Submissives of the Colonel

by Charles Graham

  “No,” Arabella replied quickly. “I..I would rather stay, Randolph. Really.”

  “Very well, my love, if that is what you wish. Then make your report, Captain. Where did you find the rogues?”

  “Seventy miles Southeast, sir. Camped in one of the valleys near the Nargal River. About twenty men under the command of Razak, sir.”

  “Razak,” Colonel Mayhew interrupted. “That scoundrel. I should have guessed.”

  “I went alone, as ordered, sir, with the ransom for your wife and Miss Wallace; but, unfortunately, I was too late. Miss Wallace was no longer in the camp, and I was told she had already been sold, sir.”

  “Sold? The poor creature. Do we know who bought her? Might we have a chance to rescue her or buy her back?”

  “I regret to report that the answer is no, sir. Razak professed ignorance, and I could get nothing more from him. And I fear that he would not release your wife until I handed over all of the ten thousand rupees, sir.”

  “What? All ten thousand?”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  “Oh, not your fault, my boy. You did everything you could, I’m sure. Mrs Mayhew and I owe you a debt of gratitude for the risk you took. Isn’t that right, my love? We are most grateful to Captain Adams, are we not?”

  Arabella couldn’t trust herself to speak, too appalled by the glib ease with which Adams had deceived her husband. She longed to expose him as the liar he was and have him punished for abandoning Belinda to her awful fate, but she could not do so without condemning herself at the same time. She must go along with his lies, and he knew that she must.

  Arabella forced herself to speak, “Yes, Randolph. I..I am gr..grateful to the gallant Captain, but I’m so very s..sorry for poor Belinda. Isn’t there s..something we can do to save her?”

  “You heard Captain Adams, darling. I’m afraid it’s hopeless.”

  “Quite impossible, I’m afraid, ma’am,” Adams agreed. “I’m sure you realise that, don’t you?”

  Arabella stared at him in horror then buried her face in her hands, her shoulders quivering as she sobbed for Belinda and her own treachery and her unwilling connivance in the lies surrounding her enslavement and ransoming….and for the knowledge that the young officer controlled her completely and could destroy her marriage and her life if she refused to obey and serve him.

  “You are distraught, my love,” her husband said sympathetically. “Let me call a servant to show you to your room. You will feel so much better after a good sleep.”

  “Yes, Randolph,” she agreed sadly. “There is nothing I can do here. I’ll go to my room.”

  Mayhew raised his voice, “Sergeant Chaudry!” In seconds, a slim, immaculately uniformed Indian marched into the room and snapped to attention.

  “Mrs Mayhew is a little over-wrought, Sergeant. Escort her to her room, would you? And make sure she has everything she needs.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Sergeant replied. “Anything else, sir?”

  “No, thank you, Sergeant. That will be all.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Chaudry reached down to offer Arabella his arm; and, as she rose to her feet, his eyes widened fractionally as he saw the broad band of pale flesh around her throat where her collar had protected her skin from the sun.

  He had made it his business to be close enough to overhear what had been said in the room before the Colonel had called for him, and he knew Razak’s reputation. The pretty young woman on his arm had worn a collar; and, although the two officers had either not noticed or did not understand what that meant, Chaudry had no doubts. The Colonel’s wife had been enslaved by Razak.

  She had lied when she had told her husband that she had been well treated. Razak hated the British and would not have missed the opportunity to humiliate one of his enemies…especially one as attractive as the brunette…and as he led the girl to her room, he wondered how long she would be able to keep her secret from her husband?

  Despite the efforts of the British to stamp out slavery, there were still thousands of women in India who were held captive to serve their Masters as slaves. He himself knew of a number within a short walk of the garrison and had availed himself of their services many times, even though it was a court martial offence.

  The British could never succeed in their attempts to rid India of slaves, no matter how hard they tried, for the enslavement of women had been a tradition for centuries and was a simple fact of life, even though the British did not want to accept it.

  Chaudry hid a smile.

  The British did not know what they were missing, for slaves were trained to bring exquisite pleasure to men; and, as he remembered his visits to the well hidden places where such women were held, his groin tingled with heat as he imagined his Colonel’s wife naked in her collar, her body writhing beneath him as she struggled to satisfy his lust.

  Sunk in despair, Arabella noticed nothing; and, as he escorted her to her room and left her, she threw herself onto the bed and wept in anguish, her tears flowing for Belinda, for her deceived husband and herself, and the submission she would be forced to give to Captain Adams…never imagining, for one moment, that Sergeant Chaudry already suspected her shameful secret and would be watching her closely, biding his time and waiting to see if she made a fatal slip that would strip her of her husband’s protection…and of her clothes, her hopes, and her freedom.

  Back in the room, Colonel Mayhew shook his head sadly. “It must have been terrible for her. Bad enough to be held captive by those brigands, but to see her friend sold as a slave…”

  “Awful, sir. She will need time to recover.”

  “I’m afraid so. Naturally, I will do my best to look after her, but as you know, Captain, I spend much of my time away from here. It will not be easy.”

  “No, sir. But if I might make a suggestion…?”

  “Go ahead, my boy. You have earned the right by your bravery in ransoming her from Razak.”

  “Well, sir, if you will permit me, I should like to help. Perhaps when you are away, sir? I would be honoured to do whatever I can.”

  “A capital idea, Philip. Capital, my boy. Yes, certainly. Thank you, I would be most grateful, and I am sure Mrs Mayhew will appreciate a strong man to lean on, eh?”

  Adams masked his pleasure with a nod. “Then it is settled, sir. I will do everything in my power to aid your wife to return to normal as quickly as possible. Now, if there is nothing more, sir, I should like to return to my quarters.”

  “Of course. You must need sleep. Off you go.”

  Adams saluted and strode from the room and the worried Colonel never saw the cold grin on his subordinate’s face or heard his silent chuckle as he savoured the taste of his triple victory. Belinda, who had spurned him, was chained as a slave in Razak’s camp. Ranee, his own personal slave, paid for with Belinda’s ransom, waited in his quarters to serve him in any way he commanded. While Arabella, trapped in a web of lies and guilt, had no option but to continue to deceive her husband, leading a double life as wife and slave, her body forfeit to him whenever he chose to order her to submit to his will.

  He fully intended to help her return to normal…normal, that was, for a bondage slave. His erection strained pleasantly against his uniform. Life was sweet, and he anticipated it becoming even sweeter very soon—when the Colonel went on one of his frequent tours and Arabella joined Ranee as his tightly bound and helplessly subjugated sex-slave.

  Chapter Eleven

  Some three weeks after Arabella’s reunion with her husband, Colonel Mayhew turned to his second in command, Captain Adams. “I wish I didn’t have to carry out this damned inspection, Philip, but I really must check our readiness in Bharat and Ramali. Poor Arabella still hasn’t fully recovered, I’m sorry to say. For some reason, she seems almost afraid of me, even though I’ve done everything I can to reassure her that she was not to blame for her capture. I just can’t seem to get close to her, and I can’t help but wonder whether her experiences have…I don’t know…turned her ag
ainst me somehow. She even seems frightened of you, despite your rescue of her. I have to tell you, my boy, I’m very worried.”

  Captain Adams knew exactly why Arabella was behaving so strangely but was not about to explain to his Colonel, “I agree, sir,” he replied. “Perhaps she needs more time. Try not to worry, sir, I’ll be here and will take good care of her while you’re away.”

  Mayhew sighed heavily, “Thank you, Philip. I’m sure you will. I’ll leave her in your capable hands, then, until I come back in ten days.” He climbed onto his horse and, as Adams saluted, he added, “Take over, Captain.”

  Adams waited until the patrol trotted out of the compound then grinned evilly and strode towards his Colonel’s quarters. He had ten days to bend Arabella to his will, and he did not propose to waste a single minute of it.

  When he reached the house, an Indian servant opened the door for him. “Good morning, Sahib. What may I do for you?”

  “Where is Mrs Mayhew?”

  “In the Garden room, Sahib.”

  “Ask her to join me here then get out. I don’t want to see you back here for ten days, or you’ll be looking for a new job.”

  The servant hesitated then saw the expression on Adams’s face and thought better of arguing. “As you wish, Captain. I will leave immediately and return in ten days, Sahib.”

  “Not before!” Adams snapped, and the Indian nodded and hurried away obediently.

  Adams tapped his boot with his riding crop as he waited but, in less than two minutes, heard the sound of light footsteps and turned.

  Arabella saw who was waiting for her, and her hand went to her mouth. “Y…You,” she gasped. “Wh…What do you want? Why are you h…here?”

  Adams gave a cold smile. “Your husband is on his way to Bharat, madam,” he replied flatly. “And I am here to collect a slave.”

  “No. No, please,” the horrified brunette whispered. “You can’t mean it.”

  He stared into her shocked eyes. “Oh, but I do,” he retorted. “Unless you would rather I told your husband what I really found at Razak’s camp.”

  “No,” Arabella whimpered instantly. “Not that. Please, Captain, I beg you. Don’t, please!” her last “please,” emerging as a high pitched squeal of desperation that brought a mocking grin to his lips.

  “Then obey, madam, as the slave you were and will soon be again.”

  Arabella gaped at him for a frozen moment, then her slim shoulders drooped in defeat and her eyes filled with tears as she understood that she had no choice.

  Slowly, trembling with fear and anguish, she went to her knees before him and arched her body in the display position she had been taught, her voice shaking as she stared up into his hot eyes, “I o…obey as a sl…slave,” she sobbed then gasped the one word that confirmed her actions and made her a slave for the second time, “Master.”

  He gazed down at her then nodded. “You submit prettily, slave,” he sneered. “As we both knew you would. I shall be in my quarters in fifteen minutes. You will go there now and find my other slave, Ranee, who is waiting for you. You will remove all of your clothing then kneel before her and ask her to bind you with the manacles I was thoughtful enough to keep for you. All except your slave collar. That I will place on your throat myself when you have requested me to enslave you fully. And then, slave, if you are sufficiently pleasing, I may permit you to serve me,” his voice hardened. “Is that all understood, slave?”

  Arabella gaped at him, too stunned and terrified to answer; but, as he raised his whip, she squealed, “Yes, Master. I understand, Master,” before the leather could punish her.

  He lowered his crop. “Then go, slave,” he ordered calmly. “You now have fourteen minutes.”

  She lurched to her feet, her eyes wide as she scanned his face for any trace of pity or compassion; and then, with a choked sob, she ran to the door and out into the hot sunshine, fleeing from a slavery that she carried with her wherever she went and which she could not escape.

  Adams pulled out a silver case from his pocket, extracted a thin cigar, lit it, and then blew out a plume of aromatic smoke as he consulted his pocket watch. Arabella had thirteen minutes to transform herself from a wife into a slave, just enough time for him to finish his cigar and stroll to his quarters where she had better be kneeling in her chains and ready to submit.

  He sent his crop hissing through the air. If she was not, he would discipline her thoroughly. Even more thoroughly than he had always intended to discipline her anyway…

  Arabella hurried through the compound, oblivious to the stamp of feet and shouted orders as she skirted the parade ground where three ranks of Indian soldiers drilled to the commands of their Corporal, her eyes misty with tears and seeing only a shameful vista of submission to Captain Adams and Ranee. Without conscious volition on her part, her feet carried her to the quiet, tree-shaded area of the compound where Adams had his quarters; and, as she opened the gate in the high wall that surrounded his house and entered the courtyard, she found Ranee waiting for her.

  Clad in a long, diaphanous robe that clung to her body and revealed every curve, the tall, slim Indian slave carried a set of iron manacles and a slave collar in her left hand; and, as her white teeth gleamed in a triumphant smile, Arabella shuddered in despair.

  “Welcome to our Master’s home, slave,” Ranee grinned. “You know what you must do, I think, so close the gate and obey the Master’s orders.”

  Arabella opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again, realising the futility of trying to argue or persuade Ranee to help her. The Indian girl must have her own orders to obey and would not dare to go against her Master, even if she wanted to which she clearly didn’t.

  There would be no help for Arabella there, and the trembling brunette could hardly blame the girl, for she knew from her own experience that only a very foolish slave would try to defy a Master.

  With a soft moan, she turned and closed the gate, cutting herself off from the safe, orderly world outside and committing herself to the nightmare of submission she had brought about by her betrayal of Belinda and the web of lies she had spun in order to keep the truth from her husband.

  Ranee jingled the manacles, and then crooked a beckoning finger; and, in response to the unspoken order, Arabella shuffled forward.

  “You had best hurry, slave. If the Master returns and you are not ready, he will be displeased.”

  Arabella’s eyes widened…she knew only too well what form a Master’s displeasure would take…and her hands rose to the laces of her dress. With fingers that shook, she fumbled at the knots; and, as they loosened, she slid the dress down to her waist then unhooked the front of her bodice, Ranee watching silently as the miserable Englishwoman undressed herself.

  After a momentary hesitation, Arabella peeled the bodice from her full breasts and dropped it in the dust, her dress following as she worked it down over her hips and stepped out of the circle of crumpled material. Naked to the waist, Arabella sobbed as she pulled her frilly, knee-length bloomers from her body and kicked off her shoes, her pale body gleaming in the hot sunlight.

  Ranee chuckled and pointed to the ground at her feet, her meaning unmistakable. With no alternative, Arabella sank to her knees and clasped her hands behind her back, her spine hollowing and her thighs spreading wide as she displayed herself in the pose of a slave, her naked body totally exposed and vulnerable.

  “You have a request, slave.” It was not a question, and Arabella blushed in humiliation, knowing what she must do.

  “I…I ask to be b...b..bound as a sl..slave, Mistress,” she whispered softly, gazing miserably up at the tall Indian girl.

  Ranee sprang into action, racing behind her; and, as cool, heavy irons snapped shut on Arabella’s wrists and ankles, confining her helplessly, the brunette shivered and gasped as unwanted slave heat surged unstoppably into her belly.

  Slave heat that raged higher as Ranee laughed down into her shocked eyes and sneered, “You are hot, slut. You want a ma
n. I can see it in your eyes. Can your husband not satisfy you, or have you discovered that you can only please and be pleased when you are in the chains and at the mercy of a truly dominant Master who will not hesitate to whip you if you fail to serve him as a full slave?”

  Arabella’s eyes widened in shock and horror, her belly churning with awesome need as the girl’s words struck home with shattering power. Since being ransomed, Arabella had tried…really tried with every fibre of her being…to regain the close relationship she had once shared with her husband. To love him and honour him as she had vowed at her wedding, trying to suppress her vivid memories of Razak and his men enslaving her, binding her, whipping and taking her as they used her body ruthlessly and forced her to submit as their helpless slave….but it had been impossible, his very compassion and generosity increasing her shame and humiliation until she could not bear the guilt of her betrayal and deceit or the sadness in his eyes as she had been unable to respond to him and treat him as well as he surely deserved.

  Trembling in horrible, dreadful anguish, she realised that Ranee had guessed the awful truth that Arabella had not even dared to acknowledge in her own mind. When the stunning explanation of why she could not love Randolph as he loved her crashed through her reeling brain, Arabella groaned in black despair and felt hot juices lubricate her groin to the dreadful revelation that she was…must be…a naturally and permanently submissive sex-slave! It accounted for all her problems with Randolph but opened up a totally appalling prospect for her future. For if she could never suppress the shameful desires that filled her dreams at night and tormented her by day with visions of chains and whips and dominant, merciless Masters, she would never, ever, be able to regain the life she had known with her husband.

  Never, ever, be able to share her thoughts, her feelings with him as a wife shares with a husband. Never, ever, be able to relax fully in his bed, lest she betray the truth about herself.