Gemma

by Charles Graham

  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.

  Forced once more to her belly, she shuddered in misery as her legs were doubled up tight to her buttocks and the chains brought around her hips and locked to her ankles, securing her face down and unable to move.

  A knowing hand between her spread thighs applied devastating caresses to her labia and clitoris, sending unbearable and unwanted arousal surging into Gemma's sex and she screamed shrilly as fires of lust ignited in her belly. Violent shudders shook her trapped body and she screamed again as her uncontrollable response tightened the chains to her nipples, sending jolts of additional and painful arousal through her until she wept and sobbed and begged, not knowing whether she begged for the torment to stop...or to continue to the orgasm so nearly upon her!

  She was given no choice, the stimulation ceasing abruptly and Gemma groaned in misery, well aware of the lesson of her anguish. She was under discipline, a slavegirl in training and it was not for her to control the levels of her pain or pleasure.

  Those decisions and those choices were not hers to make...they belonged to her Masters and it was her Masters, and only her Masters, who would decide.

  Left alone with her despair, hungry, thirsty and seething with unsatisfied sexual need, Gemma had no option but to re-learn the harsh lessons of her enslavement.

  When her Masters eventually returned to unlock the isolation hood and peel it away from her head, it was a thoroughly demoralised and frightened Gemma who raised her anxious eyes to her captors.

  The sight which greeted her as she rose to her knees and displayed her body, did nothing to allay her fears.

  Two fully dressed, anonymous Masters, their faces hidden behind black leather masks stared down at her, each holding one of the chains clipped to her nipple rings in one hand and a Devil's Palm in the other, their eyes and mouths hidden behind perforated leather covers.

  The taller of the two, a huge man, Gemma thought was probably Master Axel, the other, female, was most likely Mistress Lydia, but Gemma could not be absolutely sure...and even if she was right, the knowledge that she was in the hands of the two most demanding and cruel members of The Consortium, gave her no cause for rejoicing.

  "You have not been pleasing to Masters, slavegirl," the deep, grating voice could have been Master Axel's, but the mask distorted his tone and Gemma could still not be certain, "You are here to put that failing right."

  "It is not wise for slavegirls to be unsatisfactory," the voice of the woman was equally distorted, "As you are about to find out."

  Gemma gulped and opened her mouth to beg for forgiveness, but a cruel tweak of the chain to her right nipple forestalled her, changing her unspoken plea to a gasp of pained anguish.

  "You will remain silent at all times, slave. If you are required to speak, you will be ordered to do so. Understand?"

  The order was given in a chilling hiss and Gemma shivered, understanding only too well.

  Her re-training then began and as she arched and stretched and bent her sweating body into the many graceful, fluid and shamefully exposed positions of a slavegirl's submission, Gemma found, to her cost, that simple obedience was not sufficient to satisfy her Masters.

  Perfection in every movement, every offered curve of her body, the angle of her head and neck, even the expressions on her face, was demanded.

  Demanded, and enforced ruthlessly, each perceived failure on her part punished with tweaks of her nipple rings and stinging slaps of the Devil's Palm to her naked, trembling flesh until her buttocks and thighs and belly smarted with tingling heat and the tears ran down her cheeks even as the Master's commands sent her from one humiliating pose to the next.

  Struggling with every fibre of her being to please them and avoid further punishment, Gemma used every skill and feminine wile she possessed to display her beauty in the most sensual way possible, pointing her toes, hollowing her back, holding her neck to show off the slim curve of her throat and thrusting her hips and belly forward to present herself in the most erotic and provocative ways she knew.

  The effects on both Gemma and her Masters was inevitable.

  Heat rose in Gemma's belly and her sex grew slick with moist desire as her own submissive display aroused her, encouraging her to greater efforts and a still more lascivious exhibition of her subjugation.

  Nor were her Masters immune to her all too available charms, but they, mindful of their duty to discipline an erring slave, ordered her to adopt the punishment position.

  On her knees, forehead pressed to the carpet, thighs widely spread and with her wrists still secured behind her back, Gemma's upraised buttocks and the damp entry to her sex provided an irresistible target for both discipline and pleasure.

  A target of which her Masters took full, and unfair advantage.

  Not longer daring to make the smallest movement which might be taken as disobedience or resistance, Gemma's smoothly rounded buttocks quivered and reddened as Devil's Palms cracked down, each pair of stinging impacts followed by merciless arousal as the fingers of her Masters explored and probed her until her sex and thighs glistened with silver droplets of love juices and she could not prevent moans of desperate need forcing their way past her clenched teeth or the uncontrollable jerking of her body as she was driven far beyond the limits of her control.

  Gemma's sweating, sex-stained body stiffened into rigidity as a massive, rock hard erection drove into her, impaling her and penetrating to the very core of her belly to trigger a gigantic climax as she surrendered instantly, great tearing convulsions shaking her furiously as she came.

  Buried deep in her seething belly and surrounded by the pulsing heat of her passion, her Master's shaft grew larger, filling her and pounding into the wet channel of Gemma's sex until her lips drew back in a silent scream of absolute submission and her belly contorted again and again to wave after wave of terrifyingly powerful orgasms forced from her helplessly responding frame.

  Lost in a whirlpool of sexual frenzy and subjugation, Gemma whimpered in abject misery as her Master withdrew from her and her brain reeled with horror as she realised that he had not reached orgasm despite the chaos and devastation inflicted upon her.

  Taken as a slave and forced to exhibit the uttermost depths of her slave heat by a Master who knew well how to extract the ultimate degree of sexual servitude from a slave, Gemma quailed to the knowledge of the power that he, and any other Master, exerted over her.

  Power that he, and they, would not hesitate to use against her.

  Spasming to the orgasm racking her body, Gemma collapsed into a panting, gasping huddle as the woman's hard voice gave her permission to relax and she lay limp and exhausted, a prey to her awful fears as she felt her ankle cuffs locked together and her captors leaving the room where she lay.

  Time passed slowly as Gemma recovered from her ordeal and as she did so, other discomforts began to make themselves known.

  She ached
all over, her bottom throbbed with the memory of the Devil's Palms and she was extremely thirsty and hungry...but there was nothing she could about any of them.

  Thankfully, her Masters had no intention of letting such a valuable commodity as a slavegirl come to harm through lack of food and water and it was not too long before they returned to place two shallow bowls before her.

  "On your knees, slavegirl. Eat."

  Greatly hampered by her bound wrists and ankles, Gemma eventually managed to rise to her knees and her face flushed a dull red as her Masters made no move to release her cuffs.

  "Eat," the repeated order was accompanied by a cursory flick of a Devil's Palm across her bottom and Gemma knew she must obey.

  Under the watchful gaze of her hooded Masters, the bound brunette bent forward until her lips sank into the thick stew in the first bowl, meat juice and gravy smearing her face as she lapped and swallowed ravenously. The bowl licked clean, Gemma transferred her attentions to the second dish, sucking up the cool, delicious water and, in the process, cleaning at least some of the stew from her face.

  Her Masters watched without comment, then, as they removed the bowls, "You are here to be re-trained to be pleasing to Masters, slavegirl. In the days to come, that is exactly what you will do. Failure will not be tolerated."

  With that, the two dominants strode from the room, leaving Gemma to speculate anxiously on when and how and not least, who she would be required to please?

  With her wrists locked behind her back and her head clamped tightly between the muscular thighs of her Mistress, Gemma was busily engaged in pleasuring the woman when she heard the door open and realised that they were no longer alone. The knowledge brought a scarlet flush to her face, but she knew that any attempt on her part to withdraw her lips from the aroused dominant's body would not only be doomed to failure, but would earn her a punishment and so Gemma crushed down the immediate humiliation she felt and continued to nibble delicately at the hardened nub of her Mistress's clitoris and run her tongue up and down the moist, engorged lips of the woman's sex.

  Mistress Lydia, if it was her, gave a deep sigh of pleasure and the grip of her thighs tightened as she neared her climax and Gemma redoubled her efforts, her lips and tongue working busily until she was rewarded by the pulsing of the woman's belly against her face and felt the warm, salty gush of love juices on her tongue.

  The thighs released their grip on Gemma's head as the Mistress relaxed, but as the slavegirl straightened her back, a deep masculine voice spoke from behind her.

  "Quite good, slave. Now, turn around and come here on your knees and we'll see if you can pleasure a Master equally as well."

  Gemma gulped nervously and turned towards the voice, well aware that she dare not show the slightest hesitation or reluctance....and froze as she saw the small group which had entered the room while she had been giving pleasure to her Mistress.

  The giant Master, Axel, face hooded, stood at the door, his arms folded casually as he waited for her to come to him, and to his left, a second Master, a smaller man, also anonymous in his black hood.

  Gemma knew immediately that the second man was Master Steven, for between him and Axel knelt a small, black haired, naked slavegirl, a glittering steel collar about her slim neck, her full breasts outthrust by the tension of what Gemma knew must be extremely tight bonds on her arms and her mouth held wide open by a steel ring wedged behind her teeth and held in place by a thin black leather gag strap.

  Helen!

  Once Steven's lover and equal, who had made the fatal error of agreeing to kneel before him and declare herself his slave.

  The lovely brunette had not realised what such a declaration meant to a man like Steven and Gemma remembered vividly Helen's complete shock and disbelief as her ex-lover..her new Master..snapped steel handcuffs on her wrists and ankles, gagged her and then cropped her for disobedience!

  Helen had not known at that time that she was to be enslaved fully...but she knew now. It was clear in her wide, frightened eyes, in the submissive posture of her displayed body...and in the mesh of faded pink crop marks adorning her spread thighs.

  Last seen by Gemma as Helen was crated to be sent off for training, the smaller girl had obviously been taught ruthlessly and well and Gemma could feel for her, remembering her own hard training.

  Her sympathy for Helen vanished as Master Axel's foot tapped ominously and she hurried on her knees to obey his command, her face blushing redly as she remembered that she had not only been seen pleasuring her Mistress, but that she would now have to do the same for a Master, with Master Steven and Helen watching her.

  Her enforced obedience would be a graphic object lesson for the small brunette and Gemma knew that Helen could hardly fail to understand the crystal clear message. In fact, she would not be permitted to misunderstand, or to deny the reality that for her, as for Gemma, complete, instant and unquestioning submission to a Master's will was the unavoidable consequence of her enslavement.

  There was and would be no going back, no escape, for either of them and Helen would be compelled, by force if necessary, to face and accept the sexual subjugation her ex-lover and the other members of The Consortium imposed upon her.

  Kneeling at the feet of her giant Master, Gemma arched her body and displayed herself for his pleasure, intensely and shamefully aware of eyes feasting on her nudity.

  Master Axel nodded slowly, then his hand went to his crotch and pulled down his zip to reveal his large, semi-erect maleness.

  "Please me, slavegirl," he ordered harshly and Gemma, not wishing to risk punishment, bent forward immediately and began to kiss and lick the thick shaft before her.

  The abilities learned over many months of captivity had not deserted her and his flesh quivered and stiffened to her skilful ministrations, his erection soon jutting directly at her in response to her efforts.

  Gemma's soft lips parted to receive her Master and she gasped, nostrils flaring, as her cheeks bulged to encompass the full length and girth of his aroused manhood, her tongue working busily at her ordered task.

  With her face pressed firmly against the coarse pubic hair of Master Axel's groin, she heard Master Steven's throaty chuckle, "There, Helen. You see. That is how a fully trained slavegirl serves her Master. Now it is your turn to serve and I do hope you won't disappoint me. In fact, my sweet, I'm quite sure you won't...unless, of course, you want another taste of my crop."

  From the corner of her eye, Gemma caught a brief glimpse of Helen's anguished face as Steven unzipped his trousers, then the slim brunette's head was pulled forward and down and her wordless cry of protest died in a spluttering cough as she was gagged by her Master's rigid flesh.

  Side by side, the two helpless slavegirls struggled to please their ruthless Masters, the silence of the room broken only by the ragged hiss of the girls' breathing and the grunts of the men as they savoured the delicious stimulation of female lips and tongues building them towards climax.

  Master Axel reached his peak first and clamped Gemma's head tightly to his belly with his huge hands as his seed jetted into her mouth and her throat worked convulsively as he made her swallow down every drop of his salty juices before allowing her to take her lips from his body.

  Sitting back on her heels, her spine erect in display position and panting from her exertions, Gemma could only watch in sympathy as the inexperienced Helen was subjected to the same humiliation by her Master and as Steven's hips pumped to the release of his spend, she knew exactly how ashamed and horrified the lovely brunette must feel as she learned the true extent of the Masters' power over her.

  Master Steven stepped back from his weeping slave and Helen shuddered despairingly, bowing her head in a futile effort to hide the glistening stains at her chin and neck.

  Gemma recognised the error immediately and knew that Helen would not be allowed the luxury of either modesty or laxity.

  Nor was she, for a Devil's Palm cracked across Helen's buttocks and a brusque command compe
lled her to straighten her back and offer her trembling body as the slave she truly was.

  Another command sent both slaves to their bellies and ropes snaked around their ankles before their legs were doubled to hogtie them.

  Gemma was then gagged and the two tightly bound captives stared miserably at each other as the two men, joined by the woman, strolled casually from the room.

  Sisters in their bondage and shared discomfort, Gemma and Helen could only offer and take what reassurance they could from each other by muffled grunts and eye contact, but it was some small comfort to both to know that the other was there and in the same helpless plight, even though neither could do anything to help the other.

  At one point, when Helen's eyes filled with tears and she whimpered in despair, Gemma managed to roll over and bring her head next to Helen's, succeeding in making her cheek brush gently against that of the weeping brunette and it was worth the effort to Gemma to see the smaller girl fight to control her fear and give a weak, tremulous smile in grateful thanks.