Sisters in Slavery Read online

  Deep in her roiling belly, a tremendous orgasm welled upward and as it exploded unstoppably into her body. Maxine arched, her bonds marking her straining flesh as she screamed a delirious welcome to the towering waves of love juices that crashed, and surged and boiled into her belly and sex as she pulsed and juddered in her first, shattering climax as a slave! Her eyes opened wide in rapturous delight and her fingers clawed at the empty air as Maxine learned what a slave’s climax could be and her belly spasmed and burned with the power of her release but then she began to understand what such intensity of passion revealed about her and a tremble of sudden fear raced up her spine. She had climaxed as a slave, far more strongly and deeply than she would have believed possible, even more deeply than when she had been taken by Morrison and Crespi but this time, she had not been taken, or even been touched by anything but the leather crop!

  Her mind quailed as she tried to imagine how she would have been forced to respond if it had been a man’s hands or lips on her body and she whimpered in horror, realising far too late, that her body held reserves of passion she had never even begun to consider. As a slave, particularly in bondage, those reserves could be – no, would be – explored and used by her captors. In the process, giving them great pleasure and enslaving Maxine ever more helplessly to their will!

  She whimpered in alarm, realising that she had betrayed herself and looked anxiously towards Dawnelle, praying that the cruel redhead had not realised the extent of her success in forcing Maxine to display such shamefully submissive tendencies. The cat-like grin on Dawnelle’s face sent Maxine’s spirits plunging. Dawnelle clearly knew exactly how successful she had been and her words confirmed it. “So, slave,” she said spitefully, “now we both know what a randy little slut you are. I knew you were weak, but even I thought you’d put up a better fight than that! You deserve to be a slave and I’m going to make quite sure that Shimatsu knows how hot you are and how easy it is to make you submit. You even climaxed to my little crop, you stupid bitch. Slaves usually have to be trained and conditioned to do that, but not you. Oh, no. You were born to be a slave and now you are! And that, my sweet Maxine, gives me a great deal of pleasure. But not as much as seeing you in chains, kneeling at my feet and begging to be allowed to please my will!” With that, Dawnelle turned away and settled back in her chair, lighting a cigarette and ignoring both of her captives.

  Maxine’s eyes filled with hot tears of despair and humiliation, the pleasure of her climax forgotten in the miserable knowledge that Dawnelle was right. Maxine knew she had been weak and had submitted, but what else could she have done? Now, she was going to be made to suffer for something she couldn’t help. And Dawnelle would be there, to watch and sneer.

  Spreadeagled to the opposite wall, Melissa watched sympathetically as the tears trickled down her sister’s face. It was all she could do, for she, too, was as tightly bound as Maxine and her body bore almost as many smarting stripes, although she had, to her relief, been slightly less harshly treated than her twin had. Her breasts and sex, though, had received just as much attention and more than once, Melissa had trembled on the brink of orgasm, her body needing only the smallest of nudges to send her spinning into climax. That she had not, so far, done so, was merely her good fortune rather than any strength of character on her part and she knew that if Dawnelle had chosen to force her to surrender completely, as Maxine had been forced, then she could not have resisted any more effectively.

  The sheer power of Maxine’s climax when it eventually came shocked and frightened Melissa, for she knew it could easily have been her and as Maxine screamed and shuddered in surrender, the younger blonde knew that her own enforced submission to slavery could not be long delayed.

  In less than half a day, Dawnelle had proven that a female captive, no matter how unwilling, could be converted – at least temporarily – from a free and independent woman, to a helplessly responsive and submissive slave-to-be. However, if that temporary conversion was to be made permanent and reinforced, what then...?

  Melissa did not want to think of that.

  As both disconsolate, aching and almost exhausted prisoners worried over their unenviable future, the barely discernable engines of the jet aircraft, which had transported them across the world, began to spool down towards a landing, bringing moans of anguish and fear from the sisters.

  “Not long now, slaves,” Dawnelle chuckled, “then your new lives will begin.”

  The wheels thumped the tarmac and the engines whined in reverse as the aircraft slowed to a halt, then, minutes later, the three occupants of the container felt a jolt as they were off-loaded. Knowing it might be their very last chance of rescue, Maxine and Melissa whined and screamed as loudly as they could into the gags over their lips, hoping against hope that someone might hear and investigate.

  Dawnelle lashed out with her crop, bringing squeals of pain from both women, then chuckled again. “Don’t waste your breath, slaves,” she snapped, “these containers are virtually soundproof. Why do you think we could hardly hear the engines, eh? Nobody is going to hear you.”

  Once again, she was proved right and as the container came to a halt, the two sisters exchanged glances of growing fear, horrified that their last hope was gone. With a loud rattle of metal bolts, the door of the container was unlocked and thrown wide and as glaring artificial light flooded in, five men walked through the entrance.

  Maxine and Melissa squealed in terrible panic, wrenching madly at their bound limbs as greedy eyes fastened on their spreadeagled nudity, but were powerless to hide their bodies from the five strangers and whimpered in shame and terror as they were forced to endure the men’s scrutiny.

  Dawnelle rose from her chair, smiling, “Mr. Shimatsu. How do you do, sir?”

  Shimatsu, almost as tall as the redhead, thin, with sleek black hair and dressed in an immaculate white suit, bowed to the redhead. “Ah, Dawnelle, my dear,” he said in faultless English. “How delightful to see you again. I trust you had a good trip? Let me introduce you to Ito Siteki, my trusty right hand man and advisor.”

  Dawnelle turned to the second man and it was instantly clear that she did not like what she saw. “Mr. Siteki,” she said coldly, looking down her nose at him.

  “Miss O’Keefe,” he replied, equally coolly.

  Siteki was a complete contrast to his employer, being short, almost square, with immensely broad shoulders denoting massive physical strength and deep-set, glittering black eyes beneath close-cropped black hair.

  “These others are the Captain and crew of my junk,” Shimatsu explained, “they will provide any muscle we may need. Now, if you would introduce me to your, ah, companions?”

  Dawnelle chuckled. “Certainly, Izeki,” she agreed, affecting not to notice Siteki’s start of surprise as she used Shimatsu’s first name, “the slave on the right is Maxine Osborne, the other is her twin sister, Melissa.”

  He moved towards the two girls, ignoring the blushes that rose into their cheeks and their muffled whines of protest as he inspected their proffered bodies. “They are rather attractive,” he said calmly, “better than I expected. You will enjoy training them, Siteki.”

  “I enjoy training any woman,” the muscular Oriental declared flatly, “especially Europeans.”

  Dawnelle frowned. “And why is that?” she enquired stiffly. “What difference is there?”

  Siteki allowed his hard eyes to travel up her tall body and Dawnelle flushed angrily as they lingered on her firm breasts before rising to her face. “You do not know how to please men,” he said simply, then bared his teeth in a mirthless smile, “but you do scream prettily when you are whipped.”

  Dawnelle’s eyes sparkled with fury, suspecting that she was being mocked, but not quite sure enough to counter attack. She smiled tightly, “You enjoy your work, I would imagine?”

  “Indeed I do, Miss O’Keefe.”

  “Hmm, yes, you would. Whipping women in bondage must be very demanding for you.”

  It was
Siteki’s turn to try to conceal his anger as he was mocked and his muscles tensed beneath his shirt as he fought to control himself. “I manage,” he snapped and turned away to where Shimatsu stood.

  Dawnelle allowed herself a brief smile, then joined them.

  For Maxine and Melissa, unable to cover their nudity or even speak, it was already a nightmare and it immediately got worse as Siteki subjected them both to a humiliatingly detailed inspection, even weighing their breasts in his huge hands as they squealed in futile protest. His fingers traced the fading red marks of Dawnelle’s crop. “You seem to enjoy whipping slaves yourself,” he commented and she bridled.

  “I assumed you wouldn’t mind, Izeki,” she appealed to Shimatsu, “after all, they are slaves.”

  “True,” the tall millionaire answered, “they are, however, my slaves and I would have preferred their first whipping to be at my bidding.”

  “Well, you should have said so then,” Dawnelle responded rudely. “How was I supposed to know?”

  “It is of little consequence,” Shimatsu said easily, “I am sure I will have the opportunity with another slave at some point. Just forget about it.”

  Siteki gestured to the three waiting crewmen. “Cut them down,” he ordered, “hogtie them, gag them properly and bring them to the junk,” and he strode out of the container.

  “Come, Dawnelle,” Shimatsu took her arm, “I have champagne waiting aboard my junk. We shall drink a toast to my new slaves, and then you can brief me on how the “Black” file came to be breached.”

  “I can’t understand it,” Dawnelle shook her head, “it shouldn’t have happened.”

  “No,” Shimatsu agreed shortly, “it shouldn’t. I trust you have ideas to stop it happening again, because I do not tolerate failure, as you well know.”

  The redhead licked her lips nervously, “Yes, sir. I know that and I won’t let you down.”

  “Good. Then there is nothing to worry about. Come, let us drink champagne,” and he led her out of the container leaving Maxine and Melissa alone with the sailors.

  The Captain, slim and well muscled, pointed to Melissa and gave an order in his native tongue. One of the sailors took a clasp knife from his pocket and as his mate uncoiled a length of thin nylon rope, sawed through the plastic straps securing Melissa’s ankles. Almost completely numbed by her long confinement, Melissa’s legs could barely support her and she was given no time to recover. The second sailor quickly making four loops of the line around her ankles, cinching the loops with two turns through between her legs, then drawing it all taut before tying a tight, non-slip knot and using his own knife to cut off the remaining rope. When the remaining straps were cut from Melissa’s body, he repeated the process with her arms, securing her wrists behind her, but leaving a two-foot tail of rope dangling.

  Forced to her knees and then to her belly on the floor, Melissa wriggled and whined in protest as her legs were bent up behind her, but the wiry sailors were too strong and easily overpowered her, passing the rope tail through between her ankles and pulling it cruelly taut. The resulting tension forced her feet tight up to her buttocks and dragged her wrists downwards, hollowing her spine into a deep curve until her breasts and thighs barely brushed the floor and she was completely immobilised.

  With the same ruthless efficiency, the two sailors bound Maxine in an identical manner alongside her sister and the slaves exchanged frightened glances as they tested their bondage and discovered, as they had feared, that knots tied by sailors did not loosen no matter how much they strained and tugged.

  The Captain crouched low and stared into their frightened faces as they arched their necks to look up at him, then reached into his pocket and produced two thick leather cylinders attached to buckled leather straps. “I am ordered to gag you with these,” he said slowly, concentrating on his English. “You must be quiet or I will have to punish you.”

  Maxine whimpered and Melissa tried to shake her head, but the Captain had his orders and was unmoved by their evident distress.

  Thankfully, the sweat and tears of their hours in Dawnelle’s clutches had weakened the adhesion of the sticky tape sealing their lips and the sailors were able to unwind and peel the stuff from their cheeks and mouths without too much trouble and discomfort. That, however, was the only thing to be grateful for, because as soon as the tape was removed from Maxine’s lips, the Captain thrust the leather cylinder against her mouth. Foolishly, the blonde clenched her teeth in a bid to prevent herself being gagged. It was a bad mistake and the Captain’s reaction was both instant and painful for her. His free hand dropped to her right nipple and his thumb and forefinger gave a sharp pinch to the tender bud!

  Maxine’s head arched backwards, her mouth opening instinctively in a squeal of pain and shock – and his other hand rammed the gag home! His action was brutally effective, Maxine never had a chance and as he buckled the strap tightly behind her neck, her cheeks bulged and she panted for air through flaring nostrils, her eyes reflecting the helplessness and despair she felt at being so easily defeated.

  He turned to Melissa, “Open your mouth.”

  It was a forlorn hope, but she had to try. “Please?” she asked humbly, her eyes fixed on his, “Please?”

  “Open your mouth. Now!”

  There was nothing more to do and Melissa shivered, allowing her soft lips to part. The gag sank into her mouth, pinning her tongue and she spluttered as it wedged between her back teeth and the buckle drew taut. She was silenced and in her stringent hogtie, as hopelessly vulnerable as Maxine.

  The Captain rose to his feet and barked an order to his men, who immediately bent and rolled the two women onto their sides and then lifted them effortlessly in their arms. Face up and with their naked breasts and bellies fully exposed in a graceful curve to the eyes of the men who carried them, Maxine and Melissa were deliciously tempting targets.

  Without a word, the Captain lowered his lips to Maxine’s proffered left breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth, his tongue and lips working busily. A split second later, the crewman’s mouth surrounded her right breast and Maxine writhed feebly in her bondage as arousal coursed through her quivering torso.

  Following his Captain’s example, Melissa’s carrier sent his lips plunging to her breasts to nuzzle and suck at her nipples, his teeth nipping at her flesh and combining intense arousal with tiny, darting pains.

  As the incessant arousal surged through their hogtied bodies, both slaves squealed into their mouth filling gags but were unable to evade the lips of their captors or prevent the inexorable heat that grew in their bellies. Feasting on the defenceless flesh so delightfully presented before them, the Captain and his crew took full advantage of their good fortune to extract every ounce of pleasure to be had from their helpless captives, delaying for as long as possible the moment when they had to take the women to Shimatsu’s junk. At last, they could wait no longer and took their lips from the shuddering, gasping bodies of the hugely aroused sisters, chuckling among themselves as Maxine and Melissa stared wildly up in a mixture of anguish and frustration.

  “Hot slaves,” the Captain grinned, “maybe we will have more time one day. My crew and I would like that.”

  Maxine moaned, knowing it might happen and horribly aware that the prospect was not as repugnant to her as it surely should have been. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but each time her tightly bound and gagged body was ravaged, it responded more and more helplessly and more and more willingly. Almost as if it wanted to be subjugated and used as a full slave!

  It was awful – and yet – she could not stop it happening. As if… as if, deep down, she wanted it to happen. But she didn’t, she told herself desperately, blue eyes filling with tears, she truly didn’t. Please...

  Unaware of her sister’s grim battle to prevent herself sliding further into slavery, Melissa had her own problems. Somehow, the man carrying her had managed to insinuate one of his fingers between her bottom cheeks and as he followed his Captain
from the container, his digit probed and pressed at the tight ring of her anal passage.

  Clenching her buttocks, Melissa gazed up at the man’s smiling face, feeling herself turning bright red as his finger forced its way past her defences and bored into her body. Her instinctive wriggle only made things worse and she gasped as his exploring finger sent shameful excitement tingling through her belly. It was a very new experience for Melissa and to her embarrassment; she found that she rather liked it. At every step, the man’s finger moved, constantly changing the depth and angle of his penetration of her and the novel sensation of having her bottom filled by a rapidly shifting plug caused her to feel humiliation and delightful arousal in roughly equal measures.

  Outside, stars glittered like diamonds against the night sky and there was just enough light for Melissa to make out the black bulk of a warehouse behind her and two tall masts of a boat moored alongside the jetty.

  Siteki materialised out of the shadows as the sisters were carried up the steep gangplank and onto the deck of Shimatsu’s junk, “Take them below,” he ordered, “Mr. Shimatsu wants to get under way immediately.”

  The two crewmen nodded respectfully and carried Maxine and Melissa down to a small windowless cabin and lay them on the bare wooden floor, then checked to make sure that their bonds had not loosened. Satisfied, they smiled at each other and sent their hands to the sister’s outthrust breasts, rolling and tweaking their already hard nipples as the hogtied blondes gasped in unison and jerked like landed fish to their rough touch.

  The coughing roar of diesel engines starting up ended the brief arousal and the two crewmen hurried out to assist their Captain, locking the cabin behind them.

  Helpless and aroused, Melissa and Maxine stared at each other, their eyes mirroring the despair each felt as the engines settled to a smooth rumble and the junk began to move, carrying them away from their old, safe lives and everything they knew and trusted, towards Shimatsu’s private island. Where their new existence, as trained, submissive bondage slaves would begin!