Bondage Hotel

by Charles Graham

  Hazel went to the small window and looked down.

  It was a sheer drop and she found herself staring down at a rectangular courtyard, surrounded on the other three sides by single storey buildings, the only access through a curved archway opposite where she stood.

  “The only door to this room is the one we came through,” he reminded her. “And the bolts are on the outside. I trust you get the picture.”

  Hazel nodded miserably.

  The room was a prison and she was the prisoner.

  “Good,” he chuckled, “Now, come with me and we shall tour the rest of the hotel facilities.”

  Downstairs once more, Hazel stared in astonishment at the indoor swimming pool, Jacuzzi and sauna in the first outbuilding, then at the fully fitted gymnasium with its wall bars, exercise bicycles, fitness and weight training machines and static running track in the second.

  That astonishment, however, faded to insignificance when she was faced with the contents of the room on the left side of the archway.

  Entered through two massively thick doors, it was windowless, dimly lit and, so her Master assured her, totally soundproof.

  As it needed to be, for it was fitted out as a bondage dungeon.

  Iron rings dotted the side walls, others, inset into the floor, could be lifted to act as securing points. From pulleys dangling from the roof, ropes and chains descended while, in the body of the room stood the unmistakable, frightening shapes of a stretching rack, two adjustable pillories and a tall, vertical “X” frame, all festooned with broad leather straps designed to hold a victim utterly secure.

  Stunned, Hazel stared in horror at a rack of whips and crops on the end wall, her belly quailing at the thought that they might be used on her.

  Her Master moved towards the whips, but, thankfully for Hazel, his attention was concentrated elsewhere.

  “Come here, slave,” he commanded. She went reluctantly to his side, her tethering chain clinking softly as she shivered in fear.

  On the waist high shelf in front of him and on the wall behind, a whole range of black leather bondage equipment was neatly laid out and her eyes opened wide to the display of cuffs of all sizes, gags of many different types, blindfolds, hoods, collars, straps and other, to her, unidentifiable items of leather bondage restraints.

  Her belly began to roll and lurch with a mixture of fear and arousal, because there was no trace of doubt in her mind that she would be made to wear much of what she saw before her and she could not help imagining how it would feel to be bound by the strong, shining leather.

  She turned to stare numbly at the rack and the pillories and the “X” frame and gave a soft whimper as her brain pictured her naked body clamped in the devices as a shadowy figure explored and investigated her, enjoying total power over her and forcing her to respond unconditionally to his will.

  Her Master chuckled, knowing exactly what was in her mind. “Patience, slave,” he told her, “They are not going anywhere and neither are you. There is plenty of time for you to find out just how...efficient my toys are. Unless, of course, you’d care to try them right now...?”

  Hazel stared at him and shook her head vigorously, appalled by the offer and the immediate arousal she felt.

  “No? Ah well, kneel there, then and I will replace those handcuffs with something more suitable and permanent.”

  Acutely conscious of the crop still in his hand, Hazel went to her knees and gave a great shudder of despair as he reached underneath the shelf and pulled out a box identical to the one which had contained her slave collar.

  He opened it and took out a pair of gleaming steel wrist cuffs and she moaned softly as he told her, “These match your collar, slave. I had them made at the same time. Part of a set, you know. They will look good on you and will hold you quite easily when I clip them together.”

  Hazel didn’t doubt it for a moment and her eyes filled with tears of misery as she realised that the cuffs, like her collar, would not be removable...at least, not by her.

  He moved behind her and snapped them on her wrists, then removed her handcuffs.

  Linked by steel, only an inch apart, her wrists were no less secure than when she had been handcuffed and she knew there was no point in trying to escape.

  Her despair grew deeper as he took a second pair of cuffs from the box and snapped them on her ankles then linked them together.

  Now, she could not even get up, let alone walk or try to run away and had to face the horrible fact that her new bonds removed even the smallest chance of escape.

  He bent down and in a single movement, tore the tape from her lips.

  “You may speak, slave. What do you think of my Bondage Hotel, then, now that you have seen almost everything?”

  Hazel licked her tingling lips, angry protests at his treatment of her hovering on the tip of her tongue.

  Protests that she never made, for one look at his determined face and cold eyes told her that she would be wasting her breath.

  Wasting her breath and, much more serious, annoying the Master who had cropped her, locked steel cuffs on her limbs and held a riding crop in his hand...a crop he had used once and would not hesitate to use again.

  Hazel choked back her anger and spoke softly as befitted, she hoped, a humble slave.

  “Master?” she began, “Wh...What is this place and...and must I r...r...really serve you and your g...guests as a sl...slave?”

  “Of course,” he replied calmly. “That is what you are and will remain. As for this place, it is my latest business venture, The Bondage Hotel, where men and women who enjoy bondage and domination can come to live out their desires. If, they can afford it.”

  Hazel gaped at him and stammered, “B...But...what about m...me?”

  “Well, what about you?” he repeated. “You are a slave and will serve my guests however they wish. They will have paid a great deal of money to come here and will, naturally, expect to enjoy unrestricted use of the hotel facilities. You are simply one of those facilities, as is the other slave who will be joining us in a fortnight.”

  His words and casual tone took Hazel’s breath away and she fought to regain control of her reeling brain as she learned of the horrifying part she was to play.

  “You...you can’t,” she gasped, “You w...w...wouldn’t. I won’t...won’t do it. I w...won’t let you.” But even as she protested, she felt the weight of her slave collar on her neck and the firm grip of steel on her limbs and knew that he could.

  Could and would.

  He stared down at her, his eyes boring into hers. “Oh, but I can,” he said flatly, “No matter what you may think, I know that you are a submissive. Even if you were not collared, you would still be a slave, needing only a true Master to recognise what you are, bind you and force you to submit to your nature. I was lucky to find you, slave, but if I had not, it was only a matter of time before another dominant subjugated you to his will. You need a Master like a flower needs water. If you doubt it, compare your life now to what it was before we met and then tell me that I am wrong.”

  His words were a direct challenge to Hazel and she sought for exactly the right reply to prove to him that she was not the submissive slave he imagined her to be.

  Her brain raced, but to her stunned despair and disbelief, the words would not come.

  Instead, her belly surged with unwanted heat, her sex oozed wetly and her nipples engorged as her failure to answer his challenge left her with no defence against the treacherous betrayal of her body.

  “No,” she whispered despairingly. “No, please. It...It can’t be tr...true.” Her soft green eyes grew round as she saw the erect quivering of her nipples and her shoulders slumped as she was forced to confront the obvious arousal of her steel fettered nudity. “B...But...I...I can’t h...help how I f...feel.”

  She tore her eyes from her aroused body and stared around wildly, as if seeking help where there was none, then raised her face to her unsmiling Master.

  Tears streaked her fa
ce as she sobbed. “H...How could you kn...know? How could you know I was...was a sub...submissive?” she begged plaintively. “B...But I am. I’m a sl...slave, a sub...submissive slave and I must o...obey.” Her head sagged down onto her chest as emotion overwhelmed her.

  Her Master turned to snatch a large ball gag from the shelf, then seized a hank of her long red hair and bent her backwards, her scream cut off as the leather ball was crammed into her mouth.

  Ruthlessly silenced and bound hand and foot, Hazel could only writhe impotently as his hands clamped on her swollen breasts and his fingers rolled and tweaked her nipples to send her arousal zooming beyond her ability to resist.

  His hand knotted in her hair a second time and bent her spine into a hollow curve, then, with her breasts and belly helplessly presented, his lips and tongue feasted on her throbbing nipples until she screamed for mercy into the massive sphere filling her mouth.

  When, and only when he decided to end the torment of her breasts, he picked her up in his arms and carried her over to the rack and lay her on her back on the hard wood of the top.

  Releasing her ankles only to knot ropes to her cuffs, he spread her legs wide and plunged his rigid erection into the wet heat of her sex.

  Hazel screamed shrilly as he took her, her writhing body juddering to the merciless plundering of her belly and when his hands gripped her buttocks and raised her up to allow his masculinity to penetrate straight to the very core of her being, she climaxed volcanically, her frenzied contractions releasing floods of love juices over his deeply entrenched shaft as she came and came as the submissive slave his dominance forced her to be.

  She never had the slightest chance to resist him or to hold back the orgasm he imposed upon her and as his shaft pulsed to send his spend jetting into her ravaged belly, a second devastating orgasm shook her like a rag doll.

  He slid from her spasming belly, dressed himself and walked from the room without a word or a glance, leaving Hazel bound to the rack and unable to free herself.

  A full hour went by and as her body calmed from its frenzied surrender, Hazel twisted and turned but could not loosen her bondage and, at last, gave up her fruitless struggles.

  Lying passive and totally demoralised, Hazel was forced to accept her fate.

  She wore a slave collar, her steel cuffs could not be slipped or escaped, she was neck leashed with chain and she was imprisoned in a building specifically designed to cater for the whims of bondage Masters.

  Her situation was hopeless and Hazel knew it.

  Forced to submit by one utterly dominant Master, she would inevitably be forced to submit to other Masters who would come to the hotel and there was nothing she could do to save herself.

  The stark choices were as simple as they were frightening.

  She could either give her submission and obedience to any Master who desired her...or she could resist and fight against her enslavement for as long as she could.

  If she resisted, she would be punished and forced to submit and obey, but if she did not, she would become the helpless sex slave of an unknown number of dominant Masters.

  Either way, the end result would be the same.

  Given the alternatives, there was only one sensible decision.

  Hazel took a deep breath and resigned herself to a life of bondage, sexual servitude and obedience.

  As a collared, enslaved “facility” in the Bondage Hotel run by her Master.

  Chapter Four

  In the two short weeks after first entering the door of the Bondage Hotel and being forced to accept her Master’s absolute power over her, Hazel learned to become the submissive and obedient slave that he had somehow known she had the potential to be.

  Neck leashed at all times and with her wrist cuffs locked either behind her back or in front of her belly, she underwent the arduous and often painful training that transformed her from a frightened captive into an instantly responsive slave.

  As she grew accustomed to her collar and what it represented, Hazel slowly began to accept her enslavement and even to take a measure of humble pride from the knowledge that she had been found sufficiently desirable for men to want to possess her.

  She had not wanted to become a real slave, but she had fallen into the grip of powers far greater than her own and had no choice in the matter.

  That knowledge comforted her and helped her to endure the humiliation of having to obey her Master, but it had the secondary effect of undermining the last vestiges of her will to resist.

  After all, she reasoned to herself in her locked room, what was the point of making futile gestures?

  They would only get her punished and certainly wouldn’t change his attitude towards her.

  As far as he was concerned, she was a slave and whether she liked what she was or hated it was of no importance.

  Her wishes did not matter...only her obedience and her submission.

  From her first day in the hotel when he eventually returned to release her from the bondage dungeon, she was always made to kneel when first in his presence and, when permitted to speak, had to address him as Master.

  When she accepted these simple rules, he began to introduce others.

  First, he made her spread her knees and pull her shoulders back when she knelt to him, the actions tautening her body and displaying her shamefully.

  Then, he made her display in a similar manner when standing, so that every inch of her nudity was exposed to his gaze and instantly available should he wish to touch her.

  At his command, she was forced to toy with her own breasts and sex until she became highly aroused and on the brink of climax...but then, at a second command, had to take her hands from her quivering body and hold herself utterly immobile until he ordered her to complete her submission by bringing herself to orgasm while he watched.

  Not that she was always allowed to satisfy her passions.

  Sometimes, and she never knew when, he simply locked her wrist cuffs behind her and left her in need, denying her the satisfaction she craved.

  When he dined, he made her serve him on her knees and when his appetite was satisfied, Hazel allowed to eat...but only after submitting to having her arms bound behind her back. She either had to ask to be hand fed or suffer the indignity of lapping her food from her bowl like a pet animal.

  Nor was she permitted to ignore her domestic duties.

  There was his bed to be made, his suite to be kept immaculate, his food to be prepared and his dishes to be washed, all to the standard of perfection he demanded.

  Even after all these, she still had to satisfy his desires in bed. This, perhaps, was the hardest task of all, for he used her as a full slave demanding more and still more from her until her helplessly bound body leapt and writhed and juddered to his touch and his lips and she screamed for mercy behind the gag he packed into her mouth.

  Hazel’s quite natural objections to the imposition of the very first rule upon her was greeted with stony inflexibility and when, unwisely, she persisted in her arguments, her ruthless Master resolved the dispute by locking her ankle cuffs together...her wrists were already locked behind her back...and cropping her naked buttocks.

  Even before the first stinging blow landed, Hazel realised her mistake and squealed a promise to obey, but her Master had no intention of letting her off so lightly.

  “It was not for a slave to question a Master,” he reminded her coldly as his crop painted an intersecting web of burning red stripes across her bottom and thighs. “Her function, her only function, was to obey and submit to the will of Masters and she had clearly not yet understood that fact. If she continued to misunderstand, he warned her, she could expect to be disciplined many more times in the future.”

  Writhing on the ground at his feet, her bottom on fire from her punishment, Hazel moaned and sobbed in pained anguish as his merciless crop taught her the error of her ways.

  In both physical and mental torment, she begged and pleaded to be allowed to obey his rules, promisin
g to do anything he ordered, display her body in any position he wished, submit willingly and fully if only he would take pity on her.

  When, at last, he did so, Hazel knew herself to be fully enslaved, her body subject to the harsh discipline of her Master and her only fragile defence, that of instant and perfect obedience.

  Never again would she question or defy a Master’s order, no matter how shameful or outrageous, for to do so must result in consequences she dared neither risk nor even contemplate.

  In the centre of the brightly lit gymnasium, Hazel stood motionless, her wrists clasped behind her, legs spread and her spine hollowed to present her body in the pose of a submissive slave.

  Tethered by chain to the ceiling track, she awaited her Master’s orders.

  Orders she would obey exactly and without hesitation, conscious, as always, that his crop was ready to punish any sign of reluctance on her part.

  As she watched him adjust the settings on the static running track to her left, her belly simmered with the soft warmth of anticipation of what was to come...

  For five days in a row, she had seen him do the same thing and knew that when he was ready, she would be ordered to step on to the machine, her wrist cuffs would be clipped to the guard-rails and he would set it in motion.

  As the track beneath her feet began to revolve, she would have to walk forward at a steady pace which would gradually then increase to a brisk jog.

  She was not worried, after all she was young and fit and actually liked the exercise as well as rather enjoying the sight and feel of her firm, naked breasts bouncing rhythmically as she jogged.

  Knowing that her Master also enjoyed the sight of her body as she exercised and was certain to let his hands roam over her breasts and buttocks as she ran, added considerably to the glow in her belly and gave a deliciously submissive edge to her efforts. She had to make herself concentrate on maintaining her steady pace, even while he aroused her.

  On previous occasions, his touch had often caused her to stumble and lose her rhythm, but his sharp rebukes and the considerably sharper bite of his crop across her bottom soon taught her to attend to her work in spite of his deliberate distractions.