Sisters in Slavery Page 8

  Three simple words, but they changed everything! For the instant the words tumbled from her lips, Maxine was no longer a free woman!

  It did not matter why she had submitted, or even under what duress. It only mattered that she had and as Maxine heard Shimatsu’s soft chuckle, she knew that she had delivered herself irrevocably into his hands!

  “I accept your submission,” he told her, “you are now a full slave and will obey.”

  He moved behind her and unclipped the snap-lock securing her knees.

  “Spread your legs and sit back on your heels, slave! No, keep your head down!”

  Commanded by her Master, Maxine parted her thighs to the full extent permitted by her still-cuffed ankles and stared down past her swollen breasts to where her pinkly glistening sex lay exposed and frighteningly vulnerable.

  A warning clink of chain came too late and she gulped as her wrists were pulled down and connected to her ankles, arching her body into a smooth curve. She could not move and flushed red as he squatted to examine her in humiliating detail.

  “You are clearly ready to submit, slave,” he observed calmly, “and you will.”

  His hands reached for her and as his long fingers rolled her erect nipples and caressed the exquisitely sensitive flesh of her labia, Maxine strained upwards, offering herself still more helplessly as unbearable arousal crashed through her body.

  “Ohhh! Oh, yes, Master! Yes! I’m your slave! Make me come, Master, make me co-come!”

  Shimatsu slid his fingers into the receptive heat of her palpitating sex, his thumb rubbed firmly at the hard button of her fleshy clitoris, and her eyes opened wide as her arousal zoomed to a still higher level, her body aflame with maddened lust.

  “I submit!” she screamed. “Please, Master, I submit, I submit! Now, Master, please now!” and she stared imploringly at him, begging as a slave to be given a slave’s climax.

  Her belly convulsed in great, racking paroxysms as his fingers speared to the seething core of her need and Maxine gave a wordless shriek as white-hot gouts of love juices erupted deep inside her. Held by her chains, she could not even move as her orgasm broke and her breasts and belly pulsed and juddered erotically as she surrendered to the blazing fury of her submissive passions.

  She moaned in genuine loss and regret as Shimatsu took his hands away, but then he pushed his wet fingers into her mouth, exactly as he had with Soo Lin and without hesitation, Maxine licked his fingers clean of the sticky residue of her climax!

  It was the deliciously submissive act of a true slave and as she savoured the bittersweet tang of her own juices, a thrilling flare of renewed heat rewarded Maxine in her swirling belly.

  “You have real passion in you,” Shimatsu’s comment was perfectly timed, “that is a most desirable quality in a slave.”

  Maxine flushed with pleasure, then realised that he meant that her passion was desirable because it could be used to control her, to reinforce and deepen her submission!

  He smiled coldly, seeing the dismayed understanding in her eyes, “Yes, slave. A most desirable quality. And now, I shall find out whether your sister possesses it.”

  Melissa chewed on the thick leather cylinder between her jaws, her body stiff with tension as she willed Maxine not to submit to Shimatsu. For a wonderful moment, as her sister stared silently up at the tall Oriental, it seemed as though Melissa might get her wish – but then Maxine gasped out her submission!

  Melissa didn’t want to believe it and shut her eyes tightly, trying to blot out the awful memory in the futile hope that if she couldn’t remember it, and then it hadn’t happened! But it had and although Melissa kept her eyes closed, she could not close her ears to Shimatsu’s acceptance of Maxine’s submission or to the sounds of her sister’s obedience as she spread her body and was bound.

  Melissa shuddered in horror and opened her eyes as she heard the desperation in Maxine’s voice as she pleaded to be allowed to come and as she stared at Shimatsu pillaging her wildly aroused twin, Melissa knew that she was looking at her own future.

  Maxine’s screams built to a crescendo and as she was propelled into her orgasm, Melissa wept and trembled, knowing that Shimatsu would soon come for her and that she would be no more able to resist him than Maxine had been. She did not have to wait very long.

  “I have placed a slave collar on your throat,” Shimatsu wasted no time as he pulled the gag from her mouth and unclipped her knee cuffs. “I am your Master and you will submit to me now!”

  Melissa gazed up with frightened eyes, searching for some trace of pity or sympathy in his cruel face.

  “Now!” he demanded brutally and she shuddered, knowing that he would never show her mercy because it was not in his nature.

  “P-Please...” she gasped, “I-I can’t. I’m fr-frightened and I....”

  Shimatsu was in no mood to be thwarted. “Dawnelle,” he called, “throw me your crop.”

  Instantly recognising that he intended to whip her into submission, Melissa gave a breathy squeal and babbled, “No-o! Please, Master, not that, I beg you!” then froze into appalled silence as she realised what she had called him.

  She tried to recover, “That was a-a mistake! I didn’t mean to-to…,” her voice faulted as she raised her head and saw his predatory grin.

  “To call me Master?” he finished the sentence for her. “But I am your Master, slave. And your mistake was to think that I would permit you to defy me. That error, slave, has already earned you a cropping and it will earn you another if you continue to try my patience.”

  He flexed the crop in his long fingers, “I do not care to repeat orders to my slaves,” he said flatly and Melissa knew that she had only one last chance to avert his wrath.

  Trembling like an aspen, Melissa did what she had to do, forcing her thighs wide apart, sitting back on her heels and hollowing her spine until she was able to grasp her ankles in her shaking fingers.

  Shimatsu’s eyes glittered like hot coals as Melissa prostrated herself before him and he licked his thin lips in anticipation as she sucked in a deep, quavering breath.

  Horribly conscious they would be her final words as a free woman, Melissa dropped her eyes from his burning gaze and spoke in low, anguished tones, “I sub-submit myself as your slave, my M-Master and will obey your c-commands.”

  As she made the fateful declaration that would enslave her forever, Melissa’s shoulders shook with emotion, for the example of her sister’s capitulation was vivid in her mind and she knew that her body was forfeit to her dominant Master.

  Without bothering to conceal his intentions, Shimatsu took a second short piece of chain from his pocket and used it to lock Melissa’s wrists and ankles together, securing her in her hopelessly vulnerable position. Then he moved to stand over her and chuckled evilly. “I owe you a cropping, slave and I always pay my debts. Especially when it promises to be so pleasurable!”

  Melissa whimpered, but that was all she could do and the taut skin of her spread thighs fluttered as he raised the crop.

  At the top of his swing, he paused. “You are a slave under discipline,” he cautioned her, “if you even attempt to close your legs, your punishment will double!”

  For ten long seconds, he allowed her to digest the warning and understand that her only protection lay in total obedience, and then brought the crop whistling down!

  Melissa squealed through clenched teeth as the whip seared across the soft flesh of her inner thighs, but dared not allow herself the smallest movement in case her Master carried out his awful threat. Four scarlet lines striped each of her thighs, all radiating their throbbing heat up into her belly and by the time he lowered his crop, the lesson of absolute obedience was ingrained into Melissa’s brain and would never be forgotten.

  “You are lucky, slave,” Shimatsu told her calmly, “had you not been new to your collar, I would have punished you much more severely.”

  Melissa gazed numbly at him, knowing he was perfectly serious, then whispered, “Ye
s, Master. Th-Thank you, Master.”

  He ignored her reply. “You have been disciplined as a slave and now you will submit as one,” he said and his hands descended on her upthrust breasts.

  Melissa shuddered galvanically and opened her mouth to scream as her nipples erected to his skilled manipulation and huge jolts of electrifying excitement ripped through her body, but her Master snapped, “Silence, slave!” and she clamped her lips shut, fighting desperately to obey.

  He tormented her unmercifully, until her stone-hard nipples throbbed under his fingers and she threw her head from side to side in vain efforts to hold back the rolling tide of arousal surging ever more strongly through her body.

  Melissa longed to scream and beg for mercy, but not a word passed her lips and the obedience she was forced to give to her Master, only reinforced her feelings of helpless submission and added fuel to the fires of her need as his hands slid from her quivering breasts and down across the smooth roundness of her heated belly.

  As he stroked the parted lips of her sex, Melissa’s body writhed frantically and she could not hold back the soft moans that accompanied each caress as he trailed his fingers up and down the full length of her swollen love-cleft. Drowning in a spinning whirlpool of intolerable arousal and overwhelming lust, Melissa surrendered utterly to the physical sensations imposed upon her as she was driven far beyond her limits into a timeless limbo where she existed only as an ultimately responsive, ultimately submissive sex-slave! Her whole universe narrowed to the solitary imperative of her orgasm and when her Master’s fingers eventually sank into the oozing channel of her sex, Melissa exploded like a bomb.

  A climax of immense violence and intensity shook her like a doll, her internal muscles sucking his fingers deeper into her body and her massive contractions sending scalding waves of love juices pulsing into the bubbling cauldron of her belly and down into her sex as spasm after spasm rampaged through her. Oblivious to everything but the tumult in her body, Melissa was unaware that her Master beckoned to Siteki and Dawnelle and as the other dominants gazed with hard eyes at her abject submission, chuckled, “This slave is no less hot than her sister. Do whatever you think necessary, but I want them ready to serve me in one month and ready to serve my guests in two. Can you do it, my friends?”

  Siteki bowed, “It will be done, sir,” he confirmed, “you have my word.”

  “Mine, too,” Dawnelle added, “if you will permit me to stay away from my office that long, Izeki?”

  Shimatsu nodded, “I would not think of letting you leave, my dear. Excellent. Then in eight weeks, I shall have the pleasure of offering not one, but three slaves for the use of my guests.”

  As Dawnelle wandered away to look at Maxine, Siteki spoke softly in his native tongue, “If you have no objection, sir, I propose that your guests be offered four slaves, rather than three!”

  Shimatsu smiled, “Oh, I have no objection. None at all!”

  Chapter Five

  For nine consecutive days, Maxine and Melissa were subjected to increasingly rigorous slave training, their bodies and minds becoming conditioned to nudity and the unquestioning obedience demanded of them.

  Each morning, in the tiny cell they shared, Siteki or Dawnelle unlocked the chains, which linked their collars to an iron ring beneath their beds and watched closely as the two slaves went to their knees and displayed their bodies in submission. The slightest hesitation or imperfection in their obedience brought instant retribution from the whips the Masters always carried and both Maxine and Melissa learned fast. The same applied when they were fed, their initial humiliation at finding themselves ordered to their knees and expected to take the food from a Master’s hand, quickly overcome by the twin incentives of hunger and ruthless discipline.

  After breakfast, the day’s training began in earnest as they stretched and arched their bodies into the shamefully sensual poses of the standing, kneeling and prone Display, the Submission and the Punishment positions. Their Masters’ whips flicked and bit at their naked flesh, correcting their errors, enforcing their obedience time and again until they achieved the level of perfection required. And sometimes, even when their sweating bodies ached from their efforts, one or the other, or both, would scream and writhe helplessly as they were bound and whipped for no apparent reason, the punishment undeserved but none the less painful for being unexpected! But the Masters’ discipline was not always so unwelcome, for Maxine and Melissa were being trained to submit as sex-slaves.

  At much more frequent intervals, their displayed bodies became the playthings of their Masters, their breasts and sex the target of merciless arousal, carefully and callously designed to annihilate any vestige of resistance they might still retain and create sexual havoc in their bodies! That it was working, there could be no doubt, for the slaves’ responses grew more and more immediate, more and more intense, their sensitised bodies leaping to the merest touch of a Master’s hand or whip, their enforced passions simmering always just beneath the surface of their smooth flesh, ready to ignite into a frenzy of need! A need which was never fully satisfied and which became Maxine and Melissa’s constant companion as Siteki adamantly refused to take them, despite their increasingly desperate pleas. It was an intensely humiliating and frustrating experience for the two slaves, who knew all too well that he fully intended to have them, but at a time and place of his choosing, not theirs. Only when he decided would they be permitted to serve him fully and the knowledge of his absolute Mastery over them was a thrillingly submissive heat in their bellies!

  Dawnelle, too, was intrigued by Siteki’s restraint, “Why?” she asked him one day. “They’re only slaves. Why not just take them?”

  Siteki chuckled. “Because I do not choose to,” he explained, “like all slaves, especially Westerners, these two need discipline. The wait will reinforce their desire, so that when they are finally allowed to submit, they will submit more completely than they can yet imagine!”

  Dawnelle suppressed an urge to shiver as he spoke and forced herself to smile, “If I didn’t know you better, Ito, I might think you were – well – gay. No offence, but not many men would pass up the chance of having two helpless slaves.”

  Siteki looked at her coldly. “When the time comes,” he replied, “you will see that I am certainly not gay. The slave, who serves me, will submit to the very bottom of her soul!”

  Dawnelle gazed into his black eyes, almost hypnotised by the steely determination she saw there, and then forced her gaze away, “Yes, yes, I see. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “It does not matter,” he replied stiffly and strode to where Maxine knelt in Punishment position, her forehead pressed to the floor and her fingers clasped behind her neck.

  He raised his crop and sent it searing down across Maxine’s buttocks and she squealed in anguish, unaware that her punishment was the result of his fury at Dawnelle and that, in his mind; it was the redhead who screamed in pain at his feet, rather than her.

  For a moment, Dawnelle cursed herself for, yet again, annoying the stocky Oriental. Somehow, she always seemed to be unable to stop herself taunting him, even when she didn’t mean to. She knew she ought to try to be nicer to him, if only to keep the peace between them, but she thought his cold, black eyes and heavily muscled body abhorrent. If it hadn’t been for that, she thought she might even have slept with him, to make up for her teasing, but the idea of allowing him to paw her full breasts and plant his seed in her belly made her shudder.

  Several years before, Dawnelle had had male lovers, but as she had become more successful and powerful, she found that the men she met either wanted her for her money, or saw her as some sort of threat; a challenge to their male-dominated, executive world. After a particularly bitter experience with the Chief Executive of one of the Companies she worked for, an experience that saw the entire all-male Board, including her lover, unite to force her out, Dawnelle turned to other women, first as her lovers and, finally as her slaves. It was then, as a domi
nant Mistress, that she bought her first crop and used it, finding a satisfaction that her relationships with men had never brought her. Even though, something she would never admit to anyone else, she still wondered sometimes whether a relationship with a man – the right man – would have been even better. But the right man had never come along and she did not intend to settle for Siteki.

  She shrugged, dismissing his annoyance from her mind. After all, she was Shimatsu’s guest, not Siteki’s, so what did it matter if he didn’t like her?

  She moved to where Melissa knelt and drew her crop from her belt. There was a slave to be disciplined and Dawnelle saw no reason why Melissa should escape scot-free while her sister’s bottom was reddened.

  At no time were either Maxine or Melissa permitted the luxuries of either modesty or choice and as the hours and days passed, with no relaxation of their stringent training regime, the blondes descended inexorably into total slavery and subjugation.

  Until, on the afternoon of the ninth day, events took a shocking twist…

  Melissa had no inkling of what was to come as her wrists were cuffed behind her back, a gag was inserted between her jaws and she was taken to a room she had not seen before. Quite small, the room’s left wall was one huge, floor-to-ceiling mirror, while the right was festooned with broad, black leather straps.

  She stared at the straps as her wrists were released and her belly shivered with fright and arousal as she was ordered to stand with her back to the wall and spread her arms and legs. In position, she saw her own reflection and gasped. Every detail of her body was perfectly mirrored and she saw herself as the Masters saw her: desirable, available, vulnerable and, clear from her soft, blue eyes, helplessly submissive!

  Her nipples quivered as she saw a naked, gagged slave staring back at her and as Siteki buckled the first tight strap about her waist, the slave in the mirror trembled to the flaring heat in her belly. In quick succession, leather clamped her wrists and elbows, ankles and knees, her thighs, above and below her breasts, her neck and, finally, her forehead, holding her in immobility so complete that she could move nothing except her fingers, toes and eyes. Then, even the reflection of her own static body was taken from her as a blindfold descended!