Obedience is not understood until tested. Submission is not pure until proven.

Bad Girls Revised Version

“He’s hot, that’s for sure, but I hear Monica’s after him too, Tiff.” Celia fiddled with her chestnut hair, as she looked over at Tiffany Dorsett who stood in front of her locker reluctantly looking for her US History book. The two girls hated History class, to them it was boring and dull with one possible exception.

            “Monica? Monica’s not going to interest him, she won’t put out for him.” Tiffany paused a moment to smooth down her blue micro skirt and adjusted her tight tank top to show a little more of her bare midriff before she continued about her rival. “She’ll flirt, and sex him up with her promises, but I know for a fact she won’t deliver like I will. Monica’s never deep-throated a cock in her sheltered life.” Tiffany gave Celia a knowing look and Celia knew it was true.

            Tiffany was the quintessential bad girl of Connelly High and Celia was her loyal girl with whom she’d been tight since sixth grade. They were seniors now and likely the hottest girls in school and Tiffany was competing with prissy Monica for a life changing prize.

            Danny Fountaine was the prize and the reason was football. In rural Texas where football was king, Danny was right now one of the hottest quarterback prospects in the country. As a senior, Danny had already won a full ride as a Texas Longhorn, but no one at Connelly believed he’d spend four years in Austin. No Danny had NFL written all over him and so he could be a golden ticket for one pretty and willing young girl to escape rural Texas.

            Tiffany’s platinum blonde shag-cut hair and perky breasts had already garnered Danny’s attention and she had no difficulty encouraging his sexual fantasies because Tiffany knew it was where she had the advantage over Prom queen and head cheerleader Monica Graves. Both Tiffany and Celia were certain Tiff would win the prize when Danny discovered Monica was lovely, but untouchable.

            “Come on, Cel, we gotta go to History, but we don’t have to listen. We can just gaze at Mr. Jackson’s ass and whisper about Danny.” Tiff patted Celia’s butt as she turned down the hallway toward Mr. Jackson’s room. The bell had already rung so technically they were late, but who the hell cared?

“Would you do him, Tiff? I mean Jackson.” Celia had heard her best friend make all sorts of comments on the physique of Greg Jackson, but she wondered would Tiff really let him fuck her if the opportunity arose?

Tiffany paused and then smiled. “Ya, it’s nuts, girl, but I think I would. I wonder if he’s hung as good as he looks?”

“Well at least he’s not sixty with white hair and glasses like the rest of the teachers here.” Celia giggled as she pointed out how most of Connelly High’s staff was too old to be of interest.

“What if he’s hung like a stallion, Cel. That would be so hot.”

“What if Douglas Crompton was hung like a stallion, would you do him?”

Instantly Tiffany made a face. “Ewwww, no way, Compton is nerd city. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.”

The girls turned into the door of Mr. Jackson’s classroom giggling about such a ridiculous thought.

Of course they were quite late and the whole class was seated and looked up at them as they walked in. However the look on Mr. Jackson’s face was less than amused. “Oh, there you are. Class, the giggly sisters have deigned to grace us with their presence today.” Greg Jackson’s deep blue eyes stared at his two worst students and he wondered how he would ever get through to them. He was near the end of his rope with conventional methods, but what else was there?

“A word of warning, girls, you’re both on thin ice today. It’s not going to take much for me to slap a detention on both of you.”

Detention? Yah, wouldn’t that be hot. Celia and I alone after school with Mr. Jackson.

 “Sorry we’re late, Mr. Jackson.” Celia’s apology was almost unheard by Tiff as she was deep in thought.

Should I drag Celia into this, or just go solo?

The girls took their seats, side by side in the second row, and Tiff gave Celia a devilish look to which Celia shrugged her shoulders wondering what her girl had on her mind. Celia knew with Tiff it could be anything.

“Okay, people today we start on the Civil War. We’ll be covering it all week so read chapters thirteen through sixteen and be ready to participate in class discussion. Remember it’s twenty percent of your grade, a twenty percent Miss Dorsett and Miss Evers have a zero in. Next Monday, you’ll get a preliminary test on the material. Now who can start us off with a cause of the war?” To Greg’s utter shock, Tiffany raised her hand, fluttering it sexily in the air.

“Tiffany, this better be a real answer, not one of your silly answers. I’m in no mood.”

“No, sir, it’s real city, Mr. J. The black people down south were being used, like they were slaves or something, you know the whole whips and chains thing.” The words came off Tiffany’s tongue with naïve innocence, but Greg heard them differently.

Jesus, what would it be like to have her collared and strapped to an X cross at the club? She oozes sexuality, but I’d better not think about it cause it’s not gonna happen. Greg took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts of how Tiffany would fit into his secret life out of his mind. Here at his day job he had to keep his proper teacher mind so right-wingers in the administration and the school board would let him stay. It was only at night usually at a BDSM club over 120 miles away that he could let loose as Master Greg and dominate sweet young things like Tiffany.

“A near miss, Tiffany. The African-Americans living in the South were slaves, not like slaves. Their chains were quite real and there were whips.” Greg paused almost unable to get the vision of a naked, collared Tiffany out of his head.

“Okay, Tiffany gave us slavery, let’s expand on that. What event happened, just prior to the war, which focused both sides attention on the slavery issue?”

Only Douglas Compton’s hand rose and Greg’s optimism sank. “Oh come on, people, I know Doug knows this. What about the rest of you?” Greg ran his hand through his thick blond hair in frustration, but still no new hands went up.

Tiffany took the opportunity while Greg was distracted to whisper to Celia. “I want to get us both a detention, Cel. Are you in?”

“Why?” Celia made a face and shook her long chestnut hair as she didn’t understand what her girl was thinking.

“To be alone with him and see what happens.” Tiffany moved her hand to her crotch and made a lewd motion like she was stroking a cock.

By now, Douglas had been allowed to give the answer John Brown’s raid so Ken’s attention was back on Tiffany just in time to catch the cock-stroking motion and Celia leaning over to whisper her answer.

“Okay, I’m in.”

Celia had no idea she was in whether she wanted to be or not until Ken spoke to them. “Okay, girls, it’s clear you’re not interested so you both have detention today at four. We’ll see if you can concentrate better then.”

Ken continued to pull teeth for causes of the Civil War from his class, but the effort only frustrated him. Tiffany Dorsett’s body added to his frustration and he could have sworn she smiled and nodded at him twice when he looked at her, but why would she?

When class ended, Celia simply got up and left, but not so Tiffany. The platinum blonde strolled coquettishly to his desk and smiled at him. “See you at detention, Greg, I’m looking forward to the extra attention.” Greg watched the pink-skirted ass exit the room and then he reached down to find his cock was rock hard.

* * * *

Greg noted Tiffany and Celia arrived for detention at five of four. They were always late to class so he wondered why they would be early to his detention. He made them sit and read eight pages in their texts covering the succession of South Carolina and the taking of Fort Sumter before he began questioning them to see what they retained. Greg isn’t sure why he thinks it’s necessary, but he closes and locks his door.

“Okay, girls, tell me what happened at Fort Sumter?”

Celia cleared her throat and seemed to want to respond. “They fired on the fort, like with cannons.”

“Tiffany, help Celia out. Who fired on Fort Sumter?” Greg watched as Tiffany looked up at him and smiled, tossing her head back to expose her neck. This preening had nothing to do with Fort Sumter and he knew it. Tiffany Dorsett hadn’t come to his detention to learn history.

“Who cares, Greg, I’m more interested in what you’re into. I see the way you look at me.” Tiffany opened her legs and flashed her black panties at her teacher leaving no doubt as to what was on her mind.

Greg Jackson’s mind went into overdrive. He knew both girls were eighteen, Celia just barely as opposed to Tiffany who was close to nineteen having repeated an earlier grade, but could he get away with this? Surely they would be shocked and freaked out by the things he was into and they would talk to other students if not faculty or administration. He saw himself fired, his name in the papers with little prospect of getting a teaching job again.

“Wow, Greg, you are packing. How big are you?” Tiffany’s surprised question brought Greg back to the present to see his growing hard-on was tenting his slacks.

“Are you two serious about this? Do you really want to know what I’m into? It’s not what you think.”

Tiffany gave Greg a puzzled look as she stood up and approached him. She touched his erection through his slacks and Greg gasped, but pushed her hand away.

“Are you into kinky stuff, Greg? I’m game, what about you, Cel.”

There was a moment’s pause before Celia responded. “How kinky?”

Greg took a deep breath and let the cat out of the bag. “Well, I’m into Dominant/submissive relationships and the limits of pleasure and pain.”

Tiffany’s blue eyes lit up. “You mean like we could be your slaves and you’d punish us if we were bad?” Immediately Tiff pulled her skirt up and bent over Celia’s desk showing Greg her ass.

“I guess that’s one way to put it, but it’s not all pain there’s pleasure too.” Greg’s eyes were glued to Tiffany’s ass hoping he might get the chance to spank it.

However while Tiff was in the throes of pure anticipation, Celia was unsure and Tiff saw the uncertainty on her best friend’s face. “Come on, Cel, let’s play with him. Until you get used to things I’ll take the pain and you get the pleasure.”

One of the reason’s Celia had been Tiffany’s friend so long was that she loved how bold Tiff was and wished she could be like her friend. “Okay, I’m in, like you didn’t know I would be.”

With Celia on board, Tiffany’s boldness grew and she slid down her micro-fiber panties and spread her legs slightly stretching the fabric between her knees. She was well aware Greg could now see her shaved pussy, but she had other things on her mind. “Will you spank me, Greg, please?” Tiffany’s words came out in a throaty rush indicating to Greg she might very well be intensely submissive.

“Is that what you want, Tiffany? Do you want my hand to make your bottom red? I won’t go softly with you. You’ll get the same as all my subs; a real spanking.” Greg wanted to test how serious Tiffany was.

It was Celia who looked shocked. “Are you sure, Tiff? I mean it’s probably gonna hurt.”

“It will hurt.” Greg reaffirmed.

Tiffany reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart to display her pussy and anus. “If you spank me, Greg, you fuck me and you give Cel whatever she wants. Deal?”

“If only the three of us ever know this happened. You both mustn’t tell a soul.”

Now Tiffany Dorsett said something which revealed her true nature and surprised Greg. “I don’t want to talk. I want to do.”

Greg could barely believe this gorgeous nineteen-year-old was anxious to play with him. Was this his dream come true or was it hers?

Cautiously Greg moved beside Celia’s desk so his hand could reach out to feel Tiffany’s smooth bottom. He couldn’t resist letting it run down her ass cleft to touch her pussy and Tiff sighed.

“Spank me first. I want to know what a good hard spanking does to me.” Then Tiff looked up at Celia and saw her friend was looking at Greg’s stiffness still confined in his pants. “Oh, and Celia wants to see your cock. She likes cocks, we both do.”

Greg could barely believe what he heard, but he unzipped quickly and let his nine inches escape his slacks.

“Oh god, Tiff, he is hung.” Celia’s eyes were wide at the thick rod jutting from Greg’s pants.

“Maybe you could motivate him as he spanks me, Cel, you know you want to taste.” Tiffany knew her best friend was an oral lover who liked to please and be pleased by mouth and tongue. She had felt Cel’s tongue in her pussy many times and had watched Cel spend hours sucking cock.

Greg finally let his hand leave Tiffany’s moist pussy to be raised up in preparation for his first blow to her ass. “Ready?”

“Do it.” Tiffany’s affirmation let loose Greg’s left hand to smack down on the softness of her bum. Greg made the blow medium hard for he was afraid a true hard smack might bring a scream and tears, but there was no cry of pain from the prone Tiffany.

Instead she looked up at his with a fierce anger in her eyes. “I thought you were going to spank me for real, Greg. My mother hits harder than that.”

Greg realized he had a real pain slut here, but his attention was distracted for a moment as Celia, unable to resist, licked the head of his cock with her tongue. “Ohhhh, that’s it, baby. Lick Master’s cock like a good slave.” The words “Master” and “slave” simply came out naturally for Greg, but he seized up and wondered if he was going too fast with these two. He didn’t want to frighten them.

“Wow, did you hear, Cel, we can be Greg’s slaves. Are you as anxious to serve Master Greg as I am?”

Celia took a moment as Greg’s cock head had found its way into her mouth. She sucked and swirled her tongue on the sensitive tip and then smacked her lips to release the bobbing erection. “I think I could get used to it, Tiff. He sure has a nice cock.” Celia took the hardness back into her mouth deep throating it and eliciting a groan from Greg.

Still though, Greg did not forget his promise and he brought his hand up to give Tiffany the same kind of blow he would administer to one of the subs at his club. He thwacked the soft bottom six times in quick succession bringing pinkness to the flesh. “Enough?”

“Oh fuck, no, please more.” Tiffany moaned.

Greg reeled off six more slightly harder strokes and not the lush jigging ass under him was reddening nicely. It’s true, at least for this one. She’s a pain slut. Greg knew pretenders didn’t take twelve stroke of the severity he had just given Tiffany.

“Do you want more, slut.” The words just slipped out as they were just what he would say to a tortured bitch at the club.

“Yessss, please and touch me.” Tiffany’s voice was a hiss of desire and Greg reached and grabbed her platinum hair. He eased her head back and toward him so he could look at her face and he saw what he expected. Tears were streaming down Tiff’s face from the pain, but she wanted more. She would get what she asked for.

Greg released her hair and slipped his left hand under her to find her pussy. His fingers invaded her cleft easily as she was soaking wet. He ripped off six more harsh stokes with his right hand and as soon as the last one hit he let his thumb swipe across Tiffany’s clit.

The physical reaction was spasmodic and Tiffany Dorsett’s body writhed to a massive orgasm the first she’d ever had which was enhanced by pain, but deep in Tiffany’s mind a door swung open.

This is it. This is what I want. To be a slave serving a Master who brings me to the heights of pleasure and pain. Greg can be my Master and make me toe the line like no one else ever has. No one had brought discipline to Tiffany’s life until now.

Celia’s neck had been stretched to allow her to wrap her lips around Greg’s cock until Tiffany climaxed and then she held her best friend feeling the quivers of pleasure rack her body. “Wow, you came so fast, girl, from a spanking.” Celia was stunned not at Tiffany’s orgasm but by the pain related circumstances of it.

“You really are into this, aren’t you?” Celia asked as he friend finally looked up at her.

“I had no idea it would be like this, Cel, really.” Tiffany paused and looked up at Greg. “Please, sir, give me more of this. Let me be your slave.”

Celia looked unsure as to where this was going, but Greg sensed an opportunity here to make better students of these two hotties.

“And you, Celia, do you want to play too. It has to be both of you because I know you are close.” Greg was counting on Celia’s loyalty to Tiffany.

“Slave? I’m not sure, I mean are you sure, Tiff?”

Tiffany nodded, her tear-stained face looking as certain as Celia had ever seen before. “Please, Cel, please say yes.”

However Celia was still uncertain. “So what do slaves do other than pain? I’m not sure I like pain as much as Tiff seems to.”

Now Greg understood the dynamic between them. Tiffany would be his little blonde pain slut while chestnut Celia would be the hedonist always seeking orgasm. His fun would come in denying her on occasion. “May I show you?”

Celia looked at Tiffany as if for courage.

“Please, let him.” Tiff begged.

“What are you going to do?” Celia asked.

“Bind you and have Tiffany hold you until you beg me to let you climax. I’ll just use my fingers and mouth to make you beg.”

Now Celia smiled. “Will I come?” She was jealous of Tiffany’s earth shattering orgasm and she wanted one of her own.

“It depends on if you’re a good slave, or not.”

“Okay, what do I do?” As soon as Celia conceded Tiffany hugged her.

“Stand up and sit on your desk. Tiffany, you sit in her chair behind her. Now I’m going to use my belt to bind your wrists behind your back and lower you back so you’re resting against Tiffany. She’ll be holding you so you can’t move while I spread you, pull your panties aside, and play with your pussy. You’ll be in great pleasure, but you’ll be dependent on me to give you orgasm. That’s where the begging comes in.” When Celia nodded consent, Greg removed his belt from his pants and wrapped the leather around Celia’s wrists before he buckled it. It was by no means an inescapable restraint, but Greg was counting on Celia being carried away by the new and heady sensation of bondage the feeling of helplessness.

He went to his knees letting her spread legs rest on his broad shoulders for comfort as he pulled aside her pink lace panties to reveal a neatly trimmed chestnut V of pussy hair.

Celia sighed as Greg’s tongue made contact with her slit. It was hard to get high school boys to eat pussy as she well knew so the last time she’d been tongued by anyone other than Tiff was the college mixer in October. She quickly realized Greg had the instincts and knowledge of a woman in finding her secret sensitive places were a women desires oral contact.

Soon Celia was writhing with two of Greg’s fingers inside her as his tongue danced on her engorged clit. How had he got her this close so quickly she wondered? Oh my god, it’s the bondage. The helpless feeling makes it more intense.

Now for the first time since he began Greg spoke. “I don’t hear anything.” He stopped his tongue and withdrew his fingers.

Celia lurched trying to move up, but Tiffany held her fast. She pulled against the leather belt around her wrists, but her best friend was holding the end of that too making it tight.

“Oh no you don’t, Cel. You do as our Master asks.” Tiffany’s voice was serious as she had realized what Greg was doing and how it would motivate her best friend like the spanking had motivated her.

Celia had heard Greg say she needed to beg to come, but it had been abstract to her because she wasn’t so close to the jagged edge of her orgasm. Now with her wrists tightly bound, her torso in Tiffany’s hold and Greg between her wildly pulsing legs playing with her soaked sex it all became reality. Could she beg for orgasm?

“Please, Greg, let me come.” Celia’s words were a barely audible whisper.

“What was that, slave?” Greg asked slipping one finger back into her warm slit.

“I need to come, please.” It was a horse plea from the captured girl.

“Who do you want to make you come, slave?” Greg’s sternness made it clear she would have to acknowledge him as Master is she wanted to be allowed to climax.

“Oh, oh fuck, Master, please let me.” Celia whined.

With the word Master, Greg slipped a second and third finger into Celia’s tightness and he playfully licked around, but not on, her clit.

Now as pain had brought them to Tiffany, tears formed in Celia’s eyes. The tears of sexual frustration, never felt before by Celia, had brought her to the same stage as her blonde friend. One mastered by pain, the other by the denial of orgasmic pleasure. In Greg’s eyes they were a perfect pair to serve him. For just a moment Greg toyed with the idea of denying Celia as he thought it might be a more powerful stimulus for her, but then he decided she had learned his power and not she would feel the savage power of a denied orgasm now granted.

Greg leaned in and took Celia’s sex bud into his mouth sucking on it powerfully until she climaxed explosively, writhing, shaking, and quivering to her intense pleasure.

Oh, my god, this is the best I’ve ever come. Can it really be the bondage, the helplessness, and the begging?

* * * *

Two years pass and Danny Fountaine is but a distant memory after tearing all three crucial knee ligaments in his freshman season as a Longhorn. Tiffany and Celia have both graduated from Connelly High and are commuting together to a small local college. Their tuition is paid in full by their Master Greg and they live rent free with him in his home. Because of the agreement they now serve as his slave harem and partake of endless sexual delights in his basement dungeon because they fulfilled their end of the bargain he drove with them that first detention afternoon after Celia climaxed.

Today is a special day for Tiffany so all during the ride home and until they burst giggling into the front room of Master’s home she is teased by Celia, but silence ensues once they are inside. As they had been trained, both slaves remove their clothes and fold them neatly on a small table in the front room. While stripping, Tiffany looks up and points to the house bulletin board where two faded sheets of paper which hang.

“What if we’d failed, Cel. I hated studying for it, but it’s opened up everything.” Tiffany smiles at her friend knowing how important the two faded sheets were to both of them.

“Are you kidding? Fail? I was too horny to fail. Master wouldn’t give us anything until we did it. We couldn’t fail.” Celia joined her best friend in reaching up and touching the two US History final exams for the luck they were certain they contained. A closer look reveals Celia had a real talent in History as her final was a perfect 100, while Tiffany had not shown such perfection. No, the 93 circled in red on the top of Tiffany’s two year old exam was the lowest possible mark she could have received without breaking the agreement between her and Celia and their Master.

Greg Jackson had made a deal with the girls after introducing them to his kinky lifestyle. He had abstained from touching them, giving them none of the sweet pleasures they now knew they wanted until they both got a legitimate A’s on the his US History final exam. For one full semester, self discipline, intense studying, and a frustrating state of horniness ruled Tiffany and Celia until they won themselves a Master for as long as they chose to serve.    


Enya's Tale

Enya watched as the war party of Kellmar warriors returned, her blond hair typical of the Utto tribe, moving in the warm, summer breeze. Her naked breasts pressed against the hastily-constructed wooden cage, she fretted about how slim the chances of rescue were. We are still in Spaymore Forest, only thirty leagues from our tribal lands, but after the attack on the main village all my people who have not been killed or captured will be hiding out. A thought of the stout Grimar, her betrothed, entered her fear-racked mind, but she pushed it away else she begin to sob again. I don’t even know if he lives as he was amongst the first wave of our warriors into the battle.

The battle she referred to had been more of a wholesale slaughter, although she personally had no idea to what degree it had been one-sided. The warlike, better-armed, and better trained Kellmar had cut down wave after wave of Utto warriors until nearly all of them lay dead or fleeing the field.

The sad truth which Enya might never know Grimar had acquitted himself well, killing four Kellmar before two of them attacked him and slew him with their swords. He had screamed out her name as he died, but she would never see him alive again.   

Yet Enya was no fool and she knew here fate would be harsh. My people will hide out, terrified, in the sea caves for perhaps month, and by the time they emerge it will be too late to save me from being taken north. Far to the north, in the Kellmar capitol of Darthia, she would meet her fate; to be viciously and systematically trained as a sexual slave. There was also the possibility she would never make it to Darthia.

Kept in her wooden prison naked, Enya’s body was tightly roped with her wrists and elbows locked together behind her back. This left Enya was quite helpless and vulnerable. Already some to the horrors of sexual slavery had begun. Every night, her beautiful body was abused and penetrated by many Kellmar warriors who used her for their pleasure with no regard for her pain.

However as scary as her sexual use and degradation was, it was not what worried her the most. When she had been captured and placed in the wooden cage there had been nine other women in there with her and three other cages housed an equal number of captured females of all the Utto tribes. Now about twelve moons later by her recollection, there were no more than three women in each of the other cages. They could of course been taken north to Darthia, but Enya had seen no great assemblage of warriors leave and she had noticed all the women had disappeared one at a time.

Something else had come to her attention too. The woman who had disappeared had all been older, or extremely young, leaving the prime beauties at the peak of their sexuality left in the cages. Was her beauty to be a curse to her?

This was not the first generation of Utto women to have been captured and driven north by brutal Kellmar warriors. No, it had happen to Enya’s grandmother’s time, but she had done something no other Utto woman had ever done. With the help of her two brothers, who secretly trailed the Kellmar party north, she had escaped after only three months in the slave pens of Darthia. Yet even with her escape, she was never the same happy girl she had been, for the horrors she had seen and experienced had weighed heavily upon her. As a child, Enya had heard some of the stories her grandmother had told of being trained as a slave in the Kellmar capitol city.

Naked Utto women were pierced and chained in their nipples and labia lips and led about by chains like sexual pets. Slaves were trained to suck cock by having a carved wooden phallus clamped to their breasts. The phallus would rise upright and curve so as to easily penetrate their mouths deeply. The act of sucking the wooden cock would move the base which was cruelly clamped to their nipples thus causing great agony.

Worst of all there was a torture her grandmother had simply called the pit where a disobedient or failed slave was immersed in a pit of stinking mink oil. The pit was covered with a barred metal top a Kellmar male would lay over the pit with his erection jutting down between the bars. The Utto slave girl had a choice; suck the male’s cock and a tube would be extended down the fleshy rod to allow her to breath as she sucked, or she could simply drown in the oil and die ending her subjugation. Before she was rescued, Enya’s grandmother had seen many of her friends put into the pit and many simply gave up and died.

            Enya knew if she made the journey north unlike her grandmother there would be no rescue for her. Eventually she might have to make the choice the pit forced upon a slave to suck and serve, or die. How will I decide? Will I have the strength to live?

Enya’s thoughts were interrupted by an approaching Kellmar warrior who she recognized as he had rutted inside her two moons past. He was dragging behind him a new captive of stunning beauty and he shouted at the fat, old guard. “Open the cage, I wish to give the Utto bitch some company. I will have two Utto sluts to serve me this evening after the feast.”

The guard snapped to attention and moved smartly which told Enya this warrior was no mere soldier, but someone of more than passing importance. She watched as he pushed a lovely Tamerian woman with long reddish-brown hair and the high cheekbones of her tribe. The women was bound like Enya, but she still had the tattered and torn remnants of some fine clothing clinging to the tight ropes binding her lush body.

Once she was inside, the guard put on a show, perhaps for the benefit of the warrior. “Get on your knees, bitch. It is where you belong in the presence of the First Captain of Kellmar’s Legion.” The guard bent down and push the Tamerian captive’s bountiful breasts and face to the dirt floor of the cage. As he ground her face into the earth, he pulled the rope around her neck choking her. Enya could only watch for she knew if she interfered on behalf of the women her effort would be wasted against the strength of the males, and she would then suffer the same or worse.

Now the warrior spoke. “I could have him kill you right now and I would never give your death another thought, but Tantor can be merciful to his best slaves if they serve well.” Now he also bent down and as the guard held the Tamerian he slipping his fingers into the girl’s exposed slit.

“Yes, nice and tight as a slave’s cunt should be.” Tantor casually frigged the captive with three fingers as the Tamerian whined and tried to get free initially. However soon the girl’s whining and struggling was replaced with a distant look and soft moans of pleasure. To Enya’s amazement the likely high born Tamerian woman climaxed on Tantor’s fingers her body shaking and shivering to her orgasm.

“Tantor rewards his best slaves with allowing them pleasure. I wish to train you two as a pair and have you pierced and linked together to serve as my personal slaves as long as you serve well.” Standing up, he grabbed Enya’s breasts and squeezed them until she screamed in pain.

“Get to know each other, as you will pleasure yourselves many times to please me. Remember, the slave pens of Darthia are difficult to survive, but by being my slaves, you avoid them so serve well and live well.” Tantor was now fondling Enya’s soft breasts his message being docile cooperation would earn them a better life in the Kellmar world.

Enya watched as the newcomer struggled to her feet and spit into the dirt at Tantor’s feet. “The first wife of the 6th House of Tameria serves no Kellmar swine. I will die before I serve with this common bitch as your slave.”

Tantor looked at the haughty woman closely as if appraising her. “Then fail to serve me tonight after the feast and you shall get your wish. I am First Captain of the Legion, son of King Valant and first in line to the throne of Kellmar. To me the 6th House of Tameria might as well be a whorehouse.” Tantor turned and strode out of the cage, but the guard added to Enya’s worry.

“My advice to you foolish bitches is to serve him and serve him well. Someday soon he will be King of Kellmar and serving in the royal house is a far better fate than death in the slave pens, but it’s up to you. Die if you desire.” The guard left binding the cage closed behind him.

Enya did not wish to die, but as she looked into the gray eyes of the newcomer she wondered if the high born women could accept slavery. With her best manners she spoke to the Tamerian. “May I ask your name, noble lady, I am Enya of the Utto?”

“I am Bella the chosen of Lord Claymore.”

Enya had heard of Claymore, a powerful Tamerian Lord known for his prowess in battle and for a moment her thought turned to rescue. “Does he live, your Lord Claymore?” If he did, she assumed he might rescue his betrothed so Enya would stick close to Bella.

Unfortunately, Bella dissolved in tears and Enya had her answer before the woman spoke a word. “My chosen and his entire First Guards were slaughtered like pigs by these Kellmar scum. Then they seized the women and took me and my little sister Glenna. I must find Glenna to protect her; she was taken away with the younger girls and older women.”

Once again Enya heard of young girls and older women being taken away, perhaps never to return. “Your sister is not yet woman, Bella?”

“No she has not yet come of age, but what difference does such a detail make?” Bella looked amazed Enya had asked.

“I hope it means nothing, but I fear it may be important. We will do as we can for your sister, but I fear it is not much. I have seen many young girls and older women disappear in the twelve moons I have been here. None have returned.”

“You know something. What are you not telling me?” As both women were bound unable to use their hands and arms, Bella could only stick her angry face in Enya’s.

“I know nothing. All I have is fears of something so terrible I will not speak it until I know.” Enya paused and got a hold of her anger. Taking a deep breath she addressed a more important topic to her.

“What of Tantor and tonight? Will you serve him with me, be paired as he desires so we may escape the horrors of the public slave pens in Darthia?”

Bella lowered her head and mumbled. “I am no man’s slave.”

Enya countered. “In this situation, you are what the Kellmar say you are. The choice we have is between great horror and likely death and an easier slavery, to one powerful man, with pleasures for us and better conditions. I know what I choose, but he wants both of us.” Enya wondered is it was her common birth which was stopping Bella.

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he? Chained together intimately like sexual beasts. A wife of the 6th house would never . . .”

Enya knew now and in her anger she butted Bella with her head sending the Tamerian to the dirt. “You stupid, high born, bitch, don’t you understand? You are not a wife of the 6th house anymore. You are already a slave with your only choice being whether or not to be a miserable or dead slave, or a reasonably content live slave. You have no other choices.”

There was silence for a time as Bella considered and Enya tried not to stay angry. Finally the blonde spoke on a neutral topic. “Tell me, forgetting no detail, what you saw when you entered the Kellmar camp.”

Bella looked up at the blonde, not quite understanding why, but feeling like Enya was working on a theory about where her sister had been taken. Slowly the experience poured out of her. “There was myself, Glenna, and our five handmaidens who were captured with us. We had all been stripped and bound and when we entered the camp there was much hooting and pointing by the fucking men, mostly at me. We stopped in front of a huge fire pit with an iron spit over it where they separated us and Tantor grabbed me. Glenna and our handmaidens were sent off toward a large tent and I was pulled away by Tantor.” Bella stopped a glazed look in her eyes, but she seemed to remember something else.

“I looked back once when terrible screams came from the tent and a man strode out covered in blood. He was carrying something which was also covered in blood so I wasn’t sure what it was. Before I was gain pulled away by Tantor, I saw him take the spit from the fire and skewer the object. It must have been meat, perhaps a deer leg.”

Enya heard the words and felt the horror of what she was now reasonably sure she knew. The question now was; should she speak her fears to Bella or would they be too impossible to believe. I barely believe it so how could she? It’s her sister after all. The battle of decision raged in Enya’s head and it was actually the practical reason to tell Bella her fears which won out. Perhaps the terrible knowledge will shock her into action, to serve Tantor with me. Enya shook her head knowing the knowledge would only affect Bella if she believed it.

Nonetheless, she had to try. Enya pushed forward and stood breast to breast with Bella letting her blue eyes stare into Bella’s gray ones. “Bella, forget about your past life. Tantor is our future if we have one. You must submit to him because there is more going on here than you realize.” Enya paused gathering her resolve.

“Bella, it wasn’t a dear leg you saw skewered and you may not believe me but I’m sure your sister is dead. The Kellmar are only saving the most beautiful young but fully blossomed women for sex slaves, they are doing what they apparently do with the rest . . .” Enya paused making the sign of the great sun god on her chest before she looked again at Bella for signs of recognition.

“What do you mean? What are you saying? Whatever it is Glenna is fine, she has to be.” Bella laid her head on Enya’s chest as she began to sob.

“Bella, those they do not fancy as sex slaves the filthy Kellmar are eating them. This is why the too young and too old are disappearing."

To Bella’s sobbing was added the pathetic repeating cries of “No, no it can’t be.” When the high born Tamerian gain raised her head from Enya’s chest, Enya noticed a light of life had gone out in Bella’s now dull eyes.

Time passed in silence between the two captive as Enya wondered if Bella would make the leap to wanting to live. Later under the moon, Tantor had them brought to his quarters where they ate well even it it was from dishes placed on the floor. Enya submitted fully willingly giving her body and mind to Tantor and making every effort to please him.

On the other hand, Bella struggled, screamed, cried and demanded to know the fate of her sister. At one point her evening ended when she tried to strike Tantor with a plate.

Enya awoke chained to Tantor’s bed with a ankle iron and she was eventually pierced and linked intimately with a dark-skinned beauty of the Nubis tribe to the far south. They remained Tantor’s loyal sex slaves for twelve seasons and saw his ascension to the Kellmar throne. Enya gave him his firstborn son and when the boy grew to be king he freed his mother who remained beside her son until she died of old age.

In contrast, Bella died in nine days in the pit at the slave pens of Darthia still haughty and still believing Glenna lived. 

Colette's Gift

            It had all been just a ski trip, from their shared apartment in Brookline to the White Mountains of New Hampshire. They had taken Denise's Honda because Collette's Lexus was in the shop. Friends since their college days at BC, they talked the whole of the five hours trip. Mostly about work and their relationship, but then the converse took a sexual turn.

            "Isn't this the sort of romantic setting you imagine it happening in Denise?" Collette, a raven-haired beauty with smoldering green eyes, asked as she drove the Honda through the snow, tall pines, and spruce, on a small back road. Collette smiled at her girlfriend letting her know she was referring to their joint sexual capture scenario they had discussed and elaborated on many times in the past.

            Denise was distracted, the hazel-eyed brunette, with the more innocent look of the two, was concerned if they were lost. "Shouldn't we have taken a right back there?" She through Collette a look that said you've gotten us lost.

            "No, the Mapquest thingy said left, so that's what I did, relax, Denise, your too keyed up. Wait till I get you in the hotel room, I'll ease your tension with some licking of that sweet pussy of yours."

            The tension seemed to flow out of Denise, at her lover's mention of future tonguing on her pussy. Both girls still considered themselves bisexual, and they would occasionally bring men home to their apartment for a one night stand of fucking. However, their primary sexual interest was now on each other, and their joint fantasy of being taken and forced to serve strong, handsome men as slaves. Part of their imagined fantasy was sexually performing with each other, in front of their captors.

            "In answer to your silly question, you know it is. I was the one who suggested to you it should be in a forest, with tall, dark trees and snow. Like Hanover, when I was a girl." Denise had been born and grown up in Hanover, NH, the home of Dartmouth College, but she had forsaken her hometown college for Beantown, and Boston College where she had met Collette, an Arizona girl, as freshman on the women's volleyball team.

            Going around a sharp curve in the road, the girls spotted a huge iron gate between two stone pillars, The gate had a seal, a coat of arms, on its center, and a driveway ran up to a well-lit mansion they could barely see about a mile up the climbing drive.

            "Oooow, what a beautiful place. Love to live there." Denise cooed as she looked over the stately mansion and grounds in the dying light. 

            "Well, sweetie, for this weekend, you will. This is where I made our reservations, Spruce Farm. It's a very exclusive, private place I found on the Internet." Collette smiled the mischievous smile she used when she had done something without her lover's knowledge.

            "But . . . I thought we had a Best Western. You said we had to budget this trip. You’re such a lying bitch." Denise feigned a rage and then laughed as Collette stopped the Honda and got out to ring the bell near the gate. She never touched the bell.

* * * *

            By Denise’s calculation, she had been in the dungeon for six days, far longer than the three day weekend they had planned. She still vividly remembered Collette being grabbed and overcome by three strong men dressed completely in black. As soon as she had seen her friend taken, three other men had descended on her. She had no chance to ask a question as the men had gagged them and carried them into the mansion. As she always had suspected it would, this unexpected capture scenario began to excite her sexually, and when the men stripped her and chained her, placing a leather collar on her neck, she was dripping wet.

            Then there had been the use. Multiple times everyday, men had come to use her bound body. She had welcomed the use, taken them in all her orifices, and felt their seed squirt inside her or tasted them. Ohh, they make me come all the time. What can be better than having sweet orgasms forced out of you?

            When she had even been taken before the boss, his men called him Lord Wallace, he had fucked her ass deep, making her come just before he squirted in her tight rear channel, by fingering her clit. After her butt fucking, he had tried to make her acknowledge she was his slave forever, but she had refused and gotten a brutal whipping for her refusal. More than anything else which had happened to her, Denise was shocked when the whipping aroused her.

            Save for one detail, this had been her captured slave scenario, but the missing piece was Collette, whom she had not seen since day one of her captivity. Missing her lover horribly, Denise wished she could share this with Collette.

            A few more days rolled by in the sexual haze which was her new life of servitude, and then one day two men to unchain her? At first she was alarmed, fearing it was all over, but they dressed her in a full body harness of red leather, snapped clamps to her nipples with a chain between them, and forced a gag over her mouth. The gag was actually a huge black dildo sprouting from her mouth. Her heart stirred, as Denise could think of no reason to make her mouth into a cock to please a man. But a woman, yes. As she was lead down the now familiar corridor to Lord Wallace's playroom, she hoped desperately. It has to be Collette, please.

            Denise's hazel eyes went immediately to her lover, as she entered the room. Collette's green eyes shone with a sexual fervor at her as her lover looked delectable in a white leather harness similar to hers. Collette’s breasts where also chained and clamped, but she too wore the dildo tied to her mouth. Their going to make us fuck each other. Oh, please let it be true.

            Forced to their knees in front of Lord Wallace, Denise looked up at the Dark-haired man sitting in the throne-like chair. Assuming he was going to dictate the terms of their slavery to them, but she was surprised when he spoke.

            "My contract from you has expired, Collette, so it is time for your friend to decide. Does she wish to stay at Spruce Farm where you are both welcome, or do she wish to go. You have both been trained and sexually used as slaves now, but if she gives the word you are free to go.” Lord Wallace pointed to a door, which one of his men opened, and there carefully garaged was Denise’s Honda, looking ready and waiting to take them away for here.

            Denise's mind buzzed. What is he saying? Collette contracted for this experience, she paid for him to train and treat us as sex slaves. Why would she do such a thing? Yet it didn’t take long for Denise to see the truth.

            She did it for me. Knowing I had a desire to try this, which I probably never would have acted upon, she took it upon herself to give me this gift. She risked everything to bring our relationship to this new level.

            Denise knew what she had to do, but as the dildo gag in her mouth made intelligent speech impossible she did not know how she was to answer. Looking up at Lord Wallace, she saw he understood her confusion.

            “The door will remain open for five minutes, slave, and to go home all you two must do is rise and walk through it. My men will do the rest, getting you dressed and on your way home. However if you don’t wish to leave, simply don’t use the door, and you and Collette will spend a week in a cell together, continuing your slave training. In one week there will be another open door to walk through, or not as the case may be.”

            Denise moved to Collette, rubbing her nude body to her lover, and then the two of them moved to a nearby blanket and dissolved into a sixty-nine. They fucked until well after the door had closed, and when the gags were removed in their new joint cell, Denise smiled at her lover and spoke softly.

            “Thanks, girl, I never would have mustered the courage.”



Rhiannon Gets A New School

Rhiannon had always been an A student in school, passing all her exams, answering correctly in class, and helping out her fellow students, but she had a wilder, disobedient nature at home, especially with her step-father. Resenting him, she was upset with how he had changed her mother into a dutiful, obedient wife rather than the fun-loving woman she had been.

When she was a senior her family moved, and Rhiannon had to go to a new school. The Academy of Proper Discipline was her step-father’s idea. A private school he said would make her more like her mother. Rhiannon wasn’t sure what he meant by that but she didn’t like the sound of it.

On her first day, the teacher had given a pop quiz with some unusual questions on it. Not the math, science, English and history questions she was used to, these questions focused more on how she felt, especially when she had been bad. Questions like, do you like to be punished, and do you get excited when someone else exerts control over you?

As days passed, she found her fellow students were also sort of odd, especially the girls. They seemed to be docile, little things unconcerned with anything but pleasing their boyfriends or the male teachers, and there were no female teachers at the Academy. Now that is strange, very strange.

            Rhiannon had tried to answer honestly on that first day quiz, as her parents had taught her, but when she got the quiz back, a bold 'See the Headmaster' was written on it. Ashamed and upset, as she was certain she had failed the quiz and was in for some sort of discipline, she made her way to the Headmaster's office. Already I’m in trouble here, which never happened at my old school.

            "Rhiannon, have a seat, and may I say it is a pleasure to have you as a new student at the Academy. I'm dazzled that you did so well on our little opening day quiz."

So well, that certainly changes things, perhaps I’m here for a reward.

Headmaster Locke was a bearded man, dressed in a proper tuxedo suit with a bowler hat. As he took the hat off and hung it on his rack, she noticed he was bald too, but her mind was on her relief that she had not failed the quiz.

            "Thank you, Headmaster, I'm relieved, as I had not expected a good result when they sent me here." She smiled hesitantly, as she still did not understand why she had been summoned to his office. “If I did okay on the quiz, may I ask why I am here?”

            "Well, I like to go over the quiz with new students, especially ones that showed the remarkable proclivities you did. He waved his hand to a seat which she took, and then he closed the door behind her.

            Looking about his office, she thought everything looked normal enough save for this wooden frame with copious leather straps on it. Curious about what it was and why it was there she pointed to it and asked the Headmaster. "Whatever is that, sir?"

            The Headmaster laughed, but moving like a cat, he grabbed Rhiannon, one hand over her mouth, and the other around her torso. "Truthfully, girl, those are the tools I need to see if your answers on the quiz were real, or fakery." In moments his powerful hands had her stripped, gagged, and strapped over the wooden apparatus.

            Rhiannon tried to cry out for help, but the gag was far too effective for her to make any serious noise.

            "Soundproof walls, Miss, a feature I insisted upon in my office. Now we're going to test your mettle, and your libido, and find out if you’re suited for the Academy." He took down a thin whippy stick from a wall display, and smacked Rhiannon across her behind with it.

            Sheer waves of pure agony ripped through her body. Pain worse by far than any she had ever felt, and unfortunately for her, it kept coming. She screamed, cried, bucked and squirmed, but no one helped and it didn't seem like it would ever end.

            However when it did, Rhiannon felt strangely alive. Her nerve endings pulsing, she felt an unimagined new feeling. It’s like the feeling I get when I look at a cute boy, all gushy inside. Right now I feel like I would let any boy touch me, in the place I need to have touched.

            Shockingly, her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the Headmaster's fingers pushing into her exposed pussy. Ohhhh, don’t…no…feels so…oh, my god. Rhiannon's whole body felt amazingly sensuous, like she was alive to sensation for the first time.

            "Dripping wet, Miss, telling me your submissive answers were true. Now, let’s see if you come like a slut slave.” With no warning, Headmaster Locke let his fingers piston in Rhiannon’s soaking sheath. Feeling the waves of unadulterated pleasure rise inside her, she followed where they lead her to quivering and shaking climax.

“You seem to have been fueled by your caning, Miss. How wonderful you could discover your unique relationship with pain. Here at the Academy we will continue your exploration into the dark side of your sexual nature.” Headmaster stabbed the intercom on his desk. "Mrs. Peters, I have a very well-qualified new slave, for the dungeons, please have her transported."

            From her restrained position, Rhiannon saw a middle-aged brunette with a husky build walk into the Headmaster's office, and they both went to work releasing her from her bondage, but she quickly learned she was not free to go as her hands were cuffed behind her back, and a hobble chain was attached to her ankles.

“The Academy trademark, Headmaster, as usual with new flesh.” Mrs. Peters inquired of her boss seemingly unconcerned for Rhiannon’s condition.

“Well, certainly, the others will be expecting it. They do so love to greet a new student, and it shows a spirit of togetherness in the Academy.”

            Rhiannon sensed she was not going to enjoy Academy tradition, but she had no idea how much. Her blue eyes got big as saucers as Mrs. Peters fished a long chain out of a nearby box which had two mean-looking spring nipple clamps on each end.

Rhiannon tried to move away, but the headmaster grabbed her arms and held her tight, and his assistant snapped on her nipple chain to her tender, virgin breast buds. Her nipples were in agony, but Mrs. Peters was not yet done with her.

Moving to a little mini fridge hidden behind the headmaster’s desk, she took out a quart of fresh red strawberries, and then moved to the box again for a tiny, metal double hook.

Rhiannon noticed how the nipple chain was long, and it dangled just above her still moist pussy when Mrs. Peters slipped the hook into the lowest link of the chain, and then pierced a strawberry onto the dangling lower hook. Now Rhiannon had a delicious breast-pussy connection with a sweet juicy strawberry dangling just above her clit.

“Good work, Mrs. Peters, you’ll get a deep fucking later.” Mrs. Peters bowed her head and spoke quietly. “Thank you, Master, it is more than this slave deserves.”

Only now was Rhiannon getting a clear picture of what the Academy truly was; a training facility of female submissives to be made into sex slaves.

“Nonsense, slave, you’re very deserving, why else would I have asked the class of 99’s valedictorian to be my assistant?”

Mrs. Peters blushed, and pulled up her skirt to reveal no panties while opening up her blouse to reveal her braless tits. She said nothing more but Rhiannon noticed the headmaster began to play casually with her open cunt.

“It’s close to time, let’s move her along, and begin her greeting.”

Moving to the box once more, Mrs. Peters brought out a high leather collar which she fasten firmly about Rhiannon’s neck, forcing her to look upwards as she could no longer tilt her head down. Handing a chain leash to the headmaster, Mrs. Peters picked up the strawberries and walked along beside Rhiannon as the headmaster led her out of the office into the school hallway.

As the hallway was deserted, it being during classes, Rhiannon bounced back and forth between being happy to not be seen in this condition and being distressed there was no one to rescue her. Can this truly be happening to me? I’m collared, cuffed and nipple chained being led down the school hallway to sexual slavery.

Right then, the worst/best thing in the world happened, and as the school bell rang, Rhiannon felt conflicted about her feelings. Oh shit, they’ll all come pouring out of the classrooms and see me like this, but at least I’ll be rescued.  However, to her utter amazement, students simply acme out into the halls, male and female alike with the faculty, and they simply watched her, doing nothing. Can this be; no one notices a naked, cuffed and collared girl roaming the hallways?

            “Who wishes to be first to greet?” The headmaster asked the question like this happened every day, and a sweet redhead named Ginger, whom Rhiannon had met and formed a beginning friendship with, pushed out of the crowd and called out.

“Me please, Master, I will take first taste.”

“So be it.”

All Rhiannon saw was Ginger’s head disappearing from her view as the girl dropped to her knees, but she felt the rest, in a shockingly intimate way. First her thighs were pried apart, and then her breasts were pulled agonizingly downward as Ginger grabbed the strawberry with her mouth and mashed it into Rhiannon’s exposed clit. Pushing it all over Rhiannon’s slave cunt, Gingers made nothing but sweet pulp and juice out of the red fruit, which she began to lick up with her voracious tongue.

Once the strawberry was gone so also was the need for the hook, and so Ginger released it letting Rhiannon’s nipples free to pop back up to their naturally pert position. However Ginger was not finished, as she continued to attack Rhiannon’s strawberry flavored pussy, and engorged clit. Ginger lapped lustily at the offered orifice until the headmaster ordered a halt to her licking.

“Stop, Mrs. Peters another strawberry, now whose next.” Now the please to be next came hot and heavy as girl after girl knelt to first torture, and then worship Rhiannon’s intimate parts.

Oh, Jesus, they have it all planned out, first the horrible pain and then the sweet licking, but never enough to come before the next bout of torment. It’s diabolical, but I’m so wet and desirous of it. How can that be?  

Rhiannon lost track of how many times Mrs. Peters hooked a new strawberry over her needy pussy, but soon the headmaster removed her gag and she screamed out her need before then all.

“Please, somebody, make be come, I beg you.”

Suddenly the crowd around her parted, letting a naked sandy haired young man stride up to her. His cock was standing up proudly, a rigid pole of flesh that was far bigger than any male organ Rhiannon had ever seen. With no delay, he thrust his shaft into Rhiannon, fucking her with callous abandon just like she wanted.

            She heard the Headmaster's voice in her ear. "Welcome to the Academy, slave, where you will discover your true destiny.”