Ramos stared into the wall, thinking about his next move, completely ignoring the nude body at his feet. Sandra remained prone, every nerve twitching, her pain mounting by the second. She kept from moaning or crying out only by scaring herself silly with fantasy punishments. "If he did ‘this' to me, or if he did ‘that' to me, how long would I keep screaming?"
Finally he returned his gaze to the room. He took in Sandra's quivering body in a quick glance. Intently he picked up the contract, got out his cell phone and called the trust's number. The receptionist felt his power even through the phone and in seconds had him connected to the family member who managed the trust.
Ramos explained his call, quickly confirming that the $10,000 was the offered salary. He asked about the contract and listened silently to a lengthy explanation. Bluntly, Ramos asked, "Do you do the hiring, or does she?"
He listened for several moments, then responded, "This is a 24/7 job. She needs a firm hand, which I can provide. If you'll up the ante to $25,000 a month with an unlimited budget for tools and equipment I'll take her on."
He listened for a long minute, then expressed his thanks and snapped the phone back on his belt. He looked down and moved his boot, prodding her collar. Wearily she raised her head, but her eyes never went above his boots. The sudden movement after lying so still set off cramps in her neck and the calf of one leg.
Ramos chuckled, dirtier than the dirtiest of laughs. "Slave, the classic phrase for this situation is: ‘Your ass is mine!"'
He paused, then went on, "Your brother said just what I said, that you are a raving masochist and a pain slut to boot. Your care and feeding has already run well into six figures and you're barely out of college. I suppose I should bow to you - Master's degree and all that, but it doesn't mean shit when you're on the wrong end of a whip."
"Right now, the important thing is that this piece of paper isn't worth a hill of beans. Your brother gave me the green light to do anything I choose to do to make your life a living hell. He even urged me to take the list of don'ts and do every fucking one of them to you - starting with your ass. Now that's what I call brotherly love. Someday, after I get you broken to harness, as they say about horses, I'm going to make you tell me why they are going to such great lengths and spending so much money to satisfy your strange sexual urges. You understand, that your so-called contract is null and void?"
Her voice cracked as she responded, "Yes, Master."
He looked down at her, watching the shock twist her face. This was going to be a blast, but secretly he wondered just how far he could go to satisfy both her and her brother, without doing irreparable damage to either her body, or mind, or both.
She, in turn, didn't know whether to shout with joy, jump to her feet and hug Ramos or remain still. She fully realized that her life was in his hands from this moment, until he tired of her. The other half cringed, thinking of the endless pain and suffering that would occupy her life.
She had already been down this path a dozen times. Most of the hired guns had been small caliber clones of the man that Ramos had run off. Men who either were afraid to go too far, wanted to go that far and further, and those that had to have every move directed for them. This, she was sure, was going to be different. Later, she would wonder how Ramos managed to get the job without a resume, recommendations or even a face-to-face talk with her brother. She wasted little breath on that, needing every bit of strength to survive her rigorous slave training.
Ramos first made sure that Sandra fully realized that she was no longer a free woman. Blunt words and a whip sealed the bargain. The unceremonious degradation was memorable as Ramos required her to crawl to the basement, select the whip she would least like used on her and bring it back upstairs in her teeth. Her name was forfeit and she had to answer and respond to "Slave" at all times. "Free" of course was a misnomer as she never was released from the shackles and cuffs she wore when he first arrived.
Then he touched on vocabulary. She was already trained to some of the usual slave rules. He had noted her smooth transition to calling him "Master," but to him it was only the first tiny step toward full slavery. She had recognized his authority by speaking only when he asked a question, but Ramos knew that the perfect slave didn't exist, except in fantasy.
"As punishment for trying to foist that paper of yours on me, you will be limited to certain words that you may use. Even those will fail you in some circumstances. For example, you may use ‘hard' or ‘harder' in most cases, but woe to you if you overdo it and there is a potential for injury. You may name any instrument of punishment in response to my question, but again, if you overdo it or I believe you are trying to curry favor, you will suffer for your temerity."
Then he dropped a bombshell. "During your training you will never speak a complete sentence. Where possible you will use a single word - ‘yes' and ‘no' - are two examples. ‘No' is an absolutely last resort as an answer. You will be punished every time you use it anyway, and severely punished if I feel you are attempting to evade a penalty. You will ALWAYS include ‘Master' with whatever words you say."
"You will, as I assume you long since have learned, consider my every word as a command. You will eat, sleep, breathe, climax, piss or shit on my word. There is no appeal and there will be no compromising or reduction of sentence. For instance, you are breathing right now. I may decide to stop that at any time, so never consider breathing as a right. Instead it is one more thing that makes you totally dependent on me.
"‘Please' is for sissies. You will never use it. This of course is going to cause you problems, as a word without it becomes a demand and no matter how you dress it up, a slave is never allowed to demand, or order or do anything else without my order. The same is true - as you already have figured out - for incomplete sentences. There is no way that you can fix a word or phrase so that it doesn't come out like an order, so it will be treated accordingly.
"Words like ‘fast,'‘faster,' ‘deep' and ‘deeper' are good words to add to your list, but remember, like the other words, they are a command and will be treated as such. You will have ample opportunity to practice your words as you will be on a variable schedule. Your days may be eight hours, 12 hours, 18 or even 24 hours at my order. My personal preference is to put two or three 24s back to back to suitably impress you with the mistakes you will be paying for.
"The times will be rare when you end a slave day with less black marks than you had when you went in. There will be times when you will be forced to superhuman efforts just to catch up. Your ability to redeem marks will depend entirely on the progress of your training. The slightest hesitation in using your vocabulary or in obeying a command will shower black marks on your head. I have several excruciating ways of redeeming them as you will learn."
Ramos paused, sniffed the air and then leaned down and slid his fingers between her thighs. They came away damp, so he wiped them under her nose.
"You are enjoying this. That is forbidden. I want you dry as the Sahara desert at ALL times! When I fuck you, I will choose whether to use any lubrication. That's five black marks."
He reached down again - "ten black marks" and a third time - "15 black marks."
Slave got the message, but as Ramos well knew, controlling this particular body function was akin to pulling the moon out of its orbit. Any time he needed an excuse to punish her, she would be oozing lubrication.
Not that he needed an excuse. She knew that trying to live by his exacting rules would be an impossibility as far as avoiding punishment. She was beginning to get an inkling that the key pieces in her dungeon - the rack and the cross, among others - were being held back as a major penalty. Their use would be pure torture, meaning an even higher level of pain.
"Tomorrow morning you will begin your slave training. I'm sure your maso bent will be happier than a pig in clover. Be warned, what I am planning for you is NOT going to be fun. If I get the slightest hint at any time that you are enjoying this, you can figure on doing a lot of screaming. Also be warned, as I said earlier, this is for MY enjoyment, not yours. I will have fun hurting you, not the other way around. Your brother and the rest of the family I'm sure will be delighted to see little sister getting her ass kicked into the next county."
"Yes, Master," she said fervently.
"Tonight you will occupy the cage. I doubt if you will get any sleep, but that will condition you for what is to come. Raise the cage two feet in the air, then get in and lock the door. Throw the key at least three feet from the cage."
"One more thing. Your pussy and tits are off limits. Touch them and you'll regret it for some time to come. You could spend the rest of your life with your hands cuffed behind you."
Obediently Slave crawled to the basement. Descending the steps with her hands was difficult. The prospect of a head-first descent with her hands behind her was daunting. She reluctantly realized that he was giving her the benefit of the doubt by not taking her hands away this time. She suspected rightly that she would be quizzed in the morning
Such a simple thing as getting into the cage turned out to be a major hassle. She had been it for half a minute months before, in between trainers, but she had help. Now there was nobody to operate the winch or steady the cage while she crawled in. She made three attempts before she got inside. Several more minutes elapsed before she got legs and arms untangled enough to work properly. The cage was small enough for a child, making it just that much more difficult. She closed and locked the door, then tossed the key out between the bars. It made a loud noise when it hit the floor.
Ramos heard it too. He had silently walked to the top of the stairs, out of Slave's sight but where he could see at least part of what went on. Satisfied, he silently closed the cellar door and went back to her desk. He made a note to install a complete security system monitoring the entire dungeon and the upstairs bedrooms.
With Slave secured he prowled through the rest of the house. He grinned when he discovered the hidden vibrator in Slave's erstwhile bedroom. More detailed searching turned up three pairs of handcuffs. On a hunch he went to the bed. Under each corner between the mattress and the box spring a cuff with a neat coil of sturdy chain lay waiting. At the head there was a third chain at the middle with several locks. Ramos mentally cataloged the restraints, adding them to the list of equipment in the dungeon.
Meanwhile, Slave was having her problems. The too tight cage set off little ripples of claustrophobia, not a real panic attack, but enough to attract her full attention in order to suppress them. This of course fired up her submissiveness, garnished by the fact that she herself had locked her cage and literally thrown away the key.
The result was to be expected. Slave was teetering on the brink of a blockbuster climax. She grimaced, grinding her teeth. Her arousal was a serious problem, not because she was so hot to trot, but because her Master had ordered her not to come, with or without his approval. As she twisted about, trying to get a modicum of comfort, she realized that despite being forbidden, her pussy was literally awash with her juices. She could feel the slickness on her labia, even dripping onto her thighs. Just the feel of all that lubrication was arousing her, exactly opposite to the normal course of events.
She switched her thoughts away, trying to break the cycle leading to disaster. She mentally pictured her new Master. Big, handsome, all powerful. She gasped, realizing her mistake as her body rhythms crested suddenly, unmistakably leading her down the garden path to that orgasm. She lay silent, emptying her mind, staring into the darkness, fighting to control her emotions.
She lay awake for several hours, fighting her body. When she finally slept her nightmares began. Master Ramos would torture her, until she woke, screaming into the absolute darkness. Asleep again, Ramos had a different torture waiting for her. After the fourth or fifth dream, centered on branding irons, she tried to keep herself awake, pinching her skin until she was bruised and bleeding. It didn't stave off her exhaustion. She dreamt again, this time drowning in a small tank. She reached for her nipples, knowing their abuse would keep her awake, but she stopped, her hands in mid air, remembering his "Don't touch" order.
Some time during the night she lost control of her overfilled bladder. She shuddered as she listened to the drops falling into the pan below the cage. The retribution occupied her mind for several minutes, scaring her again and again as she pictured her possible - probable - penalties.
Perhaps the most important thing that happened to Slave during the long night was the realization that Master was absolutely right. He had told her that all this was for his enjoyment, not hers. Even though she was a sneeze away from climaxing. Even though she gained pleasure from being denied. Even though she was leaking juice like a faucet, she realized that indeed, she wasn't really enjoying any of it. She hated the nightmares and the cramped tightness of the cage and the things that were certainly coming, and above all the unknown things she faced.
Her submission forgotten, she fervently wished that she could face Ramos and repeat his words to the other man, "You're fired!"
With a heavy heart she knew she couldn't. Her brother had taken the minuscule authority she once had, destroying the power of her contract and leaving her at the mercy of this Master. This Master, who showed no mercy. She mentally kicked herself for not being satisfied with her early exploration of self bondage. From the time her brother caught her, tied to her bed and victimized by a knot that could not be undone, she had been on a downward spiral.
The family had packed her off to a sanatorium where she spent several months, seducing one of the doctors into keeping her constantly in hospital restraints. After buying Cadillacs for a string of doctors, the family decided to install her in this house. She was allowed to buy whatever equipment she wanted, but as Ramos had found, there were some serious gaps in her choices for the dungeon that had been built in the cellar. The family had paid the bills without a murmur, but even she realized that their patience was wearing thin. If she could have heard the other side of the conversation Ramos had with her brother, it would have confirmed that opinion.
The bad part was the uncertainty. From her first few hours of contact with Ramos, she was sure that he would be a martinet, a strict task master. But, would any of his intents and purposes cross paths with her wants and needs? Already she had reason to doubt that she would gain any satisfaction at all from his treatment of her. All well and good for the immediate future, but what about "tomorrow?" Could she face a life of complete and utter subservience, her every breath regulated, her pain his pleasure?
She vividly remembered his initial comments about a short and painful demise. Despite his contemptuous treatment of his predecessor, she wondered if he too would be tempted to excess by her helpless servitude. The tight shackles on her slim ankles and the equally tight cuffs on her wrists seemed to be symbolic of her future under the thumb of Master Ramos. She had been wearing them for part of a day and all of a night, before he appeared on the scene. He had seen - and ignored - her bondage, even the wide collar that was still locked on her neck. Now another night was passing and there was no hint that Ramos would release her, now, or any time, sooner or later. She refused to think of a future bounded by her fetters.
She seriously considered pleading with her brother to get rid of Ramos and let her live her own life. The utter stupidity of such a move was not lost on her. God knew what it would trigger in Ramos, but the results would without question send him into a rage that would only add to her suffering and pain. Her brother's reaction would be a foregone conclusion. He would laugh in her face. His favorite axiom was: "You made your bed, now lie in it." She expected he might show up to savor her misery, but she was sure of only one thing - he wouldn't touch her - leaving all that to Ramos.
In the meantime, Ramos completed his search of the house, finding little else of interest. He did note that she had a six figure balance in her checkbook. He paused, spending several minutes dreaming of ways he could use that money, but he put those thoughts aside and got down to some serious planning. He opened the door to the basement and could hear Slave's periodic moans and screams as nightmare followed nightmare. He debated visiting her, deciding against it as tending to show he was weak.
By morning he had outlined a full year of training for Slave, running to several pages of notes. On a separate sheet he first listed the equipment she had and then what he needed to buy, or have made. He moved to her computer and checked several of the sites that sold bondage gear. When he added it up, between the store figures and his estimates, as he expected it was going to put a serious dent in her bank account. When he was finished, he went back to several sites and using her credit card, ordered the pieces he wanted, in every case paying extra for overnight delivery.
The process had been a bit dicey. He had found her card in her purse, but there was no indication beyond the fact that it was a platinum card that she had any credit balance. Ramos decided against waking Slave to find out. He crossed his fingers but the transaction went through the first time without a hitch. He grunted in approval. It helped to be backed by old money.
The sun came up as he finished. He yawned, stretched and then headed for the basement.
Slave woke up with a jolt. Ramos had zapped her foot with his stun gun. She yelped and jerked, triggering a muscle cramp in her ankle. Ramos already had picked up the key and unlocked the door. Unbidden she twisted around in the cage until she could emerge. She briefly considered backing out, but instinctively knew it would cost her. Awkwardly she got her head and shoulders out the door, then supported herself on her hands as she wriggled the rest of her body through the doorway.
Once she was flat on the floor Ramos ordered her to the kitchen. "Fix breakfast for two. You eat on the floor, but if you don't hurry you'll eat off the floor." He slapped her ass as she went by to encourage more speed.
He looked at the pan under the cage, wrinkling his nose at the smell. She would have a cleanup job later. Bladder control lessons loomed in the offing.
When Ramos came up the stairs, Slave wanted more freedom to handle preparing breakfast. She held up her cuffed wrists, pointedly looking at them and then at him.
Bluntly he told her, "You're questioning an order. You'll eat off the floor for a week."
Meekly she acknowledged the punishment and hurried back to her work. She served her Master a full breakfast. He ate most of it, then dumped his plate under his feet. His boots made squishy sounds as he ground the scraps into the floor. She knelt, watching every move he made. He in turn watched her, intent on catching the slightest rebellion against his order. He raised one foot and thrust it toward her. She reached for it with her cuffed hands and brought the boot to her mouth. Her tongue curled under the sole, searching for fragments of food. A tidal wave of humiliation washed over her as she licked.
When she had finished polishing the soles of both boots he allowed her to lick the floor. When she finished, she knelt up, only to watch him take his coffee cup and spill the last dregs, sending her tongue back to work. Finally, head down, she awaited his orders.
Making sure she was watching, he examined his boots closely, pulling them off his feet to get a better look. He leaned down to look at the floor. He was almost ready to accept her work when he spied a fragment of bacon adhering to the leg of his chair. He pointed it out to her and pronounced sentence. "Do my boots again and do the floor right this time!"
He continued to watch her and was somewhat pleased that there was no sign of resistance to his humiliating order. She probably would hesitate to question his orders for some time to come, so his lesson was working.
She attacked his boots with renewed fervor, this time licking the soles and all of the uppers, leaving them gleaming with her saliva. Ramos made no effort to help, planting his feet and forcing her to bodily move them so she could reach every part with her tongue. She laved a larger area around his feet, making short work of the offending bit of bacon, its taste lost in the mixture of floor polish and tiny specks of dirt.
He rigorously inspected a second time, both knowing he wouldn't find a trace, but she had to suffer the pangs of worry that somehow, somewhere, some bit of food had escaped her now sore tongue. She held her breath, waiting for the worst to happen. Ramos finished his inspection and without comment ordered her back to the kitchen to do the dishes and clean up. That order came the closest to bringing a protest to her lips. She had a cook and a maid who handled the housework. She hadn't had time to ponder why both had not shown up for work. There was only one answer - Ramos had somehow outfoxed her again.
Now at a decent hour, Ramos began making phone calls. In short order the name of the trust brought an instant response from a security firm. Their representative would be there in less than an hour.
Slave had finished the kitchen, leaving it spotless. Despite a life of luxury up to this point, she had learned the basics of cooking at a posh cooking school and housekeeping. Ramos took her to the garage. The chilly air raised goose bumps all over her body, especially on her breasts. Ramos opened the trunk of the nearest car and ordered her to climb in. She hadn't earned a blanket in his opinion, so she laid on the rough fiber carpet, studiously avoiding eye contact.
"I have people coming and I don't need a nude slave to be the center of attention. You will stay here until I let you out after they have gone. One peep, one rattled chain and you will smart for weeks to come. Understood?"
In a few minutes she heard a car drive up and stop. The driver got out, walked past the garage and rang the bell. Ramos greeted him and the two began to discuss his needs. The man made notes, then followed as Ramos pointed out each camera location, feeding to monitors in the library. The man looked startled for a moment when he saw the dungeon, but he made no comment. He was there to sell equipment, not to comment on anyone's life style. He did wonder why there wasn't a girl in one of the cells or rooms, but he was too busy adding equipment to follow that thought. It was really none of his business. He concentrated instead on the fat bonus this sale would bring to him.
Fat indeed. Ramos allocated the trust's money with a lavish hand. Ending up with a camera watching the cars in the garage, the order was well over the six figure mark.
Ramos let that fact sink in, then raised an issue.
"Before I sign a contract, I want written assurance that you will not tell anyone what you have seen in this house, and covering all the workmen you send here. Without that I won't sign."
The man agreed immediately. Ramos offered the use of the computer and printer in the office. In seconds the salesman had a confidentially agreement printed out. Ramos read it carefully, ensuring it didn't have any loopholes, and watched him sign it. Then he in turn signed the contract.
Once the sales rep had left, Ramos called Slave's brother and detailed what he had done. Brother didn't even hesitate in approving the expenditure. He heartily approved keeping her under a 24 hour watch. The two talked for close to an hour before they finished. Ramos went to the garage and got Slave out of her confinement. She knelt before him.
He jerked her leash, crawling her to the bathroom just off the garage. She raised herself onto the toilet, and with her legs tightly together waited for him to close the door. She knew he wouldn't, but she hoped she could keep that one shred of modesty. He jerked on her leash in warning. Face flaming, she spread her legs and allowed her bladder to empty with a loud and continuous splash.
Lunch was a carbon copy of breakfast, except that Ramos stepped on only part of the food. To him it was a minor change, but for Slave it was a milestone. She must have done something right to win a reduction in her humiliation. At the moment she had no idea what she had done to deserve it. Ramos was the only one who knew and she was not about to question him.
After lunch was cleared Slave was sent to her room, to dress! Ramos had laid out bra and panties, a silk blouse and a medium length skirt. She was flabbergasted. None of her previous Masters had ever allowed her underwear and anything less than a clear as glass blouse and a micro-mini skirt was unheard of. Before sending her up he released one wrist and one ankle, letting the open cuffs dangle.
Slave didn't allow her surprise to slow her down, rapidly donning the clothes, fixing her makeup and her hair. As she worked, she tried to figure it out. The only thing she could come up with was that her brother or some other member of the family was coming to visit.
She descended the stairs, first locking her wrists and ankles, careful in her tall heels. She knelt before Ramos. He examined her closely, raising her face with a grip on her chin to check every detail. She closed her eyes while he looked at her face, afraid to make accidental eye contact.
Satisfied, he tugged her to her feet and allowed her for the first time to walk down the steps to the dungeon. He led her to a cell, guided her in, and strapped a mask over her face. Then he closed and locked the door. The open cell had steel bars for three sides, the fourth being the concrete wall. There was a combination wash basin and toilet and a narrow bed. Everywhere there were rings, ready for any lock and chain, but except for her leash, she wasn't attached anywhere. Her leg shackles and her wrist cuffs remained in place on one ankle and wrist to constantly remind her of her status.
Ramos barely got back upstairs before the doorbell rang. From the window he could see a work truck and a large van in the drive.
The workmen entered the house and the foreman identified himself. Ramos shook hands with him and took him aside and questioned him.
"You are aware of the confidentially clause in my contract?
"Yes, sir. All of the men have been warned."
"Fine. Once you've assigned your workmen, I have a special job for you. There's a bonus involved," he promised. "Oh, are you married?"
"No, sir, not even a girlfriend."
"Good. Come back here when you're ready."
A half hour later the foreman showed up. "I'm ready."
Ramos nodded. "I'm going to remind you one more time as to the confidentiality clause. What you are about to see may strain your agreement to the clause. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes, sir. You do have my curiosity aroused though."
"It will just take a moment to satisfy that. Let's go."
Ramos led the foreman down the steps into the dungeon. The man exclaimed when he saw Slave, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap. She looked up in surprise, forgetting her order momentarily. She got a glimpse of a second man - not her brother! - with Ramos before she dropped her gaze to their boots. She slid from the bed onto her knees and walked them to the cell door.
She listened, aghast, as Ramos introduced her. "This is Slave. She is just beginning her training so she probably will make mistakes in the next few minutes."
"First, have you ever seen a lovelier girl in chains?"
"Sir, only in my dreams. I'm into bondage, so I'm familiar with her plight."
"Well, now you see why I'm so adamant about all this remaining confidential."
"Of course, sir. I would want the same privacy."
She is learning to take orders, slowly. Why don't you suggest she remove a piece of her clothing. As you know, to her a suggestion is an order."
"Slave, why don't you remove your blouse."
She quickly unbuttoned the clinging silk and slipped it off her shoulders. The open handcuff snagged in the sleeve, but she quickly loosened it and dropped the blouse to the floor. Her heart was in her throat, certain that she was about to be raped by one - or both - of the men.
"Stand up!" The order came again from the stranger. Swiftly and smoothly she raised herself, standing rigidly at attention before them. The smooth lines of the bra failed to hide her nipples that were standing at attention, pushing little bumps into the cloth.
"Drop your skirt." She noted to herself that this stranger had all the earmarks of a good strong Master. Her fingers found the clasp and button and the skirt dropped from her hips to the floor.
The panties hid her shorn mound, but there was plenty of suggestions of the treats that were hidden by the almost transparent lace. Slave's humiliation factor was doubling and redoubling by the moment. If it weren't for the fact that her shame was turning her on big time she might have balked, but the prospects beyond losing her clothing were already making her breathing difficult, one step from panting.
There was anger beneath her arousal. How dare her Master allow her to be raped by a total stranger? If he was so crass this early in her training, what would he do to her later on? She flashed a picture of herself streetwalking, in chains, and nearly had an orgasm. She suddenly realized that she was fixating on the chains that were now a prominent part of her life.
"Show us your left tit."
She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, the loose cuff banging into her side. The bra came loose, but she held it with one hand, allowing the cloth to drop from her one breast. She felt the air whirling around the exposed nipple. A glance confirmed that it was rigid and swollen.
The foreman looked at Ramos, who nodded, thinking alike. The foreman stepped forward and took the nipple in his fingers, twisting and rolling it until Slave moaned her arousal. The man stepped back expressing his appreciation to Ramos with his eyes.
"Now the other tit."
Slave could not control the red glow that suffused her face and burned brightly on her cheeks. Was this to be her fate? A play toy for any man who came along? ‘God help me if he brings in a woman to work me over!' A kindred puzzle caught her attention. Previous Masters had beaten her, used the whip to force her to comply with their lewd orders. These two were getting her to obey merely with their voices.
The stark contrast between the new and the old added its own special flavor to their domination, adding fuel to the flames of her arousal. Their special brand of humiliation was taking her to plateaus she had never reached before, and, she realized, one hell of a lot faster. She missed the pain of the whip, but that desire was lost in the maelstrom. She guessed correctly that there would be more than enough whip to go around in the very near future.
Savagely controlling her reluctance to flaunt her body, Slave dropped the bra completely, shrugging the straps off her shoulders. She was proud of her body, but this extraordinary series of events was making her head spin. Again she felt a pang of anger, pissed that Ramos would share her in this out and out humiliating fashion. She briefly considered complaining to her brother but as before it died unnoticed.
She endured the simultaneous ravaging of both her nipples by the stranger's fingers, shuddering as he forced her closer and closer to a forbidden climax. Ramos commented, "She is not allowed orgasms, even with permission." The man got the message and backed off temporarily, leaving Slave gasping for breath. With his hands out of the way she could see her nubs were even more swollen and the pain radiating from them attested to their mistreatment.
The final order, the one she dreaded most.
"Off with the panties."
She slid the narrow band down her hips, tugging the gusset from its nesting place between her legs, feeling its wetness on her thighs, panicking at the prospect of punishment for that very wetness. She stepped out of them and pushed them to one side. The slick cloth was mute evidence of both her arousal and her violation of a specific order. "Dry as the Sahara Desert" rang through her head, even as the two men admired the exposed female flesh.
Ramos didn't miss the soaked panel. She saw him look down, then dropped her eyes before he looked at her once more.
Again the foreman looked to Ramos for permission and he nodded again. The man reached through the bars, then paused.
"Spread your legs!
Knowing that she was about to get the finger, Slave came close to balking. She moved in the last fraction of a second that would keep her from retribution. She was agile enough to spread them more than 90 degrees, her ankles bent almost double at their extended range. The gap into her pussy was big enough to drive a tank in.
She felt the man's fingers, touching, probing, twisting her flesh. They settled on her clit.
It was too much. Slave climaxed, screaming like a lost soul, helpless to stop the inevitable. She had known when he tortured her nipples that he would force her to come, sooner or later. She would later realize that he never penetrated her with anything.
Ramos was cool with her breaking his rule. He would have ample opportunity to make her bitterly regret her loss of control. Right now he enjoyed demonstrating his dominance to the foreman by dragging the unprotesting Slave to the wooden horse for a long ride.
The foreman in turn was delighted that he had a chance to dominate her. He felt not the slightest pang of regret that his fingers has caused her to break training and earn punishment. "After all, what are slaves for," was his one comment.
It took three days of intense work and overtime to complete the security system. Ramos was pleased when he turned on a monitor and was able to zoom in on Slave, kneeling on the floor of her cell. In the interim, the two men had another session with Slave, dressing her, then undressing her, then the ultimate parody - making her come again. It was ten times worse for Slave as she knew exactly what was coming, right up to the gut wrenching fear when the man's nipple play presaged another forbidden orgasm.
The foreman thanked Ramos profusely for his "bonus," volunteering to come over any time to further humiliate Slave. Ramos left it open, not promising anything, but leaving the door ajar.
Slave was completely baffled by the events over the two-day period. She had mentally prepared herself for beatings, whippings and rape, only to have a pair of sessions with the stranger that both came to the same inevitable end. Since Ramos hadn't bothered to tell her who the man was or why he was there, Slave was left with a conundrum that she could neither understand nor solve. Like every slave, she worried about that and each and every separate event of the two days. Her main worry at the moment was that she had been identified, in spite of the mask, and that the family would get some unwanted publicity from it.
The dungeon security cameras were personally installed by the foreman, so it ended up that he was the only member of the crew that saw the inside of the dungeon. Slave had been locked into a punishment helmet when she rode the wooden horse, so he had used that time to hide the cameras. Ramos had already told her that the library was off limits, so that she wouldn't see the monitors either.
This left Slave totally unaware of the events around her. Now that she was a movie star, her every move was being watched. It would be some time, and being caught in several rule violations, before she figured it out. Once it was obvious that she was aware, Ramos showed her the monitors and ran a tape of her fingering her clit. Her punishment was apt. She was strapped to a wooden chair, with her legs spread over the arms. He handed her a spiked wheel and made her run the needle-sharp teeth back and forth over her clit for a solid hour.
She was sobbing well before the hour ended. Ramos took the wheel from her limp hand.
"Make yourself come. Use your finger."
Slave touched herself and shrieked, jerking her hand away as if she had been shot.
"Do I need to repeat an order?"
"No, Master," she croaked, bending again to her task. She squealed when her finger touched the mottled pearl. Sobbing loudly, gritting her teeth she fondled herself, each touch hurting more than the one before.
Ramos eyed her carefully, watching for the last second signs.
"Stop! Look at me!"