His grip tightened on her breasts and her eyes grew wide and round as she felt him swell within her, but she was powerless to resist as he began a long, smooth pumping action of his hips, his masculinity penetrating her deeply, then drawing back only to drive into her once more, every powerful thrust bringing a gasp of fearful, growing desire from her.
He was neither as large nor as dominant as her other Master, but the feel of his shaft pistoning into her belly, coupled with the arousal of his hands at her breasts, was more than enough to catapult Gemma into an inferno of lust, her fingers clawing at the empty air, her belly seething like a volcano as she came and came in a continuous climax, spasming and shuddering wildly as his lunges built to a straining peak and his juices shot deep into her roiling belly!
Sagging limply in her bonds, exhausted and devastated by the shattering power of her multiple orgasms, Gemma had no breath left even to whimper as her ankles were untied and she was lowered to the floor, there to collapse in a boneless huddle as she was permitted to recover some semblance of control over her sweat streaked and sex stained body.
It was an immense relief to have her arms untied and, after the first few minutes of acute discomfort as circulation returned and stressed muscles protested, to be able to move normally again and Gemma was duly grateful, forcing her aching body to kneel in the approved position.
Her Masters were very pleased, "Excellent, slave," they congratulated her, "You have done well. Come with us," and they walked slowly to the door, giving Gemma time to rise to her feet and follow.
Subdued and very tired, Gemma stumbled on aching legs to a second room nearby and sank onto a soft single bed as her Masters told her to rest.
"Get some sleep, slave. We shall feed you in the morning and then you can bathe and wash your hair. After all , you will want to be looking at your best for your audience, won't you?"
Gemma's brow wrinkled as her Masters chuckled, but she was very tired and in any case, still wore her gag, so couldn't ask what they meant.
Deciding that she would find out soon enough and that knowing bad news wasn't going to help her, Gemma lay down obediently and stared up at her smiling Masters as they bid her a good night and turned to the door.
"Oh, by the way, as you have not attempted to take it out without our permission, you may now remove your gag, if you wish," and her dark haired Master grinned knowingly as Gemma blushed and nodded her thanks.
The door clicked closed and the rattle of bolts told Gemma that there was no point looking for escape in that quarter. She reached behind her neck and unbuckled the gag strap as quickly as she could, yanking the sodden leather from her mouth and hurling it across the room, then working her stiffened jaws "Yeuch! Horrible damned thing!" she complained, then gazed around her prison.
It didn't take very long for her to realise that the only exit was the door through which she had entered the room and she already knew that was bolted.
Gemma gave a heavy sigh, then lay down again, "I wonder what audience they were talking about," she mused to herself, "I bet it'll be just awful and humiliating, whatever it is. And I'll probably be all tied up and helpless, too. These guys are rope mad!" and she looked in dismay at the imprint of her tight bondage on her wrists and ankles and limbs, shaking her head in disbelief.
Her brown eyes filled with tears as she looked up, "Oh, Mike," she cried miserably, "How could you do this to me?" but there was no answer and she threw herself over onto her belly, her slim shoulders shaking with sobs as she wept into her pillow.
CHAPTER 8
The low hum of animated conversation in the large, elegant and beautifully furnished lounge died away to a tense, expectant silence as the double doors swung open and Gemma's Masters strode in. a long wooden pole slung from their shoulders.
Bound to it by a continuous length of black rope spiralling around her body from her pointed toes to the tips of her outstretched fingers, Gemma's naked body gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows, her steel collar and cuffs glittering and the broad black leather gag strap contrasting dramatically with her pale flesh to create an intensely erotic image.
In the dead silence that greeted her arrival, Gemma's bearers carried her over to a pair of black iron chains suspended from the high ceiling and terminating in large rings some eight or nine feet apart and six feet above the carpet. Lifting her, they slotted each end of the pole through one of the rings and stood back, leaving her hanging belly down....
As promised, Gemma's day had begun with a delicious breakfast, wolfed down in minutes by the ravenous brunette as she knelt between the chairs of her Masters in their spacious dining room. Emboldened by the unusual freedom of being neither bound nor fed from their hands, Gemma had taken a deep breath, lifted her head from her empty plate and humbly requested to be allowed to speak.
"You may, slave," her Masters had replied jovially, "What is it you wish to say?"
"May I know your names, Masters?" she had asked, "I know I must always call you Master, but it would make it...easier...for me if I knew who had...enslaved me," and her voice tailed off as she admitted her lowly status.
"So you accept your enslavement then, slave?"
Gemma had thought long and hard about that very question during the previous night and had come to the inescapable conclusion that she had no choice in the matter and that, having no choice, she would just have to be the slave that they required her to be.
"Yes, my Masters," she had replied slowly and felt her groin moisten as she committed herself.
"Good. Then in answer to your question, slave, I am Master Axel and my companion is Master Nicos." It was the giant who spoke and Gemma looked up, thinking to herself how well his strong, uncompromising name fitted his character.
She turned to her other Master, Nicos, "Are you French, my Master?" she had asked curiously.
The dark haired man had chuckled, "No, slave. What makes you ask that?"
"Well...I don't know really. You look, sort of, French...and your accent..." it had sounded lame to Gemma even as she said it, but he hadn't seemed bothered.
"I am from Cyprus," he had told her and then her other Master had cut in.
"Where all the shipping tycoons come from, eh, Nicos? Onassis, Niarchos and you."
"Ah, but sadly no longer, my friend. As you know, I am retired and simply while away my days with my little yacht."
The big man had snorted, "Hah! Little yacht, my foot. I don't call a hundred and ninety feet, little!"
"Well, perhaps not," Nicos had agreed equably, "It certainly has enough room for my friends..." he had paused and allowed his dark eyes to scan Gemma's body, "And a slave!"
Gemma had gulped, lowering her head submissively and feeling her belly surge with slow heat as she whispered, "Yes, my Master," and the heat had increased as she had looked up in time to see him nod decisively.
Fighting to supress a sudden urge to beg the two men to take her, Gemma had opened her mouth to ask what they had meant by their veiled reference to her wanting to look her best for her audience, but she was too late.
"Enough, slave. No more questions!" Axel had snapped and her question had died on her lips, keeping her in ignorance of their plans.
Ordered to her feet, she had followed them to a luxurious bathroom where she was left alone to bathe and wash her hair. Alone, but secure, for, just as at Roxwell's house, a hinged tile had been lifted to reveal a long chain welded to a steel ring and the chain had been locked to her collar.
Resigned to her continuing captivity, Gemma had shrugged and made the best of it, relaxing in a deep, hot bath, washing her hair three times and brushing it dry in front of the full length mirror, then waiting patiently for her Masters to return.
She felt wonderful and had known she looked good. When the two men came back, she had gone to her knees and presented her body, flushing with pleasure as they had told her that she made a lovely slave.
Given a lift by their compliments, Gemma had walked back to her cell, aware at every step of their eyes on her swaying buttocks and slim legs, wondering and even hoping, that they might want to take her.
The ten foot wooden pole fixed vertically in the centre of her cell, a square wooden box at its foot, had come as an unwelcome surprise and Gemma had eyed it with more than a little trepidation as her Masters had explained its purpose, their evident enthusiasm doing little to allay her concern. Her bondage, they had assured her, would be both elegant and graceful, displaying her beautifully. She would love it, they had said, but Gemma was not quite so convinced.
She had no doubt at all that her body would be displayed, but knew from experience that her Master's bondage was invariably tight, uncomfortable...and escape proof.
"Go over to the pole, slave, stand on the box, feet together and your arms above your head," the voice had left no room for negotiation and Gemma did as she was bid, a shiver running up her spine as her back met the cool, hard wood.
Working carefully and methodically, her two Masters had then lashed her ankles together to the post and begun to spiral the black rope up her calves and thighs, pulling each loop tight as they went and clamping the wood to her flesh. As she was bound and the rope squeezed her belly and waist in a firm, unyielding embrace, Gemma had gasped as her arousal flared, savouring the steadily increasing helplessness being imposed on her as she was turned into the bondage slave that her Masters desired and which she, too, wished to be.
She did not even consider resisting. It would have been useless and, in any case, as she had at last come to realise, she liked the restriction her bonds enforced on her and the delicious heat which was the inevitable accompaniment of her submission.
The ropes had spiralled higher, below and above her breasts, at her shoulders, her neck and higher still to compress her arms and then to bind her wrists, her arousal building higher as her freedom was taken from her.
Her nostrils flared as the rope had then spiralled downwards, doubling her bondage and she had moaned in submissive pleasure as her breasts, already swollen with need, had thrust even more prominently as the tight black rope lifted and proffered her for her Masters' touch. Across her belly and down her legs, the rope had criss crossed her smooth skin, restraining her ever more thoroughly until she had been unable to do more than flutter her toes and fingers, her arousal burning like a bright flame within her to the thrilling knowledge that she was entirely helpless.
Her mouth had opened willingly as a gag was brought to her lips and she had panted for breath as the leather cylinder sank between her jaws and its strap had been buckled around the post behind her, forcing her head erect between her upraised arms.
It had been a wonderful moment for Gemma as her Masters tied the last knot and stood back to survey her, their eyes gleaming with pleasure as she had strained against her bonds to prove to them how securely fixed she was, her submissive delight shining in her eyes as their skilfully tied ropes loosened not a fraction.
"Quite superb, slave," they had told her, "Far too inviting to resist," and Gemma had whimpered into her gag, her belly churning with lust as their lips had fastened on her breasts, surrounding her nipples with warm, wet heat as they had feasted on her defenceless flesh.
The arousal had been intense, but too short lived from Gemma's point of view and her eyes had pleaded eloquently but in vain as her Masters took their lips from her.
"One hour, slave," they had told her, "Then we shall return for you," and they had left her!
True to their word, an hour had gone by. An hour in which Gemma had failed to free herself and during which her arousal burned undiminished.
When they had come for her, her eyes had smiled a welcome, but they had had no time for her needs and she had gaped in astonishment as they had released the pole from its fixings and lifted it, and her, onto their shoulders, her body suspended face down in its mesh of black rope!
Taken from the room, her gasps of fear lost in her gag, she had trembled as she was carried through the house to a pair of high double doors.
Her Master, Axel, had thrown the doors wide and her terror had overwhelmed her as she was carried into a huge, sunlit room and she had seen a sea of faces staring at her!
Paralysed by the terrible shock, Gemma had not even been able to scream as she was carried across the room to a pair of chains hanging from the ceiling and the ends of her pole slotted into place to leave her suspended....
"Ladies and gentlemen of The Consortium, I give you Gemma, your slave!" Axel's voice cut through the silence in the lounge and was immediately followed by a storm of clapping and shouts of "Bravo!" and "Well said" and, "Fine job, Axel."
The hubbub broke Gemma's trance like state and her gag muffled screams and the frantic tensing of her muscles focused all eyes upon her, most smiling at her futile struggles, but some frowning at what they clearly considered to be her unseemly behaviour.
Gemma's terrified brown eyes raced from one face to the next, recognising Roxwell, the blonde, Alicia, her current Masters and one or two others from the day of her auction, but others she did not recognise at all and her blood ran cold as she realised that all of them were members of The Consortium which had bought her as a slave and all had part ownership of her!