Submissives of the Colonel

by Charles Graham

  With frightening clarity, Arabella knew beyond question that she would only ever be a hot, hopelessly responsive slave; and, as her eyes mirrored that fact, she whispered numbly, “I…I didn’t want to b..believe it, Mistress, and I tried to f…fight. But I c..c..can’t.” Ranee laughed with delight.

  “That’s it, isn’t it, slave? Even now, you still long for a Master to whip you and teach you to obey. I knew you were weak and pathetic when I was training you for Razak, but not even I expected you to become such a submissive little slut as that.”

  “Neither did I. But that just makes it even better.” Captain Adams stood at the gate; and, as Ranee fell to her knees, Arabella stared aghast at her blackmailer, her brain frozen with terror as she realised that he had seen and heard her admission. He pushed the gate shut, slamming a heavy bolt into its socket, and Arabella wrenched vainly at the iron manacles on her limbs as he strode over to her and surveyed her nudity.

  “Keep still, bitch!” he ordered harshly, and his crop slashed across her naked belly to enforce the command.

  Arabella hissed in pain as she was struck and arched her body back into the display position, forcing herself to ignore the stinging heat in her flesh as Adams resumed his scrutiny, a shameful longing coiling in her belly as she surrendered to his cruel dominance.

  “Submit to your Master,” he snapped. “Now!”

  “Please,” she whimpered piteously. “I’m afrai….Aaah! Owww! Mercy, Master, I beg you.” But his whip bit into her soft belly and seared across her thighs as he punished her disobedience. As Arabella screamed, he grated, “Now, I said, you little trollop!”

  “I submit, Master,” she yelped instantly as pain flared through her body. “I submit completely as your slave and beg to be collared, Master. Have mercy on your slave, Master.” Her eyes filled with tears of humiliation and fear as she begged to be enslaved.

  Adams clicked his fingers, and Ranee jumped to her feet. As she handed him Arabella’s slave collar and he clamped it around her slender throat, the weeping brunette sobbed in misery and anguish as her nipples stiffened and her sex oozed hot juices.

  He turned to Ranee, “So, you were her trainer, were you?”

  “Yes, Master,” the Indian girl replied, smiling.

  “Then you are responsible for her failure to submit immediately and will be punished alongside her. Strip and kneel with my other slave.”

  Ranee’s dark eyes opened wide, and her smile vanished as he spoke, then she tore the transparent robe from her body and sank to her knees beside Arabella, displaying herself as a slave.

  Adams chuckled with pleasure. “You are both my slaves,” he grinned. “And you will both serve me well. Release her ankles, Ranee, and take her to the cellar. Secure her with her arms raised and her legs spread and gag her. Then you can do the same to yourself, and I will join you when I am ready.”

  “It will be done, Master,” Ranee replied softly. “I am sorry for displeasing you, Master.”

  “You will be,” her Master retorted ominously. “Now get on with it.” He turned his back on the two slaves and walked into the house.

  Ranee wasted no time in releasing Arabella’s ankles and pulled the brunette to her feet, her hand seizing a hank of Arabella’s hair and dragging her into the house, hissing, “Remain silent, slut! Thanks to you, I am to be punished by the Master.”

  Wincing as her hair was tugged, Arabella had no choice but to follow the angry girl, wisely keeping her mouth firmly shut as she was taken down a long flight of steps to the underground room.

  The brick lined cellar was dimly lit, but not so dimly that Arabella could not see the iron rings that studded the floor and walls and the chains that dangled from the roof beams; and, as she visualised herself held captive in the gloomy vault, her belly quivered with submissive heat.

  Ranee pushed her beneath one of the chains. “Spread your legs, slut and don’t move. I’ll whip you myself if you even think of trying to fight me!”

  Arabella shuddered at the venom in her voice and stretched her ankles wide, her obedience fanning the flame of her helpless need as cool air played across the damp petals of her parted labia.

  “Wider!” Ranee demanded; and, as she attached heavy chains to hold Arabella’s legs shamefully open, the brunette trembled to the power of her building arousal.

  Unable to resist, she relaxed her jaws and a huge leather ball filled her mouth, gagging her as her wrists were released and pulled before her belly then lifted to the chain above her and clipped to it.

  Ranee moved to the left wall and tugged and as chain rattled through a pulley, Arabella’s arms were dragged inexorably higher until her head was trapped between her fully extended arms and she rose onto the balls of her feet, her whole body rigid with the tension of her bondage, her thighs gaping massively and her breasts drawn upwards. She was utterly helpless and utterly exposed and whimpered in shameful excitement as Ranee moved to stand in front of her, the Indian girl smiling cruelly as she recognised Arabella’s evident need.

  “Slut!” she sneered. “Randy little slave. The proud Colonel’s wife in chains and pleading to be used by a Master. I hope he whips you hard, slut. You deserve it for pretending to be what you are not. And when you crawl back to your husband, how will you explain the whip marks on your body, slave? Will you tell him you are a trained sex-slave and beg to serve him? I hope so; for, if he is a man, he will chain you himself and whip you until you crawl on your belly for the chance to lick his boots.”

  Humiliated by Ranee’s taunts, Arabella’s eyes bulged; and, as her brain pictured an intensely erotic image of her crawling in her chains to lick Randolph’s booted feet, her belly kicked with savage power.

  Ranee stretched out her hands and her index fingers gave a sharp upward flick to Arabella’s erect nipples. Just one, but it sent a jolt of unbearable arousal spearing into the brunette’s belly, and she screamed into her gag as a spurt of scalding love juices burst into her sex and her desire to submit intensified still further.

  “You are a slave and cannot hide it, can you?” Ranee chuckled. Then to Arabella’s dismay, she turned away and began to prepare herself for her Master’s return.

  She worked a hard leather gag into her mouth and buckled it tightly behind her neck, stretched her ankles wide, and bent to clip chains to her cuffs, then straightened and reached as high as she could to grip a chain that dangled above her head, leaving her Master only the simple task of clipping her wrists to the chain to complete her bondage.

  Facing each other, only a few feet apart, the two gagged slaves stared at each other’s nakedly presented bodies, Arabella held by the bonds placed on her by Ranee…the Indian girl held by her willing submission to her Master. Both awaiting his arrival and the absolute submission he would extract from them…

  Philip Adams strode into the cellar and, without a word, went to Ranee, clipping her cuffs to the chain then stretching her into the same bolt-upright posture as Arabella. Watched by two pairs of anxious eyes, he positioned himself between his gagged and helplessly bound slaves and took a long, wide strip of thin black leather from his belt, showing each frightened captive, in turn, that the leather split into six fingers halfway along its length.

  “I am informed that this will not mark you as severely as a crop or a normal whip,” he said cheerfully. “But I am assured that it is equally as efficient. I do not know if that is true, but I intend to find out. Right now.”

  With a sharp flick of his strong wrist, he sent the whip whistling across Ranee’s unprotected belly, his eyes intent as he watched her reaction. The crisp “thwack” of leather meeting flesh was echoed by her muffled wail; and, as six livid red blotches of heat flowered on her body and her eyes filled with pain and terrible dread, he chuckled and said softly, “It appears I was not misinformed. Excellent.”

  Bound within easy reach of their Master and his new toy, neither Arabella nor Ranee could evade the stinging lashes; and, as he swung the whip forehand and backhand, the six tho
ngs bit and snapped at their hopelessly exposed nudity, painting furiously smarting patches of searing fire onto their writhing bodies as each slave fought vainly to escape the merciless discipline imposed upon her, their muffled screams and shrieks ringing around the cellar as Adams enforced his will.

  Squealing in anguish, their bodies aflame with heat, the two punished captives surrendered helplessly as he thrust his extended fingers into their bellies, forcing devastating orgasms from each as the combination of torment and ecstasy drove them into shuddering, pulsing climaxes and their juices spewed into their sexes and over his fingers as their frantically spasming bellies convulsed in the deeply submissive responses of the trained sex-slaves that they both were.

  For Ranee, it was the inevitable consequence of her purchase by him and her submission was natural, willing, and hugely pleasurable…but for Arabella, it was not. Her submission was that of a chained, whipped, and terrified prisoner to a man she hated and feared. Her orgasm extracted from her against her will as a helpless slave and, though her climax had been equally as powerful and intense as that of Ranee, her forcible subjugation was appalling confirmation of her inability to resist not only her Master, but her own masochistic nature and her uncontrollable desire for bondage and domination. Desire unleashed by her experiences and training in Razak’s camp and reinforced by Adams’ ruthless manipulation of his knowledge of her guilt and shame to enslave her for his sexual gratification.

  Too late, Arabella realised that she should have thrown herself on her husband’s mercy the instant she had met him after her ransoming, telling him the truth and explaining that she had been too terrified to resist enslavement by Razak, that she had not wanted to submit to Adams but had been chained and defenceless, trusting that Randolph could forgive her and allow her to remain as his wife, working with him to try to repair the massive damage to their marriage.

  Foolishly, she had not, lying to him instead, hoping that he would never find out her humiliating secrets, deceiving him…and by so doing, delivering herself into the clutches of Captain Adams. Now, she could never go back, for Randolph would never trust her, perhaps not even believe her, for how could she make him understand that she was no longer able to control her body, that men like Razak and Adams could enslave her so completely and so easily, her passions binding her as strongly as their chains?

  In the gloomy cellar, her naked, whipped, chained body trembling in orgasm, Arabella wept in despair, a slave’s collar about her slim neck to mark what she had again become….and what she must be whenever her husband was away and Captain Adams, her new Master, ordered her to kneel before him to receive the chains that she could not help but desire and need.

  So it was as a slave that her sweating, writhing body arched and surrendered over and over again as her Master released Ranee and the two began a ruthless cycle of arousal and subjugation of their squealing, pleading victim, their fingers and lips and tongues exploring and invading every curve and hollow and recess of Arabella’s chained nudity until her flooded belly boiled and churned in near-continuous orgasms and long snakes of silvery love juices trickled from her sex and down her thighs to pool beneath her hugely straddled legs as she came and came again to the incredible sexual torment imposed upon her, her submissions interspersed with casual whippings as one or the other took a short break before returning to her shuddering body and beginning the cycle afresh.

  Arabella submitted totally to her Master, to Ranee, to the whip that scourged her flesh, to her chains, and to her own unbearable passion; and, as she plunged headlong into a bottomless pit of unending sexual slavery, she wept and screamed in ecstasy and enforced rapture as her mind and body welcomed her irrevocable subjugation and she became the instantly responsive and ultimately submissive sex-slave that Razak and Adams had somehow known that she had the potential to become.

  Taken twice by her Master, with Ranee’s finger sunk deep into her anal passage and two mouths feasting on her breasts and nipples, Arabella submitted in coruscating orgasms, her body exploding in gigantic spasms as titanic convulsions jetted enormous waves of love juices into her belly and sex as she was taken with overwhelming power, his massive shaft lunging to her seething core to trigger her frenzied responses as she exhibited the awesome extent of her slavery and the white heat of her submissive passion, her screams and the wild clawing of her fingers attesting to the inferno of lust consuming her entire being.

  Permitted, at last, to rest after hours of the most extreme torment, Arabella hung from her bonds, her body shaking helplessly to the storm raging through her, her eyes frantic as her Master and Ranee savoured the devastation they had wrought.

  “Your first submission as my full slave,” her Master grinned. “And still nine more days until your husband returns.”

  Arabella moaned, and then moaned again, as he added cruelly, “You know, of course, that he carries out regular inspection tours, don’t you, slave? One, or sometimes two, a month. So these little visits will become quite a feature of your life, I’m pleased to say. So you need not worry if he doesn’t understand your somewhat unusual needs. Ranee and I understand them perfectly and will ensure that you are well catered for.”

  To the vast amusement of her captors, Arabella managed a fractional nod of her head, her eyes mirroring the tumultuous havoc in her belly as she signalled her acceptance of his plans for her future….plans that would demand her ongoing submission and servitude as a full bondage- and sex-slave.

  He laughed aloud at her capitulation and turned to Ranee, ordering, “Upstairs, slave, you have not yet pleasured me.” Then he turned back, “And as for you, slave, you had best get as much rest as you can. I have some duties to perform in the morning; but, after that, I shall return to begin instructing you in the duties that you will have to perform.” With a mocking salute, he strode from the cellar leaving Arabella gagged and bound to endure the night as best she could and worry about the next nine days of her service as his slave. Not to mention the days and weeks which lay ahead when her husband was away on his inspections and she would again be commanded to don the collar and chains of a slave and obey a Master who meant to test the farthest limits of her masochism and submission.

  Chapter Twelve

  Back at Razak’s camp. April 26, 1876

  Red eyed from weeping and exhausted by her fruitless battle to escape the hogtie into which she had been bound, Belinda stared pleadingly at the door to the tent, hoping against hope to see Philip come rushing back to untie her, beg her forgiveness, and explain that it had all been a terrible mistake, and that she was not to be left as a slave, at the mercy of Razak and his men.

  In vain and as the endless minutes dragged past and turned into an hour, then into two, the full impact of her abandonment and the dreadful fate to which it consigned her, sent her into a downward spiral of hopeless despair.

  Philip, the man she had travelled thousands of miles to be reconciled with, no longer wanted her. The love he had once professed for her and which she had foolishly rejected, had somehow changed to hatred and spite; and, when the opportunity for a terrible revenge had presented itself, he had barely hesitated. Putting at risk his Army career, his reputation as an officer and a gentleman, and even his freedom if word of the agreement he had struck with Razak ever became public knowledge, for he had embezzled her ransom money to buy Ranee as his own personal slave. The lovely Indian girl now belonged to him…and Belinda belonged to Razak.

  She had only one hope left. Arabella. The brunette was her friend and surely must have been ransomed. She would never leave without her.

  Never…please?

  A horrifying doubt stole into Belinda’s reeling brain. What if Arabella’s husband had become tired of her and decided that a convenient way to rid himself of a wife he no longer desired was to leave her, too, as a slave? Terrified by her nightmare thoughts, the sobbing blonde struggled frantically against her unrelenting bondage, her naked body writhing vainly as visions of life long slavery flashed across her mind
and her tears soaked the cloth gag between her lips.

  Where was Arabella? Why had she not come to her rescue? There were no answers, and Belinda wept in anguished misery, fearing for her friend and herself.

  Still helplessly bound, she trembled and stared wildly at the figures of Razak and two of his men who entered the tent some time later and untied her numbed and aching legs then pulled her to her feet.

  “Your English Captain did not choose to ransom you, slave,” Razak spoke coldly, and his dark eyes glittered in the dim light. “It seems that he does not wish to see you freed and preferred to spend the money on a slave who would not expect or wish to be released from her chains. He and Ranee are now on the road back to Peshlara with his Colonel’s wife, but you would be unwise to hope for a further ransom to be paid or a rescue attempt to be made. One of my warriors overheard his conversation with your friend, ordering her to tell her husband that you had already been sold.”

  Belinda shook her head in denial of his words, but he laughed cruelly and told her, “You do not believe she would say such a thing, slave? You are wrong. If she refuses, he plans to tell her husband of her submission and service to me and my men, and he does not believe that a man in his Colonel’s position could overlook such a humiliation and would be compelled to disown her for bringing shame on both him and herself. I think your Captain is correct, slave. You British place great store on appearances, and it would not do for the proud Colonel to be married to a slut who has worn the collar of a slave. Your friend will most certainly do as she is told because, if she does not and is rejected by her husband, the gallant Captain has told her that he will make it his business to see that she is enslaved for a second time.”

  Belinda gaped at him, trying desperately not to believe that Philip could be so ruthless and calculating…but, as she remembered how he had left her to her fate, she knew that she had been told the truth and that Arabella could do nothing but submit to Philip’s blackmail.