Gemma examined her emotions as objectively as she could, testing herself to ensure that any decision would not be just the result of her tiredness and the thrilling ordeal she had been made to undergo and warning herself such a decision could not be taken lightly.
Her careful scrutiny made no difference.
Amazed at how calm she felt, Gemma made her irrevocable decision and committed herself.
To slavery and bondage and the joy of submitting to her deepest desires!
CHAPTER 12
Gemma was physically drained after her marathon of arousal in the slave saddle, but her mind was alert and she heard footsteps coming down the corridor towards her locked room well before the bolts slid back and the door opened to reveal her Master.
Steven looked cheerful and well rested, his night clearly far more peaceful than the one Gemma had been made to endure by his ingenious devices.
"Ah, still awake I see," he greeted her, "Good morning, slavegirl and how was your night? Not quite as restful as mine, I suspect, but then that's the diff...." he broke off abruptly as a low pitched buzz interrupted him and Gemma juddered helplessly atop the steel post as vibrations surged through her nude body.
He smiled into her anguished face, then walked casually over to the chair and pressed a button on the control device.
The buzzing vibrator stopped instantly and Gemma slumped in relief....then snapped erect again, her eyes wide and staring as he switched the vibrator on for a moment and then off again.
"Sorry about that, slavegirl. My finger must have accidentally slipped," he said, his broad grin making a lie of his words and Gemma glared at him, knowing full well that the "accident" was no such thing and there could well be other "accidents" if he was in a playful mood!
"Now then," he went on, choosing to ignore her glare, "It's nearly half past eight and your visitor should arrive about ten, so I assume you would like a bite of breakfast? I know I would."
Gemma nodded eagerly, she hadn't eaten for almost twenty four hours and was ravenously hungry.
"OK, one breakfast coming right up," and he was gone, leaving Gemma alone and still bound, but thankful that at least he had turned off the vibrators which had tormented her for so many hours. It would have been even better if he had untied her and lifted her off the saddle, but Gemma was a realist as well as a slavegirl and was grateful for small mercies.
Her mind turned to the coming day as she waited for him to return and she wondered who her visitor might be? Today was the day he had said they had to be away on their travels, but to where? Naturally, he had not confided in a mere slavegirl, so Gemma was reduced to guessing. Assuming her visitor was one of her other Masters, maybe she was going to be taken to their home, but from the way he had said "travels" it sounded more like quite a long journey?
She gave up in disgust. Masters never told their slavegirls anything, so she would just have to wait and see. It was just another of the frustrations of being enslaved. Not that there weren't compensations, she admitted to herself, remembering the previous day and night and her belly filled with a slow, luxurious warmth.
"Breakfast," her Master carried in a tray and her nostrils twitched to the glorious aromas of bacon and coffee as he pulled the chair over to her side and set the tray down. Then he unbuckled her gag and rubbed her stiffened jaws until they could move freely again.
"May I speak, Master?"
"Don't talk, eat," he told her and lifted a forkful of bacon and egg to her lips.
Gemma was used to being fed by hand and did as she was bid, wolfing down every scrap of food she was given and drinking thirstily from the coffee cup he held for her.
"There now, how's that?"
"Much better thank you, Master," Gemma replied gratefully, then added, "Master, may I say something?"
"Well, that depends, slavegirl. What is it? Not a complaint, I trust," and he gave her a hard stare.
"No, Master," she said hurriedly, " I wanted to...to thank you," and she blushed, unaccountably embarrassed.
For a moment he didn't say anything, just looked at her red face, then, "I see. And why do you want to thank me, slavegirl?"
"For...for last night, Master," she stammered, then took a deep breath and hurried on before he could reply, "For last night and...and for giving me the c...courage to be a slavegirl, Master."
He gazed searchingly into her soft brown eyes, then nodded slowly, as if he had found what he was looking for in their shining depths, "Ah," he said, his lips curving into a gentle smile, "Now I understand. My congratulations, slavegirl, on finding your true vocation and daring to accept what you have discovered about yourself."
"Thank you, Master," Gemma replied softly, warmth coiling in her belly to the knowledge that he really did understand the change in her, "I..I know what I am now, my Master and..and I know what I w..want."
"I'm very pleased for you, slavegirl. And when and how did all this happen?"
Gemma gulped, wishing she didn't have to answer but knowing she must, "Last night, Master. When you left me and your vib...vibrators kept...arousing me and making me c..come!"
He chuckled, "Good, it's nice to know that my inventions work. Go on."
"I couldn't help myself, Master," her eyes widened with remembered anguish, "They just went on and on until I nearly went mad!" Gemma sucked in a huge breath as she tried to calm herself, then went on more steadily, "You can't possibly imagine what it was like! I couldn't do a thing! But then...I don't know...something happened and...and I just knew what I wanted..." her voice trailed off into silence and she trembled with the violence of her emotions.
Steven reached out and patted her cheek tenderly and Gemma gave him a tremulous smile, her voice almost breaking as she added, "I knew I was a sl..slavegirl then, M..Master...and..and I still am."
"Yes," he agreed firmly, "By your own admission, that is exactly what you are," and Gemma gave a great gasping shudder as his uncompromising tone warned her that he had no intention of reducing the exacting standards he demanded of her.
"I shall be back in about an hour with your visitor, slavegirl. Be ready," and he gathered up the dirty dishes and strode out of the room without a backward glance, bolting the door behind him.
Gemma's belly lurched with nervous excitement. Had she made a terrible mistake by telling her Master of her decision to accept her enslavement? After all, what more could he demand from her? Hadn't he already taken everything she had to give?
Some time later, Gemma hollowed her spine to present her breasts, determined to greet her Master as the perfect slavegirl she had decided to become as she heard him approaching her room.
Her determination wavered somewhat as she heard a second set of footsteps accompanying his, the distinctive tip-tap of high heels telling her that her visitor was to be female.
Please let it be Mistress Alicia, she thought to herself, not Mistress Lydia, for she was frightened of the dark haired dominant and knew how scathing she would be when she saw Gemma's predicament and learned how she had been forced to submit to the vibrators built into the saddle.
The bolts rattled back and her Master strode into the room, his eyes going immediately to Gemma's displayed body, noting her submissive posture and the nervousness betrayed by the slight, almost unnoticeable tremors of her rounded belly.
"Excellent, slavegirl," he said briefly, "Hold that position and remain silent," then turned as his companion followed him into the room.
Gemma's nostrils flared widely, her eyes almost starting from their sockets as the visitor walked up to Steven's side and linked her arm through his.
It was not Alicia, but nor was it Lydia and Gemma bit her lower lip in anguish.
Her Master's companion was one of the loveliest women Gemma had ever seen, long glistening hair, black as a raven's wing, framing a delicate heart shaped face containing a pair of full red lips, small nose and two eyes of the darkest brown, almost black beneath long curling lashes. Short even in high heels, the top of her sleek head only reaching to Steven's shoulder, her smartly tailored cream linen suit showed off a pair of full breasts Gemma could only envy and long, well shaped legs. She looked like a fashion model dressed in a business suit and Gemma felt sharp pangs of jealous resentment and shame at the contrast with her own nudity and bondage.
To make matters worse, the woman was a total stranger and Gemma was under orders not to move, so couldn't even attempt to cover herself!
"Gemma, let me introduce you to Helen. Helen, this is Gemma. Say Hello nicely, slavegirl." He was obviously enjoying himself and Gemma gritted her teeth, knowing that any attempt on her part to refuse or protest would earn her punishment.
"Hello," she said ungraciously, then, seeing her Master frown, quickly added, "Mistress."
The short, black haired Helen seemed uncertain whether to respond and looked up at Steven.
He chuckled, clearly relishing Gemma's embarrassment and smiled down at his tiny companion, "It's all right, darling. Gemma has been trained to call almost everybody Master or Mistress. Isn't that right, slavegirl?"
"Yes, Master," she replied instantly and he chuckled again.
"You see, it's all part of her training as a slave."
Helen smiled nervously, "Yes, I understand, Steven. And that's why she's all..tied up and...and naked, I suppose, is it? All a part of her being a..a slave?"
"That's right," he agreed cheerfully, "It goes with the territory for a slave. Doesn't it, slavegirl?" and his eyes gleamed with mischief as he forced her to answer again.
Gemma knew what he was doing and decided that if he was going to play games with her, she might as well get it over with as quickly as possible.
"Yes, Master," she answered peevishly, "I'm your slavegirl and I must obey you at all times. If you wish me to be kept naked and tied up for your pleasure, then I must accept it, Master," and she pulled her shoulders even further back, displaying her naked breasts still more prominently.
His eyes flashed as he heard her answer and Gemma swallowed nervously, hoping that her momentary slip into flippancy wouldn't earn her immediate retribution.
"Gemma is quite correct, my dear," he said, smiling at Helen, "However, she should also have mentioned that a slavegirl is required to be respectful to her Master at all times. Any failure to do so might have unfortunate consequences for her," and his reply left his worried captive in no doubt that her lapse would not be forgotten...or forgiven.
Helen nodded, "Well, yes I suppose so," she began, "But when did she.....?"
"I tell you what, Helen," Steven broke in, "If you've got lots of questions, why don't you ask Gemma directly? I'll push off for a while and you two girls can have a good long chat without me overhearing what you're talking about. How does that sound?" and he smiled warmly at his lovely companion.
Helen looked up at him, then across at Gemma, "All right, Steven, if you think so. Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"
"No, not at all. It's fine with me and I'm sure that Gemma won't object either. You ask her about anything you want to know, my dear. Don't be nervous, she won't bite you and she's quite securely fixed so you don't have to worry that she'll get loose."
Helen hesitated for a second, then smiled brightly, "OK, darling, that would be fine and it would make things a bit easier."
"Good, that's settled then. I'll be back in..what? An hour, say? Great. See you then."
He strode to the door, then turned back and looked straight at Gemma, "Tell Helen whatever she wants to know," he ordered firmly, "And tell her the truth, slavegirl, or you will have to explain yourself to me. Do you understand?"
Gemma replied automatically, "Yes Master," then realised that she had no idea what Helen was going to ask her.
It was too late. Her Master's back disappeared through the door and as the bolts slid home, she was alone with a complete stranger.
An awkward silence stretched out longer and longer as the two women gazed at each other, Helen seemingly too shy to begin the conversation and Gemma carefully trained and conditioned not to speak until spoken to.
Just when Gemma was nerving herself to break the rules and speak, Helen asked abruptly, "How long have you been a..slavegirl, Gemma?"
Embarrassingly, Gemma had to admit that she had no idea, "I don't know, Mistress," she said, red faced, "I was enslaved at the beginning of April, Mistress."
"It's August 28th today, so that's what...about five months, isn't it?" Helen replied and Gemma bit her lower lip. She still had seven months of her enslavement to serve. An eternity!
"How did it happen? I mean, why did you decide to..to be...what you are?" Helen's cheeks burned with two bright patches of colour as she asked the question.
"I didn't have any choice, Mistress," Gemma said miserably and explained to the shocked brunette how her partner had bargained away her freedom for a whole year, in return for a business loan.
"But...But that's awful!" Helen cried, "You poor thing! Couldn't you have escaped, or something?"