back, like somebody had been whipping her.  
\par \tab Him. He had been whipping her. 
\par \tab I must've made some sound, then, because she turned around,  and I saw my Momma's face. I almost didn't recognize her -- she was  gagged with this filthy rag, and her eyes were huge. They stared at  me, and she tried to say something. I took a step forward. . .she  didn't want me to come any closer. She tried to stop me, and she lost  her balance. She made the most horrible noise, then, as she fell and  her whole weight came down on her arms. I could have sworn I heard a  crack as they jerked back in the air. She screamed behind the rag and  wiggled, wriggling until she could get her foot under her again. It  was horrible. She finally managed to get her balance back and stood  there, staring at me. And I stared back. The only place that wasn't  bruised or welted or hurt in some way was her face. Somehow, I knew  she wanted me to run away and hide. 
\par \tab I did. God help me, I did. And I almost knocked him over on my  way down the stairs -- he was coming back up for more. The bastard  grabbed me and clapped a hand over my mouth, then picked me up and  carried me into his bedroom. He threw me onto their bed and shoved a  handkerchief into my mouth, tying it there with one of Momma's summer  scarves. I couldn't stop him. I tried, but he was bigger than me, and  so strong. He tied my wrists behind my back, then tied them to my pony  tail, jerking my head back. I read about it later on -- it's called a  hammer lock. Then he started tying up my legs and all I could think  was oh no, oh no, not like Momma, please God not like Momma. He would  have, too -- he would've carried me upstairs and hung me up next her,  I know it. But the doorbell rang right then. He swore at me and  dragged me to the closet. He stood me on a clothes hamper as he tied  my neck to the clothes rail. Then he told me what would happen if I  moved. He said I'd fall over because I couldn't use my legs, and I'd  hang myself. I'd hang myself and die. That if I wanted to live I  should stay still and quiet. Then he closed the closet door. I heard  the key turn in the lock, and his footsteps go upstairs. The attic  door slammed shut, then he went downstairs and answered the front  door. 
\par \tab I don't know how long I stood there. I could feel my legs  getting numb from the ropes, and I stared into the darkness, praying  for him to come back soon because I didn't want to die. I started  crying, and I almost choked under the gag as my nose got stuffy. Then  I heard steps on the staircase, and a lady's voice. I screamed, then,  as loud as I could. All I heard was this muted sound, like a bird cry.  I kept screaming, and she walked right past the closet. I kept  screaming, and she never even heard me. She used the toilet because I  heard it flushing, then she went back downstairs. Finally, the door  slammed, and I heard him coming back upstairs for me. 
\par \tab He opened the door and untied the rope, then took me down off  the hamper. He was. . .nice. I don't know why. He started untying all  the ropes, rubbing my legs when they cramped. He said it was all just  a bad dream, and that everything was all right. I knew it wasn't, but  I thought he'd hurt me again if I said so, so I didn't." 
\par \tab Her father was kind to her for the next three days, playing  and laughing with her, to the point were she almost believed that that  terrible sight upstairs was only a nightmare. On the fourth day he  introduced her to the game. 
\par \tab "It started with syrup. He liked good maple syrup, not the  stuff that you got from the store but real maple syrup from Vermont.  He'd pour a few drops onto his finger, then tell me to pretend that I  was a kitten and lick them off. So I did. It was fun, and the syrup  tasted good. I never got candy because he didn't believe in it, so  something like the syrup was a special treat. Then he told me that if  I was a good girl and did all my chores, he'd give me another lick of  syrup. I'd clean up my room, and take out the garbage, and put the  papers in the bin on the porch, and he'd pour more maple syrup onto  his fingers and I'd lick it off. Like a kitten. Then, one evening, he  took me into his bedroom. He said we were going to play a new game  with the maple syrup. He took off his pants and got into bed, and told  me to get in with him. I didn't want to look at him -- it was all  funny and hairy between his legs, and there was this thing hanging  there. He took the maple syrup and poured a little bit onto his thing,  and told me to lick it off. It was just a game, he said. So I did."  
\par \tab I remembered the embarrassed look she gave me. 
\par \tab Gradually the amount of syrup was reduced and poor technique  discouraged by frequent beatings. By the time Judith "returned," quiet  and broken, her daughter was an accomplished cock sucker. For the next  ten years, her warm mouth would service her father at least twice a  week. As Maggie had predicted, Charles moved the blame for this abuse  to his daughter, telling her that she was evil and that she and her  mother would be punished if anyone found out. He got his broken and  submissive wife to support him and the frightened child never told.  
\par \tab I fast forwarded, moving through ten years of systematic and  frequent abuse in a matter of moments. 
\par \tab "Sometimes, it seemed like Momma was about to stand up to him  again. Then he'd take her back up into the attic for a few days, or a  week. She'd come back downstairs, quiet and moving carefully. You  could never actually see anything wrong with her -- he was too smart  for that. He made sure all the welts and bruises could be covered by  her dress. When I got old enough, he'd make me sleep in his bed during  these times. He'd make me suck him, and swallow afterwards, and he'd  push his thing into my ass even though it hurt horribly. But he  wouldn't actually fuck me -- he said it wouldn't do for the reverend's  daughter not to be a virgin. Then he'd laugh and tell me he was saving  that for when I was older. He did other things to me, too, things he'd  read about in books, and sometimes. . .I. . .I don't know. Sometimes  it felt. . . but he told me only bad girls liked that sort of thing.  If I liked it, I was a slut, I was evil and worthless. Just like my  Momma. 
\par \tab He never did any of this to Anna, though. Anna was his angel,  pure and sweet and born in holy wedlock. I was a bastard , I deserved  everything I got but Anna was a 'good girl.' She knew it, and she made  my life a living hell with it. If she broke something, or tore her  dress, or lost her homework, she blamed it on me. And he would take me  up to his bedroom and beat me while Momma and Anna waited downstairs.  When I came back down, she'd be sitting there in the living room,  smiling at me. 
\par \tab She got worse as she got older. When I was about twelve, I  started hearing the girls at school talk about sex. One of them, an  older girl, said it was supposed to be fun, and there was a way that  you could have fun all by yourself. What you had to do was find this  little nub between your legs and rub it gently. I didn't believe them  at first -- it sounded stupid. Sex wasn't fun, sex hurt. But one time,  when I was taking a bath, I decided to look for the nub. It was kind  of hard, but eventually I found it and rubbed it like they said. At  first, nothing happened, but then I started to get this funny feeling  down low in my stomach, all warm and tingly. Kind of like, sometimes,  what happened when. . .you know. I kept on trying it in the bathroom,  and sometimes in bed. One time, it felt like fireworks were going off  down there, it felt so good. That was my first orgasm, I suppose. And  that was when Anna walked in and caught me. I was in bed, under the  covers, but she knew something was wrong and started chanting, "I'm  gonna tell Daaaddy, I'm gonna tell Daaaaady." She ran out before I  could stop her, and a few minutes later I heard him coming up the  stairs. He opened the door and stood there, staring at me. I couldn't  move, couldn't even breathe, I was so afraid. He closed the door and  walked over to the bed, grabbing the covers and ripping them off me.  It happened so fast. He grabbed my legs and yanked them apart, staring  down between them, then said that I was a wicked, sinful girl and  would burn in Hell from what I just did. 
\par \tab He took one arm and one leg and flipped me over, onto my  stomach, then pulled up my nightgown. I hid my eyes in the crook of my  arm and waited. I heard the hissing noise before I felt it. It was a  wire hanger, just like in the movie 'Mommie Dearest.' And they hurt  like fire, thin lines of fire all up and down my back, my ass, my  legs. I started crying, then I started screaming. He stopped just long  enough to stuff a handkerchief in my mouth, tying it with a pair of  panties, then kept whipping me with the hanger. He spread my legs and  started whipping my thighs, then whipped me once right between my  legs. I screamed and fainted. 
\par \tab When I woke up, I was tied spread-eagle to the bed. He left me  there like that all night as punishment, and Anna laughed at me from  the doorway. I had to sleep on my stomach for two weeks. I never  touched myself down there again, until. . .until you. 
\par \tab This went on. . .God, for years, until I got into high school.  Then, about six months before my fifteenth birthday, I met Josh  Petersson. That isn't exactly right -- I mean, the Petersson's had  lived in the town all my life. Our families hung out together. I just  never paid very much attention to Josh before -- I mean, he was just  some boy in the neighborhood. But in my sophomore year we both entered  projects in the science fair. He had the table next to mine and we  started talking. We started to study together sometimes in the school  library. Since the Petersson farm was out of town he always offered to  walk me home after school. Our house was on the edge of town you see,  near the church. 
\par \tab That's when it started. He was so sweet and funny, and I loved  listening to him tell about his family's trips to the Grand Canyon or  what he wanted to do when he got older. He'd tease me, trying to make  me laugh, and I started to feel safe with him. Somehow, we started  holding hands on the way home, and then I let him kiss me. It was  nothing like. . .him. Josh was sweet, and innocent, and it felt so  wonderful when he put his arms around me. He asked me to be his  girlfriend, and I said yes. 
\par \tab Oh, God. Now, I wish I had said no. 
\par \tab But I didn't care then. I was so happy that Josh liked me --  it was something all my own, something pure and good. On the other  hand, I was terrified that. . .he. . .would find out, from Anna or one  of my friends. I told Josh that we had to keep it secret -- I made up  some lie about reverends' daughters not being allowed to date until  they were sixteen. He believed me and promised he wouldn't tell a  soul. 
\par \tab We kept it up like that for months. Sometimes, I'd manage to  sneak away and meet him at this little house on his parent's property.  He called it Patrick's house, and said that it would be his someday.  We'd wander through it, pretending that we were married and living  there, and it was the happiest time of my life. 
\par \tab Then, the day before my fifteenth birthday, Josh said that he  had a surprise for me and I was supposed to meet him at Patrick's  house in the afternoon. I told Momma that I had to stay after school  and help one of the teachers mark papers. I don't think she really  believed me, but she let me go anyway -- it sounded reasonable, and  would keep him happy. After school, I ran to Patrick's house, dodging  showers feeling somehow alive. Josh was waiting for me inside, and  swept me into his arms the minute I came through the door. We just  stood like that for a minute, the two of us safe against the world, as  he kissed my hair and told me that I was beautiful, wonderful, that he  loved me so much. I looked up at him, and saw the love in his eyes. I  knew, then, that he was the only one I wanted to spend my life with.  
\par \tab He led me up the dark, narrow stairs, to one of the little  bedrooms. There, he had set up a checkered red cloth on the floor with  this gorgeous little picnic lunch -- he even managed to filch a bottle  of wine from his dad's basement. We sat down, and he insisted on  serving me my fried chicken and salad and cookies. It was all part of  the service, he said, laughing. My first glass of wine was in one of  those little plastic wineglasses, like you can get in the grocery  store. It was the best meal I ever had, and I leaned over to kiss him  afterwards, as a thank you. 
\par \tab I'm not quite sure how it happened. I don't remember a lot of  it -- I thought later on that maybe I was blanking on some of it,  because of what he did to me. We lay down on the blanket, in a square  of sunlight that came streaming through one of the windows. It was a  funny day, sunlight and showers, like the world couldn't make up its  mind. I do remember watching the dust motes dance in the sunlight,  like golden bubbles in the wine. I remember I was happy, and I  remember Josh kissing me, and telling me that he loved me. I must have  helped him take off my dress -- I don't see how he could've gotten it  off in one piece, otherwise. He kept kissing me all over, telling me I  was beautiful, so white and smooth, like ivory. 
\par \tab He. . .we. . .made love, I guess. It wasn't just sex, like  with him. It was love, and Josh cried out my name at the end. I lay  there, under him, and felt the love coming out of him, and tried to  ignore the voices in my head telling me I was dirty, a whore. I  couldn't be -- someone like Josh wouldn't love a whore. 
\par \tab He held me afterwards, and told me not to worry -- he wanted  to marry me, and if I got pregnant he'd just marry me that much  sooner. He even brought out this little box, covered in velvet, and  gave it to me. It contained a thin gold band, his great-grandmother's  wedding ring, he said. It would do until he could afford a real  engagement ring -- then he stopped, and looked at me. 
\par \tab Will you marry me, Caroline, he asked. I said yes, and started  crying. 
\par \tab That's. . .that's when it started to go wrong. Josh wanted to  talk to him and get his permission to marry me. I told him he couldn't  -- my father would never agree. He insisted that this was something he  had to do, that he was proud of his love for me and didn't want to  hide it anymore. We fought about it, and finally I stood up and  grabbed my dress, crying. I told him that if he really loved me he  would listen to me and not say anything to my father. I was so scared  -- for me, for him. Somehow, I knew what would happen if anyone tried  to take me away from the Conway house. I ran out of there, buttoning  my dress and crying. I could hear Josh calling my name, but I just  kept going -- I couldn't think, I was so confused and scared. The next  day, I had my birthday party. He had allowed me to invite some of the  kids from school, but Josh didn't come. I kept checking the door,  hoping that he would forgive me and come anyway. I wanted to see him  so badly. But he never showed up. 
\par \tab The party was nice, I guess. I had a cake, and candles, and  presents from everybody. I couldn't really enjoy it, though, I was so  worried about Josh. I didn't really notice as all the guests started  leaving, until the house was quiet again. Just us four. Anna wound up  going to sleep early -- I think she was mad that I was the center of  attention for once, and she couldn't do a thing about it. Maybe an  hour later, he took me by the shoulders and said that he had a special  present to give me. I still remember that smile, and Momma sitting at  the kitchen table, not daring to look up. He took me upstairs, to  their bedroom, and told me to pull my shorts down and unbutton my  shirt. I thought we were going to do what we'd always done, but he  pushed me on the bed and told me to stay on my back this time.  
\par \tab I closed my eyes, and prayed to God to let me die. I heard the  zipper, then the rustle of cloth as he took his pants off. The  bedsprings creaked as he climbed on. He. . .he. . .oh. He got on top  of me, and I could feel it between my legs, poking me. Then he pushed  it in, hard. He. . .I know now, he must have been trying to break my  maidenhead. Josh had been so careful, so gentle. All he wanted to do  was hurt me. 
\par \tab His face. . .changed. I could see it, see the realization that  there was nothing in his way. I wasn't a virgin anymore. He leaned  back, staring at me, then took his full weight on one hand and slapped  me hard with the other one. "You WHORE!" he screamed, right into my  face. "You filthy whore! You've been fucked before! You let someone  fuck you!" 
\par \tab He kept slapping me, knocking my head from side to side with  the blows. I tried not to make a sound, but soon I started screaming.  I couldn't help it. He pushed himself up, then, and grabbed me by the  hair, dragging me off the bed and opening the door so that he could  throw me into the hallway. My head slammed into the wall opposite, and  I shut up, breathless from the pain. I thought he was going to kill  me, somehow I got enough of my breath back and flung myself down the  stairs. I still don't know how I managed it but I kept my balance and  somehow realized I had to get to the door -- to Josh. He screamed  something and started down after me and I started towards the door  knowing he wouldn't reach me in time. Then suddenly someone grabbed me  by the hair, I spun around willing to fight to get away. If it had  been Anna I would have smashed that smug face into the wall...... It  was my mother. I couldn't believe it, and I don't think she wanted to.  She was broken you see, at the time I couldn't imagine why she would  side with him, didn't fully understand the fear and the pain.....  
\par \tab Then he clamped his hand over my mouth and told her to get a  rope. She did, like a zombie and held me as he tied me up. He gagged  me with a knotted towel then he pulled and pushed me upstairs. I  looked down at her as she stood there and part of me knew he'd won,  knew what he'd do next. He'd tied my ankles but it was proving too  hard to move me like that so he pushed me over and retied them as a  hobble. I tried to kick but I knew it was useless. 
\par \tab Snarling, he grabbed me by the hair again and forced me to  stand up, then pushed me -- 
\par \tab Pushed me -- 
\par \tab Towards the attic stairs. He took me up to the attic, just  like he had taken Momma almost ten years before. And he retied me,  with my arms roped to a beam in the ceiling so high that I had to  stand on my tiptoes, then he spread my legs and tied each foot to old,  rusted eyebolts in the floor so that I was stretched even further. I  read later on that people could suffocate in that position, that it  was the way people died when they were crucified. I could hardly  breathe, and my face hurt so badly as he grabbed my cheeks, and pulled  the gag tighter. I could feel my lips puffing up, the blood making  them sting in the hot, stuffy air. 
\par \tab He cut my clothes off, shredded them with a craft knife, and I  thought he was going to cut me for sure. But he just stood there,  examining me like I was a piece of sculpture. And nodded, as he took a  bullwhip off a hook on the wall. He said I had sinned against my God  and my religion, but most importantly I had sinned against him. I had  denied him what belonged to him by marriage, and was now lower than  anything that crawled in the dirt. I had to be punished. 
\par \tab I couldn't move as he walked behind me. I could only wait, and  breathe, and hope to die. 
\par \tab I heard the sound first. Then I felt the burst of fire across  my back. It was the worst, most intense pain I had ever felt, worse  that his slaps, worse than the pain when he pushed into me. I screamed  into my gag, arching my back, trying to move away from the pain. He  whipped me again, and again. He told me later on that he had whipped  me 40 times, one more than Jesus because I was a worthless slut. I  didn't know -- I fainted after the sixth lash. 
\par \tab When I woke up, all I could feel was the pain. All up and down  my back, my ass, my legs. I blinked, trying to breathe through my  stuffed nose. And I saw him sitting on a chair in front of me. He  straddled the chair with an elbow propped on the back, chin on fist.  Just staring at me. When he saw that I was awake, he smiled at me, and  asked me who had fucked me first. I don't know how I did it, but I  shook my head. He said, very gently, that God would only forgive me  when I told him who had defiled me. But I wouldn't. 
\par \tab Afterwards, I found out that I had spent two weeks up there.  Two weeks in that hot, filthy attic, while he. . .experimented on me.  He had all these books and magazines, things that he bought mail-order  from special companies in the city, from farm supply stores, from all  kinds of places. And he tried them out, one by one, on me, always  asking me to tell him who had fucked me first. He tied my legs to a  board and forced my feet down until they were pointed, then strapped  them down and left me there while my calf muscles cramped in agony. He  smeared Ben-Gay on a huge dildo and shoved it up my ass. He told me  about female circumcision, and said he was gonna cut off my pussy lips  and clit and sew up my pussy so that I'd never enjoy sex again. In  between, he beat me and whipped me, just for the fun of it.  
\par \tab I held out until. . .he had installed a workbench up there,  some kind of heavy-duty wooden table. He strapped me to it. He forced  my legs into these homemade stirrups, spreading them wide so that he  could get at my pussy. He'd been at it a lot, pushing dildos and other  things into me, fucking me over and over, fisting me until I thought I  would die from the pain. But nothing he had done was as bad as this.  I. . .I didn't like needles. I didn't like the idea of things being  stuck into me, being broken off so that I couldn't get at them. He  found that out when he started sticking pins through my nipples, and .  . .he had this little board, made of thin wood and shaped like a  butterfly with an oval hole in the middle. He called it his butterfly  board. I thought it was because of the shape until. . .until he put it  between my legs and pushed it up against me, hard. Then he pulled my  pussy lips through the hole. He pulled and stretched them until I  could feel the wood scraping against my clit, the insides of my  thighs. Then he held up the pin. And I screamed. I screamed and  screamed, and he pushed that pin through my pussy lip, pinning it to  the board. I couldn't stand it, couldn't stand the feeling. And he  kept doing it, stretching the lips until they were completely pulled  through the hole and he could pin them to the board like a butterfly.  
\par \tab I. . .went crazy, I guess. I thrashed my head from side to  side and cried and begged underneath that gag, and all I could feel  were those pins opening me up, stretching me wide. Then he held up  another pin, and touched my clit. He was going to push it through my  clit, he said, and rip it through unless I told him what he wanted to  know. 
\par \tab I could feel myself snap. I couldn't stand it anymore. I made  these animal noises and nodded as hard as I could, trying to make him  come up and take the gag off so that I could tell him, tell him all  about Josh. When he did take the gag off, I started babbling, saying  that Josh loved me, he wanted to marry me, I would never tell anyone  about this, oh please please. . . 
\par \tab He smiled down at me, and brushed the hair out of my eyes. He  said that I had finally pleased God. Then he pushed the gag back in my  mouth. And he went down and pushed the pin through my clit. And he  left me there like that, for the rest of the day, screaming.  
\par \tab I finally stopped screaming, I don't know when. I just  drifted, blind in the dusty darkness. He would always find me, always  make me do whatever he wanted, always hurt me. He enjoyed pain,  enjoyed watching it in other people. I. . .gave up. There was nothing  I could do. And that's when I heard the doorbell. Even up there, I  could just hear the voices at the door, and I recognized Josh's voice.  He had come for me, after all, but it was too late. I tried to warn  him tell him where I was but I was gagged. The voices faded, and I  fell into the darkness. 
\par \tab Sometime later, I felt an aching, gnawing pain and woke up. He  was standing at the foot of the table, pulling the pins out and  pushing my lips back through the hole. He told me that Josh had come  and asked for my hand in marriage. I said I needed time to consider  the offer, he chuckled, and asked Josh to come back in two days.  
\par \tab He unstrapped me from the table and helped me sit up. It hurt  to close my legs, both from the muscle strain and from the damage to  my pussy lips, but I managed it. Then he put a little padded bed desk  on my lap, with a piece of my notepaper, and pushed a pen into my  hand. I was to write down exactly what he said -- I was to tell Josh  to meet me in the woods, where he usually went hunting, tomorrow at  three o'clock. I wrote the words automatically, my mind blank, and I  signed it at the bottom. Then he pushed me back onto the table,  strapped me carefully into place, and covered me with a blanket. I  stayed up there for another five days, doing whatever he wanted when  he came to see me. 
\par \tab When I finally came down, I found out about Josh. He had gone  hunting, his mother said between sobs in our front parlor, and must  have slipped near a gully. Josh's body had been found at the bottom of  it, half his side blown away in the shotgun blast. His funeral had  been the day before. She sniffled and said she understood why I  couldn't come, being as sick as I had been. I shouldn't feel bad about  it -- Josh would understand, too. Then I remembered the note and  realized that my weakness had killed him, that if I had resisted he  could still be alive. 
\par \tab I sat there, silently watching as he held Mrs. Petersson's  hand and patted it. Then he turned his head and smiled at me. And I  knew I would never get away." 
\par \tab I stopped the tape again, the sick feeling returning to my  stomach. After this it all made sense, her actions, the way she always  backed down and those looks of fear always out of all proportion to  what I was doing to her. And above all there was that question, "Why  me?" Any kidnap victim may think it but they usually refocus on the  more basic questions of survival. In Caroline's case? Well to be  tormented by one maniac was bad enough but by two unrelated  individuals? I could see what she was thinking, did she attract them  in some way. I scratched my head remembering back to my first sight of  her. I was sure I'd been attracted to her amazing good looks but was  that true? Could I have instead reacted subconsciously to some quirk,  some submissive body language that marked her as a victim? Was it  important?  
\par \tab I looked again at Conway's picture. He was a large stocky man  with thin graying hair and a thick curly beard. In his middle to late  fifties I thought and more than a match for a terrified girl and her  mother. Then I thought of tall, lanky, naive, Josh --he hadn't really  stood much of a chance either. I looked at myself in the mirror. My  father's strong Irish temper had already brought a flush to my face  and once again I thanked my kind gentle grandfather for contributing  his strong Russian genes through my mother. Heavy, agile and resilient  I knew *He* would have a harder time with me. Even then I knew that  there would have to be a reckoning, that a slave can have only one  master. He was a sadist, but Maggie said I was a closet sociopath, and  I was infinitely patient. When we met it would be at a time and place  of my choosing and I knew I would take great delight in crushing him.  
\par \tab It was almost time to wake Caroline I started towards the door  when the phone rang. Puzzled I answered it but with the exception of a  few booming noises there seemed to be no one there. I was preparing  coffee when it rang again. 
\par \tab "Hello?" 
\par \tab "Huuumph." 
\par \tab "I'm sorry?" 
\par \tab "Oomph Hee!" 
\par \tab "Sorry?" 
\par \tab "Ummph!" More insistent this time and my brain suddenly  clicked. 
\par \tab "Maggie? Is that you?" 
\par \tab "Mmmmm!" 
\par \tab "Don't tell me, you decided to try self bondage and now you  can't get free?" There was an embarrassed silence. 
\par \tab "Mmmmph" 
\par \tab "Ok, I'll be there in two hours." "Ummmphhhh!!!!!" "I'm sorry  that's the best I can do. I don't live in Boston remember! If you like  I can call the fire department for you?" "Nnnnmmm!" "Was that no?  Grunt once for yes twice for no." "Mmmm.......Mmmmm!" "Ok about two  hours then, try to sit quietly until I get there." Nine in the morning  and already a freaky day. I looked at Conway again, at those cold dead  fish eyes and shuddered. Then I headed off to see my slave.  
\par \tab 
\par \tab  
\par \tab Chapter 11: "French Lessons" 
\par \tab I wandered into the kitchen thinking again of Maggie's  predicament. She'd always been impulsive, liable to go off and do  strange things for no good reason. This wouldn't be the first time I'd  been forced to bail her out when things got out of hand. 
\par \tab An image of her bound and gagged flittered through my mind and  I was suddenly and unexpectedly hard. Wow! On one level I realized it  was wrong; here was a long time friend in an embarrassing and  potentially dangerous situation. I shouldn't be getting off on it but  it was such a turn on I simply couldn't help myself. I could imagine  her lying there, wrists raw from her frantic struggles, body coated in  sweat. At first she would have been too embarrassed to call for help - - after all she wouldn't want the neighbors to find her like this. But  as she tired and that knot of fear grew in her gut, she would have  abandoned any thought for her dignity. After all, survival is of  primary importance. I suppose she would have tried screaming first,  but the gag was so tight I'd had problems hearing her close to a  phone. Then as her neighbors started to leave for work and she could  hear them passing her door, I could imagine her desperate attempts to  attract their attention -- the thrashing about, the gagged screams too  quiet to be heard, then finally that desperate, frantic phone call.  
\par \tab The drama of it appealed to me. The reality, the danger, it  was like our little adventure of last night. There had been something,  perhaps her look of humiliation in the slut outfit, or the risk of  discovery in the elevator, that had given the experience more of a  kick. Whatever it was, it seemed to be missing from my relationship  with Caroline. 
\par \tab Don't get me wrong; nothing in my life compared with the  immense thrill of the kidnapping. The first time I'd raped Caroline as  she lay there bound and helpless --- when I'd felt her struggles,  heard her gagged moans I'd been in ecstasy, but after that it had  started to become a little tame. I still got a huge kick out of just  having her. She was young, sexy, beautiful and completely in my power.  I was in control freak heaven. I could degrade her anyway I liked; I  was the one with the Power. It was the ultimate geek's fantasy. I had  a pretty blonde cheerleader tied up in my basement. Yet strangely  enough, bondage sex with my real prisoner did not seem as real as my  little act with Maggie. I think it's lack of spontaneity. Although I  keep Caroline bound and gagged most of the time, it's mainly for show.  She spends her days locked behind an armored door in a sound-proof  room; escape is impossible and the bonds are overkill. I thought again  of Maggie lying helplessly in her room. In her case the bonds were  real, the cuffs constrained her, the gag stole her voice and any  chance of rescue. And that rescue is so tantalizingly close. . .  
\par \tab I looked at my watch. Two hours I'd told Maggie. Two hours if  I'd been ready in my car. Two hours if I did eighty all the way and  dodged the state troopers. Two hours if I didn't have a slave to feed.  She would understand my lateness, I was sure. Then a strange thought  struck me. Suppose I was killed in a car accident on my way to save  Maggie? I realized immediately that both girls would be doomed. Maggie  would eventually be found when the police searched her apartment, but  Caroline? Caroline would die of starvation alone and helpless and the  chances were her body would never be found. Strangely, I found the  thought thrilling; to think that two other human beings were so  dependent on me that they would die if I did. What a feeling of Power!  
\par \tab Caroline. . . 
\par \tab To be honest, I couldn't think about Caroline without feeling  a little numb. I can't really say that I was emotionally drained; I am  by nature and training an analytical person, and emotion doesn't come  easily to me. But the horrors of that attic room continued to haunt me  as I started the coffee and began to prepare breakfast. I forced  myself to analyze the situation in depth, going backwards and forwards  over a tale that seemed more and more incredible. Last night when she  had first told me the story, I had believed her completely. But now in  the cold light of day I started to doubt. I suppose I didn't want to  believe that a father could do this to his own daughter, and instead I  started to wonder if this was some elaborate hoax. 
\par \tab At first I couldn't see a motive for such a flagrant lie. Then  the cynical part of my brain found a reason -- to somehow shame me  into freeing her. Of course, that must be it! I could almost imagine  her lying there alone in the dark, concocting a story loaded with all  the abhorrent images her psych training had taught her. She was just  trying to manipulate me, trying to escape. Happy to find an  explanation, I started to pick holes in her story. One thing hit me  immediately; surely such torture as she had described would leave  scars, huge horrible scars like in the movies. No scars meant no  torture, which meant she was playing me for a sucker! Suddenly I felt  very angry. I wanted to go down there and introduce her to the lash,  help put that added bit of realism into her story. . . 
\par \tab Then I wondered just why the lying bitch should have a  breakfast when poor Maggie was all alone and helpless. 
\par \tab Alone and helpless. . .Then, an evil thought struck me. My old  accomplice Fate had once again delivered me a wonderful opportunity,  if I chose to take it. Of course it would be expensive, but as I'd  pointed out to Caroline taking a slave was far from cheap. As the plan  started to form, a gut-level thrill went through me, and I started  putting together a list of things I'd need. 
\par \tab I was tempted to forget about Caroline and let the bitch fend  for herself, but in the end I relented and decided to make her a  health drink for breakfast. After all, I did want to put her on a diet  and I'd already decided to give her low residue foods while I was away  in Seattle. The image of a helpless Maggie flashed through the window  of my mind. Yes, it would be worth it. My hand shook as I took some  Gatorade and a box of protein powder and loaded up the blender. For my  plan to work I needed to get to Boston *fast*. Fortunately, I knew a  way. All I needed to do was make a few phone calls and find something  for Caroline to do this morning. 
\par \tab The calls were the easy part. Traveling as much as I do has a  few advantages, one of which is that lots of hotel chains and car  rental agencies see you as a valued customer. They're more than  willing to provide an extra service for you, rather than lose you to a  more compliant competitor. Fifteen minutes later and everything was  ready. Now all that was left was Caroline. 
\par \tab I went downstairs with the protein shake and a flask of  coffee. I paused at the table and retrieved some new clothes and  restraints. Then I crumbled a contraceptive pill into her coffee cup  and topped it up. So far she hadn't noticed anything wrong, and soon  I'd start ordering her to take it, adding her reproductive ability (or  inability, as it were) to the things under my obvious control.  
\par \tab She was still asleep when I went inside. I was tempted to  shake her awake and have it out with her right then, but common sense  finally fought through. Instead of waking her, I put the cup on the  dresser and bent down to examine her naked crotch. I had been right  about the stubble -- she would need a shave soon -- but of more  interest to me were her pussy lips. Very gently, so as not to disturb  her, I examined the folds. Even in the dim light, I could see a series  of irregular pockmarked scars about a sixteenth of an inch from the  edge. As I looked closely at the tiny pits, I felt my stomach turn.  Any doubts I still had evaporated as those scars, so exactly like the  ones from a hypodermic, told me that the "butterfly board" was real.  Gently I examined the other side, noticing the corresponding marks  that showed how the needle had gone right through the delicate  membranes. Above me, she moaned, her tongue darting quickly across her  other lips. There was already the suggestion of moisture in her cunt  from my handling of her pussy lips, and her nipples had started to  harden again. 
\par \tab Then I realized what agony it must have been for her; to be  this sensitive and for him to do *that.* I wasn't surprised that she'd  told him about Josh -- in a similar situation, I'd have done anything  to stop the pain. I felt a momentary flash of guilt for having doubted  her, so I reached over and gently stroked her cheek. She woke slowly,  smiling as she attempted to stretch then found that she couldn't. For  an instant she seemed puzzled, then she remembered. Her eyes flickered  open. 
\par \tab I smiled at her. "Time to wake up, lazy bones." 
\par \tab Surprisingly, she smiled back. "Hi Master." 
\par \tab "Not yet, but the day is still young," I said flippantly, and  slapped her bottom. 
\par \tab I helped her up and we went through the coffee and toilet  ritual. She seemed happy; our first therapy session together appeared  to have relaxed her. I knew that she hadn't told me everything,  though. Her story had stopped soon after Josh's death, with three  whole years of horror left. One thing I did find out last night was  that the Reverend Conway could pack a lot of suffering into a year.  The thing I most wanted to know was how she'd escaped. Had she run  away? Did that explain her destitute condition and lack of letters  home? I needed to know before I posted something out of character to  her family and gave the game away. 
\par \tab Still, that could wait. She seemed much better than last night  and I started to feel happier with the idea of leaving her alone for a  while. I led her into the dungeon and removed the posture collar from  her neck, replacing her old collar. After I chained her to the table I  removed the rest of the single sleeve and smiled again. "Ok, get  naked!" 
\par \tab She didn't hesitate, stripping off the remaining latex in  moments. I circled her body, admiring her slim athletic build and  small but perfect breasts. I had come to appreciate just what a find  she was and I could understand why any man would kill to keep her. I  tossed her some leather cuffs which she put on without comment. To put  on the ankle cuffs, she put one foot at a time on the bondage chair  and bent over, and I took the opportunity to look at her back  carefully. The lines were faint, so faint that I wasn't surprised I  had missed them. These were not the vivid scars so beloved of  Hollywood, and I suspected that Conway had been very careful to ensure  that all tell-tale wounds healed properly. Yet faint as they, were the  scars were there. It was more support for her story. 
\par \tab By now she was waiting expectantly, so I handed her the shake.  
\par \tab "What's this?" she asked, looking at the concoction with some  distaste. 
\par \tab "Breakfast," I said. "Michael Jordan's secret recipe. Denis  would *kill* to know what's in it." 
\par \tab She looked blank. "Not a big basketball fan then?" I asked.  Again getting no reply I went for the less subtle approach. "Just  drink it, slave. It's all the meal you're getting this morning."  
\par \tab "Why? Have I upset you in some way?" she asked, almost  fearfully. 
\par \tab "Because if I did I'm sorry. . ." 
\par \tab "No, it's just healthier than the cooked breakfast. Now drink  the fucking shake!" 
\par \tab She chugged it down. I got the feeling that she was trying to  avoid any confrontation, which suited me fine. Most of the last few  days had revolved around her, a situation that couldn't continue if I  wanted to keep working. Now was the obvious time to acquaint her with  the lowliness of her new position; that as a slave, she was just a  possession like any other and had only a limited influence on my life.  Once the shake was finished I clipped her wrists to her collar and  began to dress her. First up came a black leather bondage belt. This  was about three or four inches wide with rings equally spaced around  it. It had buckles on the front and a small catch, and after  tightening it firmly about her narrow waist I locked it in place with  a padlock. She didn't struggle or even comment -- cuffs, gags and  chains were a part of her life now, and I think she'd started to  accept that. Once the belt was locked in place I helped her on to the  table and used cord and straps to tie her down. As before, I strapped  her with her legs parted and her pussy exposed. I wished I had the  time to shave her twat again but I had a lot to do and the clock was  ticking. 
\par \tab Once Caroline was secure I reached over and took a packet from  the table. The packet took some opening as it was designed to keep its  contents sterile. After a struggle I finally got it open and was able  to remove the catheter. This was a small hollow tube surrounded by an  inflatable surgical balloon. I looked for a reaction but it was  obvious she didn't recognize it. She was still wearing the training  harness, so after a little thought I reached over and pushed the ball  against those cherry lips. She opened immediately and I pushed the gag  in, loosely fastening it just enough to hold it in place. Then, using  a small jar of lube, I greased the end of the catheter and parted her  pussy lips. Her clit had already started to swell and as I gently  pushed it out of the way her whole body trembled. Very carefully, I  placed the catheter against her urethra and pushed. A muffled squeal  erupted from the far end of the table, and her hips quaked as her body  fought against the imprisoning bonds. The thin tube slid home into her  bladder, and I slowly inflated the balloon the small amount needed to  seal it in place. Then I removed the pump and waited for her to calm  down. Needless to say this took a while, but eventually she was ready  for the next stage. 
\par \tab I call the device a McGuffin. It's a small oval piece of latex  a little bigger than a woman's labia. One side is plain, and the other  is studded with electrodes and small piezo-electric buzzers. This  particular one had been designed for use with the catheter and had a  small hole between the cluster of electrodes for the clit and those  for the rest of the pussy. Sliding it down the tube, I gently moved it  into best contact . At the other end of the table the moans started  again. Once it was in position, I sealed it in place using surgical  tape, then released Caroline. She stood a little uncertainly; it must  be odd for a woman to suddenly find a pipe between her legs, and she  struggled a bit more than usual as I covered the arrangement with a  special pair of spandex pants. I used a locking belt to fasten the  pants in place then started to apply electrodes to her breasts. She  struggled and moaned into the gag as I stuck a couple of other  McGuffins on top if each nipple. I finished up with an spandex  athletic bra just like those in the shops except modified to lock in  place. Then I removed the gag. 
\par \tab "What are you doing. . .Master?" 
\par \tab "Careful, slave. You almost bought yourself a punishment!"Her  eyes were wide. 
\par \tab "Isn't this a punishment?" I laughed and kissed her forehead.  
\par \tab "Why, have you done anything wrong?" 
\par \tab She thought for a while. "Not as far as I know." 
\par \tab "Then why should I punish you?" It seemed straightforward to  me, but then Conway had never needed a reason to punish her. I smiled.  "I have to go somewhere and I need to keep you busy while I'm gone.  Trust me, all will be revealed!" 
\par \tab She squirmed. "That thing. . .it's uncomfortable." 
\par \tab "Yep, it is." I pushed her back onto the table and locked a  pair of shoes with sensible heels on her dainty little feet.  
\par \tab Realizing she wasn't going to get any sympathy, she pouted for  a while, then seemed to realize that she was ungagged and could talk.  
\par \tab She looked up. "Master?" she asked softly. 
\par \tab I stopped for a moment. "Yes slave?" 
\par \tab "Can we talk about your mother?" 
\par \tab I was puzzled but willing to play along. "I suppose so."  
\par \tab "Do. . .do you love your mother?" 
\par \tab That caught me by surprise. To be honest, my mother was a bit  of a bitch. While my father was tending the store, she'd ruled our  household like a petty tyrant. When it had become clear that I was. .  .different. . .she had pushed me towards greater and greater academic  achievement. If for some reason I didn't jump a grade or score better  than anyone else on a test, she wanted to know why. Thinking back on  it, if it hadn't been for my grandfather's gentle but firm insistence  on letting me have some free time to myself, I don't believe I would  have had a childhood at all. It was my belief that most of my problems  with women had come from her; my desire for sexual dominance, my  status as a power freak, was a subconscious backlash against her total  domination of my childhood. 
\par \tab "Of course I love her," I said, and it was true. After all,  you'd have to be really screwed up not to love your mother.  
\par \tab She gulped a bit. "If something. . .bad was going to happen to  her, something you could prevent, you'd do it, right?" 
\par \tab I attached the leash to her collar and led her over to part of  the dungeon near the cell. "Yes," I said. Caroline seemed to prefer  straight answers. 
\par \tab The floodgates opened. "Please, you have to let me go or he'll  kill her," she begged. 
\par \tab "He'll kill my mother?" Needless to say, I was shocked.  
\par \tab "NO! He'll kill my mother!" she wailed. 
\par \tab I stopped. "When did we start talking about your mother?" I  said, sounding confused. In the back of my mind I could imagine the  laugh track, like this was some weird sitcom. In my head I could  almost hear the intro -- 'New this fall, the hilarious new show  "Master and Slave," coming soon on NBC! Richard Cody, successful  author, kidnaps a girl and keeps her in his basement -- you'll be  rolling with laughter as he tries to keep this fact secret from  friends and family, often with hilarious results!' 
\par \tab "Perhaps if you start again," I said smoothly. "Who's going to  kill who and why?" 
\par \tab She took a deep, halting breath. "Momma wanted me to go to  college, but at first my father wouldn't let me," she said. "Then she  talked him around, but he said he was going to call me every week. If  I ran away or if he found out I'd told anyone, he'd kill her and then  himself--" 
\par \tab "How could he find out?" I asked, annoyed. "That's stupid, he  can't be keeping track of you all the time." 
\par \tab She shook her head. "He has friends in the police, lodge  buddies, he says they'd warn him if the police started getting  interested in him. He'll do it, I know he will!" 
\par \tab So she hadn't escaped him. She was still as much his prisoner  now as she had been in that attic. Conway still had her on a tight  leash; only the nature of the chain and its length were different.  While I could believe that he had contacts in local law enforcement  and even see how they might tip him off, there was no way he could  have everything covered. Then I looked at Caroline and saw the fear in  those blue eyes, and I realized it didn't have to make sense as long  as *SHE* believed it. Still, I was intrigued enough to want to know  more. 
\par \tab "So he let you leave town on the understanding that he was to  know where you are and that you were to keep quiet about the things he  did," I said. 
\par \tab She nodded and looked down. 
\par \tab I reached over and forced her to look at me. "What if he were  to order you back?" 
\par \tab She sniffed. "I had to come at once." 
\par \tab "He specifically told you that?" 
\par \tab She nodded again. "He said that if I disobeyed, it would be  Momma who was punished because it was her idea." 
\par \tab Somehow I didn't think he would limit the punishment to just  the mother. So he'd let Caroline go. Suddenly, the alarm bells in the  back of my mind were on overload. One thing I'd learned was that he  did nothing without a reason, and I knew for sure was that whatever  that reason was, it hadn't been to please his slave wife. No, if  Charles Conway had allowed Caroline out of town then he had something  in mind and from experience it wasn't going to be pleasant. Conway's  plans tended to be pretty straight-forward. He didn't mislead or  bluff; instead, he relied on using his position in the local community  to best effect. I was sure that had the Conways not been the family of  the local minister, someone would have spotted the abuse long before  now. But then, as Caroline had said, who would suspect the nicest man  in town? Hell, even I'd thought she was lying. I guess people just  don't want to believe something like that. 
\par \tab I analyzed the problem. I could see no obvious benefit for  getting her out of town, but then I didn't have all the data he did.  However I knew there was a reason and it would be obvious from  Conway's point of view. Then something else popped into my head.  
\par \tab "Hey, wait a minute! If he's told you that he intends to call  you back, then what was that 'offer' of yours?" 
\par \tab "My offer was good." 
\par \tab "Bullshit! If he called you back to Iowa, how could you have  been my slave here? You lied, you little bitch." 
\par \tab She flushed. "I don't think he'll call. I've been away almost  eight months and I've been able to avoid going home even during  vacations. He hasn't said anything. I'm almost free." 
\par \tab I shook my head. "No you're not. He's just played out the line  a little, that's all. He has every intention of reeling you back."  
\par \tab A look of fear crossed her face. "Oh no. I mean, he wouldn't-- " 
\par \tab "He would," I said harshly. "My guess is he was going to do it  soon, otherwise he'd have given you some more money." 
\par \tab "I don't see. . ." 
\par \tab "You're on a scholarship, right?" 
\par \tab She nodded. 
\par \tab "What is it, a hundred percent of tuition costs?" 
\par \tab She nodded again, a worried look spreading across her face.  
\par \tab "And he pays for your rent, food and things. I mean, he gives  you money for that." 
\par \tab "Yes," she whispered. 
\par \tab "Let me tell you what's happened and you correct me if I'm  wrong. He's never really given you enough to live on, so it's always  been a struggle. He's said something about working your way through  college builds character. He hasn't worried when your grades have  suffered as a result. Recently, he's sent you even less money, and  he's been making noises about coming for a visit." 
\par \tab By now the look of alarm had turned almost to panic. "Next  month. But how. . ." 
\par \tab "I'm afraid it's obvious. He's coming to get you to take you  back," I said. 
\par \tab Her face filled with horror. "Back. . ." 
\par \tab "Probably straight back to the attic, so that he can purge you  of any independent thoughts." 
\par \tab "NO!" she shrieked. "Please God, NO! I've left, I'm 
\par independent. Never again! Oh, God, never again!" 
\par \tab "You never left," I said sadly. "He wanted you out of the way  for some reason. He never had any intention of letting you finish that  course." I continued to lead her gently towards the far corner of the  dungeon. "You see, if you fail or he brings you back, the tuition fee  will be wasted but he doesn't care because he's not paying it. The  maintenance fee is something he *does* pay, which is why he's keeping  it as cheap as possible. That's why he never gave you enough money,  and he hasn't sent you any more because he knows you won't be needing  it. Besides, he figures you may fear the attic more than what he'll do  to Momma, so the less money you have, the less chance there is that  you'll run." 
\par \tab The tears streamed down her face. "No!" she screamed, "you're  just saying that so you don't have to let me go! He couldn't. . .*I  can't!*" 
\par \tab I looked her in the eye. "Slave, I don't have to let you go.  Even if he was intending to flay your mother alive, it's no skin off  my nose." I winced at the subconscious pun. "What I mean is, I'm the  only one who has no problem being honest with you because I *know*  what you're going to do." 
\par \tab "And that is?" 
\par \tab "Exactly what *I* tell you," I said. 
\par \tab She looked down deep in misery. 
\par \tab By now we had come to the far corner and a couple of items  which were covered by dust sheets. Still sniffing, she looked at them  with some trepidation, probably thinking they were some arcane torture  device. And in fact she was right, as she saw when I pulled the sheet  aside. I'd seen this thing on a late night infomercial about a year  ago. It was an exercise machine that looked like a cross between a  bicycle and a rowing machine. You sit on it and while your legs turn  some pedals your arms pull the handles towards you. I used it  successfully until I moved into the house and had access to a  dedicated multigym, at which point I moved the machine down here. Of  course, I had to modify it for its use as a slave trainer. First, I  welded extra cross members to the frame, to strengthen it and make  sure it couldn't collapse. Then I added some mounting points for  restraints. Finally I attached some accelerometers and tension gauges  so that the computer could monitor its use.  
\par \tab She looked stunned. "I said you needed exercise," I said  cheerfully. 
\par \tab "Please no! We need to talk about Momma. . .I need to talk."  
\par \tab "I'm sorry, but I don't have time. Now do what you're told or  I'll find something even more uncomfortable to keep you occupied."  
\par \tab She lowered her head and sobbed once, then nodded. 
\par \tab I removed the gag trainer and helped her on to the machine. I  fastened her right wrist to a small length of chain attached to the  handles. I needed to leave one hand free for drinking, so I made sure  it wasn't her 'good' one. 
\par \tab Finally she spoke. "Why did he let me go if he was going to  bring me back?" 
\par \tab "He has a reason," I said. "The fact that we can't figure it  out doesn't mean it doesn't exist." 
\par \tab "But my Momma said--" 
\par \tab "She said what she wanted to believe, or what *he* wanted her  to believe. Ask yourself this: how could she persuade him to do  anything not in his own interest? Can she withdraw sex? Can she go  away? Can she even have a fight with him?" 
\par \tab "I never thought. . .I mean, I was just so happy to be  leaving." 
\par \tab By now I'd fastened the bondage belt to chains coming from the  seat so that she couldn't stand up. Then as she sat thinking, I used  small chains to secure her feet and ankle cuffs to the pedals. Once  she was strapped down I started with the rest. I attached a small box  to the back of the bondage belt. This had a number of wires which I  connected to the electrodes on her body and to the McGuffins.  \tab She sobbed a little. "I'll never get away, ever." 
\par \tab "You are away," I said lightly, "and you're never going back."  
\par \tab She looked at me, her eyes full of a curious mixture of hope  and fear. "But my Momma?" 
\par \tab "I have an idea," I said. "But it will require your complete  co-operation." 
\par \tab "Anything," she said. 
\par \tab "You said that before and didn't mean it." 
\par \tab "To save my Momma, anything!" she said firmly. 
\par \tab "Good girl," I said, smiling. Always praise the slave when she  does well. 
\par \tab I put a sweat band on her left wrist and showed her the small  table with the water containers on it, then made the final  connections. I fastened a small hose to the end of the catheter that  poked through the pants. This ended in a bucket behind the machine. I  got her to pee and confirmed that there were no leaks and that the  amber liquid flowed easily into the container. Finally, it was time  for the final piece. I showed her the light weight VR helmet before I  put it on her so that she wasn't too frightened. I'd modified the  basic unit quite a bit to ensure that it couldn't be removed or  tampered with, but in essence it is similar in design to the ones Sega  sells. The only real technical difference was that it uses a flat CRT  rather that an LCD module. After I told her what it was for, she  seemed happy for me to strap it on her. 
\par \tab The helmet would display a crude VR environment for her to  cycle through. The virtual course was divided into sections. If she  made the sections on time, the McGuffins would reward her with a  little sexual stimulation. Failure meant a shock. At random intervals  she would hear my voice giving her some new instructions. Obedience  meant reward, and she figured out what happened if she disobeyed.  Happy that she was set, I kissed her cheek for luck and started the  program. 
\par \tab Once she was started, I looked at my watch and cursed. My  schedule was slipping. Locking the dungeon door behind me I ran  upstairs. First up was the utility room and the pile of dirty clothes  from the last week. Rooting around, I finally found the sweats I'd  worn during the kidnapping. As I hoped they smelt of old sweat and  dirt, with perhaps a hint of Caroline's perfume. There was still a ski  mask in the pocket which I'd intended to wear. I thought again of how  I rushed out and took her. I must have been insane. I opened one of  the closets and got out a huge duffel bag. When I'd been working  through the kidnapping I'd toyed with the idea of carrying Caroline  out of her apartment block in this. I'd come to the conclusion that it  could work but would look so unusual that it was bound to be  remembered. So the idea was discarded, but I'd kept the bag.  
\par \tab In went the sweats, some sneakers and a couple of rolls of  duct tape. Charging through into the kitchen I added some Saran wrap  and a small pile of Ace bandages. Last stop was my office. I found the  DAT recorder straight away but couldn't find a blank tape. Searching  my desk drawers, I finally found one and as an unexpected bonus a  bottle of a cheap and very nasty aftershave someone had bought me one  Christmas. Everything went into the bag. As a final thought I threw in  my Powerbook and portable printer. As I didn't have time to change out  of my master's outfit of shirt and leather pants, I pulled on my  favorite leather flying jacket so that at least my clothes matched.  Still cursing the clock, I charged to the back of the house and waited  by the back door. 
\par \tab By now Caroline would be part through the first section. Soon  she would be getting her first taste of the obedience test. Not being  a cruel man I'd decided to help her out. Every time my voice gave her  an order the helmet would briefly flash the word "OBEY," driving the  command subliminally into her subconscious mind. She was so  suggestible, I was certain she would make a good subject. By the time  I came home her mind would be a little closer to being mine.  
\par \tab I was still thrilling at the thought of it when the helicopter  landed on the back lawn. I grabbed the duffel bag, locked the door and  ran out. 
\par \tab I climbed in. "Mr Cody?" the pilot asked. The guy looked like  the chopper pilots you see on TV -- short haircut, aviator shades,  baseball cap and a huge pair of headphones. 
\par \tab "Yes," I bawled, trying desperately to be heard. 
\par \tab He offered his hand. "Bob Wilson -- I'll be your pilot today."  He showed me how to fasten the harness. I put on the headset he gave  me and was relieved when the wall of sound subsided. "I was told you  want to go to Boston?" 
\par \tab "Yes, a panic business meeting. I need to get there ASAP."  
\par \tab "Understood, Mr Cody. ASAP is the only way we work around  here." 
\par \tab Bob seemed a pleasant enough fellow. I got the feeling that  perhaps some of his customers weren't that comfortable flying, as he  had this patter worked out where he gave a running commentary on  everything he was doing. He kept cracking jokes and making light of  the fact that we were shooting cross country at better than 100 miles  an hour. For the most part I let him talk while mentally building up  checklists of things to do. I was so distracted that it seemed like no  time before we were setting down at a small private airfield just  outside Boston. 
\par \tab Thanking Bob and giving him a generous tip for his speed, I  started across the grass towards the control tower. Nearby a pretty  brown haired girl stood near the driver's side door of a Chevy mini  van. Her blue blazer and sensible gray skirt identified her as a  representative of a well known rental agency. I was looking at the  grass for most of the time in order to shield my head from the wash of  the departing helicopter, and when I looked up I got a shock. For an  instant I thought the girl was gagged; it seemed that a large red ball  had been pulled between her teeth. As I got closer I realized it was  just imagination. 
\par \tab She smiled and stepped forward, offering her hand. "Mr Cody. I  must say you know how to make a spectacular entrance." 
\par \tab I looked her over. She was perhaps three or four years older  than Caroline, with large, almost luminous gray eyes. She wore her  hair in a business-like shoulder-length bob. Her makeup was  conservative, except perhaps for her lipstick which was a shocking  red. Suddenly I realized what had just happened -- the color was the  same as the one Caroline used, one I'd deliberately picked to match  the red of her ballgag. Mental association, or something more? In that  split second I checked out her ring hand, the state of her shoes and  her name badge. Her name was Penny Jackson, she was single and quite  junior in the company, which was probably why she was delivering cars  to the middle of nowhere. 
\par \tab "I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a hurry, Penny, " I said warmly.  "Do you have the agreement?" 
\par \tab "Oh yes, sorry." She smiled again and I watched as her pupils  dilated slightly. Penny was young and easily impressed. I was probably  the closest thing to a celebrity she'd ever met, and if I was  interested I was sure I could score quite easily. We went though the  formalities with little difficulty, since membership has its  privileges and a platinum card speaks very loudly. I offered her a  lift back to Boston but with some regret she pointed to another car  parked nearby with a bored looking young man behind the wheel. Still,  I took her business card so that I could arrange pickup later, then I  threw the duffel bag in the back and headed for town. 
\par \tab On the way in I daydreamed; pretty little Penny bound, gagged  and struggling. Penny and Caroline, girl to girl. Of course any  thoughts I had of adding her to my little harem were just a fantasy,  although the thought of a brunette to round out my collection was  quite tempting. With some difficulty I refocused on Maggie.  
\par \tab It was now over an hour since I received the call, but my two  hour estimate had been very optimistic, something Maggie would have  realized. Bottom line was that I could now reach her apartment long  before she was expecting me. Now was time to finalize the plan. The  core idea of the plan was fairly simple: Maggie is bound and helpless  in her apartment waiting the two or more hours it will take for  Richard Cody, her trusted friend, to speed to her rescue from the  backwoods of darkest New England. However, before he gets there she  has an unexpected visitor in the form of a sneak thief who happens  upon her as he's turning over her apartment. There she is, helpless  and in a sexually provocative position with a complete stranger. Well,  not exactly a complete stranger. . . 
\par \tab The reason I'd rushed to Boston was so that I could play the  intruder. Maggie was fairly smart and being a practical joker herself  she was likely to smell a setup. I was hoping that the 'stranger'  arriving so early -- long before I could be expected to show up --  would sell it to her. 
\par \tab Unfortunately I was likely to blow the plan the moment I  opened my mouth. I'm fairly good at accents but the basic tone of my  voice remains the same. I experimented with different voices as I  fought the traffic but it was still no good. Then I had a revelation.  If I were a foreigner, then I might stand a better chance of pulling  it off. Broken English with a scattering of foreign words and  expressions might just disguise my voice enough. In addition, it gave  me a good excuse not to say that much in English. 
\par \tab I speak six languages, four fairly fluently. The obvious  choice was Spanish but I knew that Maggie spoke it too and could  probably spot my accent. Russian would be good, especially with all  the news coverage the Russian Mafia have been getting lately. The  problem was, Maggie knew I spoke Russian. In the end I settled on  French; internally it made more sense anyway, what with Quebec only a  few miles to the north. I would be a French Canadian burglar, down in  Boston to pull a few jobs before heading north again. I practiced the  accent, trying hard to lower my voice a little. In my mind he started  to form, taking on more and more substance as I worked out a back  story. I stopped and wondered if she deserved it, but the twenty-first  birthday thing had only been one of the awful practical jokes she'd  pulled on me and payback was long overdue. 
\par \tab I checked into a mid-priced motel about three blocks from  Maggie's apartment building. I had a reservation so things went  relatively smoothly. I shot the guy on the desk a line about needing a  quiet place to work in and a large tip got me a room in the next block  with no neighbors. With time now a factor, I went inside and got set  up. For the most part this involved getting changed into the sweats  I'd brought, slapping on some of the aftershave and recording a couple  of things on the DAT machine. I placed a call to Maggie's department  at the university and told them that she had a bad headache and  wouldn't be in today. They accepted it easily, since her job was pure  research with few teaching commitments. I unloaded the things I  wouldn't need from the duffel bag and set off. 
\par \tab I had a copy of Maggie's key, an arrangement that dated from  the time I lived in Boston. I don't know if she even remembered giving  it to me but it would make things a lot easier. Like the night before,  I entered the basement car park and found Maggie's space. Then I  hoisted the duffel bag over my shoulder and headed to the lift. The  trip up was uneventful and this time there were no interruptions apart  from the hideous muzac they seemed to play during the day. I reached  Maggie's floor without disturbance and was relieved to find that the  corridor outside her apartment was empty. 
\par \tab Pausing outside, I deliberately fumbled with the lock for a  few minutes. I can actually pick locks, a skill I learned at MIT, but  it took some time and though I wanted to give the impression I was  breaking in, I didn't want to chance her neighbors calling the cops.  Finally, I inserted the key in the lock and waited. I had the ski mask  in my pocket and I could have put it on, but again knowing my luck  someone would come past right then. I took a deep breath. If Maggie  had decided to tie herself in the living room then all this trouble  and expense would be for nothing. Gently, I opened the door and went  inside. 
\par \tab The room was dark as the drapes were still drawn, and it took  a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. By the dim light of the one  working lamp, I could see that the room was pretty much as I'd left it  last night. Maggie wasn't there. Taking the DAT machine from my pocket  I quickly rewound the tape, deliberately making noise as I circled the  room. When the tape was rewound and I was sure that any occupant of  the apartment had heard me, I pushed play and set the machine on the  coffee table. 
\par \tab A shaft of light shone from beneath the bedroom door. As I  drew closer, I could hear faint movement inside. I took another deep  breath, pulled on the ski mask and quietly opened the door.  \tab Maggie lay on the bed. When she heard the door open, she made  a supreme effort to sit up. She was dressed in the hooker outfit I'd  bought her, all shiny leather and PVC. As she managed to face the door  , I realized that the ski mask was unnecessary. Her eyes were covered  with the light padded blindfold I'd bought. Her mouth chewed on the  ballgag, and she groaned and thrust her crotch up into the air, making  suggestive little mewing noises. Then I realized that she had no way  to measure time. To her it must have seemed like several hours since  the call. She obviously thought it was me and her waving hips were a  clear invitation. 
\par \tab As I got closer I admired her handiwork. She had used a good  part of the cord I'd bought to tie her ankles to a broom handle as an  improvised spreader bar. Her wrists were pinioned behind her back, I  assumed with the handcuffs. A small length of yellow cable came  through a gap at her zipped crotch and ended in a small battery box.  
\par \tab "Hummmph," she moaned. 
\par \tab "Merde!" I knew immediately that I'd hit the right tone  perfectly. 
\par \tab Maggie stiffened. As I'd intended, she was surprised by the  response. The first part of convincing her I was a stranger had begun.  I muttered a few things in French about who had done this and what was  going on. Getting no indication of comprehension, I felt it was safe  to come closer. Hearing me, she started struggling in earnest but it  was obvious she wasn't going anywhere. For my imaginary stranger, the  French Canadian burglar, there was only one question: 
\par \tab "Etes-vous seule?" I demanded. 
\par \tab "Hummphh. . .UM Iee Eeee." 
\par \tab "Pardon?" 
\par \tab "Hummm." 
\par \tab "Oui.......le baillon! Errr, Mademoiselle. . .you must  promise. No noise, oui?" 
\par \tab She paused, then nodded so I reached behind her head and  released the strap. As with Caroline, I left it dangling around her  neck. 
\par \tab "Water," she croaked, so I poured a glass from the jug by her  bedside and held it to her lips. She drank greedily for a few seconds,  then started sniffing near my sleeve. The smell of sweat and cheap  cologne hung in the air. This was not a Cody smell, and yet another  part of my deception was established. 
\par \tab I put the glass down and we waited a while, the room quiet but  for the insistent sound of the off hook telephone. Reaching down, I  picked it up from the floor and replaced the handset, then noisily  placed the phone back on the bedside table. She jumped and 'looked'  around nervously. I felt she was starting to buy my act. 
\par \tab "Please can you untie me?" she asked, twisting her shoulders  around so as to get her bound hands as close to me as possible. I  could see I'd been right about the handcuffs. I could also see what a  struggle she'd had. The once glossy surface of the PVC gloves near her  wrist had been worn away. In fact, the cheap gloves had been what had  kept her prisoner; they had slipped during her struggles but only  enough to stop any chance of her working her wrists free of the cuffs.  
\par \tab "C'est. . .it is impossible, handcuffs. No key, eh?"  
\par \tab "The key is on the bed somewhere." I looked and after a while  I found it under a pillow. She seemed to sense this because she thrust  her arms towards me. I reached down to the cuffs -- and closed them an  extra click. 
\par \tab "What are you doing?" Her voice had that edge of panic that I  liked. 
\par \tab "My job," I said off handedly and reached for the gag.  
\par \tab "No please. . .who are you?" 
\par \tab At last, the question I'd been waiting for. "How you say -- le  cambrioleur?" 
\par \tab "I'm sorry?" 
\par \tab "Le burglar...? My gloved hand covered her mouth just as she  was about to scream. A faint shriek came out and she struggled wildly  but her position was hopeless. 
\par \tab I grabbed the ball and started to bring it up to her mouth; a  gagged Maggie could ask no questions and so reduce the amount of  talking *I* needed to do. Sensing I was about to silence her again she  started struggling and shaking her head. For my own reasons I would  need to work on the gag soon anyway so I decided that "le cambrioleur"  should have a change of heart. 
\par \tab "Mademoiselle, please." She stopped struggling. "I will leave.  . .le baillon?" I tugged at the strap until she realized what I was  trying to say. 
\par \tab "The gag?" 
\par \tab "Oui. No baillon if you quiet until I am gone." 
\par \tab She understood and nodded. I removed the gag from around her  neck and pocketed it. Then I started to noisily search the rooms.  Maggie didn't have much, almost all her unspectacular pay went towards  the future purchase of her dream house. In addition she was a bit of  an intellectual elitist and shunned such items as a TV. Consequently,  her apartment had little a burglar would find interesting. But I  stayed in character and searched the place methodically while she  struggled on the bed. Two things I did check was the availability of  Saran Wrap in the kitchen and that she had bandages in the bathroom  cabinet. I had brought my own, but I didn't want to give the game away  by using something unusual that she knew wasn't in the house.  
\par \tab "Please," she called. "I need the toilet?" That was good  because I needed her to go anyway, so with much gallic swearing I  undid the spreader. I found the rope looser than I expected -- she was  probably only minutes away from freeing her legs. I gathered up the  loose cord and tied it to the leather collar she wore and using it as  a leash guided her to the bathroom. I reached between her legs and  opened the zipper and was rewarded by the smell of hot pussy. Removing  the vibrator, I noted the dampness of her crotch. She turned a bright  beet root color from the embarrassment but the sight of her erect  nipples as they pushed through the peepholes in the leather cups gave  the game away. The little slut was getting turned on! Like Caroline,  she seemed to get quite uncomfortable having me watch while she peed,  but in the end she had to put up with it. Then I dried her and led her  back to the bedroom. 
\par \tab "Please, you should leave now, my boyfriend will be back  soon." 
\par \tab I grunted. "This boyfriend, he tie you?" 
\par \tab She turned red again. "Yes, it's a sex game, you know? He only  stepped out for some cigarettes. He'll be back soon." 
\par \tab I let the sentence hang in the air a while as if I was  considering it. 
\par \tab "Non, you lie. If boyfriend tie, *he* would have key."  
\par \tab "But--" 
\par \tab I placed a gloved finger to her lips. "Shussh!" I took her  head and forced her to nod and then shake. "Just this, eh?"  
\par \tab She nodded. 
\par \tab "Magnetoscope, stereo?" She shook her head. "You have jewels?  A safe?" She shook her head again. I went through her purse checking  credit and cash cards. "The cards, tell me the numbers!" She  stiffened. I knew one of these was the dream house account and  contained almost all the money she had made in her life. I had the  feeling that she wouldn't give me that without a fight. Pursing her  lip, she shook her head. 
\par \tab "C'est la vie!" I said and stuffed the gag back into her  mouth. She complained, but there was little she could do. She fought a  little when I removed the thigh high boots and tied her ankles to the  bed, but the blindfold kept her from seeing just what I had planned. I  went to the linen closet and removed what I needed. 
\par \tab At the first touch of the feather duster against the bare  soles of her feet she gave a strange little gurgling sound. Soon the  room was full of muffled laughter. She thrashed around as much as the  bonds allowed and the first tears started to creep from behind the  blindfold. I was glad she'd used the toilet because by now I was sure  she'd lost all body control. I'd left the zipper open and gradually  started moving the duster up her legs, against her thigh, her pussy  lips. She went crazy in a strange flux between being tickled and  turned on. Her gagged voice begged for mercy but I was relentless,  working her over until all the fight had been laughed out of her. The  duster danced over her body, driving her more and more wild, pushing  her way beyond any reasonable limit. Then when she was almost  completely out of her mind I stopped. 
\par \tab "Enough?" I asked. She nodded weakly. 
\par \tab I removed the gag and asked for the PIN numbers and the  amounts in the accounts. She seemed drained and strangely submissive.  I noted the information for later. The figures for her main account  were not that impressive; she always transferring any excess to the  house account. However the dream house account was different. I  couldn't tell if she was lying but the amount seemed about right. I  made a point of whistling when she gave the balance. While she was  weak I asked other questions like where she worked and how much she  could take out of the accounts in a week. I think she was too far gone  to see where this was heading and gave fairly truthful answers. While  this was going on I was wrapping an Ace bandage around the ball of the  gag making it larger. In the back of my mind a counter that had  started when I entered her apartment was counting down. 
\par \tab Then the knock came. We both jumped, but in my case it was to  clamp a hand over her mouth. Then from outside the room my voice said,  "Maggie? Are you all right?" She stiffened, then started to struggle  in earnest, trying to throw me off. I clamped my hand harder over her  mouth as she continued to scream. Then the voice continued.  
\par \tab "Maggie, listen, I need to find the super and get him to open  the door. I'll try and keep him out of there but there may be nothing  I can do -- is that all right?" 
\par \tab She screamed into my hand. 
\par \tab "Look, I can't hear you. I'll be fifteen, twenty minutes tops,  okay?" 
\par \tab That had sold it to her. I think half of her suspected it was  a joke and that I was the Frenchman. To some extent she had played  along. Now, thanks to the recording on the DAT player, she had heard  me outside and suddenly in her mind she was alone and helpless with a  stranger. 
\par \tab She struggled as I forced the enlarged gag into her mouth and  pulled the strap tight. The bandage covered ball was a real mouth  filler and her screams were reduced to almost nothing. She must have  realized this because she stopped screaming at once and just lay there  trembling. I went to the duffel bag and got out more bandages, the  duct tape and the plastic wrap. 
\par \tab Looking at the small pile of discarded cord I suddenly had an  idea. Quickly I fashioned a device I'd learned about in books. When I  tied the cord around her waist she didn't seem to notice, being more  concerned with chewing the ball. Even when I pulled one end between  her legs she didn't understand. Still, she would find out more in a  second. Taking the roll of Saran Wrap I went to work. 
\par \tab She struggled as I wound the Saran Wrap around her legs. As I  wanted to be able to bend her knees I carefully left them unwrapped  but continued with her thighs. Then I rolled her over and did the same  with her arms pulling her shoulders back and thrusting her breasts out  in the process. Her struggles became weaker as she had less and less  to work with. When I went over the Saran Wrap with the duct tape she  became even more helpless. As I used the tape to secure the tops of  her arms to her torso, the fight left her. She just lay there as I  hog-tied her, though she showed some interest when I took the rope  between her legs and secured part of it to her wrists. As a crotch  rope this was a masterpiece. Two parallel cords held apart by a  massive knot ran either side of the pussy holding the lips open and  exposing the clit. A third rope passed between them, deliberately  passing tightly through the pussy and bringing several rough knots in  contact with her nub. It was this rope that was bound to her wrists  and it took her no time to realize that she could vary the pressure  and move the knots over her sensitive bud with the little hand  movement she had left. 
\par \tab However, she also found out how frustrating it was; while  almost any movement brought some stimulation, getting enough to make a  real difference would take a lot of effort. Still, her 'struggles'  again became quite animated and the smell of hot pussy started to fill  the room. 
\par \tab We both knew that a line had been crossed. This was the first  overtly sexual thing the "Burglar" had done. Before now he had been  content to keep her quiet while her searched for valuables, now he was  making it clear that he had found something of value between her legs.  Maggie shivered and moaned, though it was hard to tell if this were  fear or anticipation. 
\par \tab I stroked her cheek. "You like, Mademoiselle?" 
\par \tab She shook her head defiantly. I looked down and saw her hard  little nipples where they poked through the peepholes. They told  another story. 
\par \tab I brushed a hand over her exposed clit, felt the moisture and  heard a muffled gasp. "You little flower says different, eh?"  
\par \tab She turned away. As she wasn't saying much I didn't feel too  bad strengthening the gag a little. As I'd done with Caroline I  covered the lower part of Maggie's face entirely with duct tape, criss  crossing her mouth and sealing the ball in place. Then I wound a tight  bandage over the top, squeezing her cheeks in and reducing her moans  to whispers. The tweaked nipple test showed that she was effectively  muzzled and the partial mummification had robbed her of her ability to  move. Opening the duffel bag up on the bed next to her, I rolled her  inside. Then she suddenly realized what I had in mind. She screamed  but I could barely hear it even this close and her struggles only  succeeded in rubbing that frustrating crotch strap against her exposed  pussy. Even as I was pulling the bag closed around her I could tell  that she was more intent with getting off than getting free.  
\par \tab I put the slut boots into the bag, together with some of her  more slutty street clothes and a little makeup. After all, Maggie  would need something to wear later . Besides, it helped make the bag  appear less body shaped. 
\par \tab "Mademoiselle, ecoute! We will leave now before your friend  returns. You will be my guest for a few days only." I took the knife  I'd used to cut the saran wrap and teased her neck with the point. She  stiffened and the cold steel touched her skin. I moved the knife away.  
\par \tab "Trouble me and I have a knife, comprendre?" 
\par \tab She nodded and I zipped the bag closed. She was quite heavy  and I was glad I didn't have to carry her any distance. Throwing her  over my shoulder I went out into the living room. Quickly pocketing  the DAT I went over to the door and opened it a crack. The corridor  outside her apartment seemed quiet enough. I was so caught up with the  thrill of it all that for a moment I forgot I was wearing the ski  mask. I snatched it off and stuck it in my pocket then, trying to move  a loosely as possible so as to disguise the weight of the bag, I  ambled towards the elevator. It seemed to take forever to arrive and  even before the doors opened I could hear the voices inside. Maggie  had heard them too because I could hear the gagged moans close to my  ear. It was a 50/50 chance which way they would turn on leaving the  elevator but there were fewer apartments to the left so I quickly  darted to that side and waited, my heart in my throat as Maggie  continued to squirm behind me. The door opened, and they turned right,  two guys dressed like they were back from jogging. Before the doors  closed I'd dashed inside. I doubt they even knew I was there.  
\par \tab I held my breath as we neared the lobby. Some elevators  automatically stop and open at the lobby even if they haven't been  called. The last thing I wanted was for the doors to open and there be  a dozen people waiting, especially as right now I had the biggest  hardon in my life. Fortunately, that didn't happen and the elevator  continued to the basement car park. Maggie was struggling as much as  she could and trying desperately to scream, but her cries were  ineffective. I doubt they could have been heard more that a few feet  away. Still, her weak struggles did shift some of her weight and made  her difficult to hold. I staggered over to the mini van and used the  famous self-opening side door to get the struggling bundle into the  back seat. I strapped her down with a couple of lap belts, then pushed  the seat as far forward as I could. Climbing inside I moved the  driver's seat hard back, trapping Maggie in a small padded box formed  from the seats. The van had tinted windows so no one could see in  through the sides, and arrangement of the seats hid her from oncoming  traffic. I was careful in positioning the bag; when opened, it would  be easy to see her face, and tits and cunt were strategically close to  the gap between the front seats for easy access. In fact ,when we were  out of the garage I felt comfortable enough to open the bag and look  at my captive. I was relieved to see she was breathing normally, and  though most of her face was covered the little moans she made told me  of her appreciation of the crotch strap. 
\par \tab Though I had a room a few blocks away I decided to give Maggie  an adventure and plotted a route that would take me out of the city  via the Tobin Bridge. After the bridge, Highway 1 heads north and I  suppose it could be an eccentric way of heading for the Canadian  border. The important thing was that it had toll booths and Maggie  would hear the sound and know we were leaving town. I think there was  construction because there were jams on the approach to the bridge and  I had to keep stopping. Still, I had Maggie's compliant if not  necessarily willing body to play with as I waited. I stroked and  teased listening to the little sounds that she was making and smelling  the perfume of her hot pussy. For a few blocks I played tag with a  little red open top with an out of state license plate reading MISS T.  I don't know if this was a pun on Misty or if she was some beauty  pageant winner but the car's owner was a real looker and knew it. She  was in her early twenties, with fluffy blonde hair, dark glasses and  an attitude that needed serious adjustment. I accidentally blocked her  way at an intersection and at the next block she deliberately cut me  up. Five minutes later we were parked side by side and she looked over  at me like I was dirt. I smiled and she tossed her head back again  making it clear she didn't want my company. I had my hand down between  the front seats playing with Maggie's nipples and listening to her  muffled protests. My hand drifted down and played with the crotch  strap, Maggie moaned some more, but despite the window being open Miss  T heard nothing. She continued to pretend to ignore me while I  thrilled with the knowledge that she would never know I had a helpless  girl bound and gagged on my back seat. At the lights she squealed  away, gaining perhaps a car length on me for her trouble. I smiled,  thinking just how easily it could be Maggie in the little sports car  and Miss T on my back seat. 
\par \tab Finally we reached the bridge. The tolls are automated so  there was little chance of detection, and soon I was the other side of  the river. I did a large circle using Highway 28, imagining Maggie's  despair and desperation mounting with every mile. I zipped up the  duffel bag and stopped at a gas station to get some chocolate. The  place was quiet but there were enough people around for Maggie to hear  and try to contact. Needless to say, no one noticed anything wrong. I  headed back towards Boston with the biggest hardon in history, and a  helpless captive ready to satisfy it. The traffic was better on the  way back in and in no time I was at the motel. I zipped up Maggie's  bag in case a passerby looked through the driver's window, and opened  the door to the room. I spent a moment drawing the drapes against  inquisitive eyes then brought Maggie inside. 
\par \tab She was in quite a state. Her body was covered in sweat, hair  plastered down to her skull. Her erect nipples were poking through the  peepholes in the corselet and seemed a little red. I could only assume  that she had been using the rough fabric of the bag to maximum effect.  Needless to say her clit was engorged. I had almost expected friction  burns but apparently there was more than enough lubrication.  
\par \tab As I eased her out of the bag, she started floundering about  like a fish out of water. For a moment I thought that she was  struggling to escape but then I realized the truth, she was trying for  an orgasm. I sat and watched the valiant struggle. She came close on a  number of occasions but finally she fell back, exhausted and  frustrated. I smiled, thinking how strange it was that reality so  closely followed art. I had got the design of the crotch strap from a  trashy bondage novel about a white slaver. After capture he fits one  to all of his 'recruits' in order to prevent escape. The idea was that  any attempt to struggle causes sexual stimulation which distracts the  victim, causing them to fail to get free. Though Maggie could not  possibly get free the strap was having a similar effect. She would  struggle and build up her level of excitement, but only being able to  nose breathe she was unable to get off before oxygen debt forced her  to stop. She panted and shivered. Ready if not exactly willing, she  waited for her kidnapper to take her. 
\par \tab I smiled. She would have to wait a little longer. Using the  knife I cut her legs free. Instead of the kicking I'd expected, she  pushed down, thrusting her shaved crotch upwards. The little slut was  begging for it, but I would not oblige just yet. I improvised a  modified hogtie using tape and cord. First I taped both ankles  together with each foot against the opposite calf. This forced her  legs open into a rigid triangle with knees horizontal and out of the  way. It left her pussy exposed and gave her no way to protect it. Then  I bound the ankles to the wrists, making her body rigid and reducing  her movement to virtually nothing. She moaned and struggled but could  do nothing more. Satisfied that she was under control, I removed the  gag. As expected she wanted water first so I placed the glass to her  lips and let her drink just enough to take the edge off her thirst.  Then I turned her so that her head was over the side of the bed and  undid my fly. She knew what was coming and lay quietly while I  explained the penalty for biting. As it turned out I needn't have  worried. The gag had strained her jaw muscles to the point where I  doubt she could bite anyway. Needless to say, it wasn't the worlds  greatest blow job. I did consider punishing her for bad technique but  there seemed little point since she was physically unable to do  better. Finally I came, though it was more through my efforts than  hers. I forced her to swallow, then moved her into the center of the  bed. 
\par \tab I spent a few minutes stripping the sodden bandage off the  ball gag while she worked on putting her jaw in order. We both  finished about the same time, and I pushed the ball against her lips.  \tab "Please no," she begged. 
\par \tab "Oui," I said. "I must go to le Banque." 
\par \tab "Bank? Please no! That's all I have!" Her voice was panicked.  
\par \tab "That is all right, mademoiselle, it is all I need!"  
\par \tab "Please," she said thrusting her chest outwards. "I have other  things I could offer. . ." 
\par \tab I laughed, a gravelly, hearty sound that surprised even me.  "Do not worry, mademoiselle, I will taste those fruits on my return."  
\par \tab She struggled but the result was a foregone conclusion. I  tightened the gag strap and left her alone in the dim motel room.  
\par \tab I didn't go far, just out to the car to use my mobile phone.  First, I called my accountant who I hoped could help with the problem  of Caroline's mother. We talked hypothetically about a couple of ideas  I'd had and he confirmed what I needed to know. Now I knew that my  plan stood a chance, I called around and talked to a number of other  friends to arrange meetings. Finally I called a fine Deli I knew and  ordered the makings for dinner. It was then I made the mistake.  
\par \tab I'd been eating a bar of the chocolate while I made the calls  and finished up quite thirsty. As it was too early to arrive back at  the room, I decided to go in search of the Coke machine that motels  always have. The first machine I found was broken so I went further  afield. . . 
\par \tab As I walked back towards my block with my 3 cans of coke and  some ice, a movement caught my eye. She was young, very young --  sixteen, maybe seventeen at most, dressed in the brown uniform of a  maid. In her arms she carried a huge pile of towels almost as tall as  she was, in her hand was a key and she was heading for my room. She  ignored my shouts and as she got closer to my door I realized I had no  option. Bursting into a sprint I closed on her. I was lucky --  fumbling with the towels, she dropped the key. But for that, she would  have been in the room long before I reached her. As it was, I made it  just as she opened the door. 
\par \tab Perhaps I should have been an actor -- despite the danger, I  stayed in character. "Mademoiselle, what are you doing?" I demanded,  pointing to the 'do not disturb' sign I'd hung on the door. I was  acutely aware that Maggie was just feet away and could probably be  heard easily with the door open. 
\par \tab The girl looked at the sign, and for the first time I noticed  her olive skin and those dark brown eyes. "Perdon," she said. "No  hablo ingles!" 
\par \tab A moan emerged through the open doorway and the little Spanish  girl moved forward curiously. Quickly and as gently as I could, I  reached forward and closed the door. I could still hear faint sounds  from inside, but the gag was good enough to prevent Maggie from  drawing too much attention. I knew she could probably hear us clearly  and I knew she could speak Spanish so in the worse accent I could  manage I asked, "Habla usted frances?" 
\par \tab "Oui," she said with a smile. Immediately there was a bond  between us. We were both foreigners now. 
\par \tab "Tres bien!" I smiled. "Mademoiselle. Je suis fatigue. Je ne  voudrais pas ma chambre a ete faite." I tapped the 'do not disturb'  sign for good measure. 
\par \tab She blushed. "Excusez-moi Monsieur." Then she hurried away.  
\par \tab Relieved, I opened the door. A Spanish girl who spoke French  but no English? I wished I'd had the time to know more. Of course, a  real desperado would probably have pushed her inside and tied her up  as well. Still, I'd dealt with it in a way consistent with my  character, and I was sure Maggie was none the wiser. 
\par \tab Putting down the supplies I removed the gag. "You lie!" I  accused. "The number was no good!" 
\par \tab "Please no. I told you the truth." 
\par \tab "The card, it has gone." 
\par \tab "The machine ate my card?" Her voice was a strange mixture of  panic and relief. 
\par \tab "Oui! I have lost one day. I have nothing! Comprendez- vous?"  
\par \tab "Yes, but what can I do?" 
\par \tab I waited a while as if he was weighing up his options. Then I  reached over and pushed the gag firmly into her mouth. Fumbling for  the phone, I made a number of calls to my house and talked to the  answering machine. For Maggie's benefit, I made out that I was talking  to someone at the other end. The first ten calls were entirely in  French and after the first Maggie gave up trying to alert the person  at the other end of the phone and waited patiently. Then I sprang the  eleventh on her. 
\par \tab "Bonjour, John. Comment ca va? Bien. Listen I have something  special. Non, a woman. Oui la prostituee. . .how you say, a hooker?"  
\par \tab Maggie raised an muffled objection but I ignored her.  
\par \tab "The bitch ripped me off. . .stole my money. . .oui. . .non I  caught her. She is my guest. . .oui. I need to get my money back  before I go 'ome to Quebec. . .exactement! I think the same. . .oui. .  .anything you like for two hundred dollars. Oui? Tres bien! A tout a  l'heure. . .oui! Au revoire." 
\par \tab Maggie moaned and struggled as I made the next four calls in  English. Each was approximately the same. I claimed she was a hooker  that had stolen money from me and offered to sell her ass for two  hundred bucks in order to make my money back. Each call varied a  little and I gradually filled in the details, assuring one party that  she would be blindfolded or telling another she was an accomplished  liar. The setup was obvious -- sometime later tonight Maggie was going  to be gang-banged by fifteen guys at two hundred dollars a head. She  would be bound and blindfolded, gagged for much of the time but even  when she could speak she would be unable to persuade them to stop.  
\par \tab I noisily flicked through the pages of a book. "Fifteen men a  night? That is three thousand. In a week. . ." Maggie moaned, in a  week she would have fucked over a hundred guys. 
\par \tab "Do not worry Mademoiselle, we will 'ave the money soon, non?"  
\par \tab Her nipples were hard, her pussy damp. Maggie could only  orgasm with a man when forced and soon fifteen guys were going to have  their way with her. She'd be fucked, sucked, groped and I'd made it  clear that she could be used in anyway those men wanted. I watched the  crotch rope as it rubbed against her clit. This gag allowed a little  mouth breathing so she got a little closer before she exhausted  herself. I made an excuse about needing to go to buy condoms so that  my friends wouldn't catch something from her slut cunt. I offered to  get her a drink before I left and she nodded. 
\par \tab I expected her to beg to be released when I ungagged her. I  thought she'd threaten and whine. But instead she surprised me.  
\par \tab "For God's sake," she moaned. "Fuck me, Cody!" 
\par \tab "Mademoiselle, I am--" 
\par \tab "Cut the French crap, Cody, and just fuck me, okay? Do what  you like, whip me, degrade me but for God sake let me cum!"  
\par \tab I paused while I thought what to do next. My original plan  still had about ten more minutes left to run. 
\par \tab "Cody, please. . .fuck my pussy, you bastard. If you want to,  then use me like a whore, just be quick. . ." 
\par \tab In the end I gagged her just to end the obscenities. Then,  still in character, I mounted her. I told her she would be my whore,  that the fifteen guys would use all of her holes, would fuck her  beyond exhaustion, would cum all over her body. I told her she would  be powerless, bound and gagged, unable to stop them as they took what  they wanted, unable to stop them from degrading her and making her  lower than the cheapest whore. Then I told her that she'd like it, or  at least she'd pretend to because that way they would stop beating her  and that would mean she could get some sleep. 
\par \tab Before the next fifteen guys arrived. . . 
\par \tab All through this she struggled and screamed and fought and  when I finally cut the crotch rope and entered her she was more than  ready. The hogtie was a masterpiece, giving her no way to stop my  penetration, making her more powerless, less guilty. 
\par \tab I still believe she orgasmed fifteen times, once for each  imaginary rapist, for each imaginary violation. Even gagged she made  more noise than I would have liked and I only hoped the little Spanish  girl wasn't in the next room. Finally spent, I collapsed on her and  there we stayed 'till I we recovered our strength. Then I removed her  gag and blindfold. 
\par \tab She blinked and smiled. "Hi, Cody." 
\par \tab "Okay. When did you know?" 
\par \tab "Know what?" 
\par \tab "That it was me?" 
\par \tab "I've always known," she said, a little bemused. 
\par \tab "But I wore sweats and--" 
\par \tab She smiled. "It was very good, Cody. Wonderful, in fact. You  were so convincing I almost thought it was real on a couple of  occasions. In fact, if you hadn't worn the cologne I gave you last  Christmas, I could have panicked and really thought it was real. Very  subtle clue by the way -- a masterstroke!" 
\par \tab I was suddenly very glad that I hadn't said the aftershave was  cheap and nasty. 
\par \tab She continued, "Coming early was good, too. In fact you almost  caught me out. If you hadn't done that key fumbling thing outside the  door, you'd have caught me in the living room. As it was, I didn't  really get chance to tie my ankles properly." 
\par \tab "Whoa, wait a minute. You mean you only tied yourself up when  I arrived?" 
\par \tab "Of course. What kind of idiot do you take me for? You don't  really think I'd be stupid enough to tie myself up and not be able to  get loose." 
\par \tab "But the gloves?" 
\par \tab "Nice touch, I thought. Well, you kept saying they were cheap  and nasty and I agree. I was planning to get better ones so I could  afford to sacrifice these." 
\par \tab "So this whole thing was a setup?" I demanded. "You weren't  really tied up at all?" 
\par \tab The silly cunt grinned at me. "Nope. I just woke up with an  itch this morning and I knew you were too busy to come if I asked, so- -" 
\par \tab "You incredible bitch!" 
\par \tab "The one and only." 
\par \tab I stared at her. Then it was my turn to grin. "Okay. So I'm a  sucker and I bought it. Now you'll have to do something for me."  
\par \tab "No, I don't," she pouted. "You got off on it, too, big time.  I never realized what a power freak you are. If I didn't lean in the  other direction I might even fight this Elizabeth chick for you!"  
\par \tab "Flattery will get you nowhere," I said. "And you do owe me -  *big time.*" 
\par \tab She rolled her eyes. "Fine. So what do you want?" 
\par \tab "You, to be my slave for one evening of my choosing. No  limits, no veto, nothing. You do what I say, fuck what I say and the  only acceptable answer is "yes, master." Understand?" 
\par \tab She pouted again. "Why should I agree to this?" 
\par \tab "Two reasons," I said. "One, you'll get off on it big time.  And two, you say no and I push this gag back into your lying little  mouth and leave you here for the maid to find." 
\par \tab She thought for a while. "Okay. But only for *one* evening."  
\par \tab "Agreed," I said and started to free her. Already my mind was  working on the plans to fulfill my deepest fantasy; to have both my  slaves helpless and available at the same time. 
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caroline