Sisters in Slavery Page 11
Dawnelle made her resolution clear on the very first day. “You,” she told Melissa as the blonde knelt before her, “are going to be the best, most obedient and most submissive slave that Shimatsu has ever had the pleasure of owning. I do not intend to be beaten by that arrogant swine, Siteki, and I don’t care what I have to do to you to make you a more desirable slave than your sister is. You are going to work, slave, and don’t expect any mercy from me if I’m not satisfied!”
Melissa looked up at the dominant woman towering over her and felt her blood run cold as she realised that anything less than perfection would not be tolerated. So it proved and on every day that followed, the small blonde flinched and gasped as her errors and shortcomings, no matter how tiny, earned instant retribution from the crop her Mistress carried at all times. Over and over, Melissa forced her aching, whip-striped body to assume the Display, Submission and Punishment positions, struggling despairingly to satisfy the demands of her perfectionist Mistress. And over and over, the crop left its mark on her buttocks and thighs and belly as Dawnelle expressed her displeasure at Melissa’s failure to arch her spine deeply enough, or point her toes sufficiently, or even fail to show total submission in the look on her face!
It was a living nightmare and at night, alone in her cell, Melissa wept bitter tears, wondering if she could ever be good enough to please the merciless redhead. Slowly, though, inch by painful inch, Melissa’s performance crept towards Dawnelle’s impossibly high standards until, to the slave’s joy, Dawnelle grudgingly announced that the day’s exercises had been, “Adequate.”
That evening, Melissa was rewarded with the first climax she had been allowed for a week and as her spreadeagled body responded frantically to her Mistress’s fingers and lips, she surrendered completely to her enforced passion, no longer caring that she was at the mercy of another woman. Male or female made no difference, her submission was that of a slave and the intensity of her need took no account of gender.
As she watched the blonde’s willing acceptance of a slave’s climax and heard her soft moans of ecstasy, Dawnelle grinned with triumph. Melissa was as hot and responsive as any slave she had ever seen and she knew that Siteki could have been no more successful with his trainee than she was with hers. “That’ll show him,” she muttered to herself. “My slave will prove to him that I am a real Mistress and just as dominant as he is. There is nothing he can do that I can’t.”
Or so she believed... but then, Dawnelle didn’t know about the secret deal between Shimatsu and Siteki.
In order to demonstrate to Siteki how superbly she had trained Melissa, Dawnelle decided to put on a show for the muscular Oriental and invite him to sample the charms of the fully trained and intensely responsive blonde. So it was that Melissa found herself helplessly bound once more, her wrists and elbows clamped together behind her, ankles held wide apart by a steel spreader-bar and a thick blindfold buckled over her eyes.
To ensure her slave’s complete docility, Dawnelle ran a chain through a ceiling pulley to Melissa’s cuffed wrists and levered her arms upwards behind her back until the blonde bent forward, her torso parallel to the floor and her taut breasts hanging beneath her like ripe fruit waiting to be picked. Melissa’s horror was completed as the redhead then attached light chains to her nipple rings and tensioned them to a ringbolt in the floor, depriving Melissa of even the smallest possibility of movement!
“Siteki will be here in a few minutes,” Dawnelle announced, “and he’s going to have you as a full slave.”
Melissa whimpered her brain full of vivid images of how desirable and helpless she must look and how easily a Master could use her but Dawnelle had not finished.
“While he has you, slave,” she went on, “you will pleasure me with your lips!”
“Please, Mistress...,” Melissa began, her displayed nudity trembling, but Dawnelle’s crop hissed down across her unprotected buttocks.
The redhead snarled, “Silence, bitch! I’m not interested in hearing anything a slave has to say!”
The blonde yelped as the cruel blow striped her bottom, and then was silent, fear of her Mistress’s wrath blending oddly with the slave-heat that glowed in her belly as she faced the prospect of being forced to serve two dominants at the same time. She knew that the desire she felt was the product of her rigorous training and that she had been conditioned to respond to such a shameful and humiliating idea exactly as she had. However, knowing it did not reduce its effects upon her and as her belly swirled and quivered to waves of heat and her nipples began to stiffen in anticipation of the ordeal to come, Melissa understood that she had become the slave her collar proclaimed her to be!
As Siteki strode into the room and laughed, “Congratulations, Dawnelle! A most delightfully presented slave!” Melissa’s sex grew wet and slippery with the juices of her helpless need.
“I’m sure you will find her satisfactory,” Dawnelle replied coldly and the tightly bound slave shivered, hearing the unspoken threat should she not be satisfactory.
“I’m sure I shall,” and his fingers darted to Melissa’s body, sliding easily in the well-lubricated channel of her sex as he assessed her readiness.
Unable to help her reaction, Melissa writhed as his fingers penetrated her, but her instinctive response brought her a double retribution. The chains to her nipple rings tugged at her pierced flesh and Dawnelle sent her crop cracking across her bottom, snapping, “Keep still, slave!”
Melissa had no choice and forced herself to obey, clenching her teeth and fighting to keep still as Siteki’s fingers explored and probed the agonisingly sensitive recesses of her belly, her arousal zooming to near-unbearable levels as her Masters imposed their absolute dominance on her.
“Hot little slut, isn’t she?” Siteki chuckled and Dawnelle gave a tinkling laugh.
“She’d better be, or she’ll answer to me! I don’t believe in taking it easy on a slave and as far as I’m concerned, any slave who isn’t perfect ought to be whipped until she is!”
Siteki smiled at the redhead. “How right you are, Dawnelle,” he agreed smoothly, “my philosophy exactly and I shall be sure to apply it to any slave I train in the future.” His black eyes glittered.
Dawnelle nodded, then gestured at Melissa’s stringent bondage, “What do you think of the tie I’ve put her in? Rather good, I think.”
“Very good. Especially the nipple chains.”
“Yes, I like those. They hold her really well and if a slave has got rings, I thought, why not use them?”
“Why not, indeed? They ensure obedience and remind a slave what she is. And as you know, I am a firm believer in the disciplinary value of piercings.”
“Yes, I know you are and having seen the effects on this slave and her sister, I’ve decided to try it out for myself when I go back.”
“An excellent idea, Dawnelle,” Siteki chuckled, “I’m sure you will be astonished by the results.” He grinned at the tall redhead.
Bent over in her implacable bondage, blindfolded and with her body in a ferment of submissive arousal, Melissa could do nothing but wait as her Masters talked, their casual arrogance and inattention to her available nudity, adding to her sense of powerlessness and subjugation.
The surprise addition of the blindfold had had the effect of greatly increasing Melissa’s perception of her own helpless vulnerability and as Siteki’s hands had toyed with her, a towering orgasm had built inexorably, until she teetered on the edge of a terrifying precipice of need. Then, when only a touch would have been enough to send her hurtling down into her climax, he had stopped!
If she had dared, Melissa would have begged him to continue but she did not dare, for she knew that her disobedience would earn her a merciless punishment; and, too awful to contemplate, the possibility that she would be denied her climax altogether! The Masters might decide to punish her by not letting her come and Melissa could not – and would not – risk such a chance. No matter how long it took, or what she had to suffer, she was no
t – not – going to give them the smallest excuse to deprive her of what she wanted so badly.
It was a decision that confirmed her as a genuine slave and Melissa was well aware that she would never again be able to persuade herself that she was anything other than a slave...but her passion was strong within her and she needed and wanted and longed for the release of the orgasmic pressure cooker boiling in her belly.
Dawnelle moved to stand in front of Melissa and raised her mini-skirt. “Pleasure me, slave,” she ordered and pressed her belly against her blindfolded face.
Without an instant’s hesitation, the blonde obeyed, her lips and tongue nuzzling and licking at her Mistress’s labia and sex, her nostrils filled with the musky scent of the redhead’s arousal. Dawnelle sighed with pleasure, then called to Siteki, “Be my guest. Take her if you wish. Slaves have to learn to please any Masters and this one could do with the lesson.”
Melissa whimpered, but her lips and tongue never faltered in their busy tempo and Dawnelle beamed in triumph at the incontrovertible evidence of her slave’s complete submission.
Siteki didn’t need a second invitation, shedding his trousers and moving between Melissa’s spread thighs, his strong hands gripping her hips as he thrust his rigid erection into the slick heat of her sex. A muffled shriek of welcome and surrender burst from Melissa’s nose and she climaxed at once, drawing Siteki’s maleness deep into the pulsating whirlpool of her belly as her scalding love juices showered down like hot rain over his thick shaft.
Distracted by the frenzied spasms of her terrific climax, her lips ceased their stimulation of her Mistress’s body. A mistake which was immediately punished as the crop seared across Melissa’s gyrating buttocks, branding stripes of stinging heat into her defenceless flesh as the redhead snapped, “Continue, slave! You were not given permission to stop.”
The combination of a climax, punishment, ruthless discipline and the sharp twinges at her breasts as she jerked in response to the crop, was far, far too much and Melissa’s belly kicked, juddered and pulsed to continuous mini-orgasms as she was forced to resume her submissive pleasuring of her Mistress. Even as her Master’s rigid shaft pistoned into her roiling belly.
Spiralling downwards into a vortex of lust and subjugation and pained ecstasy, Melissa abandoned all pretence of control and surrendered unreservedly to her slave-trained passions, her belly exploding in coruscating spasms as orgasm upon orgasm crashed through her body and her lips worked dementedly at her Mistress’s sex.
Siteki’s spend thundered into her and she screamed in shocked disbelief as his release triggered even greater chaos in her body, renewed billows of foaming juices mingling and mixing with the powerful jets of his climax in the swamped confines of her belly as she came and came with stupendous, mind-numbing power.
Shocked at the sheer depth and extent of her enforced passion and with her whole body shuddering and quivering to the pandemonium in her belly, Melissa knew that she had still not completed the tasks ordered by Dawnelle. The redhead had not yet reached her orgasm and if she did not, Melissa knew she would be the one to suffer.
Doing her best to ignore the spasms that rippled through her body and the fact that Siteki was still buried in her belly, Melissa concentrated as best she could on bringing her Mistress the pleasure she demanded. Pursing her lips, she tugged gently at the redhead’s engorged clitoris and licked the puffy-swollen petals of her labia, using all of the experience she had gathered from previous pleasurings of the woman during her training.
Dawnelle’s eyes were closed, her expression beatific as she wallowed in the erotic sensations of Melissa’s soft lips on her body. As the blonde’s tongue dived into the receptive heat of Dawnelle’s sex and pushed her into a long, shuddering orgasm of delicious, tingling rapture, the redhead was oblivious to Siteki’s intent scrutiny as he noted every detail of her responses. Details that he carefully stored away in his brain for future use.
Some time later, released from her stringent bondage and kneeling humbly before her fully dressed Mistress, Melissa saw her sister precede Siteki into the room and kneel alongside her.
“You have submitted and served your Masters as full slaves,” he said bluntly. “What are you?”
He pointed to Maxine.
I am a f-full slave, Master,” she stammered.
He pointed to Melissa.
“I-I am a full sl-slave, Master,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he told them, “you are. In two days, you will kneel before Mr. Shimatsu as full slaves and you will serve him in any way he commands. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. It does not matter what you once were, because you are now only slaves. There is no escape and no appeal against what you are. Your only duty is to serve perfectly and if you fail, you will be punished. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. Then your initial training is almost complete. So far, you have performed satisfactorily, but you are now fully trained slaves and the only acceptable standard is perfection. Do not forget that, slaves, because not all Masters are as lax as Dawnelle and myself.”
Maxine and Melissa gulped as they stared up at the two dominants. Lax was not a word they would ever have connected with the pair and wondered just how much more demanding any other Masters could be?
Dawnelle chuckled as she saw the anxiety in their faces. “What’s the matter, slaves?” she sneered. “Surely you didn’t expect things to get easier, did you? Well, if you did, you’re wrong! You’ve only just begun to learn how to be real slaves and as soon as I finish the last few days’ work on my new computer security system, I’ll be able to devote myself full-time to making quite sure that you two know exactly what is required of you.”
Maxine shivered and dropped her eyes as the redhead glared at her, understanding that Dawnelle still harboured resentment against her and meant to make her suffer.
“How much work do you still have to do?” Siteki asked casually.
“Two days, maybe three,” Dawnelle replied, “certainly no more.”
“And then?”
“I suppose I really should think about getting back to the office. I’d like to stay longer, but if I don’t get back soon, Andrew Morrison will begin to think that I’ve been kidnapped as well.” She gave a shrug, “Pity really, I would have liked to have seen them serving Mr. Shimatsu’s guests next month.”
“Perhaps you will, Dawnelle,” Siteki said softly, “I know he would like you to be there and in spite of our, ah, differences of opinion, so would I.”
Dawnelle looked at him suspiciously, “You would? Well... thank you for saying so. I appreciate it. But I thought you didn’t agree with women, especially Western women, being dominant?”
“Normally, that is so, Dawnelle,” he replied, smiling broadly. “But you are stronger than most women, mentally and physically and you understand the needs and desires that can be used to turn any woman into a slave. That is a rare quality and most valuable. Few people have that passion and even fewer allow that passion to become reality. But it burns in you, Dawnelle, and it found its outlet in controlling and dominating others.”
He paused and stared deep into her hazel eyes. “If it had not,” he said slowly, “and I mean no offence in this, it is my belief that you would have become a superbly submissive slave, rather than a Mistress.”
Dawnelle’s jaw dropped open and she gaped at him in speechless amazement.
“I may be wrong, of course,” he added reflectively, “only you can know for certain.”
Dawnelle found her voice at last. “No,” she told him, “no, you’re quite wrong. I would never be a slave. No way. Definitely not.”
“Of course not,” he agreed quickly, “I apologise again for thinking it. You are a dominant, of course. A Mistress, as you told me before. I should not have doubted it.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she replied h
astily, “I am a Mistress and I wouldn’t ever choose to be a-a slave. Never!”
“I understand. Let us forget I spoke of it. You return to your computers and I shall continue with the slaves’ training until Mr. Shimatsu is ready. We shall doubtless meet again then.”
Dawnelle nodded silently and turned to leave, then turned back. “Why did you say that?” she asked curiously. “Whatever made you think I could be a slave?”
Siteki looked at her soberly. “You are a beautiful woman,” he told her calmly, “and your body is certainly good enough to attract the desire of men, as you must know. Even in the West there must be some dominant men and if you had found yourself collared and in chains as a naked prisoner, do you imagine you could have resisted a true Master any more than these slaves who kneel before us?”
Dawnelle looked at his face, then at the displayed bodies of Maxine and Melissa and she gave a little shudder. “I never thought of it like that,” she murmured, almost to herself and shuddered again. Then, with a visible effort, she controlled herself and said firmly, “No! I would never be as weak as they would. I’m much stronger than any pathetic little slave!” She turned on her heel and strode from the room.
Siteki’s lips curved in a thin smile as her back disappeared from his view. “You may be strong, Dawnelle,” he chuckled evilly, “but not strong enough to break free of the steel I shall lock on your throat. Then, we shall see whether you can resist becoming a slave...” His cruel laughter rang around the bare cell.
He turned back to the two wide-eyed blondes, ignoring the confusion on their faces as they tried to understand what had just taken place. “Up, slaves,” he ordered cheerfully, “there is work to be done, so let’s get on with it.”
Soo Lin Nakajima pressed the empty glass to her lips in a delicate kiss, then held it out in both cuffed hands and bowed her head in submission. As he took the glass, Siteki smiled down at the tiny, naked slave kneeling at his feet and said, “Now, that is how a slave serves her Master. Thank you, Soo Lin. Back in line.”