Love Bracelets and Anklets

 

We had been best friends at first, inseparable friends, going out for drinks after work, going out for nights out. Always shopping together for clothes and gossiping. We liked to flirt with the men in the office together, and tease some of them too. But we were young and pretty, and so were most of the men. We knew we were there as eye  candy office assistants and receptions for the clients. So we always dressed the part. We loved fashions and sexy business wear for the office. But then he had arrived and we so quickly became rivals. He was so manly and carried himself so confidently, not like any of the other men, and he made me feel so warm between my thighs just looking at him. I knew Emily felt the same way as I did.

And he never flirted with us, just rather bluntly, even curtly,  instructed us to bring this file or that file, or coffee. And then when we did fetch and carry, he would keep us waiting standing there holding the files or his drink, for a minute or so before taking it.

He always said ‘thank you’, but it always felt like punctuation rather than politeness. And it was also the way he said ‘thank you’ you got the distinct impression , like it was beneath him to thank us, for anything   

 In that strange accent of his, his English was perfect, but with that couldn’t quite place it European accent. I had asked him once, where he was from and  he had just brushed my question aside.

But Emily and I simpered for him, quite hotly, rushing to be the one who did his fetching and carrying.

And we both started dressing up for him too. Emily bought herself a rather tight leather mini skirt, and seemed to be attracting more of his attention. So I bought myself an even tighter shorter mini skirt in high gloss, and a new very close fitting blouse. She retorted with an even tinier mini skirt until I upped the anti with Adele looking at a rather sexy, but also rather slutty looking patent leather and latex mix mini skirt, very shiny and tight, I had seen Emily, looking at it in a magazine, trying to decide if maybe it wasn’t a little too much for the office  and had quickly jumped in and ordered online. Nonetheless she also bought another similar skirt but I enjoyed my petty feminine triumph for the day at least. Then it was the blouses, snugger and tighter, with another daring  button undone, revealing a hint way too expensive lacy underwear. I thought I had won with my final blouse , black chiffon silk which was so sheer as to be rude but was pleated with very tiny, oh so difficult to iron pleats that gave the viewer tantalising glimpses of what was underneath, rather than an eyeful, somewhat like walking past a slatted fence. But she won this one with a superbly tailored, incredibly glossy but sheer at certain angles blouse. I was furious. The next battle ground was shoes and stockings, I think we came out level on that score. And always make up, nails and perfume , always expensive scents. We Emily and I were driving the other men, who we know considered to be just boys pretending to be men, compared to him, in the office wild but we only had eyes for him.

Needless to say Emily and I weren’t going out for friendly drinks anymore, but we did still go out with all the others from the office, hoping he might one day decide to come along but he never did. Then one evening as I was walking home past a very expensive bar restaurant, I saw him through the window, with a fabulous looking women in fabulous looking silk backless slip party dress. It was so gossamer and almost not there, I could tell just by looking at her she had no panties on under the dress or was wearing a thong. He had looked up and saw me, most likely agape through the window. Then he had smiled and looked away cupping his companions bottom with his large hands. I had fled with embarrassment.

The next day he called me to bring him coffee, and after keeping me waiting for the usual minute or so he looked up from his paperwork and said

“Were you having a nice evening last night Adele?” He asked, in that strange lilt, whenever he said my name or Emily’s it always sounded like he was  questioning our ownership of our names, like he was considering whether w should have different names.

Also although his English was perfect his question about my evening made it sound like he wasn’t interested in my answer, or at least not much interested.

“Oh yes Sir, thank you.” I replied, he was very senior to me, and although everyone in the office was very casual, he was very formal, or least he was with myself, Emily and the other female office assistants.

My heart was in my mouth hoping desperately that he was going to ask me out.

“Did you have an enjoyable evening Sir ?” I ventured hopefully.

“Oh I always make sure I do.” He said rather flatly

Then he reached out and patted my bottom.

“You may go now Adele, back to your desk.” He told me

I was shocked and excited. No-one in the office, no-one in any work environment would think that was in any way appropriate, but I was so pleased and flattered, I wanted to lean into his hand, but hurried back to my desk, breathlessly. Emily gave me a curious look as I sat down, I smiled in elation, blissful with petty feminine triumph.

That night in bed, my hands, my fingers had strayed between my legs and I had wanted to masturbate, I

hadn’t done so or even really thought about it much since college. But somehow although all I could think about was him and his large hand patting my bottom I couldn’t start, somehow I though he wouldn’t approve. Or he might find out and forbid it, which made the idea even more arousing. I had rolled around in bed for quite some time, and had eventually lifted my fingers to my mouth smelling and tasting my arousal, licking them clean but still did not somehow dare go any further.

The next day I was furious, Emily had brought him some files and he had patted her bottom too. I hope no-one else heard my cry of impotent jealous  fury from the locked toilet cubicle, or saw me clenching my little fists weakly. And then that night even though my fingers had strayed again, I was too upset to think about anything but  him patting Emily’s bottom or mine, in fact all I could think about was him, all the time.     

That night  the strange dreams started, and they were very disconcerting.

I had woken in the middle of the night and my pretty but rather modest nightdress, was replaced with a much smaller and filmier nightdress , also I had no panties on. I was very grateful I kept myself fully waxed, as was the fashion for some girls these days, as at least I was smooth and pretty under my very short nightdress or rather negligee.  But the scariest thing was the bracelets. Plain but still rather pretty and somehow feminine looking in their functionality, two matching bands of steel fastened, one for each wrist and locked around each wrist. Joined by a single link so relatively  inflexible and impossible for me to move my wrists much in,  or to attempt to remove them. I had struggled in breathless rising panic, as I realized how helpless I was, but feebly too pathetically, as if I should be locked in such things, in tears of frustration, then eventually I must have given up and drifted back to sleep again. Because the next thing I knew it was the morning. But the dream had felt so very real, so visceral, and my wrists also felt sore were the phantom rings of steel had been in my dreams.

In a disturbing way the dream had also felt somewhat arousing. On my way home I spotted a new lingerie shop, funny how I had not noticed the boutique shop before. In the window was a nightie just like the one I was wearing in my dream and I felt compelled to go and look at it, and as soon as I felt the slippery smooth, rather diaphanous fabric I had shuddered with excitement and had to buy the tiny garment, it was quite lovely. I had wanted panties to go with the slip of course. The  very friendly, rather servile girl in the shop had a similar accent to the man and had guided me in my purchase. She had deftly avoided any questions about where she was from, however,

The girl did keep saying how pretty  the nightie and she was sure  that He, the man in my life would be very pleased to see me wearing it. Rather curious I thought when these days women bought pretty things for their own pleasure, not for the male gaze, didn’t they?. I did not mention that I was single but I got the distinct impression she knew already this, despite what she said.

She did wrinkle her nose slightly when I insisted on the matching panties, which I thought was rather

odd because it would add to her sales commission. Also she didn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry to let me leave.

“The fabric does feel lovely doesn’t it.”

“I suppose so yes.”

“Lovely and feminine, perfect for you.” She said, rather directly I though but I was flattered.

I bought another two  slips and asked for the matching panties. Maybe she was a good salesgirl after all, or was I persuading myself

“Girls like us aren’t allowed to wear panties.” She said

“What ?, what did you say .” I said not sure if heard her correctly.

“Oh sorry I meant theses baby-doll slips,  negligees  aren’t usually meant to come with panties.” She said, then added quickly “Sorry my English grammar is a little spotty.”

In actual fact her grammar was perfect with just the trace of a European accent, just like him in the office. I did notice however that her accent didn’t sound so condescending,  his was often jarring or dismissive, hers was very soft and inviting, anxious to please.

I didn’t question her any further but she did give me a little hug as I finally got ready to leave and a peck on my cheek. I got the distinct impression she would have kissed me on the lips if she had been given the chance. They were so very pleasantly direct these foreigners, even if he was so blunt. I also couldn’t help wondering if she was wearing panties under her rather pretty and short skirt, but didn’t dare ask.

That night when I put on the lovely slip I had shuddered in excitement, the fabric was just so sensuous to the touch, quite maddeningly so  in fact, but it looked so pretty in the mirror. I must confess I had thought about touching myself again, but still didn’t dare to somehow.

Getting dressed for bed I had made sure to wear the panties but had again woken up, wearing the pretty

slip nightdress but no panties, and in the bracelets again. And also tonight I had the very foreboding feeling of being under observation somehow. Again though after struggling feebly with the cuffs and not daring to get out of bed I somehow drifted off back to sleep and woke in the morning. The cuffs were of course gone, but I was still in my slip, but the panties were crumpled up and tossed on the floor. Had I forgotten to put them on ? I cautiously sniffed at the fabric and the soft silk did smell slightly warm & worn. I had rushed my coffee and morning cigarette, and inadvertently arrived at work half an hour early.

He had been there already just about to get into the lift, holding the door for me letting me precede him in, not in a gentlemanly manner though, almost as if I should be steered or guided by him.

In the lift he never said anything even though we were alone together, he just watched me silently then allowed me to proceed him into the office. Then once he was in his office he had called out for coffee. Most of us fetched our own drinks but he liked myself or Emily to bring his to him.

Again he never said much else to me except to tell me I could go now. I felt so flustered. But then I also felt very pleased when I saw Emily arriving at the office and the look on her face when she saw me coming out of his office, was priceless. It was still too early to start work so we had stepped out together to smoke on the office balcony. Quite furiously puffing away. Trying to keep our conversation friendly even though it was always rather stifled and awkward these days. He came outside too having his own executive veranda, on the floor above ours. He obviously saw us, and was close enough to have a conversation with us but he didn’t say anything, just looked at us with that unreadable expression. And when we went back inside he called Emily to fetch him another coffee, I was very nearly in tears.

The next night was much, much  worse, I sleep woke to find my ankles were in similar bracelets, anklets, too. So even I had wanted to get out of bed I wouldn’t have been able to without falling over in helpless mess. My wrists and ankles also felt sore. And again the panties I was sure I had worn were on the floor.

My negligee slip, also felt and smelt rather fusty, my body apparently had been hot and bothered in my dream, I was glad I had a couple of spares to wear. And annoyingly the girl in the shop had said hand wash only, preferably with soap flakes and using your fingertips, so I had to find some old fashioned laundry soapflakes and a little bowl to wash the garment in.   I chose a pastel pink bowl, thinking it was a feminine colour, though this sort of menial work would suit a stone basin better.

Then that night I woke in the bracelets, and anklets but the bracelets  now held my hands behind my back, with a matching ring around my waist holding the bracelets in place, and I was face down on the bed. As I struggled to roll myself over, no mean feat in these restraints,  I heard a voice in  my head think say in a very feminine voice, ‘no touching yourself, pretty little thing’, as if I could now in these bracelets, and with the anklets I couldn’t even think about trying to go to the loo.  The voice  sounded like the girl in the lingerie store, slightly mocking or was it just a plain statement of fact, that sounded so final and so mocking. I suspected the latter but really wasn’t sure. Again I woke up in the morning completely unbound but a fusty mess, my panties on the floor, and my wrists and ankles sore from where the bracelets had been in my dream.  

And then the next night I woke with an iron belt intimately snug between my legs locking to the ring around my waist, a very simple but effective and pretty chastity device. With my wrists attached to the rear of the belt.  I had sobbed in helpless fright for what felt like all night until I dropped off and woke again in the morning. The next night I found myself not on the bed but lying on my pillow on the floor, And this was every night now, and the only way I could get comfortable was lie sideways on the bed, curled up. There was no way of getting the sheet back around me either. Or if I sometimes fell from the bed, there was no way to climb back up so I just knelt on the pillow, retrieved with my mouth, , facing the wall. I don’t know why it felt right to kneel facing the wall but it did, as I struggled futilely in the bracelets and anklets, crying softly until I found myself awake in the morning again.  Thankfully always unbound and in bed, but always with my panties removed.

And then came that night when the dream wasn’t a dream any longer. I had woken up face down on the bed in the bracelets, anklets and the iron belt  again , but unusually still wearing my panties, but not for long. There was a man in my room and it was him, and another man too.

I had sobbed in fright, somehow I knew for certain this wasn’t a dream. With one hand pressing me down onto the bed, very easily. With the other  he  deftly unlocked  the iron belt and peeled my panties off then stuffed them into my mouth to silence me.

“This should keep pretty Adele quiet.” He said to the other man, who laughed.

I whimpered into the gag.

“Is she vital?” One of the other men asked.

The man who had gagged me put his big hand between my legs, I would have leaped in fright if his other hand hadn’t been so easily holding me down.

“Did anyone doubt pretty Adele or Emily would be hot and wet.” He laughed wiping his hand on my slip, then locked the iron belt between my legs again.

He slapped my bottom firmly when he was done, causing me to squeal, heavily muffled by the panties in my mouth.

The other man chuckled rather lewdly, as  I moaned in misery into the gag.

He lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder, very easily indeed, then as he carried me from the bedroom, I had passed out.

That was the last I seen of him till now. Now that I was a slavegirl serving often nude or in tiny slip dress just like my negligee, except much more fantastically glossy slippery and diaphanous. And with no panties, unless a Master wanted me to wear such a silly negligible strip of fabric so he could remove them or order me to remove them so he could gag me with them for punishment or sex, or both.

A branded slavegirl, marked with the hot iron and sold at auction to a tavern where my sexual use came complementary with the price of a drink. Not a fantastic business model I sometimes thought, but slavegirls, although ‘too beautiful to be free’ were cheap and plentiful, in the markets, and when we weren’t on our knees for the Masters we were on our hands & knees performing housework, and other suitably servile female tasks, around the tavern.

I was on all fours with emily at his feet. We had been bought by the tavern as a pair due to our matching

blonde hair, blow job blonde they called it. And also when the buyers had seen how jealous and competitive we were towards each other, and how much that would please his patrons. For that reason our owner had also swapped our names so I was now emily and she adele. He could of course name us anything he pleased, or leave us nameless. On all fours with adele, kissing Masters whip fearfully, begging to not be beaten, begging to  please him.

It was a popular pastime of the Masters, making us beg together to be chosen, often kissing the whip, or kissing the Masters cock and balls together, eyes and lips meeting around his swollen throbbing glans. Or watching us lick or finger each other to near orgasm, before selecting one of us for fellatio, the other to fetch him another drink. Choosing one or the other to take to the alcoves, small reception rooms, for a more private rape. Even though you could still hear our moans and sobs, especially loud for anal,  as they spread our thighs and buttocks, opened us, with their throbbing erections. Through the leather curtains that sealed off the room.  And the men were rather big here and vital, quite insatiable until they were fully satisfied and dismissed us, or if was night time, pushing us down to lick them clean, as they drifted off to sleep.

His face was just as impassive as it always was in the office, but now satisfied seeing us firmly in our place, for his pleasure. He left us begging and pleading covering the whip with fervent kisses  until we were quite helpless with arousal, and fear. In no particular order he could use either pleasure or punishment. Then he casually placed the whip on the side of his chair. We both sobbed choking with relief, the slave whip is horrible on your rear, or anywhere really, but usually across your bottom and your upper thighs. We were both still desperately fervently pleading to be chosen for his pleasure. Squidging and squelching with hot helpless need, my thighs were slick, and so were adele’s.

He reached down and patted my bottom and then adele’s. It was more of a slap than a pat.

“Run along now pretty slaves, it was most enjoyable to catch up.”

“Yes Master, thank You Master.” We sobbed humiliated and dismissed, hurrying away. As he clicked his fingers for another girl to come and serve him.

Both adele and I weak with powerless jealous fury, but always cringing obsequiously, in male presence,   as he took another slave to the alcoves, while we hurried back to the housework, then later emerged from the alcove leaving the girl well used and still in the love  chains. Paying for his drink and leaving without even glancing down at us. Or at least as far as we could tell, because we were not allowed to look up above the Masters beltline unless we were told too, or were performing fellatio, the Masters  liked to see our eyes looking up at them submissively then.

Leaving without another word for us. And I knew we would most likely never see him again.

He had raped and dominated us, even more totally without raping us.

It must be so satisfying to be the Master here.

“Thank You Master.” I whispered tearfully and so did adele.

Serving the Masters drinks in the hot afternoon.

 

On pads of my feet, nearly on tiptoes so as to enter the hall gracefully & quietly, where the Masters were seated enjoying the cooling breeze from the coast. Vulnerable and anxious to be superbly pleasing as a slavegirl should always be, in the presence of her Masters. Always announced by the tiny tinkling sounds of the bells on my nipple chain and on my clitoris piercing, like a belled animal. But also I felt rather than heard the squelching between my wet thighs and the thick sensation & hot aroma of my slave heat.

The Masters though paid me no heed, as holding the heavy tray I curtsied and knelt down gracefully at the small serving table situated at the feet of their chairs. Where I could serve them chilled beer, and roasted meat snacks. On the tray also were  bowls of warm scented water, so they could clean their fingers, if they so wished. The loaded tray had been heavy, but that was no concern of theirs. In another part of the hall there were 2 slavegirls, nude on all fours, cleaning the tiled floor. Or rather on their knees only. Their hands were in slave cuffs behind them, held in the small of their backs by a waist chain. Known as love cuffs, often used for fellatio, they are equally suited to menial chores. The links were heart shaped and pretty, delicate even, but far stronger that any slavegirl could even think about breaking. They were naked except for the tiny glossy veils that covered their pretty mouths. Fervently polishing the floor with sex soiled slave panties in their lips And I noticed with satisfaction that my blonde rival was one of the girls, the other was also an imported slave, a fantastic redhead. I was glad to see both of them performing their chores so menially, and although it was so often myself in this position I was glad it was they and not me on this rather hot stuffy day. Both girls were swaying & swinging their bottoms prettily in unison as they worked, so as to be a pleasing site to their Masters. Their tiny clitoris bells just about visible and ringing out sweetly together.

They would be sexually frightened and just as anxious to be pleasing. As I was constantly. They were naked but today I was permitted to wear a pink serving apron. It was tiny and completely diaphanous, lustrous and glossy where it clung to my curves. I was permitted no other clothing or underwear except for my own tiny glossy mouth veil also in pink. The Masters liked to see us at our chores nude, exposed  and vulnerable. And if we were permitted a tiny scrap of filmy clothing, which we clung to so gratefully, it was only to enjoy snapping their fingers and telling us to strip, whenever it amused them. Of course we never dared to disobey, but one of the pleasures of owning imported girls is watching that shocked fearful disbelief on our faces as we nonetheless hurried to obey. And sometimes that tiny helpless gesture of futile rage as we clenched our weak fists then hurriedly unclenched them. All the slaves sometimes did this in tiny futile pique.

Similarly with slave ‘panties’ or nether shields. Slavegirls were not previously permitted this type of garment. Until to became rather in fashion, mainly fropm the slavers, and highly  pleasing to peel them forcefully from us and stuff them into our mouths gagging us for sex. The Men here are all rather well endowed and enjoy sex, and also enjoy our tight little bottoms as we squeal and moan in humiliated misery. And our muffled cries make this more enjoyable, especially for anal. The native girls find that strange but they also are distressed by anal. Especially when they are gagged by their own soaked panties, like earth girls for sex.

Being gagged like this reminds us of our capture, and also when we once thought we were free and foolishly in any way equal to Men. As during capture we are so often gagged with our panties, they being quite to hand and a good way to silence, humiliate & put us immediately in our place, ready to be bound hand and foot, kidnapped. Our Master once He had found out that I and the other blonde had been rivals on Earth, enjoyed gagging us with each other panties and often had us perform joint fellatio and to dance together arousing each other with our tongues, until they were ready for fellatio or for sex. We were not allowed to climax from each others tongues, of course that pleasure was for them.

I Knelt down gracefully at the table and lifting the heavy tankard of beer, rolled it in my cleavage and kissed the rim before lowering my already bowed head further and proffering it to the first Master.

“Please Master, this slave bring You, Your beer on this warm day and hopes You will find it and her service pleasing and refreshing. And that she may please You with her mouth or further service as You enjoy Your drink, thank You Master.” I whispered.

We were always to be unobtrusive and effacing in their presence. Intimidated, physically, intellectually  and sexually, desperately  anxious to please, to be found pleasing.

At the slightest gesture, imagined or not of His displeasure, or any male displeasure, I would be trembling and quaking, my naked flanks feeling so very exposed. He could slap my bottom or pull me across His lap to spank my creamy bottom & thighs. And although that highly sexually arousing at first, His hands are always very big and firm on your soft behind. Arousing until that first slap or very firm spank. Or so much worse He might ask you or tell you that perhaps you should be punished with the whip. Casually sending you to fetch the whip, often on all fours holding the whip crossways in your mouth as you return. Just the mention of that fearsome well worn crop, causing you to blanche of all colour and nearly wet yourself with utter fright. You feel suddenly so hot and yet so cold between your nude thighs. Totally stricken with fright, and even your rivals so competitively jealous as they always are, are frightened and appalled by your helplessness.

Yet He threatens and delivers such punishments so imperiously but casually whenever He is displeased or so pleases. Or just has you kneel on all fours kissing and sobbing the whip, to put you instantly in your place, at or rather beneath His feet. After the mere hint or imagined hint of the whip, you are so frightened and obsequiously  compliant, as you serve, excruciatingly aware every gesture or inflection in His voice imbued with His total dominance.

As it always should be. After the auction day, my brand still burning and excruciatingly painful as it healed. I had knelt in the slave quarters both I and the other blonde, as a native girl instructed us in applying our cosmetics

“More lip gloss,” said our instructor.

“More eye shadow and blusher.”

“Please miss” We had protested already feeling like whores.

Imported girls and especially blondes must always refer to native girls as miss, even if they are slaves like ourselves. 

Surely you would prefer for your Master to see you in terms of His desire and not in terms of discipline,” She told us.

In fact she would relish seeing us or any of her rivals in trouble, as would we all. But she had been tasked with attending to our cosmetics and would be punished just as severely for any failings as we would be. I hadn’t quite noticed the utter fright in Her tone back then, but I knew it oh so well now.

“I am so frightened,” I had whispered watching myself in the mirror, trembling. “I am afraid to be presented before my Master.”

“An appropriate and  suitable fear for a slavegirl,” She had said, almost sympathetically. “It is up to you to see that He finds you pleasing.”

“Yes miss, thank you miss.” I had whispered, hearing my companion echo my words equally frightened as I was.

“And not to be found displeasing, the whip is a very good incentive for slavegirls.”

“Yes miss, thank you miss.”  We had chorused together

I was so glad that my rival from the office was here kneeling in the small stone room where the kennels where,  sharing my fate, would be tasting the whip, she deserved it so. She was such a tease and bimbo in the office.

The office had, had an old fashioned power dynamic. Although, off course  we dressed to please ourselves not for the men, we secretaries and office assistants were eye candy and subtly expected to dress the part. I had enjoyed my little mini skirts especially the leather skirts and tight glossy blouses. Enjoyed walking into a room and seeing without seeing all the eyes on me from all the men. Especially teasing the male office juniors, but also the glances and sometimes rather frank looks from the more superior men in the office. The senior ladies looked at us with disdain, but also jealousy I suspect. How I would enjoy seeing them here if they too were considered ‘too beautiful to be free’ captured and taken in the night, silenced with their own fusty panties stuffed into their mouths. But she and I had always tried to outdo each other, but she was kneeling beside me too.

In fact we were a matching pair in height, curves and hair colour, and had been curated as such. Blondes with that comely golden Saxon blonde  look, we would go for a respectable price in the markets, very light golden blonde but not as white haired as the native more Scandinavian looking blonde girls here. Collected curated and captured As had all the girls in the secretary and assistant pool. And the disdainful senior ladies too, bound for the auction block. Although in my terror I had not realised this as during my capture and transport I had been looking down or facing the wall as instructed, obediently. Helplessly frightened and hoping that this was all just a curiously & embarrassingly slightly arousing nightmare. Or  that my stern captors would somehow keep all the others but release me. And then after arriving on planet, we  tied, or buckled in tight straps gagged and hooded for transport, bound for different towns, markets and auctions. Not so much for the casual bondage slave girls were subject too. But blindfolded or hooded to keep us docile and helpless during transport.

We were often kept in chains or straps and often gagged or hooded, as the Masters saw fit to enjoy us. And at night we were often cuffed in our kennels. Sometimes we wore the iron belt, much like a medieval chastity belt. A plain flat U shaped ring that passed between our thighs and locked to a ring around our waists. This wasn’t to enforce exclusiveness however, just to remind us that even our intimacies were owned and controlled by our Masters. Your wrists would be secured behind your back to on the waist ring. To stop you touching yourselves in the night, the Masters might laugh, knowing that we would never dare masturbate or climax without permission, but being locked & having our wrists secured like this made us feel so hot, simmering they called it.    

In fact what was not generally known and certainly not to me, but the slavers locally  accomplices on Earth. Who thought after the transport was done, that they would be well rewarded financially and live the life of the  Masters after stepping through the quantum transporters, they were pushing the terrified slaves through. But they would also be transformed into slave girls. The transporters work in one direction only. Only native Men, can return as Men, and women can only ever go one way. The male accomplices would have a brief few seconds to realize what had happened as they found themselves transformed into totally blonde bimbos, & quite air headed so. The Masters have no sympathy for them, seeing them as dupes and weaklings for ever allowing earth women such as ourselves to ever believe we were equal to Men and deserving of anything other than menial domesticated, sexual slavery, and of course the whip. Not that, their fate would have been of any comfort, or satisfaction to us if we had known. They were just like us blonde slavegirls heading for the auction block.  

How glad I had been to know that my rival was here & that she would be whipped, if she was anything less than totally & perfectly pleasing. I was so smug & glad that is until I realised that her fate would be mine.

And now when I or she entered a room the men would be looking at me openly and as lustfully as they pleased. I would be wiggling my bottom, not in fashionable sexy leather miniskirt, to tease. But wiggling my bottom prettily and anxious to please my Masters. Watching me with open desire, If they so pleased to, that is if they bothered to notice us at all. As we served them frightened and abjectly submissive, not daring in any way to interrupt or disturb them. But under their strict male dominance, hot and wet, aching to please them.

Terrified of the whip and that moment of hot sex & fear. The moment that seemed to stretch on forever and consume you completely with fright. Being told to fetch  the whip, or kneeling sobbing covering that stern implacable implement of pain and discipline in kisses. Sobbing and begging to be forgiven for your minor unwitting disobedience or trivial infraction,  not to be beaten, for His leniency. Not to spend the rest of the week with your inflamed puffy rump stinging and smarting with pain as the subcutaneous welts and bruises gradually subsided.

I truth we were not beaten often, maybe around once a month, sometimes longer sometimes less. As after your first whipping you would do absolutely anything not to be punished again. But the masters were very strict with us and you could be punished for the tiniest thing if they so pleased. And often if they passed you while you were on busy scrubbing the floor nude all fours they might, swat your behind once or twice, and tell you to hurry up, or tell you, you had missed a speck of dust.

“Yes Master, thank you Master.” You would sob in pain and fright. He might press the tab of the crop between your wet thighs and then have you kiss and lick it clean, as you thanked him.      

Yet for Him this and other punishments were nothing, an interlude at most, unimportant. You would be punished if He chose to punish you. Or not as He saw fit.      

But how we squirmed and squelched needily, under their strict dominance. A submissive female under uncompromising male dominance. Always trying self consciously & frightened to not be in any way intrusive. Your needs were irrelevant & unimportant, only his pleasure and satisfaction were important to you now. And even though you feared the horrible whip terribly, you were so flattered and mollified to be ‘too beautiful to be free’ not to be punished, to be too desirable not to kept under a strict and perfect, painful discipline.

As you served your Master. Or any Master, or any of His guests. Longing to be sent to His bed, or instructed to kneel inside his open knees and please Him. Looking up at Him lovingly adoringly, frightened but helplessly wet with the desire to please Him. To feel Him explode in your mouth, or between your legs, and to climax and submit  to Him totally in orgasmic surrender.  For that brief ecstatic moment when you felt yourself merge into His lustful desire. But often especially during the day it was just fellatio leaving you helplessly wet and needy, but that was of no concern to Him, we were for His pleasure not our needs no matter how hot and desperate we were.  Before you licked Him clean and He slapped your bottom dismissing you in tears back to your tiny kennel or your chores.            

I had served drinks all afternoon, rushing back and forth with fresh beer & snacks, while the Masters enjoyed their afternoon. And afterwards in the early evening one of the Men had called me to kneel intimately for Him.

Dismissing me with my mouth and face all sticky to my kennel, as He went to the pool to swim and cool down. I would be locked in the iron belt tonight, and pushed into a tiny kennel with my rival. She was hot and sticky, having also been taken by 3 of the Men. She was gagged with Her panties, and the kennel attendant also decided to gag me, We were not allowed to chatter much in the kennels anyways, maybe the briefest of whispers, but not tonight not that we ever had much to say to each other anyway, nor much to any of the other girls who were our fierce rivals. I was gagged with another pair of quite sticky silk panties, before He closing the leather curtain over the cage and leaving us in the hot sticky total darkness.

I squelched and squirmed helplessly, wishing I had been chosen, furious with her, that she had been so well used and I had not. But also glad that the Masters were so strict and uncompromising with us.

Thank You Master.  

Kissing the whip together, two blondes for His enjoyment

 

We were on all fours at His feet, fervently kissing His whip together. Choking with fright sobbing and whimpering to not be punished by Him. Our glossy lips pressing to the flexible but firm tab, iin helpless desperation. Tasting and smelling the well worn leather tab of the riding crop shaped ‘pleasure whip’. The stale sweaty taste of fear and sex. The Masters liked to press the tab and between our thighs, moisten it with our slave heat, to remind us even as we might be being regarded at that moment for His pleasure or rape, we still always under His perfect and obdurate discipline. The discipline of owned slave girls under strict male domination.

Our eyes met over the crop as we sobbed. Slave girls are not permitted to look up at Master, above His belt without His express instruction or permission, even whilst performing fellatio some Master preferred us to keep our eyes submissively lowered.  Rather than meeting His gave submissively, and showing Him how much you wanted to please Him with your mouth. Even amongst ourselves, mere slaves, possessions we kept our eyes mostly lowered, in hot shameful desire. But this afternoon He had instructed us to kiss the whip together and to look at each other, as we begged and pleaded to be kept imperfect discipline, but not to be punished. Because this girl was a good girl Master, and to punish the other slave instead because she was the naughty disobedient slave, but not this girl Master, never this slave Master. On all fours sobbing in fear and desperate humiliated shame.

When you are kissing Masters whip you are numb and choking with helpless fright, you blanched and tremble at just the mere mention of the fearsome implement. It would be interesting to watch a girl serving beautifully and gracefully, proud to note that the Men were watching her curves as she humbly but prettily serves them. Suddenly reduced to a fearful slave by the mention let alone the snap of the whip. She doesn’t let her pose drop, but you can see her body grow suddenly pale and trembling Reduced to where she should always be, utterly beneath her Masters and her Masters firm hand. It would be interesting to watch,  if you didn’t also know that,  that was you always in their presence.

The other Men looked on disinterestedly, we were just slaves, blonde fucktoys, He could do with us as He pleased. Another slave was serving them drinks and begging to please them while they drank. Sometimes the Masters would enjoy fellatio as they drank, perhaps passing the used slavegirl around after she had swallowed His pleasure and thanked Him. Or perhaps having a girl each to serve them. Most households kept a few girls in the slave kennels so Master and any of His guests always had a selection to choose from. But today the Men  were not interested really and just wanted to drink cold beer. They could enjoy fucking us later. It was a hot day after all, and they had all been out hunting, most of the day, while we slaves were kept busy scrubbing and polishing the hard stone tiles on our hands and knees, Then they had enjoyed a swim at the cove, before returning to our Masters house, with dusty footwear and clothes. And dirtying the floors so that they needed dutifully scrubbing all over again. 

The Master holding the whip was one of Masters guests, naturally as part of Masters hospitality, we were free for any of His guests to enjoy. This guest had unusually allowed us to look up at His face briefly, before telling us curtly ‘eyes down.’. And I knew I had recognized Him, from an earlier life. I also had thought it unusual that we both had been put in slave panties to serve. We were told to fetch a pair each from the laundry basket, they were still sticky and sex soiled from the previous night. Usually during the day we perform our menial chores  naked except for the tiny mouth veils we always wore. Or if we were serving drinks sometimes in a glossy filmy apron or just nude. sometimes we are permitted filmy clingy very short and very brief slips to wear. Slave silk is very glossy and nearly completely diaphanous. It is also incredibly slippery and distracting, maddening to wear, but feels very nice for Master. It is like being more naked than naked in front of our Masters, but we slaves still cling to any scrap of clothing we might be permitted from time to time. Both adele and this girl were always in pale pink, it suits our blonde hair the Masters tell us. Even the native girls scornfully say it suits blonde bimbos or blow job blondes as we are often called, even though they must perform orally with perfection, on command too.   

Fellatio or at least the sucking kissing part also feels incredible through slave silk for Him. However panties or nether shields as they are called here are a relatively new fashion. And are usually only worn if one of the Masters wishes to gag us with them when He fucks, spanks or whips us. They find it amusing to see us choke on the taste of our helpless need in ecstatic surrender to them, or under punishment. And my panties were very soaked now, with fright and shamed sexual arousal, to be so thoroughly and casually dominated and humiliated by His will.

And I did recognize Him very well indeed, although He himself showed not the slightest  sign of recognizing me or my fellow slave. I remember Him from my former now distant life. When He had come into the office for the first time He was so impressively masculine. I had feigned indifference or disinterest then, but He had seemed so confident and manly I had squirmed in my chair a little. He had actually sniffed the air & smiled at me, as if amused.  Had He noticed, did He hear, or more embarrassingly smell my tiny squelch. I also remember the other blonde secretary in the office watching Him eagerly just like the slut she was.

The other blonde who was now also on her knees, fearfully kissing His whip with me. The next day I had worn my sexiest leather mini skirt and cream silk blouse, unbuttoned carefully to give a glimpse of my black push up bra. But she had also dressed up, in a very sexy black silk shirt and leather mini, with heels to die for. I had gone shopping that night for a new pair of high stiletto heeled anklet booties and a new black very glossy silk blouse. Blondes do look good in black I think. I also wore my little glossy leather jacket the next day. Of course we only dressed up to please ourselves not for a mans attention. But I think I even started to wear my best underwear when we hoped He might be in the office. After that first day though He studiously ignored both of us.  But I did remember one afternoon being called into the office to serve coffee to the director an Him, and as I bent over with the cups I had wondered what it would be like if He had caressed my bottom or even slapped it as I bent over.

“Is something the matter Adele.” The director had even asked

“No Sir, of course not Sir.” I had mumbled as I hurried away trying to cover my blushes.

“Run along then miss adele.” He had said, nobody ever called me miss adele, it was always Miss or Ms Jenkinson, or just my name. The way  He said miss adele seemed very condescending and almost as if He seemed amused by my name.

“Back to your duties, we have important business to discuss.”

“Yes Sir.” I blurted before I could stop myself, but He had already turned away and my director had given me a very curious look.     

But since then He seemed to make every effort to be in the same room as myself and Emily, the other blonde, when we were in the same room performing some task or other. But then also completely ignoring us, or at least so it seemed to both of us,  as we bristled and seethed with competitive jealousy.

Ignoring us that is, until the night when He had woken me in the darkness of my bedroom with two other very manly Men. I had been curtly instructed to get up and put on my best underwear. My dating underwear they had laughed. And to bring them drinks from my fridge.

I was a good girl and only ever sipped wine, but even so kept a few select beers in my fridge, just in case I ever had company. Also although I smoked occasionally I didn’t smoke to excess, nor did I ever exceed my quite strict diet plans, I wanted to keep myself  slim and healthy. I was also very inexperienced sexually, but never would admit that I was actually still a virgin. All the boys at college had seemed just that, boys and so had the boys in the office, until  just recently. I had never even masturbated fully it somehow just didn’t seem right. Although I had sometimes felt my wetness  down there if I was feeling excited, usually after watching a film with my favourite actors. I had even sneaked a little taste once, sucking my slightly wet fingertip, but that had felt a bit too naughty. It was smelly and not very nice to taste either.

Some friends had said I was born after my time, I should have been better suited  to the frigid 50s. When women were obedient and grateful. They had said the same about Emily too. But I wasn’t frigid, I was just shy and selective, I wasn’t waiting for a Man to sweep me off my feet. It was my life, my body & my choice, or so I had told myself until that night.

I was so frightened by Him and His companions that hadn’t dared disobey or even say anything. Until finally I had managed  to whisper, more of a plaintiff whimper in fact.  

“Please what are you going to do to me, please don’t rape me or kill me, take anything you want, please.”

In response they had casually stripped my panties from me and stuffed them into my mouth, as a gag. They seemed amused with this little game as they bound my wrists behind me in the small of my bag and continued with their drinks.

Then they had just marched me out of the door, half naked, I was still wearing my bra and very short chemise slip at this point. Down the service corridor. And past the smirking doorman. The new one who was so big and strong looking and who had always  made me feel quite uncomfortable. Especially that time when He had seen me struggling, with the door with lots of boxes from shopping. I had asked Him to help but He had just said, ‘oh I’m sure you can manage just fine.’ And turned to help someone else. I would have complained but I felt so embarrassed about His tone.  

I was taken around the back of my building, one of the Men had even slapped my bottom to hurry me

up, and I had whimpered into my gag much to the other mens amusement.  I was then bundled into the back of a van. It was very dark inside but I had just time enough, to see several other girls semi naked, bound and gagged  just as I was waiting in the  dark. I saw Emily too and even despite my terror, was glad she was there and that she would be terrified too. The hard leather seating was very uncomfortable and quite slick with our fright, but not with urine or anything worse, even at this point we instinctively knew we didn’t dare to,  but just our hot warm funk.

 

My wrist bindings were awkwardly but firmly secured behind me on some sort of hook, keeping me secure but off balance, and then the door was closed and we were in total darkness. Every so often the door was opened and more semi naked girls were pushed in and locked to the seats, then in the centre between us and then later still some were just pushed kneeling on the floor until the very small van was stuffed full of  terrified girls. I had wondered in the early days how or why our sudden disappearance were not investigated, but emily like myself was on her own or like a lot of girls estranged from her parents and the slavers were very professional and had planned their acquisitions very well. 

Finally at our destination, or rather our embarking point we had been allowed out of the tiny now very cramped van, and stripped totally naked, but kept bound and gagged, kneeling facing the wall as we were ‘processed’. I heard a crack of a whip, the first time I had heard that fearsome sound & one girl squeal in pain into her gag. Apparently she hadn’t been quick or compliant enough. After which we were all very compliant. Processing consisted of simply being examined and probed,  very intimately and rudely, then ungagged and a very large & cold injection in our bottoms. I had just enough time to gasp in shock before the anesthetic darkness swept over me.

We had woken up naked in a large stone room, a locked room with no way to open it from the inside. Not that we dared to try. We were all now facing the wall in silence as we had been instructed to. We all instinctively knew we were somewhere else now. The air smelled and tasted different here, alive almost, fresh and zingy,  completely unpolluted. And the gravity even felt different, somehow very slightly heavier or perhaps slightly lighter even. Not that this sort of thing was ever imparted or discussed with us, and curiosity is unbecoming in a slave girl. We all just knew instinctively, that this situation was inescapable and we were to be obedient and passive. And feminine too, in contrast to the very masculine Men who curtly gave us our instructions.

Much later that day, we were all inspected and  sorted simply by hair colour and led outside the stone room into the warmth of the afternoon. It was very warm and humid but the Men didn’t seem to really notice this, they were drinking cold beer anyway, as they pushed us into a series of leather curtained cages on  wagons. Bound hand and feet, and gagged with a heavy leather gag. There wasn’t much space inside, even less than in the van and we were all crammed bouncing together as the wagon jostled over what was obviously a rough stone road. We couldn’t see of course because the curtain was kept buckled closed from the outside.

The Men were speaking a very foreign language, laughing and joking as they rode along without a care in the world. This initial journey had been for a few days and were just kept bound in the wagon, not allowed to toilet or fed. But somehow although this was distressing and uncomfortable it didn’t seem to have any ill effects on us. At the next destination we were all bound with leather straps and put into horrible leather body hoods that reached down over your head and were buckled closed between and around your thighs. And then the odyssey continued as  transported somewhere else, This took another few days and we arrived at what seemed to be a medium sized town, although we only really saw the auction block and the branding room.  Where we were eventually put on an auction block and sold, to whoever took a fancy to us. There wasn’t any ceremony or even that much of a spectacle, we were just property to be bought and sold. On the auction block we were very rudely examined and had our bottoms soundly slapped. Like babies. Made to blush and put into a series of very sexual poses. It was rudely determined & announced if were white silk, virgin, or not. Apparently this brought a slightly higher price in some markets like this one. Then the bidding started and finished quite quickly. Apparently if it is evident that one Master is particularly interested in a girl the other Men will rib Him with very desultory bids then quickly withdraw. Occasionally there might even be a fight, but that is usually because the Men want to fight anyway.

After we had been sold we were branded as property on our right buttock, a very pretty floral pattern once it healed, it was very painful and I like most girls had wet myself in the smithies. Sometimes slaves are made to lick that up, but fortunately it was a busy day and the urine was just swilled away. The brand is significant because although we were already property and had been since our capture, now we were owned by our Master.

Master had wanted a couple of blondes for His household, and was quite amused when He found out we not only knew each other but had been jealous rivals in our previous lives.  So He named us with each  other names emily for me and she was now adele, feminine earth names are somewhat popular here, although not with the native girls who might also be given such humiliating names.

And He and the other Men often teased us  with our rivalry playing us off against each other until we were nearly or in tears and then having us serve them sexually together. Just as this Master was doing now.

“I think you have both pleaded so well and prettily for the other to be punished that you both deserve to be beaten, isn’t that so slaves.”

“Yes Master, thank you Master.” We had both sobbed in misery.

“But  you may fetch me a drink, for now, and serve it together.”

“Yes Master, thank you Master.”

On our knees we had pressed the drink between our breasts rolling the heavy goblet  lovingly and kissing the rim respectfully before lifting it to Him above our lowered heads.

“Please Master, this girl brings your drink and begs to be permitted to please you with her obedient lips as you are refreshed, Master, thank you Master.”

He had us repeat a few more suggestive phrases until finally He was satisfied He took the heavy goblet from our trembling fingers. And snapped His fingers to instruct to silence.

Later in the afternoon He took us both crawling on all fours in front of Him to His room, placing and securing us together in the small pleasure stocks. Designed to keep one or more girls kneeling face down bottom in the air where she might be whipped or entered  anally or vaginally as He chooses. Or just to detain, or to punish  her for a while. We had all been kept in similar stocks at the auction house for  few days before market day and our sale, kneeling face to the wall gagged. And also in similar stocks in the smithies waiting our turn to be branded.

We were both secured closely together and then gagged with each other warm and thickly slick panties. I heard another female voice behind me speaking to Him. By design & intent  we were unable to turn to see her or Him behind us. She was told to bring another 2 pairs of unwashed still sexually soiled panties from the laundry room and put them on us. We would simmer hotly in the intimately filthy panties soaking them with our own sex and fear, our arousal mingling with the stale arousal of the girl who wore them last night.

The Men found all this highly amusing. It was originally only an import thing and a novelty, but has become very enjoyable for them. Not so for us, the native girls find it demeaning, but we fin it totally humiliating. And it reminds us, so emphatically and emotionally of our capture & being reduced to our proper place, too, which is part of the intention.

He then after musing for a moment also decided to hood us both in the tight closely fitting leather bag hoods, that buckled closed around our necks just under our chins. This also reminded us so much of the horrid transport hoods and also how helpless we were in his bondage, under His command.

Then stepping behind us I heard the swish and crack of the crop in the air as He swiped her then me  with a single but fiercely stinging lash with the crop between our thighs, just one lash but perfectly placed to sting our intimacies and the inner soft point of our bottoms. We squealed and sobbed in pain and misery, muffled by our pantie gags. Then He pushed the whip very lightly upright between my already smarting cheeks. I was to hold it perfectly straight. If I dared to let it slip even a fraction my beating would be at least doubled. She was also given another crop to hold, and the heavy leather curtain was closed around the rack. The curtain would keep the smell and moist heat of sex and fear in the small airless humid enclosure until He opened the curtain  again.

We heard Him showering and fucking the other girl in the shower, her cries and sobs of submission, before she dried Him and was dismissed with  a loud slap on her bottom. With a satisfied chuckle He also left the room, leaving us to simmer for Him.

Much later that night, He returned and whipped us both, still together in the stocks six lashes each first she then I. The thick springy leather crop spreading pain across our bottoms and the tops of our tender thighs. Her squealing into the pantie bag in pain and distress, and me listening whimpering in fearful anticipation and misery. Then it was my turn.  But then another six for her when she was already stinging and smarting as the first six had ripened. And then another awful horrible six for me.

Afterwards we served Him together licking and sucking Him devotedly and obediently. Despite or rather shamefully because He had whipped us so soundly, and we had been found ‘too beautiful not to be whipped’ we were both helplessly wet.

We had served him cold beer and then pleaded to be permitted to placate and please Him, both of us kissing and licking at His fully erect shaft and swollen balls together, just as we had kissed His whip earlier that afternoon, and then just now thanking Him for His firm discipline.

 

 

 

We had squirmed and squelched at His feet, as we begged to please Him. The Masters always say that imported blondes squidge prettily with slave heat after punishment or a spanking prior to fellatio. And the sweet smell,  so strongly with our helpless need to please. But all the girls are constantly hot and desperate to please the Masters.   

 He locked  us both in pleasure cuffs, designed for rape or fellatio whichever He chooses. The rather delicate looking, but totally secure, for slavegirls,  belly chain with its heart shaped links and cuffs at the rear. His doing this so expertly, with no consent on our part, consideration except only what He wanted just as it should always be. Making our already sex soiled panties very sticky and warm indeed.

He gave us permission to begin sucking Him, taking turns taking His swollen glans in our lips, with the other kissing His thick erect shaft. Sometimes the Men like to leave us uncuffed at first so we can massage His shaft with our breasts while we suck. At least until the first splash of precum, before He takes full charge and penetrates us deep into our mouth and at the throat, always all the way deep throat in, for His enjoyment as He fucks our mouth.

He had spurted His precum first into my mouth, but i was made to share this pre taste of his pleasure to cum .

And again after He had penetrated me fully as I choked and spluttered helplessly gagging on His thick manhood, taking turns but He had burst into  my mouth. Filling mine with his thick cum before also filling hers and then blowing&  cascading all over our faces and breasts with His thick sticky bursts. The Men here are well endowed and quite sexually insatiable, with thick sticky cum.

Then after He sat back satisfied for a short while enjoying His drink and watching us choke on His load, waiting to swallow and then thanking Him for being allowed to swallow. He took us both to His bed, but again fucked me first. Gagged with the now very sticky hot panties He had peeled from me. Slave raping me both virginally and anally while she kissed at Him desperately.

I had sobbed so helplessly in His arms as He spurted deep inside me and I succumbed to wave after wave of submissive slave orgasms, while  still helplessly lovingly impaled on Him,  so intimately submissive and obedient for him. Then finished He had lifted me off, I was still having waves of climax, but that was of no import to him.  and had us both lick Him clean.

But for a few moments I had felt so wonderful as my rival kissed and licked Him just as lovingly as I did but she was so desperate. And then  the brute, he had dismissed me back to my cage.

“Back to your kennel now Miss Adel….oh or rather little fucktoy emily.” He laughed.

“Yes Master, thank you Master.” I had sobbed feeling suddenly so used and discarded, as a slave should feel when her Master is finished with her.

“Don’t forget your little panties slave, you can scrub the floors with them tomorrow.” 

“Yes Master, thank you Master.” I sobbed.

He had slapped my bottom as I left.

“Come here adele.” He told my rival.

Outside the room I had fled in tears down to the kennels. The guard had been quite amused but had another slave between His legs, otherwise He might have wanted fellatio for his troubles. I so wanted to please Him then, I was so needy for male attention. Fellatio is especially good after a girl has been fucked then sent back to the kennels apparently. So much so that sometimes the Men get quite competitive for this duty.

For some reason instructions had been given tonight that I was to sleep in the iron belt tonight. The chastity device often used on new slaves before they are first opened, or afterwards often to simmer them. Your wrists are locked in cuffs behind the belt. To ‘prevent a slave feeling and touching what belongs to her owners’ not that a slave girl would ever dare to even try to masturbate, but the position of cuffs and the belt makes her think about her needs and simmer constantly.

Some time later, quite a satisfying short time later adele was sent down to the kennels, dismissed and in tears just as I was still. But to my surprise and absolute horror she was pushed into the tiny kennel with me. It wasn’t my kennel, nothing belonged to us we were possessions, not even our names. We were assigned whatever kennel the guard chose each evening.

She was in the belt too and we had no choice but to wrap ourselves round each other and try to sleep in the tiny space as best we could.

The next day we put to work together, as was so often the case, scrubbing the floor with our panties. But this was especially humiliating, but we were also very contented and obedient. As were all the other girls whenever they served Master or one of His many guests. She even kissed me, and I returned the
kiss in tears. ‘this girl is so glad you are a slavegirl.’ She told me, ‘And this girl is so glad you are too.’ I told her. ‘and we are so glad that He is Master, thank You Master.’ We whispered together.  

He stayed for a few days after that but never spoke to either of us again, no matter how sweetly and pathetically we both said ‘good morning or good afternoon Master’ if He passed us.