Submissives of the Colonel

by Charles Graham

  “But…But, I thought….I’m your wife, Randolph,” she protested weakly then fell silent as his smile widened and he shook his head firmly.

  “No, my dear. Not any more. You were my wife; but, when you knelt before me and offered your submission, you became a slave; and, now, you will obey as one, so no more arguments and stand up please, my sweet.”

  Rising to her feet, Arabella mistook his smile and politeness for a lack of determination and seized on what she imagined to be her chance to regain control of her situation.

  “I’m sorry, Randolph, but this has gone quite far enough,” she said firmly. “I know that I knelt before you and submitted willingly as your slave, but that was just our little game, and you can’t really expect me to…to do the same for Sergeant Chaudry. He’s just a common soldier. Not even an officer.”

  Arabella’s spirits rose as her Master shook his head. “Of course not, my dear,” he agreed…but then her eyes widened in dreadful shock as he went on. “You will be chained like your friend, Arabella; and, when you give your submission, whether willing or otherwise, it will be that of a full slave. Just as it doubtless was when you served Razak and his men.”

  Arabella stared numbly at him, her mind racing with a thousand protests; but, before she could voice even one, his riding crop swung in a whistling arc to blaze a line of stinging heat across her left thigh. She screamed in sudden, unexpected pain, until his voice cut through her squeal. “A slave has to learn not to argue with a Master,” he said harshly, raising his whip high. “And you are most definitely a slave, are you not?”

  Instinctively, Arabella hollowed her spine and spread her legs wide, presenting her naked body in the submission posture of a trained slave and gasping, “Yes, Master. I’m your slave, Master, and I beg for mercy.”

  Mayhew chuckled in satisfaction and held his crop to her lips; and, as she opened her mouth and took a firm grip on the thin leather shaft with her white teeth, he nodded calmly at her obedience.

  “That is much better, slave. Now we will join Miss Wallace and Sergeant Chaudry. Off you go, slave, and don’t forget that I shall be right behind you.”

  Gagged by her Master’s crop, Arabella stumbled through the familiar rooms and corridors of her own home, acutely conscious that every step brought her nearer to the cellars where she was to be imprisoned with Belinda.

  It hardly seemed possible; but, as she felt the tight grip of cord on her wrists and the burning of her thigh where his whip had struck her, Arabella realised that her beloved husband intended to carry out what he saw as his duty, to the letter.

  He had told her that he could not risk her enslavement by Razak becoming public knowledge, and he had meant it. For the good of British rule in India, she had to disappear; and, as the full impact of what that entailed for her future sank into her brain, Arabella felt her nipples stiffen and groin moisten.

  Randolph could have sent her home, back to England, where no-one would ever have learned of her humiliation, and she could, perhaps, have eventually overcome her shameful desires for bondage and sexual subjugation…….

  Instead, he had not chosen to do so; and, as she began to descend the narrow stairs leading down to the cellars, Arabella had no illusions about what was to happen to her or why he had decided to keep her close at hand.

  From behind her, his words confirmed her thoughts. “You will be quite safe and secure down here, my sweet,” he chuckled. “Especially after Captain Adams hands over the collar and chains that you told me he uses to enslave you. And I shall visit you frequently, of course. After all, I would not want you to think that I no longer cared about you or wanted you. Quite the opposite, in fact, for I find your…uh…enthusiasm and eagerness to please most exciting, my dear, and I look forward to many long and arousing encounters with you.”

  His intentions could hardly be misunderstood, and Arabella’s belly swirled with raging slave heat to the knowledge that the chains she could not help but love would soon be clamped on her throat and limbs once again, making her the slave she longed to be and the helpless recipient of whatever desires her Master wished to impose upon her.

  She could not avoid it, even if she had wanted to; and, as she reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the heavy wooden door leading into the cellars, Arabella resigned herself to her fate and the iron-willed Master she must obey and serve.

  Elated by her successful escape from Razak then stunned by the Colonel’s refusal to free her after he had heard her story, Belinda had been quite unable to resist Sergeant Chaudry’s arousal of her defenceless breasts and had responded as the slave he had clearly still considered her to be. Then, on top of that shock, Arabella had been brought back to the room naked and with her wrists bound behind her back and been ordered to her knees by her husband.

  Belinda had known, then, that her hopes of being freed were not going to be realised because, if Arabella was a slave in her own home, to her own husband, there was no way that Belinda was going to be allowed to leave.

  With Sergeant Chaudry’s strong hand gripping her bound elbows and his crop between her lips, Belinda stumbled from the room where she had been questioned by Colonel Mayhew and made her way through the house to the underground cellars, the leather hobble straps between her knees and ankles restricting her steps to an awkward and uncomfortable shuffle.

  She did not even attempt to resist or protest, knowing that it would be a waste of breath and effort, for the bonds placed on her by Razak gave her not the smallest chance of escape, and she was certain that Chaudry would not hesitate to punish her if he she tried to defy him.

  The cellars were much larger than Belinda had envisioned, built of brick with massive wooden pillars supporting the beamed roof and surprisingly well lit by tiny, barred windows set high up in the walls; and, as she looked around anxiously, she saw that several small alcoves ran off from each side, all closed off by smaller versions of the thick door that formed the only access to the main cellar.

  “There,” Chaudry pointed to one of the central pillars. As she walked over to the square post, her eyes widened as she saw several iron rings sunk deep into the wood.

  Chaudry knelt to unbuckle the hobble straps at her knees and ankles then untied her elbows and wrist cuffs and rose to his feet, taking his crop from between her lips.

  Belinda was released from her bonds, but not from her bondage, for she understood that the muscular Indian soldier was a free man and that, while she wore the collar of a slave about her throat, all free men were her Masters.

  The Sergeant waited, watching to see what she would do, but as Belinda remained absolutely motionless, he nodded in satisfaction. “You have been well trained, slave,” he said approvingly. “Just as I would have expected from a slaver of Razak’s reputation. Now, place your back against the pillar and spread your legs.”

  Biting her lower lip, Belinda obeyed the order; and, as Chaudry clipped her ankle cuffs to a low-set ring on either side of the post, her thighs parted to reveal the soft, pink-lipped cleft of her sex.

  “Now your arms, slave.”

  The pillar was so thick that Belinda’s arms could not possibly reach around its girth; and, for a lovely moment, she thought that he would have to change his plan until he pulled each arm upwards and clipped it to a ring high above her head, forcing her to rise onto the balls of her feet, her wrists secured on opposite sides of the post and her spine pressed tight to the unforgiving wood behind her.

  Bound as helplessly and as vulnerably as she had been bound so often by Razak and his men, Belinda opened her mouth wide to receive the leather ball-gag Chaudry took from his pocket; and, as the strap tightened behind her neck, the blonde English slave shivered to the re-kindled slave heat that her bondage ignited in her belly. She no longer doubted that she had succeeded only in exchanging one set of Masters for another. As Chaudry stepped back and his eyes roamed over her displayed nudity, she made herself relax as much as her bonds and her unwanted arousal would permit, knowing that his
scrutiny of her body was only the prelude to her inevitable violation.

  Both he and Colonel Mayhew were strong, powerful men, and she knew only too well what such men did to female slaves who fell into their clutches. She would be used and taken whenever and however they chose; and, as her eyes met Chaudry’s hard gaze, Belinda bowed her head in submissive acceptance of his mastery.

  His hand reached out for her and Belinda tensed, assuming that he was about to arouse her; but, instead, his fingers traced the outline of the brand etched into her thigh.

  “Razak marked you well, slave,” he said casually then took hold of her nose ring, forcing her to lift her head and meet his eyes. “And I really like this. I shall use it when I tether you or need to move you from one place to another.”

  Belinda gulped and winced, her eyes wide with dismay as he tugged gently at the ring, for she knew how easily he could cause her terrible pain with a simple twist of his fingers.

  He raised his hand; and, as she whimpered and arched her neck in obedience to the upward pressure at her nose, Chaudry gave an evil chuckle. “You really hate this, don’t you, slave?” he asked mockingly. “With this ring in your nose, you’re just a docile little animal, aren’t you? An obedient little slut who will do anything I tell you.”

  Belinda’s blue eyes sparkled with tears as he spoke because she knew he was right.

  A master who controlled her nose ring, controlled her, and both she and the Indian Sergeant knew it.

  Chaudry chuckled a second time. “I shall enjoy making you serve me, slave,” he told her. “You will be the first white woman I’ve ever had.”

  Held in position by her bonds and his tight grip on her nose ring, Belinda dared not wriggle as his free hand went to her out-thrust breasts, his thumb and index finger rolling and squeezing each of her nipples to quivering erection as he gazed into her pleading eyes.

  Despite her fear and shame, she could not resist the immediate need his touch created in her body; and, as his hand slipped between her gaping thighs to stroke and fondle the moist, exquisitely sensitive tissues of her labia and clitoris, her belly kicked and her hips strained forward as if to trap his fingers and pull them into her body.

  “Slut!” he hissed cruelly. “I know that you think you’re better than me and would like to resist, but I am now your Master, and you are just a collared slave. So, submit to me, slave, and come like the hot little whore I shall make you.”

  Belinda shrieked in anguish, her belly convulsing frantically as his extended fingers drove deep into her sex to trigger the orgasm she could not hold back; and, as he laughed in triumph and her scalding love juices deluged into her pulsing sex and over his hand, she climaxed with all the uncontrollable passion of a trained and fully subjugated bondage slave.

  Shuddering in the throes of her enforced surrender, with her love juices oozing from her spasming body, she moaned in humiliation and despair as Colonel Mayhew followed Arabella into the cellars, the crop falling from naked brunette’s lips as she saw Belinda and gasped in shock at the erotic spectacle of her helpless plight.

  Chaudry snapped to attention, but the Colonel affected not to notice the havoc his Sergeant had wrought on Belinda, simply murmuring, “At ease, Sergeant. Down here, there are no officers, only Masters and their slaves.”

  While Chaudry relaxed, Mayhew pointed to the crop that lay on the floor. “Pick that up, slave,” he ordered Arabella firmly. “Bring it to me and then stay on your knees. I am displeased with you for dropping it and see that I will have to teach you to obey properly.”

  Arabella stared up at him nervously, hoping that he was not serious; but, as he repeated, “Pick up the crop and bring it to me, slave,” she gulped and fell to her knees, her lips nuzzling the leather shaft until she was able to get a grip with her teeth and shuffle back to his feet. Red-faced with embarrassment, she hollowed her spine to present her body to him and arched her neck to proffer the whip.

  He nodded casually. “Stay as you are, slave.” Then he turned to Chaudry, ignoring her.

  “I shall be picking up proper manacles for my wife, or rather this slave as I suppose I’d better get used to calling her, later on today, Sergeant. In the meantime, how do you suggest we secure her?”

  “I know the very thing, sir. Girth straps, sir. Like we use on our packhorses.”

  “Perfect, Sergeant. Well done. Fetch them, please.”

  “Yes, sir. And if I might suggest a bridle and bit, sir…?”

  “Hmmm. Yes, why not, Sergeant? After all, it wouldn’t do to have too much noise, would it?”

  “No, sir. I’ll get them now, sir.” And he hurried from the cellar.

  Arabella couldn’t believe how calmly and how easily her husband had accepted the amazing sight of Belinda’s ruthless bondage exposure…or, ominously, how quickly he had become accustomed to giving Arabella orders and expecting her to obey them.

  He must have seen the stains of sexual arousal at Belinda’s belly but had completely ignored what Chaudry had done to her. Not to mention ordering Arabella herself to fetch his crop with her lips then leaving her on her knees with the threat of a punishment to follow.

  It was almost as if she was back in Razak’s camp again; and, as Arabella began to realise that there was a side to Randolph that she had never seen before….a side that seemed to revel in domination and bondage and even stricter discipline than the Army imposed on its soldiers….her belly churned with ferocious slave heat as she wondered whether even her deep desire for slavery and submission was going to be able to match his apparent determination to become her fully fledged Master.

  Now that he knew that she had been trained to obey and serve men as a slave and had witnessed the passionate responses of which she was capable, it was no longer possible for her to pretend to be anything else. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to kneel and offer her submission to Randolph, no matter how thrilling and arousing it had seemed at the time…?

  For a moment, Arabella thought of making a last heartfelt appeal to her husband not to bind her; but, as she saw the smile curving his lips as he looked across at Belinda’s tightly bound and gagged nudity, she understood that it would be a waste of breath….and an invitation to further punishment if she tried to speak and dropped the crop for a second time.

  The expression on his face was that of sublime confidence…a look that she recognised all too well from her experiences in Razak’s camp and in the cellar beneath Captain Adams’ quarters. The look of a Master anticipating the pleasure to come.

  It was too late for second thoughts; and, as Chaudry returned with an armful of buckled leather straps, Arabella shivered in delicious fright, knowing that she was about to join Belinda as a defenceless captive.

  Leaving her wrists bound with cord, the two Masters tightened straps around her waist and above and below her breasts, clamping her arms immovably to her spine then ordered her to a pillar directly opposite Belinda and bound her to it with longer straps passed right around the post. Still more straps secured her ankles and knees to rings in the wood, holding her hugely spread; and, as her husband and Master replaced the crop between her lips with a thick steel bit pulled deep between her teeth and buckled behind the pillar, Arabella trembled with feverish excitement to the thrilling excitement of her utter helplessness. It was what she had been trained and conditioned to love and need; and, as she gazed across the twenty feet that separated her from Belinda’s equally helpless, equally vulnerable body, the two naked slaves saw their own desirability…and availability…mirrored by the other.

  Mayhew stood back to inspect his handiwork and nodded in satisfaction. “I believe that should hold them quite nicely, Sergeant.”

  “It certainly will, sir.”

  “Good. Then we need have no worry. Come with me, Sergeant. I need to interview Captain Adams right away and wish you to be present when I do.”

  Two muffled groans greeted his words, and he gave a throaty chuckle. “It seems that our slaves do not wish us to
leave them, Sergeant.”

  “So it appears, sir.”

  “Yes, but duty must come first; and, in this case, it is mixed with considerable anticipation.” His strong hands flexed the crop as he allowed his eyes to sweep over Arabella’s displayed curves. “I shall return later to discuss the small matter of obedience with you, my dear.”

  The door slammed shut; and, as bolts rattled to imprison the two slaves, Belinda and Arabella were left alone with no idea how long they would have to wait for their Masters’ return…but with a very clear idea of what must happen when they did.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Colonel Randolph Mayhew sat behind his huge mahogany desk as he waited for what promised to be a most interesting interview with his subordinate, Captain Adams.

  Sergeant Chaudry knocked then ushered in the younger officer; and, as he stood to attention and saluted, the Colonel assumed a grave expression.

  “You wanted to see me, sir.”

  “Indeed I do, Captain,” Mayhew said sternly, omitting to tell his junior to stand at ease and relax as he would normally have done. “I have received a very serious piece of information that I believe you can help me with.”

  “Of course, sir,” Adams replied. “Not more trouble with the Pathans, is it, sir?”

  “Not this time,” the Colonel stared levelly at his second-in-command and dropped the bombshell. “I would like to know where Ranee is, Captain.”

  Adams gave a start of surprise but recovered quickly. “Ranee, sir?”

  “Yes, Captain. Ranee.”

  “I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean, sir,” Adams bluffed, and Mayhew gave a wry smile.

  “Oh, I think you do, Captain. In fact, I know you do. Surely you can’t have forgotten the young woman you purchased as a slave from Razak instead of ransoming Miss Wallace?”

  Adams blanched, “But…But how…Who…How did you find out?”