Sisters in Slavery Read online

  “Horny little bitch, aren’t you?” Joe sneered. “I enjoyed having you. Shame you’re being sent away, really. I wouldn’t mind having you around, especially on the night shift.”

  He fell silent and Melissa shuddered, aware of his eyes on her body and of the disgraceful shiver of excitement his words sent rippling up her spine as she imagined being kept tied up and naked, locked away somewhere, to be brought out and taken whenever he or Des felt the urge. Such feelings were very alien to Melissa – or had been before that night – and as she struggled to come to terms with them, she heard the distant whine of the lift doors opening and the sound of several sets of footsteps approaching.

  As he approached the Boardroom, Des reviewed the excuse he would give for taking so long. Satisfied, he swung open the doors and marched in, his eyes immediately drawn to the naked blonde spreadeagled on the huge table, her gaping thighs liberally stained with silvery trails. He tore his eyes away with a huge effort and saluted his boss, Andrew Morrison, then began his report, “The second girl has been captured and bound as you ordered, sir.” He said, “It took longer than expected, sir, as she tried to escape. My partner has stayed with her, sir. Just to be quite certain.”

  Morrison nodded, “Very well, a sensible precaution. Where is she?”

  “In the corridor by the loading dock, sir.”

  “Good. That’s where we want her. OK, now release her legs, but watch her closely. She kicks.”

  Dawnelle laughed coldly and tossed Des the scissors, “You’ll need these.”

  Maxine groaned bitterly and her blue eyes filled with tears as she heard that Melissa had not escaped, but was sensible enough to realise that any attempt on her part to resist again would be doomed to failure, lying still as the three Directors rose from their chairs to form a semi-circle around her as Des cut the straps binding her legs to the table.

  “Get her on her feet,” Morrison ordered. Des grabbed her, pulling her onto the floor and holding her strapped-together elbows in a firm grip.

  “Keep quite still!” Carlo Crespi snapped. Maxine shivered as he bent and linked her ankles together with another strap, allowing her about a foot of freedom.

  “Right. Take her down to the loading bay.”

  As Des gave her a shove, Maxine stumbled forward, almost falling as the strap between her ankles tightened suddenly and restricted her to tiny, awkward steps. Escape was impossible and as Maxine made her slow and painful way out of the Boardroom and into the waiting lift, hot tears of misery rolled down her gagged cheeks, her despair compounded as Dawnelle taunted her, “Slut!” the redhead hissed furiously. “Hot little tart! I hope I get the chance to give you the whipping you deserve!”

  Maxine shivered in horror. Why was the redhead so angry with her, so determined to punish her? Wasn’t it enough that Maxine had been bound, gagged, and taken by the two male Directors? That she was to be enslaved in a foreign land.

  The lift sighed to a stop, the doors slid open and Maxine was pushed forward and down a long corridor, her fears growing as she stumbled towards a fate she could not avoid.

  A muffled scream of horror burst from Maxine’s nose as she turned the corner towards the loading bay and saw her sister. Still balanced on one leg, her naked breasts and sex showing all too clearly the torments she had been made to endure, Melissa was equally as helpless and vulnerable as Maxine herself – and any last, faint hope died at the shocking sight.

  Dawnelle took the scissors back from Des and as she began to slice through the leather of Melissa’s crumpled skirt, the captive blonde squealed shrilly, unable to see what was happening. The leather fell away and Dawnelle turned her attention to the sweater over Melissa’s head, cutting and tearing it away until her wild, bulging eyes and gagged, sweat streaked face stared wildly up at the tall redhead.

  “Hmm,” Andrew Morrison commented casually, “Twins in every respect, it appears.” The twin sisters shuddered in unison as his cold eyes swept over their naked bodies, assessing two pairs of full matching breasts, two pairs of slim, well-shaped legs and the softly curving roundness of belly and buttocks.

  Joe straightened as Morrison looked at him, “I see you did not waste your time with this young lady,” he said calmly.

  “Sir,” Joe replied respectfully, “she tried to escape, sir.”

  “Oh, no need to be nervous,” Morrison chuckled, “I certainly don’t mind and as she’s going to be enslaved anyway, she will have to get used to it, won’t she?” He ignored Melissa’s stunned whimper as she learned what her future was to be and nodded at Carlo Crespi, “Do you still have the straps, Carlo?”

  He did and as Melissa tugged vainly at her bonds; he fitted one to each of her wrists, elbows, knees and ankles, exactly as he had done to Maxine. When he had finished, Morrison ordered Joe to release Melissa’s handcuffs.

  Conscious that he was being watched by his boss, Joe gave her not even a small chance to escape, leaving her left ankle cuffed to the rail so that she could not possibly make a fool of him by resisting successfully. In seconds, she was cuffed once again and only then did he release her ankle and take a firm grip on her left arm.

  “Very good. Take these slaves to the loading bay,” Morrison ordered and as the two girls were marched out, they trembled helplessly as the word “slave” was applied to them for the first time.

  When she saw the open container waiting, Melissa fought like a wildcat, kicking and struggling with panicky fury and it took the combined efforts of Joe and Crespi to haul her thrashing body inside. Only when she was forced back against the side wall and a broad plastic securing strap clamped about her throat to hold her in place, did Melissa give up the unequal battle, her breasts heaving and tears running down her cheeks as she was forced to accept defeat. Trembling in despair, she allowed her legs to be spread and strapped immovably at knees and ankles, then submitted to having her arms released, spread equally wide and her elbows and wrists clamped in place. A last strap at her waist completed her bondage and her eyes showed her helpless horror as she found herself utterly immobilised, incapable of the smallest voluntary movement.

  Morrison turned to Maxine, “I’m sure you see how useless it is to fight,” he said coldly. “If you even try to cause any trouble, both you and your sister will learn to regret it,” his eyes bored into hers and she felt an icy chill run up her spine.

  Much as she wanted to resist being tied in the container, Melissa’s efforts had shown how hopeless their situation was – and she believed Morrison. She had good reason to, for the throbbing ache in her shoulders reminded her that she had tried to defy him once and been cruelly punished for it.

  Maxine’s eyes slid away from his gaze and he nodded in satisfaction, “Very sensible. OK, she won’t be any trouble.”

  As she was pushed into the container and positioned against the wall opposite her sister, all Maxine could do was to give an apologetic shrug and hope that Melissa would understand. There was no point in fighting if you were certain to lose. Was there?

  The straps between her ankles and at her elbows were cut, then, as Maxine was bound into a standing spreadeagle exactly as Melissa had been, it was too late to wonder. It was not, however, too late to worry, for, as the two Security Guards fetched a comfortable armchair and positioned it between the bound girls, they realised that they were to be accompanied on their journey.

  “Have a good trip, Dawnelle,” Morrison said and the redhead chuckled richly.

  “Oh, I shall,” she assured him, “I have lots of ideas in mind to pass the next twelve hours.” Her eyes glittered with a malice that boded ill for her two captives and Maxine shuddered in fear as she realised that Dawnelle was to have an uninterrupted twelve hours to do exactly as she wished with them both!

  “Fetch my bags from my car, please,” Dawnelle asked and Des hurried out.

  “I’ll notify Mr. Shimatsu that you’re on your way,” Morrison said and as Dawnelle nodded, Maxine realised what her final destination was to be. The other side of t
he world! It was a stunning blow and her brain reeled. Over ten thousand miles away!

  She didn’t speak the language. Didn’t know the customs! Knew nobody – not a single person! The full horror of the plan sank into her brain and she shrieked into her gag, knowing that both she and Melissa were in a trap from which there could never be an escape!

  Her fingers clawed at empty air, her eyes wild with terror, but as Dawnelle watched with an evil smile on her lovely face, Maxine’s frantic efforts achieved precisely nothing and as Des returned with the redhead’s luggage and the final farewell was made, the distraught captive subsided into an abyss of black despair. The doors of the container clanged shut and Dawnelle moved her chair to where Melissa stood.

  “Now, slave,” she said, sitting down and relaxing, “I shall explain to you what your sister already knows. Why you are here and what is going to happen to you.”

  She reached down and zipped one of her bags open, extracting a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, lighting one and blowing out a lazy plume of smoke. “Your sister is a very honest woman,” she began, “and also a very stupid one. She found out about a rather large fraud, but instead of being sensible and finding out who was running it and maybe cutting herself in on the deal, she went straight to the top and reported to Morrison. The trouble was he was part of the fraud, along with me and Crespi and Shimatsu himself. Well, we couldn’t have that, now can we? And with her being so honest, we couldn’t trust her to take a cut and keep quiet. So we came up with another idea and this is it. We’re all on our way to a private island that Shimatsu owns. A very private island! One where he and a few close friends can really enjoy themselves and be quite certain that nobody will disturb them, and to help them enjoy themselves, he has some – what should I call them – permanent staff? No, let’s call them slaves, shall we? Very submissive, very obedient slaves, in fact, slaves just like you and your sister are going to become!” Her voice grew cold and hard, “Slaves who will serve in any way that Shimatsu and his guests desire.”

  Melissa’s eyes grew wide with disbelief as Dawnelle spoke and she shook her head as much as the strap about her throat would allow, unwilling – unable – to accept the truth of what she was hearing.

  Dawnelle chuckled cruelly and reached into her bag for a second time, “We have twelve hours together,” she said softly. “Hopefully that will be enough to convince you that what I say is true. You are both to become slaves, whether you believe it or not and one of the first things a slave must learn is the importance of discipline.” She removed her hand from the bag and Melissa gave a gasping whimper.

  “This,” Dawnelle announced unnecessarily, “is a crop. It is used to discipline slaves and as you will find out, I am an expert at doing just that. As slaves, you will doubtless be cropped regularly. You certainly would be if you were mine, but perhaps Shimatsu will be more lenient. Either way, you will find out and you might as well begin to learn what it means to be a slave right away.”

  Without another word, she lifted the crop high and sent it slashing across Melissa’s left thigh, the abbreviated whistle of its descent punctuated by the sharp crack of leather on flesh. For a frozen instant there was dead silence, then, as a vivid red stripe blossomed on her thigh and blistering heat erupted through her pinioned body, Melissa gave a muffled scream and her muscles corded in a vain attempt to alleviate the pain of the unexpected blow.

  Dawnelle watched her carefully, judging her reaction and as the stunned disbelief in Melissa’s eyes changed to horrified understanding that she could, and would be whipped, the tall redhead struck again. A second stinging stripe adorned Melissa’s right thigh and she howled into her gag, her body shot through with flaring heat.

  Casually, Dawnelle applied six more blows to Melissa’s flinching legs, forming a neat pattern of smarting red lines up the fronts of her thighs until the captive blonde whimpered and shuddered in pained anguish and tears poured down her gagged cheeks as she learned the lesson of her subjugation. The tip of the crop reached out and Melissa moaned in helpless denial as it tapped insistently at her sensitive nipples.

  To her intense shame, the delicate crinkled buds responded instinctively, stiffening to the leather’s caress as Dawnelle’s skilled and obviously well practised stimulation, overcame Melissa’s fear and desire to resist. At each tap, a jolt of unwanted arousal speared through Melissa’s breasts and, despite her humiliation, she could not help becoming sexually excited as her nipples grew fully erect.

  Defenceless in her bondage, she squealed in panic as the crop descended from her throbbing breasts to the hugely spread entrance of her sex and her eyes filled with a fearful longing as she anticipated the terrible havoc Dawnelle could create with a simple flick of her wrist. If she chose, Dawnelle could give Melissa exquisite pleasure or, if she was cruel, terrible agony and as Melissa realised just how totally she was in the power of the dominant redhead, the true reality of her slavery was burned into her quailing brain.

  The crop slid gently between the slippery petals of Melissa’s parted labia and she screamed softly as unbearable arousal ignited a fierce fire in her sex and belly which only an orgasm could extinguish. An orgasm that only Dawnelle could give her!

  She raised her eyes to stare pleadingly at the dominant woman, knowing as she did so, that it was an admission of her subjugation to Dawnelle’s will....but Melissa’s need was strong within her and she was powerless in its grasp.

  Dawnelle read the signal so clearly written in Melissa’s soft blue eyes and laughed mockingly! “When I’m ready, slave,” she sneered. “I know what you want, but you’re only a slave. I make the decisions, not you!” and she took the crop from Melissa’s body.

  The sheer arrogance of Dawnelle’s treatment of her took Melissa’s breath away, but as she gasped in shock, the fire in her belly redoubled to the knowledge that the redhead spoke the absolute truth. She really did make all the decisions and if she chose to make Melissa wait for the orgasm she desperately wanted, then wait was exactly what Melissa would have to do!

  It was a clear demonstration of Dawnelle’s power and the heat of Melissa’s cropped thighs mingled with the heat in her belly as she realised that it was only a foretaste of what might lie ahead for herself and her sister. Highly aroused, but denied her climax, Melissa shivered with fear as she visualised a future where Dawnelle, and others like her, could arouse and crop their captives as they saw fit. A future where slaves existed for the sexual pleasure of their captors – in hardly seemed possible yet, in less than twelve hours, it would be very real.

  She remembered Joe’s eyes as he had told her that he would like to keep her tied up and her own immediate excitement at the idea. There were men out there who wanted to enslave women and, soon, she would meet one who had made the idea into a reality!

  Maxine had watched with growing horror as her sister was cropped and aroused and as Dawnelle left Melissa frustrated and in need, Maxine knew that her turn had come. She steeled herself as best she could, knowing that Dawnelle disliked her, but could not prevent her body trembling as the redhead swivelled to face her and raised her crop.

  “And now you, you bitch,” Dawnelle said venomously, “I’ll teach you not to make me look stupid.”

  Chapter Three

  In the close confines of the freight container, still spreadeagled helplessly, Maxine slumped against her bonds, her naked body bedewed with sweat and her thighs and softly curved belly criss-crossed with red stripes testifying to her painful induction into slavery. Almost twelve hours had elapsed since Dawnelle had turned to her and begun to wreak her revenge and in that time, Maxine had lost count of the number of times the crop had lashed out to send searing heat through her body or toyed with her breasts and sex until she teetered on the edge of climax. Yet, never once had she been permitted to come and although she had screamed and wept and pleaded to be allowed to climax, Dawnelle had steadfastly refused to relent, her lovely face devoid of pity as she had denied Maxine the release her tormented body c
raved. Over and over again, a mixture of cropping and arousal had forced Maxine to a peak of sexual arousal, her body shuddering with need, but then Dawnelle had left her to her to her frustrated misery, turning her attentions to Melissa until Maxine’s feverish passions ebbed somewhat. Then the cycle of pain and pleasure had begun again, driving Maxine beyond reason, her body responding uncontrollably to both stimuli until she could no longer even tell one from the other.

  Propelled into a raging inferno of punishment and lust, Maxine was simply overwhelmed by a barrage of sensations the like of which she had never imagined, let alone experienced, and was unable to retain even the smallest measure of self-control, her body spiralling into a timeless limbo of abject submission to Dawnelle’s ruthless dominance. If she had been able, Maxine would have gone to her knees to beg for mercy, to plead for a climax, to offer herself as the lowliest, most humble of slaves but she was denied even that!

  As Dawnelle built her yet again to a straining pinnacle of enforced need, Maxine finally reached the outermost limit of her resistance...the invisible, but all too real, boundary beyond which lay an abyss of submission and bondage and subjugation to the will of others. On one side was freedom, on the other, slavery and as Maxine stared down from the sexual “high” imposed upon her, the last tiny protest of her arousal-numbed brain warned her that she must draw back and not take the last, irreversible step.

  The crop slashed cruelly across her smarting thighs, then slid into the slickly oozing channel of her sex and as a shrill scream of ecstatic anguish was torn from her throat, Maxine was sent hurtling into irrevocable slavery! Oblivious to everything but the incandescent fury of her passion, Maxine surrendered to the inevitable, appalled by what she knew to be a terrible mistake, but unable to resist the demands of her sexuality for an instant longer.