Submissives of the Colonel

by Charles Graham

  Adams nodded, “You can rely on us, sir. But what is the good news? So far, I cannot see it.”

  Mayhew smiled warmly. “You are to be promoted to Major, Philip, and are to take over the command here when I leave to take up my new post back in England. Congratulations, Major, I know you will do a fine job.” He extended his hand.

  Dazedly, Adams took it. “I am shocked, sir,” he replied. “Thank you for your confidence in me, but…you are returning to England, sir?”

  “Immediately after the treaty signing. On promotion to Brigadier General with a post in Whitehall.”

  “I see, sir. Well deserved, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Mayhew nodded and reached into his desk then stood up. “Step forward, Sergeant Chaudry,” he ordered; and, when the soldier jumped to attention, he handed him a pair of sleeve patches bearing four golden stripes. “For your loyalty and devotion to duty, my friend, you are now Regimental Sergeant-Major. My congratulations and grateful thanks, RSM Chaudry. I shall miss you, but my loss is Major Adams’ gain. And I am sure he will come to rely on you as I always have.”

  Chaudry was both stunned and elated as he shook the hands of his Colonel and his new Commanding Officer, then all three men sat down as Mayhew resumed his briefing.

  “My orders are to extend all courtesies to the Maharajah,” he said bitterly, “which is a politely diplomatic way of telling me to bribe him with whatever is necessary to get him to sign the cursed treaty! And that, gentlemen, is where the second letter comes in….” and he handed it across the desk to his subordinates.

  In complete silence, the two men scrutinised the letter then handed it back.

  Chaudry was the first to break the oppressive silence. “It must be done, sir.”

  Adams nodded, “I am afraid I am forced to agree with the RSM, sir. Your orders leave you no choice.”

  “Yes, that was my conclusion, too.” Mayhew frowned then said heavily, “Damn Razak and damn all politicians to Hell for putting me in this position! I know my duty, and I will do it, no matter how distasteful, but I admit it will give me no pleasure to sit at a table with a scoundrel like Razak.”

  With a visible effort of will, he regained his composure and began to outline his plans for the secret meeting to be held in his private quarters in six days, one hour after dusk.

  “We will be six, gentlemen, we three and our three…ah…guests. Full dress uniform, of course. Any questions? No? Then you have your orders, as I have mine, so I will bid you goodnight.”

  Alone in his office, he picked up both letters; and, as he read them again, a wry smile twisted his lips.

  “So, for the good of the Empire, Razak is to become Maharajah of Gadoor,” he muttered softly. “The politicians in London and Dehli must be mad…”

  September 22, 1877

  The day began like many others with Belinda being visited in her cell by RSM Chaudry for the regular shaving of her belly. After so long as a slave, it had become routine and unremarkable to her; and, as she stood before him with her legs widely spread, she was almost able to ignore his meticulous removal of every trace of hair from between her thighs, fully exposing her ringed labia and clitoris.

  Almost, but not quite, for the touch of the shaving brush and razor he wielded was quite enough to fan the glowing embers of slave heat that smouldered constantly inside her, into a small fire of pleasurable arousal and anticipation.

  In the past, it had not been unknown for him to take full advantage of the effect…but on this occasion, he resisted the temptation and contented himself with escorting her to bathe and wash her hair and then back to the cell for the simple meal he had prepared.

  Where she remained, behind securely locked doors as, above her head, Chaudry, Adams and Mayhew put the final touches to the room where the signing of the treaty of alliance between the British Empire and the new Maharajah of Gadoor was to take place.

  Hours later, Belinda winced as a wide, strong leather strap tightened to clamp her elbows together, binding her arms into a single, strained column and making her breasts jut provocatively. Then she obediently opened her mouth to allow Chaudry to insert the steel circle of a large ring-gag behind her teeth, silencing her and stretching her lips into a wide “O”.

  The familiar preparations left her in no doubt of what services were to be demanded of her; and, as Chaudry led her from her cell then bent to clip her ankle cuffs together, she trembled in arousal and anticipation.

  Grinning at the immediacy of her obvious need, Chaudry sent his fingers to her out-thrust breasts, caressing her ringed nipples until they grew hard and rigid, and she whimpered in helpless passion, unable to resist the slave heat his touch ignited in her belly.

  “Slut!” he hissed, giving her swollen buds a cruel tweak. “Think yourself lucky that I do not have time to crop you right now. Stand still and be silent while I fetch your friend, but be warned, you randy bitch, if either of you gives me the slightest hint of trouble, I shall make the time to whip you both until you scream for a mercy that you will not get and beg to be permitted to submit to me and serve like the hot little whores you are!”

  Belinda shuddered in horror and froze, fighting not to make a sound as he tweaked her nipples a second time, sending sharp twinges of painfully pleasurable excitement racing through her nude body.

  “That’s better,” he said harshly, taking his hands from Belinda’s body, then turned to unlock Arabella’s cell and strode inside.

  Less than four minutes later, the brunette hurried out into the main cellar, gagged and with her arms lashed tightly behind her back; and, as she quickly moved to Belinda’s side and waited passively for her ankles to be cuffed, the gold rings at her stiff nipples quivered in mute testimony to the soldier’s attentions.

  Chaudry straightened then reached into the pockets of his uniform jacket; and, as he pulled out several very short lengths of glittering chain, the eyes of his two helpless captives widened in alarm. Unhurriedly, he reached out to entwine his left hand in Arabella’s dark hair, holding her still as his other hand clipped two of the chains to the ring dangling from her nose.

  “Bend your head down, slave,” he ordered calmly. “Do it now or be whipped.”

  Arabella gave a despairing groan, her eyes filling with horror as she realised what he intended and understood that she had no choice.

  Slowly, trembling with fear and humiliation, she allowed her head to drop forward until her chin rested on her chest and her eyes fixed on the taut globes of her own full breasts.

  Still without haste, the casually dominant Indian Master placed his forearm under her breasts and lifted them until he was able to clip one of the chains through each of her nipple rings…then swiftly took his arm away.

  Unsupported, Arabella’s breasts dropped an inch then jerked to a halt as the chains from her nose to her nipple rings snapped taut. Only an inch…but it was enough to bring a gasping squeal of anguish from her as her rings tugged sharply at her pierced flesh.

  Terrified by the ingenious cruelty of her Master, she did the only thing she could, bowing her head even lower in a desperate attempt to reduce the tension of the chains.

  It helped very slightly, easing, but by no means ending the remorseless pressure on her nose and nipples, but it also meant that she could no longer raise or turn her head. For as long as she was chained in this manner, Arabella knew that she would have to serve without ever being able to lift her eyes to look at her Masters or avoid the sight of her own uplifted breasts and pierced nipples.

  Her belly gave a fierce kick as she visualised how humble and submissive she must look with her head lowered, and she felt her sex grow wet with masochistic excitement to the certainty that none of her Masters would show mercy to such a lowly slave-slut.

  Belinda could do nothing as her friend was chained…or when her own turn came…and as her nose and nipples were linked together by short steel chains. She was no more able to control the unwanted, but quite irresistible slave heat that coiled and sw
irled within her as her body responded instinctively to the mixture of utter helplessness, unavoidable discomfort and thrilling subjugation that she had been conditioned to need and welcome.

  The rigorous training and strict discipline imposed on her by every Master she had ever served, was ingrained into her body and brain and the success of those efforts was clearly evident in the tremors of sexual arousal and passion that rippled the smooth flesh of her softly rounded belly.

  Satisfied with his preparation of the two trembling women who stood before him, Chaudry unlocked the door of Ranee’s cell. “Out, slave,” he ordered. “Fetch chain tethers and leash the bellies of these sluts then release their ankles and keep them here until I call for you to bring them to the drawing-room. And hurry, they will be required very soon.”

  “Yes, Master,” she replied quickly, but Chaudry was already gone.

  Racing to comply with her Master’s instructions, the slim Indian slave giggled with malicious delight as she seized two lengths of gleaming chain and snapped the clips through the labia rings of each of her helpless victims, enjoying the muffled gasps and whimpers that were the only protests the hapless pair could make as they felt the weight of their leashes.

  For the first time in many months, Ranee was again in a position of power over the English slaves she had helped to train, a position she felt was her right, for she had never wavered in her conviction that she was better trained, more able to please any man and vastly more deserving of the undivided attentions of her Master than either of them. She had bitterly resented every moment that Captain Adams had spent with them rather than her, but now she had been given an unexpected opportunity for revenge.

  Unclipping their ankle cuffs, she gathered both leashes in her hands and gave a sharp yank, her dark eyes glittering with cruel amusement as shrill squeals of pain and shock rang through the cellar and the two slaves she despised stumbled towards her in frightened, helpless obedience.

  Moving back two paces, she snapped, “Keep still, you disobedient white bitches!” Then she yanked a second time, wringing more screams and moans of despair from Arabella and Belinda as the chains tugged at the delicate, exquisitely sensitive folds of their ringed labias and forced them to stagger forward again, towards their pitiless tormentor.

  Ranee dropped the leashes but only to seize the chains joining her squealing captives’ ringed noses to their ringed nipples; and, as she tugged and twisted to send painful twinges shooting through the breasts and nostrils of her writhing, sobbing victims, she laughed aloud with the pleasure of her vengeful dominance.

  “You still lack proper discipline, sluts,” she sneered mockingly, her hands tweaking the chains more gently. “The Masters will whip you for that, and I hope I will be there to see it.”

  With Ranee’s taunts echoing in her ears and her nipples and labia and nose tingling and throbbing from undeserved punishment, Belinda moaned in dreadful anguish as hot spurts of juices trickled into her sex in response to the thought of being whipped by a Master while other Masters toyed with her as Ranee was toying with her.

  It should have been a horrifying prospect…but Belinda knew it was not…and knew, too, that she would submit and climax with the shattering intensity of a true sex-slave if Ranee’s hopes were realised…

  Alongside her, Arabella’s belly seethed and bubbled and her engorged nipples ached as her enforced subjugation sent her arousal zooming, pain and pleasure no longer separate, but blending into a furious, overwhelming need that only a Master’s ruthless plundering of her body could assuage as she surrendered utterly to the inferno of lust consuming her.

  Then, when both blonde and brunette trembled on the brink of orgasm, Ranee heard Chaudry’s voice ordering her to bring the slaves to the drawing-room.

  The meeting between Colonel Mayhew and Razak, the new Maharajah of Gadoor, had been a tense, nerve-wracking one, but the negotiations had almost been finalised.

  Determined not to show his distaste for the task he had been ordered to complete and the dislike he felt for the man who sat opposite him, the Colonel kept his face carefully neutral and pushed the treaty document firmly across the wide, highly polished table-top. “I believe we are in agreement, Your Highness,” he said. “If you would care to sign…?”

  Equally firmly, Razak pushed the paper back. “I believe there is one more minor detail to be attended to first, Colonel,” he replied flatly. “A trivial matter, perhaps, but one that I feel should be dealt with before I sign anything.”

  Both men knew exactly what he was referring to and understood that there would be no treaty if they could not agree.

  “Very well, Your Highness,” Mayhew matched the unemotional tone of his opponent. “As you say, a trivial matter when set against the benefits of peace between us.”

  “Indeed it is, Colonel. The price of duty can often be high, but not too high, I trust.”

  “No, not too high,” Mayhew agreed, then added, “I am to return to England immediately the treaty is signed.”

  “Ah. I see. Then I wish you well, Colonel, and hope that your...experiences...in my country will leave you with many happy memories, with, perhaps, more to come in your own land.”

  The Colonel smiled for the first time. “I believe they will, Your Highness. My experience of your somewhat unique culture has taught me a great deal, and I shall spare no effort to share the...ah...benefits of what I have learned with one or two ladies of my acquaintance who I consider to be eminently suitable to repay my effort and instruction.”

  Razak gave a deep, barking laugh, “You have learned much, Colonel. I congratulate you. And now, if you would be so kind, the small matter of which we spoke…?”

  Mayhew nodded. “Of course, Your Highness. Carry on, Sergeant Chaudry.”

  Chaudry saluted; and, as he marched out, the five remaining men, Colonel Mayhew, Captain Adams, Razak, and two of his most trusted warriors, Amal and the fearsome Bohar, turned to face the open doorway.

  Leading her two tightly chained, thoroughly subjugated and hopelessly aroused captives by the chains to their labia rings, Ranee walked proudly into the room…and fell instantly to her knees, her eyes wide with shock and growing horror as she recognised the three men seated with her Masters.

  With their heads bowed low, Arabella and Belinda had no idea that eyes other than their own Masters were greedily drinking in their offered nudity. When Chaudry snapped, “Kneeling display, slaves!” they sank gracefully to the wooden floor and spread their thighs wide in the familiar pose of their submission.

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Mayhew said then turned to Razak. “As you see, Your Highness, I have kept my side of the bargain.”

  “And I shall keep mine, Colonel. Would you have their nose chains released, please? I should like them to see and understand exactly what is happening here this evening.”

  Belinda shuddered in terrified disbelief as she heard a voice she knew only too well and had fervently hoped never to hear again; but, as the chains at her nose were removed and left to dangle from her erect nipples, she slowly raised her head and an icy chill of dreadful despair filled her belly as she found Razak’s cold, hard eyes fixed upon her.

  Like her friend, Arabella immediately recognised the voice of the man who had been the first to enslave her and force her to confront the reality of her deeply submissive and masochistic nature. She saw that he was accompanied by Amal and Bohar…both of whom had whipped and taken her and knew exactly how to make any slave serve to perfection. She gasped and trembled to a wave of incandescent slave heat that rolled through her body and arched her spine to display herself still more beautifully to their gaze.

  Colonel Mayhew gazed down at the kneeling figure of his former wife; and, as he read the helpless need in her eyes and saw her instinctive response to finding herself in the presence of Masters, he knew he was looking at a genuine and completely natural slave.

  “Arabella,” he said firmly, “Belinda. Allow me to introduce you to the new Maharajah of Gadoor
, soon to be a valued and respected ally of the British Empire. The man you knew as Razak….and your new Master.”

  He paused for a moment, “Provided, of course, that His Highness is willing to sign the treaty.”

  For an instant, the two English women stared numbly up at him, either unable or unwilling to believe his words and what they signified.

  Until Razak drew the treaty document towards him and lifted his pen, his glittering eyes darting from one anguished, gag-distorted face to the other as Arabella and Belinda screamed in horrified unison.

  “Oh, I am perfectly willing, Colonel,” he replied coolly and put pen to paper, signing with a flourish and handing the document to Mayhew.

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” the Colonel bowed formally. “Then, as of this moment, the treaty is in force and these two slaves belong to you.”

  Stunned by the casual ease with which she had been transferred to her new Master, Arabella stared imploringly at her husband, begging him to save her, but he shook his head and said gently, “It is no good you looking at me like that, my dear. I no longer own you, you see. You are His Highness’s slave now, but I shall always remember you with great fondness and affection as I train your replacements at my country house back in England.”

  Arabella knew then that all hope was gone; and, as Mayhew patted her gagged cheek, she blinked back tears and submitted to the lifetime of continued slavery to Razak and his men that was to be her unavoidable fate.

  Belinda’s worst nightmare turned to terrifying reality as Razak put his signature on the treaty; for, with the stroke of his pen, she became his slave for the second time. She had escaped his clutches once, making him look foolish and foiling his plans to sell her, but as his cold eyes bored into hers, she knew that the opportunity would never be permitted to occur again and that she would remain as his captive forever.