The blonde smiled happily, mistaking Gemma's stunned silence fro agreement, "There now," she said, "Now you understand why you're a slavegirl. That's much better, isn't it?"
A thousand protests rose to Gemma's mind, but even as they hovered on her lips, she realised that they would all be just a waste of breath. The sheer conceit and arrogance of views such as the blonde held was simply breathtaking, assuming as they did that some were destined to be Masters and others destined to be slaves! Not only that, but that slaves were slaves because they were too weak to be Masters!
Gemma couldn't, wouldn't, subscribe to that theory, not ever! It was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong....but, unfortunately for Gemma, her wrists were locked in the steel cuffs of a man who did believe exactly that and she was locked in his cellars and at the mercy of a group of men and women who believed as he did! Which meant that as long as they held those beliefs, and the keys to her bonds, Gemma was going to remain just as she was... a helpless captive, subject to whatever awful desires and torments their fertile minds could dream up for her! For a whole year, until the contract delivering her into their clutches ran its course!
These frightening thoughts and their horrifying ramifications raced through Gemma's brain in seconds and she gaped in speechless horror at her smiling Mistress as the blonde waited for her to agree that knowing why Gemma had been enslaved, made everything all right!
"No! No, you're insane! Crazy! You can't keep me like this! You can't!"
"What's that? Can't keep you? Of course we can keep you. What's going on Alicia?" Roxwell's affronted tone came from behind Gemma and she whirled around to see him standing by the door. The open door!
"I do believe our little slavegirl if having second thoughts about...Quick! Grab her!"
Gemma made a break for the open door, pursued by the blonde's warning shout and the two glasses Roxwell had been carrying fell to the floor and shattered as he made an ineffectual attempt to stop her, his hands slipping from her sweaty, slippery body.
Out in the long featureless corridor, Gemma ran as fast as she could, her cuffed wrists bouncing against her buttocks as she tried to distance herself from the pursuit that was bound to follow. She raced into the lobby where the lift was and gave a cry of elation as she saw that its doors stood invitingly open. She charged inside and then realised that with her hands firmly cuffed behind her back, she couldn't reach the control buttons! Dismayed, Gemma twisted and turned in frenzied efforts to get her fingers to the buttons, her desperation redoubling as she heard footsteps coming down the corridor towards her. Frantic to get away, she bent over, her head down by her knees and her fingers scrabbling wildly at the control panel and gave an inarticulate cry of relief as the top button lit up!
The doors did not shut!
Gemma couldn't believe it. The button was pressed, the button lit up, but the lift didn't move!
Stunned, she stood frozen in incomprehension as the doorway filled with the figures of Roxwell and her Mistress.
"It didn't work." Gemma explained feebly, "I pressed the button, but it didn't move," and her face crumpled with disappointment.
Her Masters smiled and Roxwell reached into his pocket and produced a small silver key, "That's right, slavegirl," he confirmed, "Without one of these, it won't. You didn't really think it would be that simple, did you?"
Gemma shook her head despairingly, "I didn't know...I didn't think..." she mumbled bitterly, then raised her eyes to stare in horror at her Mistress as the woman said, "No, you didn't did you, slavegirl. And now, you are going to have to pay for your error!"
Gemma's mouth opened, then closed as the blonde snapped, "Not a word, slavegirl. Not one, or the punishment you have already earned yourself will increase! Come on. Out of there."
As she stumbled out of the lift, Gemma's eyes filled with an awful dread and her stomach began to churn as the enormity of what she had done hit home. She had tried to escape and failed and knew she was in the most terrible trouble!
Roxwell seized her elbows in a painful grip and Gemma winced not daring to protest as she was marched back along the corridor she had run down with such high hopes only minutes earlier. Her Mistress flung open a door and Roxwell pushed her into a room Gemma had not seen before. Smaller than her own cell, it was completely bare....except for a heavy chain dangling from a pulley in the centre of the ceiling, its other end made fast to an iron cleat bolted to the wall!
"Stand still, slave. Feet together," Roxwell's tone brooked no argument and Gemma's fears intensified as her ankles were clipped together. Deprived of her ability to move, she stood passively as her wrist cuffs were released, her arms brought together in front of her body and the cuffs refastened.
"Open your mouth," her Mistress stood in front of her, a thick cylinder of leather on a broad strap in her hands.
Gemma gulped, her eyes fixed pleadingly on the blonde's face, then slowly allowed her lips to part as she read the steely determination in her captor's face.
The gag sank deep into Gemma's mouth, then deeper still as she was forced to encompass the whole massive length and girth and she swayed on her bound feet and would have fallen, but for Roxwell's steadying arms as her Mistress tugged the buckling strap cruelly tight.
Her face covered from nose to chin by the strap and with her cheeks bulging from the thick cylinder, Gemma could barely whimper, let alone speak and panted for breath through her nose as she was silenced.
The blonde nodded in satisfaction, then reached up and pulled the dangling chain down to Gemma's wrists and clipped it firmly to her cuffs, before standing back with a cruel smile playing about her lips.
Roxwell released his grip on Gemma and moved to the iron cleat, freeing the chain and then tugging on it and as he tugged, the chain rattled through the pulley high above Gemma and her arms began to rise. Gemma would have like to have fought, but was sensible enough to realise that she could not possibly win. She was bound at hand and foot, alone against two of them and Roxwell was far stronger. Any resistance she could put up would be completely futile and would probably get her punished. Or so Gemma reasoned.
Her arms rose past her breasts, then past her shoulders, then higher still and Gemma forgot all about her reasoning as the pull continued and her arms stretched high above her head. Her eyes sought frantically for some way to escape and muffled squeals of panic leaked past her gag, but by then it was much too late and her fingers clawed at the chain as she was forced to rise onto the balls of her feet, her body drawn up to its full extent, every muscle tense and even her head trapped between her upraised arms!
She couldn't move an inch and her eyes bulged with a terrible knowledge as her two Masters moved to stand in front of her and flexed their riding crops before her gag-distorted face.
"You have been a very silly slavegirl," her Mistress's eyes glittered with excitement as she chided the helpless brunette, "And silly little slaves get themselves punished."
"Indeed they do," Roxwell agreed cheerfully, "As you are about to find out. You have been disobedient and for that, you will receive six strokes of the crop. For attempting to escape, six more. Plus six more for each of the glasses you caused me to drop. And a final six for failing to remain silent while you were being caressed by your Masters. A total of thirty strokes, slavegirl," he paused and gazed hard into Gemma's terrified face, "Think yourself lucky slave," he hissed, "Had you not been a new and untrained slave, your punishment would have been much more severe."
Gemma trembled wildly, the smooth flesh of her belly and breasts fluttering as she heard the sentence of her Masters and she squealed muffled pleas into her gag, begging for mercy, promising never to disobey again, to be the slave they wished her to be, anything they desired if only they didn't whip her.
It made absolutely no impression on the two dominants and tears poured down Gemma's face as they took up their positions, Roxwell behind and her Mistress in front.
The swish of Roxwell's crop gave Gemma a fraction of a second's warning, but not nearly enough for her to prepare herself and as the first of many stinging red stripes blazed its way across her tensioned buttocks, she screamed into her gag, her bottom erupting with heat. Immediately, her Mistress placed a shrewd cut across the tops of Gemma's thighs and the helpless girl shrieked in torment, her flesh blooming a vivid scarlet. Stretched by her bonds and quite unable to avoid the searing cuts of her Master's crops, Gemma screamed and wept as a mesh of reddened lines painted her thighs and buttocks. Again and again she begged for mercy and to be permitted to submit as their slave, certain that she could take no more of their merciless punishment...and time and again found that she was wrong! Not only could she take more, but she had to, for her Masters had no intention of allowing her to avoid what they considered her just deserts.
Thirty strokes she had earned and thirty strokes her flinching, burning, striped body received!
Long before the final stroke landed, the lesson had been well and truly learned by Gemma and she understood all too clearly the rules by which she was to be forced to live and the penalties that disobedience would bring down on her.
She hung sobbing in her bonds as her Masters lowered their crops for the final time and walked from the room, leaving her to reflect on her errors as the pain of her punishment gradually subsided to a dull throbbing and her tears dried on her face. Still stretched in her bondage, she could not even rub her smarting flesh and her very helplessness reinforced the lesson that she had no choice but to submit. She had made her gesture of defiance and it had led her to this. No way would she ever dare repeat the experiment.
Hours later, when her Masters returned to release her from her bondage, Gemma fell to the floor, her limbs and joints racked with aches and the tingling of returning circulation, then forced her stiff body to rise as she was cuffed and taken back to her own cell. Exhausted, she fell on the bed and went out like a light, too tired even to examine the fading pink stripes that patterned her buttocks and thighs like latticework.
"You just don't learn, do you slavegirl. That's the third stripe you've earned yourself today for trying to evade a Master's touch."
Gemma's training was continuing apace, the task made much easier for her Masters by Gemma's vivid recollection of her punishment of the previous day. Even with that in her mind, Gemma was still having trouble holding position when one of her Masters caressed her breasts or sex and even though they realised her problem, she still received a crop each time she moved. Three so far that day!
"We'll try that again, slavegirl and this time, don't move! We are beginning to lose patience with you..."
The implied threat sent a shiver through Gemma's displayed body and she steeled herself for the touch of the blonde's fingers, acutely aware that Roxwell and his crop hovered just behind her, ready to strike if she failed again.
A soft palm cupped her right breast and cool fingers twirled the nipple, sending delicious tremors racing through her posed nudity and Gemma juddered involuntarily but managed to force herself not to pull back.
"Better," the woman commented, "Now we will try a little more," and Gemma gasped as both her nipples were captured.
"Very good, slavegirl. No, keep quite still," and Gemma bit her lip, trying desperately to control the arousal spreading outwards from her hardening nipples...and failing! Slow coils of warmth circled in her belly as the arousal continued and a soft whimper came from her throat as her breasts swelled to the gentle stimulation.
"Excellent. That will do for now," and Gemma trembled with frustration as the hands were taken from her body.
Dammit, she thought to herself, it wasn't fair to turn her on like that and not finish the job! Then her face flushed as she realised the implications of her thoughts. Just a few days before she would have been horrified at the idea of a woman, a stranger, caressing her breasts, but now she was angry because she hadn't been made to climax! It was a salutary demonstration of the effectiveness of the training she was being given and she gulped to the realisation that she was becoming the slavegirl she had vowed never to be. The trouble was that she was starting to like it! Not the strict discipline and the punishment, of course, but the frequent stimulation and the increasing responsiveness of her body. Even, though she would never admit it, the bondage and the helplessness it imposed upon her. Tied up and defenceless, she had no control and couldn't be blamed even by herself, if she got carried away by the strength of the passions she was forced to display.
"Kneel up straight, slavegirl. I want to cuff your ankles."
Obediently, Gemma straightened and brought her feet together and felt her ankles clipped side by side.
"Squat on your heels, knees spread. Good."
Her arms were pulled out behind her and attached to her ankle cuffs, securing her and angling her backwards so that she got an unrestricted view of her own breasts and the wide "V" of her thighs, topped with her curly bush of dark pubic hair.
"Open your mouth."
Expecting a normal leather gag, she was taken by surprise when a ring of steel was pressed between her jaws and wedged behind her teeth, its thin strap stretching the corners of her mouth. It held her mouth wide open and though she shook her head, she couldn't dislodge it or close her jaws.