The Slave Girl (Chapter 1)

Chapter 1

Upon the rich austerity of David Murchinson´s polished mahogany the silver chrome of the handcuffs were a shining incongruity against the reticence of Corporate good taste. Corey Gibson eyed them with disdain. She was more concerned with what Murchinson was saying.

"On the face of it I should simply shut up, keep quiet. I should allow Planet Oil Corporation to slide down the drain and your father with it. But I don´t want that." He sighed heavily. "This old f****y role isn´t all it´s cracked up to be. I´m going to give you two alternatives and advise against both. I suppose that means I´m telling you something I think you ought to know."

She laughed at his sobriety. "David, do cheer up, please! Are those absurd things on the table for a reason?" She nodded at the handcuffs. "Is one of us going to jail?"
"His name is Assef Aslam." Murchinson gravely ignored her question. "He comes close to being one of the most powerful private citizens in the world." Corey Gibson wrinkled her nose. "I´ve met him..... at functions. He stands still and allows a lot of worried looking men to talk."
"On two occasions you were pointedly rude to him."
"Well, someone had to be.... all that brown nosing! Besides, the way he looked at me....!" Corey Gibson sniffed with all the assurance of great wealth. "I´ve been optically undressed often enough, but that b*****r to the Sphinx takes off a girl´s skin along with her clothes."
"Hmmmmm. Nou doubt it was those two expressions of your disapproval that made a fix in his mind. He wants you bad." Murchinson grinned. "I´ve seen you rude a few times. You do it with a flair."
"I´m said to be a bitch. Probably I am."
"Never to me." "David, you´re sweet - and you want to sell me into slavery."
"No, I don´t."
"No, I don´t think you do. But that´s what Aslam´s proposition amounts to. Next time I shall be very rude indeed."

"Corey girl....." Murchinson held up a deprecatory hand. "Let´s look at it cold. Next week the Planet Oil Corporation becomes a dry hole. Your father will be worse than broke, there´s income tax suits pending. Assef Aslam will save it at a price. The price is you."
"I followed you that far. Does this mid-Eastern jackal want to marry me?"
"No. It´s just as you said. Some form of slavery. Those handcuffs are his. He invites you to put them on your wrists and go down to the floor one of his companies rents in this building."
"David, it´s too bizarre! Chains...."
"Exactly. But consider him. No one knows his nationality. He is self-made. He has never married. He carries a big, big chip on his shoulder about something.... The Establishment probably, and I expect colour is in there somewhere. You epitomise something he envies. You have also hurt his pride. I fully believe his intent is to give you a thoroughly bad time. You also represent a hostage, a useful pledge of The Planet Corporation´s good behavior." "What did the old Kings call them! A ´whipping boy´, wasn´t it? So I´d be his whipping girl! Dammit, David, the bastard probably actually would whip me." Corey Gibson´s indignation overflowed. "Can I go down and throw those handcuffs in his face?"
"Possibly you could. But I don´t advise it."
"David, you´ve something up your sleeve, you old so-and-so. What is it?"
"It´s a last hope." The Vice President of Planet admitted dourly. "But I never underrate the power of a woman. Go and talk to him. Keep an open mind. See if you can touch a nerve."
"And spread my legs! No thanks." "I didn´t say that, Corey. Talk. Sometimes words work magic."
"Before of after he whips me?"
"I know how you feel." Murchinson made a gesture of defeat. "Probably I´m a silly old man. The whole thing´s an outrage. But in business we explore loopholes."

Corey rose and patted a dejected male shoulder. Her voice still held laughter. "Father and Planet won´t go broke. I just don´t believe....! I´m going to take those things on the table, and next time I come face to face.....! You know what I´ll do-"

David Murchinson silently watched one of the world´s most beautiful women scoop Aslam´s handcuffs and drop them in her bag. He accepted her light kiss on his forehead, then echoed her unworried good-bye. Long after she had gone he sat in contemplation of catastrophe. Corey Gibson herself was pressing buttons. The elevator should not have stopped where it had. It should respond to the controls but it did not. When its gate unexpectedly slid open she exited in anger.

"Reid Hunter! Well, how nice...."
"Corey!" His smile was always attractive. "You picked the wrong elevator. Happy chance. Spare me fifteen minutes for a drink?"
"Why not." Corey allowed herself to be possessed. Reid was nice. He was one of the casual ones who admired but did not push.
Doors. The indefinable smell of money. Another office like Murchinson´s but far less austere. A bar. The chairs were for lounging. Corey picked one and watched the mixing of her cocktail. When it was done they clinked glasses to Reid Hunter´s toast.
"To beautiful females. Specially you."
"I didn´t know your office was in the Planet Building?"
"It isn´t." He gestured apologetically. "I´m afraid I´m borrowing it. Really lush, eh."
"Mmmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm! What´s his name?"
"I think you´re about to meet him, Corey. I hear sounds in the outer office. Ah, yes!"
She should have known! Corey Gibson was furious with herself for not guessing. It had been far too slick.....! She turned upon her bogus host. "Reid, d´you get paid for this? It´s a damn lousy trick."
"Friendship, Corey. Just helping out-"
"You´re not helping me. Damn you!"
"This is the time to hurl the handcuffs, Miss Gibson." Assef Alam was politely entertained.

She was on her feet, gulping the last of her drink. Flushed with anger she was on her way to the door when Hunter´s blant voice halted her steps. "The conversation upstairs, Corey - I´m afraid the room was bugged."
"Yoy bastards!" Corey Gibson looked from one to the other in disgust. "In that case you know my sentiments. I need not repeat them. Good-bye." Chin high, she headed for the door.
"I fear, Miss Gibson, you´ll find it won´t open." Aslam informed apologetically.
"In that case you can unlock it. Oh, and take those too." Breasts heaving, she threw the handcuffs at Aslam´s feet. "You know what you can do with them." There was no answer. Just a waiting silence. Impatiently she strode to the door and grasped the knob. It would not yield. An angry rattle and tug achieved nothing.
"I did mention it was closed." The dry voice was only slightly mocking.
Corey Gibson was not yet afraid. The full weight of the Planet Corporation was solidly around her. Reid Hunter was a decent sort who, just at this moment, was being a bit of a bastard, but that was all. Assef Aslam was too ridiculous to consider a composite out of melodrama. The situation was best ended. Coldly she conceded: "I presume the door means you have something to say to me. Let´s have it."
"You already have it, Miss Gibson. David muchinson was reasonably explicit."
Corey glared at Reid Hunter. "What do you get out of this?"
"I´m an intermediary, that´s all."
"Wouldn´t Judas goat be more accurate?"
Hunter waved a deprecating hand. "For this small deception, yes perhaps. Corey, you´re not easy to proposition. Without that locked door you wouldn´t stay long enough to get a message." He grinned a comradely grin. "What are you, Corey? The most beautiful, the best dressed, the richest, the most eligible....? You´re high in the top ten. It makes you hard to reach."

"So you k**nap me?"
"Yes. Somehow, I want to make you understand what´s happening. To grasp an extraordinary power that´s fallen into your hands."
Corey Gibson sneered. "Barter my body?"
"Yes."

The single word caught her attention. Reid was trying to give her a message. It was not like him to be so blunt. Corey´s pulse quickened when he sauntered to the door. Having turned a key, he faced her squarely. His tone unusually sober. "It´s not just your father, or Planet, or me, Corey. What you and Mr. Aslam decide will affect several thousand people." He nodded, shrugged, and was gone. The click of the lock was clearly audible.

"A nice young man doing a difficult job." Assef Aslam commented affably. "May I offer you another drink?" From a welter of emotions Corey chose dignity. "Very well." She agreed without enthusiasm. "Probably by the time you´ve said your say I´ll need it."

The drink was strong. Sipping it, Corey Gibson assessed her host. Aslam had a quality, a presence. But what she was seeing was not the real man. She would have preferred him less polite. "Before I give you a refusal you´d best be more specific." She said bluntly.
He picked the handcuffs from the floor and dropped them in her lap. "It would please me very much if you would wear these." His voice held a note of yearning Corey could not place. "It would set a tone. While you have them on your wrists I will give you their key."
"Nonsense!" She tossed the shining things back at him. "Wear them yourself."
"You are dealing in yesterday." He said gently. "My problem is to make you aware of this moment. You have been k**napped."
"Someone mentioned that." Corey said frostily. "When I´ve finished this drink you will unlock the door. If you refuse I´ll make a loud and unladylike fuss."
"No one will hear."

He was infuriatingly sure of himself. "You are contemplating v******e?" She inquired icily.

"Two possibilities." Aslam said warmly. "You accept the handcuffs. You accompany me to my private plane - and I do assure you we wil not been seen, and you go unquestioningly where I take you. The second is simple. I summon aid and we give you a hypodermic injection. When you wake it is al over."

"Hell, why the talking? Call your help and give me the needle."
"I prefer the other way. I want a wholegirl who is totally aware."
"You´re dreaming. besides, you´re forgetting my father."
"Your father will be very easy to deal with while I hold you."
"What you´re looking for is an erotic kick out of having me abase myself, be a sacrificial virgin?"
"That´s your pathway to profit, Miss Gibson. With the needle you´re nothing more than a k**napped hostage."
For the first time she felt the chill of fear. For the first time she gave Assef Aslam her full attention. "I can´t take this seriously." She pointed out reasonably. "Surely you understand...?"

There was a f***e in Aslam. The same extrusion of power she had sometimes noticed in her father. His features were good, his colour scarcely discernable. He might be forty-five. In previous meetings she had seen him through the eyes of the media. This was different. Assef Aslam was a handsome intelligent cosmopolitan. The voice he was using was not his own. He was leashing his tone in patience.

"Forgive me. I am enjoying you." His smile quenched her protest. "If I stood in your shoes I could not possibly believe in what is going to happen..." He waved a deprecating arm. "I want this done my way. To help you understand I am going to change places with one of my secretaries. Her name is Audrey Cotswold. She is English. She is educated. What she tells you is all true. Here - catch!"

The clutch was instinctive. Corey held the handcuffs with distaste. But this time curiosity won. She examined them. They featured in enough movies...! They seemed functional - and unfeminine! Indolently, she tossed them on a chair. Then looked up in shock.
Audrey Cotswold was naked.

There is a freemasonary in beauty. Beautiful women recognize it. They can assess. Corey Gibson conceded Miss Audrey Cotswold a high score. It was a relief that this poised and amused Britisher dropped no titch or broadened an ´A´. Her´s was a voice which belonged.
"Those things bother you?" A bare arm indicated the shining metal, then swung to proffer a friendly hand. "My name´s Audrey. I´m a slave."
The grip of fingers and the smile were warm. They modified shock but did not erase it. Corey kept her voice even: "Handcuffs and a naked girl! Am I being conditioned?"
"Of course." The admission was engagingly frank. "I have only a little while to tell you a great deal."
"I don´t want to hear."
"Why should you! But I´ll read the lines anyway." The nude secretary retrieved the despised handcuffs, and with an insouciant grin fitted them on her own wrists with a fastidious concern for perfection. Having clicked them most definitely snug she held them up to examine the effect as though they were diamonds bracelets. "They look much better on than off." She observed carelessly. "Oh, by the way, you don´t mind me being naked, I hope? I´m nearly always naked. Slaves don´t wear many clothes."
"Couldn´t you at least be decent?"
"I am decent." The grin was confiding. "I´m decent by my owner´s standards, and that´s what counts."
"I´d take it as a tremendous favour if you´d open a door and allow me to go."
"That´s how I felt the first time." Again the comradely grin. "It´s so damn hard for a girl to adjust to in half an hour. I say, would you mind.....? I mean, taking your clothes off?"
"I mind, and I won´t!"
"Yes.... I know." The cheerful voice turned nostalgic. "I´ve played this scene myself. I just couldn´t believe any of it until the bruiser came in. By the time he´d bruised me here and there they certainly had my full attention."
"Call him in."
"Miss Gibson, you´re bluffing. Here, watch...."

The man who entered could have been a gym instructor. A pleasant athletic type who smiled winningly and picked up a heavy arm chair with one outstretched hand. His query was polite. "Is there something I can do for you, Miss Cotswold?"
"Thanks, Bill. Now run along. But not too far." Audrey nodded a friendly dismissal.

Corey could not slow her accelerated pulse. A picture was emerging. "That was cheaply obvious." She complained resentfully.
"It was also kind. You´re lucky, Miss Gibson, that Assef has a mental thing about you. He wants you humiliated from the word go. He will take you any way you compel him to. f***e is so easy and so trite. He wants you to walk into slavery with your head in the air and without illusions. His concept of your k**napping is uniquely civilised."
Corey began to glimpse the enmity of time. Yet she could comprehend the logic of Aslam sequestering her in a space of minutes. Her disappearance would be slick and unobtrusive. But to cope with her k**napping she had first to believe in it. She was surprised to find herself weighing a preference and inclined towards being manhandled rather than accept the chagrin of handcuffs and following where she might be led. Audrey Cotswold was a smiling enigma. The girl wore both nakedness and handcuffs gracefully. Her linked hands contrived the same fluidity of motion as if free. Never once did they seek to cover breasts or pubic hair. Determined to end an impasse, she demanded coldly. "Help me a little. Tell me what you plan... for me?"
"You will become a slave, subject to both use and discipline."
"You don´t appear to have suffered either!"

Audrey twinkled mischieviously. "To be immaculate is a state of mind. To service a man with your sex, or to have him whip your bare skin need change nothing unless the girl wills it so."

Corey Gibson sniffed. "Can I have another drink? And as for what you´ve just said, it´s a bit of specious nonsense."
"No, it´s not. The first couple of times I met a fate worse than death and got myself whipped because I made such a fuss about it I went all the way to the bottom of the pit. But then I had a chance to look in a full length mirror." The chained hands offered the filled glass, the lovely eyes smiled in an invitation to trust. "I was actually shocked to discover I looked the same as I always had. If I smiled I was right back at square one. Sure, I´d got whipmarks, but they wouldn´t be permanent." Audrey giggled. "I remember doing a lot of pulling and twisting to get a good look at my vulva. The damn thing looked quite pleased with itself. I felt a fool."
"O.K. So I get ****d and whipped! What else?"

Audrey shrugged. "What´s it matter! You´ll be a man´s property. He´ll use you as he wishes. Look at me! I´m used all the time, and I still get whipped when I throw a tantrum."
Corey Gibson took a stiff pull at her glass. "You´re having me on. Dammit. Audrey, you´re happy! You´re loving this!"
"Sort of. I´m loving you too. D´you like girls, Miss Gibson?"
"Not at this moment. Audrey, please! Let me out of here. I´ll make you rich."
"You can´t, remember? Daddy´s broke. And anyway, I´m a faithful slave who doesn´t want to collect any more whipmarks than she has to."
"You can´t tell me you couldn´t walk out into the street."
"I can do that alright. But I don´t want the consequences. And please don´t ask me about those consequences. You´ll pick ´em up as you go along. One more drink?"
"You mean I´ll be more amenable when d***k?"
"Of course."

Corey took the refill and looked the naked English girl straight in the eye as she drank it. Defiantly, she avowed: "That won´t take me over the brink, and it´s the last."
Audrey Cotswold nodded brightly and took the empty glass. "I put something in that one."
"To knock me out?"
"Heavens no! That would spoil things." The naked girl giggled. "I´ve never tried the stuff. If it does half of what it´s supposed to you´ll be a happy girl - and lucky!"

Corey Gibson found herself laughing at the absurdity of things. This girl was nice, she would make love adorable.
"You´ve got the loveliest breasts, Audrey." She said warmly. "And the bushiest bush...."
"They are nice, aren´t they! I like them too." Audrey Cotswold glowed with pride. "But I bet yours... Mmmmmm!"

It was remarkable how a handcuffed girl could be so deft. Corey looked down interestedly at the bright metal and the hands it joined. She had supposed that once someone was handcuffed that was the end for them. But Audrey´s fingers were free in feminine wisdom about zippers and clips and where to look....! It was amusing how the expensive creations fell in small cascades to the floor at her feet. It was not until linked hands touched and caressed her breasts that Corey Gibson realised the clothes wre her own, and that she was naked.

"Now there´s two of us." Corey refused to giggle or be coy. To remove her hands from the temptation to cover something she put them behind her back. "Am I a nice nude?" She enquired hopefully.
"You´re as close to perfection as us girls come." Audrey stood back, making a sober and honest evaluation of something lovely. "I don´t know what Aslam´s done to deserve us both. You are just slightly breathtaking, Miss Corey Gibson.

Corey glowed. It was strange to be naked in a business office and not feel naked at all. She was exploring Audrey Cotswold´s left nipple when something was pressed into her hand. Her exclamation was one of pleased surprise. "Audrey, it´s a key, a tiny little key."
"I can do it myself." Miss Cotswold admitted. "But it´s so much easier if you do it."
It was fun. Two naked girls sharing chuckles as an erratic key sought an equally erratic keyhole. "Seems like you turn it the wrong way, dear, not too hard." The English girl turned her locked wrists to Miss Corey Gibson´s best advantage.
Miss Corey Gibson herself was utterly absorbed. She was imbued with an exiting sense of kinship with this nude beauty whose handcuffs she was fumblingly striving to unlock. The task was no more remarkable than helping with tight gloves or a recalcitrant bra. Corey felt real pride as the first cuff opened and fell away from the slender wrist it had snugly held.
"There! Aren´t I clever -!"

Before the daughter of the Planet Corporation could say or do more, she was enveloped by two bare fervid arms. The loose cuff dangled at her back and beat a small rhythm on her skin as she was hugged and hugged again.
"I´ve wanted to do that since I first saw you." Audrey sighed. "Let´s rub breasts and nipples."

When the frictioning of vibrant flesh began to take Miss Corey Gibson into a roseate world of heavy perfumed breathing she was thrust gently from the communion of four hard scarlet buds. This time the handcuffs were pendent from a single wrist.
"One more, Corey...."

In shared deligt the two naked girls watched the probing key and the slowly opened cuff. "They aren´t ugly at all, Audrey. I can see that now. They looked expensively right on you." In a pleasant glow, Corey looked down to watch her companion catch the freed chrome and playfully clasp it once again upon a femenine wrist. That the wrist felt like her own was a matter for hilaruty. Laughingly, she informed: "I think that´s me you´ve locked it on."
"You?" Audrey Cotswold cocked a surprised eye. "Surely I...? Just turn a minute, dear, and we´ll see...."
It was absurd. It was sweet. It was fun. Corey felt she was one up. To prove it she turned.
"Golly, Miss Gibson, I think you´re right. Just hold still."
Please call me Corey. I don´t want to be a Miss Gibson to you."
"You´re so sweet." A series of clicks made a metallic punctuation. "There! All fixed. You can turn back..."
"Are yoy sure, Audrey?" Corey turned slowly to face her smiling mentor, her arms busily exploring something odd behind her back, her features puzzled. "I think you´ve done it wrong again."
"No. Love, just as it should be."
Corey wished she could stop giggling. "It´s not, y´know. Now you´ve got both my wrists...?"
"That´s right, dear. You were so terribly slow."

Miss Corey Gibson was hazily aware of something out of focus, something not as it should be. She worked her newly imprisoned hands against the metal circlets snugly round her wrists. In sudden relief, she exclaimed: "I know what´s wrong. You´ve handcuffed me behind my back. Girls wear handcuffs in front, just as you did."
Audrey kissed a rampant nipple. "There´s no law about it, dear. I prefer you like you are. You look entrancingly innocent.... and you can´t stop me doing this." Wicked fingers rose to valnerable breasts.
"I don´t want to stop you."
"And I can do what I like with this little treasure down here." Audrey´s hand found the warm moist slit between the heated thighs.
"That´s nice. Don´t keep stopping..."
"See What I mean about handcuffs?"
"I do now. They´re absolutely... Mmmmmmmm!"
"You´re quite helpless, y´know."
"Yes." Captive hands tugged and squirmed to make sure.
"Isn´t it fun?"
"I expect it´s time to go."
"Oh yes...." Corey tried hard to remember. "There was some sort of hurry about me going somewhere." She looked down admiringly at her own nudity.
"Seems like I´m all ready."

It was all erotically exciting. Corey realised the drinks had produced exactly the right degree of euphoria, and it seemed only proper to share Audrey´s nakedness. For some strange reason it was equally in keeping to lose her hands. It was thrilling to tug at the metal bands from which there was no escape. They made her seem so much a part of this English girl and do what Audrey said. There was a lingering memory about becoming a slave....
The idea was hilarious. When Audrey´s lips found her´s and lingered long, and then upon the softness of her eyes... It was all pure bliss. It took Corey a deliciously sl**py minute to realise she was alone.
"You are more beautiful than I hoped." Said Assef Aslam.

It took Miss Corey Gibson several moments to adjust. She felt a need to clutch at bits of herself which appeared to have gone astray and were hovering just beyond reach. It was those segments out there which were feeling guilt, anger, outrage, shocked modesty. She herself felt only an intrigued curiosity pleasantly spiced with sex. "Hello, Mr. Aslam." She said brightly. "You´re a lot better looking than I thought you were too."
"Thank you. You are..... comfortable?"
"Oh, yes. I´m naked. Hadn´t you noticed...?"
"I´m glad you mentioned it." Aslam said drily. "And your arms...?"
Corey wanted him to share the giggle. "They´re handcuffed... behind my back. Audrey did it."
"Charming, isn´t she? Please turn."

The male interest flattered. Corey wanted to share everything. Without thought of exposure, she stepped up to the dark deep eyes, turned her back and flapped her hands.
"You see?" She exclaimed with a strange triumph. "I can´t possibly get loose. I´ve tried."
Aslam tested her locked bonds so pertly presented for his attention. "You are right." He said gravely. "They are snug. You can never free yourself. You may resume your position."

Stepping away, it seemed to Corey only polite to relieve her host of embarrassment. "I don´t mind a bit your seeing me naked, Mr. Aslam." She said with naive innocence. "And please go on giving special attention to my pubic hair and breasts. I´ll stand at attention and spread my legs a bit...."
Assef Aslam sighed. He accepted this cornucopia of riches in silent reverence. His eyes drank deep.
"Audrey mentioned slavery, Mr. Aslam. Should I kneel, or something?"
"Yes, kneel. Back on your heels, head bowed."

She was sure she was very beautiful. She heard his indrawn breath and felt an ecstacy of power in being female. Head bowed in submission she knew a strange triumph. Her hands had ceased to work against their bonds.
"Am I supposed to call you Master now?" She asked without moving.
"I prefer the title of `sir`. It has its own spontaneous subservience. More humiliating. Don´t you agree?"

The naked girl savoured it and found him right. "It is more humiliating to me, sir." She agreed without resentment. For good measure, Corey blandly asked. "Do you wish to have intercourse with me now?"
"You find the prospect agreeable?"
"Yes, sir. Your slave is honoured."
"Isn´t that a hackneyed line, Miss Gibson?"
"I thought so too, sir." The humbled nudity wriggled shyly. "But I´m affraid they´re going to pop up if you want me totally obedient." In a burst of candour, she added. "Audrey´s told me about being whipped. I don´t want to be whipped."
"Do you know what it means to service a man, Miss Gibson?"
"Only because I´ve read about it, sir."
"Service me. Kneeling."

It was like being a c***d again, to walk on her knees. Corey wished Mr. Aslam would share her laughter as she worked at coping with his zipper. It was such fun having no hands, like an old time parlour game. It took her lips, her teeth and het tongue...! Even at that he had to help a little.
"I am pleased, Miss Gibson. Even discounting the potion...!"
Miss Gibson diluted shock at the sudden emergence of her new owner´s male organ by looking up, dewey eyed, and suggesting shyly: "Why don´t you call me Corey, Mr. Aslam? I don´t want you to call me Miss Gibson any more."
She grinned ruefully. "I think Miss Gibson´s disappeared."
Assef nodded, his hands stroking her hair. "Yes, Miss Gibson has gone."
"So why not give me a new name?" Her eyes sparkled. "Give me a slave name appropriate to wherever it is you´re taking me?"
"It shall be as you wish. And now...?"
"Yes, sir. Do I take it all in my mouth at once? I suck it, don´t I? And some other things I read...?"
"Just follow the book." Said Assef Aslam kindly.

Miss Corey Gibson was still savouring the salty taste of semen when the cape was clasped at her neck. It was light, and reached below her pubic hair. No one would see her handcuffs. She kicked her feet back into her own discarded shoes and was ready for her journey. There were waves of disapproval and frantic warnings from those disassociated portions of herself in space but she tolerantly dismissed their naivete in amusement at their absurd concern. With Assef´s hand upon her captive arm, and a femininely complacent smile upon her lips, she walked through a now open door into a new life.

The private elevator was privacy deluxe. A foolish girl seeking escape or help would have found neither. In the underground garage they passed a man alone and a single couple. None vouschafed a second glance. The waiting limousine and its impassive driver absorbed them both in hushed discretion. Settling with Mr. Aslam into the back seat, Corey wriggled deliciously back against her fastened arms. As at a sudden discovery, she exclaimed. "I´m k**napped! I´m a k**napped heiress." Her eyes twinkled at her companion. "Gosh, this sure is exciting."

Wealth paved their way to the private jet. Abstractedly, the k**napped girl realised how little the cape was needed. There was never a chance for that other girl who just might have wanted to run. In the plane it was Audrey Cotswold who took away the cape and shoes.
"Happy, Corey?"
"Oh, yes!" The affirmative was breathless.
"You don´t hate me?"
"Audrey, I love you...!"
"Sit down, darling, there´s a belt..."

The belt went round her waist. Tight! There was a visible padlock which snapped with an emphatic click. "Lean forward, dear, I´m going to change your cuffs."
It was fun to see her hands again. Everything was fun. Corey glowed at her English friend as her wrists were joined above her lap. Considering the belt, she was now more helpless than she had ever been. It was a truly extraordinary game she was privileged to play. In the spirit of the game she tugged at her padlock.
Audrey held up two keys. "Amuse yourself, dear. That´s what I used to do:"

"It´s a lovely feeling." Corey was fingering the belt, the lock, she held up her linked hands and admired her bracelets. "It´s warm and secure...." She tittered happily. "And there´s no way I can get loose. I say, Audrey, am I d***k?"
"Just enough to be happy:"
"Can I have another drink? I want so much to stay like this."
"Oh, you´ll stay like that, my naked beauty!" Audrey teased. "I´ve sat there myself, and a girl just simply doesn´t get up. And yes, I´ll give you another drink." It was lovely to hold up the glass in both her prisoned hands. Corey admired the translucence of whatever it was she was drinking. "This is better than first class." She said thoughtfully. "Have you got this one doctored too?"
"Just a little. Damn remarkable stuff, eh?"
"I know I´m d**gged, Audrey." The captive shook her head as though lost for words. Her eyes were soft. "I want to say something corny and sincere. It isn´t much. Just `thank you`. I know what you´ve done for me. You´ve made the impossible possible."
"I wish I´d had some in my time. It´s ruddy miraculous."
"and the things Mr. Aslam and I got up to...! Wow! And I don´t feel a bit different. In fact, I feel nicer. Just like you said."
"you´re a lot nicer, dear." Audrey´s lips were soft.
Corey leant back and went to sl**p.

Corey Gibson wept. Her tears welled from every emotion save love. "The dirty bastards! The dirty bastards...!" She reiterated the epithet over and over again beneath her breath. "They didn´t need to tie me like this. They didn´t need...!" Painfully, she rolled over on the bare boards of the narrow bunk. But nothing helped. Nothing! The pain from her bound elbows was a steady torment.

The waking up had ben bad enough. She was stiff from sl**ping on the unyielding wood. The discomfort left her ill disposed in her effort to recall. She saw pictures she was unwilling to believe. Impossible outrageous visions of herself doing and saying things to which the daughter of Clifford Gibson would never stoop. She wished them nightmares but knew they were not. Pushing herself from the boards she discovered she was naked, and that she was free.

Her nakedness could not be ignored. It was stark and total. She had been naked in the visions. Sitting up and absorbing her absence of covering she discovered also a flaw in her freedom. There was an uncomfortable weight on her neck, and a trailing chain...! Her fingers explored a metal collar and the considerable length of links attaching her to a ringbolt in the stone wall. It was a debassing way to be constrained, like a dog! She remembered something about being shamed.

The drink or the d**g had left her hazy. It was a couple of minutes before her prison came into focus. It was a square cell. Three walls of stone, one of bars, a barred window high and out of reach. The barred door was a part of the wall which left Corey´s nakedness free to examine by any interested passer by who cared to peer through the bars. Beyond the bars was a view of a sizable courtyard, a lot of sand or dust and a couple of discouraged trees. The air was warm and owed nothing to artificial heat.

There had been a plane... and a journey, and a promise of far away! This was the foreign place. Corey guessed North Africa or the middle East. But what did it matter? What mattered was her condition. Groggily, she got slowly to her feet and went to the bars, glad to clutch them for support. Behind her the chain from her neck trailed obligingly, hindering nothing, save that now she was erect its penal load dragged more heavily on her throat. Holding tight from bar to bar the nude prisoner edged sideways to the door and was sardonically flattered to find she was valued to the extent of three padlocks, top, bottom and centre. The door was very solid indeed. Shaking it, she became aware of her tether as motion brought it into contact with her skin. In fury she saw it would permit her to traverse her cell as though untramelled by such indignity. The collar round her neck was therefore punitive, a punishment, a reminder of whatever it was she had become.
Escape! The word would hammer constantly. She viewed it now. On the face of it, escape was hopeless. A chained neck plus three padlocks made a mockery... but still! Bribery with promised cash or the barter of her body was probably her only weapon. Corey Gibson returned to sit on the bench and to remember bitterly the plush offices of the Planet Corporation´s Office Complex.

The man was in his thirties, possibly Egyption, probably her jailor. His soiled uniform was nondescript, signifying little. His mien and stature were unimpressive. But he was male! Hatefully, Corey Gibson´s hand covered her breasts. Her visitor smiled understandingly and turned his attention to her pubic hair. In an angry gesture, Corey gathered her tether and dragged it to the far wall. Leaning against the stone she offered her visitor nothing but her back and bottom.

"Is very nice." The approval was warm. "You stay like that all day?"
In a cell like this she could never win. But her responses had become instinctive from her lost status. "Go away. Leave me alone."
"I do that, you starve."
She was hungry. Her mouth was dry from the d**g."Push something through the bars." It was the bitterness of Miss Corey Gibson that spawned the order.
"I wish to see your cunt. Turn it round. Put hands behind back. Then you get food."
She was an a****l in a Zoo. To be looked or laughter at, or viewed with lust. The hateful cell quadrupled her nudity.
"Send Mr. Aslam." She demanded curtly.
"He no come. You do not ask."

Corey sighed in defeat. She could not face the wall all day like a naughty girl in school. Presumably others had seen her nakedness, this oaf might as well have a look too. She turned round and walked half way to the bars. "Very well." She said coldly. "Look at me all you like. I´ll even put my hands behind my back. But please bring some water."

He was pleased. After scorching her with the longest leer she had ever known he produced keys. It was whilst he was unlocking the door Corey gathered up the slack of her chain.
"You be good white girl I feed you nice, maybe some wine..."

The nude prisoner flung her chain around his neck and heaved. The plate and the carafe skittered across the floor. His hands reached for her, he was choking. Corey Gibson heaved again.
She might have won. Surprise had given her an advantage. But she was siezed from behind and thrown sprawling. She gazed up fearfully at two dark and resentful visages, one of which was rubbing a tender neck.
"You bitch. We teach lesson."
One went for the rope. The other stood guard. She did not move.
"You stand. We tie."
"Drop dead."

They handled her with expert ease. The weight of knees on her spine pinned her face down on the floor. They tied her wrists with care. Then roped her elbows so that her forearms were welded as one. They went away, laughing. The sound of the door and its locks was, for Corey Gibson, a knell of doom. Weeping, she stayed where they left her, hurt and shamed and without hope. Her breasts thrust against the stone floor without love. She guessed her nipples inverted, they too would sense despair. But after a space of minutes she struggled to her feet and went to the bench. There was no thought in her mind save that that her elbows were hurting, scorched by their bindings, tugging back her shoulders and her breasts. She tried to wriggle her arms and hands but could not. They were tied tight. She was helpless. The collar round her neck became a greater mockery than before.

It was then her experiments began. Surely she could roll or lay in some manner to ease the nagging pain. It was as though her elbows had become enemies, determined to subdue. She thought, longingly, of the handcuffs of hazy memory. It was when she finally desisted that she wept once more.

After awhile she stood again and paced the floor. It was an act of defiance against her tether and the ropes on her arms. Pain was her only companion in the solitary cell. Corey Gibson used it in resentful fury against all that had happened. Driven by the masochism of anger, the daughter of the Planet Corporation lowered herself to the floor and painfully gathered to her lips the spilt food and water her guards had not bothered to remove. She recognized it as the most debasing act of her life.

It was close to evening before her jailor came again. He did not immediately open the door but stood surveying her through the bars, his grin amused, his eyes genuinely curious. Corey forgot her nakedness and her strained breasts. Most of her consciousness was concerned with pain. She had asked herself again and again what she would offer, or be compelled to give, to get rid of the ropes upon her arms. They were now a part of her, deep in her flesh, a persistent scorching misery. She faced him without shame and said a non-commital, hello.

"You be good girl now?"
She fluttered her wracked shoulders in helplessness. "I can´t be anything else, can I?"
"What you give me if I untie?"
"If you´ll enable me to escape I can make you a rich man!"
He shrugged in scorn. "No talk that stuff, is silly."
"I haven´t any money. I haven´t anything... net here."
"You got good cunt."

There it was! Out in the open. Fastidious as she had once been, Corey Gibson knew herself unwilling to face death or injury to preserve her virtue. If the slit between her legs was a weapon she would use it ruthlessly. "I´d be no good." She said reasonably. "I hurt too much, and with my arms tied like this I can´t lay down properly."

"You lay down. You spread legs wide open. If arms hurt more, that good."
"You want to shame me, don´t you?"
"Right!" He glowed approvingly at her perception.
""You lay on arms. You spread the legs. Achmed comes in and fucks."

So this was Aslam´s revenge! She was to be made humble. The bound girl wondered if he was listening beyond the bars where she could not see. Temporizing, she asked: "I´m helpless. You can **** me easily. I can´t do a thing to stop you?"
"Is better you willing. Is nice you spread legs."
Achmed´s grin was avidly anticipatory.
Did this oaf know he was being as psychological in her subjection as his master? Or was it that all men secretly desired the willing submission of the open legs? Was the blatant offering of her bare loins some tribute to their potency? Corey did not know. But, looking her jailor in the eye, she said: "Untie my arms please. I will then do as you wish."
"You do now. Like you are."
"How do I know you´ll untie me after?"
"You trust Achmed. You want I untie now, then tie again tighter after good fuck?"

Corey sighed. Achmed held all the cards. Awkwardly, she lowered her nakedness to the floor, gasping at the pain from her bound arms. Without protest, she spread her legs as far as they would go. In caustic bitterness she supposed a humourist might liken the sound of the three padlocks to her wedding bells.
When the ancient act had moaned itself to consummation he did not help her rise, but stepped away and watched her painful struggle from the floor. When she reached her knees he ordered: "Now you clean with mouth."
Corey Gibson was not surprised. This too would be part of the ancient rite. She took the glistening member in her mouth and dealt with it as competently as she knew how.

"You enjoy?"
"Yes, Achmed, I enjoyed." She was bitterly ashamed of the truth of her admission.
"Achmed enjoy too. You give good fuck. See, I tell! Is better with hurting arms."

She could not hate him. As her captor´s fingers tugged at knots she could almost feel gratitude and a faint warmth that he was actually keeping his word. Corey gasped and cringed in the agony of the peeling of her bonds. When the ropes from elbows and wrists were tossed aside she uttered a heartfelt: "Thank you... Oh, thank you, Achmed."
Then in surprise and shock: "My arms...! They don´t work...!"

He laughed at his tribute to his binding of her limbs, and goodnaturedly massaged her bruised flesh with knowledgable hands. Corey stood in joyous agony, wallowing in the unexpected kindness.
"You make me tie you again, girl?"
"No. I´ll behave. I promise."
"I tie anyway. But not now."
"but why, Achmed, I can´t escape... and I´ve promised!"
"Is for punish. You no ask."

Corey did not ask. She ate her supper hungrily. Achmed stayed and watched, then remained for an hour to share a bottle of unexpected wine. Corey sensed in him a loneliness she might exploit. Wistfully, she asked: "Is this collar and chain locked on mu neck to punish me too?"
"Right!" The exclamation accorded her good marks.
"Am I in a prison?"
"Right! But is most private."
"Does it belong to Mr. Aslam?"
"You ask that too much, you be whipped."

He would answer no more. Exhausted, she slept upon the boards.
The plumbing was simple. A pail of water. Another pail with a broken cover. With breakfast came a bowl and a towel. Both were taken away an hour later. The daughter of vast wealth learned to squat above the empty receptacle in full view of any interested party. She wondered if Assef Aslam had a hidden spyhole through which to view her shame.
"Now I tie for rest of day." Achmed held the rope as for a gift.

Corey did not demur. She needed this man as a friend. Guided by a prompting hand, she thrust her breasts against the bars and looked out across the courtyard. Achmed raised her arm to shoulder level and tied its wrist to a bar, then the other. Miss Corey Gibson stood with arms stretched wide. But not in pain. She was simply tied to the bars of her cell and left alone. The links from her collar trickled down her back. After awhile she would be very tired.

It was not long before the men began to dig. One with a bar, one with a shovel. They were not too distant into the courtyard, and from time to time turned her way and laughed. Corey was surprised and relieved that they did not come and paw her nakedness in its open invitation. She would have had to stand and endure. She could not back away from the bars more than a few inches. It was not until they planted the post solidly in the ground that she knew fear. After the two of them had tamped and pounded and gone away, the seven foot timber stood starkly in its punitive promise of pain.

So she was going to be whipped! The references had not been casual or to tease. The additional refinement of compelling her to watch the implanting of a whipping post for her special benefit was in keeping with the rest. No doubt there would be a considerable period of suspense before she was taken out and bound to the implacable object now awaiting her nudity. Corey wondered vividly how she would behave. Suppose she screamed...! She winced at the mere thought.

But the post was not for her! before long, Corey watched a small procession walk sedately to the newly erected facility. Three men and a woman. The woman might be thirty. She was expostulating vehemently with her companions, but did not drag her steps. All of them spoke a language Corey did not understand. It was an argument of questions and answers, a concerned exchange of views that stopped short of becoming physical. The tied girl watched in amazement through her bars as the woman, with a gesture of disgust, stripped herself of covering. naked, she thrust herself against the post and embraced it with bare arms as though it had become a familiar exercise. Corey Gibson gasped in shock.
The woman was as white as she herself.
One man had rope. He crossed the passive wrists and bound them tight. Another had a hammer and a huge nail. Between them they thrust the tied hands high until their owner stood upon het toes. The nail was inserted beneath her bonds and hammered half its length into the wood. They stood back. Their work was done. The third man held the whip.
Corey Gibson knew guilt. Her tied wrists prevented her turning away. But she could close her eyes. She did not have to watch.
She watched.

Fascinated. Repelled. Curious to assess a punishment of which she knew nothing, but which would almost certainly be inflicted on herself before too long. Was it bearable? By watching, could she gain a comforting reassurance...?

She beheld the lash make its arc. She heard it splat upon bare flesh. The woman flinched and looked back pitifully. That was all. At the fourth stroke the victim screamed and fought the post. Corey supposed a woman would always try to keep silent and would always fail. The victim´s bare legs raised and kicked pathetically. The witnesses exchanged experienced comments. The whip drew back and flashed again. Corey winced at its impact and the feminine scream. She winced fifteen more times before the three men took their whip and went away. The bound woman embracing the post remained standing on her toes. She could move but little. Her legs continued their testimony of anguish. Soon they too were still.

To the naked girl tied to the bars the scene had been in profile. Corey could not properly see the whipped back or striped buttocks. There were marks where the lash had curled beneath a raised arm, angry red welts distance could not hide. But she reluctantly concluded she had not witnessed a true flogging. She could see no bl**d. The woman had not fainted through all her twenty strokes. The whip, therefore, was not lethal. What she had seen was probably normal for this place. Undramatically routine. Miss Corey Gibson shuddered.

The whipped woman eventually became aware of an audience. She turned her head to look at Corey but found nothing remarkable in what she saw. Perhaps naked white girls tied to the bars of their cell was commonplace. The distance between them was far enough to inhibit speech. The day passed slowly. The whipped delinquent remained embracing the post with her tied arms. Corey clutched her bars. That was all.

"Why was that woman whipped, Achmed?"
"She foolish woman. She very rude."
"Who to?"
"You ask questions or you be rude, you go to post too."

Corey sighed. Her conversational gambits seemed limited. She smiled winningly at her jailor. "Tell me, Achmed. Was that a cruel whipping she got or just a light one?"
"Was light. Her master very kind."
"Was it the sort of whipping I´d get?"
"If not too bad." Achmed grinned. "You nosey. You want I whip you? Achmed like whip girls."
"No, thank you. It´s just... well, I´ve never been a prisoner like this before. I don´t know... about anything."
"Is nice for you." Achmed beamed approvingly. "I teach."

"Do I really have to be tied up every day, Achmed? Or do you do that to me for fun?"
"You look very pretty when you tied up. Achmed enjoy."
"Yes, I know I look pretty. But does someone order you to do that to me?"
"You want I fetch whip?"

Corey abandoned her probing. Achmed could be prodded only so far. She was by no means sure he would use the whip on her. But the post in the courtyard was a warning. As things stood he was, in his own fashion, kind and amiable. But why not? He used her as he pleased. She was totally obedient, a model prisoner. Common sense told her it was best to be pliant and await.

To be continued....
.
Geri
www.bdsmfinder.com
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Categories: BDSMFetishHardcore
Posted by wastedaway
4 years ago    Views: 915
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3 years ago
Wonder if this really happens. I think it might. Good story - or is it a story
4 years ago
interesting