Copyrighted material, not for those under 18 years of age.
Getting a whole household of slaves ready for a trip was not exactly "a piece of cake." Passports for all five went routinely. Getting packed and determining what to take, what to store and what to throw out seemed endless. For one moment Glen seriously considered shocking the neighbors by having a yard sale of all the bondage gear. Moment over, he laughed as he pictured the shocked faces.
There was Amyís house to consider. Georginaís had already been sold and the money deposited in Glenís account for investment. Glen was trying to decided what to tell his banker while he did his routine check on his bank account. An entry caught his eye - $250,000 deposited the day he got back from the castle. Since there was nothing to identify the source, he called the bank. "It was a wire deposit from a ĎCastle Bond.í"
Puzzled, he called Dr. Saslo. "Oh, I wanted it to be a surprise! Thatís your signing bonus."
Glen thanked him and they talked over business matters briefly. Glen was assured that his staff had everything under control and the In Box on his desk was nearly empty.
Sarah and Jane had some family ties they needed to see to, so Glen sent them home for a couple of days, with instructions to fend off questions about their jobs as a job for a firm that was opening a branch in Europe, doing top secret work for the military.
Selene brought Amy to his office. "What do you want to do about your house? Do you want to keep it and have someone look after it, or do you want to sell it?"
Amy had been thinking about it and realized something had to be done. She had moved all her personal stuff to Glenís house, so there was nothing more she needed from it. "Master, sell the house and put my furniture in storage."
"Youíre sure? If this doesnít work out for some reason, youíd be homeless."
"Master, Iím your slave. I know you will provide for me. Sell the house."
After conferring with Dr. Saslo, they decided to have the girls dressed normally for the flight to Chicago. When they reached the CB plane they would be fitted with shackles for the overseas flight. A courier brought official arrest warrants for each girl, naming Glen as a bounty hunter, acting with full authority to transport them to Castle Bond, with the approval of the U.S. Government. There was even a permit to carry a gun on the commercial flight. The gun and holster were in a heavily padded envelope along with a five-year supply of ammo.
Glen could only shake his head, amazed at some of the things Dr. Saslow accomplished. Reading the warrants resulted in discovering for the first time the name of the country where the castle was situated. It was a surprise enough to cause him to raise an eyebrow, although the name was on his short list of guesses.
Departure day was a day like no other. The five slaves were demurely dressed in clothes that would not draw undue attention to them. Glen wore a coat and tie as usual, but that didnít mask the serious look on his face. One phase of his life was over. A new phase would begin as they walked aboard the CB plane at Chicago.
Dr. Steve and Penny were on hand for the big event. Dr. Steve had run into a series of minor problems with closing his practice and said it would be another two weeks before he could leave. Like Glen, he was closing the house and had hired a caretaker to look after it.
There were hugs and tears all around. The girls promised Penny that they would have things ready for her. Glen shook hands with Dr. Steve and hugged Penny before climbing into the limo for the trip to the airport. The mood was somber in the car. Glen was the only one who really knew what was coming and he had avoided talking with the girls about it, knowing there would be plenty of time on the lengthy flight out of Chicago.
The ride was especially exciting for Amy, who had been out of the house only twice since her slavery began. Despite her love for Glen she had mixed emotions about moving to a strange village where bondage and slavery were a way of life. She already missed the familiar cell, the dungeon, the torture implements and yes, even the whips.
After the announcement, Amy had tried to fantasize how life in a castle would be, even as a lowly slave, but her fantasies returned time and time again to the punishments she had received in Glenís basement. While the other girls could rattle on for hours about their new life and what it might bring, Amy remained fixated on the harsh discipline that Glen had meted out. She openly wondered if it would be the same. Would Glen be so busy with his work that he would neglect her?
That suggestion conflicted with her inborn desire to be punished, to be hurt, to feel the flailing whip at every turn. She tried several times to air her concerns to Glen, but words always failed her at the last second. She knew that Glen would comfort her, in his own brusque way, but she couldnít force herself to beg. Perhaps if she had been privy to Glenís plans for her she would have been more at ease. Her already planned stay in the Discipline Barracks would more than satisfy the most masochistic of slaves.
At the airport, Glen went to the First Class counter, showed his identification and his gun permit. The agent called his supervisor and after a short conference, the supervisor returned his papers. "Please show this to the pilot when you board. Iíll make arrangements to have your party boarded first."
Neither he nor the girls had any carry-on luggage. Glen knew that there were ample supplies of everything needed on the CB plane, so despite pleas, the girls were empty handed.
An electric cart appeared as if by magic and all six crowded aboard, Even without luggage it was a tight squeeze. The driver made it worthwhile by bypassing security and taking them directly to the First Class lounge. The attendant offered drinks, which Glen limited to bottled water for everyone, promising champagne for the overseas flight. He ordered that the bottles be empty by loading time, citing the dehydration that is the bane of air travel.
The lounge opened directly into the jetway, so when a flight attendant came for them they were able to board easily. Glen showed his papers to the pilot, as a well dressed man joined them. The pilot handed the papers to the man. He read through them quickly, then introduced himself as an Air Marshal. "If you have any trouble with your prisoners, just shout. Five women?"
"They were all working at the same branch bank. Took it upon themselves to pad their paychecks. They agreed to go quietly if we didnít embarrass them in front of their families or fellow workers. Otherwise theyíd be in tramsport chains."
The Marshal whistled softly and took Glen by the arm back onto the jetway, out of earshot of the girls.
"Iíve heard that the National Prison there is a hellhole. Are they aware of what they are getting into?"
Glen laughed. "Oh, theyíre getting off easy. My orders are to deliver them to a private jail at Castle Bond. Itís not a vacation spot, but anything is better than the NP. But, if they fuck up there, then theyíll taste the hospitality at the NP."
Just then the sound of approaching footsteps heralded the arrival of the rest of the passengers. Glen and the Marshall ducked back inside the plane and took their seats.
The plane was on time, the sky without a bump and the landing at Chicago was silk-smooth. The six were the first off the plane, diverted through a door in the jetway to stairs leading to the ground, where a van waited. Glen loaded the girls in back and took the front seat. The van zipped across the runways to the CB private hanger.
The flight engineer was waiting at the door with a cart, piled with handcuffs. As each slave reached him he turned them around and cuffed their hands behind them and directed them to a seat. Three double seats had been installed between the main cabin and the flight deck. As each girl sat down, Lisa locked a cuff around one ankle, the other end of a short chain welded to the chair frame.
Once all were seated and shackled, the pilot appeared. Reading from a clipboard he announced, "As per the regulations of the National Prison, all prisoners are to be secured at the discretion of their guard. Once in the air your bonds may be changed at his discretion."
Several of the girls looked puzzled. Since when had they graduated from slaves to prisoners?
Two men appeared at the cabin door. One a typical suit bureaucrat, the other in uniform. After a whispered discussion, the pilot waved Glen toward them. The suit identified himself as State Department. The uniform was Immigration.
Glen showed them all the papers. They conferred briefly then suit nodded. "You packing?"
Glen nodded. He wondered to himself how they would react if they knew his Glock was empty, and for that matter he had never fired a pistol.
Suit nodded. INS shook hands with Glen. The two turned and walked off the plane. The pilot made a face behind them and grinned. Lisa closed the cabin door and the pilot closed the door to the flight deck behind him. There was a slight bump as the tug hooked onto the front landing gear and then towed the plane out of the hanger. The engines whined to life and after a few moments checking things, the plane started to move.
Once in the air and well above 30,000 feet, Glen had Lisa release the slaves. She removed their handcuffs long enough for them to undress completely, then moved the cuffs to the front. True to his word, Glen had the three attendants break out the champagne. After a couple of refills, Glen pulled Georgina to her slightly unsteady feet.
"Time for you to join the mile high club. Itís not every slave that can boast of blowing the pilot." He slapped her on her bare rump and Linda escorted her to the flight deck door where the co-pilot was waiting in the doorway.
Out of sight of the slaves, Linda gave him a big hug and a kiss that could move mountains. "Thanks for the night off, boss. We drew straws for you though, and I won. How would you like me tied?"
Glenís cock jerked against her bare thigh. Both felt it. Glen teased, "Arenít you being a bit presumptuous? Five slaves and I should leave them to ravage you?"
"Boss, none of them are redheads, and besides, itís Ďfresh meatí."
"Two very potent arguments! Have Lavina tie you the same way I had her fixed."
"Yes, Master. I will await you."
"Think of some special punishment for calling me boss."
"Yes, Master. Perhaps some screw-on nipple clamps?"
"Works for me."
Dinner was served and devoured. There was no skimping on food on CB Airlines. There were only the faintest of hints that the food hadnĎt been prepared by a five-star chef. Georgina had returned from the flight deck in time to eat, looking slightly the worse for wear. Surrounded by eight naked bodies, it was hard for Glen to concentrate on the food, but he managed to uphold his reputation as a big eater, pausing once to ponder whether Linda had ever suffered the torture of the Twisting Nipple Clamps. He figured she probably had, but he did manage to think up a couple of new twists that she might not have experienced. His cock was playing pop-up as his thoughts centered on the attendantís more than ample breasts.
Eating was tiring, and took the last bit of the girlsí strength. They were given a choice of sleeping on the cabin floor, or in the chairs. All five chose the chairs, which were more well padded than the floor. Glen was tired too, after the long day, but the thought of the spread-eagled body in his bed drew on some reserves as he went to the cabin.
At first glance he thought Linda was hopping mad, but after a look at her face he could tell she was hopping hot. Her nipples told the story, fully erect, but pinched flat by the over-enthusiastic twisting of the screw threaded into the nipple clamp. Her mouth was jammed open around a whopping penis gag, garbling her pleas for rescue from her self-imposed clamping. She was in fact hopping, bouncing on the bed in a fruitless attempt to somehow translate movement into relief.
Glen walked around the bed, looking at her helplessness from every angle. Over her gag, her teary eyes followed his every movement, her vocal cords conjuring up delights she would shower on him, if he would just release her.
Glen ignored her pleading. Something about, "she brought it on herself." He touched her, delicately, his fingers brushing her labia. They came away dripping. He rubbed them below her nose, letting her smell her arousal. He let a drop fall on the tip of her nose, grinning as she made mad faces, trying to dislodge what was immediately an itch that she was helpless to reach.
Linda screamed into her gag when his fingers tightened the right nipple clamp a small fraction of a turn. She interrupted one scream with an even louder one for the left nipple. Glen lay down beside her and reached over and unscrewed a clamp a full turn. A second later the returning blood flow hurt, and started another scream. When it died to a moan he opened the other clamp. The moan fire-sirened to a peak before dying away.
Linda was sweat-soaked and exhausted by the time Glen got through with the first phase of his nipple twisting. When he finally removed her gag the words came tumbling out right behind it. "Master! Please! Have mercy on a poor slave!" From there she launched into a string of proposals of sexual gratification that she offered to do to him or for him. Glen listened with interest, pausing only long enough to ensure that the wall cameraís red eye was on. Her outburst was vivid enough to cause Glen to visualize her, chained in the castle dungeon doing what she promised as he read them one by one from the list. He stopped her after a particularly graphic description of being gagged and accepting his jism up her nose.
"Next I suppose youíll want me to come in your ears."
Linda nodded once to agree, but realized she was being teased again and stopped.
Glen twisted the nearest clamp. Linda moaned.† "Time to mount up. You are going to demonstrate a slave fuck. If I am in any way dissatisfied, youíll be worrying about gangrene for the rest of the night." As he slid into her and she rose to meet him he asked, "Still think you won?"
Linda squeezed out a "Yes, Master!" Then her bouncing body required all her attention.
When at last he was sated, Glen threw her a curve. "Before, you screamed when the screws were at a certain tightness. Before you remove the clamps I want you to screw them, one at a time, to that tightness without the scream. Then you may remove them. No noise when you loosen them, either."
Linda was panting hard by the time she had tightened one clamp. Glen reached over and turned it a small fraction. Linda swallowed a scream. Glen motioned and she unscrewed the clamp. She gasped, but did not even moan as the blood flowed back into her tortured nipple.
The other clamp was treated the same. Lindaís body writhed against her chains, alternating with the futile bouncing that she had done earlier. When the clamp fell away Glen leaned down and sucked the nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. The perky projection bloomed. A second later the other nipple got the same treatment and the same enjoyment.
Glen picked up the clamps and tossed them on the nightstand. He reached up and turned off the light. His hand found her body, following her curves to the open place between her legs. He found her clit and had her almost at the peak when he fell asleep.
Dawn was breaking ahead of them when the pilot announced that they would be landing in 30 minutes. Glen awoke to find his bed empty. Lindaís co-workers had released her so that she could attend to her duties in connection with the landing. Breakfast was being served when Glen emerged. The five slaves were more interested in looking out the windows, trying to guess where they were. They would eat a bite and then hurry to the windows again.
Glen realized that he hadnít given the girls the orientation he had planned, so he called them together. Reluctantly they left the windows and attacked the breakfast with renewed vigor while they listened. Glen talked non-stop for most of the remaining time. There would be time for questions later. He felt satisfied that he had covered the main points.
The only deviation was when he mention the Discipline Barracks. He looked directly at Amy, as he said it. She stopped chewing for a moment, then went on as if nothing had happened. He didnít realize that the mere mention had set her juices flowing. Discipline meant pain, and she was instantly aroused.
The big plane glided down to a soft landing, contact indicated by a slight bump. Georgina applauded the landing, clapping her hands. The other slaves picked up the beat, at first hesitant at this unexpected mark of respect for the flight crew.
In the short time Glen had been away the airport terminal now sported a jetway. The slaves were handcuffed, and led by Selene they made their way into the terminal. The reception committee was not what Glen had expected. Dr. Saslo was there, but there were three uniformed men standing in front of the gate. One was obviously an officer. All three had prominent "NP" patches on their black shirts.
The slaves halted in the doorway, right behind Glen. Dr. Saslo hurried forward and shook Glenís hand. "A slave escaped from the Presidentís house. A reporter was waiting outside the fence. We captured both of them, but the President has insisted on tighter security, especially here at the airport. These gentlemen are from the National Prison."
"Colonel, Iíd like you to meet our General Manager."
The officer eyed Glen coldly, almost reluctantly reaching to shake hands with him. He explained, "Since you werenít here to handle things, our President decreed that it was a matter for the National Prison to handle. We have established new security measures to avoid having any other slaves getting the idea they can come and go as they please."
He pointed out the window. "Your limo is waiting. Your five slaves will follow along later."
Dr. Saslo took Glen by the arm and walked away. When he was out of earshot he quickly filled him in on events.
"They are screening every slave that comes in and goes out, even X-rays for anything they might have swallowed. The President threw a hissy-fit when his slave almost got away. We have the female reporter in the Discipline Barracks, where they are interrogating her, but they took the slave to the NP. They wonít tell us what they have found out, but if any photos got out he could revoke our agreement. It will quiet down when the President calms down, but Iím afraid your slaves are in for a rough time."
About then any of the five slaves would have classed his comment as the understatement of the year. The officers had conducted body cavity searches that were remarkable for their callous cruelty. A single search would have been the expected, but each of the three men took turns probing. One was wearing a massive ring with sharp points, with which he made sure to scrape their tenderest of flesh. Sarah was having her period, but that didnít stop them, even to the point of tearing her tampon to shreds.
The guards dragged a pile of chain out from behind the podium. The slaves were lined up and then each slave was forced to kneel. A steel yoke, welded to the chain, was placed around each neck and locked. The girlís handcuffs were removed and their wrists fastened into the cuffs mounted on the tips of the yoke.
The two guards took position, one at the head of the coffel, the other bringing up the rear. The Colonel walked to stand in front of Selene. "You, follow him. If he turns, you turn. If he runs, you run. There is to be slack in the lead chain at all times. If you let it tighten, all five of you will suffer. ON YOUR FEET!"
Both guardís whips cracked as one. Awkwardly, weighed down by the heavy metal, the slaves scrambled to their feet. The lead guard was already moving, his hand pulling the slack out of the light lead chain. From behind Selene a chorus of yells and screams mixed with the sound of a whip signaled the beginning of their painful journey.
Once outside they all blinked at the harsh sunlight. The lead guard set a fast pace, almost running, the helpless girls following as best they could. Selene was panting and she could hear the girls behind her gasping for breath. From what little they had been told they had assumed that they would ride from the airport to the castle, but there was no vehicle in sight. Several moments later they did hear the sound of an electric cart, but the lone occupant was the Colonel. He ignored them as he rode by.
At the fast pace the walk took about fifteen minutes. As they approached the castle they could see the two gibbets hanging at the gate and when they got closer they could see that both metal cages were occupied.
The guard held up his hand. "It is traditional now for each slave to kiss the feet of the slaves who are on display. Follow the leader and kiss both of them."
Selene moved forward and had to wait as the guard used his whip to make the caged girl stick her foot out so that Selene could kiss it. She sputtered and spit, tasting dirt and urine. The other slaveís foot was no tastier.
The guard warned, "What you see is an object lesson. Do your work well, obey every order and you may avoid being hung out here for everyone to see. If you think this is bad, wait until you see what we do to slackers at the NP."
Scared half out of their minds and exhausted from the run, none of the five had the slightest doubt that they would both inhabit the gibbets and taste the NPís dreaded welcome. They didnít need to be told the details as their imaginations were working overtime to scare them even more.
The lead guard pressed a button hidden on the wall. A viewing port slid open and the group was eyed carefully. A buzzer sounded and the portcullis raised. The sharp points were shoulder high, so the guards and the slaves had to duck under them to get into the high-ceilinged hall. They waited as the portcullis dropped, the points fitting in holes in the floor. Only then did the door at the end of the hall open.
The guard led them to Glenís office. The guard picked up a clipboard from Sara Maeís desk and handed it to Glen to sign. Without a word he turned and walked out. Jeanne hurried to the door and shut it.
Glen had been given the key so he began unlocking the slaves, at the same time explaining what was going on. He offered no apologies, letting the facts speak for themselves.
He had unlocked Selene and Amy and was working on Georgina when he heard a commotion behind him. He looked, just in time to see Amy running out into the hall. He swore under his breath and dashed out the door after her.
It was a short race. Glen was rested, while Amy was worn out from the fast pace set by the guard. He caught her before she reached the door out into the rest of the castle. He grabbed her hair and jerked her backwards, slamming her to the floor and knocking the wind out of her.
Georgina was following not far behind. Glen snarled at her, "Get a set of transport chains and a punishment helmet..." She turned and hurried back to the office. Sara Mae found the chains and helmet and seeing Georgina panting, told her to rest while she carried them to Glen.
As she approached she could hear Glen cursing Amy. "Of all the stupid, dumb stunts, this takes the cake. You just went through the tight security, so you knew you couldnít get out of here. Damn you, I planned a week or so in the Discipline Barracks to get you off on the right foot. Attempted escape is an automatic year in the National Prison. If youíre lucky I may be able to convert that to a sentence in the DB, but youíre not going to like that either. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!"
Sara Mae handed him the pieces as he outfitted Amy with the belt and hobble that made running an impossible dream. He tightened the belt, then put his knee against her hip and tightened it another hole. Deliberately he tightened the leg chains so she didnít have enough slack to straighten her knees. That was the nice thing about the chain set. It could be comfortable, or punitive, depending on the mood of the key holder.
The helmet had a built-in gag. Amyís mouth was full but the strap over the top of her head pulled her jaw so tight that there was no indication of the gag. She was still breathing hard, the air whistling in and out of her nose. Still annoyed, he pinched her nostrils shut to show her she was in dire straits. Amy panicked, her wrists straining against the cuffs on her belt, her fingers fluttering.†
Glen shook his head, releasing Amyís nose so she could breathe. Sara Mae snapped the chain leash on Amyís collar and handed the looped end to Glen. He jerked it hard, dragging Amy around and headed for his office with her heeling him. Over his shoulder he continued to castigate her, repeating "dumb" and "stupid" as every third or fourth word.
He stormed into the office, looking like thunder to the nervous slaves. He sideswiped the backs of her knees with his foot, bringing Amy to the floor on her knees in front of his desk. He handed the leash back to Sara Mae, with a warning. "Lose her and youíll serve right along with her." Sara Mae took the words to heart, first sliding the loop over her wrist, then grasping the chain with both hands.
Glen was sick at the thought that one of his slaves would do something like this - especially Amy! How was he going to explain this to Dr. Saslo, and the Board?
His tirade was interrupted when the office door opened and four men walked in. It was the NP Colonel and his guards. The extra guard was wheeling a metal cage into the room. One guard stood in the open door, his hand hovering over the holstered pistol at his side. Glen stopped in mid-sentence at the interruption.
"Colonel. What can I do for you?"
The officer stood silent, looking down at Amy, following her leash with his eyes to Sara Maeís hands.
"There was an attempted escape from this office a few minutes ago."
"Yes. Colonel. As you can see we have the matter under control."
The officer raised his head, staring coldly at Glen. He ignored him and turned to look at the two slaves still yoked to the chain.
"I suppose neither of them would run, once they are unlocked," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he turned back to face Glen.
"Iím sure they wouldnít run. However I didnít expect my wife to run either."
"Your wife. How interesting." His tone suggested the exact opposite. "Wife" took on a whole new meaning, at best derogatory.
"Married to a slave?" His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. The insult was obvious.
†Glen was certain the man knew much more about him than he was letting on. "We do things differently in the States."
"So I see. Since she is a slave, you wonít mind if we talk to her. The President has taken a personal interest in her and will question her himself."
Glen ground his teeth, caught over a barrel. The security cameras had caught Amyís escape. The President must have the system tapped, or have spies in the Security Room. All he could do was go along, and ride it out.
"As you wish. Give my regards to the President and my apologies for creating a problem."
Amy had been listening closely to the exchange. She was frightened, but too late to do her any good.
"Master! Please donít allow them to take me!"
The Colonel grinned, wolfishly, as Glenís anger swelled again. "You donít have a choice!" he gritted.† "Sara Mae, give the Colonel her leash."
She offered the loop to him, but he ignored it. He nodded to the two guards who were now standing on either side of Amy. Swiftly they grasped her arms and lifted her to her feet. One held out his hand. "The key."
Sara Mae handed Glen a key, sensing that he had misplaced the other key,† and Glen in turn handed it to the guard. The man turned and the two walked Amy toward the cage. With accustomed ease they unlocked and stripped the chains from Amy, dumping them without ceremony on the floor. The third guard lifted the top half of the cage and held it as the two guards lifted Amy into the air until her feet cleared the cage. She shrieked as they let her down. As soon as her feet touched the steel straps at the bottom the other guard lifted the top of the cage and let it down over her. Padlocks held the two halves together. Once her head went past the open neck, the steel flap was closed and locked, trapping her head with almost no room to move. The two burly guards lifted her like a feather and dropped her onto the lip of the cart. Without a glance back they wheeled her out the door and disappeared.
"Depending on how quickly she tells us what we need to know, you should have her back in a week or two." The Colonel looked around the office. "Looks like youíll have enough bed warmers without her." He glared at the slaves. "If thereís the slightest hint that others were involved, weíll be back for you. We have a plentiful supply of cages - and other tools."
Without another word the officer walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him, almost hard enough to shatter the glass.
The entire group converged on Glen. They offered what little sympathy they had, unsure of how he was taking the abduction - kidnaping or whatever they should call it. Glenís biggest problem was how to get this by the board. He wasnít at all sure that they wouldnít fire him on the spot. He had Sara Mae try to locate Dr. Saslo while Georgina took care of releasing June and Sarah from the yokes. The girls started talking about Amy, but Glen put a stop to it. "You heard the man," he warned. "He will be back, Iím sure."
Dr. Saslo hurried in. "I heard." he responded when one of the slaves spoke up, "they took Amy."
Glen was curt. "I have to check the wall were that escaped slave was headed. Come along." It was the first time he had ordered Dr. Saslo to do something, but it didnít cause a problem. Dr. Saslo could see that Glen was very upset.
As they rode in the limo, Glen gave Dr. Saslo the details of Amyís suicidal dash for freedom. "Did she say why she ran off?
"No, she didnít have time. I was too busy bawling her out, having nightmares about what the Board would think."
At the site, the limo stopped and the got out. They inspected the wall and then Glen suggested. "Perhaps they didnít look over toward that little knoll." As they walked. Glen said softly, "Keep your head down, looking. I have some important information." Dr. Saslo continued to walk.
"My office is bugged and the Security System has been compromised. The President has a spy or spies in there. They were on me within five minutes of when Amy ran. They probably have your office bugged and the Boardís as well. Iíll make you a small bet that the limo is bugged too. And a camera."
Dr. Saslo got in, opened the window and got out again. He motioned with his hands. In the few seconds he had spotted both the camera and a microphone. He stayed out of range, silently showing Glen where they were hidden, the camera in the dome light and the microphone in a decoration on the top of the seat back. "I could have sworn that tire was flat," he said as they got back in.
As they drove back they discussed routine business. Dr. Saslo invited him for dinner at the swanky mall restaurant. "The least I could do," he muttered as they walked from the parking lot. Glen knew that there would be security cameras in the restaurant, but he was unsure if they had microphones attached. He used the short walk to ask a key question. "Whatís the Board going to think?
Dr. Saslo chuckled. "As long as you donít kill the Pope, youíve got a job. Slaves acting up are a dime a dozen and we donít worry about them."
At dinner Dr. Saslo asked for a detailed description of exactly what had happened, as much for the benefit of the security system as for his own information. Glen described the whole event, pausing often to take another bite of steak or a sip of wine, so it took the whole evening to bring it to the point where the Colonel walked out.
"You know she would have been raped?" said the Doctor.
Glen nodded. "I expected that. The DB boys did a number on my receptionist. They wanted to do Becky when I took her along. Which brings up a point. I think all the slaves should at least tour the DB when they first arrive. Theyíll hear a lot of rumors as well - things they didnít see - and it should help keep them in line."
Dr. Saslo nodded, "Good idea."† Glen added, "I suggested it to Dwight and heís going to look into it."
Dr. Saslo thought to himself, ĎAnd Iím going to look into this President.í He said "Good night," and the limo rolled away.
Glen arrived at his office early, but his staff still beat him to the door. He - and they - were ready for business. Amy was a top priority, but at the moment there was nothing he could do about it. At the moment, his new job topped the list and he plunged into the work with all his strength and energy. There were several times that he wanted to consult with Dr. Saslo, but he was ever conscious that his every movement, every word was being monitored by the Presidentís staff.
The first week was rough. He had met most of the Castle staff but being confronted with a dozen managers, each jockeying for position with the new General Manager, was a chore. This was what he had been hired for, so he drew on all his management skills to quell the usual minor rebellions and back biting. His first meetings involving the managers went well and things started to smooth out. Amy was pushed farther and farther back in his thoughts.
One of the key problems that needed direction was elevating Selene to manage the Slave Training School.† Several minor decisions had to be made and as a result she was given brown belt rank and allowed to wear a uniform and carry a Taser or a stun gun. A couple of the male managers protested what they saw as an infringement on their positions of authority, but Glen quickly quelled the complaints, pointing out that she was not only highly qualified, but had experience in the job. He made it clear that her perks did not extend beyond her job, other than the ranking the brown belt gave her.
The second week was noticeably better. The managers had accepted his authority and were feeling more comfortable, just as Glen was.
On Friday morning, Glen awoke to the ministrations of his personal assistant. Becky was learning her job and performing it to a T. As Glen sat down for breakfast, she switched on the TV to an English-language broadcast. Glen was more interested in his food, but a gasp from Becky brought his attention to the screen.
"The President for Life has been deposed. The opposition party leader has been sworn in as the new President and will serve until elections can be held. Sources say that police raided the Presidential Palace and discovered evidence that the President had been on the payroll of a neighboring country. Colonel Forg Maswer, the chief of the Secret Police was arrested and charged with spying for a foreign power. He had been masquerading as an officer of the National Prison. "
"The hidden entrance to a sub-basement in the Palace was discovered and more than 40 female slaves were rescued from the cells and torture chamber that police found. The bodies of at least three slaves were discovered."
Glen sat for a moment, stunned. This could only mean that the slaves here in the Presidentís home would be rescued too. He grabbed the phone and called Dr. Saslo.
The doctor told him that the castleís security force was already at the gates of the Presidentís house. "Iíll let you know as soon as we have word on your slave."
Becky was already on another line, ordering a limo. Glen raced to the street and climbed in almost before it came to a stop. The driver sped away, headed for the Presidentís house. When they arrived, the front gate was hanging askew, mute evidence that force had been necessary. However only two shots had been fired and the staff surrendered without a major confrontation.
A staff member worked the controls for the hidden entrance to the dungeon. Naked slaves began pouring up the stairs and out of the house as their cells were opened. Glen looked at each new face, disappointed each time.† Then at last he spied Amy, being carried by two men. She was dripping wet and two steel balls hung from chains locked to her ankles. Another man came running up the stairs, holding the key that opened her chains.
Glen took her in his arms and hugged her. But, only for a moment. He released her and pointed to the floor. She knelt at his command. "We have some unfinished business. You attempted to escape. The minimum sentence is one year in the DB. I assume you have already been interrogated, but you will be again." He turned to a waiting guard. "See that Dwight takes a personal interest in her case."
As the guards were restraining her, Glen headed for the door. The limo took him to the Security Section. He found the manager. "Who is absent from work this morning?"
The manager looked around. "Jack. Heís supposed to be on monitor duty."
"Find him and arrest him. Heís been spying for the deposed President."
A short time later two guards appeared holding a struggling man between them. The manager stepped forward and used his stun gun. The man convulsed and went limp. The manager ordered, "Put him in a cell. Weíll transfer him to the National Prison."
Glen cautioned. "Some of the NP people are involved in this plot. Better hold him until we get the good guys sorted out from the baddies."
He went on to explain the problem and asked that the monitor room and controls be swept for bugs and very probably a direct line into the Presidentís house. "They knew everything that was going on in my office."
Glen went back to his office, satisfied that they had done everything they could to protect the Castle. A few hours later the security manager confirmed that they had found just what Glen had told them to look for. A special line was found which gave the Presidentís men a direct connection with any of the monitor circuits. They found tapes of Glenís conversations with Dr. Saslo, tapes of Board meetings, and a tape of Amyís escape attempt.
Georgina, June and Sarah, Glenís original slaves, were assigned to housekeeping. All three crowded around Glen when he got back to his apartment. The uppermost question on their minds was Amy. Glen made no bones about it. "Amy was rescued unharmed. As an escapee, she was turned over to the DB for a minimum of one year."
Georgina asked, "What will they do to her there?" Sheíd already heard some rumors. Glen confirmed them.
"She will be severely punished. They will interrogate her under very unpleasant conditions, to find out if she had plotted this and whether anyone else was involved. Once they find out everything she knows, the real punishment begins. Once she is fully into the routine, we will visit her and she will describe some of the things that have been done to her, as a warning to you. I plan to have all the new slaves take the tour."
Georgina shuddered at the mental picture that Glenís words invoked. She felt sympathy for Amy, but it was tempered by the knowledge that she had broken one of the cardinal rules by attempting to escape. She was really puzzled that Amy had broken, but she realized that Amy was a complex person and her reasoning might not match that of others. She had a problem deciding which was worse, based on her limited knowledge, the Presidentís men, or the DB. She was fully aware that Amy was the epitome of a "glutton for punishment," so she was not overly concerned about whatever pain she would suffer.
Secretly she was pleased that Glen had made no move to use his status to rescue Amy. She knew Glen well enough to know that he valued his ethics. Certainly he would have had to compromise his ethics whether the incident occurred the first day on the job, or years later. Knowing that Glen wouldnít compromise was exactly the message he meant to convey. His home slaves and his staff knew exactly where he stood and knew they could expect no mercy either, if they screwed up.
Even Dr. Saslo was impressed. He pointedly asked Glen if he was going to intercede for her. Glen shook his head emphatically, reinforcing the explosive "No" that he spoke.
"She knew the rules and intentionally broke them. I warned her repeatedly that she had no special status. Sheís first and foremost a slave, so she lives by slave rules. Iíve told Dwight he has free rein to punish her in any way he chooses."
At the moment there were three women who were guests of the state, that Glen was interested in. Amy and the female reporter were in the DB. The slave, whose escape attempt had triggered several converging events was in the National Prison, undoubtedly in the dungeon undergoing questioning along with various tortures designed to extract blood from a stone. Glen knew that Dwight would give him anything they learned from the reporter, but he would have to build some bridges to get the information from the slave. His gut told him that the slave might very well have been a spy, spying on the spies. On impulse he took his cell phone and dialed Dwightís number.
The DB manager had nothing to report. Amy was being processed and so far their efforts to break the reporter had given them nothing to go on. Glen voiced his suspicions that the reporter was part of the spy ring. Dwight agreed that it sounded logical and told Glen that he would change his line of questioning to see if he could get her to open up.
Things were calming down, but there were still an occasional repercussion. Dwight reported that he found two of his men were working for the NP and another was part of the spy network. Glenís next call was to Security where he left instructions to double check every employee. The manager interrupted to tell Glen that one of the residents had been implicated in the Presidentís plot. "Boot him out, send him back to his government with the information on his spying. His property and slaves are forfeited to the Castle. Get some extra men and double check all the residents as well. We donít want any sleeper cells in here."
Glen held an emergency meeting after dinner, with Dr. Saslo and two other Board members, and all the section managers. By then Security had five employees and three residents in custody. Glen explained to the group what had been going on, including the tapping of the security system. "I hope you guys had sense enough not to discuss confidential business in front of the cameras. We have hundreds of tapes so you may get embarrassed as we go through them. Thereís evidence that the President was planning a wholesale blackmail scheme."
He went on, "Iíve instructed Security to sweep all the offices for bugs every day. It certainly spoils the fun, but we canít be too careful. There may be more, hiding in plain sight, so if you have the slightest suspicion, let Security know at once."
The next morning, Glen cleaned out his In basket and then had Sara Mae phone Dwight to let him know that he was coming. When the limo rolled up to the door, Dwight was waiting on the steps. Glen greeted him and asked, "Any more problems?"
"No, sir. I think weíve found them all. The NP put up a squawk when I told them that Amy was not being sent to them. I told them that she had some critical information that you needed to know."
"Have you been able to find out what happened? Why she ran?"
"Sheís sticking to her story that it was a spur-of-the-moment deal. She panicked after the harsh body search. She swears that none of the other slaves - or you - had anything to do with it, or knew about it in any way. Iím reasonably sure she was telling the truth, because the boys were hurting her, bad."
"Sheís a pain freak, so I wouldnít put too much credibility on her statements."
"We saw that. We found out that she is scared of water. Must have nearly drowned in a boating accident, years ago. We used a ducking stool, which scared the shit out of her but didnít feed her pain fantasies. She turned into a regular chatterbox after a few enforced swimming lessons."
"Good. You can do anything you want to her. She should volunteer to try any new bondage or torture you come up with - and keep that ducking stool handy. I think youíve found the key to some of the problems sheís been causing. As you know, sheís my wife. Sheíll try to pull rank, but she has always† been severely punished, so donít stop now. Sheís been told that sheís at the bottom of the heap and thereís no earthly reason to change that. Use her as an example for any visiting VIPís or potential residents. Thereís no restriction on rapes, or piercings, so make her life miserable."
"I expected as much. Come on, itís showtime."
Dwight led him to an observation room. Glen recognized the body on the table as Amy. Her head was encased in heavy leather, actually two thicknesses, molded to her face. There were no eye holes. Two small holes allowed her to breathe, with difficulty. A massive gag filled her mouth and covered her lower face. The gag had a breathing hole, but it was prominently plugged with a cork, limiting her air supply to what came into her nose.
Dwight noted some of the features of the helmet and told Glen that it had been pulled down over her head and locked before she was released from the cage on the electric car. "It hasnít come off since. "Weíll have to shave her head to get a complete fit, but weíll knock her out for that so she wonít see light for some time to come."
Just then a man came into the room. He was as naked as Amy and he too was helmeted, but without the cork. He felt his way, by coincidence his splayed hand falling on one of Amyís heaving breasts. He quickly found his way between her spread and shackled legs, his stiff cock homing on her soaking labia.
Amy grunted, startled, then resigned, as his body slammed into her and she continued to grunt into her gag as he pounded her. He seemed to get particular joy from drawing away until only the head was at her entrance, then lunging forward. Her grunts rose in pitch as the rape continued without a pause. Glen wondered, as he watched, whether she might think it was he who was raping her.
When at last the man spurted, Amy was screaming with a forbidden orgasm. Dwight made a note on his clipboard. "Sheíll be punished for that. Sheís already improving, down to two out of three. The guy is one of the NP prisoners we have working here. Just the idea of fucking a woman they canít see and who canít see them gives them a cockstand that wonít quit."
"What did they do to her at the Presidentís house?"
"Plenty. They missed some information because I donít think they caught on to her pain tolerance. The Colonel was the NPís chief interrogator, so she was up against an expert, but even the experts can be fooled."
"They put her foot in a vise and then closed the vise until she fainted. They dumped a bucket of water on her and then started whipping her between her toes. Another vise was brought out and they left the first foot and went through the whole routine again. The Colonel put clamps on each toenail. Then he took a hammer and batted her toes back and forth with it. Heíd stop and tighten all the clamps and then start batting them again. They had to† keep dumping water on her because she passed out from the pain. Claimed that never had happened to her before. She still walks a little gingerly."
"Did they break her?
"She admitted they had, but said that it happened just before the shit hit the fan. She said they forgot all about her and went scurrying to escape, but our Security people met them at the door and put them on a plane to the Capitol."
†"What did they do to break her?
"Crude. They put needles under her toenails and hooked a magneto to them. Said the convulsions nearly broke her legs."
"Well, if it works, thatís what counts."
"Thatís the name of the game."
"What about this reporter?"
"You know, I had my doubts when you suggested that she was part of the plot, but the first question I asked, after I talked to you, her body language told me we were on to something."
"Iíd like to talk to her."
"OK, right now sheís taking swimming lessons to keep her in the proper frame of mind."
Dwight led the way to another viewing room. The room in front of the window featured a huge glass tank. The reporter was neck deep in the water, actually chin deep, her mouth barely above the water line. She was treading water, hampered by large weights locked to her ankles and her wrists were locked to a belt around her middle. Making her life miserable, a guard held a pole which was hooked to her collar. He used the pole to duck her head under water, usually until a flood of bubbles showed that the girlís lungs were empty. Then he would pull her up, slowly, gasping and choking on the water she had swallowed.
Glen nodded his approval. "Iíll give you another 24 hours before I question her." He went on, giving Dwight a detailed list of what he wanted done to her.
Dwight and Glen were standing close to the water tank. The girl listened to their conversation, eyes widening as she heard that she would suffer another 24 hours. She was more than ready to talk, worn out by the torture she had already been subjected to. The strain showed in her haggard face, eyes sunken, hopelessness written all over her countenance. She interrupted them, hoping for mercy, "Sirs, I am..."
She in turn was interrupted by the guard, her head dragged underwater by the rod, with no time to draw a breath. She struggled against her collar, wasting precious air in her futile attempt to get back to the surface. Even as she fought she knew she was losing, punished for speaking without permission. The two men, and the guard, ignored her. The guard had ample experience in handling drowning victims, expert in making it a painful experience that would haunt them whenever they saw water.
The next day Glen cleaned up his desk and was closeted for more than an hour with the head of security. He was a few minutes late driving to the DB. Dwight was in his usual position on the steps, quickly leading him to the interrogation room where the female reporter waited.
Detained would be a far better word for her predicament. A single glance would dispel any idea that she was willingly situated to greet her visitors. She was absolutely rigid, unmoving. Moving any part of her body, even fingers and toes, required both energy and complete indifference to pain. The past 24 hours had expended all her energy and proved to her that pain can come in many forms, each one worse than the one preceding it. Maintaining her rigidity caused pain of its own, worse than many of the tortures she endured, but here again Dwight and his crew showed her special pain that was excruciating beyond belief, far worse than her rigid posture.
The girl hung - literally - on the wall. Her head was clamped and supported in a vise-like fixture that relieved her neck of any strain, but at a severe cost.
Behind her back a metal bow shoved her chest forward. Her arms bent back to the tips of the bow, pulled taut enough to threaten dislocation, her hands balled in locked metal mittens.
Her breasts were shoved forward through two tight metal rings, welded to a metal frame that clamped about her upper body. Self tightening nipple clamps hooked to a threaded frame that pulled them into a stiff cone shape. "L" shaped supports extended from the wall through her armpits.
The tight steel belt, nearly buried in her flesh, was bolted to wall brackets behind her, offering a bare minimum of support. It was supplemented by a cruel butt plug, mounted on yet another bracket.
The human body - especially the female body - is capable of assuming some astounding positions. The girl was demonstrating one of the more painful gymnastics. Her legs were spread, extending horizontally along the wall to brackets just below her knees. The brackets were not intended to support. Rather, they were intended to convince their victim to hold her legs up, or suffer the sharp studs lining the brackets. The exhausted thigh muscles had long since given up the battle.
Below her knees, her lower legs and feet were expected to remain outstretched, unsupported. Sagging triggered the electronics that zapped her convulsing sphincter again and again until she forced her legs upward. Ankle weights had been at the ready, but she had tired almost immediately without them and had given up trying to raise her legs and stop the pulsing shocks.
As you picture her position, you realize that her pussy had to be pulled invitingly open. A white scum on the floor beneath her attested to use. A hydraulic platform stood in front of her, allowing her rapists to adjust their height to match her open invitation.
Dwight smiled. "Every prick in the place has had at least one go at her. Several of the inmates are on standby here. They have one minute to bring her to orgasm with their tongue after each rape. You can imagine how tender her clit is by now. Besides, weíve been giving her treatments with a Wartenburg Wheel. She comes unglued when those points start digging into her clit."
Glen nodded. "Letís open her up and see what she has to say."
Dwight busied himself removing her head bondage and helmet. The girlís head finally appeared, her face haggard and drawn, hair plastered to her scalp with sweat. The instant the gag came out of her mouth she followed it with a gush of words, "Please, Sirs. No more. Iíll tell you anything you want to know. Just donít make me come again - and stop that electricity up my ass."
Glen snapped at her. "Sounds like youíre not ready to talk. Making demands!"
"Sirs, Iím ready to talk. Iím ready... ulph!"
Silenced by the gag she pleaded with her eyes, little mewing noises coming from her flaring nostrils.
Looking right at her, Glen announced. "Weíll try this again tomorrow. In the meantime, double her punishments. Two orgasms after every rape. Hook that wheel to a Tens unit and give her clit a real workout! Perhaps sheíll be less demanding next time."
The girl stared at him, speechless behind her gag, horror spilling from her eyes. The hood dropped over her face, hiding her eyes once more. Deliberately, Dwight jerked on the helmetís neck strap, tightening it another notch. He tightened the jaws holding her head, adding a quarter turn to increase the pressure. As the two men prepared to leave an NP prisoner was escorted in and led to her. She whimpered at his touch, knowing her fate.† She tried not to move.
A sudden influx of work delayed his return to the DB until late afternoon. Glen was unconcerned as he knew the dragged out confrontation would speed the process of breaking the girl. When his desk was fully cleared he let Dwight know he was coming.
The girl was screaming into her gag when the two men walked into the room. She had been wired for sound. Or, to be more exact, half wired, a single contact glued to the fleshy hood that was pulled back from her clit.
The other wire went to a steel collar locked on the neck of one of the female inmates. Despite the close fitting helmet that covered her upper face, Glen recognized Amy as the figure kneeling between the reporterís legs.
The girl showed obvious signs that the spiked wheel had been back and forth across her clit, varying the pressure with each turn. Several specks of blood showed where the points had broken the† skin of the tender organ.
At the moment, the torture instrument was Amyís tongue. Each time she touched it to the girlís clit the circuit was completed and the tenderized clit got a jolt of electricity. The genius behind this particular punishment was demonstrated by the fact that Amy got just as big a shock in her tongue. A guard stood by with a vicious whip, urging the very reluctant Amy to lap, and lap again.
Suddenly the spy girlís whole body shuddered as the latest in an unending and unwanted string of climaxes took control. She moaned through her nose, in a moment of panic trying to remember if this was the first, or second orgasm after her latest rape. It was the first, but Dwight stopped the torture and put his hand on Amyís shoulder, pointing her and the guard to the door. Neither of the men wanted any additional witnesses to hear what the girl was about to reveal. One of Dwightís staff was waiting in the observation room, ready to get confirmation of any information she gave them.
The girl, unable to hear any of this, was beginning to doubt her own sanity, sure that she had only one forced orgasm. She was unable to understand why the torture had suddenly stopped, forgetting in her pain that she was to be questioned again.
Her heart stopped, skipping a beat when she felt the vise loosen that held her head immobile. Her mouth was dry, her lips cracked, unable to benefit from the saliva trapped by her gag. The too tight throat strap eased open and she drew her first full breath - in how long?
She shut her eyes, then blinked rapidly, adjusting to the soft light in the interrogation room. She finally saw the two men staring at her, in no rush. She was totally exhausted and was more than ready to talk. She had long since resigned herself to suffer any pain without complaint. The lesson she had learned had been a very painful one.
"Your name is?"
"Retha... Spanger, Sir."
"You will address us as ĎMaster."í
She tried to understand, but her brain was too tired. "Master" had some special connotation, but she couldnít remember.
"You are a spy. Who are you working for?
As both men listened in astonishment, Retha detailed her work for not one, but four different entities. The deposed President was one. The NP Chief Interrogator was number two. The Director of the National Prison made three, and a member of the Corporation Board was the surprising fourth employer.
Glen turned and walked away. He whipped out his cell phone and called Dr. Saslo. In curt sentences he reported the first results of the interrogation and named the Board member she was working for. Dr. Saslo gasped, then assured Glen that he would confront the man immediately. "Take the head of Security with you," Glen warned.
Retha hung in her chains, drained, dreading the reaction to her confession. She knew what her fate would be if either the NP boss or the Chief Interrogator got hold of her. From her first taste of the discipline meted out here, she was certain that her future was going to be extremely painful in the DB as well.
Dwight watched her intently, silent, letting her own imagination scare her. He was already mulling over ideas as to how to deal with her. Glen snapped his phone shut and returned to stand in front of her.
The two men settled in and questioned her for a solid two hours. By the time they finished she had detailed chapter and verse of her career as a multiple secret agent. She was visibly worn down by her torture and the lengthy questioning. Her answers were becoming weaker as her breathing became more labored.
Glen leaned forward, his face inches from hers. "Weíll be back tomorrow. Think of all the things youíve forgotten to tell us and be ready to volunteer to list them for us. In the meantime, you will be subject to certain incentives."
Retha looked at him with horror. "Incentives" could mean only one thing - more torture. She looked at Glen for some sign, then at Dwight. Both men stood, grim and unsmiling. Terror took over her mind, knowing she would receive no mercy from either of her captors. She could see the contempt in the eyes of both men. Using her last dregs of energy she shuddered, barely moving her body, but hurting all the same.
Glen drove back to his office, using the time to mull over the information the spy girl had furnished. She was a prize that had to be protected at all costs. Working for four different people obviously meant that she was four times a target. The outside bodies could be kept at bay, but the immediate problem was this rogue board member.
As soon as he walked in, Jeanne handed him a note, asking him to come to Dr. Sasloís office.
"Why didnít you call me?" Glen snapped.
"Sir, the message came a few seconds ago. There was no time to call you."
Glen didnít acknowledge her excuse, turning on his heel and back out the door. Moments later he walked into Dr. Sasloís office. His receptionist was waiting at the door to the inner office, holding it open for him.
Dr. Saslo and Ralph, the head of Security, were standing in front of a seated figure on a chair in the center of the room. Ralph was holding a cattle prod, his manner suggesting he knew exactly how and where to use it to cause the most pain.
Dr. Saslo looked up and then nodded as Glen came in. He waved a hand in the direction of the seated man.
"Asshole here has admitted Ďknowingí the spy, but thatís all."
Glen walked around the chair, noting that Jadronís hands were cuffed behind the chair back. He stopped in front of him and lifted his chin with one hand. He stared into the hate filled eyes and smiled.
"The spy however, likes to talk, eve n begged to talk. She told us a lot about you, Jadron. For instance, that your investments have gone sour and working for the President was a way to recoup your losses. You wanted my job, because of the good pay, but you didnít have the qualifications to get it, so you chose to work underground. Thereís a lot more, but this is enough to kick you off the Board and send you home. Either that or we turn you over to the authorities as a spy. Theyíre not going to take kindly to that after all this mess."
Jadron slumped in his chair, knowing when he was defeated. He was not yet aware that Retha was a double, or multiple agent. He knew what his fate would be if the authorities got hold of him, as he had considered working for them at one time. Head down, he chose.
"Send me home."
"Any of your possessions here are forfeit. You no doubt will have problems with your banker, losing all your collateral, but thatís life."
Glen looked over at Dr. Saslo, who nodded emphatically. He continued, "Right now you are going to spend the next 30 days in the hole. Assuming we get this all sorted out by then, you will be dumped on a plane and shipped home, with empty pockets. If you even think about telling anyone about this place, you will be brought back by force and turned over to the National Prison to serve a life sentence."
Glen turned to Ralph. "Strictly incommunicado. No visitors, no record of his being in your care. A double watch on him 24 hours a day. The guards are not to talk to him or acknowledge anything he says or does. When he expresses a willingness to talk, I am to be notified immediately, night or day."
Ralph spoke into his cell phone. Immediately two husky guards came into the room. Efficiently manhandling the helpless prisoner they had him collared and close chained in a matter of† seconds. Ralph repeated Glenís order, twice reminding his men that this was to be followed to the letter. One guard immediately went back to their vehicle and came back with a hood, which he slid into place and locked around Jadronís neck.
After they took him away, stumbling in his chains, Glen looked at Dr. Saslo and breathed a sigh of relief. The doctor nodded again. "Thank heavens thatís over. Jadron was a good friend - or at least I thought he was. I was flabbergasted when you told me that the girl was spying for him. I didnít want to believe it at first, but I knew we had to act fast. Ralph caught him as he was getting ready to go out. He didnít resist, but he denied almost everything we suggested. You must have done a good job on the spy girl to get all that information."
"You can credit Dwight. He did the groundwork and really opened her up. Heís THE† perfect person as warden. She was ready to talk long before he let her. We knew that time was important, but we figured with all the confusion over the President that we could take some extra time to ensure that our information was accurate."
"He certainly deserves a bonus after this - and so do you."
"Iíd agree with one for Dwight, but I was just doing my job."
"So was Dwight. Iím sure the Board will approve it."
"One more thing. Since Jadron was on the Board, I think you should meet individually with each Board member and sound out any possible support for him. Who knows what he might have said or done."
"Good idea. We canít be too careful," agreed Dr. Saslo.
Glen went back to his office. The girls were working diligently, wishing that he would tell them what was going on. He knew full well what they wanted, but he ignored them. He went to work on his In box.
At the end of the day Becky greeted him at the door, nude, in light serving chains, holding his drink.
Later, he directed her to remove her chains and position herself on the bed so that he could lock her wrists and ankles to the corner posts. When she was helplessly positioned he loomed over her. "Iím going to tell you a story. A very erotic story. Since I will be keeping your pussy occupied, you may get distracted. I will tell you now, no orgasms. No matter what."
"What" was almost too much. She came within an ace of climaxing just from the promise of an erotic story. Before the long night would be over she fully expected to make that climb again and again, always knowing that harsh punishment awaited a single slip.
He didnít have to warn her. She was too well trained and already familiar with his discipline methods. His order knew no compromise. His delight in doing the unexpected kept her apprehension always at a fever pitch.
The slow penetration of his aching, hard cock was delicious agony for her. The forces within her shuddering body fought tooth and nail against her dwindling control. Glen was fully aware of the internal conflicts and fanned them to roaring flame deliberately, telling her eyes with his exactly how he was battering down her defenses, reading the narrowing gap until she helplessly came.
He stopped when the head of his staff pushed at her cervix, filling her from her labia to the very bottom of her cleft. She groaned, knowing herself already lost, the experience only beginning.
In a soft voice he whispered in her ear, telling her each and every detail of the torture of Amy and the spy, never once mentioning that it had already occurred at the DB. His vivid description seemed to go on for hours while he lay, unmoving. Aroused beyond words, she writhed about his cock, like a butterfly pinned to a branch.
Listening to her Masterís soft voice, barely above a whisper as he described every torture in words that fed gasoline to the flames in her belly, Becky was "all ears" as the saying goes. It was a new experience for her. She had suffered similar pain, but this was the first time a Master had described the cause and effect in such exquisite detail.
Mention of the Wartenberg Wheel and its use on the spyís clit nearly sent her over the top as she recalled a nearly identical scene in which she was the star. She began to pant, a prelude to the burgeoning climax that clamored to be released. Glen calmed her, laying his finger on her lips to silence her. The remembered pain started her writhing again on the hard cock that pinned her to the bed. She forced her mouth closed, trying to breath silently through her nose.
"Youíve been tortured with the wheel."
Becky nearly missed the comment addressed to her, not as a question, but still requiring an answer. Her brain was lost in a fog of virtual pain.
Hesitantly, fearing where the question would lead, she responded, "Yessss... Master."
"Have I described the results correctly? Tell me about your experience. Every detail."
"Master, your words were right on the mark. I was tortured as punishment for touching a Masterís cock with my teeth, during my training."
"They tied my arms behind me, then laid me on my back in a box of sharp gravel. They pulled my legs up over my head and tied my ankles to a spreader bar fixed on a post. I was completely exposed."
"The trainer shoved the wheel into my asshole. I was so tight the wheel wouldnít turn, so the sharp teeth scraped bits of flesh that came out with it. Then he pulled my pussy open and taped the lips to my thighs. My clit was standing at attention. By the time he had rolled it across my clit twice, I was screaming. Before long I was screaming continuously."
"I was told finally that if I stopped screaming, he would stop the wheel. He timed me and made me remain silent for a full minute, while he pressed harder and harder. I was sent back to my training, but I had to get up in front of all the girls and their trainers, describe what I just told you and then masturbate my clit. Despite how sore it was, I had to do this every day for a week. I of course was never allowed to come during training, so I had to stop and announce that I was ready to climax, hear them say Ďpermission deniedí and go on with my training."
"Sounds like they did a good job of training you."
"Master, their training methods were harsh and unforgiving. I would slit my wrists before I would go through that again. I learned, but at a terrible cost."
"So, if I sent you to the Discipline Barrack for a week of their tender mercies, Iíd stand a good chance of getting a lifeless body back."
"No, Master. In your service I have something to look forward to. It may be painful, but it is worth it to get a chance to serve you. Yes, I fear the DB and will do everything I can to avoid ever having to arrive at their door in chains, but when it is over I know you will be waiting for me."
"And, if I punish you for being absent from your post?"
"It would be a penalty that I deserve. It would be my mistake that would set off the events, so your punishment would be richly deserved."
Becky was a smart girl. She looked into her future, seeing the pain that pleased her Master, wondering if she could accept the increases that would come as he continued to test her limits. She knew that the more he found out about her, the more stringent his methods of causing her pain would become. She would have to grow with her Master, keep up with him at all costs. He was confirming again and again that she was a pain slut, not needing her confessions to know to please her with pain.
Glen changed the subject, "How long can you keep dancing on my cock? You act like your panties are full of ants."
"Master, I havenít worn panties in years. Not since I became a slave. To answer your question, I need to come so bad that it hurts. My ovaries are tied up in knots and it feels like a coiled spring is jammed into my uterus, waiting for a single word from you."
"Right now, the word is Ďno.í I still havenít told you all the story and Iím going to be very curious to find out just what will cause you to lose control."
Becky groaned, shuddered, accepting her fate, but determined to stretch it out as long as possible in the vain hope that her Master would tire of torturing her. She felt his cock move deep inside her as he shifted position slightly. After a secondís pause the loud whisper resumed as he talked of torture and retribution. She willed herself to stop writhing, but the words kept coming and soon her body was moving about his implacable pivot again.
The next afternoon, when Glen returned to the DB, Ralph was waiting as usual. Spy girl was waiting too, but in far less comfort. She was locked in a cage that looked like an inverted "L," leaving her bent over and offering her ass to one and all. The cage was barely large enough to contain her, and her wrists and ankles were chained to the bars, eliminating almost any movement.
Ralph chuckled, running his fingers along a vivid welt on her ass cheeks.
"I diverted some of the NS men in here. Even hooded they were able to encourage her to move."
He reached in and unlocked the tight gag that filled her mouth to overflowing. She gasped as her breathing returned to normal. Glen noted she didnít say a word. She was obviously smart enough to know when to keep silent, especially after experiencing the rejection earlier.
He held a straw in a glass to her lips. Lubrication for her vocal cords, not a case of getting soft. She would not enjoy the liquid in the glass, evidenced by the sputtering that she was already doing. Ralph laid the whip against her ass, warning enough. She took a deep breath, then sucked frantically on the straw. It took three breaths to empty the glass.
"You get to drink another glass if you donít remember your manners."
Hastily she responded, "Thank you, Master!"
"What did you forget to tell us?"
The restless night seemed to have jogged her memory. She reeled off six names, all residents or employees. She knew an amazing amount of detail as to each person and their job. The seventh person was a personal slave that belonged to Jadron, the Board member.
Glen and Ralph worked on her for several hours. There were no new names, but there were pieces that ultimately fit together to display a large scale plot and counterplot that could have wrecked the castle.
After locking her up for the night, Glen and Ralph went back to his office. He poured them drinks and then Glen got down to business. "There are, or were, at least four entities that want Little Miss Blabbermouth, either on their torture rack, or buried six feet under. Youíve got a small cell?"
"Thereís one on the lower level thatís six feet square, by five feet high."
"Good! I want her head locked in a brank with a mouthpiece that will take a tube, to feed her. She is to be double chained, welded to her collar, belt, wrists, ankles and one chain to a ring in the floor or wall. You have steel mitts?"
"I donít want her writing notes. I want two of your most reliable guards watching her 24 hours a day. She is to have no contact, no visitors and no conversation with the guards. She is not to be let out of her cell without my specific permission. She is to be given a signal, known only to the guards, when she has something to tell us that she remembered. Notify me at once if this happens. She is to be suitably punished if the information is deemed unimportant. You can interrogate her at any time, but leave her in the cell. And, no record of her being here."
"Right. At least we know that probably none of her contacts were aware of others, so if we keep her locked up we can pick them off as the names come up. Say, that slave of Jadronís, Iíd like to get my hands on her for a few days."
"Youíre welcome to her. If she knows anything important Iíd like to be notified."
"Glad to. Iíll make you a bet she knew exactly what Jadron was doing."
"Quite likely. Go ahead and pick her up. Sheís in a holding cell in the main dungeon. Get her out of there as quickly as possible and donít spare the horses on your interrogation. If you have another cell like spy girlís, treat her the same way until we know the full extent of whatís been going on."
Glen met later with Dr. Saslo. He detailed all they had learned from the spy, and their plans for Jadronís slave. In return the Doctor described his talks with the board members.
"Only one of them seemed to have any knowledge of what Jadron was doing, and as I talked to him I realized that he had been cleverly diverted by a story about something that had nothing to do with Jadronís real plans, so he actually didnít know anything that would be of help to us.
Glenís cell phone chimed. Careful of electronic eavesdropping, Ralphís message was cryptic. "He is ready."
"Iíll be right over."
When he reached the interrogation room, Jadron was visibly dejected, slumping against his chains. Ralph, standing behind him, was grinning. Calmly he swung his hand, colliding hard with Jadronís cheek, his head bobbing from the force of the blow.
"Tell the man!"
Head down the captive spoke hesitantly, afraid of another cuff. His story was of betrayal. He was working with friends of the President to take over the castle by force and hand it to him on a silver platter, as it were.
"They were going to pay me $2 million for my part in the plot. I was to create a diversion to draw the security people into the main dungeon where I could trap them while the Presidentís troops occupied the castle."
"How stupid are you? You would have been lined up and shot the first day. People like that donít want witnesses and they sure donít intend to waste money on a loser like you!"
Glen could tell by the expression on Jadronís face that he had hit home with his prediction. Jadron had never run with the big boys before, but after it was too late to back out, he had fully realized that his survival chances were zilch.
"Put him back in the hole. Thatís enough for one day."
Dr. Saslo was still up, waiting to hear the results of the interrogation. He frowned as Glen filled him in.
"This guy is too dangerous for us to handle. Heíll do anything to avoid a bullet in the back of the head. Why donít you contact someone in the new administration and see if we can arrange a swap for some of the female slaves that the President kept at his house?It will be interesting to see if he survives a life term in the NP."
Both men grinned at the subtle joke.
Glen got on the telephone. The high ranking official that took his call expressed immediate interest and shut Glen off before he said more. Glen thought it interesting that tapped phones were not unknown in the upper echelons of the country.
Just as Glen prepared to break for lunch, his receptionist escorted a military officer into his office. Glen shook hands with him and suggested lunch. The officer agreed, but asked that it be brought in while they talked in his office. "I assume your office is swept regularly for bugs?"
"We started doing it after we discovered the President had tapped into our security camera system, as well as the phones."
As if by magic a tasty lunch appeared and the two were soon eating as they talked. Glen summed it up, "Weíve got a guy who was working for the President, or at least his friends. He was on our Board and was using his position to set things up for troops to take over the castle. We were going to send him home, but decided he was too dangerous for us and would be better handled by the new administration. We have enough on him to keep him quiet under normal circumstances, but we were concerned that he might be bullied into harming us. They offered him $2 million, but he knows as well as we do that he would have wound up dead as soon as the occupation was successful."
The officer nodded. "We would be quite interested in taking this man into custody. I can promise you 10 female slaves from the Presidentís home in exchange."
Glen smiled. "There were at least 40 that we know of. Even my wife was a Ďguestí of the President, so perhaps you can sweeten your offer."
The officer laughed. "Yes, I heard about that. A bit unusual to be married to a slave, eh?"
"Itís been known to happen. She doesnít rate special treatment, so sheís going to languish for a year in the DB for her escape attempt. I donít expect to have any problems with her after that."
Glen chewed silently for a moment, then looked the officer in the eye. "You were going to sweeten the offer."
"If youíll settle for 20, we can do business."
"Iíd settle for 25 and throw in a transcript of everything we learned from him."
"Sir, you drive a hard bargain! Five slaves arenít worth wasting breath, so you have a deal. Where do you want them delivered?"
"We can put them in the main castle dungeon for now, until we get them sorted out. Any in the group that we should know about? Flight risks?"
"There are two or three that were abducted off the streets that might put up a fuss, but even they will shut up when they hear the benefits youíve been offering to the company slaves."
"You seem to know an awful lot about our operation."
"Yes, Iíve been following this development closely. We thought for a time you were in league with the President, but when we found that he was tapping your circuits, we decided that you were in the clear. I have been here a couple of times before you took over, on official business of course."
Glen couldnít help smirking, and the officer broke into a big grin. Glen assured him, "Any time you can come down weíll be glad to show you a good time."
"One thing I havenít seen yet is your Discipline Barrack. Iíve been promoted to overseeing the National Prison, so any new equipment or methodology would be helpful."
The innocent sounding request set off alarm bells for Glen. Wondering just what he knew about recent events and the prisoners, he nodded, "Glad to show you around. The warden is an expert at interrogation, including breaking Jadron."
"Iíd love to go through it this afternoon, but I have a staff meeting at 3, so, as you Americanís say, Iíll take a rain check. Iíll send a bus down with the slaves in the morning and you can load Jadron onto it for the return trip. Iíll have a special welcome waiting for him. We never have been accused of coddling our prisoners. This one is a real bad apple, so weíll treat him accordingly."
"Thatís great, because we donít want to tie up the manpower to keep watch over him. Heís useless to us."
With a feigned look of disappointment, the officer responded,
"Except as a bargaining chip. Actually we have to get rid of all the slaves. Officers below the rank of General donít rate a personal slave."
Glen smiled. "Any time youíre in the area youíre welcome to make yourself comfortable in the guest rooms in the castle. The attendants are some of the best trained in the world."
"Ha, Iíll probably be back down in a couple of weeks, to pin a medal on you for catching this guy."
Glen almost turned it down, thought better of it and promised,
"Iíll be looking forward to it."
The officer stood up, shook hands with Glen, who walked him to the car waiting to take him to the airport.
"Let me know if there are any problems with the shipment."