How could that be?
What was happening to her?
Gemma had no answers and her mind raced as Roxwell withdrew, dressed himself, then bent to remove the spreader bar between her ankles, but only to clip her ankle cuffs together.
Totally demoralised, she stared numbly up at him as he told her how much he had enjoyed her and how he looked forward to his next visit and she could only watch helplessly as he left her alone in her bondage to wait and wonder and worry about what her reactions to his taking of her really signified and what might happen when the other members of The Consortium imposed their will upon her!
CHAPTER 5
"Again, slavegirl and this time, arch your spine further and hold the pose until you receive permission to move."
Gemma blinked sweat out of her eyes and bit off the angry retort she longed to make, then stretched her body once more into the graceful but shamefully explicit display of the kneeling position she was being trained to perfect. With her knees spread wide and her big toes just touching behind her, Gemma's body was arched backwards in a sensual curve to display the lovely sweep of her thighs, belly, breasts and neck, her face pointing to the ceiling high above her. The deep hollow of her back concealed her hands and the steel cuffs locking her wrists together, but offered unhindered access to every other part of her body and gave prominent display to the broad steel collar around her slim neck which proclaimed her slavery to all who cared to look.
It was not a comfortable position to maintain but the naked brunette knew only too well that her discomfort was of no consequence to her Masters and that she would be punished if she dared to break the pose. Muscle tremors fluttered her taut flesh and she clenched her teeth as her Masters walked slowly around her proffered nudity, checking for the perfection they demanded.
Below her line of sight, fingers tweaked her left nipple and Gemma gasped, jerking her body backwards and away from the sudden assault.
Only to squeal in pain as a riding crop slashed down across her thigh, branding her with a stinging red stripe!
"You will resume the position or earn further punishment, slavegirl," the voice of her Master left no room for negotiation and Gemma forced her body back into position, trembling with horror at the cruelty of her captors.
"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," a smiling face rose into Gemma's vision and the anguished slave stared pleadingly into the laughing eyes of an elegant blonde woman, some years older than herself.
It was the afternoon of the third day of Gemma's enslavement to The Consortium, the second on which Roxwell had been joined by the unnamed blonde and Gemma had still to get over her intense shame at being forced to display her naked helplessness. Not that the woman seemed in the least concerned at Gemma's plight. On the contrary, she seemed to revel in the brunette's misery and take enormous pleasure in aiding Roxwell to impose rigid discipline upon her.
Discipline which Gemma strongly resented and, had, at first, tried to fight against.
Being an intelligent woman and realising that any show of overt resistance on her part would be ruthlessly crushed, Gemma had fought back in small ways, obeying the orders she was given as slowly as she dared, pretending to misunderstand and then, when finally in the positions ordered, allowing her spine and shoulders to droop so that her body slumped gracelessly instead of being beautifully displayed.
For a day, it had seemed to have worked and after she was locked in her cell for the night, Gemma had congratulated herself on her cleverness, chuckling to think how easily she had fooled Roxwell who had imagined himself to be her all powerful Master.
The following morning, however, everything had changed...
Roxwell strode into her cell and as Gemma went sloppily to her knees and half heartedly took up her submission position, she noted with alarm that he not only had a female companion with him, but that both carried thin, whippy riding crops. Her alarm grew ten fold as Roxwell stared grimly down at her, "Yesterday, slavegirl, I permitted you to defy your Master in order to let you believe that you could retain some control over your life. Today, you will learn the error of your ways!"
Gemma licked her suddenly dry lips and began to reply, "No, Master, I never meant.....owww!"
Her brief protest ended in a howl of anguish as two riding crops hissed down and painted a bright red stripe across the fronts of each of her doubled thighs.
"Silence!" Roxwell thundered, "Slaves do not speak until given permission," and Gemma quailed before his wrath, her lips tightly clenched and her eyes wide with pained shock and a dawning realisation that, perhaps, she had not been quite as clever as she had imagined!
Roxwell nodded in satisfaction, "Good," he said slowly, "I see you begin to understand now, we will repeat yesterday's exercises, but this time, you will display as the slave you are and you will display perfectly. Both your Mistress and I will be watching and if you fail to satisfy us, slavegirl, you will feel our crops again."
Gemma stared dumbly from one to the other and an icy lump grew in her belly as she faced what she suspected was going to be a long, long day... and a painful one!
As it turned out, it was a longer, harder day than even Gemma feared.
Her Master and Mistress were utterly ruthless, their sharp commands sending Gemma hurrying from one shameful pose to the next, her body stretching and bending this way and that as she struggled to keep up with the unending flow of demands.
"Straighten your spine!" The order accompanied by a stinging crop across her buttocks.
"Point your toes!" and pain blossomed on Gemma's right thigh.
"Head back! Further!" a stripe glowing hotly across her taut belly.
"No, no, no! Again, slave!" a choking sob as two crops scored her rounded bottom cheeks.
"Silence, slavegirl!" and two more lines adorned Gemma's nude flanks as she tried to beg for mercy.
Twisting and turning, but never able to avoid the burning accuracy of her Master's riding crops. Gemma threw herself body and soul into the submissive role demanded of her, all thoughts of resistance driven from her mind by the merciless voices and even more merciless whippings of her Masters. Her body ran with sweat as she displayed herself over and over again and she groaned helplessly as her best efforts were met with yet more cuts from their crops and ever more stringent demands for her to present her nudity to their gaze.
At one point in her painful education, Gemma froze, earning herself two smarting whip cuts as a deeply embarrassing fact became clear to her. Deep between her thighs, a growing wetness made itself felt. a wetness that Gemma knew was not mere sweat. She was becoming aroused by her torment!
Her cheeks flushed pinkly as she tried to pretend to herself that it was not happening, but even as she did so, the moist heat began to spread upward into her belly, fuelled by the shameless exhibition of sexuality she was being forced to give, combined with the painful eroticism of being subjected to whipping by two utterly dominant Masters!
Inch by inch, Gemma slipped further into the rose of slavegirl, her body taking on a sensual grace which appalled her and as she was taken over by the blistering heat of her arousal, her mind gave up the unequal struggle and she writhed and undulated in the most blatantly erotic surrender to the lusts burning within her!
The change in Gemma did not go unnoticed and her Masters smiled in triumph as every sinuous movement of their victim gave notice, far more clearly than any words, that the woman before them was powerless in the throes of a need far greater than she could control. No less enslaved by her own desires than by the collar on her throat and the steel on her limbs!
"On your knees, slave," Roxwell's throaty growl sent a wave of deliciously fearful anticipation coursing trhough Gemma's body as she heard the tell tale thickening of lust in his voice. In a less aroused state, she would have been horrified, but her need was so strong that she was unable to deny her physical longings and sank to her knees, thrusting her breasts and belly forward invitingly and arching herself into a graceful bow. Gemma's Mistress stared deep into her eyes, " If you move or make a sound we shall whip you, slave," she warned cruelly and the brunette's eyes widened to a surge of fierce hear in her belly as she clamped her lips together obediently.
On her knees, staring up at the ceiling, Gemma's nostrils flared as both her Masters sank out of her range of vision, leaving her unable to anticipate their next more, but tremblingly aware that her entire body lay helplessly vulnerable to them.
Seconds passed, each one an eternity to the trainee slavegirl, until she could not prevent a low moan of need escaping past her lips.
The sharp bite of a crop on her thigh and the brusque, "You were ordered to be silent," came as no surprise to Gemma and she panted for breath as her flesh burned with smarting heat, knowing that she was being trained and that the cruel delay in giving her what she needed so desperately was all a part of her Master's plan to deepen her enslavement.
Gemma knew it, but knowing it made no difference to its effectiveness and Gemma's brown eyes filled with unshed tears as she held her pose like the humblest of slaves, awaiting the pleasure of her Masters.
Her taut body shuddered galvanically and her mouth opened in a silent scream of unbearable passion as lips descended on her breasts and hot, wet tongues licked and sucked at her delicate nipples. Massive jolts of arousal raced through her body and she flung her head from side to side in wide eyed disbelief as her belly seemed to burst into flames, bringing her to the point of orgasm in seconds! Horrified at the speed and depth of her passion, Gemma squealed, "No!" and tried to hurl her body backwards and away from the lips of her Masters, but a strong hand knotted in her hair and held her helpless as the mouths continued their devastating assault.
Gemma's shrill screams echoed in the cell, but she was powerless and at the very first touch of a hand on the slick wetness of her engorged sex, plunged into a huge climax, her body contorting wildly to the spurting gushes of love juices in her belly as she came and came uncontrollably.
Roxwell released his grip on her hair and Gemma fell to the floor, curling into a tight, moaning ball as she shuddered in release and her climax raged through her, eyes screwed tightly shut and oblivious to the two Masters who stood over her.
The woman took a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit one and blew a long stream of menthol flavoured smoke into the air, "Impressive," she chuckled, "This one has the makings of a true slavegirl."
Roxwell nodded, "I agree, but she still has a great deal to learn," and he reached down with the tip of his riding crop and applied a light flick to Gemma's right hip. After a moment, he gave a second flick, somewhat harder and this time, Gemma flinched and her eyes opened.
"Up,slavegirl. We have not finished with you yet," and Gemma struggled to her feet and into her display position, mindful of the crop which Roxwell tapped against his leg.
"Hmm, not bad, slavegirl, but your neck should be arched more," the blonde commented and Gemma blushed angrily as her crop pressed beneath her chin, forcing her head farther back and tightening the slim column of her neck, "Yes, that's much better."
"Would you care for a drink, Alicia, I fancy one."
"Mmmm, lovely. Gin and tonic please, with plenty of ice."
"Right, you'll be alright with her, will you?"
"Oh, yes, I don't anticipate any trouble from her," and she gave a tinkling laugh as Roxwell turned away.
"You're not going to give me any trouble, are you, slavegirl, eh? she went on as the door clicked shut behind Roxwell, "Answer me, girl," and her crop flicked lightly at Gemma's belly.
"No Mistress," Gemma replied immediately, gritting her teeth.
"Good. Now, tell me, slavegirl, did you enjoy the climax we gave you?
Involuntarily, Gemma's head came down and she stared, shocked at her questioner.
"Well, I'm waiting, slavegirl."
Gemma's face reddened and she whispered, "I...I..Please don't make me say, Mistress, I..I'm ashamed."
The blonde's face hardened and her lips compressed into a thin, venomous line, "I asked you a question, slave,"she hissed and her blue eyes narrowed menacingly as she lifted her cruel whip.
There was no mistaking the threat and Gemma dropped her face from the fierce glare, her flush deepening as she capitulated, "I'm sorry, Mistress," she gasped, "Please don't whip me."
"Then answer the question."
Gemma sucked in a deep breath, "Yes Mistress," she whispered miserably, "I...I...did, Mistress. I couldn't help myself."
"Naturally not," the blonde agreed cheerfully, "Slaves are not supposed to be able to help themselves. That's the whole point of enslaving them. If you could control your responses you wouldn't be a slavegirl, would you?"
The logic, at least from the blonde's point of view, was inescapable and Gemma stared numbly down at the ground, realising that she was trapped by a self fulfilling prophecy. As a slavegirl, in bondage, she was not able to control the responses forced from her, but because she wasn't able to control her responses, she was deemed by the blonde and her friends, to be a slave! Once in the circle, there was no way out and Gemma knew it.