Bondage Hotel

by Charles Graham

  Hazel gulped and clenched her teeth, both excited and frightened by his stern expression.

  She didn’t really think he would punish her and couldn’t imagine what that punishment might be, but realised that it would be extremely foolish to disobey or argue with him when she was so tightly tied.

  He reached between her spread thighs and unlocked her padlock, then unhooked her rings to give access to her damply glistening sex as her labia folded back.

  His fingers caressed her, stroked her, fondled her remorselessly and Hazel writhed in her bonds, her body on fire as she fought a desperate, losing battle not to scream and beg him to make her come.

  It was a battle she could not possibly win and Hazel knew it.

  As well as she knew that she did not really want to win it, for in losing the battle, she would be forced to give in to the ropes that bound her and the blazing passions that her helplessness and his touch combined to ignite in her.

  The firm grip of tape over her lips and cheeks as he gagged her, sent her hurtling into a second climax, but, to her instant and growing horror, his hands did not stop and her eyes bulged wildly, her fingers clawing at the air as he forced her arousal still higher.

  Squealing in panic, Hazel struggled frantically to free herself and stop the ever increasing tumult in her body, but she had been bound by a Master and her efforts achieved nothing but the chilling realisation that she was utterly at his mercy.

  Staring down into the anguished, pleading eyes of his captive slave, Miles chuckled grimly. “You are a slave now, Hazel and you must submit to your Master totally. And you will, whether you like it or not.”

  The bound redhead whimpered, then screamed as a third unstoppable orgasm convulsed her belly as he thrust his fingers deep into her sex and forced her to surrender yet again.

  “You see, slave,” Miles grinned. “I give the orders and you obey. If I decide to make you come, then you will and if I don’t, then you won’t. No matter how much you would like to. That’s how it works, slave and how it will continue to work while you wear your slave collar.”

  Hazel shuddered in terrible despair as her belly pulsed and kicked, but there was absolutely nothing she could do and her brain reeled as she faced the awful truth that her wish to please Miles by becoming his fantasy slave-girl, had gone far beyond what she had ever imagined.

  The collar locked so immovably around her throat was no fantasy and, incredible as it seemed, he clearly intended to keep her as his slave.

  He rolled on top of her and his hard, engorged maleness plunged to the bubbling core of her belly as he took her with deep, fast lunges. His fingers and lips nibbled and squeezed her erect, painfully sensitive nipples until she squealed and wept in horror and shame as she submitted to his absolute dominance over her. Her body exploded into a fourth gigantic climax as his seed hosed into her pounding belly.

  For Hazel, the staggering shock of being treated...and taken...as a subjugated slave-girl, was absolutely devastating and she slumped in her bonds, panting for air through flaring nostrils, her sweat soaked body shaking to the power of her climax and her eyes wide with the stunned disbelief of her submission to her Master’s ruthlessness.

  Far too late, she began to understand the true nature of her slavery and that Miles would never be satisfied with anything less than her full and complete capitulation to his Mastery.

  As his instantly obedient and wholly submissive slave-girl.

  Pinned beneath her Master’s relaxed body, spreadeagled by his ropes and spasming from his brutal ravishing of her helpless nudity, Hazel knew that the collar she had placed about her own neck would never be removed and that she would be made to serve him in any way he demanded of her.

  What those demands might be, she could only speculate, but one thing was frighteningly clear...

  Her body was already enslaved, unable...and unwilling...to resist his touch and his lips.

  And where her body led, Hazel recognised and accepted, her mind must, eventually, follow...

  When he untied her arms and sat her up, then ordered her to put on a thin blue blouse he gave her and cross her wrists behind her, Hazel had little option but to obey, for her ankles were still securely lashed to the bedposts.

  Thirty seconds later, she shivered to the feel of cold, inescapable steel on her flesh as he handcuffed her and then removed her leather cuffs.

  With her gag still in place, she could not protest as he untied her legs, helped her to her feet and marched her out to his car.

  A thousand questions raced through her brain as he got in and started the engine, but she could give voice to none of them and as he drove through London and on into the country, she shuddered helplessly, a prey to nameless fears.

  The countryside grew flat and open, unknown to Hazel, the names of towns and villages conveying nothing to her and she shrank down in her seat, trying vainly to conceal her naked thighs and belly and the collar gleaming on her throat.

  At last, he turned in through a pair of massive iron gates and drove up a long smoothly surfaced drive across well-kept parkland studded with large groups of trees.

  And Hazel saw the large, well proportioned house where, unsuspected by her, she was to become a fully trained and ultimately submissive slave-girl.

  In the Bondage Hotel…

  Chapter Three

  As Hazel was driven up to the front door of the Bondage Hotel, she whimpered and tugged vainly at the handcuffs securing her wrists, terrified that she was going to be displayed half naked and bound and gagged, to whoever owned the house.

  To her intense relief, Miles, her Master, chuckled and told her that the house was unoccupied. As he helped her from the car, she gazed in awe at the building.

  Built of mellow red brick and at least two centuries old, the three story house bathed in the late afternoon sun, its tall windows sparkling and reflecting the lush grass and trees of the grounds which stretched in all directions around its bulk, while to each side of the main building, lower, single storeyed levels suggested stables and storage areas.

  “Come on.” Her Master gripped her left arm and walked her to the front door, then unlocked it and pushed her inside.

  The entrance hall, long, wide and thickly carpeted was elegantly furnished with comfortable looking leather chairs and settees. Hazel stared around in fascination, wishing she could ask where she was and why.

  Her eye caught sight of strange slots in the ceiling, one on each side of the room, leading up to and, apparently, through into the rooms beyond the closed doors, but could make no sense of what they might be for.

  Her Master pushed her over to a tall, narrow cupboard just inside the main door and snapped, “Kneel, slave and do not move.”

  Hazel hesitated, but with her wrists handcuffed and his hand gripping her arm, realised the futility of resistance.

  She knelt as ordered and watched as he opened the cupboard.

  Inside, chains glittered and she swallowed nervously as he seized one of the dangling lengths and pulled it forwards.

  With a soft rattle, the chain glided towards her and her eyes opened wide as she saw that it was attached at its upper end to a sort of car that slid in the ceiling track.

  The lower end reached to within an inch of the floor and terminated in an open padlock, an open padlock that her Master immediately snapped into the ring at the left side of her slave collar.

  Tethered by gleaming chain that hung in a loop to her collar, Hazel was astonished as her Master explained casually, “The track in the ceiling goes to every room in the building, so that you can be sent wherever you’re wanted with no fear of you escaping, slave. Follow me.” He walked off, leaving her on her knees, dumbfounded at his arrogance and filled with horror at finding herself chained.

  Realising that she was not following, he turned and frowned. “I gave you an order, slave,” he said coldly, but Hazel was too shocked to obey.

  “Very well, slave. Then you will learn the penalty for disobedience,” he sai
d as he strode back to the cupboard.

  He reached in, then turned back to Hazel and she gave a shriek of terror as she saw that he held a thin, flexible riding crop in his hand.

  She scrambled awkwardly to her feet and tried to run, but the chain at her collar allowed her to get no farther than the front door before it reached the end of the track, bringing her flight to an end with a cruel tug at her collar.

  Jerked to a halt, Hazel stared wildly at her unmoving Master and the evil crop tapping against his palm. “Come here, slave,” he snapped, “Kneel at my feet and place your forehead on the carpet.”

  Hazel tugged wildly at her tethering chain, but only succeeded in jarring her neck. Her Master growled, “You have five seconds to carry out my order. You are here as a slave and you will obey as one. If you do not, you will be cropped until you learn obedience. Now, come here.”

  His tone crackled with a force and a menace that he had never used with her before and her eyes filled with horrified tears as she realised that he meant every terrifying word.

  She stumbled forward, sobbing, and threw herself to her knees, thrusting her head down until she was in the position ordered, her entire body trembling wildly and praying that he would not beat her.

  “That’s better,” his voice was merciless. “As a new and untrained slave, your punishment will be light, this time. Three strokes. If you move, I shall begin again. As often as necessary.”

  Behind her quivering, upraised buttocks, the crop rose then fell, with a sharp crack, upon her soft flesh.

  Hazel screamed in agonised disbelief as furious heat erupted across her bottom and fell forward onto her belly, her cuffed hands attempting to reach her smarting flesh.

  “Resume your position, slave,” the icy voice cut through her screams. “I shall not tell you again.”

  Sobbing with pain and shock, Hazel knew she must obey or risk further punishment and with a despairing effort, managed to twist herself back onto her knees and force her head down to the carpet, presenting her stinging buttocks to his crop.

  “You are learning, slave,” her Master’s mocking voice sent shudders through her bowed body. “Disobedience by a slave is never tolerated and you would be wise to remember that. I shall now begin your punishment again, as I promised.”

  Knowing that she was powerless to stop him cropping her, Hazel clenched her teeth in anticipation, summoning up all the courage she could muster to try to hold her position and obey his order.

  She feared that if she failed, she would be cropped again and again until she did as he wished.

  The crop hissed down and she squealed into her gag, fighting to stay still as red heat flared in her buttocks.

  The second and third strokes cracked across her naked, cowering flesh, turning her whole bottom into a tingling, smarting mass of furious heat and Hazel wept in misery and growing shame, for, despite her pain and despair and her efforts to deny it, she was horribly conscious of a growing wetness and warmth between her thighs.

  She was becoming aroused by the punishment and although her brain sent message after message to her treacherous body, she could not prevent the insidious spread of unwanted heat into her belly and sex.

  As the fourth and final stroke painted her buttocks with a line of scarlet, Hazel sobbed in anguish, unable to understand her own reaction to her cropping and totally confused by the desire seething in her belly.

  A hard hand forced its way between her thighs and Hazel froze in horror as fingers discovered her shame, sliding easily in the slick wetness of her humiliating arousal.

  “Excellent, slave,” her Master’s cruel chuckle brought red spots of colour to her cheeks. “Just as I thought, you are a true slave and a natural submissive, as I realised the moment I first saw you. Here, in my Bondage Hotel, those qualities will be most valuable as you are trained to serve me and my guests. Now, get on your feet and follow me and I shall show you what will be expected of you.”

  As she struggled to her feet, Hazel’s brain whirled to the sheerly awful revelation that he had planned to enslave her from the very first time they had met, almost four months before.

  Not only that, but she had actively assisted him at every stage of what she now saw to be a very carefully planned scheme.

  The first time he tied her wrists, his insistence on spreadeagling her when they made love, his purchase of bondage magazines and leather cuffs, the use of the vibrator to drive her into a sexual frenzy...all, she now saw, designed to produce the end result of her complete subjugation and enslavement.

  In her innocence, she had trusted him completely, never imagining that his encouragement of her enjoyment of bondage and the sexual pleasure it gave her was merely a prelude to the locking of a steel collar about her throat and the beginning of a new life as an authentic and helpless slave.

  Hazel flushed redly as she imagined how he must have laughed to find her pierced and ringed and padlocked when he returned from his seminar, then groaned as she remembered the thrill of kneeling before him and locking her slave collar on her own neck.

  He had even told her that, once collared, she would be enslaved and no longer in control of her own destiny, but she had not really believed him.

  She believed him now, but it was too late.

  Collared, handcuffed, tethered by a chain leash, she was utterly helpless...and subject to cruel punishment if she disobeyed his orders.

  How could she have been so blind?

  All the warning signs were there, but, somehow, in the excitement and pleasure of arousal and lovemaking, she had not seen them.

  Now, she was a slave in what her Master called his Bondage Hotel.

  What did it all mean?

  What would she have to do?

  He said she was a natural submissive, but was she?

  True, she loved to be tied up and made to climax by him, but what had he meant when he said she would have to serve him and his guests?

  Surely, he couldn’t mean...?

  But what if he did?

  If she tried to refuse, would she be cropped?

  Even worse, if she was cropped, would her body betray her and become shamefully aroused…again?

  These worries flashed through Hazel’s brain in seconds. As her Master strode over to the first closed door to his left, she knew she had no choice but to follow as he had ordered, her obedience assured by the crop he still held in his right hand.

  Her tethering chain tightened as she walked nervously forward, but then the car slid in its ceiling track and she entered a beautifully decorated and comfortably furnished room, with a well stocked bar in one corner.

  “The lounge,” her Master announced. “This is where you will serve drinks to the guests.”

  Hazel looked around, her belly churning with anxiety and arousal as she saw that the ceiling track split into a fan shape, allowing her to reach every corner of the lounge.

  It told her that she would have to serve as a tethered slave and she could only imagine what his guests would make of her collar.

  A shocking thought struck her.

  What if she was made to serve stark naked, with her ringed labia padlocked and on show?

  Before she had time to panic, her Master turned and said, “Come, slave.” She had to go with him.

  The second room was a dining room with only five tables, each easily reached by one of the ceiling tracks.

  “You will serve meals here, slave.” Hazel nodded dumbly, realising that she was not only to be a slave, but a hard working one.

  The third room, a small study, held computers, fax machines, a photocopier and several telephones.

  “Many of my guests are businessmen,” he told her. “They need to keep in touch, so may require you to serve drinks in here.”

  The fourth room was a large library and as Hazel checked the ever present tracks in the ceiling, she shivered to see that most, perhaps all, of the books and magazines, bore titles which related to bondage, slavery and the training of slaves.

&
nbsp; If they were an indication of the tastes of her Master’s guests, she could expect no sympathy for her plight from that quarter.

  Her Master waved his arm expansively. “This is one of the most extensive collections of bondage erotica in Europe,” he told her, “So, you may rest assured that your training will be to the highest standard.”

  His confidence was of little comfort to Hazel, who remembered all too clearly the stringent bondage and extreme vulnerability of the slave-girls pictured in her bondage magazines.

  At the time, she had thoroughly enjoyed their helpless exposure and aroused herself with fantasies of her own body bound in similar ways...but that had been before she became a slave.

  The reality was less pleasurable, because she knew that she could be just as tightly bound but that, unlike her fantasies, she would not be able to free herself by simply changing her mind.

  She would have to endure her bondage for as long as her Master pleased...and she was well aware that it pleased him to leave her tied for lengthy periods.

  Ushered from the library and to the foot of the sweeping staircase, her spirits sank as she saw the infuriating ceiling track leading upwards and realised that she would not have to be released from her tether.

  On the first floor, there were four magnificent suites, each with a superbly appointed lounge, large bedroom complete with four poster bed, small study and luxurious bathroom and in each, the track split to allow a tethered girl to reach all of the areas.

  The second floor held only two even larger suites and these, her Master told her, belonged to himself and his partner.

  When not required elsewhere in the hotel, Hazel would spend much time there. She shivered as he slid back two solid bolts on the outside of a small, heavy door in the corner of his bedroom and showed her a simply furnished room containing a basin, single wooden armchair, small television and narrow wooden bed with ornately carved wooden posts at each corner.

  “These are your quarters, slave,” he told her, “As you see, they are simple, but perfectly adequate. Look out of the window.”