Submissives of the Colonel Page 5

  He strolled to his sleeping couch, lay down; and, in minutes, his breathing settled into the steady rhythm of sleep.

  Leaving Belinda helplessly bound and gagged in the whipping frame, her stained, cruelly abused body trembling in the aftermath of her enforced slave orgasms, her mind reeled as she struggled to come to terms with his sexual violation of her and what it presaged for her future. He had taken her as a slave, used her as a Master…and she had been unable to control her frenzied responses despite her horror and desperate efforts to resist. Worse still, Belinda knew that she had become shamefully aroused…was still shamefully aroused…her sex oozing juices and her breasts aching with need that refused to diminish as the night wore on.

  It could not be, she told herself repeatedly, it must not be that she longed for his touch and the entry of his maleness into her belly to extinguish the hot flames of desire that burned within her…but her body refused to heed the commands of her brain, and she whimpered softly in terrible anguish. Fearing the passions that tortured her and which he had unleashed by binding and whipping and taking her; passions which she had not suspected lay buried within her and to which she could only submit for as long as her Master chose to keep her collared and chained as a slave.

  Chapter Six

  Hot mid-morning sun beat down on Arabella and Belinda, droplets of sweat beading their naked breasts and bellies as they arched and spread their bodies into the graceful and blatantly erotic poses ordered by Ranee as the tall Indian slave put them through the rigorous training regime which had become a daily routine.

  “Kneeling display,” Ranee commanded, then, when she had checked to ensure that both women’s thighs were fully spread and their spines hollowed to present their breasts, snapped “Hogtie.” and watched closely as the English slaves fell to their bellies in the dust and reached back to grip their own ankles, the strain of the position curving their bodies until their tautened breasts and slim thighs barely brushed the earth on which they lay.

  The position was not an easy one to hold; but, in the week which had passed since Belinda’s enforced submission to Razak, she and Arabella had learned that Ranee was a most demanding trainer and was not interested in making their lives easy. Ranee had been given a job to do by her Master and took her duties very seriously, as the mesh of fresh red stripes and faded pink ones adorning the thighs and buttocks of her charges showed only too clearly.

  “Head up, bitch, and keep it up,” she said coldly. Belinda winced, jerking her head back and holding it rigidly, her face staring up at the dominant trainer and her jaw clenched to bite back a squeal as the girl’s thin switch bit into her left thigh and burning heat erupted through her flesh.

  She had not been given permission to scream and knew that she would be punished again if she failed to keep silent. That was a lesson she had learned the hard way on her very first day of training. She remembered vividly how Ranee had whipped her bottom and belly as she had writhed at her feet with her wrists chained behind her back, angrily protesting, at first, then pleading for mercy until she had realised that the only way to end her pain was to obey perfectly.

  It was the hardest thing she had ever done, but she had had no choice; and, as she had struggled to her knees, presented her body as beautifully as she knew how, and clamped her lips together so that not a single sound should emerge, Belinda had known that her obedience and submission marked her as a true slave.

  Ranee had known it, too, and had chuckled with pleasure then sent her switch scorching across Belinda’s offered belly twice, her eyes glittering with malice and amusement, as if daring the terrified blonde to move a single muscle.

  To her shame and despair, Belinda had not even risked blinking in case it earned her more whipping and, from that moment on, there had been no doubt in any of the three girls’ minds about who gave the orders and who obeyed instantly and without question.

  “Punishment position.”

  The order sent Arabella and Belinda to their knees, foreheads pressed to the ground, thighs spread, fingers clasped behind their necks, and buttocks raised high in the air.

  Ranee gazed down at the two embarrassingly posed Englishwomen and grinned cruelly, knowing that they would not dare to move or try to resist, no matter what she did to them. It gave her a thrilling sense of power, and she was in no mood to deny herself the pleasure of humiliating them still further. She bent and thrust two fingers into Arabella’s gaping sex, finding, as she expected, that the brunette was wet with sexual need.

  “Slut!” she hissed, and Arabella gasped and fought not to break her position as the knowing fingers explored her body with arrogant authority, her belly trembling helplessly as jolts of arousal speared upwards from her trainer’s touch. She did not want to be whipped for disobedience, so she forced herself not to clench her buttocks and thighs to trap the hand tormenting her, for she was well aware that she was being tested and that Ranee was waiting…hoping…for the slightest sign of resistance. She knew that would be all the excuse Ranee needed.

  “Slut!” Ranee said again, her tone one of disappointment that Arabella had managed to avoid punishment. She took her fingers from the brunette’s sex. “You are almost ready to serve the Masters like the hot, obedient little sex-slave I have trained you to be.”

  Arabella knew better than to speak without permission and was grateful that she did not have to, for she knew Ranee’s words were true. She was ready to serve men, her belly a cauldron of bubbling slave heat that even her numerous submissions at Ranee’s hands and whip had only intensified and deepened but never completely extinguished, her body sensitised to the point where a brief caress of the Indian girl’s hands or whip could bring her to the brink of climax and then force her over the edge into a shuddering orgasm.

  In her mind, though, Arabella realised that she would not have submitted finally, submitted as a full, totally subjugated slave, until she was taken and used by a man, her body pinned beneath him as he ravaged her with all the power of a ruthlessly dominant Master, forcing her to respond to his brutal strength and serve him however he chose, regardless of the wishes and desires of a humble slave. Realised too, that that moment, half terrifying and half wildly exciting, could not be far away.

  Ranee turned to Belinda; and, as she probed the slickly lubricated recesses of her belly, the blonde whimpered and a spurt of hot juices wetted the Indian girl’s fingers. Unlike Arabella, who had not yet submitted fully to a Master, Belinda had been made to serve Razak for a whole night and part of a day and the slaver Prince had given her no option but to surrender utterly to her sexual slavery. Aroused, whipped and taken several times, the hapless blonde had been unable to resist her uncontrollable passions and been forced to confront and accept her slavery, as her Master had known that she must.

  Handed over to Ranee for slave training, with strict instructions to use every opportunity to deepen and intensify her enforced acceptance, Belinda had been permitted no chance whatever to go back on the submission she had given; and, as Ranee’s whip and fingers completed the task that Razak’s merciless dominance had begun, the English blonde’s last defences had crumbled away, and she had become a full slave, in mind as well as body.

  Ranee straightened and sneered down at her captive. “Randy little bitch,” she grinned and sent her switch cracking across Belinda’s upraised bottom. “I did not give you permission to come, slave.”

  The punished blonde flinched as she was struck but dared not protest, and her face flushed with embarrassment as Ranee chuckled cruelly at her obedience.

  “Just a week ago, you were Memsahibs,” Ranee hissed. “Proud and haughty Englishwomen who looked down on slaves like me and even dared to imagine that you were better than the Masters. But I see no Memsahibs now. Only two naked slaves on their knees in the dust, bellies filled with slave heat, and ready to beg to be taken by a Master.”

  She paused for a moment then went on, “But you have not yet earned that pleasure, sluts. Remain as you are until I return.”
Then she hurried away.

  Head down and unable to see, Arabella longed to ask her friend if she was all right but was afraid that the ruthless Indian girl might be trying to trick her. She couldn’t be sure that Ranee was not still behind her with her switch ready to strike, and Arabella was not prepared to take the risk of finding out. For several minutes, the two English slaves waited, each knowing that their obedience confirmed Ranee’s power over them and added fuel to the ever present slave heat in their bellies, and then they heard her footsteps approaching, accompanied by the ominous clinking of chains…..

  “On your feet, slaves. Fingers clasped behind your necks.”

  With her wrist cuffs locked to the ring at the back of her collar and her bent elbows forming a frame for her anxious face, Arabella dared not protest as a strong chain was wrapped twice around her slim waist and padlocked, the iron links tight on her flesh.

  Then it was Belinda’s turn, and the blonde gulped as Ranee clipped a thin, much smaller chain to the centre of the bands at her belly and ordered her to bend forward. To her anguished disbelief, the Indian girl then reached through her spread legs and pulled the thin chain back and up between her thighs and clipped it to the chain at the small of her back.

  Belinda squealed and jerked upright as the cool, hard links slipped between the engorged pink folds of her labia and her thighs snapped together in a quite instinctive attempt to prevent the chain from sinking further into her sex, but she was far too late. Her reaction only made matters worse as the chain tightened and buried itself deeper in her body.

  Ranee chuckled evilly as the blonde moaned in despair, her belly trembling as her shocked blue eyes stared wildly down at the chain rising from the joint of her thighs, then Belinda squealed shrilly as the switch burned across her thighs as she was punished for straightening from the position into which Ranee had ordered her.

  Whimpering in pain and horror, Belinda was forced to spread her legs and arch her spine into the display position of a slave; and, as the chain slid through her labia, arousing her unmercifully, her bulging eyes told of her helpless shame as she realised that any movement of her body must inevitably result in unwanted, and quite unavoidable, stimulation of her invaded sex. With her arms bound to her collar, there was nothing she could do to stop it; and, as Ranee nodded in satisfaction and moved to Arabella, Belinda understood and had to accept that she was to be given no option but to submit and climax as a slave to the chains that bound her and would arouse her at every step she took, whether she willed it or not.

  It was the same harsh lesson that Arabella learned; as, minutes later, the brunette gasped with anguish as uncompromising chain tightened and slid between her legs, its presence building her passion to unbearable levels as Ranee ordered her wide eyed captives to resume their training, her switch flicking at their naked breasts and buttocks as she forced them to bend and stretch and arch their bodies into the humiliatingly explicit poses of their submission. Her eyes glittered with pleasure and malice as her skilful bondage did its work and devastating arousal poured through the panting, sweating bodies of the two trainee slaves.

  Belinda succumbed first, falling to the earth and rolling into a tight, shuddering ball as a first, massive orgasm erupted into her quaking belly, her squeals of ecstatic release mixed with squeals of pain as Ranee whipped her flexing bottom for surrendering to her need without first receiving permission, the combination extracting still more fervid convulsions from the blonde as she submitted utterly to her white-hot passion and the stinging pleasure of her Mistress’s whip.

  Appalled and yet horribly fascinated by Belinda’s torment, it was not long before Arabella, too, suffered the same cruel fate. As her belly exploded in coruscating spasms and hot gouts of love juices sprayed over the chain buried in her sex, she almost welcomed the stripes that burned across her thighs and buttocks for the heightened sensations they forced upon her. She hurtled into a climax of immense power and depth, no longer able to care that her frenzied responses to both her sexual rapture and her punishment marked her as a fiercely hot and, ultimately, willingly submissive slave.

  To Ranee, though, the intensity of both women’s surrenders was clear evidence of the slave fires which burned within them. As she watched, her dark eyes gleamed with the knowledge of her success, knowing, as they did not, that their training was almost complete, and that two new slaves had been set firmly on the one-way path that would lead them to complete and permanent subjugation. She had taken them as far along that path as she could on her own and recognised that the final stages of their training would require the assistance of some of Razak’s warriors.

  Female slaves existed solely to please men, and the best place for a slave to learn her duties was at the feet or in the bed of a Master, working hard to be fully satisfactory, with the ever-present threat of his whip hanging over her and spurring her on. Only then would the two Englishwomen truly understand the extent of their slavery and as they were forced to serve any Master who chose to use them, their bodies nothing more than the source of his pleasure and their absolute submission demanded and enforced without mercy, Ranee’s task would be done.

  Razak would be well pleased with her, she knew, for such slaves, white, English slaves, were extremely rare and thus highly prized, either to sell or to keep, and she was sure he would reward her for her efforts. What form her reward would take, she did not know, but her thoughts were a warm glow in her belly, for Razak was a dominant Master and knew well how to reward a pleasing slave.

  Tingling with delicious anticipation of pleasure to come, she ordered the slaves to sit back on their heels and changed their bondage, clipping their wrists separately to their ankle cuffs so that they could not rise from their knees, but their thighs could still be spread.

  “Legs apart,” she commanded; and, as the women obeyed and the chains bisecting their labia slid through the slick wetness of their exposed sexes, neither Arabella nor Belinda could hide the trembling of their softly rounded bellies or the shameful need in their eyes as slave heat re-ignited deep inside them.

  Ranee chuckled coldly as she saw their helpless responses and tapped her switch menacingly into the palm of her left hand. “I have trained you as slaves,” she told them. “It is clear to me that you are ready to begin learning to please Masters. You will start by learning how to use your lips and tongue and mouth to bring a Master pleasure. You,” she snapped, pointing at Arabella, “open your mouth.”

  Arabella froze, staring numbly up at the tall girl, her brain reeling as she understood what she was expected to do, then she reacted in sheer, blind panic. “No.o.o!” she squealed. “For pity’s sake, no. I can’t. I won’t. It’s….It’s unthinkable….!”

  The switch hissed through the air, slicing across Arabella’s thighs and then her buttocks as she wrenched madly at her bonds, screaming in pain and horror as she was taught that nothing…nothing at all, no matter how humiliating…was unthinkable for a slave in the power of a Master.

  “Open your mouth,” Ranee demanded again, pausing for a moment in her punishment of Arabella; and, as the sobbing brunette shuddered to the icy determination she recognised in her tormentor’s voice, her soft lips parted and she surrendered to the merciless dominant, great hot tears rolling down her cheeks as she was forced to obey.

  Scarlet with embarrassment, she followed Ranee’s precise instructions, pressing her lips against her hand, kissing delicately at the girl’s slender fingers and, finally, taking three stiff fingers into her mouth to suck and lick them, her eyes wide with the shame of knowing what they represented.

  “Huh. Pathetic!” Ranee snorted, drying her fingers on Arabella’s hair at last. “If that’s the best you can do, slave, you will definitely be whipped. Masters demand much more; and, if you have any sense, you will try far harder than that because they will not be as patient or as forgiving as I am.”

  Arabella shuddered, suspecting that was true, even though Ranee was far from being either patient or forgiving, but as
she visualised herself being made to pleasure a Master in such a deeply shameful way, the brunette could not help but wonder how it would feel and whether she would be able..or permitted..to control the guilty excitement that she felt at the shocking prospect? If she couldn’t, what did that show about her? How could she face her husband after submitting to such a dreadful humiliation? Might it mean that she was irredeemably lost…a hot, randy sex-slut…never again to be able to conceal the helpless passion that seethed in her belly? Filled with the guilt and misery of her shameful thoughts, Arabella waged a bitter battle with despair; and, as she fought, Ranee imposed her will on Belinda.

  Although neither of the other women knew it…Belinda had not dared reveal what Razak had forced her to do...the small blonde was acutely aware of what a Master could demand from a slave; and, as Ranee ordered her to kiss and lick and suck her fingers, she obeyed with a skill that surprised the Indian girl.

  “Very good, slave. Excellent, in fact. You serve almost as well as a trained slave. The Masters will be pleased with you, I think.”

  Belinda blushed and lowered her eyes submissively, conscious of Arabella watching her. The brunette’s own misery was replaced by a feeling of…could it be…envy…of the smaller slave’s performance and the congratulations she had received?

  Ranee straightened. “You now know what is required of you,” she said briskly. “I will fetch Masters to test how well you have learned.” And with that, she strode away.

  When she disappeared into the camp, Arabella gave a low groan and whispered, “Belinda, what are we going to do? I can’t pl..please a M..Master like that. I just can’t.”

  Belinda took a deep breath. “I know it’s awful, Arabella,” she replied softly, “but we don’t have any choice. Really, we don’t. If we try to refuse or disobey them, we’ll be whipped, you know we will. We have to please them and…and it won’t be as bad as you think. I promise you it won’t.”