She was not left in doubt for long, for after a brief discussion the three men lifted Gemma, carried her over to a sturdy tree and while two supported her limp frame, the third released her wrists, re-secured them around the tree, then carefully arranged her breasts so that one lay on each side of the trunk and used a short piece of rope to link her nipple rings. Her knees were then spread in the same manner and tied securely and Gemma's eyes rolled wildly as her entire body hugged the coarse bark as further ropes at her waist, shoulders and tops of her thighs pressed her into an ever more intimate embrace with the unforgiving wood.
Gemma could not even scream as Master Nicos pronounced sentence upon her, "Slaves who attempt to escape are punished. You attempted such an escape and will be punished accordingly. Each of your Masters will deliver ten strokes of the crop to your thighs and buttocks and you will then be sent for further training and discipline until you are considered to be fully satisfactory in all respects. Punishment will commence as soon as the anaesthetic wears off," and his fingers invaded the soft flesh between Gemma's widely spread thighs as he checked to see whether it had.
"Five more minutes," he announced calmly and the brunette's brain quailed in anticipation of the punishment soon to be inflicted upon her.
And yet, as the minutes dragged slowly by and feeling returned to her limbs, Gemma could not control the masochistic heat which slowly built in her belly and sex as she awaited the discipline of her Masters. Trained, schooled and conditioned over many months to be the perfect slavegirl of all and any Masters, Gemma had been taught to be helplessly responsive to both caresses and the whip and knew that her body would betray her desperate longings even as she screamed vain pleas for mercy. She would not be able to help herself, would have to endure as best she could the agony of her punishment....but, far worse than the cropping, she knew she would have to endure the searing, overwhelming desires unleashed in her defenceless body by the combination of her punishment, her Masters' hands upon her and the submissive passions of her own nature already seething and bubbling deep inside her. For Gemma knew and understood that she was, truly, a slavegirl.
Master Nicos thrust a hand between her thighs and drew it back slick with her juices as Gemma quivered in her bonds, "Very well. This slave is ready for punishment."
The first crop rose, hovered for a moment, then fell with a brisk crack of leather and Gemma, under punishment, howled into her gag as heat blazed across her right buttock. Immediately a second stripe painted her left cheek and she squealed again, then again as a third scored across her thigh. Three more followed in quick succession, then hands rolled her rigid nipples and invaded her sex, penetrating her unmercifully as she threw her head back in utter submission and her love juices flowed in torrents into her belly and over the fingers of her tormentors.
Unable to move without causing herself pain, Gemma gabbled wordless pleas into her gag as she surrendered abjectly. Pleas to be shown mercy, to be untied, to be allowed to please all of them in any way they desired, to be obedient, to submit willingly, to grovel at their feet, anything, if only they would take pity on her.
The punishment began again and Gemma shrieked in total despair, realising that she could offer her Masters nothing that they could not forcibly extract from her. Indeed, nothing that they did not already possess, for she was their slavegirl and must..must and would..give them everything! She could not, would not be permitted, to hold back even the smallest thing from her Masters, for they owned her. Owned her totally and completely, dominated every aspect of her very existence, controlled her with a power that was terrifyingly absolute and hugely, uncontrollably, erotic!
A Master drove irresistibly into her belly, his erection massive and iron hard and Gemma orgasmed explosively, her love juices foaming down around him as he took her brutally, pinning her to the tree trunk as he exerted his full, masculine strength and driving her into a second gigantic climax as his seed jetted into her pulsing belly to mix with the swirling juices of her submission as she surrendered to his Mastery of her.
Devastated, Gemma sagged in her bonds as he pulled from her, but her ordeal was not yet over and she sobbed and wept and screamed as the final burning strokes of her punishment turned her bottom into an inferno of blistering heat to match the bubbling cauldron of her seething belly.
A hand knotted in her hair and tugged cruelly, forcing Gemma's head back until her tear streaked face stared helplessly upwards into the hard, remorseless gaze of Master Nicos.
"A foolish mistake, slave," he said coldly, "For which you have only just begun to pay. Soon, I promise you, you will regret your actions even more than you do already."
He held his riding crop before her terrified eyes and gave a mirthless smile, "You are frightened of this, aren't you, slavegirl, because you now know what it can to to you, don't you?" and he nodded slowly, hearing her soft whimpers, "But a crop can do more, much more, if a Master chooses."
For a long moment, Gemma froze, then her eyes widened in shocked understanding and her pinioned body gave a great shudder.
Nicos grinned and released her hair and Gemma shook her head slowly, disbelievingly, as she realised what the Masters had in mind, her buttocks and thighs tensing frantically against her bonds as she fought to close her gaping thighs.
In vain.
Gently, with calculated cruelty, the braided leather handle of a crop insinuated itself between the ringed, wetly glistening lips of her engorged labia and as it did so, her belly gave a convulsive judder of unbearable arousal.
Powerless to prevent or avoid the unwanted stimulation, Gemma knew she was lost and as her belly shook and trembled on the brink of orgasm, she screamed in the anguish of a slavegirl forced to submit to the shameful humiliation of climaxing to the whip.
Bound in total exposure, responding wildly to the caress of leather, Gemma climaxed with awesome power, unable to resist or control the masochistic lusts unleashed within her as the whip exerted its Mastery of her and huge pulses of love juices sprayed into her belly.
Subjugated to the ultimate degree, Gemma wept softly as her Masters savoured her utter defeat, knowing, as they knew, that only a true submissive would surrender as she had.
Deeply, helplessly, uncontrollably...and worst of all...willingly.
Only a true submissive....and a true slave.
Later, taken back to Nicos' yacht, but kept tightly bound, Gemma cried herself to sleep, her mind filled with images of her shame...and fears of what the next day would bring.
When she was sent for further training...and further discipline...
CHAPTER 15
The broad leather straps bolted to the walls of the transport crate held Gemma's nude body immobilised and she had long since given up her futile efforts to escape their implacable grip on her limbs. Brought on the deck of her Master's yacht soon after sunrise, Gemma had wisely not attempted to make even the smallest protest as she was positioned in the crate and secured for her journey and was then in no position to resist as, after checking the tightness of each strap personally, Nicos produced a leather helmet and informed her that he had decided to increase the security of her incarceration. The isolation hood, he said, would ensure no further foolishness on her part, for it was to be locked upon her and could not be removed without the key...of which he held one and the other was at her destination. Even if Gemma were to succeed in freeing her limbs..a most unlikely event he felt..she would remain hooded with no chance of making a successful escape.
Gemma stared miserably up at him, knowing he had no reason to lie to her and licked dry lips nervously as he brought the hood towards her.
"Open your mouth," he commanded sternly and as Gemma obeyed, supple leather pressed against her face, a thick, hard rod gag sinking deep between her jaws and dense leather covered foam pads sealing her eyes and ears. A long metal zip drawn down from the crown of her head to the nape of her neck moulded the hood to the contours of her face and Gemma whimpered as every chink of light was excluded and her world became dark and utterly silent apart from the sound of her own breathing as she sucked in air through two small holes at her nostrils...the only apertures in the hood.
To add to her problems, one strap tightened over her stretched lips, forcing her gag deeper still, and a second gripped her neck snugly, removing any possibility of her somehow slipping or rubbing off the hood against anything.
Brief pressure at the two straps and two clicks, felt rather than heard, told her that padlocks now secured the hood and she trembled, imagining how she must look to any watchers.
Naked, tightly bound, her head encased in featureless black leather, locked straps imprisoning her in a silent world, totally defenceless and hopelessly vulnerable to the slightest whim of anyone chancing to open the crate containing her.
Exactly how defenceless and vulnerable was driven home to her some time later as hands captured her breasts and delved between her spread legs, toying with her, probing her innermost recesses and arousing her mercilessly as she gasped and screamed into her gag, her body on fire with instantaneous need she could do nothing to satisfy.
Driven into a sexual frenzy, vibrating with pent-up lust and needing only a touch to send her hurtling into a longed-for climax, Gemma wept in black despair as her orgasm was denied her. With calculated cruelty, the hands left her as she trembled on the brink of release, her unknown tormentors choosing not to give her what she needed so desperately and Gemma, a slavegirl under punishment, felt the crate being sealed and lifted as her journey began.
A journey which would end in her delivery to Masters who knew of her attempt to escape and whose task it was to re-impose discipline and absolute unquestioning obedience upon her.
The journey was long and uncomfortable, but to Gemma, not long enough, for she knew that at its end, her real trials would begin and her anxiety grew with every passing minute until she trembled in her bonds, the leather of her isolation hood damp with her sweat as she imagined what awaited her.
If only she hadn't tried to escape. How could she have been so stupid? She was an obedient slavegirl, really she was. It was just panic. It wasn't her fault and she'd never do it again. Really she wouldn't.
Gemma shivered, knowing that no excuses would be accepted. She would be disciplined, would be punished and nothing she could do or say would change that.
Her only defence, her only chance, was to be exactly what the Masters demanded.
Totally submissive, absolutely obedient and instantly responsive to any and every command, no matter how embarrassing or humiliating.
It was the only way and Gemma set her mind to it, no matter what the cost to her.
For the third time, she was aware of her mobile prison being lifted, moved and then set down and, as on each previous occasion, she steeled herself for the crate to be opened.
For the third time, nothing happened and she moaned in relief and frustration, almost wishing that the awful tension of her ignorance had been replaced with something concrete. Even if that meant the crops and orders and discipline of being retrained.
Drained by the uncertainty and stringent discomfort of her bondage, she fell into a shallow, uneasy doze.
Only to be awakened by the snap of clips into the rings at her nipples and the chill touch of steel chain against her flesh.
Icy fear gripped her belly and she trembled horribly as she realised that she was still helplessly bound, still hooded and unable to protect her presented nudity.
Confident hands began to release the straps which had held Gemma so efficiently for her journey, but, immobilised for so long, her limbs were cramped and weak and she was quite unable to move for several minutes.
Until the owner, or owners, of the hands grew impatient and began to apply pressure to the chains clipped to Gemma's nipple rings, forcing the aching, wincing brunette to crawl blindly out of the crate.
On all fours, blind and deaf inside her tight fitting isolation hood and terrifyingly aware of the threat presented by her leashed breasts, Gemma forced her body onto her knees and arched her spine in a display of her complete submission as her wrists were gripped, taken behind her back and locked together.
The chains tightened and Gemma rose awkwardly to her feet, her gasp of pained anguish lost in her gag as she obeyed helplessly, able only to obey the signals transmitted directly to her tender nipples as exactly as she could, with not even the remotest possibility of resistance or escape.
Forward and back, around and around she stumbled, terrorised by her blindness and the instant, painful retribution visited on her breasts when, inevitably, she failed to read the signal correctly or was too slow in her obedience to its message.
Desperate to please her unknown tormentors, Gemma raised herself on tip-toe, stretching her body frantically as her leash rose, holding herself painfully upright for as long as the pull on her nipple rings demanded in her efforts to obey...then went to her knees and pressed her face to the floor as the chains pulled downwards to force her belly and breasts to the carpet.
Over and over again in a merciless demonstration of power over her, until Gemma's body ached and protested, her nipples painfully swollen and sore and her brain numb with the horror and despair of her absolute subjugation to the tyranny of her chains and those who held them.