Melinda and the Master
Page 21
'You'll do the hair?' she asked.
Cybele nodded and the woman hurried out.
Back in the cell, laid out on the mattress were a pair of thin white gloves, what looked like a nylon body stocking and a pair of very high-heeled shoes.
'Put the gloves on. They're to stop you laddering the nylon.'
Melinda obeyed. Cybele picked up the body stocking. In fact it was not only a body stocking, but a garment that covered the entire body from neck to toe; a catsuit made from the same sort of sheer nylon used for stockings.
Cybele showed Melinda how to get into it, stepping in through a large slit in the back of the bodice. It took minutes before the nylon, woven with Lycra so that it held and shaped the figure as well as covering it, was smoothed over the curves of Melinda's body. The material was so sheer, it hid nothing. Only the opening in the back appeared to have any sort of seam, where tiny studs had been sewn to fasten it together.
Cybele brushed Melinda's hair and ordered her into the shoes. She stripped off the thin gloves.
'Put your hands together in front of you,' she said. Melinda obeyed, suddenly remembering how Cybele's big body had looked, naked and glistening with sweat. She felt a shiver of pleasure. Strangely the patches nestling under her breasts reacted too, like new erogenous zones. Her nipples puckered.
Cybele noticed. 'Getting excited, are we?' She was strapping a thick leather cuff around each of Melinda's wrists. The cuffs were heavily padded on the inside and joined by a sturdy chrome chain of just two links.
Once the cuffs were in place, the familiar command was issued.
'Follow me,' Cybele said, setting off out of the cell. Outside the stable block they took a new direction, to a part of the house where Melinda had not been before. A long corridor, carpeted in rich green Wilton with wood-panelled walls, led to a sitting room from which Melinda could see the beautifully tended gardens and sweeping lawns. She could see two gardeners working in a bed of shrubbery. A door opened onto another more austere corridor, at the end of which were a pair of panelled doors, one of which was already open. As Cybele led her through the door, Melinda realised her heart was beating rapidly and her breathing coming in shallow pants.
The room was about the size of a tennis court. Apart from the space for the doors, the walls were completely covered in heavy dark blue velvet drapes. The floor was tiled in white marble. At equal intervals on either side of the room, six circular daises were arranged. They were about a foot off the floor and two feet in diameter, painted in a blue that matched the drapes. Above each hung a white rope, to the end of which was attached a chrome hook. The ropes disappeared into the ceiling. The ceiling also housed rows of spotlights grouped to illuminate each dais.
On one of the daises was a long-haired blonde. Her hands, imprisoned in cuffs identical to those Melinda was wearing, were pulled up above her head by the chrome hook and white rope. Her outfit was identical too, her ample body - large fleshy tits, a big plum-shaped arse, wide shapely thighs - straining against the tight transparent nylon and Lycra.
Marion stood by the dais opposite the blonde. She wore a black business suit and white blouse, with her hair pinned up to her head.
'Over here,' she said to Cybele. Melinda was led up and onto the dais.
'Hands above your head,' Marion ordered, not looking at her directly.
Melinda stretched her arms. The hook was just above her head. Marion stepped onto the dais and slipped the hook into the chrome links of the cuffs. She stepped down again. A small metal pedal was set in the floor by each dais. Marion's foot pressed the pedal and the rope wound upwards with a whirr of electric motors, until Melinda's arms were at full stretch above her head.
Almost immediately, the door opened again and Selene led a third woman in, a petite and freckled redhead, her body much less lush than the two blondes already in position, but nevertheless attractive. Selene attached the rope to the cuffs and operated the pedal until the new arrival too was stretched out on a dais, her body displayed under the tight catsuit.
It was some minutes before Hera brought in a fourth woman, an olive-skinned brunette, her breasts smaller than those of the other three, her pubis as dark as her long black hair. Of all the women, the brunette seemed least at ease. She refused to put her hands above her head and Hera had to enlist Cybele's help. Once she was stretched like the others, however, her rebelliousness seemed to disappear and she lapsed into a sullen acceptance.
Marion and the chatelaines left the room.
Melinda looked at the other women. She had not been aware of anyone else in the house, but it was obvious the stable block was equipped to take more than one occupant. Had these women been entertained by the Master on the nights Melinda was left alone and bound in her cell? They were each beautiful in their own way.
She looked at their bodies and saw them looking at her. It was the olive-skinned brunette who particularly attracted her. She caught her dark brown eyes, but knew better than to speak. Each woman obeyed the rule of silence, even the brunette who had struggled, though each clearly yearned to talk.
A movement caught Melinda's eye. She looked up to see a video camera moving position. She examined the ceiling. Four cameras were placed in each corner of the room.
How long they were left there, their shoulders strained and taut, their muscles aching, waiting, it was impossible to know. Like everything else in the house, time was something over which they had no control.
In fact, it was an hour before the Master opened the door and strode purposefully into the room, followed by Marion and the chatelaines. At the far end of the room, the end opposite the doors, was a raised platform on which was a long desk littered with telephones. To the side of the desk was a lectern.
The Master took up position behind the lectern. Melinda saw one of the video cameras training itself on him.
Each of the chatelaines sat behind the desk, with a telephone in front of them.
'Gentlemen. Welcome. Welcome,' the Master said, looking up into the camera. 'You have all received the videos. So without further ado shall we start with C.' Marion took a large yellow card from the desk and went to stand by the brunette.
'C, gentlemen. In need of training as you will have seen. What am I bid?' Again, the Master looked into the camera as he spoke.
Melinda could see that set into the lectern was a computer display. This was an auction. They were being auctioned! No wonder the Master was going to miss her.
Bids appeared on the computer, scrolling up on the screen in order, the largest at the top.
'Is that it, gentlemen? Very well.' The Master called out a number and Hera picked up the phone and dialled.
'Yes,' she said, as soon as the connection was made. 'Fifty confirmed,' she said to the Master.
'Right, gentlemen, fifty confirmed. Any advance?' He looked into the camera then down at the computer screen. 'All done at fifty then,' he said, like an experienced auctioneer.
Melinda's mind was reeling. There was no doubt about what was happening now. The Master was going to sell her, like a valuable painting, to the highest bidder.
The bidding for the redhead was over quickly.
Selene was given a number to dial and confirmed a price of twenty, though twenty what was not specified.
'And now, gentlemen, we come to M...'
Marion took a yellow M from the desk and came to stand by Melinda. Melinda sensed a reluctance in her step, just as she did in the Master's voice.
The Master's eyes scanned the screen. He gave Cybele a number to dial. It was a long number.
'Seventy-two confirmed,' Cybele announced when she got through.
'Seventy-two confirmed, gentlemen. Any advance?'
He looked down at the screen set in the lectern. Immediately, he saw a change, and gave Hera a number to dial.
'Ninety confirmed,' Hera declared, as soon as she was connected.
'Ninety confirmed,' the Master repeated into the camera.
'One hundred,' Cybele
said, her ear still to the phone.
'One ten,' Hera intoned.
'One twenty.'
'One forty.'
Cybele said nothing this time. She put the phone down.
'One forty, gentlemen,' the Master said, looking at the computer. 'All done at one forty.'
They moved on to the other blonde. She reached seventy.
'Thank you, gentlemen. Please fax your instructions immediately. That concludes the business for today.'
'There was very stiff competition for you,' the Master said. 'The Egyptian, well I thought he was going to bid more. But the Spaniard came up trumps. I know him, Melinda, you'll be safe with him.'
Melinda was naked again. Hera had taken her back to the cell, stripped her out of the catsuit and taken her to the bathroom where she had been allowed to soak in a bath, easing her aching shoulders and tortured muscles. After she had dried herself she had been led out into the gardens, across an immaculately manicured lawn, to what looked like a large garage complex. Inside, Melinda found herself in a neatly arranged workshop at the back of a large garage. A van was parked in the garage, its rear doors open. In the centre of the workshop floor were two large wooden boxes, for all the world like coffins.
The Master had come in behind them and now sat on a plain wooden chair, his eyes, as ever, seeming to bore into Melinda's soul. 'I think one forty is a record too,' he concluded, though he did not smile.
Cybele was already in the workshop. She lifted the top off one of the boxes. Inside, Melinda could see the outline of a human form, marked out by heavy padding on all sides, especially around the head. Numerous leather straps lay unbuckled in the box.
'Put these on,' Hera said. She handed Melinda a pair of plain black panties, made from silky nylon.
Melinda took them in her hands. As she pulled them up over her thighs she realised it had been weeks since she had worn anything to cover her sex, with the exception of the transparent catsuit earlier today. It felt strange. She smoothed the panties into place.
Her hands were trembling. The box frightened her. Really frightened her. She looked at the Master, trying to use her eyes to show him her fear. She did not want his last memory of her to be disobedience. She wanted to submit, but at the moment her fear was overwhelming her.
The Master had expected her reaction. He had seen it before in many other women.
'You have one final request,' he said. 'Is there anything you would like?'
The question was so unexpected, Melinda could hardly find the words to answer.
'You're allowed to speak,' he said.
She wanted to beg him not to send her away. But that was pointless.
'My breasts,' she stuttered. 'What have you done...?'
Most of them asked the same question. They were ready. Cybele came around behind her and lifted her breasts up, holding them just as the plaster had held them last night. Hera held a mirror, angling it so Melinda could see. Centred neatly beneath each breast, Melinda read the letter W in a purplish ink. The mirror inverted the letter. It was of course an M.
'Master...' Melinda murmured.
'Melinda and the Master,' the Master corrected. 'Now you must get into the box.'
'I'm frightened, Master.' It was the only time she had spoken unbidden.
'Don't be. You have nothing to be frightened about.'
She looked into his eyes. They were hypnotic. She felt her fear melt. He was her Master.
Unsteadily, she stood in the box then slotted herself into its padding. It was a tight fit.
Hera and Cybele fastened the straps, endless numbers of straps holding every part of her body tight.
When finally they were finished, the Master came and knelt by the box. He had a white pill in his hand. 'This will make you sleep,' he said. His voice sounded far away, muffled by the padding that held her head firmly on both sides.
He put the pill in her mouth. She held it on her tongue. She could spit it out. She could scream and scream and they would release her, let her go, out of the box, out of the house, out of the system. It was her choice. It had been her choice to put on the strange bra and knickers in her bedroom weeks ago; her choice to walk through the gates; her choice to be bound and spread and fucked and sucked and buggered. Her choice.
There was no turning back now. It was time for the final submission. Melinda swallowed the pill. She belonged to the Master. To be bought and sold like anything else he owned.
She saw the two chatelaines manoeuvring the lid of the box. Then it was too much of an effort to keep her eyes open and she let darkness engulf her. There, before sleep overtook her, she felt her body pulsing, a damp wetness spreading over her sex, the last thing she was conscious of.
She had no idea where she would wake up, but she knew what would be done to her when she did. That was the point. To be done to, not to do.
-oOo-
Enjoy more of Melinda's BDSM adventures by Susanna Hughes, all exclusively published as eBooks by us at Avid, including: Melinda and Esmeralda, Melinda and the Roman, Melinda and Sophia, and...
Melinda and the Countess
'How pretty you look: so naked, so vulnerable. I'm sure you know that you will be punished if you do not obey my commands without question. Then again, I may have you punished anyway...'
Melinda, the gorgeous green-eyed submissive, is being sent to her new owner. An owner whose home is an exotic chateau to the south of Paris, with all the trappings of a devoted practitioner of discipline. Someone who insists on the very highest standards in her slaves - and has devised rigorous training programmes to ensure she gets them.
Melinda is about to meet her first Mistress, and the Countess is not an easy woman to please.
-oOo-
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