Mindful of his warning that a slave who disobeyed or spoke without permission would be punished, none dared hesitate or open her mouth to argue or question his brusque commands; and, as he clipped the final cuff to secure Arabella alongside her two companions, the Indian Master savoured his power and drank in the sweet curves of the naked trio who lay helpless before him.
Not only him either, for as he stepped back, a mocking voice drawled, “Obedient little trollops, aren’t they, Sergeant?” Philip Adams strolled from the pillar he had been leaning against and gazed down casually at the hopelessly vulnerable body of Belinda.
The blonde flushed a deep crimson as his eyes swept over her tautened breasts to linger at the hairless entry of her shaven sex and the long muscles of her slim thighs tensed vainly as she tried and failed to hide the pink-lipped cleft from him.
“Keep still, slut!” his voice crackled with authority, and Belinda froze, gulping in sudden fright and humiliation as he bent low to subject the most private and intimate recesses of her body to a detailed scrutiny. His fingers parted her labia, opening her defenceless sex yet wider; but, as she gasped in arousal and her belly fluttered to a burst of instant slave heat, he stood up and grinned at Chaudry.
“All well, sir?”
“Yes, no problem.”
“What about the other two?”
“No need, Sergeant. I already know everything there is to know about them.”
“Ah, yes, of course, sir. Then everything is ready.”
“Not quite, Sergeant. As I remember, there is one last detail to be added, is there not?”
There was and as Chaudry took three leather blindfolds from his pocket, handed two to Adams and buckled the third over Belinda’s staring eyes, the hapless blonde shuddered wildly as she was plunged into darkness. Not a chink of light penetrated the padded leather and as her dependence on her Masters became even more absolute, a jolt of devastating arousal speared up into her swirling belly.
Unable to see, she could no longer anticipate whatever the Masters might do, and the increased uncertainty both thrilled and frightened her, for she had been blindfolded before and knew she could not resist the intensely erotic effects of being deprived of vision…
In moments, all three slaves were blindfolded; and, as Adams heard the soft whimpers of Arabella and Ranee and saw the futile twisting of their heads as they tried to shake the leather from their eyes, his lips curved in a cold smile, enjoying their obvious dismay as yet another freedom was taken from them.
“Now these slaves are ready, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir. Ready, even if not necessarily willing, sir.”
“Not that it matters.”
“Of course not, sir. Then if you would fetch the Colonel, I will escort our..ah..guest down here.”
Adams nodded his agreement; and, as the two Masters marched from the cellar, Ranee and Arabella trembled in horrified anguish, hoping against hope that the “guest” Chaudry had gone to fetch was not the physician called in to pierce their noses and ring them as Belinda was ringed. She, at least, had nothing to fear from him, for her nose already bore the visible symbol of her enslavement.
Or so the slaves, including Belinda herself, assumed.
Colonel Randolph Mayhew strode into the cellar, his eyes going immediately to the naked, spread-eagled body of his gagged and blindfolded slave-wife. For a brief instant, he felt a pang of guilt at her plight and the ordeal to which he was about to subject her, but then he reminded himself sternly that Arabella had no-one to blame for her situation except herself. If she had waited to be escorted to Peshlara, or had resisted Razak more strongly, she would not have been enslaved and none of what had followed would have been necessary.
His decision had been the right one, the story of Arabella’s submission to Razak had to be kept a secret, and he had not shirked his duty.
He crushed back the unworthy thought that, if she had resisted successfully, he would have missed the best and most exciting sexual experiences of his whole life. He turned to greet the short, bespectacled Indian who stood with Adams and Chaudry, his eyes darting from one naked slave to the next.
“Good morning, Doctor,” he said coolly, ignoring the immediate gag-stifled moans of protest that greeted his revelation of the fourth man’s profession. “I assume that Sergeant Chaudry has informed you of your task here today?”
“Oh, ah yes, Colonel, yes indeed,” the doctor replied nervously. “He made it quite clear, thank you…but…well…two of these...ah..patients are...ah...white women, Colonel. I mean…ah…Memsahibs, Colonel?”
“Not any more,” Adams interjected with a cruel laugh, and Mayhew frowned.
“That is not your concern, Doctor,” he said coldly. “Your job, for which you have already been very well paid, is to carry out our agreement. If you have misgivings about that, return the money and leave. Otherwise, please carry on.”
The doctor licked his lips nervously and stammered, “I…That is…I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Colonel. Naturally, I’m sure you gentlemen have your reasons for…for…all this, and I…well…I really don’t need to know, do I?”
It was quite obvious to his audience, both free and bound, that the doctor’s greed for money was easily able to overcome his scruples; and, as he busied himself with the contents of his bag, the three Masters exchanged scornful glances behind his back.
When he straightened, he held a phial of amber liquid and a pair of curved forceps in his hands. “I’m ready now, Colonel,” he said, holding up the bottle. “This is an extract of certain local herbs that I have used with success before…” He paused, realising what he had just admitted then hurried on, “Ah, yes, well, it numbs the flesh, you see.”
Mayhew cut him short. “Yes. Most interesting, Doctor, but I’m sure you must be a busy man, so please begin with that slave.” He pointed to Ranee.
Without another word, the doctor hurried to her side; and, as the slim Indian girl felt cool liquid applied to the insides of her nostrils, she screamed into her gag and tried to pull her head away.
Using a skill clearly born of experience, the doctor gripped her jaw and held her with one hand while the other deftly inserted the tips of the forceps into her nose and squeezed the handles. With a loud, metallic “click”, the device fired, punching a neat hole right through the fleshy part of Ranee’s septum; and when she felt the momentary stab of pain and understood that her Masters really had carried out their plan to have her pierced, she gave a moan of terrible anguish and slumped, trembling in her bondage.
Until, to her utter disbelief, several sets of fingers caressed each of her nipples to full, rigid erection and stroked her labia until the soft petals grew swollen and engorged with arousal, she was far too frightened to enjoy.
Then, in a nightmare development she had never even considered, Ranee felt the liquid dabbed on her breasts and between her thighs.
Clawing at the empty air, thighs cording in vain efforts to tear free of her bonds, shrieking in panic and overwhelming terror, she heard four distinct ‘clicks” and felt the sharp twinges as her nipples and labia were pierced to receive the rings that her Masters had decided that she must wear. She could not believe what had been done to her, but as she heard the deep chuckle of the Master she thought of as her own…Captain Adams…her belly churned with uncontrollable heat as she visualised him staring down at her, his eyes alight with the pleasure of knowing that she would soon bear the permanent symbols of her abject submission to his Mastery in her flesh.
Despite her horror and shame, a slow, warm trickle of love juices oozed from her sex; and, as her body betrayed her sexual need to the watching men, Colonel Mayhew pointed silently at Belinda…
The blonde English slave believed that her companions were only to have their noses pierced to match her own and had thought that she had no need to worry on her own behalf…
That mistaken assumption sustained her through the humiliation of having her naked body displayed to the unknown doct
or…right up until she heard not one, but five “clicks” from the table to which Ranee was bound. Only then did she realise that her Masters were not to be content with a single piercing, and an icy chill filled her belly as she learned the awful truth of what was to come. There was absolutely nothing she could do to save herself; and, as skilled hands aroused her pinioned body and the liquid was applied, tears of misery and despair soaked the leather sealing her eyes.
Stunned by the unexpected catastrophe which had overtaken her, she hardly felt the piercing of her flesh, her brain too numbed with horror to even protest at the ruthless cruelty of Masters who had proven themselves to be no less barbaric than Razak.
Arabella, whose screams and garbled pleas for mercy rang through the cellar as she writhed and twisted in her bondage, fought to free herself and escape the fate of her companions as her nipples and labia stiffened to the touch of her Masters.
Colonel Mayhew’s face darkened at her efforts. “Keep still, Arabella!” he snapped angrily. “I’m ashamed of you, and you are embarrassing me in front of my friends. Now, stop that silly squealing and let the doctor get on with his work.”
The sheer, callous effrontery of his demands took Arabella’s breath away for a moment, then her shock was replaced by a growing anger, and she wrenched even harder at her bonds.
How dare he speak to her like that? How could he even imagine that she would lie still and not even protest while the doctor…a complete stranger…prepared to pierce her? It was impossible…unthinkable…absolutely and totally out of the question. Except for one small, but vitally important detail that she forgot in the heat of her fury…
The slave’s collar clamped about her throat.
Without the slightest warning, three lines of blistering heat scorched across her belly and thighs, followed instantly by three more, her husband’s voice cutting through her muffled screams, “I do not care to repeat my orders to a slave. Now, keep still and do not make another sound.”
The instant retribution inflicted on her for what was surely nothing more than a natural reaction to her dreadful plight, extinguished the last flickering embers of Arabella’s resistance; and, as all hope died and was replaced by fearful acceptance of her unavoidable fate, she ceased her futile struggles.
Seizing his moment, the doctor hurried to her side, his hands shaking as he applied his liquid to her trembling flesh and positioned the forceps at her nose.
“One moment, Doctor,” Colonel Mayhew took the device from the doctor. “I shall pierce this slave myself.” Then he bent to remove the blindfold from her eyes.
He smiled down at her then spoke in a clear, firm voice. “It is my wish that you be pierced for the slave rings that I will lock in your flesh, slave,” he said slowly. “If that is also your wish, you will lower your eyes as a sign of your willing and total submission to me.”
For five endless seconds, Arabella held his level gaze, then she gave a choking sob and her wide, frightened eyes slid away and down as she surrendered to the implacable determination of her husband and Master…and her own shameful desires.
There was no opportunity to change her mind; for, as soon as her eyes dropped, Mayhew squeezed the handles of the forceps to pierce her nose then swiftly re-positioned the device to repeat the process at her nipples and labia, steadfastly ignoring her winces and gasps.
For Arabella, it was the most intensely humiliating, terrifying yet, at the same time, sexually arousing and deeply erotic experience of her whole life, the grip of the forceps on her flesh and the delicious flashes of pain as she was pierced only adding to the turmoil in her seething belly as her Master imposed the ultimate in subjugation upon her…and smiled as he did so.
He had even offered her a rare chance, unique in her experience as a collared slave, to oppose his wishes…but she had not taken it…and as the doctor was ushered from the cellar, his task completed, her erect nipples and swollen labia throbbed and tingled with the damp heat of her voluntary submission.
While he waited for Chaudry to return, Colonel Mayhew examined the contents of a small, square box then showed it to Adams. “What do you think, my boy?”
The tall Captain chuckled appreciatively. “Excellent, sir. Beautiful craftsmanship and a perfect match, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Quite correct, Philip. Sergeant Chaudry tells me he obtained them from the same man that Razak himself uses. Ironic, but somehow rather appropriate, don’t you think?”
“I do, sir. Ironic, indeed, and yet another reason for us to be grateful to the rogue.”
Mayhew laughed, “Perhaps so, my boy, but not grateful enough to stop me hanging him and his men when we catch them, eh, what?”
At that moment, the Indian Sergeant returned; and, as he hurried over, the Colonel turned his mind to matters more pressing and infinitely more pleasurable than apprehending a renegade slaver.
“Well, gentleman,” he said cheerfully. “Let us keep these slaves waiting no longer. If you would remove Belinda’s blindfold, Sergeant, and you deal with Ranee, Philip, I believe it is time these delightful young ladies were given the presents we have for them.”
The two girls blinked and gulped nervously as their blindfolds were taken away, and they saw their Masters grinning down at them. Then they joined Arabella in gazing fixedly at the box in Mayhew’s hand as he held it out towards Adams and Chaudry.
Adams selected five gleaming gold rings, Chaudry four, Mayhew himself the final five; and, as they carefully inserted the cold, hard, golden hoops through the newly-pierced flesh of their helpless victims, the metallic “snick” of internal catches locking shut signalled the final, irrevocable step in the long, arduous enslavement process begun by Razak.
Stepping back, the three Masters watched intently as Arabella, Belinda and Ranee tried to come to terms with the reality of their piercings, each lifting her head to stare down at the gold adorning her nose and breasts and belly, eyes widening with shock and fright as each felt the insistent weight of the one-inch rings transfixing her flesh and understood that she would never again be free of the ever-present and all too obvious symbols of her slavery…
Colonel Mayhew gazed down at the ringed slave who had once been his wife and as he saw the need and humble acceptance in her eyes, shook his head decisively and addressed his subordinates, “These slaves will need a little time to heal, my friends. Five days, I understand, Sergeant? Very well then, I propose we meet here again at, shall we say, seven thirty pm in five days time?”
Receiving nods from his colleagues, he clapped his hands in satisfaction, “Then it is agreed. So let us return them to their cells,” he let his eyes roam over Arabella’s nakedly displayed body and gave a harsh chuckle, “I fancy the time will pass quickly enough with so much to look forward to. And as you can see, my friends, there is so much to look forward to, for all of us.”
There could be no mistaking his meaning and as each slave was released by the Master who had ringed her, taken to her cell and ordered to her knees to have her wrists locked behind her back to prevent her from impeding the healing of her piercings, nor could there be any doubt of what each was to face.
Arabella gazed imploringly up at her Master, her eyes filled with a longing she was unable to hide; for, as she had made the short walk to her cell, the rings he had locked through her flesh had swung gently to and fro at every step, producing effects out of all proportion to their size. She would not have believed that such small devices could create so much havoc in her body; but, as the all-too-noticeable weight of his gold made itself felt with every movement she made, random jolts of devastating and quite unavoidable arousal shot through her nipples and labia.
Before she had even reached the cell, her belly was aflame with liquid fire; and, as she knelt to display her body to her Master and placed her wrists at the small of her back to be chained, tremors and ripples of feverish passion set her full breasts quivering and her sex oozing with the juices of her unbearable need.
The sight of his na
ked slave-wife kneeling before him with the rings of her submission glittering against her smooth, creamy flesh and her eyes pleading mutely for his touch, set Colonel Mayhew’s maleness straining at the material of his tight breeches as he moved behind her and clipped her wrist cuffs together…and, to his delighted surprise, the moment she felt herself bound, Arabella bent forward from the waist and placed her forehead against the floor. It was the act of a willingly submissive slave in the grip of overwhelming passion…one who offered herself totally for the use and pleasure of her Master…for with her head down and buttocks raised high, her sex gaped invitingly, and she could no longer see or anticipate what he might do to her.
He could arouse her, or take her, or even whip her; and, as he finally understood the awesome depth of her submission to bondage slavery and the limitless extent of his Mastery over her, he sent his hand racing between her thighs. When his extended fingers drove into her body, Arabella gave a shrill, breathy squeal of ecstatic surrender and climaxed instantaneously, her slim fingers clawing and belly pulsing in volcanic contractions as an orgasm of enormous power crashed over her and a tidal wave of hot love juices thundered down over his probing fingers and onward into her palpitating sex.
Still unused to the frenzied responses of a true slave, Mayhew was shocked by the devastating havoc his touch had unleashed and made as if to withdraw his hand…but as Arabella whimpered and her internal muscles gripped his fingers to pull them deeper into her convulsing belly, he realised that she wanted still more.
His shock and astonishment at her seeming insatiability was replaced by a burgeoning curiosity to find out just how submissive she really was…and how far her obedience to his will extended.
Slowly, he began to slide his fingers in and out of her dripping sex; and, as Arabella responded with muffled gasps and a rhythmic flexing of her buttocks and pelvis, he built her inexorably towards a second orgasm.
Submissives of the Colonel Page 19
