by Raul Roget
Slave petra made it clear immediately that martha was going to suffer both mentally and physically. Before beginning her duties in Master Allenís bed, she unhooked martha from the wall and made her kneel in the middle of the floor. Petra walked all the way around her, then began jerking on the straps, tightening every strap at least one hole. When she got to the tit press petra pointedly picked up the fly swatter.
Holding it menacingly, she said in the sweetest of tones, "Slave, is there something you would like to ask me?"
Martha knew exactly what she had in mind. Bowing her head she begged, "Please, Mistress, whip my nipples before you tighten the tit press."
Petra continued to hold the swatter inches from marthaís nose.
Resigned, martha gave in. "Please, Mistress, whip my nipples hard, before you tighten the tit press."
Petra turned, without a word, and walked to the wall where a variety of whips hung. Martha wanted to watch her, but she was facing the bed and dared not move. She could hear petra moving the whips, trying each one with a whir that was loud in the room. She avoided wincing at the sounds, but at great risk to what little mental control remained. The evening had barely started and it was not going at all well for the deposed first slave.
Petra returned with a short tailed flogger. Hard leather, more knots than strap, each tipped with a lead weight.
"I believe you said..."
Petra obliged. A lead weight concealed in her hand flew across the room, hitting the wall with a thud. Martha screwed her eyes shut, tricked into believing she had been hit much harder than actually was the case. The flogger landed again. Martha screamed inside, allowing only a moan to escape her lips.
"Did I tell you to close your eyes?"
Marthaís eyes shot open, very wide. "No, Mistress."
"For that, the word is...?"
"Harder, Mistress." Her answer was almost a whisper.
"Your new word is Ďlouder.í I want to hear your answers.
"My idea exactly." Sarcasm dripped from every word as the flogger landed again.
Petra tightened each wingnut a quarter turn. Martha moaned again, louder. "Comfy?"
"You are a liar, as well as a blabbermouth. I think you need another test of your collar. Would you mind if I try it at the full five?"
"Please, Mistress, not at five! I couldnít take that!"
"Ah, a little honesty, for a change. Since you are now last slave, you have no voice in the matter. Lie on the floor --† on your stomach."
Martha was helpless in the tightly constricted straitjacket. She leaned sideways and fell on her side, quickly twisting her legs to lever herself onto her stomach, much of her weight pressing her sore nipples into the wood. The stiff leather provided little in the way of cushioning for her fall. She tried to hold her head up. "Nose to the floor, slave!"
She lowered her head carefully, until her nose barely touched, still supporting her head with straining neck muscles. Petra made a cynical face and turned the remote to five. She popped the button, less than a second, but an eon for martha, whose world exploded in pain. Her muscles convulsed, slamming her nose into the hard floor. Her legs flew out and up, snapping her ankle hobble taut with a clash of metal on metal. Her arms, already in a taut hug, constricted in a bear hug that robbed all her breath.
When at last she got her breathing under control, if not full use of her lung capacity, she remembered her place.
"Thank you for punishing a slave, Mistress."
Master Allen had been watching the byplay with considerable interest, as demonstrated by the cock stand he was sporting, and massaging gently with his hand. He was still baffled by whatever was behind marthaís total lapse of judgement. That didnít stop him from appreciating petraís handling of the problem.
Petra was on a roll. There were so many incidents, so many unwarranted punishments, so many insults. Pay back time, long overdue, was now here. Both slaves recognized the situation for exactly what it was and what it meant. Martha knew she could expect no mercy, already snubbed by Master Allen. Petra had been nursing a grudge for so long that it crowded everything else out of her mind. She had waited patiently for the fall from grace that this represented and she had the thoughts of many lonely, pain-filled nights, planning revenge, to draw on. She could easily write a book, "If I had martha in my power..."
Now was the hour. Master Allen had placed no limits. On the contrary, he had clearly indicated that martha be severely punished for the calamity she had nearly caused. Even so, petra had some qualms about how far to go. She knew Master Allen would stop her if she crossed the line, but despite her new -- limited -- power, she was still a slave, still subject to slave discipline and she knew that if she did cross the line, her punishment would be swift and sure, and no doubt right in front of martha.
Petra was tempted to ask for a limit, but she knew that the question alone could be punished. This was no time to screw up. What she needed to do was demonstrate that she could be as cruel as the most sadistic Master. She had been appointed to an important job, in effect Master Allenís personal assistant -- with all that it implied. She had to fill that too, so much depended on the next few weeks.
Right now her task was to make life as miserable as possible for martha, plus making her reveal her bedroom secrets. Master Allen had already expressed serious doubts that she had any secrets to reveal, but petra intended to wring every last method from her reluctant lips. She already regretted using the shocker on her at full strength because martha probably would give in too easily. Petra had plans for her, plans that would turn marthaís hair white overnight. That reminded petra of her intent to have marthaís head shaved bald.
Petra inspected the drawers and cabinets, filled to overflowing with bondage gear. A particularly virulent assortment of obscenely large gags drew her attention, but were earmarked "later" as she wanted every word martha spoke to be heard by her Master.
Petra was almost as contemptuous of marthaís reputed talents as Master Allen was. Petra had the advantage of weeks on the rotation. She had learned more than just a thing or two from the many men who had fucked her. No two had been exactly alike, so she had in effect taken a graduate course in pleasing men. She knew she had learned more than Martha had, sitting in an office and confined to pleasing one man.
There was still the fact that Master Allen was undoubtedly different than any man she had experienced. That did mean that there was always more to learn -- and if she didnít satisfy Master Allen, she could very easily be back at the bottom of the heap, with martha grinning down at her.
Petra found the item she was looking for -- a kneeling stick. She laid the stick, with the sharpest edge up, beside the bed. Martha didnít wait for orders. Obediently she knee walked forward, planting both knees firmly on the triangle. The fiery pain was instantaneous. The night hadnít even started.
Petra announced, "With all that kicking and squirming your leather jacket probably has loosened up. Would you like me to tighten it?"
Martha had no choice. "No" would bring more punishment. "Yes" would reinforce her label as a liar.
"Where are your manners, lying slave?"
"Yes, PLEASE, Mistress."
Petra tightened everything, consciously rough to impress her power over the helpless slave. Then she went to the other side of the bed and lowered herself beside her Master. Her hand quested and found his erection, gently easing his hand away to replace it with a feminine grip that would change steel to stainless steel.
"Is this the kind of foreplay you meant? Talk to ME, girl to girl, as if you Master wasnít taking in every lying word."
"Yes, Mistress. Master likes a firm grip, just as you are doing."
Petra moved over him, her mouth sliding down until her nose was buried in his hair. She pulled away, smacking her lips.
"Is that the way you went down on him, to give him joy?"
"Yes, Mistress. Master likes to go down your throat."
"I believe the term is Ďdeep throatí is it not?"
Petra resumed deep throating him. When she pulled away, her query was, "Is this the way you made him come?"
"Yes, Mistress. If he doesnít stop you."
"Why should he stop you? You werenít doing it to his satisfaction?"
"He was satisfied, Mistress, but he wanted to come on my face."
"So, you are saying your Master is a pervert?"
"NO, Mistress! I would never say that about Master. He enjoys seeing his sperm on my face. Thatís all. Iím told many men like to do this."
"Then you lack experience. Doing it and being told of others are two different things. You do lack experience, donít you?"
"Yes, Mistress. Master is only the third man to do me."
"I understand you are now going on the rotation. That is an experience you wonít soon forget, but you will learn a lot from it. Just be thankful you didnít yet get the group whipping some of the Masters wanted to give you."
Marthaís face went white. She knew, without being told,† that she had avoided the whips by the narrowest of margins. To learn, from her worst enemy, that it still hung over her head made her want to puke.† For a second she thought the unthinkable -- escape.
Petra, watching her like a hawk, caught the flicker of expression.
"Slave! You just thought of escaping!"
"I... I... I..." she stuttered, stunned that petra had read her thoughts. Petra looked triumphantly at Master Allen, who grinned back at her.
"Thinking about it is the first step toward trying to escape," growled Master Allen. "Iím adding a punishment helmet to your regalia. You wonít see far enough to escape with that on!" That she would be placed under 24-hour guard was something he didnít tell her.
Martha was subdued and Petra was back on her case in a moment. "Slave, does he enjoy seeing you in stringent bondage?"
"Yes, Mistress. The tighter the better, He enjoys seeing you helpless."
"Does he caress you? Whip you? Finger your pussy?"
"All of those, and more. He likes to torture you if you are ticklish, using feathers and pencils and other things."
"Or pens, Mistress. He draws on the soles of your feet, driving you insane with laughter."
"Do you come when you are tickled?"
"No, Mistress. It is forbidden."
"Would you come if you had permission?"
"It is forbidden. It is part of my sentence."
"Then if I, or Master decided to tickle you to orgasm, you would be punished."
"Yes, Mistress. I probably would get whipped for such a violation."
"Did Master use a dildo or a vibrator on you?"
"Yes, Mistress. If I made a mistake in the office I would have to spend the next day with a vibrator locked in me. He would set it on low so I couldnít come. Then when evening came he would first forbid me to come, then turn the vibrator on high and make me come."
"Then, you have a history of being disobedient?"
Martha dropped her head. "As Master wishes," was her cryptic answer.
"He likes it when you misbehave and he has a reason to punish you?"
"Yes, Mistress. He would deliberately find fault with my work, knowing that I knew why he was doing it. A slave will do anything to please her Master."
"Anything special that he did to you with a dildo?"
"I have three holes. He frequently used a dildo in one or all three, but I didnít think any of it was unusual or special."
"Not even in your asshole? Most women would consider that a gross invasion."
"Mistress, I wasnít experienced enough to realize it was unusual. I went along with it, as I assumed it was part of my slave duties."
"Your nipples have been taking the brunt of your punishment. What about your clit? Ever get punished on it?"
"Yes, Mistress. When I made a real mistake or misbehaved outrageously, he would whip my clit, with a special wire whip."
"Outrageous? Such as?"
"If I puked up his seed, or let it escape past my lips, he would punish me."
"Tell me, if you can avoid lying, why you deliberately put the Masters and this ranch in jeapordy?"
"Mistress, at the risk of being called a liar again, I did not do it deliberately. I recognized immediately that sandra was a prime candidate for slavery. I was concentrating on bringing her latent feelings to the surface. In the excitement over recruiting a new slave I forgot the rules and told her about the slaves who were here avoiding jail. It didnít take two seconds to realize what I had done. The only thing that saved me was that sandra asked to become a slave. I know that if she had left the ranch that all the Masters would be in jail. I know it was a very dumb thing for me to do, so I must accept my punishment and repent my hasty words."
Petra glanced at Master Allen. She could tell by the look on his face that he didnít believe her, despite her willingness to originally accept full blame.
Out of pure curiosity, petra asked, "Who else was in on this, who else did you tell?"
Martha looked sincerely puzzled. "No one, Mistress. Master Dale already knew about it. I didnít speak to anyone else."
"Then you spoke to Master Dale about it?"
"No, Mistress. Sandra told me that Master Dale had mentioned that there were some of the slaves that were here in special circumstances. He didnít seem to know they were evading jail.
I didnít say anything to him, but sandra may have told him later."
"I think I know pretty much all that I need to know. Frankly you didnít have much to tell me, a lie which Iím sure will not go unpunished. In the meantime, you will remain on guard in your present position until you are dismissed."
Petra turned to Master Allen. "Master, how would you like me restrained? Limbs to the four corners of the bed, or..."
"Your wrist and ankle shackles will suffice. You will need to move, from time to time."
Slave Martha would not dare move. She was forced to watch -- reminded to keep her eyes open -- as Master Allen enjoyed his new first slave. Seeing martha in her tight bondage drove them both to a sexual frenzy that lasted into the wee hours of the morning. At the end a security guard came and escorted martha to the dungeon cell she would occupy. Before locking the door he enjoyed her mouth, then left her in her straitjacket, after adding the punishment helmet that Master Allen had ordered for her.
Master Allen was determined that slave martha become an object lesson for all the other slaves. Slave petra, finally out from under her thumb and on top of the heap, rejoiced in her own private way, especially after Master Allen outlined his plans for martha.
Hearing what martha would be enduring was a sobering influence on petra. She had been at the bottom. Now she was at the top, but every breath seemed to whisper, "For the moment!" Master Allen had made it perfectly clear. Like the other slaves she enjoyed rank and privilege, only at the suffering of the Masters.
Still to be resolved was any animosity from christeen. The clerk had been on Georgeís ranch with martha and had worked closely with her in the office here at the Queen Ranch. Petra knew one of her first tasks would be to confront christeen and find out exactly where her loyalties lay.
She knew she would have to work especially hard to win any comparison with the efficient martha, both in the office and in the bedroom. She was confident of her sexual abilities after her first night, but the office was another matter.
Master Allen fully recognized the problems she was facing, but it was clear from his attitude that she would be expected to do the job perfectly or be punished for the slightest mistake. He did relieve the pressure by calling christeen on the carpet and strenuously interrogating her with petra kneeling beside his desk.
To use an old Yankee expression, christeen knew which side her bread was buttered on and repeatedly assured Master Allen and petra that her loyalties were strictly to the ranch and not to martha. Master Allen bluntly warned her that the slightest hint of problems would put her kneeling beside martha and equally sharing her punishment.
Master Allen had plenty to think about. The plans for the ranch that he and the other Masters had worked out were coming along well. Most of the construction was finished. The blacksmith shop was complete and Arlo had move in from the temporary shop. Anyone within several hundred yards could hear the steady pound of his hammers as he shaped and finished more and more devices to restrain or punish the slaves.
The dining room had been expanded to handle the increased staff. Verna was in seventh heaven, constantly swirling her serving chains, especially when Jeff came in for a cup of coffee. She of course knew about marthaís demotion and was rubbing her hands, looking forward to the days when martha would be assigned to her kitchen.
For the rest of the slaves the change in first slaves had been of interest, but most of them were not directly affected by the† move. Martha had been a known quantity, strict and a good teacher. Petra was an unknown, despite her highly visible punishments after her abortive escape attempt. The slaves were resigned to having to learn how to please this new first slave.
Master Allen was still shaking his head over the surprise twist that delivered sandra into his hands. It made him physically sick just to think about the damage she could have caused with her story and a picture or two. He would have loved to toss her in a dungeon and never let her see the light of day again, but her voluntary slavery had solved the problem for him.
The ranch hands and the security guards were showing a remarkable amount of restraint. They seemed to have easily gotten used to having nude females parading around them day in and day out. Having all the sex they wanted was a perk that most considered the most valuable. The rotation system, moving slaves from Master to Master each night was getting rave reviews. The men were learning new tricks and the slaves were getting the best possible training in pleasing men, and on frequent occasions, each other.
Master Allen dumped a large box on petraís desk. It was filled with training manuals, course outlines and other paperwork she would need to step in as the chief instructor. Her classroom duties required her immediate attention. Fortunately she remembered the important parts from training classes she had been in where martha had been teaching.
As petra took her first class, martha was otherwise occupied. She had been roused from her fitful sleep on the concrete floor at 5 a.m. by the security guard. Under his watchful eye she was leashed and dragged outside, where she was allowed to squat and pee. Then she was hosed off with cold water. Still dripping she was taken back inside and locked into a tight chastity belt, which secured a pair of dildos in her holes. The guard set both to vibrate on low.
He took her to the new blacksmith shop where Arlo already had his forge going, the fiery glow showing through the windows as they approached. Martha went to her knees and bowed her head before him. Arlo barely glanced down at her, contempt showing on his face. He knew all the details and like all the other Masters he was determined that martha was going to continue to bitterly regret her goof for endless days to come.
He got his key ring and unlocked the metal and the wood collars around her neck. Martha wanted badly to twust and roll her head to get the kinks out of her neck, but she knew it would draw further punishment down on her.
Arlo walked over to the wall and lifted down a new collar. Attached to it was a long bar, with a heavy pair of manacles at the lower end. Swiftly he fitted the wide collar about her neck.† As it locked, martha was forced to extend her neck and still found it pushing her chin up. He removed her manacles and connecting chain and brought her arms behind her and locked her wrists in the waiting iron at the end of the bar. They locked about her wrists and pressed on the bone. He adjusted the clamp, sliding the manacles down the bar until her arms were pulled sharply downward. Then he adjusted the connector at her collar, pulling her arms away from her body and tightening it to hold the bar in that position.
Arlo took her leash and hung it on the wall. He lifted a 10 foot length of heavy chain from another hook and brought it back. He used his foot to guide martha to the anvil. She knelt with her collar resting on the anvil horn. Arlo brought an open link, which he threaded through the last link in the chain and a loop on her collar. With a small sledge he hammered the link shut, attaching the leash chain permanently to her collar. Martha could feel the drag of the few links that were off the floor. She accepted the inevitable, her life was changing, forever.
Fully ironed, martha was moved to a wooden stock that laid flat, holding her ankles and feet up behind her. Arlo used a special whip he made himself, using dozens of fine piano wire lengths. He alternated feet and direction, whipping toe to heel or side to side until martha was shrieking with the pain. Arlo told her bluntly, "You wonít walk away from the ranch now!" He released her ankles. "On your feet!"
The guard and Arlo laughed at the hapless slave as she tried to obey. She got both feet on the floor, then collapsed when she tried to put weight on them, wincing with pain. "Remember this when you plan your next escape." Martha wanted to protest, deny any serious plan to escape but once more she realized she would only earn more punishment. Everything traced back to her monumental mistake in talking to sandra. Now, thanks to her own efforts, sandra was Daleís slave -- and already outranked her.
Without further ceremony the guard knee-walked martha to a spot in the gravel driveway directly in front of the dining room. Her chain was locked to a post with an impossibly huge padlock. It hung in a bow to marthaís neck, making sure she would support much of its weight.
She was given her orders. She knelt and waited. It was nearly an hour before the first Master came by, headed for breakfast, walking his slave at his heels. Martha raised her head.
"Master, please use my mouth. Mistress, may I lick you between your legs. Or, you are welcome to use the whip hanging on the post."
She felt panic as they ignored her and continued into the dining room. Martha had been ordered to fill a quota -- a dozen Masters and a dozen slaves, or a hundred lashes. Another Master approached. She begged. He ignored her. It was a bad start to the day.
What would tomorrow bring?