The Undercover

I have always had a fascination of Pauline Réage’s ‘The Story of O’ – and the film(-s) – and the Crepax Comic about it. In the following I have tried my hand in a sort of updated ‘fantasy’ over the same subject. I hope you will enjoy it – and excuse errors etc. as English is not my native tongue.
You are welcome to repost, but please have the courtesy to list me as the author.
August 2018.
o_girl1@hotmail. com

The Undercover

Chapter one
Catherine and the sensation
“I’ve got a scoop!” Cat burst into the editorial office, where The Editor-In-Chief: George Smith was sitting among mountains of clippings, papers and other seemingly disorderly piles.

Georg ‘lived’ in this cave of an office. All the other rooms at the magazine were well lit, clean, orderly and modern, but George preferred his old-fashioned, messy office.

Jokes were that the founders of the paper had acquired the furniture – about 100 years ago.

George liked paper. He left the Internet and the computers to his employees. He did have a very old, brownish coloured PC, but no one knew if it still worked. Usually it was hidden behind a wall of stacked paper.

Once in a while the staff in the editorial room outside his office made a bet - usually with a new apprentice or employee. To go into George’s ‘cave’ and ask him for a specific piece of information. George would always immediately pull the relevant piece of documentation from one of the piles – and the unfortunate person, who had betted that he could not – would have to pay up.

George Smith was 53, slightly overweight, and was called: ‘The Little Cannonball’ – although never in his presence. He was balding and had a white ‘circle’ of hair round the bald patch. It made him look like a satyr or Greek god.

He had been mastering the little, serious magazine for as long as anyone could remember. His walls were plastered with prizes won for ‘in-depth-journalism’ and ‘investigative reporting’. Other media kept his paper alive by subscribing in the hope of catching a good story, and run with it.
Something that happened quite often.

They often brought controversial features and were not afraid of anything. George was a common guest in the courtroom, when a company or person had taken offence to some of the magazines revelations.
One could count the number of times they had lost a case on one hand.
All their stories were well researched and more than double-checked.

They did have a ‘lower-limit’ to what they would do. They left the paparazzi and sensation-hunting journalism to more colourful media.
Their force was company- and personal fraud, political hanky-panky under the radar, police corruption and similar serious stories.

Catherine had been with the magazine for almost a year. She had been at the top of her class at ‘The Journalist College’ and it had been easy to get the job with George in front of a long queue of applicants.

She was ambitious, but had yet to find a story, that could make her by-line a household name.

She was petite – 1,62 cm in height on flat feet. She did have shape though. A slim waist, a pair of breasts a ‘b’ or small size ‘c’ and well-defined, relatively small, light red set of nips. A small fold – almost non-existing under her breasts underlined their slight heaviness and framed the bottom of the orbs nicely.

When she stretched out her ribs were showing. Not in a ‘to thin’ way, but enough to convince her, she did not have excess fat on her body. The swimming and her permanent position on a female Underwater Rugby Team also helped her fitness and stamina.

Her bum stuck out a little, and was – in her own opinion – somewhat too meaty, but at least the buttocks only had the slightest fold under them. Strong legs, thin, long fingers, Auburn hair, cut just above her neck, and curly enough to frame her small face with the slightly pointed nose, the dark, brown eyes and her pretty little mouth. When she smiled or frowned, two small lines appeared on each side of her mouth, like a discrete parenthesis. Her smile revealed a set of white, well proportioned and well placed teeth.

Right now she was in a state of agitation! Notepad and pencil in her right hand and eyes wide.

George looked up and nodded at her to sit in the chair across from his desk.
A very deep sigh emanated from far down inside him as he said:
“Well. What world sensation have you sniffed out today?"

He had an excited reporter in the chair at least once a day, but rarely did it result in anything other than the reporter sliding out the door, red-faced and subdued after a short, though cross-examination by George.

Cat dumped into the chair:
“Well. You might know my boyfriend: John?”
Without waiting for a reply, she continued, now that she had the ‘Master of the Universe’ to herself:
”He has discovered this weird bondage society!”

George sighed again:
“That’s not a story. There are so many of those so-called clubs. “The Black Society” to mention one of many!”

“…but…but…this is different. The other clubs and societies are just where people now and then play and outlive their dreams – with consent. This is supposed to be more than that!”
“Ok. How does this group differ from the rest – enough to make it the target of a story by us?”
“This is supposedly like ‘The Story of O”, which I assume you are familiar with?”
“Yes, quite!” He grunted.

She continued: “ These people hold women as slaves. This is serious. The women apparently volunteer into a kind of ‘O’ slavery, where they relinquish all rights, and leave their body and souls to the men – to use at their pleasure – and the men are all from the absolute better part of society.”

“Now you are getting me interested. Do you know more?”
“I know that they are very particular to go under the radar. Understandably enough as it would probably be the cause of much scandal, should their society and ways find its way to the greater public as such. Even though these are tolerant times, I am not sure such ‘perversions’ will be looked at positively if exposed.”

“Maybe you have something there, but if they are so secretive, how do you plan to expose them?”
“Well…..John has this contact who has told him about it. He will be able to get me in under cover.”
“Hmmmm…don’t know about that. You’d be at risk in many ways.”
“Not really. I’ll apply for membership through John, will go there as a ‘prospect’, play the part, identify some of the interesting members and get out before it becomes serious. Then I’ll confront the people I have identified in some in-depth interviews.”

“You think this will work?”
“John will introduce me as his partner, and tell them that we have been dabbling with BDSM a little, so I have some experience. Of course it will all be pretence on my part, but they will not know that – will they now?”
“I suppose not!” George looked his usual: something between a sad bulldog and a very tired monk.

“I can always ‘confess’ in which case they will probably throw me out faster than lightning. Besides John has promised to be around as an extra security measure. I can always get him to help me, if I end up in some kind of trouble.”
“I suppose it is worth giving a try – but don’t come whining to me if it turns out to be either nothing – or too much for you. What do you need?”

“I need two months leave. It will probably be too long, but I’ll need to do the background research, the interviews and write my notes into something worth reading after having spend some time there.”

“Two months sounds like an awful lot of time, but since this is the spring period, and before you get your little experiment started, we will probably be into the slow summer season, and things slow down. I suppose we can do without you for a period – even that long. I need you to tell me – preferably in good time – before you start your absence – and I need you to report back to me, as much as you can. I want to have the right to stop this ‘experiment’ of yours if I think it has gone too far, or if I feel that there’s no story in it. Agree?”

“Yes, Yes. Thank you, Thank you!” She rushed out of the office. This could be her great chance. She had to phone John right away.
--
One of the secretaries needed her immediate attention, when she emerged from the office. It was a good thing, because as soon as she had left, George had found the only piece of modern electronics, he used regularly: His Phone. Pressed a number, and was answered with:
“John here!”
“George. She has taken the bait: hook, line and sinker! She has just been in here and – in a very enthusiastic way – explained that she would like to be our under cover girl at ‘The Society’.
She can hardly wait to go for her training, and I’ll expect you will hear from her very soon.”

“How long do we have?”
“She has an open permission for two months leave, but as I am her boss that could be prolonged. We will need to have her prepared before she goes on leave!” He chuckled.

“Fine. I’ll make arrangements for her preparation immediately – and 2 months at ‘The Society’ should be amble time. I have seen more feisty women than her becoming meek and obedient in less time.”

“The irony is that she thinks she is under cover, and please let her stay in that belief for as long as possible. That way she will volunteer to anything. The minute she realizes that this is not a game, and we have known of her ploy all along, things might get difficult.”
“No problem. The moment, she finds out the truth, she will be well trained, and happy with her new life – I’m sure!”
“If you say so. You’re the one with the experience, it is not the first woman you have brought to the ‘school’, and I must say you have a success-rate of almost a 100%”
“Indeed. I’ll keep you posted.”
With a big smile he pressed the ‘end call’ button and sat back in his chair with his eyes half closed.

‘This should be fun’, he thought. ‘I’d really like to see her enslaved.’

Chapter two
Preparation
After getting rid of the secretary, Cat went to the backstairs. Here the smokers usually convened, but she was lucky. There was nobody there.

She called John and told him all about her meeting with George. She was so excited, that the words almost tripped over one another.

“Hey. Hey. Stop. Stop. Are you quite sure, you want to do this?”
“Yes! Quite certain. It will be a great experience, and a great story. How much is this place like Roissy in ‘The Story of O’? Will I be whipped? Fucked? Tormented? Forced? When can I meet your contact”, she went on in an agitated voice.
“Stop. Stop. Again. I don’t know a whole lot about it, but I’ll arrange for you to meet my contact. His name is Peter, and I’ll see if I can arrange a meeting as soon as possible.”
“Good. Rather today than tomorrow!”
“You will have to meet him under all circumstances. He needs to see you and talk to you, and you will have amble opportunity to ask all the questions you like.”

She calmed herself: “Ok. Make the arrangements – but soon, please!”
“Will do. I’ll call him right away and get back to you with a place and a time. Bye now!”

She put the phone down, took a deep breath and went back to the editing floor.

She did not have to wait long. About an hour later John called, and confirmed they had a date with his contact – the same evening and in a restaurant in the centre of the city.

He explained that he had told his contact, they had a ‘Master/slave’ relationship, and that she was not unfamiliar with the world of BDSM. He also explained, that she had to stay ‘in character’ as the contact believed she was venturing into this in earnest – and not as a ‘under cover agent’. He also told her to dress plainly and discrete – and not to use too much makeup. The best impression, she could give was not to be ‘too flamboyant’ as he put it.
--
John picked her up, and together they walked the short distance to the restaurant. They were ushered to a table at the back with separating, low walls to the tables on the sides. A man was waiting for them, and got up as they approached.

“Hello. I’m Peter. Nice to meet you.” He held her hand just a little too long for comfort as he fixed his eyes on hers.
“You must be Catherine. I see that John’s description of you does not give you any justice.”
‘Flattery will get you nowhere’, she thought as she smiled to herself, and let him hold the chair as she sat down.

Peter was about 50’ish. Lean and in a charcoal-grey suit, that clearly had not come off a hanger in your everyday shop. He had a full head of grey hair, long nose, and penetrating blue eyes.

The waiter supplied them with menus, and the next ten minutes was spent ordering food.

When the waiter vanished with the menus and their orders, Peter looked up at her.
“John tells me, you would like to try our little club? What has he told you about us?”

Since it was hardly anything, it was quickly done.

“You will need to go through some preparations before coming to visit us.”
“A..hem…what preparations do you have in mind?”
“Well. You will need to get rid of your body hair to start with”.
Surprised she looked over at John, who gave her an almost invisible nod with his head.
“Okay...” She slowly answered.
“John has been kind enough to give me your mail address, so I will book you for an appointment at a Beauty Parlour, we normally use. The appointment will appear in your calendar within the next 24-hours. I trust this will be fine with you?”
Again her eyes sought John’s, and again he gave her the invisible nod.
“Quite. May I ask what it entails to go there?”
“Of course, my dear. You will be submitted to a series of laser treatments, which will make you all smooth and hairless – for a time. I’m told it is almost quite painless – but somewhat unpleasant I’m afraid.”
“Ok. What body hair are we referring to here?”
“As far as I know it is under your arms, in you crotch and then surplus hair on other parts of your body. You will have to have about 5 treatments, give or take a few, as the hair starts growing from new places as soon as the old ones are removed.”

A blatant lie. The laser would permanently kill the follicles, but no reason to alarm her at this stage. She would be quite happy with her hairlessness, when she eventually found out it was permanent. Hopefully at a point, where she would be a fully trained slave.

Much later she would blame herself for not having looked laser treatment up on the net, but believed what she was told: That the removal was temporary. She had been unusually gullible for an investigative journalist!

She blushed, and after a short pause where John once again signalled to her to agree, she said:
“OK. I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll do it.”
“Good”, he said. “Then there’s just on more thing!”
“Yes….”, She looked like she was beginning to have second thoughts about it all.
“You need to have a ‘Journal’ with us, so for the last session in the Beauty Parlour, you will be measured and photographed.”

She did not know what to say to this, so there was an uncomfortable silence.

Peter continued: “It’s nothing dangerous. We will need your looks and measurements to be able to select proper clothes for you.”
“Ah. I suppose you use clothing much like in ‘The Story of O’?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Then it is ok with me.”

This conversation had taken place on and off while the dishes were served and consumed. Now they were at the dessert.

“Tell me, Peter. Where is this club and what will you do to me there?”
“I think it is best for you to find out for yourself. I’m sure you will like our facilities and our treatment of you. John has told me, that you need him to be close to feel safe. I will of course see to that.”
She thought he had avoided answering that in a clever way, and did not like to keep asking without displaying second thoughts.

So she accepted in silence.

Peter rose, and told them he had another obligation, and that they were free to enjoy their dessert, have coffee and whatever they liked afterwards – the bill had been paid.

Again he held her hand a little longer than she felt necessary, and locked his eyes with hers.
“I’m very happy that you have decided to join us, Catherine, and I look forward to meeting you again soon.”
He left.

As soon as he was out of earshot, she leaned over the table:
“What was that all about? Hair removal? Pictures? Measurements? And not telling me where the place is located or what exactly goes on there?”
John smiled: “I am as informed as you are. I’ve never been to this place, but Peter has promised he will take me soon. Then I’ll know where it is. I will make certain, I’m there with you. As for the other things, you will have to do it to get in. Apparently it is a preparation, they put all their girls through. Sounds like it, does it not?”
“Hm. Yes. I suppose it will not do me any permanent damage to go through with the hair-thing and the measurements and photos, and as for the location, don’t worry. I’ll figure out where it is as soon as I’m going there. They will have to give me an address or – if I am picked up – I’ll study the route there. Probably no problem, I’m sure.”
“So we will both figure it out,” He said with a big smile.

Knowing that she would not have any idea as to the location of the place – only that it was about one hour drive from the city.

--
When she got home, her calendar already held the 5 dates for the Beauty Parlour – and the address.
The first session to take place the next morning. They certainly did not waist any time. On the other hand, she thought, she would have done it exactly the same way. Not leaving much time to reflect on her the decision.
--
She was at the ‘Beauty Parlour’ in good time for her first session. She had told George she needed to do some research for her story, and he had given her the day off.

It was located in a side street in the centre of the city. A street not unlike the one, she lived on: Small designer shops, smart Café’s and other trendy businesses.

The front looked elegant and clean. Inside there was a small room with some chairs, and a desk behind which a very young, female receptionist with too much makeup, too much perfume and very long, very red nails resided.
She gave her name, and was asked to sit and wait.

She browsed through one of the glossy fashion magazines lying on the low table in front of her. She did not really register any of the contents but it gave her a chance to pretend to be occupying herself as she waited.

A woman in a white, clinical looking coat appeared from the door: “Catherine. I presume. Welcome. Please follow me.”

The woman did not wear any makeup and had short, plain nails. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail.

Cat got up and followed the woman. Behind the door was a long, neutral hallway with several more doors on each side. She was taken to the door furthest down the hall and escorted in.

It was a small room. Much like her doctors examining room. No windows, three of the walls covered with white desks and cupboards with glass fronts on all of them. Along the last wall there were a number of chairs without armrests parked.

In the middle was a white table. It was supported by a shiny steel rod frame, and with small, lockable wheels.
She did not like the two, padded ‘U’-shaped holders just sticking up at the end of the table. They were close together, and the bottoms of them were at level with the surface.

“I’m Susanne – by the way. I’ll be in charge of your session today. You can undress here and put your clothes on one of the chairs. Here’s a towel you can wrap around. We will be with you shortly.”

Cat thanked her as she went out of the room. Undressed and folded her clothes on the chair, then wound the very large, white, soft towel around her body and sat down.

It did not take long, before Susanne was back. This time followed by three other women – all similar white coats.

“So! Are you ready, Catherine?”
She answered in a low voice, feeling her heart hammering in her chest.
“Have you tried this before?”
She shook her head.

“Well. Laser treatment is not painful, but you will feel some discomfort, when the laser is activated. It gives a quick snap. Like being swapped with an elastic band. We will be as careful and gentle as we can. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, please let us now. We will stop while you pull yourself together before proceeding. It is important that you are absolutely still. Sometimes the muscles and nerves might contract involuntarily, so we will have to make sure you don’t move. The laser can damage the skin if not used properly and with precision. Do you understand and do you have any questions?”
“I think I got it.”
“Good. Then jump up and we will get started.” She patted the white surface with the palm of her hand.

The girls helped her sit on the shiny surface. It felt cold on her skin. They pushed her gently down, and lifted her knees into the ‘U’-shaped holders. A headrest was adjusted, so she had a round, padded holder on each side of her head. She looked up, and saw herself in a full sized mirror covering most of the ceiling above her.

A leather belt went over her stomach – not uncomfortable, but tight enough to keep her from moving. Two more – but much thinner - went over and under her breasts.

Two girls took her wrists and slowly moved them over her head. In the mirror she could see the leather strap used to hold her wrists together, but not the strap underneath – connecting her to a bar on the frame of the thing. She did feel it being tightened, so her arms were firmly on the surface, and her armpits fully exposed.

“Are you still comfortable, my dear?”
She was no such thing, but answered affirmative anyway.

Straps went over her ankles and held them to the posts supporting the ‘U’s. She heard a metallic sound as the two ‘U’-shaped things were released. Then they were pushed up and out, spreading her knees and legs wide apart. She gasped loudly, and looked again at herself in the ceiling mirror. She had never felt so helpless in her life. Unable to move and totally open. The lower part of her torso just lifted up from the surface. Another loud sound as the holders locked in place.

First they shaved her crotch and armpits. Not with a scraper, but with electric razors, that left very short stubble. In the ceiling mirror it reminded her of the ‘five-o-‘clock-shadow’ on a man’s face.

The women put on space age looking black glasses with a light source on both side – pointing forward. Then they started with the lasers. They had told her under no circumstance to look at the lasers, as it could damage her eyes.

Applying an ointment on small portions of her skin at a time, they stuck the laser apparatus in the ointment, pressed the button, and she felt just as they had told her: like being ‘snapped’ with an elastic band. She tried closing her eyes and relaxing, but kept opening them – and as her head was locked between her arms and in the headrest, she had nowhere else to look than up at herself in the mirror above.
--
Someone else was watching with interest. Unknown to her, a webcam was hidden behind the mirror in the ceiling, and at the place where her training was to be, she was displayed on a large monitor.
The operator zooming in and out, and letting the camera scan her body.
John and 3 other men were present behind the operator.

“Looks fine,” one of them said.
“Petite, but exquisite”, another one replied.
“You told us, you have had ordinary sex, and she has given head from time to time. Have you ever used her anus?”
“No – never. We never got round to that. I have had tied her loosely, but only exposed her to the lightest form of pain, and always in connection with having sex.”
“Well. We will probably have to expand her anus for comfort, and as for the pain. Well – it’s part of the deal.”

“You say that she will be here under false pretence?”
“Yes. Initially. She thinks she is undercover for her magazine to do a revealing story about us, and while she thinks that, she will do, as we want her to. I assume that she will start appealing to me to get her out at one point or rather, but I will just make myself scares, when that moment comes. Until then, I will pretend to be on her side, and comfort her, and edge her along as best I can. The usual procedure.”

“Good. May I congratulate you on another fine candidate!”
They all lifted their glasses, clinked and drank.”
--
Meanwhile at the Parlour, the women were busy. She felt the four of them ‘snapping’ in quick succession. They stopped once in a while to ask if she was still ok, to which she answered positively.

She looked at herself in the ceiling all the time, and wondered why she felt slightly aroused. She hoped the women did not notice that she was becoming moist between her legs. On the other hand it would be hard not to, as they at one point held her outer labia and pulled them aside to get at all the hair.

She had never had a big bush. More like a two-inch line from a little below her navel and down round her opening. Now she watched as the laser gradually worked over this hair – inch by inch.

It was the same feeling under her arms, but the tender, red skin around her nipples hurt quite a lot as the few hair growing there was hit by the laser. It also hurt when they spread her buttocks and removed the few stray hair growing around her back opening.

It took almost three hours. After they had gone over the front of her body in meticulous detail, they released her, turned her over on her stomach, put soft pillows under her waist and head – and redid the straps. Then they went over her backside with equal care.

In the end she was given a full body massage by one of the women, and rubbed with cocoa-smelling oil. They declared that she was done. She got dressed, and left.
--
She hurried home, and could hardly wait to undress and study and feel herself in front of her bathroom mirror. She felt like she had a sunburn, and the stubble felt prickly. The hair – or rather stubble - was still there.

A few days later, she discovered small hair all over her underwear. She began to itch, as her knickers were full of little hair all the time. She tried bringing extra knickers to work, and clean herself in the office toilet with disinfecting wipes, but it just seemed to release more hair – and cause more itching.

After about a week, almost all the treated hair had fallen out – and she felt smooth when she stroked her skin.
She stayed away from John during this period. Using all sorts of excuses not to meet, when they talked on the phone.
--
Eventually – as the soreness had gone – and the hair - she met up with John one evening. She did not volunteer anything about her visit to the Beauty Parlour, and he did not mention it during their Café meal.

Half way through, she moved her right arm under the table, and gave slight ‘mmm’-like sounds as she moved her arm. Obviously she was stroking herself on the outside of her trousers. At the same time she looked at him with a smile in her eyes….

After a number of these ‘provocations’, he finally got round to asking her how it had been at the ‘Clinic’, as he called it.
She answered that it had gone well – without elaborating further.

Then she said: “Do you think you will like my new look?”
“I’m sure. Why don’t we finish here quickly, and then you can show me.”
--
When they got to her home, he dumped into her most comfortable chair, and said: “Now. Show me. Stand before me and strip.”

Slowly she removed her clothes, smiling at him, as she saw the increasing lust in his eyes.
When she pulled the last item off and threw it to aside, he said: “ Stand straight. Hands on your back – spread your legs!”

He got up, but instead of coming over to her, he went to the kitchen and rummaged around for a while, leaving her standing naked in the middle of the floor.

When he came back, he had taken her clothesline, cut it into several pieces, and had it lying on top on one of her dishwashing towels in his hands.

Behind her he wound a piece of the line round her crossed wrists on her back. First horizontally, then vertically and finally cinching it by running it between her wrists and tightening with a knot.

It was not uncomfortable, but tight enough for her not to wriggle out of. She tried moving her wrists as he stepped back behind her and admired his work. The end of the rope was hanging down between her legs.

“Very nice. Now open your mouth!”
From behind he swung the towel round her head, and she saw he had made a tight knot in the middle. Gently he pushed the knot-side into her mouth, filling her up, and making her bite in it as he tightened it on the back of her head.
He whispered in her ear: “Now. That’s better. I like it when you don’t babble on all the time, you know.”
In front of her again he stuck his hand between her legs, grabbed the end of the rope dangling down from her wrists, and pulled it up into her slit, making sure it was between her inner labia, and touching her clit.

He pulled the rope up and made her get up on her toes as she gave a small gasp behind the towel-gag.
“Now come here!”

Keeping her on her toes he dragged her to the bedroom. Here he put an arm behind her shoulders and another under her knees, lifting her up and placing her in the middle on the bed on her back.

Her bed was a double-sized thing with a short post in each corner. He spread her open by tying her ankles to the two posts at the end. Then stood and looked for a while.
She was lying on her bound wrists, which made her hips arch upwards.

He undressed in front of her, and slowly, very slowly worked his way from the end of the bed up to her crotch.
On the way his fingers, mouth and tongue caressed, kissed, nibbled and teased every possible spot on her legs.
When he reached her opening, she was very, very wet.

She was quite aware that she could not move or avoid his caresses in any way. Her helplessness was a strange and arousing feeling. The rope cut into her wrists and ankles as she wriggled with increasing ecstasy.

He used his hands to open her even further, and slit his tongue from the bottom of her opening to her clit in one long, slow movement. He nibbled at her naked outer labia, sucked the inner ones into his mouth and bit softly in her clit. She arched her back and tried turning and twisting as a hot fire began spreading from her crotch to the rest of her body.

When his hands went up and grabbed each of her tits with a thumb and forefinger, she jumped in the restraints.
As she tried screaming under the gag, his fingers rolled her nipples, pressed soft, then hard, then soft again, while her clit was sucked into his mouth. His teeth gently locking around it and his tongue pushing it in and out over the hard edges.

It did not take very long for her to come. She shook violently in her restraints and made very loud sounds of ecstasy under the gag.

It was one of the best – and longest – orgasms, she had had for ages. Maybe because he just continued after she had come the first time, making her come even higher a second time – and then again. In the end she was having one long, rolling orgasm after the other.

When he finally withdrew his mouth and hands – only to crawl up her body slowly and pushing his stiff manhood all the way into her, he made her come once again – this time she flew higher than she had ever done.

He lay still on top of her as they both regained their breaths and got their heartbeat under control, then he released her and dumped down on the bed beside her.

She put a leg over his body, and arm over his chest and kissed his ear – panting.
“Thank you, Thank you. I was wonderful!”
“Good. I think I like your new hairdo!” He said with a big smile.
--
Over the next period, she went for the additional treatments. The next session was shorter. They only used about an hour with the lasers – as opposed to the three hours at her first appointment. She had not noticed any hair growth in the weeks that had passed since the first treatment, and they did not shave her, but she still heard and felt the sound of the lasers as the hair that was overlooked in the first session was treated.
After each time they gave her a small plastic bottle with an ointment to rub into the parts of her body, where major laser removal had been done.

After the first session she was more at ease. She never relaxed totally though. Looking at herself in the ceiling mirror with her legs spread in the ‘U’s was more than uncomfortable – as was the small stings of light pain every time the laser was applied.
--
She had wonderful sex with John again and again.

The clothesline and towel was used every time, tying her into different but restraining positions. The slight soreness of the laser wore off quickly after each session, but she still felt more sensitive in the places where she used to have hair. Something John also seemed to sense, since he gave those parts of her body a lot of attention. It was a new – and very, very exciting - feeling to have his curly, pubes hair rub against her smooth crotch when he was inside her, or his mouth and tongue caressing her armpits. She also felt it made her look better, be more attractive and she was actually proud of the change.
--
The fifth and last treatment was very brief. When she got off the table, Susanne declared that they had finished.

She was asked to stand in the middle of the room. The wheels of the table were unlocked and it was pushed aside.

One woman sat with a pen and a clipboard, while two others used measuring tapes all over her body.
“Wrists xx cm”, “Waist xx cm”, Instep xx cm”, “Neck xx cm” and so on – all the measurements, she could imagine – and then some - were noted on the clipboard.

After that she was taken across the hallway to the room opposite – just wearing the large towel. Here a small redhead greeted her and introduced herself as: “Katie. The photographer”.

The room was double the size of the first room she came from.

At the end wall was a metal scaffold holding a wide roll of greyish paper up just under the ceiling. The paper had been rolled down and lay in a soft curve on the floor.

Opposite was a tripod with a large-format camera. On each side there was a solid, black metal construction with a large flash and an umbrella reflector at the top. On the bottom of each stood a square box with a green, blinking light and some contacts and levers on the upper side. Over the middle of the grey paper was another black steel beam with more – but minor flashes and lamps.

Katie turned on one of the lamps directly above. It projected two small crosshairs of light on the floor.
She said: “Go stand on the paper and face the camera. Put your feet on the marks as precise as you can. No, no – you don’t need the towel.”

She took the towel as Catherine walked on the paper and stood facing the camera with one arm over her breasts.
Standing with her feet on the crosses made her legs part quite a bit.

“Put your hands down your side. Palms inward. Straighten your back, and look into the camera.”
A number of buzzing sounds, then a blinding flash, then more buzzing sounds, the lights on the boxes at the foot of the flash posts changing from red to green – then another blinding flash – and so on for a few minutes.
--
What she did not know was that in the flash posts were a number of small, hidden webcams. Wirelessly connected to the room next door. Here Susanne was using a large monitor with the screen split into many pictures. By the keyboard and mouse, she could adjust each of the cameras in the posts. When she was satisfied, she pressed a small button next to her on the table.

This created a signal ‘beep’ in the next room, but no one – especially not Catherine – could distinguish this sound from the many ‘beeps’ originating from the flashes and camera in the room. Katie however was very much aware of it, as it was the signal for her that the secret closeups had been taken and that she could take the main picture.

The close-ups of Catherine’s profile, breasts, hands and feet were duly stored on Susanne’s computer.

Katie asked Catherine to turn so that her side was towards the camera – on another crosshair projected to the ground. This time just one, but a larger one, produced by another overhead lamp. The whole procedure was repeated. In the room next door, Susanne took close-ups of the back of her head and neck, her shoulder blades, her buttocks and the back of her feet.

Next pose was with her back to the camera – same procedure again and Susanne in the adjoining room recorded the details of her body seen from this angle.

Finally the other profile, and Susanne recorded the front of her face, her breasts, stomach, and the point where her legs met her torso, her hands and feet.

Katie ended the session by doing a number of close-ups of her face with a hand held camera. Making her smile, frown; purse her lips and in general instructing her to ‘make faces’.

Finally Katie praised her, and stating that she was very ‘photogenic’.

She had spots dancing before her eyes, when she was led back to the first room, got dressed and was helped out of the place.
--
That same evening – alone in her flat - she felt quite insecure. Now they almost knew more about her body, than she did herself.

She had no idea to whom the pics and measurements would be handed, but when she phoned John and aired this concern, he calmed her by saying that it was – as he had already stated – in order for the right clothes to be found.
He did not tell her, that back at ‘The Society’, a ‘Model Folder’ had been created with all her data. Several, separate parts of the folder’s content had been copied, and people were busy selecting and ordering the equipment, they would need to control and enslave her.
--
“So – what happens now?” She said.

They were lying in her bed after lovemaking.
“Well. You have gone through all the preparations – so I suppose you are ready to go now. I will contact Peter, and he will make the necessary arrangements. That is if you are still determined to go on with this?”
“Of course”, she answered. “Why go through all this trouble for nothing?”

“OK then. Just on more thing!”
“Yes?”
“When you get to the place, and now and then meet me – you must never let out that you are under cover, and that it is something, we have arranged. I will treat you, as my submissive – like the other submissives at the place, and you will behave like them – is that understood? I do not want to jeopardize our little setup there!”
“Ok. Of course, of course. I’ll be you willing little slave-girl.” She jumped on his stomach kissed him as her naked, wet opening slid up and down his member.
‘You do not know how true that is, my dear’, he though as he slid into her for probably the last ‘normal’ lovemaking they would ever have.

Afterwards she asked him if he had been to the place as he had promised, he answered that he had not done so yet, but he would go there before she did – ‘to check the place out’, as he said.

The next day he called and gave her a pickup date, time and place. Almost a week later – and in the afternoon. John did not know a lot about it except that she would be picked up at the arranged time.
He also told her, that they had better avoid each other in the coming week, and that he was going to be there in connection with her visit.

She felt reassured and calmed herself. John would know where they took her, and she would study the route there – so they had everything working for them. She was now certain that she would only stay there for as long as it took her to identify a suitable number of ‘targets’, she could confront and interview later.
Then she would get John to get her out of the place – to follow up and eventually write the story.

She called George and arranged for her two months ‘leave’ to start on the day she was to be picked up.
As the day grew nearer, she found it harder and harder to sleep. She re-read ‘The Story of O” a number of times, saw a couple of the films made over it, and generally tried to think things over.

The last evening and night she was so excited, she hardly slept. She felt like she was on the way to an adventure – which she of course was – just not the adventure, she would ever have imagined - even in her wildest fantasies.

Chapter three
Admission
She spend the morning bathing and checking herself. She walked restless round the apartment, waiting for the time she was to be picked up. She was wearing her most plain clothes. A silk blouse, a medium length and a dark blue skirt. Her best laced knickers and bra. No stockings, but sensible black shoes with flat heels on her feet. A small, black handbag held her necessities.

The pickup place was at the nearest corner from her apartment She was there very much ahead of time, and stepped back and forth, looking up and down the street.
Her heart beat a little faster, and her breathing was slightly agitated. This was it!

A black Mercedes came up the street, stopped where she stood and a young man with a white shirt and black trousers jumped out.
“Miss Catherine?”
She confirmed and he opened the rear door for her to get in.
“Thank you. This is elegant, very elegant!”
He did not reply, but closed the door after her.

Inside there was plenty of room, and she sank back into the soft leather upholstery.

There was a glass wall between her and the driver. Not just a glass wall, but a matte glass wall. She could not see the driver. Looking round she saw that all the other windows were the same – very dark toned. She could not look out! She tried the automatic window-opener, but it did not work. She still felt at ease. Tried to call out to the driver, but got no answer. She tested the door - just for the heck of it - but that too was locked.

Now a slight sweat developed on her forehead. She was being driven somewhere, and had absolutely no idea where. This was not the plan. She went over things in her mind. All she had right now was the e-mail address that had been used to do the bookings at ‘The Beauty Parlour’. ‘Thesociety183@hotmail.com’, and that was not a whole lot to go by. She certainly hoped John would be there as promised, and that he had had better luck in finding some facts.

She settled back in the seat, and got her heart and breathing under control. Thought of how it would be, soon to be in the ‘O-dress’? Would she feel aroused by having her breasts exposed and put on display like that? How would it be to be walking around in a dress where there was an open slit back and front?

According to the late afternoon sun that she could follow through the windows, they were changing directions quite often. She was probably taken for a longer ride on the smaller roads out of town, instead of driving directly on the motorway to the place.

After about two hours the car drove into a garage. She sensed it by the changing sound, and the way the car slowly bumped over something.

It stopped, and the driver got out and left her there in the sudden and absolute silence.

She jumped in the seat, when the door opened and Peter stuck his head inside: “Hello, Miss Catherine. Welcome to ‘The Society’ please step out.”
He assisted her by holding her elbow gently. They were indeed in a large garage.

Next to Peter stood the driver.
Peter said: “Please turn around and place your hands on your back.”
She did so, but as soon as her hands were on her back, the click, click, clicking sound of a set of handcuffs locked them together.
“Please don’t be alarmed.” Peter said in a low voice. “We can’t be too careful, you know!”
He did not offer any reason for this carefulness, but produced what looked like a black bag.
“I will put will this over you head. Just another security measure. Please don’t be nervous. We will just take you upstairs.”

She could hardly protest as the bag slid over her head while he was talking. She felt him tighten the string on the bottom of the bag round her neck.

They each held her by her upper arms, supporting her and helping her along.

She heard Peter’s voice constantly giving small alerts, like: “Watch out. Step up.” and “Stairs ending”. A few times she stumbled, but they supported her well. She felt strangely secure in their hands – even though she now did not have the slightest clue to where she was or where she was being taking.

Finally she heard a door lock behind them, and she was nudged into a chair.

The hood came off.

“That went well. Good girl! Wait here, then we will attend to you shortly….and welcome again, by the way.”
Both of them smiled reassuringly, turned and went of out the door. She heard the distinct click as it locked.

She looked round. A small room with no windows, nothing on the walls, two chairs and a desk between them.
The walls were a nondescript beige or tan colour.
She sat for a long while. Tried to pull a little at the cuffs, but stayed in her chair.

Finally the door went click again, and Peter came in.
“Hello again. Let me relieve you of those cuffs.”
He pushed her gently forward, unlocked and removed the cuffs.

She managed a small ‘Hello’ as he dumped into the chair opposite her.

He let a small manila binder fall on the desk. Opened it, and said:
“Here’s some paperwork. I will ask you to read it through carefully, and sign. I will leave you to it. I’ll come back and answer any questions you may have!”

He rose and again left her, with the distinct ‘click’ of the door locking.

She opened the file and started reading the first document.


LETTER OF CONSENT
I Catherine xxxx (and then some personal data) hereby give myself to ‘The Society’. I am healthy and sane, and have no previous history of psychic illnesses or disorders.
I have signed the enclosed contract of my own free will, and without any form of pressure.
I understand that this contract – when signed by me – cannot be revoked by me, but only by a member of ‘The Society’.


She signed and took the next document


CONTRACT
I Catherine xxx promise – to the best of my abilities to abide by the following rules:

- I enter ‘The Society xxx’ with the sincere intentions of becoming a good and well-behaved slave.

- I relinquish any right to my body and mind – and promise to the best of my abilities to satisfy ANY demand ‘The Society’, Its members, associated members, servants and other persons appointed by ‘The Society’ may have on me.

- There are no boundaries of place, time, or situation in which I may wilfully refuse to obey the directive of any member of ‘The Society’. Should I do so, I understand that I will be duly punished, and the necessary force to make me comply will be used.

- Upon signing this contract, my body belongs to ‘The Society’, to be used as seen fit. All my possessions likewise belong to ‘The Society’, including all assets, finances, and material goods. I agree to please the members of ‘The Society’ to the best of my ability, in that I now exist solely for the pleasure of said members.

- My mouth is for expressing pleasure and pain. I will therefore only speak, when addressed, and my main conversation will be ‘Yes, Sir’, ‘Yes, Master’, ‘No Master’, ‘Yes, Mistress’ and ‘No Mistress’.

- I will always keep my lips slightly parted in the company of any of the above persons. This is to clearly indicate that I am open and available for their pleasure.

- I will always secure open and fast access to my genitals. As a symbol of this, I will never cross my legs, and will at all times keep them slightly apart, indicating that I am available.

- My anus is for pleasure. I will accept anything ‘The Society’ sees fit for this part of my body.

- My nipples and breasts will be available at any time for ‘The Society’s pleasure. I will never cross my hands in front of my chest, hide my breasts, or in any other way block the free access to them.

- I will never touch my vagina, anus, breasts or nipples in the company of members of ‘The Society’ – except when specifically ordered to do so.

- I will wear the clothes ‘The Society’ provides, and follow their directions should I be allowed to buy clothes for myself.

- I accept any punishment ‘The Society’ sees fit to administer should I break any of the above rules.

- I accept any kind of body modifications that ‘The Society’ considers relevant in order to make me a better, more accessible and usable slave.

- My life is from now on dedicated to being a slave to ‘The Society’, which will have all rights to my person, and will be able to speak fully on my behalf.

- At some point, I might be allocated to one or more Masters or Mistress. In that case, I will faithfully obey, comply and do my utmost to satisfy this/theser Master/-s and/or Mistress’es.

- I Catherine xxx have read and fully understand this contract in its entirety. I agree to give everything I own to ‘The Society’, and further accept their claim of ownership over my physical body. I understand that I will be addressed, trained and punished as a slave, and I promise to be true and to fulfil the pleasures and desires of members of ‘The Society’ to the best of my abilities. I understand that I cannot withdraw from this contract. It can only be revoked by a dominant member of ‘The Society’.


It was quite a mouthful. She had to read it a few times. Did they really mean it like this? On one hand it followed ‘The Story of O’, so she had somewhat anticipated something like this, but as it was now getting down to the raw facts, she was in doubt if she should sign, but ended up doing so, in the faith that John would save her from abuse, and that her stay would not be that long. At least so short that the paragraph regarding ‘body modifications’ would not come into play.
--
Finally there were a number of blank documents, and an instruction for her to write her signature at the bottom.

She felt a chill down her spine! This was given them open documents with her signature. They could write anything in the blank space, and have a few of the members witness it, as she noticed already had been done on the first two documents.

She swallowed a few times, opened and closed her eyes – and signed the documents…
--
Shortly after Peter came back. This time accompanied by two women.

Her eyes widened as she saw them. They were complete ‘Story of O’ copies: Bare breasts. Lifted and parted by the dress and only framed with a pretty lace, and she could just see the long slit in their dresses, when they moved. They also had obvious shiny red makeup on their breast.
The two girls positioned themselves along the wall.

“Ah. I see you have signed everything. I trust all is in order, and that you have no questions?”
She had a million questions, but for now, she would act as a good little submissive. So she answered no.

“Well – let’s get you started then. Yvonne and Jeanett will prepare you. I look forward to seeing you later!”
“Thank you, Sir”, she answered. Which caused him and the girls to smile slightly.

The girls each took one of her hands, and with Peter in front they exited the room. The walk was not very far. There were no windows in the hallway they walked along, but it looked a bit more inhabited than the bare place, she just came from.

Peter opened a door to a bright room and they all stepped inside.
“Hurry up. I want her to join dinner with the other two.”
He locked the door after him.

The girls began undressing her; she helped as best she could. All her clothes except the bra and knickers were carefully folded. The bra and knickers went into a small, separate plastic bag.

She had time to study the two women: Jeanette was blond, had long hair, and an amble bosom. She had a long face with a straight, thin nose, and a very red, shiny mouth.

Yvonne was slightly smaller, red-haired and pale. Her breasts a bit smaller and more pointed, but equally lifted and parted by the dress. She had small, bluish lines on her breasts. She too had a very red, shining mouth.

They both wore a heavy eye shadow above their eyes, making their eyes look bigger.

Jeannett spoke: “Now. To start with, we need to clean you up a bit”.
“What do you mean?” she asked. Hoping that being alone with these women would give her a chance to find out more.
But Yvonne just put a finger over her lips: “Talking not allowed!”

A few times during the preparation that followed, she tried to start some form of conversation or ask a question, but the girls limited their communication to short orders – albeit in a friendly tone.

In the adjoining bathroom, she was asked to get on all four – naked.

Jeanette pulled a hose from a big transparent bag containing some white fluid. The bag was hanging on a hook on the wall. She felt Yvonne spread her knees, and heard Jeanette said: “Just relax. It will be over in a minute.”
Something entered her anus, and she heard a pumping sound, realising that she had been connected to the bag with the fluid, and one of them was now inflating something inside her. Probably a ball of some kind to prevent the hose from dropping out.

“Here we go. Just relax. It won’t take long. If you feel any pain, try buckling, and try pressing together like you were trying to hold a shit back. Call if there’s anything”.

They left her there. She could feel the lukewarm fluid flowing into her and filing her up. She looked up at the bag. It was still quite full.

Soon she felt an increasing pain inside, and her stomach and intestines rumbled and made strange noises.

She did have time to look around the room. It had grey tiles on the walls and white on the floor. A panel going all the way around the edge of the ceiling gave the place an ambient, shadow free light. It had a bathtub, a toilet and a small area with a mirror and washbasin.

When the bag had almost emptied, the girls came back.

“Good girl. You have taken it all. Now try and keep it in as long as possible.”
She felt the ball deflate, and the hose slide out of her. The girls got her up and helped her down on the toilet in the other side of the room.

After having tried to hold for as long as possible, she relieved herself. They left her for quite a while. Probably wanting to be sure, that she got I all out.

They washed her under a tepid shower as she stood in the bathtub. Carefully and with large, soft sponges and a sweet smelling soap. She thought of telling them, she had just had a bath, but decided to go along with the show without comments.

After they had washed her, and rubbed a faint, olive smelling lotion into her body, they took her to the room, they had started in.

She had noticed what looked like a dentist chair positioned opposite a large 3-vinged mirror on one wall.
Beside the chair was a trolley with a cloth cover.

At the other side of the room were two metal posts going from floor to ceiling. On them hung different ropes, chains and pulleys.

Apart from that the room was empty. It had white walls, and wide, brightly lacquered floorboards like the first room and the hallway.

They placed her on the chair. Not until now, she noticed, that there were several leather straps on the chair.

They strapped her wrists to the armrest and her upper arms to a panel on the back.

A belt went round her stomach from the back, and was tightened hard. Narrowing her waist and keeping her back firmly against the black padding of the chair.
They were so skilled, that before she realised what they were doing, she was helplessly strapped in the chair.

She heard a loud click on both sides, and the support for the armrest slid down vertically. They spread her knees, and the supports came up again. Locking them with another loud click. The posts under the armrests now permanently parted her knees.

She looked in the mirror, and up her open vagina. She hardly noticed the last set of straps, as they went round her ankles.
It was now impossible for her to move – maybe wriggle a little, but otherwise she sat permanently opened in front of the mirror.

(Of course the mirror was two-way, and during the period, she was fixed in the chair a number of persons came and went behind the mirror – including John. A lot of people wanted to ‘assess’ this new addition to their ‘Society’ even though they had all enjoyed the glossy, large photos in her Journal.)

One of the girls adjusted the two ‘wings’ on each side of her head until she was satisfied that the head was upright and relaxed. A final strap came round her forehead.

She was amazed at the skill they had shown, but at the same time began to feel a little unsecure.
They were almost too skilled, and she had had nothing to say. Apart from asking her to sit down, she had had no options.

They rubbed her body with more scent, lacquered her nails with very red polish – feet and fingers.
Painted her lips bright red – with apparently ‘kiss firm’ lipstick. (She tried to lick her lips, when it had dried – and nothing happened). Her nipples got the same red colour, after which nips and lips were ‘lacquered’ so they looked wet and shiny.

The rest of her face got made up as well. Black shadow over her eyes, rouge on her cheeks and a black mascara to complete her transformation.

They also put rouge round her breasts and between her legs. She now looked much like the two girls stepping busily around her.

She found out the chair had yet another feature: With a few mechanical sounds they opened the back and bottom This made it easy for them to colour the surroundings of her back opening red, lacquer the soft skin at the opening and it and dap rouge on the skin around it and the cleavage between her buttocks.

She realized that the enema and the makeup on this particular spot on her body was all in preparation to use this opening – for the first time in her life – but very much in sync with ‘O’s’ story.
The whole transformation had been very quick.

Jeanette leaned over her with a syringe with a short needle.
“What’s that?" She cried out in surprise.
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yes - normally!”
“Well. You are now!” She said as she sank the needle into her shoulder, and pressed the contents into her.
The needle was in and out before she could protest.
John and her had always been careful, and she had been on The Pill for ages.
Now they had made sure, she was on it!

They uncovered the trolley. She could no turn her head and see what was on it, but they were kind enough to give her a short glimpse of each item, before putting it on her.

First they showed her the collar: It was in semi-matte steel with a hard, black neoprene lining. It was ‘anatomically’ formed so it was not just oval. In front was a large shackle on an embedded ring, and similar but smaller shackles were on the sides and in the back.
Beside the front ring – engraved in the steel was on one side the word: ‘SLAVE’ and on the other side: ‘CAT’ – just like the two women had their names engraved in their collars.
They carefully put it around her neck and locked it with a brass-looking padlock on the side of the collar.
The padlock was parallel with the collar and very discrete.
They had taken the strap off her forehead, as they put the collar on.
She turned her head and moved it up and down. Jeanette tried with one finger between collar and skin to see if the fit was ok.

Next they unstrapped her wrists, and a similar set of steel cuffs were secured here. They loosened the strap round her upper arms and with surprising ease, clicked her wrists to the ring in front of her collar. The cuffs – like the collar and the other steel items all had the same engraving: ‘Slave’ and then her name’.

Another set of similar cuffs went on her arms just above the elbows.

Finally her ankles were fitted. The posts were released and pulled down, and a short chain connected the two cuffs on her ankles.
She would now only be able to take small steps – not run or kick.

They helped her up from the chair and over between the posts. A chain was lowered in the middle by one of the girls. Her wrists got attached to the chain, released from her collar and pulled up above her head.
The posts had hooks and shackles here and there, and the end of the chain from her wrists was eased over one of those, securing her position.

Next came the corset. It looked like heavy leather with red edges. The two sides slid over one another on the back where she just got a glimpse of the straps and buckles used for tightening it.
It went on, was hooked together in the front, and then adjusted for position. Jeanette stood in front and adjusted, while Yvonne tightened the straps on the back – one notch at a time. From being loosely fitting, it soon began compressing her waist, the lower part of her ribs and her stomach. Yvonne panted, as she had to use increasing force to get the straps to the next notch.
She ended up only being able to breathe with the top of her chest and it was uncomfortably tight.
She had noticed that both girls wore corsets under their dresses – tight corsets. Their waistline much smaller than her own – even with the reduction of the corset now encasing her.

The last thing they did – as she was still ‘hanging’ there, was to fit her with a white, silky dress – not a ‘Roissy’ dress like they wore, but something completely different.
The top consisted of 4 pieces of material. Two and two tied on her shoulders with a string bow. It was ‘baggy’ on the front almost hiding the shape of her breasts that had now been lifted and parted by the quarter-cups of the corset.
(The corset was so tight that even though she was almost hanging by her wrists above her, her breasts still had contact with the cups of the corset.)
Around her now much smaller waist a wide ‘belt of the same material was wound. They made sure a shackle that was a part of the middle front of the corset stuck through a hole in both the inner and outer material.

The lower part was actually the same four pieces continuing under the belt and almost reaching the floor. The material was overlapping widely both on the top and bottom.
It was not see-through which she was quite happy with.
The last item was a pair of soft slippers or shoes. No heels and very comfortable.

They hoisted her down, unclicked her wrists, moved her hands to her back and reattached them to each other.
She was amazed at the effect the cuffs had on her – physically and mentally. In a few seconds the shackles on any of the steel restraints could render her defenceless.

…and as the absolute final thing, they clicked a short, red, leather leash to the front of her collar.
“You’re very pretty!” Jeanette said, as the first piece of communication not related to making her ready.

Almost on cue, Peter came in.
“Ah. I see you are ready, my dear! Turn her round – slowly!”
The girls pushed her round and back facing Peter. She felt his admiring look measuring her body.
He proceeded to check all the restraints, the locks, the corset, and he was particularly careful that the ring in her corset stuck out through the hole in the front of her dress.
He put his hands around her waist and smiled: “Ahhhh. Beautiful”.

Again the black bag went over her head, and this time the two girls held her, while she imagined Peter holding the leash. She could feel the small tugs on her neck it now and then.

Chapter four
The dinner
It was a short walk, and when the hood came off, they were in a large, high-ceilinged hall.

A long table was set with glasses and plates.

In the far end a small fire was going in the fireplace even though it was summer.

The room was dark, heavy beams supported the high ceiling, and big paintings with dark, nature scenes covered the walls.

There was a long table at one side, and it was set for dinner with glasses, plates, cutlery etc.
She wondered why there was a square, leather upholstered ‘box’ between the chairs at the table.

The chairs were heavy and with armrests had place settings in front of them. In fact all the chairs at the far end of the long table – but nothing in front of the boxes.

She was led to one of the boxes, made to sit down, the girls took the connecting chain off her ankles and made her move back on the box, so that she was sitting almost on the far edge with her legs down the sides.

The girls lifted her ankles and clicked the ankle cuffs to rings on each side of the box so that her feet were not touching the ground. Peter put a chain in the rings between her wrists, and pulled her arms down so that her back stood up straight. When he was satisfied, he secured this chain to something on the back of the bottom of the box.
The girls disappeared silently – and so did Peter.

She tried stretching herself to get at the end of the tight chain behind her, but she could only pull herself a few inches down the chain – not far enough to reach the place where it connected to the box.

On the other side of the table – almost straight opposite her – sat another girl. She was wearing the same loose fitting, white dress and seemed to be firmly attached to her box the same way as her.

For a while they sat alone and looked round at the elegant interior. They did not speak but looked at each other – not knowing what to expect or if they were somehow watched.

Another group appeared. This group was lead by a man holding a leash to a girl dressed as Cat and the other girl at the table – and flanked by two girls in ‘O-costumes’.

The other girl got her own box – and was left there the same way as Cat and the girl opposite.
They sat waiting.

She could just about see the names on the collars of the other two. Right across from her sat a small, skinny black haired girl. Her collar announced that she was ‘Michelle’. The last one was a tall blonde, named ‘Hayley’ according to her collar.

They did not have to wait long. A door opened and they heard a mix of male voices.
All the seats in their end of the table were filled, but there were room for almost the same number at the other end.

Nobody addressed her, so she sat silently and looked at her two neighbours. Peter was on her left, and a new face on her right.

Peter had changed his clothes and now wore the same outfit as all the other men: A loose fitting red, silk top, and a short, open cape. A wide belt, with ‘interesting’ things hanging from it: A short leather crop (made her shiver!) some chains, a leash, black gloves (?), a set of keys, and a small bag or case, which she of course could not know what held. She almost asked, but remembered that she needed to play her part. Their trousers were also loosely fitted, but tight around their bottoms and the front of their stomachs. There was a triangular shape of material in front of their crotches. The material did nothing to hide their male parts.
On their feet they had black leather boots. Shiny and laced with a long black string up the front.

She felt an increasing anxiety, as John was nowhere to be seen. She looked up and down the table for him – in vain. Had he abandoned her? She certainly hoped not. Having no other options anyway, she decided to see what the evening would bring – and if she was not satisfied with the result, or felt in any way insecure, she would confess in the morning, and asked to be taken home.

From the conversation between the men, she found out that the other man at her side was called Claus.
Jeanette, Yvonne (and girls dressed in the similar fashion) silently went to and fro and served dinner. When not attending the table, they stood with their backs to the wall behind her.

The food seemed to be professionally prepared, and the men worked their way through a 3-course meal.

Before the dessert, Peter suddenly turned to her. He put an arm around the shoulder that was farthest away from him, and another hand on the other shoulder. He smiled at her, as he pulled the top apart with a quick, skilled movement.

Still smiling, his hand moved down the front of her chest till it was under the leather cup, and her breast.
His thumb and forefinger closed on her nipple. Her breathing became slightly faster.

Claus had joined the fun, and cupped her other breast. At first they both squeezed lightly and let their thumbs slide round her nipple looking as her nipples began to harden between their fingers. Had her tits not had the shiny, red cover, they would have seen how they darkened as blood flowed to them.

Claus slid his hand down and in between her legs. By reflex she tightening her muscles and tried to close her legs, but the position made that impossible. He smiled even broader as he noticed this.

She gave a quick, short gasp as one of his fingers went inside her wet vagina. Slowly he moved it in and out, making sure his finger slid along her clit at the same time. She did not know where to look, so she stared straight out and into the tablecloth in front of her. Her chest moving up and down at increasing speed.

She gasped again when Claus extracted his finger quickly and her body gave a short shiver. Peter rolled her left nip between his thumb and forefinger, and now began to press. Gradually harder and harder. The increasing pain made tears come to her eyes. He pressed even harder, and turned his fingers a little till it became unbearable and a tear ran down each of her cheeks.
“Please. Please, Sir”, she whispered.
Peter looked at the other man: “ That’s good. She has already learned to beg, and she is very responsive indeed. This is going to be great fun!”
The other man agreed, as Peter gave her nip one last turn and let go, making her gasp and convulse again. He signalled to one of the girls, who came over, put her clothes back in order, and dried her cheeks with a soft tissue.

Slowly her breath and heartbeat returned to normal, as both her neighbours again ignored her and dug into the desert.

A man at the end of the table rose, proposed at toast to ‘The Society’ and declared that coffee would be served in ‘The Great Hall’.

All the men rose, and Yvonne and Jeanette appeared behind her.
Peter said: “I’ll prepare this bitch myself. I only need Jeanette. Yvonne you may proceed to The Great Hall and make yourself useful.”
Some of the kindness had gone out of his voice, and she definitely did not like him using the word ‘bitch’. And was what this preparing, he talked about? Had she not already been prepared?

They both answered ‘Yes, Master’ in a low voice. Yvonne went off, Jeanette released her from the box, Peter grabbed her leash and gave it a quick hard pull making her head jerk forward. “Stand up and come here, bitch!”
His voice now had a distinctly commandeering tone.

Having no other choice but to follow his lead, she trot on behind him, with Jeanette behind her.
At the opposite side of the room, from where they had entered, were a lot of doors. All very close to each other. There was a small room behind the door she was lead through. She just managed to see – out of the corners of her eyes - that the two other girls were led by women like Yvonne through doors next to hers.

The room was also almost bare. Apart from two posts in the middle, going from floor to ceiling, and another trolley covered with cloth at one side.
Between the two posts was a horizontal bar, attached to the posts. He pulled her to the middle of the bar. Jeanette adjusted the bar in both sides, so that it was level with her stomach.

She again felt her heart beat faster, and her breathing become agitated. What was going to happen here? He had said ‘make the bitch ready’. What did he mean by that.

He took the black, thin gloves from his belt and put them on, looked at her, and said: “Spread your legs, bitch. More. More. That’s good”. As her legs parted Jeanette clicked chains from the posts lying ready on the floor to her ankle cuffs.

Having put his gloves on, he grabbed the ring protruding from the front of her corset, and attached it to a ring on the horizontal bar.
She meekly let all this happen.
Behind her, Jeanette removed the cloth from the trolley – again something she sensed out of the corner of her eyes.

Peter went behind her, and then a big red ball appeared in front of her face.
“Open wide. Wider! That’s good”.
Resting the ball on her lower jaw he turned it into her mouth.

It was big – very big. Her jaws almost cramped. He let go and looked with a broad smile.
“See. Bitch. This is absolutely the right fit. You can’t even push it out without help.”

She tried to open wider, and push the ball out with her tongue. It tasted and smelled faintly of disinfectant.
He was right! She would need someone to pull on the two leather straps going out from each side of the ball.
This did not happen – of course. Instead he grabbed the two straps, buckled them together behind her head – tight.
“Just to be sure it stays in place”, he whispered in her ear.

Jeanette let a finger run along the straps and her lips making sure there was no pinching.
She made garbled noise in her throat.
“Yes. Yes. You wont be able to make much conversation now – will you?”
He did not expect an answer, but she made another sound deep down inside.
‘He caressed her cheek: “lovely!”

Next a short chain was clicked to the back of her collar. With Jeanette’s aid, he released and moved her wrists high up on her back, and connected them to the chain.

Again he brought his mouth close to her ear: “This is a wonderful position. You might want to struggle, bitch, but I would advise against it. The only thing you will achieve will be the most wonderful choking sensation. If you keep very still it might take a little while before the tension in your arms alone will create that sensation.
I hope you enjoy it, bitch!”

He was quite right: The strain from her arms on the short chain and eventually on her collar made her feel like being strangled.

He went round to her front. Slowly, very slowly he undid the bows on her shoulders. Having no way of preventing it, she felt the material fold down front and back. Leaving her upper torso nude and showing the corset.

He cupped both her breasts, and let his thumbs play with her nips as before. Again she could not help getting aroused – to her own surprise. Of course he ended this with another hard press and another wring, making her squirm and tears again began running down her cheeks.
‘Lovely’, he said again. Admiring her breast. The awkward position of her hands making her back arch as much as the corset allowed and her breasts stand even further out. Resting in the quarter cups of the unforgiving corset.

A few minutes later, he had undone the belt round her waist, making the rest of her dress fall to the floor, where Jeanette promptly removed it.

Again he went to her back. This time he worked on the corset. Tightening one strap at a time from top to bottom, and back again. It was terrible! The hard leather compressed her waist, ribs and stomach even more. Her breathing became even shorter, faster and more staccato. She felt dizzy.

Finally he was satisfied. He went round the front, grabbed her waist and pulled a little back and forth.
“This will do for a start. I’ll explain it to you, bitch. Just this once, so you know what is going to happen. The corset gives you a perfect posture, The slim waist makes your breasts and you butt seem bigger and more inviting, the decrease also has the effect that you hips stands out, so there will be two perfect handles, when taking you from behind. Your compressed intestines will press on your cunt and ass – making both tighter for our pleasure. Consider yourself lucky!”

As he spoke, she could hear the small click, clicks from the locks Jeanette attached on the buckles of the corset to make any tampering impossible without keys.

As her hands and arms were bent in pain on her back, she did not have the remotest thought of tampering with anything right now.

Her eyes followed him, but he did not notice. Had she not been gagged, she would have confessed everything right there and then, and asked him to send her home immediately. As the situation was, she did not have that option, and it certainly did not look as if she was going to get it. She knew she was in trouble.

A short chain was hooked to the front of her collar instead of a leash.
“Now we’re almost done”.
Jeanette released her ankles, pushed her legs together, and connected them with a short chain again.

He undid the ring at the front of her waist, Jeanette lifted the bar away, then grabbed her leash/chain.
A sudden sharp pain from across her buttocks made her almost jump.
“Lets’ move. Bitch. It’s off to play land.”
He had used the short riding crop across her behind, and the pain stung and sent shivers though her body.
They went out of the door in the opposite side of the room from the one they had entered.

It was indeed a ‘Great Hall’: a very large room. Again with a high ceiling, paintings on the wall, decorative panelling and in the middle at square platform with four pillars from each corner going from floor to ceiling.

In the far end of the room – although not far from the platform, was a seating arrangement with leather chairs and sofas, and a big open fireplace with a small fire going in the middle. The men from the dinner were reclining in the chairs and sofas, and women (including Yvonne and Jeanette) were going about serving the coffee.

She was taken to the platform. She was not the only one. The girl, she recognized as Hayley was already there. Done up as she was, and having her lead chain connected to a post.

Jeanette dragged her to a free post, lifted the end of the chain up and let it slide over a hook at eye level. This was mockery, she thought. She could see the hook and chain. There was no lock on them. It would be easy just to lift it off, but in her present condition there was no way she would ever be able to reach the hook.

Peter leaned close to her ear again: “Now you stand here as a good little slave, and wait till we have time for you. In the meantime, you can imagine what we are going to do to you. Enjoy yourself, bitch!”
He turned, walked over to the rest of the men, sat down, grabbed a cup of coffee, and ignored her completely.

Not long after Michelle was positioned at another one of the posts. There was now only one free post, and judging from the company that had been at the dinner, this would remain so. She noticed that Michelle had been weeping. She had probably anticipated this treatment as little as she had – and was obviously more disturbed by it.

Soon she began to drool. She could not control her mouth water. It dripped down her chest. Her arms hurt, and she could feel her heartbeat throbbing away where the collar pressed on her neck. She had spots dancing before her eyes.

She tried hearing what the men talked about. At the beginning it was everyday smalltalk, but then they began discussing the three women awaiting their fate at the platform.
They agreed to ‘take Michelle’ first. Whatever that meant.

Three men went over to Michelle. One of them blindfolded her with a black, silk blindfold. Then they proceeded to ‘examine’ her. From where Cat stood it looked like they were all over her body, fingers in her openings, and tongues in her mouth. Cat shivered.

They all let go as if on a signal, took the chain off the hook, and dragged the poor girl over to another door at the wall. The door closed. No one else seemed to take notice.

It took a while – a long while. As she was waiting, she noticed Yvonne giving head to one of the men sitting in the group.
She did not see John anywhere, but surely he must be there somewhere? He had promised to stand by her side?

Finally the door opened, and the three men returned. A conversation so quiet that she had no way of overhearing what was said took place between the three men and the rest of the group.

When Peter got up together with two other men, she knew it was her turn. They came close. Peter whispered in her ear: “Close your eyes, bitch!” Having no choice she did so, and the blindfold took her into a merciful darkness – but not for long.

A finger protruded her anus, another her vagina – and mouths, teeth and hands squeezed, pressed, pulled and twisted her breasts and nipples. They were very careful to hold her upright even though she convulsed and moved like a fish on a hook.

Just when she thought she could no endure anymore, they stopped. Strong hands grabbed her and she was carried more than walked across the room.

She heard the door close behind her – with a swishing sound. A soundproof door – the voices got muffled so the room itself was probably soundproof. She heard the weak and faint sounds of another person in agony in the room – probably Michelle.

She stumbled as she was being led up a few steps. Strong hands held her upper arms, a pair of knees pressed behind her knees, and they made her kneel on the floor.
“Down, bitch!” This was Peter again
Hands again pulled at her knees, dragging her along the soft surface and in around something between her legs, a cold, steel rod slid in behind her knees.

The blindfold was taken off. She blinked a few times against the sudden light. Then looked around.
Her legs were held in place by a steel rod that went through a ring on the back of the upholstered box between her spread legs. She struggled a few times although she knew it was futile.

Then she saw where the faint sounds had come from. Right in front of her Michelle was hanging. Slack, like an ‘X’ with her arms and legs attached to chains on posts on both sides of her. On the front of her legs, her stomach and breasts were crisscrossed by blue, yellow and red stripes as only a whip could have made. From her corset two thin chains went down to her crotch, were Cat could see a black plate. She suspected it was the end of a dildo. Looking closer, she could also see something further back under her. Probably another dildo in her anus – and instead of the bright red ball gag, she now had a black leather patch across the lower part of her face. Cat did not dare think of what this leather patch concealed.

The men were all wearing leather masks covering their heads and only leaving their nostrils and mouths free. She did recognize Peter though. The nice ‘lawyer-looking’, polite person that had now changed into one of her tormenters.

Peter said: “ I think we should add a few stripes to her butt before we begin. It is a good foreplay, and it will give her the most tantalizing feeling when our bodies get in contact with it when we take her.
She felt cold all over, as they all agreed this would be a good idea.

One of them went to a rack on the wall and came back with a long, thin, nasty looking cane. He swished it in the air several times. They were going to cane her!

As hands on her shoulders bent her down on the leather box, she wriggled and fought the little she could, but she was easily pressed down on the surface, and a wide leather belt went across her waist. Her breasts just resting over the far edge of the box. Down on the floor under her, she could see the wet spots Hayley’s tears and drooling had made.
They let her wriggle a minute or two before the first stroke of the cane.

She felt it caressing the top of her buttocks, being moved back and forth on the same spot. Then came the sound and the violent pain. Then another and another and…

The cane made an almost perfect parallel set of lines down her butt. From where the crack between the buttocks started on her back to just under the place were her legs began.

The one using the cane did not give her time to recover after each stroke, but hit her in a rapid rhythm.
She did all the screaming and all the struggling she could manage – which were very little, as he made a second – and then a third pass on her butt.

Her behind was on fire, welts were rapidly forming where the cane had struck, and she was crying and drooling completely out of control. Her body contracting and shivering, but the most degrading thing was that she knew two other men had had been watching with pleasure as she was whipped out of any form of self-control.

Before she had time to pull herself together, the waist strap was released, she was pulled upright by her shoulders, the ball gag was pulled out of her mouth and what she later found was called a ‘dental gag’ was pressed between her teeth, her mouth was forced open to the max by this device. She shook her head, but in vain. The only difference from before was that now she was able to make a more articulate sound – or at least a louder sound.

Not for long. A man’s crotch appeared in front of her. He took a firm grasp of her hair, and rubbed a half erected penis in her face.

He held her head by the hair with one hand, and the root of his penis with the other. As it hardened and grew, he stuck it in her mouth and moved her head back and forth making her almost gag as the head hit the back of her throat.

When he had made himself stiff enough, he held her head and body back in upright position A small, flat black piece of latex attached to a pumping ball was pushed in between the jaws of the dental gag her, the ball was pressed several times till the latex filled her mouth completely – efficiently shutting her up.

Still holding her by the hair, he pressed her down into the former position – and the belt once again pressed her waist to the leather box.

He kneeled behind her, let his gloved hands caress her sore buttocks and moved them up to a firm grip on her hips. Again she tried wriggling and avoiding him, but she felt the point of his member – now touching her inner labia – just following her small movements.

He moved in a little. She felt her labia being pushed open. Then he moved out again. She would never have imagined, that such treatment as she had just had, could make her wet – but it had!

He kept on playing with her: Pushed a little inside her – and then out, then again. Each time a little further in.
It was as if he wanted her to know that he could penetrate her to any degree he found suitable – without her having any say in the matter. After a while she felt his hair against her own naked and hairless crotch and his member deep inside her. He stopped for a few seconds, and then began making rotating movements so she could feel his point rotate round her cervix deep inside.

He bent over her back, let his hands slide forward and began playing with her free hanging breasts. Now softly and caressing, now hard, pressing and pulling.

He kept doing this as she felt goose pimples develop on her skin, and her body begin to shake slightly, then he moved back, got a firm grip of her hips again and began moving in and out. At first long, slow movements, then faster and shorter. His legs hammering against the sore welts on her buttocks and his hard manhood striking her innermost parts.

To her own amazement, she came before him – and several times.
What triggered her arousement and eventual orgasm, she did not know: The helplessness? The brutal treatment? The idea of rape? She did not know, but let her body flow with the ecstasy as she felt his warm semen spray like fire into her.

He had moaned and groaned in the end, but now his breath slowly returned to normal as he kept his decreasing member inside her.

When he eventually pulled the now almost slack member out, he said: “I think we will have a size 9. That will fit her perfectly”.

A few minutes later, she felt a hard and large object being shoved into her – very deep inside her!

It was thicker, longer and harder than the meaty one it replaced. It pushed her cervix up and was very, very uncomfortable. The outside end of the ‘object’ had a plate, now resting against her outer labia – and with a series of small, hard, rounded rubber points, that pressed on her clit. The person mounting the thing was careful to spread her labia with two fingers so he was sure these points were in close contact with her most sensitive point - and that it was as far in as it could possible go!

Two thin chains up each side of her sore butt and going through two small rings on each side of the back of her corset, made sure the dildo stayed firmly in place. Two small, flat padlocks secured the chains.
She was pulled upright again; the chain from the front of the dildo was pulled up over her stomach, and secured with yet another padlock to the bottom of the corset.

Then the whole thing started over again: The gag was deflated, a man used her head and mouth to get hard, the inflatable ball replaced his penis, she was pressed down and secured, the man got behind her.

A small stool went on the floor between her legs.

She knew what was going to happen. For the first time in her life, she would be ‘used’ in her anus. She was thankful when she felt a couple of fingers going in and out of this her smallest opening, and apparently oiling or greasing her.

Looking to the sides she could see the first man having his member ‘cleaned’ by Jeanett kneeling in front of him. Yvonne and Jeanett had apparently followed them into the room and she later found out that they were a kind of attendants to her.

The man went down and pressed himself into her. It hurt even though she had been greased.
She was on fire, and got pounded once again.

Strangest feeling. New feeling. Different feeling. Hurting feeling. Burning feeling.

He was big, she was small, and he worked her over like it was a competition.

She felt like she had been split down up the middle, when he came with a loud cry and his warm load was released inside her.

Unfortunately, his painful visit to her rectum was followed by a ‘size 6’ dildo which he ordered for her, when he pulled out of her behind.

Again she felt the burning and like she was being split in two. The rod was smooth and greased. It had a very small point, that went into her without any problem, but as it was slowly pressed further and further in, the diameter of the thing gradually got larger and larger. Causing her increasing pain as her sphincter was expanded.

It had a wide plate at the bottom, and the plate was angled in order for it to follow her anatomy to some degree.

It did not take a College Degree to figure out what the third man was going to do to her.
Again she was raised and again the ball in her mouth was deflated, leaving her mouth wide open by the dental gag.

He also used a firm grip on her hair, and pounded her uvula mercilessly until he filled her mouth with warm, sticky cum. Some of it she was forced to swallow some spilled out over her chin.

The dental gag was removed, and replaced with a penis gag on a black, flat leather holder that was strapped round her head. Sperm mixed with drool dripping out beside the leather and her face.

It was a trifle more comfortable than the other gag she had been mounted with, but still did not enable her to stop drooling. She sucked on the penis shape deep inside her mouth.

As all three now had tried their preferred opening and she was duly plugged and gagged, they released her. Her arms and hands – now totally without any feeling left, slid down on her back. Her wrists still locked together. The strangling sensation that had been there since Peter had first pulled her arms up - slowly diminished and the red spots before her eyes vanished. The rod behind her knees was pulled out and she was left splayed out in a strange angle on the box – but only for a few minutes.

She was lifted up, placed between the one of the posts Michelle still hung limb from and another one on the side of that. Chains were attached and she was pulled up on her toes in the same ‘X’ position as Michelle.

They tested the tightness by grabbing her round the waist and pressing back and forth, then pulling her up further, till she was strung out to their satisfaction.

They began working on her front. One of the men stood in front of her with a long bullwhip that he began swinging from side to side horizontally. With each swing the end hit her soft skin. He was very precise.

He concentrated on her stomach the top of her legs, and her breasts. Every fifth passé hit her breasts so she had a little time to recuperate before the next time the whip hit her most soft and sensitive skin. Again it did not take long before she began to struggle in her restraints, cry and trying to beg for mercy in spite of the gag in her mouth.

A timer rang, and the man went to her back. Here he hit the back of her legs, her buttocks and the top of her back (the part sticking up from the corset).

He had not whipped her for very long, before a voice said: “Hold on a minute”. One of the men came up to her, released the locks to the penis in her vagina, and pulled it out with a fast movement, making her squirm again.

Apparently the whipping had made him horny again. He let his stiff member slide half way into her, and then gave the signal for the whipping to continue.
He leaned back and stood still, as he let her small movements every time the whip hit make his penis slide in and out.
When he had come, he withdrew, shoved the dildo inside her again, and locked it – then the whipping continued.

At last it was over. They stopped whipping, and lowered her just so much that her feet could rest on the ground and she could sway a little.

They left. Jeanette and Yvonne made themselves useful wiping the box, cleaning the whip, and clearing everything for the next girl.

In her semi-consciousness state, she saw Hayley being brought in with three new men.

She watched Hayley’s plight in her dazed condition. Hayley had pretty much the same treatment as she had had, and were equally unconscious, when she finally hung as the last ‘X’ beside Cat.

They hung there for quite a while, gradually regaining some of their wits.

Cat was now sure that as soon as she was given the chance, she would do all that she could to get out of there. This had been nothing like the ‘O’ story. She had been used and abused in a way she never thought possible.

Chapter five
Her private hell
They came for Michelle first. Jeanette and Yvonne accompanied by a masked Master. Hooded her, took her down and walked off with her. After a while they came back, put the now familiar black hood over Cat’s head, secured her hands on her back and led her off.
It was quite a long walk and a number of descending staircases. They were supporting her – almost carrying as she was dizzy, her body hurt and her legs felt like jelly.

The destination was behind a door that gave a hissing sound, when opened and closed.
A room that muffled the sounds – a soundproof room.

They sat her down. Her collar was unlocked and replaced by another one that felt pretty much like the first one. The chain from the front of it was locked to something judging from the sound.
Again she was pulled to her feet. The dildo in her front was unlocked and pulled out gently. The hood came off and the gag in her mouth was removed.

She was still blinded by the sudden, sharp light, when they had all left. The last sound she heard was the airlock on the door closing behind them.

She sat for a while. Her body hurt all over, her anus was in pain from the expansion. The many stripes on her body burned like fire.

She looked round the room. Her hands were clicked together on her back. She tried to wriggle a little, but the cuffs were snug and she could not reach the shackles connecting them. When she stood up, she could reach the chain from her corset, down the crack between her buttocks to the dildo in her behind, but only to finger the lock. The chain ran from the dildo, through a small ring in the corset and half way back, where the padlock secured the arrangement.

She tried if she could pull at the dildos end plate, which was resting on her buttocks, but it sat firmly there, keeping the long, painful rod in place.

From her collar was a short chain to a massive padlock connecting it to another chain. This one ran to a large ring up on the wall – almost at the ceiling and then in a curve down along the wall to what looked like a heavy hook about a meter above the floor beside the bed. The chain seemed slack. The fastening point of the end of the long chain looked like it was not secured in way, but just hanging on the hook without a lock. She crawled over the bed and tried to get at the fastening point, but of course the chain was just short enough for her not to touch the hook with one leg stretched out.

Another mockery. Anyone except her could just lift the end of the chain off and release it.
She crawled back to the other side of the bed and sat down.

She looked closer at the environment. The bed she was sitting on was more a low platform with a red leather-like padding than an ordinary bed.

On each side of the bed, against the wall were two small, padded boxes. She learned later that the one nearest her had a small, sliding door in the wall right behind it. At irregular intervals a tiny bell-like tingling announced that the flap slid up and food were being served. Always the same salad menu with solely plastic knives, forks, cups etc.

The other box had a lid that would swing up against the wall – and underneath was a combined toilet and bidet.

The two corners of the bed – away from the wall - had posts going from floor to ceiling and with ropes, chains, pulleys and attachment rings placed in abundance on them.

Between the pillars was a stockade with two openings for the wrists and one for the neck. The stockade could move up and down on the posts and be locked at the desired level.

The chain from her collar was just long enough for her not to reach any of it. Her movements were restricted to an area just half way down the bed and a small area on each side.

Above her was a mirror, the size of the bed. She looked up and looked at her new collar. It was much like the old one, but had a strange small box attached under her chin. From this box a heavy ring connected her to the main chain.

The walls were covered with a light red material, and up along the ceiling there was a panel hiding the light source. This was the only light source in the room – but quite adequate for her to see everything.

The bed was in one end of the room; the door through which they had come was in the middle of the wall to her right. In the centre of the room was a low platform with four posts. Smaller than the one in The Great Hall, but equally ominous looking.

At the far end was what she later called ‘the cleaning area’. Here there was a glass door to a very small niche in the wall. On top of the door a steel rail protruded about a meter into the room.
Beside the door were two low posts connected with a horizontal beam and with rings on the posts and the floor.

The floor was reddish like the walls, but with an easy-clean linoleum surface.

There was another stockade. This one a standing one with horizontal blocks for the ankles on the floor.

There was a padded ‘seat’ that had a very small rest for the buttocks, a back tilted backwards and ‘U’-Shaped holders at the sides.

Along the wall stood a long, square, wooden beam that had low scaffolds with small wheels in each end and a number of ‘sockets’ along the top – about a half a meter apart.

The last ‘instrument’ was a wooden horse. A slightly rounded, padded top with a socket under a flap for a dildo. And assorted weights stacked underneath to press a person down on the edge and the dildo all the way up in the person’s vagina.

The walls were covered with the instruments of her ‘training’: One spot had dildos hanging neatly according to size. From the smallest to the largest. Another held an assortment of whips, floggers, canes and crops, another again held rope, nicely wound and hung in perfect order, chains, shackles and everything one could imagine would be in a perfect BDSM room.
There was not much free space on the walls – except just around the bed, she was sitting on.

Later Jeanette and Yvonne sometimes came in and cleaned everything on the wall, checked them and made sure all was in perfect order – under supervision of course. She was never left alone with the girls.

After having looked round with increasing anxiety, she rolled down on the bed and fell in to an uneasy rest. She was so tired and worn out that the discomfort of having her hands locked on her back, her waist compressed by the corset and her anus expanded by the dildo did not make any difference – she dozed off.

She barely noticed that the light dimmed to a low reddish colour as soon as she was down on the bed.

Jeanette and Yvonne woke her up as the light was turned up again. They gently treated her body with oils and ointment. There was no talking as a masked man kept guard over them.

When they left and she collapsed once more on the bed, she thought of when she was going to address one of the men, tell the truth and get out of there.

The next week was what she later described to herself as ‘the missing week of my life’.

In the beginning she had no chance to talk to anybody. Every session began with her being shut up with one form of gag or another – usually by Jeanette or Yvonne, who were the only recognizable persons during her stay in this ‘Cellar’.
All others wore masks, and sometimes even she would be masked, making her feel like an anonymous body, just for free use.

She quickly lost sense of time. The light was dimmed most of the time, but turned up to full strength a few minutes before someone would enter and begin ‘training’ her. After a session – that usually lasted for about an hour or so, they left and the light was immediately dimmed again.

She did not know this, but there was an irregular interval of approximately 3 hours between sessions – round the clock.

Food was also the same – and served at equally irregular intervals.

They were serious in not letting her touch herself. The first many meals were forgone by Jeanette and Yvonne mounting her with a locked steel chastity belt and a chastity bra. The bra was made of two round, metallic orbs – neoprene lined and fitting over her breasts. These two ‘cups’ were held in place by chains placed much like an ordinary bra.

The Chastity belt was a neoprene-lined steel encasing of her waist, two chains down her buttocks and a steel shield in front. Making sure no contact to her vagina and surrounding area was possible.

When that was in place, her hands were released and she could eat – supervised by a Master and Yvonne and Jeanette. In this way they made sure she did not even accidentally touched herself. Everyone had free access to her most intimate places – except herself.

She thought about refusing to eat, but gave up the idea almost immediately. Partly because she was very hungry and thirsty when food was served, partly because the first couple of times, she had refused to eat, she had been punished by a severe whipping for misbehaving.
After she had eaten, her hands would be secured again – and her openings and breasts were freed for use again.

The training was something else. She quickly learned that the little box in front of her collar held a battery – and that two small metal electrodes protruded the insides of the collar and was touching the skin of her neck.

She hated the collar from the first moment. She would be ordered to do something – and in the beginning refuse – in shear spite. It would result in a number of jolts from the two electrodes on the inside of the collar and in close contact with the sensible skin on the sides of her larynx - till she complied. In the beginning it took several jolts, and she had tears running down her cheeks – but very, very quickly she learned to comply – fast.

The only thing, she achieved by insisting to refuse was that they increased the voltage on the remote and continued jolting her – till she could not stand it and did what she was told.

She also quickly learned that if she did not comply immediately, she would be punished for being disobedient – after she had done as ordered – usually by whipping, cropping or caning.

She very quickly realized that it was in her own best interest to do as she was told.

The remote control hung just inside the door together with a pair of ‘cattle prods’ i.e. long sticks with a handle and battery in one end and a two-pronged electrode in the other. There was also two smaller ‘prods’ used with equally nasty effects on her body.

When she first tried to talk to a Master – shortly after her plight had started, she never got very far. As soon as she had said a word or two, she was jolted and told that talking was prohibited. As a whipping for talking without permission followed the jolting, it quickly killed any idea of her trying to explain and be set free.

She kept her mouth shut, and aimed at being released when they eventually let her out of this torture chamber – which they had to do sooner or later.

Cleaning was something else. Once in a while, Jeanette and Yvonne took her to the ‘cleaning area’ at the far end of the room. Of course supervised by a Master. Her hands were released from her back and she was hung by her wrists on the rail leading to the small shower niche. The collar was removed, and the Master unscrewed the battery box by a small screw on the inside of the collar – and replaced the box with a freshly charged one while she was cleaned.

With her feet still solid planted on the floor, the Master unlocked the dildo and corset – and the girls removed both items. She was then pulled up – off the floor, pushed as she glided along the rail into the niche. Here her feet were attached to rings on each side – holding her legs slightly apart. The door was closed and a series of nozzles in all four corners washed her – much like a carwash – but without the rotating brushes, she thought.

The only deviation from this routine was, when she was administered the regular enema followed by her emptying herself on the toilet in the box on the side of the bed.

After she had been sprayed with a soapy solution and afterwards with clean water, the door was opened and she was pulled out on the rail.

While still hanging there, they dried her with soft towels, and treated her body – and whip marks – with ointment and oils.

Then the corset came on again. The corset was tightened a little more each time, until there were no more holes for the straps. Then it was replaced with another corset. This one starting a little under her breasts, but leaving them free and ending just below her navel. The new one having a maximum corresponding to the old ones minimum – and the reducing of her waist kept on. She was always out of breath and in more or less pain from her compressed insides. Even though the corset had a soft lining, her skin was reddish and bore the clear marks of it every time it was off. The girls oiled and greased this part of her body with extra care each time they had the chance.

The Master fitted the hated collar round her neck, and she was taken down and her hands locked again on her back.

As she was always fitted with a ‘fresh’ battery in her collar it was no problem to make her stand in front of the scaffold by the side of the bath, spread her legs and have them attached to rings in the floor, make her bend over the horizontal beam, and attach a chain from a ring on the floor in front of her to her collar.

Often the Master would ‘try her out’ – that is he would fuck her in her back opening to check for size and comfort, and then – checking or no checking – the rod – or a larger equivalent was pushed inside her and locked.

When all had been done she was back on her chain on the bed.

Even though it was rather degrading to be washed and cleaned this way, she learned to appreciate it. Usually she had dried semen all over her body and was sweaty and hurting, so the lukewarm water was quite a relief.

They liked to play games with her.

One game was to have her in the low ‘chair’ tied up with her legs spread in the ‘U’-holders, and electrodes attached to her tits, labia, clit (by a nasty small clip), to the rod in her anus and a rod in her cunt.

A controlling box on the floor in front of her – wired to the electrodes - would send jolts through her body – at random intervals, at random strength and at random points on her body.

Sometimes a Master would sit on a low chair and watch her sometimes she would be left alone to endure the ordeal.

When exposed to this kind of torture, she could not tell where the next jolt would come, how strong it would be, if it would just hit one place of her body, or several at once. Therefore she could not prepare herself for the jolt, just take a deep breath and hope it would be weak and on a not too sensitive spot.

She was never left to herself – although it might seem so. Webcams placed hidden all over the place made sure that she was under 24/7 surveillance from a room down the hall outside.

Another game was that the long, low, wooden beam would be fitted with upright dildos. Usually ten - in ever increasing sizes. She would get the option of getting 50 lashes with a tool the Master chose and on a place of her body that he also decided, or she could choose to mount the dildos from one end. Each dildo counted for 5 lashes.

She would step over the beam, and on the Masters signal, descent on the first one. To make absolutely sure she had gone all the way down, her ankles were connected by rope to a long rail underneath the beam. Yvette and Jeanette would each hold the end of a rope. When she confirmed that she was all the way down, the Master would give the girls a nod and they would hold her by her upper arms and pull the rope, making her feet lift off the ground.

He would then ask her if she would mount the next one and if she agreed, her feet were lowered, she was told to stand up, move forward and descend on the next one – and so on.

If she stopped, the number of dildos left would be counted, and the number of lashes administered.
If she agreed to do the next one, but failed to go the entire way down, the whole thing would be void, and she would get the full 50 lashes.

Sometimes the dildos had small chains attached, and that meant that the last one she descended on would be locked to her corset, released from the beam and stay inside her for as long as the Master desired.

She very quickly realized that the only way out was to be very, very obedient, or at least make them believe she was. When she got out, she would seek out John as soon as possible, and have him aid her in leaving this place.

In the end of her time in the cellar, she was so obedient that she often fell to her knees and offered her open mouth with the tongue out to a Master that was about to punish her. The Masters often let her give them head, and sometimes it worked, but sometimes she got punished anyway afterwards. She never knew.

Also in the end of her stay, she had to oil the anal dildo herself, bend over and use her hands to spread her buttocks while the Master inserted it.

To her own amazement, she was never dry, but always moist between her legs; she was easily aroused and had more and more orgasms as the training proceeded.

It seemed like she was getting more and more sensitive. Before she had often failed to orgasm – with John or other lovers, she had had, but here she always came – and often long before the man using her. Her bound and forced state apparently had a strange effect on her sensitivity and sexuality.

It was not all pain. Sometimes she was gently fucked – sometimes by more than one at a time, sometimes they kept on and on and on – using their bodies and electric vibrators making her come again and again – and again. Till she screamed and begged them to stop – and then some.

Most of the time she was exhausted and just fell into a daze when the light was dimmed. She usually managed to look at herself in the overhead mirror as her eyes closed. It was the last thing, she saw when falling asleep, and the first thing she saw when the light went up again: Her body in its restraints, helpless on the bed.

She noticed that the women never had keys. Keys were the Masters privilege, and when something had to be unlocked – either an accompanying Master did so, or he handed one of the girls his set of keys to use for the specific task.

When she was initially prepared, she remembered that all locks had been open on the trolley. The girls just had to mount them and close them.

Yvonne and Jeanette were very gentle with her. Sometimes they even managed to whisper a few sentences. They had to be careful though. Once Yvonne was discovered whispering and she was whipped hard as Cat had to watch and count the strokes.

In the beginning they said: “Do everything you’re told. Then it won’t be so bad!” and ‘Hold out. It is over soon!” One day, when she was in tears, both of them kissed her cheeks, and whispered: “Brave girl. You’re almost through it!”
She was sure that they both had been through this ‘initial training’.

She did not know if John had been any of the Masters visiting her in the cellar. They were all masked, and she was surprised, that she had not figured out if he was one of the men having her.
None of the Masters had made any sign or gesture that it was John – so she had to endure.

In fact John followed her closely. It was a decision that they would have no contact. She had to feel all alone and without any means of help during her stay. Sometimes he would watch in the webcam-room for long periods of time, sometimes he would discretely mix with a group of Masters and enjoy himself. He rather liked the fact that she did not seem to know him from the rest.

Chapter six
The obedient slave
Everything eventually ends – and so did her stay in the cellar. When Jeanette and Yvonne led her out – hands still locked on her back and the black hood over her head, she knew that she would never forget the time there.
What she did not realize was that in all future, the cellars would be in her subconscious mind. Knowing that at any time she might find herself back in the dreadful place.

She was taken up – maybe to the third floor, and put in a nice warm bath for a very long time. After that, they went over her body meticulously, oiling, greasing and repairing all the marks and scratches. She was sore in her anus, sore in her vagina, tired and exhausted. To her surprise she also found that she was a proud that she had endured her time in the cellar.

While the attended to her, they found time for a little whispering. “You’re lucky to be in this section!”
“Why?”
“These are nice rooms, and your attendant is Lonnie. He’s very nice and gentle and does not abuse the girls!”
“What’s an attendant?”
“This is modelled around ‘The Story of O’, so of course you have an attendant. They are usually young men that are interested in this, but does not have the funds to become full members.”
“I see.”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking he is not like the other men. The attendants can use us, and do whatever they want, when no one else is requiring our service. They have keys but not for everything, and the are allowed to punish us as they please – and they are ordered to now and again.”

To her it sounded little different from the Masters – maybe except their age.
“Be careful. If they find out you are getting too friendly with your attendant, they will change him. We are supposed to be submissive – not friends with any of our superior’s….shyyy..here he comes…”

Hello Cat. I’m Lonnie - your caretaker while you are here. Is she ready?”
“Yes, Sir. Quite ready!”
“OK. You may leave.”
“Thank you, Sir”

“Stand up, Cat!”
She rose and stood. Her legs apart and her arms down her sides. She looked down at the floor.
“Look at me!”
She looked up into his very blue eyes. They locked eyes for a short while.

His dress was different from the Masters. He had a bare, well-trained torso. A leather utility belt almost like the Masters, and tight sitting trousers. He had no triangular patch in front, but his genitals hung out through a small hole in the front. He was wearing something that looked like military boots – maybe Doc Martens.
He wore the usual thin, black gloves.

“Fold your hands behind your head, please.”
She complied and he let one hand slide over her side, and up to her breast. Slowly playing with her nipple. It responded immediately and hardened under his soft caress.
His hand went from her breast to her chin. He held her head and moved it from side to side. Studying her features.
“You’re very beautiful, Cat!”
This was a surprise. In the lack of anything to answer, she just said. “Thank you, Sir.”
To which he smiled.
“I’m sure we are going to get along fine.”
“Me too, Sir!”
“Good. Now turn round!”

Exposing her back to him, he took a grip round her now considerably thinner waist, then slid down and felt her buttocks.
“Turn again. Give me your hands, please!”
She did as told, stretching her hands out towards him.
He clicked them together, and then to her collar.
“You may sit on the bed now.”
“Yes, Sir.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, which was considerably softer than the one in the cellar.
“You will now have a longer resting period. I suggest you try and get some sleep.” He said while gently pushing her down on the bed.

The chain hanging from the ring above the bed was attached to her collar, and the whole arrangement was padlocked together.

He showed her a button on one side of the bed – a large half round thing. He told her to press that if she needed his attention – if f. inst. she needed to go to the bathroom.

“Now roll on your back and spread your legs, please!”
She did so.
“Lift you knees and spread more, more! That’s fine.”

He looked up her open crotch. Then leaned forward. She gasped as he grabbed her outer labia, and pulled them apart. She felt a finger entering her and moving around inside her. Her body responded immediately.
With two fingers he pulled the hood back from her clit, and another finger caressed the sensitive point.
She felt her body shiver slightly and was not able to control it.
He sat up. Pushed her legs down.
“Lovely!” Was all he said.

He then pulled the cover over her, stroked her hair and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead.
“Sleep well, beautiful little slave girl.”

He turned the light out before he closed the door behind him.

There was a dimmed light from the curtained windows.
She had a look round her new room. It was dominated by the large bed in which she was lying chained. There was a full sized mirror in the ceiling making it almost impossible for her not to watch herself.

At the end of the bed were two posts. All the way from the ceiling to the floor, and with rope, chains and rings hanging from them. The chain from her collar did not allow her to reach the posts – of course.

The arrangement was similar to the cellar: She could move in a short radius from the ring on the wall, but only to a little over halfway down the bed and on a small area on each side.

At her left were an easy chair and a table. She was never allowed to use the chair. It was reserved for her Masters.

At the end of the room was the door to the toilet, which held a bidet, a shower, a washbasin and a small backless stool on which she could sit in front of the mirror over the washbasin and do her makeup etc.

At her right was the door leading into the room, and beside that a ‘clothes rack’ that held an assortment of whips, canes and crops, chains and ropes (hanging neatly folded), a few gags and other nasty implements of her slavery.
Not as elaborate as the full wall displays in the cellar, but enough to remind her that her life could be made suitably miserable should she not behave herself.

Beside the rack was a small cupboard, which she found out later contained her ‘Society clothes’ and shoes etc. and had a small locked compartment for her ‘civilian clothes’ – that is the clothes she had worn when she first arrived.

Her head was spinning. Was this what she had expected? Clearly not. She had seen this as a challenge, a game perhaps.

Now she had done things, she never imagined she would, and right now, a stranger had examined her most intimate parts. Probably to see if she was what he wanted to exploit later.

She had not been able to control her body. She had screamed, begged, cried and asked for mercy. She had had one orgasm after another – all controlled by someone outside herself.

She had offered herself freely to be used as a means of avoiding punishment. She had not touched her most intimate parts for a very, very long time – but everyone else had. Now she could feel the softness of her breast against her lower arms. It felt good.

The most surprising thing: She had felt proud to endure!

Now all that lacked was that she would feel proud to serve – but that would never happen she swore.
She had learned to obey – the hard way, and she would carry on doing so, till she met up with John, whom she was sure would get her out.

She no longer wanted to write the story. It had come to close to her, too personal. She might write a book at a much later date – but at the moment, she just wanted to get back to her normal life.

She was surprised that she acted almost on reflex. Her ‘training’ had made her do things without thinking – even things of the most intimate and sexual nature – that she would never have thought possible.

Just a short while before, she had been a fiercely independent woman absolutely in control of her own emotions and actions, and deciding solely who could do what to her. Now all that was taken away from her.

At the same time, she realized she was without responsibility. She just left all decisions to someone else, and did what they wanted. Strange how the world would turn upside down in a very short period.
She fell asleep while her head was spinning – full of conflicting thoughts.

When she woke, Jeanette and Yvonne informed her, that she had been sleeping for 16 hours. She had been totally out, and felt somewhat rested and recuperated.

She met John for the first time, but it turned not out as she had expected.
Lonnie, Jeanette and Yvette were supervising her breakfast. She was in her cuffs. Apparently a permanent thing. They even stayed on when she took a bath or was washed.

John and another man came in.
She looked up and smiled. He returned her smile, and said: “Stand up!” in a commanding tone.
She tried fixing her eyes at him, but he discretely put a finger to his mouth, signalling for her to keep quiet.
He also pointed a finger at the other man. This was not the time or place to start talking about how she could get out of there.

Yvonne and Jeanette went out, but Lonnie stayed.

As she stood beside the bed, John went behind her, swung his arms around her torso, and grabbed her breasts, using them to hold her close to him.
He whispered in her ear: “Spread your legs!”
Automatically she did so.

The man in front of her stuck his hand in her crotch and began caressing her. His fingers sliding in and out of her opening. She was – again involuntarily – wet and excited.

The man nodded at John, who whispered: “Sit on the bed!” and directed her down.
He took her wrists and pulled her down on her back, holding her arms stretched out over her head.

He leaned over her and looked at her face.
She was panting, and gasped: “Oh, no!” as the other man spread her legs. Her butt lying on the edge of the bed.
John smiled and looked her straight in the eyes.

A loud ‘Ahhhh’ followed by an arching of her body as the man trust into her in one long, slow movement.

“Please. Please!” she whispered, but John held on, and the man started to move his body in circles, his public hair tickling her nude skin. Slowly, very slowly he began to move in and out, at first in very small movements, but then more and more, and faster and faster. She could hear him panting.

John bent down, let his lips meet hers, opened her and started to play with her tongue.
She sucked hard on his tongue.
Small ‘mmmm’ sounds emanated from deep down inside her. She began moving her hips in tune with the penis inside her.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Lonnie watching with interest.
Between exploring her mouth with his tongue – and feeling her hungry response, he moved his head a little up and watched her getting more and more aroused. Her head going from side to side and her mouth uttering small cries and moans. Once in a while she moaned: ‘No. No. Please!”
But john just enjoyed her increasing excitement.

Wilder and wilder she was pounded, till the man came with a loud outburst. She felt his warm load spray inside her and his member almost jumping up and down as it released his semen.

Gradually he slowed down – until he withdrew. John released his grip on her wrists, got up, and they both left her lying there panting, and feeling small drops of semen dripping out of her.

So much for letting her have sex with other men, she thought. She realized that John could not acknowledge her, as there were too many people in the room, but still the whole thing puzzled her. He had enjoyed seeing her having sex with the unknown man, and had studied her face carefully as she had her orgasm.

She fit into her new role. Jeanette or Yvonne – and sometimes both always accompanied her. She was not issued a dress like theirs. Instead she was still a novice in training, which meant that wore the electro-collar – and it was often used. The remote was in a little, locked box attached through an opening in her dress to the front of her corset.

When the remote was used for training purposes, she could handle it. It was just a question of being obedient and fast, but sometimes a Master would use it just to see her squirm and convulse – and that was really terrible, as she had no influence on it, but had to endure till the Master had had enough fun with her.

She wore a black, latex-dress. It was short, very short. It stopped just below her crotch, so that when she sat down or kneeled, it exposed her opening. When she bent forward, the dress slid up to the middle of her buttocks, showing both her openings.
It had quarter cups – or maybe even less to support her breasts. Designed to lift and part them. As one of the Masters remarked: “It displays your breasts beautifully. Lifting, parting and pointing them out. Like they are asking for our attention”. No question of them belonging to the Masters. She had not touched her own breasts – or any of her openings since she came to this place. Even though she had her hands free most of the time now, she was careful not to touch herself in these places – not even by accident.

One day in the long hallway on the second floor, she had stood by the window and looked out. She had lifted her arm to open the window. A passing Master had mistaken it for her trying to touch her breasts, and she was immediately asked to stand at attention, hands on her back, legs spread, while he administered five lashes with his riding crop across her breasts. She had to count the lashes, as was often the case, and he gave her time in between to pull herself together from the pain, so that she could count out the next number of the stroke.

Afterwards she had to thank him – as always. Never mind how hard she was whipped, cropped or lashed, she always had to say: “Thank you, Sir!” afterwards in a loud, clear and strong voice.

Above the quarter-cups the dress had a Strap going from the sides of her breasts around the back of her neck, and another one in the middle ending just below he front of her neck. Three diagonal straps between the one from the side of her breast to the one in the middle on each side, perfectly framed and emphasized her pointed, separated breasts.

The back was bare down to the point were her corset started, efficiently covering it. The dress also had an elastic part in each side so that it would follow the corset tightly and at all times show her thin waist.

In the beginning she felt comfortable having just a little clothing on her body, but very soon she realized that the design of the dress was just to expose and emphasize her intimate parts in the best possible way.

She still had the nasty dildo in her ass! After a couple of days, a Master stopped her in one of the hallways. Had her kneel down, and removed the dildo to ‘try her out’ – it was still painful, and she could not help giving sounds of pain as he fucked this opening.

He decided, she should wear the biggest size – and so was it. It was much, much worse. The rod was large. She had to oil it herself, and hold herself open as he pressed it inside her. At first the relatively small point, but it rapidly expanded her more and more till it was all in and the sphincter felt like bursting. He had her thank him as usual and left her crying on all four on the floor.

A few days later, she was again tried out, and declared satisfactory. Even though it felt like a very long time, it was actually a very short period she had been wearing the expanders. Having never had – and never expecting to have anal-sex, she was now ready and free for all, that would want to use her in this way and she did not mind. She was just happy that the dildo-system was off.

So were a lot of Masters. In the following days she was used more in this opening than her other two together.
In the future, she often wore – or rather was forced to wear – a dildo in her back opening, but it was just a ‘preparation measure’ intended to make her ready and flexible for later use the same day.

Her days looked alike. She was awoken sometime during the morning, had an enema, washed, and was made ready by Yvonne or Jeanette or both – under the watchful eye of Lonnie.
She had breakfast sitting on the edge of her bed, and followed one or both of the women round the place, as they did their chores.
Usually serving the men at late breakfast, lunch or dinner, and in between doing light cleaning. Sometimes they were ‘rewarded’ by being told to have a walk round the garden.

She got to see the place from inside and out. It was an old boarding school for girls (very apt!). A square, non-descript building, but with all the facilities, ‘The Society’ needed: Big rooms for social gatherings, small rooms on long hallways for the women etc. etc.

The garden was spacious, had lots of small hedges, benches and strange marble figures. A very tall wall surrounded it. She really wanted to see what was on the other side, but of course that was not possible. One of the girls told her – in one of their whispering sessions in the garden – that the place included a large area of agricultural land around it. This land was leased to a farmer. So should one ever be able to get over the wall, or in any way get outside, one would have nowhere to go – and a very long walk to the nearest ‘civilisation’.

She had also noticed some large dogs held in a kennel at the front of the place. Another girl told her that it was tracker dogs, and they only kept them in case a woman should escape. The big creatures would quickly and mercilessly catch up with any stray woman trying to reach the outside world. This had never been the case though.
These dogs were let out at night, and efficiently prevented intruders from entering – and anyone inside venturing out.

She never knew when she would be required to serve. It could be a chance meeting with a Master in the halls or in the garden, it could be when she helped serving evening coffee in The Great Hall or anywhere she encountered a Master or Mistress.

She feared the command: “Cat. Come here.” Which was often the prelude to either sex or pain – or both.
Even when she was sleeping in her room at night, one or more Masters would sometimes enter and demand her to serve. She never knew when or where – and she never felt safe from use.

To her surprise, she learned that all the women she had whispering conversations where here of their own free will. Some had been admitted through their personal Masters. Having dabbled a little with BDSM, and jointly decided to take it to the next step, some just volunteered and had gotten in contact through, what one girl called ‘The Network’. All of them had started their stay in the very cellars, she dreaded, and none of the girls mentioned this place without a shiver in their voices.

There were rumours that one or two girls had at one time been taken back to the cellars after a short period outside in the general area. The Masters had decided they had not been sufficiently broken in.

Although Cat also believed that it was indeed a rumour, it kept the possibility of being taken back to the cellars as a scary prospect in the back of her mind all the time.

The two women that had started out with her: Hayley and Michelle – each came from different sides. Michelle had been brought here by her Master, but Hayley was a ‘single-volunteer’ – maybe that was why she had already been crying at the posts on the first evening? It was probably not what she had expected – but who had expected this harsh initial training. Maybe she had been a member of one or more of the Clubs, maybe she had seen ‘The Story of O’, or that pre-puberty film: ‘Fifty Shades’ and thought it would be a romantic adventure. It was nothing like that. This was the real deal.

She crossed paths with both of them from time to time – and they both seemed to be just like her, and dressed the same way. They never spoke, but she was sure they had been occupying chambers next to hers in the basement, and been submitted to much the same treatment.

They both held their heads high. Hayley had apparently gotten over her first fear and disappointment and turned into an almost fully trained slave – as herself and Michelle.

Chapter seven
Appealing
The next time, she ran into John was in the long hallway, and he was alone. Even if she – as a novice – was not allowed to wander around unescorted, she had excused herself to Jeannett and Yvonne in the garden for a quick visit to the toilet inside to get a cold splash of water on her face and hands, as it was a very warm day.
She knew that if she stayed away too long a Master might come by and notice and then both she and her two companions would be punished.

She took a quick look round to ensure no one was coming and approached him.
“At last! You got to get me out of here!” she started the conversation – again looking round to see if anybody was coming.
“Its’ not that easy!”
“What do you mean? I don’t want to stay here a minute longer!”
“Its difficult. I can’t just get up and announce that I am taking you out. You must understand, I have signed papers like yours. Turning all the control I might have had over you over to ‘The Society’.”
She realized the truth in his words. Of course they had made him sign similar papers to hers in order to avoid exactly the situation, she was now trying to create.

A door opened at the far side and a Master appeared, walking along the hallway.
John laid a hand on her breast and began caressing her.
“Stop that”, She hissed between her teeth!
He whispered back: “We have got to make this look believable. Why would I be standing here with a slave making polite conversation? Besides he might pass us by when he sees that I have claimed your interests for the time being”.
It was a better solution than having the Master coming over and demanding some sort of service from her. She hoped they could continue the conversation when he had passed.

A polite good morning was exchanged between the two men, and the Master walked to the other end, and went out.

John’s hand stayed on her breast. His thumb just sliding over the top of her tit.
“So you mean I have to stay for the duration?”
“I don’t see any other way. Do you?”
She thought about it for a moment: “Not really. No!”

Then she felt anger rise inside her: “Look here. I’ve been fucked in all openings, they have ‘modified’ my body by this ghastly corset, and my anus has been violated and expanded! I want to get out.”
His hand was still busy with her breast. Now he smiled at her anger, and grabbed her round her waist with both hands.
“It actually suits you!” He said. “Your body has a whole different proportion now – very sexy.”
“Oh. You think so. You just try being locked in this thing, and feeling it getter smaller every day – not to mention my time in that torture chamber downstairs!”

“Well. You wanted to experience it. Where’s all the daring-do you displayed before coming here? It was your own decision. You found ‘The Society’! You wanted to go all in – and that’s apparently what you’ve got.”

She contemplated this for a while. Then settled down slightly: “I suppose you are right. I took the decision., however stupid that was. Now I have to live with it.”
“Come on. Cheer up. I bet you it is not that bad. When have you last have had carefree sex without any responsibilities, and judging from the other morning – you quite seem to enjoy yourself?”

She had to admit that as his face had been a few inches from hers, when she had had an explosive orgasm with a total stranger – as so many times before during her stay here.

His hands had now moved – one was on her breast, the other exploring her crotch.
“Stop That!”
“No. I can feel your enjoying it. Have you thought about the fact that you are constantly wet and slightly agitated?”
She started panting slightly: “No…but…now you…mention it (gasp)…I have not…(sigh)experienced be-be-being d-d-dry at any time….Strange(gasp)”
“Maybe it’s the idea that you are always open and free for all? I have not met a woman here, that is not ready to be had immediately!”

Ignoring the fact that he had been with a lot of other women, she slid an arm around him and looked up at him: “Kiss me!” She said. “Make love to me – but do it gently, please. So I know you still love me – in spite of everything!”
“That’s better. Now you know you are not supposed to ‘top-from-the-bottom’, but this time I will let it pass without any punishment.” He smiled. Then he let his lips meet hers.
She just had time to wonder if he meant that last sentence in earnest, before submitting to him.

They made love right there. He pressed her up against the wall.
“She felt happy – strangely enough. He still loved her – in spite of everything. He was going to help her through the rest of her stay, and if he found a way out for her, she was sure he would use it immediately.” She swung one leg around his body and more than helped him move in and out of her.

He pressed her against the wall till his penis slackened and fell out by itself. The small drops of semen tickling as they ran down the insides of her legs.
He waited till their breathing was almost back to normal then let her go.

Without further words, she turned and hurried to one of the small toilets located strategically around the place. Cleaned herself up, and went out to find Yvonne and Jeanette. She found them at the place she had left them in the garden – with two Masters. They were kneeling in front of them and very busy with their mouths and hands and the Master’s genitals.

She knew they had been found out, and that her two ‘companions’ now tried their best to appease the Masters – and avoid being punished.

One of the Masters looked up at her, pointed to a spot next to the marble bench and said: “Kneel!”
She was blushing as she quickly assumed the usual position: Hands crossed on her back, knees spread wide, and eyes focused on a spot on the ground about a meter away.

When the Masters had emptied their loads and carefully checked that not a drop was spilled but the girls had swallowed it all, they were punished anyway. One by one. Yvonne was first. She was told to stand and open her dress. She did so with her hands, and looked into the ground.

She got five hard strokes with a riding crop across her stomach. She was given time to compose herself after each stroke, and had to count them. Jeanettt had the same treatment.

Then it was her turn. She was told to lift her dress up, and as she stood with her legs spread and held her dress, the Master slowly moved the crop back and forth – just touching her skin – then made the first stripe across her stomach. The pain went into her brain like a nail.
She bit her lips, tried not to scream and composed herself. Then said: “One.” As loud as she could.

Again the braided, leather crop touched her skin a few times – and again she almost jumped when the stroke hit her. Red spots danced before her eyes, and it took quite a while before she could call out “two”.

She got five strokes – and then one extra for good measure. After the fifth stroke she had sighed deeply and begun to relax, but then he had given her the extra stroke – without any preparation and warning, surprising her and hurting terrible as it was placed diagonally across the rapidly developing welts on her stomach.
It made her give out a short shriek – and she could taste the blood as she had bit hard on her own lips.
Tears ran down her cheeks and she was shaking a little from the soaring pain.

He waited for her to say: “Thank you, Sir.” Which she did with some stutter and vibrato in her voice, then he turned and left with his friend.

It had been a mild punishment, so they were happy to get away with it. She knew she had to stay close to her ‘companions’ at all times, so she accepted the strokes as a just punishment - as did the two others.

She was happy knowing that John had not deserted her. Her step also had a new spring to it and a smile was on her face.

Chapter eight
Mistress K – and contemplating her life
In the cellar she had experienced a few female Mistresses. It had generally not been a very positive experience. They had treated her harsher and more strict than the men. They whipped with skill and inflicted a lot of pain, as they knew exactly where a woman had her most sensitive spots.

Often they had brought along a male slave that had been used on her.
Everybody had been masked, so she could not know one Mistress from another. However, coming out in the open, she now often saw Mistresses, even though she and her companions did what they could to avoid them. Serving at meals gave them no place to hide, and here Mistresses often punished them for the smallest violation of the rules – quick and hard.

She had noticed Mistress K, who always seemed to have one of the few male slaves on tow – usually by a cord round the balls. The male slaves were never clothed, had a corset like the girls, cuffs and collar, and very often wore a mask.

At their first encounter at ‘The Society’, she had been surprised, as she identified Mistress K as the photographer who had taken the pictures of her in The Beauty Parlour at the beginning of her quest.

On one of her first days out, she ran into Mistress K. They were walking in opposite directions in the garden.
Cat was with Jeanette, and Mistress K was with her usual male slave on tow.

“Ah. The new one. Come here, my dear!” She said friendly enough.
She approached. Mistress K looked up and down her body: “Small, but exquisite. Just like I remember you. Lovely. I’ll teach you a lesson, my dear.”

She felt the hair stand up on her head, and expected some sort of painful experience, but instead, she ordered her male slave to sit down on one of the marble benches, spread his legs and sit still. After which she put a blindfold round his masked head.

She then directed Cat in how to give a proper blowjob.

She showed her the soft skin behind the balls. Skin that was sensitive to the slightest slide of the nails.
Directed her attention to the small opening in the front of his member, an opening that was very sensitive to the tip of her tongue.
The place right behind the forehead, where her lips could close around the member.
She showed her how to gradually stiffen the member by the use of lips and tongue, and a lot of other small tricks. She also showed her that a determined press with a thumb and forefinger on the top and bottom of the stiff penis, reduced the erection, so that she could bring him up again without him coming.
De facto controlling his orgasm.

In the end she allowed her slave to come, and watched as Cat swallowed all of it, directed her to ‘clean’ it properly with her tongue, and ending the lesson with an instruction of how to use her lips to get the foreskin back over the now relaxed head.

“Very good, my dear. I hope to see you use your new technique – and I am sure you will be very proud of the results. You are a quick learner. Now don’t let me see you just moving in and out over a man’s member the next time I meet you!”
“No Mistress.”

As she dragged her slave away, Jeanette whispered: “Mistress K is one of the good ones. She is always willing and eager to educate us. Just listen and learn!”
Strangely enough she did not think it awkward that she had just had a lesson in giving head in the best possible way.

A few days later she was lying chained in her bed not being able to sleep. She knew that any sleep available to her should be taken, and taken with gratitude. Part of the training – as earlier explained – was that the girls should never feel safe or secure from use. Therefore she was often woken up in the night, whipped and/or fucked before being allowed back to sleep.

This night she was tired but could not simmer down and fall asleep. She thought of the strange transformation that had taken place in her mind. The way the dress put her on display had made her feel more than naked at first, but after a few days it was quite natural for her to walk around like that.

Being looked over by most of the Masters, she met on her way, and very often being asked to serve with one opening or another actually made her a little proud.

She was much in demand, and held her head high. That is as high as she dared, since the women were to look at the Master and servants crotch at all time, and never in their eyes or faces.
The Masters – and Mistresses – crotch was the area they were here to serve – with their whole body and full attention.

She was used to the corset by now. It had apparently reached the desired size, since it was not tightened more, just kept at the same tightness. When she was naked, she could clearly see how her waist was permanently thinner – to an extreme degree.

She thought that she would probably get her old shape back quickly when she had gotten rid of the corset – that is when she was out of the place and could make decisions on her own again.
She did feel rather sexy, when she was without the corset at short intervals in the mornings.

Her medium sized breasts, slightly heavy contrasting her slim, delicate waistline.
Her hips looking wider and more inviting, and when she looked at her back in the mirror, her behind now seemed to start at her waist, and have a nice pear-shaped look.

Straight after the first degrading evening at ‘The Society’ she had thought they would never get her down, and had never imagined she would feel the way she did now.
Her ‘abstract’ life at ‘The Society’ had become the norm. She quickly knew which Masters could be persuaded into not punishing her for a violation. To these Masters, she would kneel quickly with her mouth wide open and her tongue out, awaiting their order to suck them dry. Usually that would be enough to avoid punishment.

She also knew which Masters not to try this ploy on. Some would let her give the head, and then punish her; some would reject it, and give her an even harder punishment than she was entitled to initially.

She was much in demand. A lot of the Masters – and Mistresses had eye for her small body. It also gave her some pride to be so popular – again something she had never thought possible.

One Master even praised her. An evening when she was told to give him head, he stated: “What she lacks in skills, she compensates for with enthusiasm.”
‘No wonder, she thought”. Her incentive was that a non-satisfactory blowjob would release an immediate punishment – and that drove her to do her utmost.

Chapter nine
Trying the ‘O’-punishment
Some punishments were left for the evening – after supper. The slaves that had been noted for larger violations of the rules, or just listed to get a bigger punishment than the quick and short whipping so quickly administered on the spot for smaller violations.

The slaves were presented by the fireplace in The Great Hall – one by one – and had to say what their violation was, upon which a suitable punishment was measured out and given.

After about 4 or 5 days out of the cellar, she stood in her own thoughts in the garden. Yvonne was busy lying on one of the marble benches, face down – as a Master were using her back opening.

She stood a little uneasy, moving her feet around, and without realizing it, she had put her legs together.
A Master Just passing saw her, pointes with the end of his crop to her legs and said: “Cat! You will report for punishment after dinner!” He walked on as if nothing happened. She pushed her feet apart, but it was too late, he was gone.

In the evening, she had to get up and stand in the line, when it was called out: “Slaves for punishment line up now!”

She was number 3 in the line. The first one had been caught talking to other slaves more than once. She was sentenced to wear a locked dildo gag for 3 days, except when eating. The gag was inserted, and she was sent away.

The next one had grabbed a Masters hand by reflex as he was trying to put it in her crotch. She was sentenced to sit on the horse for 1 hour every evening for three days.

This needs some explanation. The Horse was a modern edition of the ‘wooden horse’ used in the old days for punishment. It did not have a sharp edge on which the unfortunate had to ride, but a fairly soft, padded but narrow edge. The punishment in this case was the dildo in the middle of the horse. Usually a rather large model fat and long, that hurt to get inside you. The unfortunate had to stand on two small boxes – one on each side. With her hands locked on her back she had to lower herself on the dildo. When she was all down, the boxes were removed and the ankles were strapped tight to rings on the floor or to heavy weights.

To make it even more uncomfortable, the arms on her back where often raised by a rope though a pulley in the ceiling. The poor slave would then be locked in a permanent forward position, arms stretched to the max, and legs pulled down.

She had not tried this, but the thought alone sent shivers down her spine.

Then it was her turn.
“Cat. What’s’ your offense!”
“I forgot to have my legs spread, and accidentally happened to hold them close together, Sir. I am very sorry. I will not do it again, Sir”

She tried pleading, but knew at this stage, she had no way of avoiding punishment.

“We will make sure you remember, Cat. You will have 5 minutes of whipping on the ironing board – and then be left for an hour to contemplate your offense.”

She did not know what the ironing board was, but was certain that it was unpleasant.
Yvonne clicked her hands together on her back, Jeanette put a leash on her collar, and together the pulled her off.

She heard a voice behind her: “Who will administer the punishment?”
She did not hear the answer, but before they were out of the room, a Master was following close behind.

As soon as they entered the room, she saw the ‘board’, and she knew:
It was an exact copy from ‘The story of O’: An ironing board-like platform in the middle, and two posts wide apart on each side. She knew there was no point in protesting or struggling. It would only make matters worse for her, so she willingly sat on the edge of the board. Yvonne and Jeanette dragged her backwards, then released her hands and locked them again in front of her in order to pull them over her head and down behind her.

Her upper arms were resting on the board, but her forearms went vertical down behind it. Yvonne connected a strap and tightened it to something further down making the cuffs cut into her wrists.

Her legs were bent and stuck up in the air Chains were attached to her ankle cuffs, and with a clanking sound she was spread wide and up. They kept pulling till her behind lifted off the board, and then left her alone with the Master.

In the usual ceiling mirror she could see herself in the helpless position. She heard the swishing sound of the cane as he tried it a few times in the air.

He let his hands slide over the exposed insides of her legs.
“Well this will make certain that you don’t put your legs together for the next couple of days. I will start the clock.”

A ticking noise began.

He started just below her left knee. Rapidly he swung the cane against her skin. Each time a little lower than the last. Until he almost reached her opening. Then he switched to the other leg, and starting just above her opening worked his way up to below her other knee.

Then he changed the angle a little and worked his way back to the starting point.

Another change of angle and another run and so on.

When he started on the second round she began moaning. The angle-change made the whip cross the path of the first round causing an almost unbearable pain.

As he passed the third time, she was struggling, begging, crying, screaming and using all her strength trying to avoid the cane. He was so good that he followed her movements and only a few strokes went wrong – some of which hit her opening. She suspected that it was on purpose.

When the clock finally rang she was in a red haze of pain. Her body was shivering completely out of control, and she was sobbing loudly.

His face appeared in front of her.
“Now. Thank me!”
Her lips were shivering. She could hardly stutter a ‘Thank you, Master” between sobs and shivers.
“Good girl!” he said and stroked her cheeks.

He set the clock again before he went out.

She spent the next hour looking at her reflection in the overhead mirror – spread helpless open. She had an excellent view of the stripes that were developing on her legs, and because her head was stuck between her upper arms, she could not look away.

She was very relieved when the girls came and took her down. They brought her to one of the small toilets, and did their best to wipe her tears, repair her makeup, and put ointment on the stripes on her inner legs.

Coming back into The Great Hall the rest of the day’s punishments had been done. The girl on the horse was moaning slightly. Not only had they strung her arms up almost vertically, but had also supplied her butt with a series of strokes – quite visible as they were blue and red and stood out in little welts.

As a couple of girls – directed by a Master – took the poor girl down from the horse, she moaned even more. Cat closed her eyes, and felt happy that her punishment had been done – and felt very, very sorry for the poor girl now being taken down from the horse. She could look forward to tomorrow evening, when she was to have another hour of this – and then a third evening.

Grabbing a Masters arm as he was going to put it in her crotch - even though it might have been a reflex - was clearly one of the more serious offenses - and Cat was sure the poor girl would not forget the lesson.

She quietly slid down into kneeling position a bit away from the fire. The heat made her whip marks burn.
She was called to the table. A few of the Masters admired and caressed her marks. Even John had a look at her.
“Is she yours?”
“Yes!”
“Wonderful little thing. You must be proud of her?”
“I certainly am. She is a little gem!”
“Now go sit with the others again. You have had enough fun for one evening,” John said.
She felt he saved her from more attention by this remark and sent him a grateful look as she descended in the group of slaves at the fireplace.

Chapter ten
Lonnie
After about a week, she was left with Jeanette, while Yvonne was sent away on other duties. She knew that her two companions were trusted slaves, and used to introduce the newbies and they had been her companions all the way till now.

Jeanette began teaching her to do her own makeup. By now it was her quite normal look. At first she had felt like she looked like a cheap prostitute, but now it came naturally for her to have that look. The bright red, the shining wet-look. She was being prepared to take care of herself.

Lonnie was still her ‘keeper’. He had not touched her since the first day, and she liked the way, he always ended all orders with ‘please’. He was gentle, but did whip and cane her on orders from time to time.

One evening, Jeanette had left and she was alone with Lonnie.
A Master stuck his head in the door: “Lonnie. Give her six lashes on the top back of her legs before putting her to bed!”
“Yes, Sir!”
Then the Master disappeared again.

She thought ‘I might see if I can do something about that.’
He was sitting on the bed waiting for her to finish in the bathroom. She went up to him, and Gently pushed his legs apart, and then descended on her knees between them.

She looked up at him and smiled. She was sure he was not prepared for this.

She put her hand forward and let a finger touch the foreskin of his slack penis while looking him in the eyes.
She waited for some kind of signal to stop, but he just sat there.

Her other hand moved forward, and a finger began sliding softly over his balls.
She licked her lips with the point of her tongue.

She lifted his penis careful gently with one hand and cupped his balls with the other. While rotating the balls gently in their sack with her fingers, she slowly leaned forward. He was already reacting. She felt the penis slowly filling with blood.

Using her lips to nipple at the foreskin and letting the tip of her tongue just touch and play with the little opening at the end, she kept on caressing his balls. He leaned back and gave a deep sigh.

Slowly she made him hard, and pushed the soft skin back with her lips, millimetre by millimetre, till she had her mouth round the back of the head. Now she sucked. First gently then harder and harder.
He gasped loudly. She sent Mistress K and her lessons a kind thought and proceeded.

She stretched out the middle finger on the hand holding his balls. Scraping the nail gently over the skin behind them.

Pushing her head down, his now half erect rod went to the back of her throat. She felt his pubes hair against her face and her larynx being pushed against her palate.

They were in sync. His hand caressed the top of her head, and she brought him up slowly. When she felt he was getting to tense, she withdrew, pressed hard on both sides of the end of the head, making his erection smaller, then proceeded to tease him again. She kept this on for a long time, till he lost patience, grabbed her head with both hands and moved in and out of her with increasing speed.

When he came with a loud cry, she stopped, kept the bobbing penis half way in her mouth as she sucked hard till he had used his load.

Slowly she brought him down again. Ending by releasing his private parts from her mouth and hands. She smiled and looked up at him as he regained control over himself – licking a few drops of semen off her lips.

He leaned over her, grabbed her hands and clicked them together.
“I’m sorry, Cat, but they will be checking for marks in the morning. Please stand up.”

Stunned she got to her feet. He helped her up on the bed, grabbed the end of the chain and connected it to her locked wrists. She stepped up to the end wall and lifted her chained arms over her body.

He got off the bed, went round it, undid the end of the chain from its hook on the wall and pulled her arms over her head.
She inhaled the faint, perfumed smell of the wallpaper as her body was stretched out tight against the wall and her heels slightly up from the surface.

She had a few moments when he went to the rack at the door and got the crop. She stood there and thought: ‘Of course they will check for marks. She had tried this many times before, and always had to show the result at breakfast the next day. ‘How stupid of me!’

Still it had been a moment of relaxation – and she had quite enjoyed it – amazingly enough.

He tried the cane a few times in the air, and she closed her eyes as she heard the familiar sound.
Then he stepped up on the bed, placed his hand on her back, pressing her against the wall.
He said: “I’m sorry, Cat. Very Sorry. Please forgive me!”

She felt the almost tickling sensation when he hit a spot just under her buttocks horizontally a few times – quite gentle. A second later a stinging pain shot across the back of her legs, and sent a blood red ray up inside her body and into her brain.
She made a hissing noise, and her body shivered slightly for a moment.

When she was still again, she felt the cane begin to do its little dance on a point slightly below the throbbing spot on her legs, followed a second later another ray of pain went through her body.
This time she took a little longer composing herself. He waited patiently till she was still and the only sound that was heard in the room was her quiet whimpering as tears began to run down her cheeks.

The third stroke made her cry out. Not very loud but enough for him to sense the pain he had inflicted on her body. She had problems making her body stop shivering, but eventually got it under control, only to get the fourth stroke.

The back of her thighs was burning now. From a point right under her buttocks till about half way down.
She pressed her face against the wall and gritted her teeth as the fifth stroke caused her almost to jump from the pain. The chain rattled as she convulsed.
Tears now ran freely down her cheeks and she was sobbing loudly.

After the sixth and final stroke, it took her almost a minute to get her body under control.

During that time, he took his hand off her back, went down from the bed, hung the cane back on the rack, and walked over to release the end of the chain. The wear marks on the chain told him where to attach it, and he slid it slowly through his hands, letting her body slide down along the wall and into a crumbled heap on the bed.

This was no punishment. The Master had just decided that she needed a whipping to go to sleep on.
She was used to the random whipping and caning by now. Sometimes there was a reason, sometimes it was just because a Master felt like it, or had some sort of pleasure out of showing his dominance over her. One never knew when one was in for some pain.

She sniffled and sobbed as he lifted her and placed her outstretched, face down on the bed. Then he went to the shelf by the rack. Got the ointment and sat down beside her.

Very, very carefully he distributed the cooling ointment on the welts. Slowly and in rotating movements. She shivered and gasped each time his hand made contact with the sore and almost broken skin.

After having done that – and placed the ointment back on the shelf - he returned, pulled the cover over her, and took her head between his hands.
He kissed her wet cheeks again and again as he whispered: “Forgive me, Cat, forgive me…”

When he had calmed her and she had almost stopped sobbing - and was breathing normally, he got up and left.
In the door he turned round and looked at her. She had curled up and was now a small lump on the middle of the bed. The sheet over her moving slightly as she sniffled quietly.

The next morning the Master had forgotten all about it, and for once she was not asked to show the proof of the nights caning….still…one never knew…

She did ‘admire’ Lonnie’s handiwork on the back of her thighs for the next week: Six almost perfectly parallel lines with almost the exact distance between them – Lonnie was definitely skilled in the art of whipping.

(At a later date, she watched as Lonnie put three coins on the floor with a distance of a few centimetres between them. He had placed himself several meters from the coins, and with a bullwhip managed to hit the middle coin so it flew up and hit the nearest wall – and the two coins on each side of it never moved…!)

Chapter eleven
More evaluation
She often saw John. Most of the times there were people around them, so she had no chance of talking to him. But one day (she was allowed to go round on her own, and had been equipped with her original collar with her name on) she was walking down the main passageway, when he came the other way.

“How are you doing?” He asked.
“Not too bad, considering!” She answered. “I have sort of realized that I have to stick it out.
“How about you article?”
“I don’t think it is a good idea. All things considered,” she answered. “This has been to close, too personal for me to write about and make public.”
“What do you mean?”
“I never thought it would be like this – but – you know – I feel quite comfortable from time to time. I’m beginning to get used to this life – and maybe even liking it a little!”
“That was a change. Congratulations. You apparently are reacting very positive to the kind of training and the life represented by this place. What do you find most appealing?”
“The notion of being free of any responsibility. The idea of my body being for everybody’s enjoyment – and that gives me a lot of enjoyment. After the tuff time in the cellar at the beginning, it has been kind of smooth sailing! You will never believe this, but I feel like I fit well into the life of a slave…. to my own amazement!”
“What is the worst?”
“The strict discipline. I don’t like the punishments. Although the element of mixing pleasure with pain is something new and very, very exciting to me!”
“…but you realize they have to maintain strict discipline – otherwise it would not be real training – just pretence..?”
“I suppose so. Look out someone’s coming.”

A Master approached, ignored her and started a conversation with John.
After a while he suddenly looked at her: “You are keeping your lips together, bitch!”
Immediately she dropped to her knees and looked down at the floor.

He said: “All right then.”
She started fondling his member, but did not get very far, when he said: “Stop! You better see to John. After all he was here first.”

Blushing she let go, turned on her knees and started on John – to the best of her abilities.
The Master kept looking, so she had to continue. John was leaning against a low cabinet, which he grabbed hard with both hands as she did her best.

When he was almost coming, the Master behind her began whipping her behind. Each swish made her jump a little and his stiff penis move about in her mouth.

When he emptied inside her, the Master stopped whipping.
“Now bitch. You have had the best of both worlds. You have given a satisfactory head, and received a satisfactory punishment.”
She looked down on the floor: “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master!”
“Good girl!”
He walked away.

John embraced her, gave her a long kiss tasting of his own semen before excusing himself and leaving her to clean up at the nearest toilet.

Chapter twelve
Exposure
Sometimes a Master took one of the slaves to his private rooms. This did not happen often. Most likely as the Masters were just as exhausted as the girls, and needed some free time and space.

She felt that she was popular, as she had had more than her share of these ‘private sessions’. It was easy. Often it was like a normal love evening, with not many demands on her. All the rooms, she had visited, had a longhaired rug beside the bed, where she slept on a long chain. Sometimes the Master would wake up during the night. Call her up on the bed, and make love to her. She was under the impression that at least the older Masters used Viagra, or something similar. All the men seemed to have quite a sexual appetite.

One Master insisted that she would sit at the end of his bed. Tied to a post with a gag in her mouth and her kneeling legs spread with straps. It was most uncomfortable and she did not sleep that night, even though he spent more time watching her than actually interacting with her.

The place also had several ‘private rooms’, where the girls were let in together with one or two Masters. This was more straining. The sessions here usually took some hours, and included a lot of pain.
Senior and trusted Masters had the right to have these private sessions where they could outlive their bondage and sadistic tendencies on the slaves. It never included permanent marks or abuse, but a lot of whipping, clamping and tying up in impossible and painful positions.

After she had been at ‘The Society’ for a month, she was called upon for a private session.
Two Masters took her to a room equipped with a fireplace, a seating arrangement, and a thick short post in the middle.

She was chained to this post. Her legs spread wide by chains to rings in the floor, a belt around her waist, and a connection between the back of her collar and the top of the post. Her elbows where joined behind the post and her wrists were locked together and pulled down hard to a ring on the back of the post.

Finally they inserted one of the very large red ball gags in her mouth. A model with not only a strap behind her head, but also one over her head and under her chin. She knew it was one of the more severe gags that did not allow any sound out of her mouth only garbled noises from her throat.

She was left there for a long while. Then the door opened behind her.

“Hello Cat!”
Her eyes widened. It was George. Her editor, but what was he doing here, and in a Master outfit. Within a few seconds it dawned on her: He had been a member all along.

She made strange sounds.
“Yes, yes. I see that you are surprised! Good! I hear you are becoming a good and obedient little slave.”
He let his thick fingers slide over her shoulder.

“I’ve been looking forward to his for a long time. You see, when you suggested going under cover here. I had already been talking to your lover, John, who used his persuasive ability to plant the idea in your little head. There was never going to be any article. We decided that since you were so eager to try this life, we would give you the full packet. Fortunately you have responded positively!”

His hand fondled her right breast as he smiled.

“You see the full package is not just this period of training. You will never go back to you old life. When you eventually leave here, you will belong to us. You will go about your day-to-day business, but the main strive in your life will be to be available at our beck and call. Your ass is ours till we decide otherwise.”

He was now fondling both her breasts.
“Ah. Lovely. As I had always imagined.”
She tried to wriggle but had very little room to do so.

He went to the cupboard at the corner of the room, opened it, and looked inside.
“Let’s see. hmmm. This one will be perfect. “
He turned holding a long crop in his hand. He struck a few times in the air, making the familiar sound.

She closed he eyes. This could not be true. They had cheated her. It had all been planned from the beginning, and she had been the willing and stupid victim.
John was not going to rescue her from this. Instead she was left with this man, now preparing to crop her...and he said this was not just for now, but for as long as they saw fit!!

“We better get started then. Are you ready my lovely little journalist?”
She again made noises.
“Yes. Yes. I hear you are.”
He slid the crop along the top of her breast, then under them, then along her stomach.
“Now where should I start…..”

He decided on the front top of her legs.

In small movements the crop went up and down on the same spot on her left leg, till she could not stand it anymore but did her best to scream in spite of the gag.

He went to the other side, and repeated it. Again till she could not stand it anymore.

Then her stomach got the same treatment.

Finally he got to her breasts. Small movements making the crop hit the same spot under her breasts till she screamed, then a quick swash on the top of her breasts.

“I’m not hitting you very hard, my dear.” He said with a smile. “Now for the really fun part”.
He lifted and lowered the crop horizontally just at the nipples. Then swung it with considerable force down making sure it just hit the tip of her nipples. The pain was unbearable.
She started shaking uncontrollable and saliva dripped down from her chin.

“Well we had better do something about the sensitivity in those nipples – haven’t we?”
Another trip to the cupboard produced a set of butterfly nipple clamps.

“One little nipple. Nice is it not? And now the other little nipple! There! Now you look pretty.”
He pulled on the connecting chain. “Interesting device. The more you pull – the tighter they get!”
She squirmed.
“Yes, yes. I know you love it.” He gave the chain another pull.

After a few more trips to the cupboard he had put similar set of clamps on her outer labia, and supplied both sets with round, heavy weights.
Tears now ran freely down her cheeks.

He used his tongue on the end of the nipples.
“Sensitive – right!”
He smiled at her, leaned down and kissed the side of her forehead.

Then went and sat down at the table.
He pressed the intercom: “Could I please have some coffee for room 4.”
“Right away, Sir.” A few minutes later a slave appeared with a tray.
He took his time, drinking the coffee and watching her cry, shiver and squirm in pain.

Then he started over again.

When he finally pushed his stiff member inside her and came, she was absolutely exhausted.
For the first time since she had arrived, she had not been particularly wet – and she had not come! Only felt degraded, cheated and angry.

He whispered in her ear: “I am sure we will have lots’ and lots of fun in the future, my dear.”
When Lonnie came to clean the room up and fetch her, she collapsed in his arms, and was half asleep as he put her to bed.
Lonnie spent extra time caressing her cheeks and forehead while she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
--
She woke slowly, then remembered the night before. It had all been a trick. They had snared her into this. George and John. She was mad – very mad.

Being a practical girl, she calmed down and started to think things through. Obviously she was stuck. Now she did not even had John to hope for. She had to endure the full extent of her stay till they let her go. She decided to play along, and then – when they let her out – she would forget all about this, change her job – she never wanted to see George again – and never, ever think about this for the rest of her life.

She wanted to get hold of John – and give him a piece of her mind! She was possible even more mad at him, than at George.
She did not have to wait long. As Lonnie had released her, helped her wash, do her makeup and served her breakfast, John came in.

She pushed the food cart away, got up and started pounding his chest with both hands, as she screamed at him: “You, you. Bastard! You tricked me into this. You and George. I hate you. You scum…” and so on.

He reacted by quickly grabbing her hands, wringing them on her back and locking them together. While she was still screaming – and kicking, he forced her down on the bed on her stomach – and a minute later a short chain connected her ankles and wrists.

He shut her up by grabbing her hair, and placing his hand over her mouth. She kept wriggling and making sounds as he sat across her back.

“Are you finished now? Will you stop and listen?”
“mmmmphmmmmmm!”
“If you do not pull yourself together, you will find yourself back in the cellar before you can count to two. Do you understand?”

She went limb and nodded.

“I will remove my hand now, so we can talk! Please be calm.”

She knew that she would not be able to use her arms or legs as he let them stay in the locked position, so she used her voice.

“You bastard. Why did you trick me into this? I hate you!”
“Look you volunteered. You signed the papers of your own free will, and so far you have been making the most out of it!”
“I want to go home! Now!”
“Sorry. No can do. One true thing is that we both signed papers, so I can’t help you. You are stuck here, and why don’t you continue to make the most of it till they let you go?”

She thought for a minute, but could not find any other way out.

“I suppose you are right, but you are still a bastard!”
“I know – but I still love you! And now maybe even more than before. You are very attractive in this role. I kind of like it. It is like you are almost more mine, than before!”

He stroked her side gently.

After a short pause where she composed herself, he said: “I feel like I own you. If you get my meaning. Does it make sense?”
“A lot of sense, but only as I know what I know now. I will behave like a good little slave girl, and hope for an early release. Then I’ll decide from there what I want to do!”
“That’s fine. I’ll release you now. Promise to behave yourself?”
“Yes, yes, yes!”

He unlocked her and helped her up and sat her on his lap with one arm around her waist.

“Lonnie! Not a word to anybody of what you just witnessed here! Promise!”
He promised as he looked at her with a mixture of sympathy and devotion.
He had probably seen slave girls in all stages, so it did not impress him very much.

John kissed her gently: “Good girl! Just hang in there! It will soon be over!”

As so many other things he had told her, this was all basically a lie. She later regretted trusting him. Again and again – even though he obviously said what he thought would calm her down and keep her in check – at all times.
It took another two weeks before she realized that.

Chapter thirteen
Owner’s mark
She had now been almost one and a half month at ‘The Society’. She knew everything and everybody in and out, and behaved as the perfect slave at all times. She was still one of the most popular women in the place, and most of the Masters treated her gently and with care.

She ran into Hayley one day. Hayley was radiating happiness as they met in the grand passageway.

“What are you so happy about”, she whispered.
“I’ve gotten my piercings, see.”

Now she noticed the little metal pins in her ears and the ones horizontally through her nipples.
“Beautiful – right!”
“hmmm. I suppose so!”
“But there’s more. Have a look up my nose!” She pulled her nostrils out with her finegrs exposing a small metal plate on both sides of the middle wall in her nose.
“..and there’s even more. Look here!”

Hayley took a quick look in each direction to make sure they were alone, before she bent over and spread her opening with two fingers. Both of her outer labia had metal sticks going through them – and her clit had a horizontal stick through at the base. The hood seemed to have problems sliding into its natural place over the clit.

“What’s the point? No one will se the one in you nose f. inst.”
“Silly girl. This is just the beginning. They will change the pins every two or three days. Each time using a bigger and bigger pin. The result will be holes big enough to accommodate a ring. It will be beautiful and make me feel like a true slave. Besides rings in ones nips is practical. Saves one from at lot of clamping and pain.

Cat shook her head: “You’re crazy. You know that?”

“Not really. I have already had more attention from the Masters than ever before. They love it.”
--
About a week later, she saw Hayley again. Cat was walking along a connecting corridor, when she spotted Hayley standing with her back turned to her. She was without clothes, and her hands were locked to the back of her corset. There was no one else in the passageway, so she hurried up to her.

Getting closer, she noticed a lot of fresh whip-marks on Hayley’s buttocks and the back of her legs. When she was almost there, she saw that Hayley were facing the solid post that was in the middle of the passageway.

“Hi Hayley!” She whispered. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” she answered meekly!”

Cat now saw the reason for Hayley’s position. She had a ring in her nose, rings in her nipples and in her labia and clit. From these rings thin chains connected her to the post. All the chains hanging down in a slack curve.

She was a little shocked. “Ahem! I see you have gotten your rings now!”
“These are only temporary. The final ones will be bigger. They have placed me here, in order for the weight of the chains make me get used to them.”

“What about the whippings. Have you been naughty?” She slid a hand gently over Hayley’s butt, making her shiver.
“That’s part of the deal. Every Master that passes are obliged to use the whip on the wall, and give me a stripe….”
She noticed that Hayley had streaks from tears down her cheeks.
“How awful! Poor you!”
“Yes. The whiplashes make me move. They all hope that I will pull on the chains and rings. It is all part of getting used to them…”

Cat had seen and experienced the special form of punishment where a girl was placed chained at the top of the stairs or another public place – for a whole day usually. Then every Master or Mistress passing would be obliged to use the crop, whip, flogger or cane supplied next to the girl, and give her a stroke.

It was terrible. One waited and hoped that it would take a long while before the next person passed, and when that happened, hoped it would be one that did not put too much force into the stroke.

She noticed the long cane hanging on the wall. Outside Hayley’s reach but close enough for anyone passing by to see it – and use it.

She turned and hurried down the passageway, leaving Hayley to her faith. When she reached the door, she heard footsteps from the other end. She could not help turning round.

A Master came walked down the hallway. Stopped at Hayley’s place. Took the cane from the wall, pulled a little in some of the chains, and administered a hard blow to her butt. Hayley buckled her body in the pain causing the chains to tighten from her crotch and making her cry out.

Quickly Cat disappeared out of the door and hurried away not to be seen by the Master.
--
A few days later, she saw Hayley again. Hayley had joined ‘The Society’ on her own accord, but now she had found a Master – or maybe he had found her.

A large group was in The Great Hall. Enjoying coffee after dinner, and the slaves. She was kneeling next to a Master that had ordered her over at beginning of the evening.

Probably to reserve her for himself for later, and to prevent her being spoken for by another Master. She was quite happy with that. She knew the Master, and could easily satisfy his needs.

Hayley was led in by her new Master. Cat could see that the rings were definitely larger and more shining than the ones, she had seen her wear in the passageway.

The Master proudly held her – by a chain in her nose, and another in her clit-ring!

She was displayed, and examined by a number of men. She got a lot of attention – maybe even too much, Cat thought.

‘Her’ Master leaned over and spoke to her: “Notice how the rings suits her!”
“Yes, Sir!”
“Not only do they make her more desirably, but the effect of the clit-ring gives both her and the man entering her the most satisfying feeling. Imagine how the ring slides along the top of his manhood and the pull it creates in her clit!”
The Master was clearly impressed and aroused by the thought.

They demonstrated – in full view of Cat - how the clit-ring made sure that her clit was always naked, free and visible.

As the night went on, several men required Hayley – and Cat found herself being a little jealous.
‘Her’ Master did make sure that she got the attention, she craved – and she had her fill, when the night wound down, and everybody went to his or her own quarters.

That evening she ‘played up’ to Lonnie more than ever – and succeeded in getting him to fuck her. She used all her skills, and made him come a couple of times, before they finally parted late in the morning. It was just like two ordinary lovers, except she wore the cuffs and collar.

He did not at any time restrain her – and she jumped all over his body, showing him places where he was sensitive. Places he had never imagined.

He looked quite happy and exhausted, when he finally left, and she fell into a deep sleep – with a smile on her lips.

Topping-from- the-bottom was not that bad a concept – were her last thought before closing herself down for the night.
--
A little over six weeks into her stay, she was summoned to The Council. She sat on her spread knees in front of a group of Masters behind a long table. Yvonne and Jeanett stood behind her with their backs to the wall.

The Masters praised her for the way she had adapted to the ways of ‘The Society’, her beauty and willingness to serve. They also praised the ‘modifications’ that had been made to her body: The slim waistline and the accessible anus. They complimented her on her performance while she had been at ‘The Society’.

She blushed at all this appreciation and positive talk.

“Now we are at the point, where we are almost ready to send you out in the world again. On the surface to restart your old life but - as you know - at the core being a full member of our little society. There is, however one last thing, that we will require of you. We will like to mark you; so that everybody will know your status and that you are one of us. Even though you have signed the documents in the beginning of you training, and therefore have no say in the matter, we consider this being such a serious step, that we would like you to accept this at this time. Are you willing to do so?”

There was a long silence, while she thought about it. What could it be? Probably a tattoo of some kind. She had seen several of the girls had their Masters initials tattooed in different places on their bodies: On a breast, on one or both buttocks, over their front and/or over their back opening. If she refused, they might send back to the cellar, but if she accepted, she would be out of here shortly – and she knew that modern laser could easily remove a tattoo these days.

She decided to accept: “I agree, Sir! Thank you, Sir!”

“It gives me great pleasure to hear your answer, Cat. You are a wise slave girl. We will fill in the necessary details in one of the blank, signed documents, you gave us at your entry – and I can inform you, that your Master, John – who is not present at this time – was certain that you would accept.

Yvonne and Jeanette! Take her away!”
“Yes, Master!” They replied in unison. They helped her on her feet, locked her hands on her back in the usual manner and led her out.

On the way she tried to ask them in a whisper, but as they had a Master right behind them, she got no reply.

They came to a room similar to the one; she had been prepared in when first coming to ‘The Society’ – maybe it was the same room?

They new item was an ‘examining board’ like the one in the Beauty Parlour. She asked if it was the same one, and – strangely enough – the Master allowed this. Jeanette told her that it was not, but they had been so impressed with the one at the Beauty Parlour, that they had ordered a few for themselves.

Yvonne presented her with the usual ball gag – although it was not quite the usual. Apart from also having straps under her chin and over her head, it also had a leather piece in front. A piece that buckled over her mouth – and the gag, and with a small cut out on top for bottom of her nose.

It efficiently shut out any noise she might make.

‘They really did not want my comments for this’, she thought, but was still quite calm at the prospect of being tattooed. She thought of the different tattoos, she had seen. They had almost all been ‘line drawings’ – and in a discrete way rather decorative.

To the Masters and Mistresses it was probably beautiful to see these ‘owner markings’ as they used the slaves, but if one should try to have sex with an outsider, the strategic placed tattoos would be impossible to overlook – and would give reason for a lot of questions. It was a very efficient way to claim ownership and avoid the slaves being fucked by ‘outsiders’.

She readily slid her behind on the smooth, white board, and was quickly strapped in the same way as in the Beauty parlour. The only difference was that her hands were not above her head, but down along the sides, and pulled tight by straps to a bar on the lowest part of the scaffold holding the board.

After having lifted and spread her legs in the ‘U-shaped holders, they checked everything, and pumped the board up to a convenient level.

The girls checked all the straps and restraints a second time.

Yvonne’s head appeared in front of her: “You ok, Cat? No problems, nothing too tight?”

The strap over her forehead held her securely between the two round, padded holders. Thus she could not nod – and could only ‘mmmmphmmm’ in reply but as her eyes had a quite normal look, Yvonne accepted this as an answer. They rolled her into the next room – and under a strong overhead light.

Yvonne and Jeanette began wiping her earlobes, continued with her nipples and ended with her outer labia. The wet, soft textile stung slightly and smelled of disinfectant.

Now she began to worry. What were they up to? This did not seem like they were going to tattoo her. She tried her restraints, but her ability to move was next to nothing.

She now regretted having accepted this so willingly – without asking more questions, but it had all summoned down to her eagerness to please, the habit of never speaking or ask questions with out being directly required to do so – and of course her wish to be set free of this place.

She realized the training had been more effective than she thought. Before she would have questioned everything and not stopped till she had the full explanation. She had been a good investigative journalist. Now she accepted anything without further ado!

While she contemplated that, Jeanette and Yvonne had placed themselves on each side of the table. The Master leaned over and came into her view. He sprayed something on her left earlobe. It was very, very cold – almost like ice. Her earlobe went numb immediately. He wore surgical gloves that smelled a bit nauseating of plastic.

He then grabbed the lobe with his thumb and forefinger, slid something looking like a spring-loaded pair of pliers in over the lobe, and pressed it. Releasing it with a loud ‘spronggg!’ She hardly felt it. Her earlobe was numb by the icing spray. She did feel him pulling slightly in the spike he had just inserted in her lobe.

They were going to pierce her!!!! And they started with her earlobe!!! And she had happily accepted it! Like a clown! And John had been sure, she would accept. Of course he had! He knew what an idiot, she was. Now she would have to take the time and trouble to have the piercings – probably rings like Hayley’s - removed.

The Master had moved to her other side, and she soon had a spike through the right earlobe.

The next thing was unpleasant. The gag only allowed her to breathe through her nose, and the pliers went in her nostrils. He was fast, but they were not able to ice her up her nose, so it hurt when her inner nose wall was penetrated.

She almost choked, when he stuck his fingers with the surgical gloves up her nose and felt the plug there.

She knew what was next, when Yvonne and Jeanette made a small dot on each side of each nipple with an instant pen, after which they began sucking on her nipples. Unfortunately she could not prevent them from hardening and standing out. As soon as they felt she was ready they withdrew, wiped her nipples with the disinfectant cloth, iced them, whereupon the Master quickly grabbed each of them in turn. Thumb and forefinger, lift, pliers around them, ‘spronggg’

Her outer labia and clit got the same treatment. All very fast and efficient. Except they could not ice her clit, so it was a really, really deep pain that shot up her body when the spike went through. It faded very, very slowly.

When they released her, the icing was already wearing of and she felt sore on all the points where the steel was inserted through her skin. The points were thumbing with her heartbeat.

Yvonne and Jeanette congratulated her, embraced her, and gave her soft kisses on her cheeks and forehead. The Master allowed her to sit down and examine herself. She sat on a small stool with her legs spread.

It was strange. She tried pulling at one spike in her nipple, and one in the labia, but only dared to stroke her clit very gently with the tip of her forefinger.
--
The next couple of days, her cunt was off limits. She was never touched or used in that opening. Her other two openings were on the other hand, in almost constant use. Her ‘new look’ attracted even more admirers than she had had before. So even if her breasts and vagina was ‘resting’, she was quite sore in her anus and jaws by the constant attention.

The only other time at ‘The Society’, she had experienced anything like it was in the middle of her stay. When she had her period and her front was off limits.

One morning the usual bleeding had begun, and at first she felt happy and lucky, and thought that she would have a few days off, but she was equipped with a ‘diaper’.

It was shaped like a G-string with two exceptions: The front was padded, and the triangle fitted perfectly over her crotch, and instead of one string going up the crack between her buttocks, it had two. One across each buttock.

Thus leaving her back opening free for use. It did not give her the ‘rest’, she thought it would. Her mouth and anus was still available for all. She understood that it was a very practical solution. Just the minimum inconvenience with respect to her status, duties and use!

She had an amble supply of these ‘diapers’ in a drawer in her room – supplied from the central storage.

Now, one might think that she could just take one of these diapers from the drawer, – as it was not locked – put it on, and excuse herself from frontal use, but that situation had been anticipated – and taken care of.

She was ‘colour-coded’. That is, in the front ring of her collar, a small, red-lacquered padlock was dangling.
This was the visible sign that her front was off limits.

In the same way, a black lacquered padlock would indicate that her back door was excluded. F. inst. if she had scratches that needed rest to heal.

In very rare instances, a yellow padlock was used. This indicating that the mouth was off limits.

Once or twice she saw girls walking around plugged in all three openings, and wearing all three padlocks – probably as a punishment.

In the little box or container all the Masters wore in their belts held assorted smaller items – among them sets of coloured padlocks.

One never doubted that the control of ones openings was theirs – fully and at all times.

After her piercing – she wore the red padlock – for all to see that her front opening was off-limits and the piercings needed time to settle.

(In the middle of her stay, she also had another contraceptive injection. She passively accepted it, and presented her shoulder to the woman holding the syringe.)

Day two she had a visit in the morning in her room – by Jeanette, Yvonne and the Piercing Master. They exchanged all the steel pins with new ones – slightly bigger than the first set.

It was done like this:
A special pair of pliers was used to pull one end of the barbell piercing off. Then – by hand – the new barbell, which was hollow and fitted snugly over the old one – was slid in over it between the stick and her skin.

As the new one was just that much thicker and hollow, it passed over the first spike with ease – expanding the hole.
The old one was then pulled – by hand from the other side, and the pliers were used to ‘cap’ the new barbell.
It worked on all piercings – except the nose one. It did not have a barbell, but two flat plates in each end. Therefore it was necessary to remove it completely with another special set of pliers, before inserting a new and thicker model.

It was the least pleasant of the operations and made her sneeze, to which both Yvonne and Jeanette giggled. Odd that she felt this as the least pleasant, considering that they were also fondling around with places far more sensitive on her body.

Every two days she had an exchange of steel. The holes healed and the piercings felt tight and slightly irritating all the time as the holes were widened. Her nips were constantly erected, and she always felt her heartbeat in the areas where the piercings were.

After some days, she was ready for her first set of rings. They were shown to her on a tray before they began, but she was not allowed to touch them until they were in place, as they were sterile and had to remain so for her own good.

She had adapted to the situation and was just looking forward to having it done, so she could go home.

Even so, it was a strange feeling. Suddenly to feel the hard, steel rings inserted all over her body – and in her most sensitive parts.

The rings had a spring loaded, open part that was closed shut after insertion with yet another set of shining, stainless steel pliers.

She stood upright without having her hands locked, when the nose, earlobes and nips were done, and willingly lay down, grabbed her own ankles, spread her legs, and let him do the ones in her crotch.

As usual, she thanked the Master afterwards.

She had one day, to ‘get accustomed’ as the Piercing Master said. That day, she was the centre of more attention, than ever before. She received plenty of praise, got fondled a lot and had lots of sex….

Frontal entry now felt absolutely different and very breath taking.

To her, the sensation was – when entered from the front – that the ring in her clit left it ‘open’ and protruding. The pubis of the person entering her hit directly on it with each deep trust. The penis moving in and out of her, ‘scraped’ along the ring, and made it feel like her clit was being slightly pulled each time the penis went in or out.

The first many times it made her scream with ecstasy during the act, and her orgasms were quicker reached, more electrifying and wilder than she had ever imagined they could be.

She thought she could feel the positive difference in the men using this opening – from her front side or doggy style. She tried imagining what the rings in her outer labia would do to the sides of a stiff member sliding along them, and the similar effect of the clit one moving along the top or bottom of the rod. It would certainly enhance the experience for the Master.

One Master even told her in detail how he loved to feel his balls bounce on the rings, when using her doggy style.

One thing bothered her – again to her own surprise – she was not allowed any makeup near the piercings. Especially her nipples looked all wrong to her without the usual red shine. She might have been here too long for her own good, having that kind of thoughts….

She was instructed to wipe the areas around the piercings with a disinfecting textile every time she washed.

As told it was a new and very strange sensation. The rings themselves had been heavier than she had expected, and she had woken several times during the first night, as the rings had bothered her. In the morning, Lonnie had given her a funny look, when he got her out of bed. He had of course noticed the piercings, but not until the rings did he really stare.

She had grabbed his right hand, and made his fingers touch the ring in her left nipple.
He had caressed her, lifted the ring, pulled a little and played with it. She had smiled at him, but could not read his expression. Clearly it made him agitated (She could see his penis react a little. The Servants had no way of hiding this with the open trousers, they wore!), but the expression on his face was almost neutral.

On day two of the new rings, The Piercing Master sought her out in her room just when she was finishing breakfast.
“Good morning, Cat! Stand up and turn around!”
The Piercing Master had always been one of few words and many commands, but actually friendly enough.

Having locked her hands to the back of the corset, he turned her by the shoulders.
A woman was accompanying him. Now Cat saw that this woman had a tray in front of her. Not holding it by her hands, as they were locked on her back (In fact by a one-sleeve that kept her elbows touching in the leather sheath), but by a chain from a ring in each nipple to the far end of the tray, and a belt round her waist holding the inner side of the tray.

On the tray was what she feared: A set of long, thin chains!

He started by clicking one in her nose, proceeded with one in each nipple and finished with no less than three in the rings between her legs.
Gathering all chains he led her out of the room. The ‘tray slave’ silently followed.

They came to a post in the Passageway – just were Hayley had stood.

For her they had selected a very thin and very long cane. It had been soaked overnight (as was the usual custom), in order for it to be very, very flexible, and she felt the first pain from it as the Piercing Master started her plight with a solid lash across her butt. He hung it on the hook on the wall – just far enough for her not to reach it, but close enough for her to study it in all detail…

After she had composed herself, he had showed her the tray mounted on his helper-slave in detail. He had caressed the slave’s breasts, pulled the chains to the tray, and told Cat that it was one of the very useful ways for her new ‘decorations’.

For good measure he took the cane down a second time and gave her another lash – this time across her stomach.
She was still shaking all over from the pain, when he left with his slave in tow.

She had a terrible day. She supposed that many – if not all – knew that she was ‘at the post’ – at least she had a lot of ‘visitors’ during the day. The result was an array of stripes all over her body.

She could not sit down. The chains were just short enough to prevent this. But long enough to make a smooth curve to the post.
Her knees were trembling at the end of the day, and dried tears itched on her face. She was also thirsty and hungry – bur first and foremost she was in pain. Pain from the many strokes – and pain from the many times someone had pulled one or more of the chains – or she had pulled them herself, when convulsing after a particularly hard contact with the cane.

John did not appear though…

As the sun began to set, Lonnie collected her. He led her by all the chains, and he confirmed – much later in the evening - that it had been a specific order to lead her back by the chains and not remove them till she was back in her room.

She gave fuck all to the rules! Her body hurt all over, she was extremely sore in all the places, she had rings, but she walked tall and straight – as much as the corset allowed – and instead of having her mouth lightly open, which had become a steady habit by now, she clenched her teeth, and pressed her lips together to avoid showing signs of pain.

In spit of being dizzy and worn out, she did her best to walk in a straight line after Lonnie, and keep up with him in order for the chains to stay slack and not pull more than gravity demanded on her sore spots.

All of the people they met on their way: slaves, servants, Masters and Mistresses gave her a look of admiration. She felt proud to have endured it all!

In her room, Lonnie carefully – very carefully - removed the chains from her rings, and placed them on a small tray. He got down on his knees to remove the three chains in her crotch, and when he had done so, she slid down in front of him, grabbed his head and pressed her mouth against his. Forcing her tongue inside him. They kissed intensely for a while before she released her grip. Then sat looking each other in the eyes - quietly for a few moments. She took his wrists and moved his hands to her sore breasts.

“You can touch me, you know. I’d like you to. I’m not suddenly made of glass.”
Very careful and very gently he cupped her breasts. Looking down on them as he did so. Slowly he moved his thumbs up under the rings and lifted them up. The size making it just possible to stick his thumb through and press on the tip of the nipple. She gasped, and put her hands on the sides of his torso.

“Ohhh. That’s good. Play with them – please…” She arched her chest forward as much as the corset allowed, tossed her head backwards and licked her lips. She did not have to look at him. His increased breathing told her, that he enjoyed it. She began making small spasms. Then leaned forward and rested her face on his shoulder.
“mmmm…you have soft and kind hands. Do you like my new look?”
”…yes…very much…it’s sexy…the steel and the skin…”
“I know…I know…”

Her hands moved slowly down the sides of his chest, and found his penis, that was slowly responding. Taking a firm grip on it, she whispered in his ear: Come. Up on the bed….”

They both got up, she still holding his now half erect member, and he having his thumbs in the rings. They descended on the bed. She on her back and him on top.

“Go on play with the other rings. I’d really like you to. I won’t shatter into little pieces, you know.”

He slid down to her crotch and she bent her knees, grabbed her ankles and spread.
He pulled in the rings in her labia. Pulling her open. Then put his tongue in close contact with her clit, which made her shake as she emitted a small cry of joy.

It became a long evening. In the end, he rubbed ointment into her sore buttocks and legs, making the constant hum of pain from the whip marks almost go away. She fell asleep while he was doing that, and was not even aware, that he moved her higher up on the bed, did the usual attachment of hands to collar, and collar to chain.

She made small sounds of joy in her sleep when he pulled the cover over her. He thought her name being appropriate: Cat, as she was almost purring in her sleep.
--
One morning after a few days and a fresh set of larger rings, a Master told her, that tonight would be the time for her final ‘ringing’.

She sought out Hayley during the day. Rushed up and down the Passageway and garden until she found her. Dragged her into a corner in the Garden, where they could speak without being discovered.

“So you have gotten ringed too!” Hayley started.
“Yes. I’m getting my final set tonight, so I thought I would talk to you.”
“I’m still very proud of mine, and so is my Master. Love it.”
“There’s no problems or inconvenience by them?”
“No. No. On the contrary, when you are used to them, it’s like they have always been there.” Hayley shot her chest out.
“May I touch them?”
“Please do…”

Cat took the ring in Hayley’s left nipple. The steel shone in the sunlight. It was heavier than she had expected and bigger. She looked down at her own temporary rings. There was a significant difference in size and weight between them.

“Feels heavy. And I thought my set was heavy?”
Hayley giggled. “So did I. You just wait till you try the real thing. It’s quite a sensation in the beginning, but you soon get used to it. They are permanent, so you might as well get used to it.”

“What about clothing, bra’s, underwear and such?”
“I don’t know yet of course, but as for bra’s we’re never going to wear full cupped bra’s again. When we get out of here, only quarter cups and less is allowed – you might as well get used to the thought. My Master has promised me, he will help me get suitable clothing instead of my old clothes. They have to be discarded – of course.”

She had never thought of it, but now it dawned on her. The rules of ‘The Society’ would be enforced, even when they went out into the world. ‘Ha!’ She thought. Not for me. I’m done with all this as soon as I get out of here – and I’ll find a way to get rid of the rings – fast.”

Curiosity did get the best of her. “What else do you know about ‘outside’ clothing?”
“Well. Never trousers again. Only skirts that are easy to lift up or open, no tight-fitting clothes. Loose blouses with easy ways of opening the front. Bottomless knickers, or none, bras, that does not cover ones nipples – and can be opened in the front – all with the aim of keeping us just as accessible as here. Rather sexy, I think. I wonder if I’ll be just as permanently wet, as I have been in here. Alone the thought of dressing up for use, makes me horny…”

“I see. I suppose my Master will help and guide me too.” She had no intention of this, but felt she had to play along.
She examined Hayley’s rings for a little longer.

Especially the one through the clit fascinated her. The hood was now permanently shoved back by the fat ring, and Hayley showed her – like she had demonstrated the other evening in The Great Hall, that when she put her legs together, the ring prevented her outer labia from closing over the clit, and it held the hood back. Hayley’s crotch now looked like a slit with a ring in the middle, displaying the protruding clit.
--
Time dragged along at a very slow pace, but at last it was evening. While she appeared in the Great Hall for her usual duties, she was stopped by the Piercing Master, and told to go to her room with Yvonne and wait.

Very nervous she quickly walked to her room. Yvonne undressed her, so she was naked apart from the cuffs, collar and corset, and then went out. Not a word had been spoken between them. Cat sat down on the bed and waited – for a long time.

When the door finally opened and The Piercing Master entered, she almost jumped off the bed.
“Hello, Cat! Ready for the evening?”

No question if she had regretted or anything. Just ‘Ready’!
“Yes. Master!” She replied.
“Stand up then. Face me and spread wide!”

He went behind her and assembled her wrists. Then came back to her front.
He had a small black bag in his right hand. He put it down on the bed, and produced a set of metal pliers.

Starting with her nose-ring, he turned the ring in its hole till he could see a small indenture on the inside of it. Placing the pliers exactly over this indenture, he pressed hard with the pliers, resulting in the ring giving a loud clanking sound, and opening a section. He turned the ring till it was free of her nose and threw it on the bed. Again it almost made her sneeze.

Proceeding in the same way, he removed all the rings – with more or less titillating effect.

He gathered the rings in the bag, put a short leash on her collar. Gave it a quick pull, turned and walked out. She almost stumbled as she followed on the tight line from his right hand.

They went to the small ‘preparation room’. The one she had been in after the first evenings ‘Dinner’ and before it all began. The room still had its two posts and horizontal bar, but a small square stool was added.
“Sit!”
She slid down on the stool.

“Turn, more, more. Stop”
She was facing a large black panel about a meter away.
“Spread. More, more! Sit upright!”

He connected her wrists to a ring on the back of the stool.

He bend down, and put his hand in her crotch, grabbed her hair with his other hand and looked her in the eyes. Slowly his fingers moved in and out of her.
They locked eyes as she felt herself getting more and more aroused…

He pulled out so fast that she gave a gasp and a jumped on the chair. Then turned to the panel. He opened it. It was a full size 3-winged mirror. He adjusted it in order for her to see herself from three different angles.

Going behind her, his hands went round her chest, and cupped her breast. Squeezing and pinching.
Continuing this with his right hand, the left one returned to her crotch.
Small shivers went through her body, her heart beat quicker, and her breathing became short and ‘vibrating’.

He whispered in her ear: “You like that! Don’t you, bitch?”
“….yyyyeeeeesssss….Sir…!”
“You better enjoy this. This will be the last time you will ever feel it like this. In a short while, you will be wearing the steel – and it will be something different all together. Do you like it, bitch?”
“…mmmmm….yesssss…Sssir…!”

He almost made her come, but stopped just before it happened. Deliberately leaving her unsatisfied.
“Sit still. Don’t move – and wait to be summoned, bitch!”
“…Yes, Sir….”

As she was still panting and slightly shaking, he left by the door to The Great Hall.

She did not know for how long, she was left there watching herself in 3 editions in the mirror. Slowly she returned to normal breathing, and started to think.

How on earth did she get to this? And why did she get excited so quickly. Someone hardly had to touch her, before she was in ecstasy. Before it had taken – sometimes long – foreplays, but now it took only a few minutes – or even less.

In a short while she was going to have steel inserted in her private parts. Steel that she would have trouble getting rid of later – but she convinced herself it was all part of her plan to get out of here – in the quickest possible way.

It was not The Piercing Master, that collected her, but her old friends: Yvonne and Jeanette.
“Are you ready!” Jeanette asked.
“I…I..Think so…”She answered.
“Good, good. Stand up!”

They released her wrists from the back of the chair, removed the leash and held her by the elbows.
She looked one last time in the mirror and saw herself naked apart from the tight corset, the cuffs and collar – and of course the soft shoes on her feet.

“Breathe, breathe. Slowly, slowly. Deeper, deeper.” It was Yvonne trying to get her pulse down.
She took a couple of very deep breaths: “OK. I’m ready. Let’s do this!”

Slowly they walked to the door and into the familiar Great Hall. It looked like so many other of the nights, she had spent there.

Getting up on the platform with the four posts, she almost tripped on the stairs, but the two girls supported her - gently but firmly.

In the middle of the platform Yvonne took her elbows, as Jeanette went to the side and lowered the two chains. Then came over and together they released her wrists, pulled her arms out and above her head and clicked the chains to her cuffs. They went to each their post, and in unison pulled her arms up and out. When they were almost straight, they hitched the chains to the hooks on the posts. The same hook that had held her leash on the first day.

“Spread your legs.” Yvonne Whispered.
She wriggled them outwards.
“More, More. Don’t worry the chains will hold you. Just keep spreading.” Jeanett whispered.

When her feet was almost off the ground, the girls quickly attached short chains to the outside of each ankle cuff, then went back to the posts, and pulled on the chains there, till she was standing on her toes.
She moaned slightly.

Yvonne grabbed her round the waist, pulled a little back and forth in the usual manner of testing the tightness of the suspension, was not satisfied with the result, returned to her post, nodded at Jeanette at the other post, and they both pulled a few inches more up.
Another moan as she was stretched out completely.

Testing the mobility of her waist again, Yvonne smiled: “Perfect! Are you comfortable?” She whispered.
“..yes..I’m Ok..” Knowing that her answer would make no difference anyway. The test of her waist was the only way they decided if it was ok.

Jeanette came over. She brought a Penis-gag.
“Sorry, my dear, but they have decided not to hear from you during the process. Please open!”

She had worn so many P-gags by now, that it was a familiar feeling. This one however, was fatter and longer than the others she had been gagged with. It had the familiar taste of disinfectant, and the familiar feeling of latex as it slid in her mouth and pushed her larynx slightly back.
She swallowed a few times to supress the gagging feeling down her throat.

Jeanette held the leather front-base tightly around her face as Yvonne buckled it on the back.
It also had a strap under her chin. They adjusted it carefully before swinging the connecting straps over her head, and buckling on the back of her head. The strap over her head holding it up against her palate, the lower one making her bite into it.

Jeanette grabbed her chin: “This is the severe model. It goes in nice and deep!”
As if she did not feel it!

She kissed her forehead: “You are ready. Be brave. Hope you have fun!”
They walked off.

Nothing happened for a while. Then they came back with a trolley, lifted it up on the platform, placed it in front of her, and removed the cloth on the top.

Her new rings were on the trolley. They were lying on a matte red piece of cloth. Even from Cat’s distance they looked heavy and big.

In the first row the three for her nose and ears, in the second the two for her nipples, and in the last, the three for her crotch.
There was s slight size-difference. The nose and ear ones were smaller and thinner. The nipple ones was by far the largest ones, and the clit one was a slightly smaller than the labia ones.

There were also a few plastic flasks probably with ointment, grease and disinfectant. Two pair of pliers: a large and a small one lay at the front, and a box of surgical gloves.

She began to drool. She had never been able to control her mouth water for very long, when she was gagged. Now she did no attempt to hold it back. It did not matter that it ran down her chin and dripped down between her breasts and to the floor in front of her.

The p-gag felt familiar. She had had this and its human equivalent in her mouth so many times, that it was no problem for her. The first time, she had worn a p-gag, she had been disgusted, and was told that her mouth was primarily for this purpose, so she had better get used to it. Now it was like an old habit. She sucked on it by sheer reflex.

She was left hanging there for another long period, before The Piercing Master came over with Yvonne and Jeanette.

“Now. Let’s not waist any more time. Let’s get to work on this bitch!”
He pushed the cart to one side and pulled a set of surgical gloves over his hands with a snap. The girls also drew gloves on their hands.

The spotlight were lit and shone at her body from all angles. It was like a stage and a few of the Masters had gathered round the edge of the platform to watch the spectacle: Her body stretched out in a prefect ‘X’, a girl at attention on each side, and The piercing master in front of her with the trolley.

“Disinfectant!”
Yvonne splashed something from one of the flasks on a soft tissue and handed it to him.

He grabbed her head under the chin, lifted it upwards slightly, and carefully wiped her left earlobe.
Being satisfied, he dumped the cloth in a small bucket at the end of the trolley.

Jeanette took a ring, wiped the end with a cloth with the contents of another flask, and handed it to him. He looked at it for a short moment. A piece of it was swung open to the side. He sought and found, the right end, grabbed her lobe with his thumb and forefinger, pulled a little, and began working it through the hole from the back. She could feel it quite distinctly. The hole was smaller than the ring, but the end now working its way through her earlobe had been carefully oiled. She was not even aware that it had gone all the way through, when he let go, turned, grabbed the small pair of pliers, took hold of the ring, and pressed.
The 'clanck' as it closed sounded very loud in the otherwise silent hall.
He put the pliers back on the trolley, grabbed the ring and pulled and twisted a little.

She could see the smile on his face.

A few moments later, her other earlobe were also fitted with a ring.

He grabbed her head and turned it a little back and forth. Admiring his handiwork.

She did not like the insertion of the nose ring. Again it made her almost sneeze, and she felt like choking while he worked as the only way she could breathe was almost blocked.

When he had finished, he grabbed the ring and used it to move her head back and forth and up and down. Even though she had been wearing the temporary and smaller model, this felt bigger and heavier. She definitely did not like the feeling of her head being moved by the ring in her nose.

Right now the ring was resting on top of the leather gag, but soon she would feel its presence on the skin between her nose and upper lip. It took some time getting used to.

Without stopping he proceeded to her nipples. Again wiping with a cloth supplied by one of the girls. He grabbed the end of her nipple with two fingers, holding it tight and pulling out, she could se how he slowly worked it through the narrow hole. This time the bigger pliers were used, and the sound as the ring locked and sealed was even higher. He moved it a little back and forth in the hole, before lifting it up and letting it fall down, sending a shiver down her spine. The weight surprised her. It felt very heavy indeed – and looked very big.

After mounting the other ring, and having tested that as well, he lifted both rings and let them fall – again with a shivering sensation in her body.

Kneeling down, he proceeded on the three rings in her crotch. The two labia ones were not that bad even though the weight again surprised her, but the clit one really made her test her restraints.

It did not take him long to finish the job.

He pulled the gloves off, threw them in the bucket, turned and left. The girls lowered her so that her feet were resting on the ground and the strain was taken off her arms. They gathered the trolley, lifted it down, and Yvonne rolled off. Jeanette picked up a one meter long, smooth steel rod, with a big ring in the end, stepped up on the platform, and stuck it into a hole about two meters from her.

She was drooling uncontrollable and a tear ran down each of her cheeks. She had done it! She felt a throbbing sensation in her nose, tits, clit and labia, and if she looked down she could see the rings in her nipples shining in the light.

Everybody had retreated to the fireplace and left her, but only for a few minutes, then John appeared.
They locked eyes and he smiled. He had something in his hand. He caressed her cheek with a smile.
“Good girl!” He said.

He lifted his hand up to her face and showed her a large padlock. She looked at it, and then at him, and then back – puzzled.

He kneeled down, and she felt the lock going though one of her labia rings, then through the end of a steel chain, and through the other labia ring. It closed with a click.

She could fell the weight even heavier as he let go of the chain, found the other end of it, and connected it to the post Jeanett had placed in the hole right in front of her. It swung in a long curve from the padlock in her labia rings to the post. It was much thicker and much more solid looking than the ones she had been wearing when she stood at the post in the hall - and it felt very heavy indeed.

As he got up he smiled at her again. Then went behind her. His hands grabbing her waist, moving down to her buttocks, which he squeezed, and the back up her front till he was cupping her breasts. The rings resting on the top of his hands.

His mouth moved close to her ear: “Now you are really mine!” he said. She could only give some moaning sounds in response.

Letting one hand slide down into her crotch and feeling the clit and ring while the other one continued to play with her breast, he kissed her on the side of her neck.

After a while he had finished his inspection and went back to the fireplace, leaving her to ‘enjoy’ her new ‘ornaments’.

A long while later, she was taken down by Yvonne, got the gag out, had her wrists locked on her back, and was led by the chain in her crotch to kneel in front of the fireplace.

She was used in her anus and mouth a few times, and her new steel ornaments were played with during the process. She felt herself getting even quicker aroused than before. It was like her body was electrified, and the rings a kind of constantly working vibrators. Her nips stayed erect all evening and her front opening was sobbing wet.

When she was finally led to her room – by the crotch chain – and by Jeanette, she was exhausted.
Lonnie did not have the key to the lock. He could only arrange the chain on the bed so as little weight was on her rings as possible.

He was also very interested in her new ‘ornaments, but she was sore, and told him so. Being the gentleman, he was, he satisfied his curiosity by just looking. Sometimes with interest, sometimes with an arousal clear in his eyes, and sometimes she even felt he looked a little disgusted.

His feelings were apparently as mixed as hers.

Even though she was exhausted, she had trouble falling asleep. The rings kept calling for her attention – in an annoying way, and the long, heavy chain lay on her legs, the padlock irritated the soft skin on the insides – as well as her sore labia. Finally she found a position where she could lie relatively comfortable with her wrists locked in the usual way to her collar and to the chain above her.

Her last thought was that now they really possessed her – as John had said, she was really his – or theirs.
The lock definitely made access to her vagina impossible – except for the people with the keys. What would happen if she went out one evening, found an appealing male, and took him home. How would his reaction be to the padlock between her legs – probably not very positive…then she fell into a deep sleep.
--
It took a spilt second when she woke, to remember the rings and lock. She moved slightly. No! It was not a nightmare. She was really equipped with both rings and padlock. She sobbed.

“Please let it be over. Please let me out of here. Please. Please.”
But it was not over yet.

Chapter fourteen
Consulting Mistress K
Fortunately the first thing that happened the next morning was a Master coming to remove the padlock and heavy chain.
She assumed that she had been made to wear it from the night before, to remind of her new status as ‘locked up slave’. She was more than conscious that it would only take a few seconds to put it back on, and that her ‘freedom’ was just a temporary stage – as usually controlled by others.

Lonnie was kind enough to be ‘distracted’ while she took her morning bath. That gave her the chance to examine herself. Feel the rings and see what it actually looked like down between her legs.

Compared to the temporary rings, this was something quite different. The new set had different sizes but they all felt much, much heavier and looked much, much bigger than the temporary ones.

Another new thing was, that she was not to wear the short, black ‘novice’ dress from now on. She had been issued a beautiful, silky, red outfit like Jeanette, Yvonne and the other ‘senior-slaves’ had.

It took a few hours before she realized she had a new lightness in her step, walked proudly and with her back much more erect, than the corset ensured.

She could now look down at her ringed breasts in the low cups, surrounded by the beautiful lace.

She was also allowed to put makeup back on her nips. Something she had missed – Ops – ‘missed’! Did she really think like that?

Somehow the next days were quiet. There had always been a different amount of people at the place – most around weekends, but now it seemed half-empty.

She therefore had plenty of time to roam the halls, and garden – in relative peace.

She was more popular than ever among the few Masters and Mistresses attending, and she practised a swing in her stride that would make the silk skirt flow around her in an elegant way. After all: There were plenty of mirrors around that she could use to admire herself.

She did not see John at any time – she did not know why he was away, but maybe he had to take care of his job – as opposed to her. She would never go back to the job with George. One of the very first things, she would do, when she got out was still to write her notice.
--
In the afternoon, she was walking in the garden, when she met Mistress K, who was sitting alone on one of the marble benches enjoying a cigarette.
“Ahhh! One of my favourite slaves, Cat! Come her, my dear!”
She approached and stood in front of her, legs spread and hands down her sides.

“I see you have been ringed!” She stuck a hand in between her legs and fondled the rings – resulting in an immediate reaction from her heart, breath and vagina.

“Sit with me for a while!” She padded the bench beside her.
“Yes, Mistress!”

“When we are alone, as now, you may call me Katie!”
“Yes Mistr…Katie”
“How do you feel about the rings, dear?”
“I’m. I’m not quite sure, Mistr…Katie.”
“That’s quite normal. It takes a while to get used to. I have seen slaves like this many times before. I suppose the sheer weight of the things is a bit much? Have you been padlocked yet?”
“Yes, M..Katie. I was padlock from the insertion last night till this morning.”
“Strange feeling. Is it not? Not having any control over one self? But I suppose also exciting?”
“Precisely, ….Katie”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be used to it before you know it. In the beginning they rings are annoying and in your way. Makes it hard to sit and lie down without them being troublesome – one way or other, but as you get into the habit – as you can do nothing else – you hardly notice them.”
“I don’t see that happening, Katie. Not at this point, but I suppose you have the experience?”
“Indeed. I’ll give you a few tips. I hear you will be leaving us?”
“I think so, Katie. There has been talk of sending me back soon.”
“I know. I know. I’ll be sad to see you go. You have been very good, you know?”
“Not really. It’s been hard – especially in the beginning.”
“That’s part of the training. We need to break you down before we can build you up. Hence the cellars. You almost hold the record of coming out of the cellar fast. Did you know that?”
She looked at her in amazement: “Not at all. I thought my stay there was more than long enough!”
Katie threw her head back laughed and took another drag on her cigarette.

“We have had a few – fortunately very few – that has spend far longer than you in the cellar, and even then we had to send them home again, but the majority stays almost twice as long in there as you. You adapted very quickly. I assume you are a practical girl that quickly found out what was demanded of you, and acted accordingly?”
“Something like that, Mi…Katie.”
“Good for you. I enjoyed our little training sessions, and noticed that you immediately got my instructions and put them to good use! You have been a very willing and easy student. I wish I had slaves like you – not to mention your delicate beauty.”

She blushed all the way up to the roots of her hair. “Thank you, thank you, Mistress…sorry..Katie.

She laughed again. “Takes a little getting used to addressing me by my first name, does it not?”
Yes, KATIE!” she said loudly.
“Not very many slaves are allowed to, and I hope you will keep this between you and me?”
“Of course, Katie!” She said with a smile.

“Should your present Master ever want to get rid of you - although I fail to see why – you can always contact me. Not only will I help you find the right Master, I might even put a bet in on my own behalf.”
She looked down and smiled – still blushing: “I feel honoured!” – and realizing it was meant from her heart, not just a polite reply.

“Well back to the rings. The bottom ones will be no problem, as you will never wear closed knickers again, and you will get a steady supply of the pads, we use here for your period. I suppose you will also be able to figure out how to use a tampon or pad when you have your period? It would be best to use the shower down there as often as possible – and certainly while you are menstruating. You won’t have to think about stuffing them in your knickers as you will always be open there – they can just hang freely.

The nose and ears are detachable. You will get instructions, when you leave here. You will only have to wear them when ordered to, and can go about your everyday life without visible signs of you status. I suppose that makes you a lot calmer about it?”
“Yes. I was worrying. I am not the piercing type, and my job, colleagues and friends would find it strange, that I suddenly have these ‘decorations’ in my face.”

“That leaves the tits. They are always a problem. You can’t hide them, as you will not have any closed bras again. I see a lot of girls using bulky shirts of solid cotton and woolly blouses. Thus it is not possible to see the rings unless you tighten the material. I have also seen slaves using gaffer-tape to hide them. That way your two arches will look smooth, but you will have to find your own solution to that.”
“I see. I will have to experiment with it.” ‘Or rather I will have them removed as soon as possible’, she thought.

“You wont be able to wear see-through things again – ever. You will have to use your corset quite often to keep in shape – and even though you will get a corset-cover, it would still be possible to see it through a thin blouse.”
“Ok. Thanks for your – as ever good advice, Katie!”

“Now run along. I hope to see you before you leave. And keep up the good work. You are and will become almost the perfect slave girl! You may kiss me!”
She gave her a light kiss on the cheek.
“Farewell for now, Katie.”
“Goodbye, and it is “Mistress K’ again from now on!” She blinked with one eye.

Chapter fifteen
Lonnie again
In the evening, as Lonnie was making her ready for bed, She looked up at him while he was locking her wrists to her collar.

“Please. Can’t you wait doing that – and lie down here beside me for a while?”
“Of course,” he answered. Undid the wrists again and jumped down beside her.
She put her arms around him, and one leg over his body, holding him tight. She could feel his relaxed penis and balls against her skin.

“So. This is nice. Hold me for a while.”
He put his arms around her, and they lay intertwined for a long while in silence. Listening to each other’s breath.
It was very nice and comforting to just lay and hold and be held by someone – and not ordered about.
She relaxed.

“I wish you were my Master,” She finally said in a very low voice.
He blushed. “Why?”
“You are gentle, sexy and has always treated me respectfully and with the greatest of care. I’m glad you have been my attendant. I know you have other girls on this floor, but I prefer to consider you my personal attendant.”
He smiled and was quiet for a very long time.

“I’m glad you know I have other duties, but I cannot be a Master. I’m a student at the Business College, and have very few funds. One of my father’s rich acquaintances approached me at a cocktail party. Don’t know why. We got talking, and before I knew it, I had confessed my interest in Bondage. He invited me to a private party in his house. Here I met my first slaves and saw how things worked. I was fascinated – and when he invited me for breakfast a few days later, it was no problem convincing me to become an attendant. I hope one day – in a not too distant future – to have the funds to join as a full Master.”

She stroked his hair. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“No. I tried it, but it quickly became boring compared to what I experience here.”
“What do you see as the main difference?”
“wellllllll…..ahem…here I can have any girl I like, the girls cannot say no. They do whatever I tell them and no matter what I ask of them. Before I came here, I had never had a blowjob, or done anal sex. I had simply been too shy to ask. Here it is no problem. I just tell the girl that’s what I require, and get it immediately.”

“…but does it not bother you, that most often the women do it under the cloud of a punishment if they don’t`”
“Not really. When I get them here in the rooms, they are under training and have completed the initial phase, so there’s no need for any threats to make them comply. I don’ ask much of them or anything unusual anyway.”
“No. I have noticed that you are very shy in a strange way. Sometimes when you put me to bed or wake me in the morning, I have had such a desire for you, but as I cannot ask anything of you, whereas you can ask anything of me – I have often been disappointed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but why are you here? What’s in it for you?”

She decided to stay ‘in role’.

“Well. It is almost the same for me – just in reverse. With my freedom to decide, my responsibility also went overboard. I commit my body and soul to this, and in return I get all the sex – kinky or not – that I could possible desire. Men – that is Masters and Mistresses - admire me, desire me, and use me at their will.
If you only knew how exciting it is to be restrained, held, chained and so on. I can relax as long as I do, what’s required of me.

Emotions are stripped away. I do not have to have any feelings for the person I serve, as he or she does not have for me. I’m only required to satisfy their physical needs – to the best of my abilities. You could say that they try to make me the perfect pleasure tool…”

“..but…but----what about all the whipping and caning – all the pain?”
“It’s like absolution. I get punished if I misbehave or do not perform to their satisfaction, and sometimes the pain is part of the ecstasy. Have you ever thought of how it would feel if you were just about to cum, and someone started slapping your butt at the same time? The combination of pain and pleasure is not for everyone, but for those of us, that enjoy it, it is the highest form of ecstasy one can reach.”

“The times I have been told to whip you then? That has nothing to do with sex – or has it?”
“In a way it has. This place is for training. Therefore there must be no free space for us. Not knowing who or when one is required keep us constantly wet and horny. Have you ever experienced me dry down there? Or any of the other girls for that matter?”

“Come to think about it – I have not. I had a girlfriend, whom I had a lot of trouble arousing and getting wet. Every second time we did not make it. Not here though!”

“See it is a win-win situation – for all of us. I think you would understand better if you used your imagination. Imagine you were in my place. I’m not allowed to and have very little chance of touching myself, I’m wearing these steel things that you can use to render me helpless in a few seconds, I never know when I will be taken, my three openings are ready and available at all times.
You lock my hands every evening, so even in the solitude of my bed, I cannot touch myself. When I bathe, I have a theoretical possibility to touch myself, but if I do, I have to be very careful. If you or any other man discovers me anywhere near my private parts and it is not a natural part of the bathing, I will promptly be punished.

Everybody – except me has free access to my most intimate parts. I can’t even sleep soundly as I never know if someone – you or someone else - comes in during the night and does ‘things’ to me. How would you imagine yourself in that position?”

“I think it would be hard to, even though I do see some of your points!”

“Now roll over on your back, and I’ll see if I can make you fly.” She pushed him down on the bed.
Crawled to the end of the bed. Grabbed his ankles and moved his legs apart.

She sat on the edge of the bed facing him.

“You just relax and do nothing – then I’ll show you what a slave girl is really like….”
“Yes…..hmmm.”
“No protesting. This might be the last time, we see each other, and you have to grant me a last wish in my gratitude for your decent treatment of me.”
‘Okayyyy…mmm..”

“Now shut up, fold your hands behind your head and relax!”
She lifted one of his legs and sucked on the toes one by one. Extracting each toe with a slurping sound and using her tongue to tickle each toe in turn. All the time keeping her eyes locked on his and smiling as she sucked and licked.

After having given his toes and feet amble attention, she started moving up, having her body in close contact with his, using her nails on the insides of his legs, slowly sliding further and further up till her hands held round his hips. He began moaning softly.

She used her tongue to turn his penis up on his stomach, and drew her lips down the underside to his balls.

Stroking her moist lips on the soft, wrinkled skin. She let one ball slide into her mouth and sucked – slowly and gently. Opened her mouth as wide as she could and got the whole sack inside.
Mowing her jaw up and down, she chewed softly on the sack and balls.
She withdrew very, very slowly giving him the full benefit of the slight suction and the sudden release of each ball.

Using one hand, she now lifted the balls and began licking the skin behind them. From just above his back opening to where the soft skin of his balls started. Up and down, and up and down.
“mmmmm…” she said. Getting another soft moan from him in response.

Now she went for the ‘main course’: Her tongue slid up the underside of his gradually stiffening member.

He moved his arms.

“No. No. Keep your arms over your head!” she whispered. He went back to the first position with his hands behind his head. She knew that he either looked down at her head, or at the reflection of their bodies in the overhead mirror.

She moved further up, closed her mouth round the base of the head and sucked gently. She felt him harden.

Keeping the head in her mouth, her tongue played with the small opening and felt the skin slowly begin to slide back. As her tongue rotated around the head she pushed the skin back with her lips closing just under the head, moving down a fraction of an inch, releasing and moving back up, closing her lips and moving….and so on. Till she could hold the skin tight and stretched down from the head with the pressure of her lips against the rod.

Her hands had moved up round his hips again and once in a while she stuck all her nails slightly into the soft skin..

He made noises…

Her tongue circled the head; she put her mouth around it and moved down as slow as she could possible do. It was so hard and big that she felt like it went on forever. The head started by sliding along her palate, continued as it pushed her larynx up and back and then into the beginning of her oesophagus.

Trying desperately not to gag she stayed still for a moment, before moving slowly up again, and enjoying the sensation in reverse.

All the way up, just leaving her lips slightly resting on the top of the head, she swallow and composed herself, then moved down slowly again.
She knew by experience that the first deep entry into her mouth was always the worst to cope with. After that it became easier and easier to resist the gagging. She even found time to enjoy the tickling sensation of his pubes hair on her face and nose each time she was all the way down.

Her hands had crept up to his small nipples, and with her nails she pressed and teased them.

Giving him a break, she looked up: “Men’s’ nipples are most underrated. Don’t you think?”
“Yes…yes..”
“All it takes is a little pressure. Then they are almost as sensitive as on a woman.”

She squeezed again and pulled. Turning a little from side to side. Getting another moaning reaction.

Sensing he was getting too excited, she grabbed his penis head between two fingers one on top and one on bottom; She squeezed hard making his erection diminish.

Now she was up to his face. She grabbed the pillow from the side of the bed: “Lift your head. I want you to watch this…”
She pushed the pillow under his head, and sat up.

Resting her hands on the sides of his chest, she leaned forward and moved slowly and slightly back and forth on his stomach till she had managed to manoeuvre the point of the head just inside - then sat upright.

“Now look!” She said.

The look in his eyes told her everything; She smiled again and licked her wet lips. Her face wet with the saliva the deep penetration of her mouth had produced.

He looked down to the point where his penis was upright and just far enough stuck between her inner labia for her to hold it upright.

Slowly she moved down – just about enough for him to see and feel the difference – and then back up, again still leaving just the point inside her.

Then repeated. This time she moved a tiny bit more down – and then up – very slowly.

She kept doing this: Slowly down a little further than the last time – and then up with just enough of him inside her for her body to control the stiff rod.

Finally she had him all inside. With her hands still resting on his chest she sat completely still and looked at him.

His eyes were half-closed and he was panting loudly, His chest moving up and down rapidly

She really enjoyed herself. He was adorable in his increasing euphoria.

Contracting the muscles inside she began slowly massaging his manhood. One leg on each side of his body, squeezing him tight and giving him no possibility to control her movements.

As she licked her lips again, stuck her nails in his chest and smiled at him, he turned the white out of his eyes.
‘Ohhhh….”
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Yes…yes…YES…!!!”

She began to rotate her hips making his member move around inside her. Arched her back and bowed her head backwards. Sighing and taking a quick, inspecting look in the ceiling mirror..

Still rotating slowly she bend down over him and whispered in his ear: “Can you feel the rings! Nice is it not?”

She bit his earlobe.
“Yes. Wonderful.”

You may play with my tits now, if you like.”

He did not need this invitation more than once. His hands went out from under his head and greedily sought her orbs, which he began caressing and fondling, making her gasp as he lifted the rings with the back of his fingers and pressing on the nips.

She moved slightly up and then down, pressing herself against his body. Her clit and the ring immediately sent a flash of lightning up through her body and down into her legs making her quiver and shake.

She gradually increased her movements up and down, alternating with rotations. He grabbed her waist, held on tight and buckled like a wild horse.

The both came with a scream and the ejaculation felt like it was burning lava that was flushed up inside her.

She decreased her movements as he emptied himself inside her, but held him really tight with her shivering legs.

Staying on top of him, seeing little drops of sweat drip from her face to his chest, and trying to make her arms stop shaking, she contracted the muscles in her abdomen to pump him dry, after which she lowered herself on his chest.

He felt her damp hair and sweaty face – a few drops from her forehead landed on his cheek

They were both panting.

They lay there as he got smaller and smaller and her convulsions got fewer and fewer.

When he fell out of her, she slid down and used her tongue to lick his member as it decreased in size. Finally she pushed the skin back with her lips.

Then she moved back up and lay on his chest.

“You liked that?”
“Yes, Yes. Very much. I think I love you!”
“Silly boy!” She said and smiled at him, pushing his damp hair away form his forehead, and kissing him on the nose.

“May I be excused for a minute? You are dripping out of me, so I need to go to the toilet to freshen up.”
“Of course, “ he answered.

She staggered to her feet, went to the toilet and did the necessary things.
When she came back, he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

She sat down beside him, held out her wrists together in front of her and said: “Now lock me up for the night. We’re both tired, and tomorrow will probably be a long day for both of us!”

He did as she told him, and she crawled up on the bed so he could do the chain.
He pulled the cover over her.

“May I kiss you?” He asked.
She looked at him: “I’m a slave. You can do anything you want with me!”
“…but this time, I want your permission, please?”
She raised herself from the bed, the chain rattling. Held his head between her locked hands, looked him in the yes and said: “Please, please do!”

Their tongues played for a long time. He could taste his own cum as his tongue rotated inside her.
“Thank you, Cat!” He whispered.
“You’re welcome, Lonnie!”

She closed her eyes, and he reluctantly got up and went out.

The last thought, she had before dozing off was that they had not cared that a Master – or anyone else for that matter – could have come in the door at any time during their love making – and even though Lonnie could do what he liked to the slaves, the situation would probably looked like she was more in control than the Masters would like her to be.

In her old life, sex – apart from a few one-night stands - had been a serious matter. John had courted her over two months before she let him seduce her, and then the first couple of times had been awkward till they got to know each other’s intimate parts better. Now sex was her main activity, and she was a tool to satisfy men (and women!). It had nothing to do with feelings, it was raw lust and satisfaction, and she had developed skills that she never imagined she would have.

She smiled to herself and was happy that she had just had a very good fuck with a man she knew almost nothing about – without being interrupted…..

Chapter sixteen
Another ring lesson
She woke by Lonnie pulling the covers off. He was in the company of a Master – one of the more strict ones.
“Morning, bitch!” The Master said.
“Good morning, Sir.”

“I hear your stay here is coming to and end, so I thought it would be good for you to have a little memento from me.”
“Yes. Sir.”

He turned to Lonnie: “Drag her down to this end of the bed.”
Lonnie leaned over from the end of the bed, grabbed her ankles and pulled her down. Her hands still locked in front of her, and to the long wall-chain.

The Master took the rope that hung permanently from the left post at the end of the bed. “You take her other leg!”
The shackles in the end of the ropes were attached to her ankle cuffs. The Master looked at Lonnie: “Now pull. Make sure her legs are at the same level.”

They pulled. Her legs spread and lifted more and more. Lonnie was watching the Master that kept pulling.
“There. That should do it. Now stretch her arms!” They tied the ends of their ropes to small, steel pulleys at the side of the posts.

Lonnie gave her a quick glance as he released her wrists from the collar, and pulled on the end of the wall-chain till she was straightened out then hooked it back on the wall fixture.
The Master looked at her. “That’s not enough”, he said and went over to the chain, pulled it and stretched her arms till she gasped.

“See. That’s better. The bitch should be almost off the bed. That way she will move less.”
Her bottom was the only part of her still on the bed.

He handed Lonnie a long cane and stroked the soft insides of her legs with one hand. “I want I nice set of stripes here and here – and put some energy into it. I don’t fall for begging or crying – I only judge from the results, so lets see what you can do. Start here.” He pointed to a place just under her left knee.

“And you, bitch! Do the counting. Not that I have a particular number in mind, but it will do you good, to register the number of strokes you get!”

Lonnie looked very sad at her. She closed her eyes to avoid eye contact. He swung the cane, she counted out “One”.
“That won’t do! Put some force into it, Lonnie. That did not even leave a mark.”

Lonnie pressed his lips together – hard - and swung the cane a second time. This time it made a far louder sound as it hit her, and caused her far more pain. She had to compose herself for a few seconds, before speaking out: “Two”

“Better, the Master said. “Now continue.”
The cane went down again. This time just under the first spot that was already developing a thin red stripe on her leg. Lonnie was a skilled user of whips, canes and crops, so it was very precise.

She called out “Three” as a small tear ran down her left cheek.

Her leg looked like someone had used an instant marker and drawn three, red parallel lines across it.
Now the cane touched her a few times just under the last mark – and then came the stroke.

Her leg began to burn and the pain radiated up to her brain and made a roaring fire in the middle of her head.
“Fo…four.” She called out with a shivering voice.

On the fifth stroke she gave out a small cry when hit, and on the tenth – and halfway down her leg, she almost screamed, but each time she was given time to compose herself, and to call out the number.

When the stripes had almost reached her opening, he turned to the inside of the other leg – starting just where her legs began.

Again the first couple of strokes were bearable, but halfway up she was in as much pain as she had been the same place on the first leg.

Now and then the Master urged Lonnie to put more energy into it.

When he started to work his way down – over the first set of stripes but with a slightly changed angle, she was just floating in red pain. She begged him to stop, she cried, she screamed, she struggled - but they waited patiently for her to call out the number of the lash before the next one. It took longer and longer for her – between sobs and sniffling’s.

Finally the Master was satisfied with Lonnie’s handiwork.

Through her half-closed eyes she saw Lonnie sweating and the dark look he had on his face.
He deliberately did not look at her, and she felt sorry for him. The body he had enjoyed with so much pleasure only a few hours ago, now lay half-conscious and painfully marked before him.

She could taste blood in her mouth from where she had bit her lips.

Lonnie stood aside, and the Master took a small, many-tiered, short whip from his belt and kneeled on the bed in front of her.
“You’re not finished yet, bitch:”
He proceeded by hitting her open crotch ten times – making her scream even louder – and also count the lashes.
Then got up: “Thank me, bitch!”
“sob…sob…sniffle.. sniffle..hiccup..sob..Tha…Thank…you….Ma…Masss…Master..”
“Louder and as if you mean it – bitch!”
“….Thank you……Master..”
“That was better. You’re welcome, bitch!”

He turned to Lonnie: “Now leave her there and come get me in an hour, I want to supervise her dressing this morning!”
“Yessir!”

They both left. Lonnie so fast as if he could not wait to get away.

She looked at herself in the overhead mirror: At her red, swollen and whipped crotch, her blue, red and brown striped inner legs and her hurting arms, ankles and wrists.

At first she cried and sobbed, but slowly she composed herself, and lay still, looking up at her reflection.
--
They came back and took her down. Lonnie helped her to the bathroom and aided her in washing and oiling the marks on her legs – in absolute silence.

The Master stayed in the bedroom. Lonnie got her into the corset and fine red, dress and watched as she did her makeup.

The Master was reading a magazine, when they returned. “Took you a while – but now you are ready. Lock her hands to the back of her corset”.

After Lonnie had done that she was told to come closer.
“Spread, bitch. Do you need another whipping?”
“No Sir, Please Sir!”

Her legs quickly went far apart.

He put a hand on her stomach – right over her opening. “Wonderful with these rings. I understand that they are new?”
“Yes, Sir only a few days old.”
“Well – I’ll show you an interesting way of using them.”

From the little bag on his belt, he took three small steel chains.
He put them on the bed beside him.

Like in the original dresses in ‘The Story of O’ her dress had small, thin lines hanging inside at the hips. These lines could be used to push the two front (or back) sides of the dress apart, and could be knotted in a nice bow outside on the hips. The Master now opened her front that way.

The bottom of her corset, her stomach and of course her naked crotch was now permanent visible.

He grabbed the clit ring and she gave a small cry as he threaded a chain through it and up through a little ring in the bottom of her corset. He pulled the two ends of the chain till the ring pointed straight up and her clit was painfully pulled. Then he put a small padlock through the ends of the chain, securing her clit in this painful position.

He did the same with the rings in her outer labia, except their chains connected to rings on the side of her corset, spreading them open.

He studied her vagina, now opened like a book, and with the tortured clit above. He touched the clit with a finger and smiled as she crouched.

“Very nice. Now you are ready for your morning walk, bitch!”
“Yes, Sir!”

He got up, attached a leash to her nose ring, gave it a few quick, hurting pulls and dragged her of to the morning room.

Here he let the noose at the end of the leash slide down over a hook in the wall next to the buffet. Told her to face the room, spread and stand still till she was told otherwise.

She stood there – opened for all to see – and several of the Masters, coming in for breakfast admired and examined her stretched out labia, the exposed opening and clit and the rings of course.

A few of them tested the tightness of the little chains causing her short, sharp pains as her flesh and/or clit was put under even more pressure.

She stood there till lunch before he released her and took the chains out.

She found a quiet corner to cry and to rub ointment on the insides of her legs

For the few remaining days of her stay, she and Lonnie did not speak. They avoided eye contact, and he did the things he had to do in connection with putting her to bed and getting her up – but that was all…

Chapter seventeen
Freedom?
After having a few quiet days after since that experience she was summoned to the office. A place she had not been before.
It was cosy. Small but with paintings on the walls, a large, antique desk in the middle, behind which two Masters were sitting – and a comfortable chair with armrests on her side of the desk.

They asked her to sit and said:
“Hello, slave Cat!”
“Hello, Sirs”.
“You have been ordered here, because we have decided to send you home tomorrow!”
“Thank you, Sirs!”
“You have been most responsive to your training, and many Masters and Mistresses has praised you quite a lot along the way. We are aware that the road has been bumpy from time to time, but also hope you realize the necessity of this in order to train you properly?”
“Yes, Sirs. Thank you, Sirs!”

“Now there’s a few practical things: You know that you will not be going back to your old life. From now on your duty is to obey our call for your services at any time we so require. You will drop whatever you are doing, and comply with our orders?”
“Yes, Sirs. Quite, Sirs!”

She decided to play it out, and hoped that her answers and generally good behaviour would not make them change their minds.

“First: Contraception. You have had injections here corresponding to the use of P-Pills. We expect you to get a prescription for these no later than two weeks from now. We will supply you with an address to a discreet doctor from ‘The Society’, and advise you strongly to quit seeing your present General Practitioner.
We also recommend that you use our doctor for future consultations, as it might give reason to unwanted questions, should a doctor from outside ‘The Society’ examine you. The address will be in your handbag, when we give it back to you. Any questions?”
“No, Sirs. It is quite clear!”

“Then there are the rings. I do not know if you have been told, but the ears and the nose ones are detachable, and we only expect you to wear them, when specifically ordered to do so.”
She responded positively to that as well.

They showed her a small box. Very elegant looking and much like a flat jewellery box. Leather bound and with no markings on the outside.

Inside it had a blue, velvet lining. At the front there was an indentation in which a small pair of pliers were lying, at the back three round hollows clearly fitting the rings.
One of them took a ring, which was lying on the table and demonstrated how to find the little hole or crack on the inside. Subsequently how to position the pliers on the ring and press hard in order for the ring to open – and when opened: How to lock the pliers with a little lever on the side of one of the handles.

They also showed her how to place a ring in the pliers, Press hard and lock the little lever when the ring was fully opened, release the lever and then with another hard press, make it close with a ‘snap’.

Finally they informed her, that her bag would also contain an emergency telephone number, to call at all hours, should she need any form of help.

After having praised her a final time, she was dismissed.

In the evening she could hardly sleep, knowing that the end was near.


Something about rings – for the technically minded.
All that Cat knew when she had her final set of rings in place, was that they were made of Titanium-magnesium steel, had a matte steel appearance, and the ones in her nose and ears were detachable – but the others were not.

Both types of rings were made of the same material: Titanium-Magnesium Steel. ‘The Society’ had ordered a large quantity in assorted sizes from a heavy industrial corporation in China.

That was necessary as producing the rings – in that very, very strong material – demanded heavy machinery indeed.

Even though Titanium- Magnesium is much lighter than ordinary steel – the weight of the rings were noticeable as they were in a place, were no such things had ever been, and thus felt extremely uncomfortable till she had gotten used to them.

The ‘mechanism’ in the two types of rings was very different.

First the detachable ones: They had a section that was held in place by a spring inside the ring. Using a specially set of pliers, they could be opened and closed.

The pliers had a wide, flat jaw. In each side of the jaw there were a two semi-circular grooves – tailored precisely for each of the two types of rings.

Detaching was done by sliding the ring in the piercing hole until the section that opened was found.

The relevant grooves in the pliers could then be put around the ring and the handles pressed hard.
(The pliers had an exchange as it took a lot of force to open the rings).

Having opened the section, it could be locked in a 90-degree angle from the ring by pushing a little lever on the side of the handle.

Using the pliers to turn the ring in its hole, the open part would eventually slide out releasing the ring.

Inserting a ring was the same operation in reverse: Placing the ring in the appropriate slot in the pliers, press the handles together and when the ring was fully opened, secure the pliers with the lever on the handle.

Then place the open part of the ring over the piercing, push it through the hole till it was in position and the open part free – and then release the pliers.

The permanent rings were a different story all together:

When delivered from the factory, each ring had a small – 3mm wide - gap. This made it possible to press, squeeze and force the ring over f. inst. a nipple. It needed to be oiled/greased sufficiently for one to be able to do this, as the opening was much smaller than the flesh it was meant to slide over to reach the piercing hole.

The two ends of the ring were slightly rounded.

Inside one of the ends were the ‘missing part’. It had a slightly narrower diameter than the rest of the ring and behind it was a short but very, very powerful spring. In the middle of the spring was a small capsule.

The spring is prevented from releasing by a tiny, tiny pin that sticks out on the outside, and has a round, flat, small disc at the end. The shape reminding of a ‘tack’ – but of course it is also made of the same strong alloy.

The ring is forced over the skin and into the piercing. It is then turned in order for the opening to be free of the flesh.

Then a different pair of pliers than for the detachable rings are used – not a very strong tool – but a tool sufficient to grab round the ring, and extract the pin sticking out.

This releases the spring, which pushes the ‘missing part’ out and sufficiently into the opposite side of the ring making a very rugged connection.

As the spring is released the capsule breaks and an expanding plastic compound is released. This hardens within a minute.

The person mounting the ring checks that everything has worked fine by the little drop of this plastic compound, which comes out of the hole, the pin occupied before it was removed.

He or she wipes a finger over the small hole getting rid of excess plastic (before it hardens), thus smoothing it and making it almost invisible to the naked eye.

After the plastic has hardened it will not only fill the space that the ‘missing part’ occupied before, but it will also encase the spring so that it cannot be pushed back. (Although finding a tool that would be able to grab the little ‘missing piece’ and having enough force to push the spring back would be more or less impossible.)

The plastic compound is almost as strong as steel, and even though it does not have the same fantastic strength as the solid parts of the ring – it is pretty close.

The wearer will often choose to have the place where the ‘missing part’ now sits, in the piercing hole. It will prevent the ring from sliding in the piercing and the visible part of the ring will be homogeneous.

A final word about titanium/magnesium alloys:

Its density is only about half that of steel, so titanium parts weigh roughly half as much as steel parts. (But it will still feel heavy and uncomfortable to a person for the first time it is worn.) Its high strength - 180,000 psi-plus for Titanium/Magnesium alloys — is far greater than the strength of many alloy steels giving it an extremely high strength-to-weight ratio.

Titanium alloys resist corrosion and oxidation better than stainless steels.

And about Cat’s subsequent problems with removing the rings:

Machining a thin-wall part or ring — common operations — with anything but a positive-rake tool will push and deflect the part rather than cut it.

This makes it difficult to cut. Instead of cutting the part, the wrong tool pushes it, straining the material. As the material moves away from the cutting edge it deforms plastically, instead of elastically, and that increases the material’s strength and its hardness at the point of cut. As the alloy gets harder and stronger, cutting speeds that were appropriate at the start of the cut become excessive, and the tool wears dramatically.

- Imagine that taking place while a ring is embedded in a soft, sensitive part of ones body…!!!!

The conclusion is that the rings are in fact not permanent, but there could hardly have been done more to make it difficult to remove them without surgery.


Next day it was not Lonnie as usual, but Yvonne and Jeanette that woke her.

They administered her usual morning enema, and helped her through the motions, but put her in a new corset. It felt like the same size as the usual one, but the leather was thinner and smoother and it had a nice red lining, and not quite as many rings on the edges, but still padlocks at the back. She wondered if they would give her the keys, or she was expected to wear it 24/7.

She was not dressed nor was she allowed to do her makeup, but she was taken to the Great Hall. Without clothing, but in cuffs, collar and corset.

She found herself on the platform. Standing in the middle in the spotlight, hands locked to the back of her corset, legs spread – waiting.

Jeannette and Yvonne had fetched the familiar trolley, with the cloth cover as usual.

They stood at attention on both sides of her, and they all waited in silence.

The strict Master stepped up on the platform and approached her.
“Well, bitch. Now you are going home, but probably not they way, you expect?”

She looked at him slightly puzzled.

“You see. We will only allow you approximately 24-hours, before requiring your services again.
Consider this a kind of test! You will find a note in your handbag with an address and a time, in which you are expected to show up – ready to serve. To make sure of that, we will fit you with a few ‘gadgets’!”
“Yes, Sir!”

“Has she been cleaned thoroughly in her anus?” He addressed this at no one in particular, but both Yvonne and Jeanette answered in unison: “Yes, Sir!”
“Ok. Then we will proceed.” He turned and pulled the cloth of the trolley, picked something up, faced her and showed her the device in his hands.
“Do you know what this is, Bitch?”
“Yes, Sir. It’s a Chastity belt.”
“Yes. Quite. A very appropriate name, if I may say so.”

The belt itself was smooth, shiny steel, with a neoprene lining and a locking mechanism in the front. It had ‘Slave’ engraved on one side and ‘Cat’ on the other – just like her collar had.

The shield – hanging down from the back in two flat chains were in black steel. It had a long, vertical, narrow slit in the middle.

He put the belt round her waist. Adjusted it so that it fitted tightly to the corset.

The ends of the belt connected with a little rod through one of many holes in front.

He turned to the trolley again. Pointed to something and gave Yvonne a nod. She picked the item up. It was a very large straight dildo, not unlike the ones that had been used in her anus. Fat and large. Yvonne oiled it with something from a flask on the trolley then handed it to the Master.

He kneeled, used one hand to spread the rings and her outer labia, placed the dildo in her opening, and pushed it up inside her in one quick, long movement. She gave a short gasp as the thing went all the way in – and her legs shivered.

He smiled.

Grasping the front of the belt between her legs, he swung it up and let the end slide over the little rod in he middle of the belt. It stayed in place by itself.

Pulling and pushing in her crotch, he made the steel go between her outer labia and had the rings hanging on each side of the shield.

With one hand he took the top of the little rod and lifted it out and down a little, so that he could get his fingers in behind the shield at her opening. He manipulated her clit ring to vertical position, put it through the slit and pulled it – and the point of her clit through the slit. After which he turned the ring back into its normal position. Now lying against the metal on the outside.

She gave a few loud gasps and her legs shook a few times during this operation, as it was rather painful.

He put the top of the shield back on the rod, took a padlock – handed to him by Yvonne – and locked her up.

Not only the ring and the top of her clit stuck out through the slit, but her inner labia were pressed out by the tightness of the thing. The two sides of her inner labia looked like an oblong, wrinkled, reddish flower.

He tested the fit and made sure it was tight and nothing was stuck. The flat chains going diagonally up each side of her buttocks, the shield completely tight to her stomach and the belt impossible to rock or move round the corset.

He tried to get a finger behind the plate but it was not possible.

“There! Perfect fit!” He pointed to something else on the trolley, and Yvonne picked it up. It was a long steel rod looking like a series of increasing round, steel balls on top of each other. Five in all. Yvonne oiled it carefully and then handed it to the Master.

“Turn round and bend over, bitch! You’re going to love this. I want you to count the balls as they go in. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master!”

Jeanette took hold of her shoulders.

“Spread wide and relax, bitch! Use your hands to spread for me.”
She put a hand on each buttock and pressed herself open. The first ball went in. Her anus retracting a little behind it.

“One!”
A push and the next – and bigger ball went in.

“Two!”
So it continued, each ball being bigger than the last, and each time her anus closing a little on the other side of it – but the diameter got bigger and bigger – both the balls and the smaller part between them.

She moaned and gasped more and more, but eventually she had counted five, and felt the cold steel plate against the sides of her anus.

A metallic sound and something went between her legs.

“Stand up, bitch!”
With a little help from Jeanette she got into upright position again. The sound she had heard was a neoprene-lined metal strip, that was attached to the back of the belt, now he swung it under her and up.

“Now say goodbye to even your clit, bitch!”
He pressed the plate in position. It had a many-holed shield over the slit, where her ring and clit stuck out.

If she wanted to touch her clit, the ring or her inner labia, she would have to use a very, very thin object through the holes. The shield also pressed her clit ring towards the first shield making it pull slightly on the clit. Another padlock – half way up the front plate - made sure, this last, front plate stayed in position.

“All done, bitch. Enjoy your ride home.” He turned and walked down.

Jeanette and Yvonne each picked a set of keys off the trolley and quickly relieved her of the cuffs and collar.

She massaged her wrists and neck. For the first time in more than two months, she was without these items - she felt naked and cold round her neck, wrists and ankles.

There was also some clothing on the trolley: A white cotton blouse with long sleeves and buttons at the wrists. The front closed by a long Velcro-band.

‘Of course’, she thought. A quick pull and the front would open. Not buttons or zippers – just Velcro.’

The black skirt just covered her knees – and the still visible marks from Lonnie’s whipping a few days ago.

Although she had always been a quick healer, she still had brownish and yellowish stripes all over the insides of her legs. The skirt had a relative wide middle part, showing her small waistline, but was plaited so that it stuck out over her hips and fell elegantly down.

Finally they fitted her with her own shoes. Somebody had taken the time to polish them – she noticed.

A pair of simple steel handcuffs secured her wrists to her back – apparently it was not quite over yet.
She was called to the fireplace and asked to kneel.

She had been kneeling there so many times – always naked or semi-naked - on display. This was the first time she was fully dressed.

The first Master called her over. Directed her to give him a head-job. As it was her last duty at ‘The Society’, she did her utmost. After all it would be terrible if they decided on this her last effort that she needed to stay.

Of course she had to service more Masters – five in all, and again she did her very best in satisfying them. She never missed a drop but swallowed all they had in them.

Two men in ‘civilian’ clothing picked her up from The Hall, marched her through the place and down to the garage. The car appeared to be the same that had taken her here, when she first came to be trained. A big, black Mercedes with covered windows.

They sat on the back seat. A man on each side of her and the handcuffs cutting into her wrists on her back.

They rode in silence.

A little over an hour later, the car stopped, they made her lean forward, took the handcuffs off, handed her the handbag and a plastic shopping bag with the clothes she had worn when she first got into this car, which seemed to be very, very long ago.

She discovered later that her knickers, bra, stockings and stocking holder were missing

One of the men jumped out and held the door for her. She stepped into the sunshine and blinked against the light.

The car was far down the street, when she had gotten used to the sharp light and found her bearings again.

She recognized the place. It was just round the corner and 500 meters from her home.

The first steps she took were quite awkward. She felt she walked like she had done in her pants. The CB and the rods inside her, her squeezed and tormented clit and the pressed outer labia were annoying her with every step.

Even so, she tried to walk as quickly as she could. Hoping she would not meet anybody she knew. She was very much aware of the ear- and nose rings – and her slim waist. She might be able to explain the slim waist – but certainly not why she had spikes in her face like a punker.

Chapter eighteen
There’s no place like home – or?
Before continuing, I need to give a description of Catherine’s flat.

She had been very, very lucky to buy one of the few small apartments in the old city, for a sum more than reasonable and before prices went through the roof. The building was from 1793 and under The National Preservation Act, meaning that it had to be maintained at a certain standard, and even the smallest repair or modification had to be approved by several state offices.

The façade was yellow plaster and it had visible, heavy beams in all the flats and the staircase.

Her flat consisted of one spacious living room, a small bedroom, a comfortable toilet/bath combined and a small entranceway. It even had a kitchen big enough for a stove, washing machine, dishwasher and cupboards with assorted chinaware and utensils.

She had furnished it with articles from some of the many second hand shops down the side streets in that part of town. She had a very large oak dining table in one end of the living room, with four almost matching chairs, a ‘relaxing area’ in the other end with her TV, a round table, two easy chairs and a heavy leather sofa.

The living room windows had a view all the way down an adjoining street. Even there, she had been lucky. Most flats in the street only had a view to the flats on the other side of the street, but she had a lovely long view and even a church tower at the end.

A solid oak two-person bed occupied the bedroom. It was not a four-poster (thank god!), but did have square posts about half her height in each corner.

On one of the walls she had had a carpenter construct a floor to ceiling cupboard, holding all her clothes.
--
She sat on the floor, leaning her back against the front door, and looked round at the familiar things. She had been away for almost three months – and what months it had been!

She had had more sex, than she had had all her life up to the point, when she went to ‘The Society’. Her body was physically different than before – she did not know about her mind, but was sure the training had had some effect on it – she hoped it would not be a lasting influence.

The flat chains across her buttocks gradually became more and more annoying as they were pressed against her skin by the hard floor.

She got up and gave her mail, which was lying in several piles on the dining table, a short glance, and went into the toilet

She took all her clothes off, turned in front of the mirror, went back and found the box with the pliers in her handbag. After fumbling quite a bit, she managed to get rid of the rings in her ears and nose. She drew air through her nose several times, and rubbed it with a finger.

She was still galvanized by the taste of semen in her mouth and throat so she brushed her teeth thoroughly.

She had the strange sensation of seeing her natural face without makeup in the mirror. Something she had only seen mornings and evenings at ‘The Society’.

She tried if the pliers could be used on the rings in her nipples. They did not fit and she could not get anything resembling a grip on them. The pliers apparently only fitted the nose and earrings.

Turning again and looking at the locks on the back of her corset, pulling a little at the Chastity Belt without much results, she decided there was not much more she could do now. She needed to get into some decent clothes.

On her way to the bedroom, she passed the mail again – and stopped cold. Why was her mail on the table, and not in the steel thread mailbox hanging inside the main door under the mail slit?

She looked through the mail. One pile only contained a job offer from a competing magazine, which lifted her mood several degrees. The answering date was still a few days away. Great! The first stroke of good luck, she had had in a long time.

The second pile was mostly advertisements and finally the third pile held the bills, she regularly received on the few things she did not have automatic payment for. Her phone and her TV-subscription that she for some reason had never gotten round to fix with automatic payment. More ominous, it also held the receipts for payments been done on the outstanding bills.

Suspicion rose in her mind, but after all, they had had all her personal things – in her bag, so they had had access to her keys – and flat.

Thoughtful she went into the bedroom, and opened the cupboard.
She startled. In the end, a quarter of the cupboard had a new addition: A metal steel cabinet looking like a giant safe. Key- and code locked.

Why on earth had they installed that? She rejected the thought and looked into the cupboard. The first thing, she noticed was that all her trousers had gone. Most of her dresses and blouses were also missing. Instead dresses and blouses that she had never seen before, hung neatly on the hangers. They were all tailor made or had a very good ‘trade mark’ quality, but they all had one thing in common: Accessibility.

All the blouses were adapted with Velcro locking in front – just like the one she had just left on the floor of her bathroom. All the skirts and dresses were either short or wide, or both. Dresses that could easily be pulled up. She felt a chill down her spine.

She opened the drawer with her underwear. All her old underwear had gone! The contents were folded in neat piles. She picked a pair of knickers up and held then out in front of her. There was no bottom in this pair. They were split down the middle, so if she put them on, nothing would cover her down her front and up to the elastic on the back.

She checked a couple more. They were all expensive, elegant and laced, but none had any material to cover her cunt or anus!

The ‘best’ pair, she found had overlapping pieces. They looked like a normal pair when she held them up, but it was obvious that if she spread her legs wearing them, the centre would open – completely! Finding nothing else, she decided on this pair.

She went on to check her bras. Same story: none of the older models. Elegant and expensive new models, but at most, what one with a bit of good will could consider a half-cup. They all opened in the front. She found the one most likely to pass for a half-cup. She tried it on. The lace on the top edge just barely covered the bottom of her areolas. They did lift and support her orbs making them stand up and parted very much like the two ‘uniforms’ she had worn at ‘The Society’. It would have to do for now.

They had not touched her overcoats or shoes, but both had new additions – again of the best quality. The shoes were mostly high heels – very high heels. Se recognized a pair of Louboutin’s – and she knew what price level they sold for.

All her new clothes were from the best fashion houses. Clothes she would never be able to afford on her journalist wages, but they were all either ‘Easy Access’-models, like the wide skirts and the bulky wool blouses, that could be pulled up in a jiffy, or were modified, like the blouses with the Velcro. And then there were the underwear – also in some of the most expensive brands. Beautiful and elegant lace, but no models than in any way could hide or protect her female parts!

She opted for the blouse she had been wearing coming home. No point in changing that since all the other blouses in her cupboard were more or less the same, and the cotton one on the floor in her toilet were bulky enough to hide her shape, and more important: Not show the rings.

She did find a longer dress, with a smaller and wider waistline. She could wear it loosely. It would sit on her hips, and thus hide her slim waist.

She put the items on the dining table, including the blouse from her toilet. She had always been neat.

She looked in the kitchen. It looked the same way she had left it. So much more surprising, when she opened the fridge, and found it contained fresh milk, salads and other basic necessities. She had gotten used to light diets at ‘The Society’. The compression of her insides by the corseting had reduced her appetite considerably, and with all the anal sex, they were never fed red meat or anything heavy.

Before she had always been a light eater, so it suited her perfectly.

She opened her drawer with the few tools she possessed. Found an old ‘metal clipper thingy’ in the far back, and went back to the toilet.

The corset was no match for the clipper. It cut through it like paper. Soon she could carefully pull and slowly edge it past the Chastity belt and down on the floor. The Chastity belt and the rings were too much of a match.
She could cut the neoprene edge and make a small dent in the side of the shield using all her strength, but the rings in her tits showed absolutely no trace of her efforts.

She gave up. Got a glass of milk, put on her bathrobe and sank down in one of the easy chairs.

Sitting a little and trying to figure out what to do next, her eyes rested at the foot of her dining table. There was something wrong there…

She got up and kneeled down beside the leg of the table. On the inside, a strong metal angle had been screwed to the leg, and into the floor. It had then been tainted like the leg and floor so it would not be noticeable at an immediate inspection. She tried pushing the table, but it was firmly screwed into the floorboards.

The bolts/Screws holding in the heavy metal angle had clutch heads – meaning they could be screwed in, but not out again. All four legs were fastened to the floor in this way.

A suspicion struck her. Quickly she went to the bedroom – and of course: The bed was also screwed to the floor in the same way.

She looked closer. On each of the posts of the bed, steel rings were now embedded. They too were not visible at first, since they had almost the same colour as the oak, Looking up she discovered several rings in the massive beams overhead.

The same with her dining table – in the ceiling above there were several camouflaged rings. The more she looked, the more rings she found.

On strategic spots all over the flat these nasty, heavy rings were embedded and camouflaged carefully.

One had to look close to find them, and then they looked like they had been there always.

When she finally sat down, she had realized they had turned her flat into something not unlike the rooms at ‘The Society’. They certainly meant business! – but she was convinced never to see them again or have anything to do with them – and tomorrow or maybe the day after, she would have the locks on her front door changed – and then take care of the rings in the beams and the permanent securing of her furniture.

As she could do no more tonight, she cleaned herself and went to bed. In the firm belief that she was alone, and would not be woken in the middle of the night for a fuck or a whipping, she fell into a soft, dreamless sleep.
--
In a small room at ‘The Society’, someone else was closing down for the night. John had just come in the door: “How are we doing?”
“Fine. She has just gone to bed.”

He looked at the monitors on the wall. This section of four monitors showed Cat’s apartment from different angles. One of them was a camera directly above her.

“Has she behaved herself?”
“Of course not. She has ruined a good corset and had a go at the rings and CB – but no luck there of course.”
“Ok. We will se if she appears for her date tomorrow, if not we will intervene. We should always give them the benefit of the doubt!”

‘Right on. I think she is in trouble, but let’s see if she will surprise me. She can always claim that the corset was giving her trouble – even though she should have used the emergency number in such case!”

“Never mind. She is not the first one to behave like this. We have tried it more than once before. It can be fixed easily. No problem.”
“Good night then.”
“Night night!”

He looked down the line were other operators followed other girls in the ‘privacy’ of their homes.
--
She woke early the next morning. Had some cereal with milk.

Her old pack had been replaced with a new one of the same brand. Not only had the filled her fridge with fresh produce, they had also replaced what she had in bags and packages in her kitchen with new ones. ‘Very thoughtful of them’! She mused.

She dressed in the clothes she had selected last night – better than nothing, but there would be amble time to get new clothes later. She had more pressing problems. She did a quick search of the Internet, and was out the door.

On the stairs she met her neighbour: An elderly lady.

“Hello, my dear. You’ve been away. On holiday perhaps?”
“Yes Mrs Peterson”

She felt more than a little uneasy that the always-observant lady would notice any difference in her appearance.

“You’ve had some redecorating done while you were away? Quite a racket they made, but they were only here two days.”
“I hope you have not been bothered, but you know: sometimes one needs to have things done.”
“Not at all. They were very nice and friendly. One of them even fixed the clothes rack in my hall. You know the one that fell down last winter. He did not even want money – or coffee for that matter!”
“I’m glad to hear that. Hope you are well?”
“Quite. Age you know. Age. But I suppose it can’t be helped.”

She looked up and down her: “You’ve lost weight. My dear?”
She blushed: “Well. Active holiday and all that.”
“I suppose you are right. Young people today”. She shook her head. “Try not to get too thin. Its’ not healthy, and you are fine as you are.”
“Thank you Mrs Peterson, but I need to get going. I’m a little pressed for time.”
“Yes, see you then – you youngsters are always in such a hurry…”

She jumped down the stairs, two steps at a time, trying to do it in a normal way in spite of her ‘steel underwear’ and the rods. It had worked. She had not noticed anything other than she had lost weight. Good!

Chapter nineteen
Getting back to normal – sort of
Half an hour later she stepped into a small machine- and repair shop down by the old harbour.

It smelled of oil, grease and men at work.

She got a few low whistles as she walked across the floor to the glass cage at the back.

There was a little, elderly man sitting behind a very messy desk.

He had day old stubble and a cup of coffee in front of him. The cup had not seen any form of cleaning or dishwashing for a very long time.
The walls were covered with the kind of posters where opulent young girls in less than bikinis advertised heavy machinery equipment.

He looked up and smiled.

“Well hello, hello. How may I be of service young lady? Have a seat.”
He pointed to a chair across from the desk. She sat on the edge.

“Ahem… I..have… a..bit of…ahem…problem…it’s a little special..”
“Let’s have a look at it. You think I can help you?”
“Yes. I need something that can cut though steel plate. Do you have that?”
“Depends on the plate, we have acetylene cutters that burn through tanks and mechanical cutters that cut most thinner metal plates. Could you tell or show me the item in question.”

She looked him in the eyes.

“It’s a bit delicate and private. Promise me you won’t laugh or turn me away?”
“Can’t do that, young one. But I’ll do my best. Shall we have a look?"

He leaned sideways and looked at her round the side of the desk as if he suspected her having a medium sized tank in tow.

She stood up. Walked over to him. Parted her dress and blouse in one side so a part of the belt and the main lock was visible.

He could hardly help laughing. She could see him trying hard to keep his neutral look.

“Well. I have never seen any of those. Your boyfriend lost the key?”

She blushed.

“Something like that. Can you please help me?”
He stuck a pair of dirty fingers with even dirtier nails out, forced one behind the edge of the plate and felt it (There was just room for his finger after the corset had gone.).

“No problem, young lady. We’ll have you out of it in no time”
“I need you to cut about here, here and here, please!”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job, young lady.”

He got up, opened the door and shouted out in the room: “Christian. Stop wasting time. Get the mechanical cutter and come in here.”

A few minutes later a young red-haired boy with a pale skin and lots of freckles came in with an impressive tool in his hands. The tool had a long tube going out the door.

“This is Christian – our treasured apprentice. Christian meet…?”
“Catherine.” She quickly replied.
“Christian – Catherine. Catherine – Christian.”

“Now Christian. Catherine here has a rather special problem that you are going to solve for her. If I hear the slightest snickering or untimely comments from you – you be sorting the metal scrap for a month. Is that clear?”

He blushed, and she felt a little sorry for the boy of about 16 being treated this way.”
“Yes, boss!”

The old guy got up. Quickly let the dirty blinds fall down in front of all the windows to the glass cage, creating a small dust storm in the room.

“So. Catherine. Now you may show Christian the problem.”

She got up and pulled down in the skirt and up in the blouse, revealing the CB.
He more than blushed. His face turned the same colour as his hair. All the freckles disappeared in the colour of his face.

Very gently he slid one of the jaws of the big tool in on the inside of the CB belt were there was just enough room because of the now missing corset.

A few very noisy minutes later, he was through the belt. She directed him to the top of the front plate with the small holes. As it was elevated from the main plate by the bent edges, he cut through the edge first, and then got a grip on the plate itself. Again it took only minutes before the front shield were cut through. Finally he cut the big inner plate. She held all the pieces close to her as they were cut so they would not fall down or reveal any more of her than she already had exposed.

“So. all done!” He said.
“Do you have a toilet, I can use, please?”
“Of course. The door on your right. Just outside.

She hurried out while still holding the belt.

In the toilet she dropped her skirt, took the CB off very carefully, especially getting the clit ring and her outer labia back through the slit caused problems. She extracted the two dildos and put them in a plastic carrier bag, she had brought along for this purpose.

She had one last look in the stained mirror. Her middle was still very slim. It would take a while for her body to recover from the long constriction of her waist, and to loose the hourglass shape she now had.

What a relief. She sighed deeply, pulled her skirt and knickers up again, and went out, holding the belt in her hands.

When she came back to the office, he had raised the blinds and Christian was back at his workplace making a lot of sparks doing something.

She placed the remains of the belt on the floor.

“Thank you. Thank you. You don’t know how much you have helped me!”
“That’s’ ok. Just don’t hope your boyfriend will come down here with a shotgun!”
“No chance. This is our little secret,” she smiled at him.

“Well young lady. Anything else I can help you with?”
“…mmmmmm….I do have another problem…but it is even more intimate…”
This time he kept a poker face as he said: “Can I have a look, please?”

She paused for a short while.

“I suppose so. I need something else removed.”

She pulled at the Velcro, pushed the blouse down over her left breast and said: “This!”

His eyes widened. Then he leaned over and looked intensely at the tits and ring.
“May I touch it?”
“Yes. Please do…” She was full of hope.

Gently his dirty fingers lifted the ring up, he produced a magnifying glass and studied it. For a long time.

Finally he sighed: “Sorry. That kind of high quality material can only be cut with a diamond cutter, or a welding flame. The first I do not have, and the last would be absolutely too painful for you. I would not advise it. Can’t you get whoever mounted it in the first place to remove it?”

“No. Not really. They claim it is permanent. I must admit it is I that has been a fool, but thanks anyway. How much do I owe you for the CB?”
“Nothing. It was not really a job, and we are just too happy to help. Never done anything like it!”

She pulled out a bottle of really good, vintage vodka she had bought on her way down there.
“This is for you. You don’t know how happy I am for your help.”
“Thank you, young lady.”

“…and one last thing: Do treat Christian kindly. It must have been a first for him too!”

He snickered: “It’s workshop ‘dialect’; we always talk to each other this way. Christian is a very skilled young man. He might go far in life after finishing his apprenticeship.”
“Well – thank him many times. He more than saved my day, week, month, year…. bye now.”
“...and do come again if there’s anything we can do for you.”

She got a few more whistles going out of the place – but not from Christian. He was careful to keep his head down over whatever he was doing at his workbench.

‘That ought to give them something to talk about during lunch break’ She thought with a smile.
--
On her way back, she strolled past the Beauty Parlour. Not that she had any intentions of writing anything about her adventure – it had gotten too close to her innermost self, but she still wanted to see if she could get any useful information from the people there. If nothing else tell them that they had cheated her making her believe that the laser treatment only removed the hair temporarily.

At the beginning at ‘The Society’ she had expected her hair to begin growing out again. She noticed that all the women, she saw were as hairless as her, but did not put much into it. She knew that most forms of hair removal had to be maintained, and thought that was what they did. When time passed, and no hair began to grow, she slowly realized that it was a permanent condition, and that no hair would grow in the places that had been treated – ever again!

As it was definitely not her biggest problem at the time, she had come to terms with it.

Now she boldly entered the shop.

It was a different receptionist behind the counter.
“Hello. How may I help you?”

“I’d like to inquire about a laser hair removal?” As it was a different receptionist, she thought she would play it out this way. Hoping that one of the women, that had treated her – preferably Susanne would come out to explain the details of the process – and then she would confront her.

“ehhh. We don’t do that here. We only do massages, beauty masks, nails and toes and other common beauty treatments.”

She was stunned. That could not be right. She was sure it was the right place.

“..but…but.. I had it done here, and I have some questions. Can I speak to the manager, please?”
“ahem..one moment, please.”

A woman she did not know either emerged from the door. She was not wearing a white coat, but nice fashion correct clothing. She held out her hand and said: “Hello. I’m Greta. How may I help you?”

She gave the woman the same story she had given the receptionist.

The woman explained that laser treatments were only done by qualified people – and that they did not have such in the place. There was no way, she would have had such a treatment here, and was she sure this was the right place? She also offered to find a place that did these treatments, and suggested a waxing or plucking, which they did do.

The walls seemed to fall down on her. She insisted to Greta that she had had exactly such a treatment done her about 3 months ago.

Greta explained again that she must be mistaken – and then looked thoughtful for a few long minutes.
“We do lease this place to the ‘Cosmetic School’ once in a while (and she mentioned the address of the school on the outskirts of town). They use the premises a couple of times a month to train their pupils. We appreciate the income, as you might know the rent of a shop like this has a pretty steep prize, location and so on – but I’m sure they do not do anything as advanced as laser treatments.”

She was not the least interested in prizes of shop space in the inner city, but insisted on seeing the two back rooms.

As the woman saw her gradually state off agitation, she reluctantly agreed to show her the rooms.

The room where she had been treated looked exactly the same. That is to say not quite: Instead of the white treatment board there was a low padded massage bench in the middle, and there was no mirror in the ceiling.
The cupboards and chairs were all there.

She again insisted. This time to see the room across the hall. The room she had been measured and photographed in.

It was totally empty. Greta explained that they had not gotten round to fixing this room up yet, and that they had plenty of rooms along the hall to serve their present number of customers.

When they came out into the hallway again, Cat noticed a door at the end with a matte glass window. She opened this door and looked out into a loading ramp and a small yard. So this was where they had brought the things in and out.

Back in the reception she calmed down. She was sure the two women considered her more or less deranged.

She asked how they made their arrangements with the school, and was given an e-mail address, which apparently was their only contact information. It was ‘thesociety023@hotmail.com’, and the women did not seem to think it odd.

She realized that these mail accounts were established as needed by ‘The Society’, and that the mail account, used to inform her at the beginning: ‘thesociety183@hotmail.com’ would probably be untraceable – if it had not been deleted.

When they showed her the appointment diary, she thought that the ‘rental days’ probably matched the times, she had been here for treatments.

She walked out in a daze, sat down outside the first Café she passed, ordered coffee and found the phone number to ‘The Cosmetic School’. After having talked to several persons, she was convinced that the school had no such arrangement with ‘The Beauty Parlour’. The school was state financed and definitely did not have means to rent external space in the city, she was told.

It took two cups of coffee for her to calm down before she could proceed back to her home.

Chapter twenty
The lesson
Back in her flat, she wrapped the dildos carefully and disposed of them in the container in the back yard.

She wrote her notice for George and an acceptance note to the new job – and mailed them.

Feeling quite happy with that, she spent the rest of the afternoon – on the Internet and on the phone – trying to find someone, who could cut Titanium-Magnesium steel alloys, which was what the guy in the Machine Shop had told her it probably was, but she did not find anything useful.

The appointment - she had no intention of keeping - was at four that afternoon. The note in her bag just said the time, and that she should be at the corner of the street of her apartment.

Around dinnertime, she went out again. Only to take the short walk to the nearest take-away and get a Chinese dinner.
--
What she did not know was that the hidden cameras in her apartment were fully manned.

The minute, she went out the door, a phone call was made from the monitoring room. A man sitting outside the Café across from her building answered it, and a few minutes later he locked himself in her apartment.

He went straight to the fridge. Took the opened carton of milk out, and emptied the contents of a syringe into it.
He shook it lightly, put it back, closed the door and was out of there.

The whole thing had taken less than two minutes. Out in the street, he walked round the corner, and got into a car where three other men were sitting.

Unsuspecting she came back, opened the dinner. Poured a glass of cold milk from the fridge and sat down to eat.
45 minutes later, she felt tired – very tired.

After all it had been a very long day, so she was not particularly alarmed by her sudden tiredness.

She hardly had the energy to undress, but managed, and fell on the bed and went into a deep sleep
--
When the webcam operator had looked at her sleeping and heard her slight snoring for a short while, he made another phone call – to the four men in the car in the side street.

They were a carefully selected crew. Picked from the young servants at ‘The Society’.

As opposed to Lonnie they had proven themselves to be absolutely incorruptible, skilled in SM, pain and punishments, and always loyal to the orders they received. These orders this evening regarded Catherine – unfortunately for her.

A few minutes later, they were in her apartment. They dumped a couple of sports bags on the floor with a thud.

In the bedroom they pulled her cover off, and one of them lifted an arm and let it fall. No reaction. Another pinched on the inside of one of her legs hard with two fingers. Again no reaction. Then they went to work.

The strongbox in her cupboard was opened. From there she was fitted with her personal cuffs and collar. She was turned on her stomach. Her wrists and elbows were locked together with the cuffs, and so were her ankles. They spread her knees, and bent her legs up behind her back. Pressing her together as they connected a chain between the elbow and the ankle cuffs.

She had been snoring away while they did this. Now she began to make small noises and move her head slightly as she came round again.

Her head was spinning and she felt nauseas as she slowly woke. She sensed that she was without her duvet and felt slightly cold. Her head rested to one side on the sheet. She tried moving a little, but her arms did not obey her and her legs felt slightly numb. Maybe she had slept too heavily, so that her limbs had gone numb. She lay still for a while with her eyes closed as she, gradually came to her senses.

A small alarm began ringing at the far back of her mind.

She tried moving again and moaned slightly. Then she sensed someone in the room.

A hand grabbed her hair – hard – pulled her head up, and placed a ball gag on her jaw, and ‘turned’ it into her mouth. Giving her the familiar sense of the jaw almost going out of joint.

“What…no…What the FUCK…mmmmphhhh…”, was all she managed to say before she was silenced.

While the first hand still held her head, other hands buckled the gag with straps under her jaw, behind and over her head. It was big and tightly strapped. She bit into it involuntarily, and the strap round the back of her head stretched her lips. Efficiently dampening and shutting out all the noises she tried to make.

They let go of her and stood up.

She wriggled some more, turned her head from side to side and felt the collar round her neck. She knew she was in trouble! Lying there bundled up like a Christmas parcel.

Her knees were forced further apart and someone pressed down on her bent knees, while someone else tightened the connecting chain. Now it really hurt!

“Get her up. Mover her to the table!”

They lifted her by her shoulders and knees and carried her to the dining table, where they placed her on her stomach.

A chain was put on the back of her collar, a hand lifted her forehead up and back, and the chain from the back of the collar was connected to the elbow cuffs.

They left her alone. She felt like choking. The collar chain was tight – very tight.

“We need her totally quiet”.
Hands grabbed her head, and gaffer tape was wound round covering the ball gag.

“Lets see if this works shall we?”
A hand grabbed her clit ring and pulled hard on it while turning.
“….mmmmmmMMMMMMMmmmm…” The sorry, low noises were all she could achieve although the pain went through her body like lightning!
“Seems all right. Fine.”

In the distance she heard her coffee machine hum. They were even making coffee!

The coffee machine finished, and they all sat down enjoying the brew, and watching her on the table. They had pulled the four chairs out, and were forming a circle around her.

Her bound limbs hurt, and the collar was choking her. She could taste the Chinese take-away deep down her throat.

As she was facing the bedroom, she noticed that the metal stronghold in her cupboard was open. She could see the side of the heavy door – and it dawned on her. Of Course! The safe contained the cuffs and collar, she was wearing now and all her other restraints. Not only had they turned her flat into a torture chamber, they had also provided storage for the instruments of her ‘slavery’.

Somehow it made perfect sense. She realized the true meaning of all the times, she had been told, that she would never return to her old life. They certainly meant business.

As she tried to avoid thinking of what might come, she went back in her mind and recalled sentences and meanings that she had been told all along. Why on earth had she been so stupid? Nobody had told her she could just go back to her old life – on the contrary – everybody had told her that this was serious – and for good – or at least till they saw fit to release her.

She thought of the effects of her training. After she had gotten back, she had not crossed or put her legs together once. She had not closed her mouth without really concentrating on it, and then noticing a few minutes later, that it was slightly open like it had been all the time during her training.

The habit of ending every sentence with ‘Master’, ‘Mistress’, ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’ had also been difficult quit. She had almost called the old lady next door: Mistress more than once in their short conversation, and the same with the women at The Beauty parlour – and the guy in the machine shop.

That – and all the other little changes in her behaviour – went through her mind.

She also tried comparing her present self, with her old self. The independent, inquisitive journalist, who would never be told what to do – by anyone, and who went for an ‘experience’ at a secret club outside town – to the obedient, willing, and ready slave, she had turned into. A tool to satisfy her superiors anytime and anyway.

Again she returned to what she saw as the primary advantage: She had no responsibility – for anything, as long as she ‘went with the flow’, and it was rather a nice feeling. As long as she did, what she was told, she could relax.

And it had its obvious advantages. She was adored, loved, cherished by almost all the men and women around her. She could hold her head up proudly and know that she was a much-desired person. Before she had often been in doubt if she could live up to this person, or that boyfriend’s expectation. Now she knew that she literally had them by the balls. The true meaning of ‘Topping-From-The-Bottom’ began to dawn on her.

There was no cheating or pretence – everything was honest and above board. She did not have to think twice about anything.

As she thus was convincing herself of the advantages of her new life, the men had finished their coffee.

They got up. “We had better begin.”

They turned on the radio – and increased the volume. Not to any extreme degree, but a little louder than it would normally be.

A hand grabbed her hair and a face got close to hers: “I see that you have been very naughty, bitch!”
“…mmmmpppmmm…”
“Yes – very naughty indeed. You ruined a perfectly good corset and CB – and lost your little inserts. On top of that, you failed to appear for your appointment. Seems like you have been let out too soon. Maybe we should take you back to your beloved cellar for a while? Hm! For as long as it takes for you to learn to behave? Hm!”
Her eyes widened and she looked sideways at him.

“….MMMMMMMPPPPHHH….”
“I know. I know. You wont like that, you wont like that at all, bitch. Will you know?”

She tried shaking her head and emanating even more sounds.

“Fortunately for you, we always give the bitches one chance. So listen carefully: This is you one chance! When we leave here, you will have been given a new appointment for tomorrow. If you fail to appear, are late, or in any way act up, you will find yourself back in the cellar – very fast! Do I make myself clear?”

She tried nodding, choking herself even more, and made more noises.

“I take that as a yes! Bitch! Good choice!”

He got up, released her hair, and unlocked the chain behind her collar. Her forehead made a bumping sound as her head fell to the table. She turned her head and tried to find some rest on the hard surface.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw one of them appearing with the small ladder that usually hung behind the kitchen door. They all wore masks covering everything but their jaws and eyes and she had not recognized the voice of the man speaking to her. Even their eyes were covered with a thin see-through material, so one would not be able to see the colours or shape of their eyes.

He stepped up beside the table and she heard a swishing sound and, felt the end of the rope land on her back. She cursed the rings that had been mounted everywhere in the beams of her the flat.
--
Her ankles were released and her legs unfolded. They were quite numb from the restrained position they had been forced into for so long. She was pulled by her ankles to the end of the table. Her body sliding on the smooth surface of the table.

Her legs were bent down at the hips. Things had been prepared: Around the bottom legs of the table, a leather strap had been tied. On the outside was a ring to which her ankle cuffs were attached.

Her wrists were attached to the rope from the ring in the ceiling beam, and pulled up, and up, and up till she felt as if her shoulders were going to dislocate.

The man’s face again appeared right in front of hers: “Nice to stretch out after being folded like that – right?”

She made the noises she hoped would resemble a yes followed by noises of pain and agony.

She heard his voice again: “She likes to stretch out. Give it a little more!”

Her upper body was now off the table her arms almost vertical into the air. She tried her best screaming from the pain, but of course only a meek sound came out.

They attached a couple of heavy weights to each of her nipple rings and eager hands made them swing from side to side, lifted them up and let them fall – all causing her the greatest pain.

Then came the caning. It was something else. They had chosen a thick cane that made almost bloody stripes and welts across her buttocks. With long intermissions between each stroke, she had amble time to prepare for the next one. She did not get that many, but they were in a set of almost perfect horizontal lines from the start of her soft buttocks to the beginning of her legs. Later she found she had trouble sitting down for almost a week and preferred very soft chairs.

The radio efficiently covered the noise of the heavy cane and the meek sounds she was able to make.

When they finished, her body shook uncontrollably. She tried very hard to compose herself, but kept on shaking for a long while. They seemed to enjoy that. One even commented that a good caning had that effect. The deep pain made the body shiver and shake.

They loosened the rope holding her arms a little. Enough for her to move slightly, but still very, very painful. Each time the rope was tied to a ring embedded in the horizontal beam in the wall next to the table. It was all very solid – much too solid.

Of course they had her. Two of them. First one oiled her cunt. Not since she had had her unfortunate encounter with George had she been dry, when someone entered her – but she was so now. He made the weights in her nipples swing as he took her hard. It hurt every time his legs hit the fresh welts on her butt, and it was the first time, since her encounter with George that she did not have any pleasure from sex.

Afterwards, another got the small stool from the kitchen to stand on in order to be at level with her anus – that was also oiled – and then taken just as violently.

All the time the radio was playing ‘easy listening’ music at a little above normal volume.

They had more coffee and left her alone for a while.

Then brought her upright, and took the weights off her nips.

“Now, bitch. Have you learned the lesson?”
She nodded energetically.

“Good. Good. You are aware that this is your last and final chance?”
Again she nodded energetically as she felt semen dripping out of her and running down the insides of her legs.

They produced a fresh corset. This one very heavy leather, hitches on the front and straps on the back..

“You only have to thank yourself for this. This corset is a more solid model. It has steel plate reinforcements. You wont be able to cut that off easily.’

Another man came out of the kitchen with the pliers she had used to cut the first corset.
He caught her left tit right above the ring with its jaws, and pressed lightly. A quick further press would cut off the nip.
She stood very, very still.

“We’ll confiscate this – And if we ever find you in possession of something similar, it will be worse for you.”

He gave it a light press, hurting her, and making her give another shriek – if one could call that a shriek.
He let the pliers disappear in one of their sports bags.

The corset was same size as usual, so it was no problem for her, but it was definitely heavier and more solid. In some of the corsets one had the feeling one could straighten ones back, and maybe have a little room to manoeuvre. This one held the posture, made her breasts stick out, and parted them with a small build-in cup under each - with absolutely no room to spare.

They presented her with a very large plug. This one had not 5 but 8 ‘balls’ and was long and fat. The bottom of it was mounted in the middle of a very long, heavy leather strap.

By lifting her arms again by the rope from the ceiling she was forced to bend forward.
She heard the slurping sound as the thing was greased.

“Since you ruined a perfectly good CB, and since you have gotten wiser now, we will do something different.”

A pair of hands spread her buttocks and slowly the thing went inside her. One ‘ball’ at a time, causing her ever increasing pain as she was expanded.

She let her forehead rest on the table when he eventually said. “So. All done. Perfect fit – as usual.”
The strap went up to the back of her corset, was buckled and padlocked.

She was moved upright once again.

Her feet were released, she was turned, her legs forced apart. Another – equally large and fat dildo went into her vagina. The strap from the anal-plug was pulled under her, between the two labia rings – and the outer labia’s – through the clit ring and up the middle front of her corset. Buckled and padlocked.

They finished the ‘ensemble’ with a heavy padlock through the two labia rings.

Then she was admired. They all agreed that it suited her well. One even expressed ‘the poetic beauty of filling her up with sperm and then plugging her afterwards’.

Nodding as she was asked if she was going to keep quiet, they removed the gag, the collar and cuffs and made her kneel with parted knees on the floor in front of her own leather chairs, sofa and low table.

When she knelt, she automatically crossed her arms on her back – another ‘learned reflex’ from her training, she thought.

The radio was turned off, the strongbox had been closed and locked, and her flat generally looked like it had done before. The only difference and strange thing – if an outsider would have looked in, was her sitting on the floor in all her naked, caned, corseted and plugged beauty.

After another short ‘interrogation’ to which she answered satisfactory, she had to give the last two a blowjob each.

Then they left her kneeling on the floor with the fresh taste of cum in her mouth.

She stayed in that position for almost half an hour. Bringing her breathing down to normal. Then staggered to her feet, supporting herself by the table and went to the bathroom. Found some ointment, which she very gently and carefully applied to her behind.

She got back into bed. Looked at the clock. It had all taken about 3 hours. 3 short hours to convince her that she was theirs – now and forever – and that there was nothing she was going to be able to do about it…..

Chapter twentyone
Getting accustomed
She did not sleep well. Twisting and turning, and when she dozed off, the new items she had been fitted with was very uncomfortable, the marks on her butt burned and she had very unpleasant nightmares of whips and dildos.

Early in the morning she was wide-awake, and decided she might as well get up. The corset was bothering her – as was the two rods in her front and back. Not to mention the thick welts on her buttocks that now had a colour between blue, brown and red on her soft skin.

When she rose from the bed, the padlock immediately reminded her of its existence and position – it was heavy, her outer lips felt sore, and the lock scratched against the insides of her legs.

She had a good look at everything in the mirror in her bathroom, and thought: ‘Silly girl. Look what that got you. Same as before, but now with a very sore, striped ass’.

Fortunately the strap round her bottom had a circular opening right behind the ring in her clit. It had a lining that looked like brass, and made it possible for her to urinate relatively freely.

During breakfast, she thought things over, and decided that her only option was to play along – and then see what would happen. She bathed and dressed, but no makeup!

She would need to go to the toilet to empty herself – probably no later than a day from now, so either she would have to do as before: Somehow get rid of her restraints and the rod in her back, which would be much easier this time, as all she needed was a fresh set of cutters for the leather strap, or she could appear at the date, they had given her – and her restraints would be removed. If nothing else then at least temporary so that she could relieve herself.

She thought about having her locks on her door changed. That could probably be done before nightfall, but they would just pick her up in the street or somewhere outside, which meant she would have to go around in constant fear of being kidnapped one way or the other – and this time she would surely find herself in the dreaded cellar – till they were satisfied they had broken her completely.

She could contact the police. But what would she say? ‘Look officer, I have been mistreated in every possible and impossible way by these people. No. I do not know who they are. No. I do not know where to find them. Yes. I did volunteer in the first place’. It was no good.

She would look like an idiot, or a girl getting in to something she could not see the consequences of – and now she regretted and wanted the police to help her in her revenge.

Even though she though that the documents, she had signed did not have legal validity, she would still have to admit that she had signed them – and god knows what they might fill the blank documents with her signature on with.

Being practical and sensible, she decided she would play along with them and see what would happen. Maybe she would get a chance to get out later.

She dressed and took another, inspecting look in the mirror: The black skirt hung low on her hips, so it was not obvious how narrow her waist had gotten, the blouse was made of heavy, but soft cotton, and had material enough to hide her shape – and more important – the rings.

She had chosen the underwear with most material. It only separated, when she spread her legs, but the rings and the padlock hung down without restraints in the middle between the two sides if the material.

All said and checked she was ready to go out in the world and test herself.

She walked down the stairs. At first she again felt like she was walking as if she had done something in her pants: Legs apart and like a drunkard.

Of course she ran into the neighbour: “Hello, my dear. I heard you had a party last night!”

She blushed slightly. What had she heard?

“No. Not really. Just had some friends over.”
“I just heard the music from your flat when I let the cat out in the back yard. It was not that loud, and you young people should be allowed to have some fun now and then.”
‘Some fun!’ She thought. You should just know, what took place in my flat.
“They all left early. Hope you were not bothered by the noise?”
“Not at all, my dear.”
“Well – see you soon. Take care, Mrs Peterson!”
“You too, my dear!”

She stepped out of the main door. To her left was a door to an antique dealer – one of many in the street. She had often had a beer or a glass of wine with the owner in the small, cosy backyard. He had also helped her getting items for her flat and decorations for her walls.

His main business was to clear flats, when the ‘old lady’ had died. He then picked the best for the shop, and sold the rest on an open-air flea market during the weekends.

His door was open, but he was not to be seen. She looked to the other side. Here – under her flat – was a hairdresser. His shop had been an optician many years ago, and as the whole building was under The Preservation Act, he still had an oversized; brass pair of ‘John Lennon’ round glasses sticking out from the façade.

Naturally his shop was called “Look!”

He was very much gay, and did her hair at regular intervals – at a nominal price. In return, she composed the little ads he placed in the papers from time to time.

He was busy colouring a woman’s hair. Her head filled with alu-foil pieces making her look like an oversized tacky Christmas three.

He looked up, smiled, waved, and with hands and gestures showed her that he thought she should come in to have her hair done soon.

She was glad she did not have to talk to him. He would certainly have noticed one or more of the changes in her body!

She waved back, smiled, and quickly descended the last few steps into the street. She took a deep breath – that is as deep a breath as the corset allowed, which was not much, turned and began to walk slowly down the crowded street.

As said, her street was in the old part of town, and partly a pedestrian one. Very little motorized traffic came through. This being early in the day, a lot of small vans were parked and delivering to the cafés and shops.

The street had a mixture of antique- and second hand dealers, trendy café’s and bar’s, and some fashionable shops with designer clothes, ceramics and art.

Very quickly, she got her walking under control, and managed what she hoped would look natural. She stopped for every few paces to look in a window – or pretend to, but was actually inspecting herself in the glass. She used the parked vans for cover – dodging in and out between them.

She ‘corrected’ the blouse many times, turned to the sides to see if the posture, the corset forced on her body was noticeable.

She got the usual amount of male ‘checking out’ looks, and ignored them doing her best not to look back in their eyes.

She reached the end of the street: A little square with a fountain, crossing roads and bars on the corners.
She choose her favourite spot: ‘Café Europe’, found an outside table in the sun with a good view of the square, and slowly – supporting herself with her arms on the table, descended on a chair. She slid backwards and felt the padlock come to rest in front of her under the skirt and taking the weight off her two wings.

She sat upright without touching the backrest. The waiter came, and she ordered coffee and a croissant, which was served promptly.

She thought she was doing all right, till she tried leaning back. The stiffness of her back made her sit – and look very strange, she thought. She could not bend at the waist, so she felt like a doll being placed on a chair by a child.

She had to hold her hands on the table to get upright again. The couple at the neighbouring table looked surprised at her. She slid her butt back with the help of the armrest, smiled at the couple and said: “Backache, you know!”

They both smiled at her: Yes, looks like your back is locked. Must be painful. Maybe you should see a chiropractor!”
“I have an appointment this afternoon, so it will be ok. Thank for your concern.”
“No problem.”

She started a concentrated survey of the square to avoid any more conversation.

Fortunately the couple had finished and left after a few minutes.

At ‘The Society’ she had had all sorts of other problems, but this was a new experience, she had to adjust to. She pulled again at the blouse to make it sag in front and hide her shape – and rings.

After a while, she left money on the plate, looked round to see that no one was watching her, and then used her hands on the table edge to get up again.

The walk home was uneventful, and she felt, she was getting a good grip on things.

Chapter twentytwo
Walther
At home she took a look at the note they had left for her.
It was printed not handwritten and read: “Slave Cat! You will be picked up at your front door at 16:00 p.m. exactly. You are required to dress casually, no rings in ears or nose. Be there!”
There was no signature.

She spent the day checking her wardrobe and familiarize herself with the clothing available.

Since the note said ‘casual’ she decided to stay with the white, simple blouse and the black skirt. She did exchange the sneakers from her walk with a pair of black heels – though not the most spiked or highest. She had hardly ever worn heels, so she thought she would have to practise, and ‘increase the height’ slowly.
Her walk was silly enough without having to balance on very high heels.

She picked a small, black, matching handbag from one of the more expensive brand houses. Big enough to hold a few necessities: Her makeup, soft cloths, her money, her phone and so on.

She took a long shower. The leather of the corset had apparently been impregnated and the water ran off in little drops. It was tight enough to prevent water getting under it, and she could get a thin, dry washing cloth beneath the strap round her bottom and dry herself reasonably.

She did her makeup – the way it was done at ‘The Society’, put her clothes on and sat in a chair – waiting.
--
A few minutes before four o’clock, she stepped out and descended the staircase.

This time, she did not avoid the hairdresser.
“My, my, Catherine. Are we going out on the town? tsk. tsk”

She gave him her best smile.
“Yes. A girl got to have some fun, now and then you know!”
“You’ve really gone all out on the makeup – haven’t you? Pity you don’t have time for a quick rinse and set. Your hair looks very tired.”

He grabbed some of her hair on one side and lifted it up. Fortunately not enough for him to see her ear. He would certainly have reacted to the visible new, big hole in the lobe.

“Sorry. Maybe tomorrow! Here’s my ride!”

A man in a dark grey chauffeur uniform and cap appeared below the steps. He put his hand to the cap in salutation.

She stepped down the stairs, looked back up at the hairdresser who mouthed silently: ‘Chaufeeeeuuuer’ and turned the white out of his eyes.

She followed the driver to the corner, where he held the door of yet another large Mercedes open for her to get in the back.

The windows were just lightly toned, and there was no division between her and the driver. She could se everything outside, but was hidden from nosy looks the other way.

She pushed back on the seat, and let her stiff back relax against the soft leather. Inspecting the insides of the car. There was a well supplied bar, a fridge, a flat screen TV and other fancy items in the custom made interior.

This was probably as expensive as a Cabinet Minister ride. She could not help enjoying it, even though she was tense as to what they were going to do to her.

Maybe it was the condemned’s last ride, she thought.

The car drove to the North of the city. Out to the part with the big, expensive villas.
--
After a little over half an hour, it turned through a white gate, rounded a grass patch with a statue in the middle, and came to a halt in front of an impressive, white mansion.

The driver got out and opened the door for her. She smiled at him.
They had not spoken at all during the ride. He had not encouraged talk, and she had been sitting in her own thoughts going through her expectations for the evening.

She inspected the facade as the driver closed the door and drove the car round the corner of the mansion, leaving her alone. She stepped up the stairs with her heart pounding, found a polished brass knob in the wall beside the enormous door, pulled it, stepped back and waited.

The door swung up – silently, and an elderly, bald man in a suit opened.

“Good Evening, Miss Catherine! I’m Jones, the butler. I’m to help you out. Please come this way!”
“Jones not James,” she said with a grin, but he had already stepped aside to let her in and in no way changed the look on his face, or answered. ‘Not the most cheerful old chap’, she thought as she stepped in and he closed the door behind her.

‘Please come this way, Miss.”

Following him into a big hall with lots of doors, stairs, chandeliers, (good) art on the walls and other displays of wealth, he led her to a side door, which he held open for her.

‘You can undress and leave your clothes on the chair here.” He said, and went out a door in the side of the room.

He left the door open.

She folded her blouse and skirt on the chair, put the handbag on top, the shoes underneath and sat down on the chair next to it.

He came back, but did not give her naked look a second glance.

He was dangling a set of keys in one hand and had a large white towel draped over his other arm. He was wearing surgical gloves….

‘Please stand up, Miss. Spread your legs.”

Used to being told, she did what he asked.

He carefully lifted the padlock between her legs, unlocked it, and placed it on the small table beside them.
Next he unlocked the front of the strap. Fumbling a little till he found the right key.

He went down on one knee, and very, very carefully and very, very slowly he pulled the strap down and out of the ring in her clit. He did not acknowledge the little gasp that escaped her as the soft leather slid along her clit.

With his thumb and forefinger he got hold of the end of the dildo, and extracted it, holding one of the white towels under, and using that to gently dup the area around her vagina.

He rose again: “Please turn and bend over, Miss.”

She complied, resting her hands on her knees, and spreading again – without extra orders to do so. After all this was routine for her – and probably also for him.

Fumbling with the keys again, the strap was eventually released. She sensed him again going down on one knee, using a thumb and forefinger to spread her buttocks, and holding the two straps with the other hand – ball-by-ball extracting the rod in her anus.

She gave a sight of relief when the last ball exited her behind – and again he dubbed her lightly with the towel.

As he dumped it on the table, he said: That’s quite a formidable instrument, young lady. I suppose you are glad to get rid of that?”
“Mmmmm. Yes….Quite..” She did not know what to say.

Having her upright again he unlocked the locks hanging from the back-straps of the corset, and removed that.

She gave a deep sigh of relief. ‘Thank you!”

In the mirror on the far wall, she could see the marks from the corset on her skin. Looked like she was wearing a skin-coloured corset. She massaged her body.

He looked down at her behind, and for a short second his hand rested on her right buttock – very lightly.

“Some marks you have there, Miss. Must be painful?”
“Ahem…they are healing..it’s not that bad…”

She almost embraced him being thankful to be freed of everything, but was still on red alert. It was not over yet.

“I’ve taken the liberty to prepare a bath for you. I thought you might want to freshen up before dinner – now that you are ‘liberated’. If I may say so!””

A bath! A real bath! Not a shower in the tiny space in her flat – and naked!

“Yes, please. I would like that very much!”

“Come this way then.” He swung an arm out, turned and walked slowly to yet another door in the room.
She followed right behind him.

The next room was a bathroom – but not just any old bathroom. It was more than spacious, and had a marble tub - lowered into a platform about a meter over the ground floor – and with a lot of foam in it.

He produced a stack of white towels and placed them on a stool by the tub.

“Take your time, Miss, but the kitchen will love you if you are ready about six!”
That was 70-80 minutes from now according to the clock on the wall.
“Yes. Yes. Of course!”

He supported her right hand as she stepped up on the platform.

“Would you require a drink while you’re refreshing yourself, Miss?

She almost said yes, but not knowing if after six o’clock would be a gang rape, a torture session or something equally nasty – she thanked him no. She did ask him for directions for the toilet, which was behind yet another door.

When she had relieved herself and came back out, he had disappeared.
--
She slowly descended into the warm, oiled and scented water.

It was a lovely feeling to lower her naked body into the bath! She relaxed.

These two rooms were the size of her whole apartment!

‘This could not be right’. She had actually been asked, what she wanted – several times!
An absolute first in all the time, she had been with ‘The Society’!

With 15 minutes to six, she reluctantly extracted herself from the water, dried herself with the provided soft towels, grabbed her handbag, and sat before the 3-winged mirror.

Carefully she repaired her makeup, did the rouge again, checked her nail-polish, fixed the mascara, and stuck a fresh set of eyelashes on, brushed her hair and applied perfume on all vital parts.

Going back to the first room and picking up her blouse and skirt, she noticed they were slightly warm by the touch.

Putting them on, she realized they had been ironed.
In the corner stood an ironing board, with an iron upright in one end.
The little red lamp on the iron was still lit.

She smiled. This was certainly ‘Class A’ treatment, but where was the catch?
It could not be like this…or could it?

She rose, turned back and forth in front of the mirror – and smiled.

‘Perfect. She was going to show them! Give them a good run for their money! She was ready come hell or high water – and she definitely did not want another punishment, or (gasp!) end up in the cellar.

Shortly after, Jones reappeared. He bowed lightly: “I see that you are ready, Miss. Excellent. Please come this way.”

She followed him out, and on a long walk through halls and staircases until he opened a set of double doors and stood aside.

She took a deep breath and stepped into another spacious, high-ceilinged room, with more tasteful, conservative furnishings and landscape paintings on the walls.

There was only one person in the room: An elderly gentleman in a perfect taylor-made charcoal-grey suit and tie.
He turned and walked to her: “Hello, Hello, Miss Catherine. I’m, so happy finally to meet you!”
He grabbed her hand and kissed it.

‘Real old fashioned, and not really the way to greet one’s slave tool.’ She thought.

He continued before she could say anything: “Would you like a drink before dinner?”

There was an awkward silence, as he looked her in the eyes – inquisitive.

He broke the silence with a small chuckle: “You don’t normally let the cat get your tongue, I am told, but I have a very nice Champagne here. Have a glass.”

He poured into two wide and flat glasses from a bottle, which – before it disappeared back in the cooler - she registered was not the kind she could get at her local wine shop down her street.

He handed her a glass. Clinked, and said: “Cheers. Here’s to us meeting at last!”
She managed an almost muffled “Cheers” and sipped a little.

“I’m Walther, by the way. I’m one of the founding members of ‘The Society’, but I am not very active anymore. I do like to follow the newbies, and sometimes meet them. I’ve heard you are quite extraordinaire, and I see now, that the rumours were right!” He gave her another big smile and lifted his glass.

It all made sense to her now. She smiled back – and could not avoid blushing slightly as she straightened her back.
He kept talking. In his sonorous, quiet voice. Probably to make her feel at ease: “I trust, Jones’s services have been to your satisfaction?”

“Yes, Thank you, Sir. It has been a most pleasant experience.” She decided to stay in the formal tone.
“Must be nice to get rid of those things?”

Apparently he knew – of course he knew, but choose not to get into details.

“Ahem…Yes, Sir. Very nice indeed.”
“Dinner will be served shortly – and please – do relax, my dear!”

He had noticed her alert stage, her slightly quick breathing and her eyes scanning the room constantly. Where were the restraints, whips, signs of submission? She found none.

“I’m sorry to hear of your experience yesterday, but I’m sure you realize the necessity?”

She bowed her head and answered into the floor: “Yes, Sir. I assume so.”

“…and don’t ‘Sir’ me after each sentence. I want you to relax and talk to me.”
“Yes, Si…Yes”
He chuckled again.

“As I said, I have been following your progress, and talked to some of the people around you. You are much praised, and have been very receptive to our ways, I hear?”
“I suppose so, Si…” She could not help smile as she almost ‘Sir’ed him again. The habit stuck, like with her conversation with Mistress K in the garden.

“Our ways are not for everyone, but you seem to fit in perfectly. I am so happy, you joined us!”

She did not answer but just looked down again. Fortunately she still had something in her glass, so she took yet one more sip.

Jones had slid in again – spooky the way he seemed to move around without a sound: “Dinner is ready whenever you are, Sir!”

Walther took her glass and put it on the table, bowed slightly and swung one arm out: “After you, my dear. I hope we will have a pleasant evening.”
“Me too.”

The dining room was like the rest: Elegant with a large oak-table in the middle and a setting for two opposite each other. He held the chair as she got down, and Jones did the same for him, poured wine into their glasses, then vanished out a side door.

“Now, Miss Catherine, tell me about you initial entry to ‘The Society’.

She did not know what he wanted to hear, so she told it as it was: That she had believed, she was going on an undercover job, had found herself in the awful cellar, had been used and misused, finally to get out and serve in the upper rooms.

She also told him about the corseting, the whipping and of course – the ringing.

He did not comment, but nodded and smiled from time to time, as she was giving him an almost full and detailed report of events leading up to their meeting.

She realized half way through that he probably knew all that, but nervousness made her talk and talk.

During this they were served several small, delicious dishes. To which Jones poured different wines in some of the many glasses in front of them

She found a way to end her story – not too abruptly, but before the punishment last night – and she tried very hard to avoid telling about her desire to get out, which she had given up on after that particular plight.

There was a short pause in the conversation.

Then he said: “How’s you relation with John now?”

“Not good. After all, he more or less tricked me into this. I don’t see how I can trust him again.”

“I thought so. Therefore I have taken steps to ensure, you will not see him again – or only very rarely. One cannot avoid someone in ‘The Society’ completely. I will have a new and hopefully acceptable Master appointed for you.

I will also give you my card at the end of this session. Should you have any questions or should the new Master not be to your satisfaction – you can always contact me. Then we will work out a solution. My interest is that the slaves are well-behaved, but also happy with their lives!”

She was amazed. She was granted some kind of free will. She could actually refuse a Master if he did not suit her! – and she had an emergency phone-line. Could this be for real, or was this just another way of tricking and subduing her?

“John will have new duties. As you probably have figured out, he is one of our ‘procurers’, or talent scouts. So I’ve sent him on his way.”

So that was it. John had been a ‘plant’ – and he did this for ‘The Society’ all the time: Picked up girls, tested them for their ability to submit to slavery, handed them over to ‘The Society’ and went on to the next victim.

She had not really loved him after all. He had been good company, and they had had good fucks, but she never saw them as an item. More like casual lovers while they waited for Mr or Miss ‘right’ to come by.

Walther changed the subject as yet another dish was put before her:

“I hear you are getting a new job?”
“Yes. I was lucky to get an offer that I could not refuse.”
Deliberately using the ‘Mafia term’ made them both chuckle.

“I have to confess, I had my fingers in that as well. The editor is an old friend of mine. Mind you, he was ecstatic to hear he might get you. He had been following you for a long time, and was waiting for the right moment, but he knows that George Smith clings to his employees with arms and legs – literally speaking.”

Ok. She would have been able to get the job on her own, but Walther had pushed a few buttons to make it happen here and now.

“I sense you are not particularly happy with George Smith – and I think I know why. He has been only a few inches from being expelled from ‘The Society’ because of his ways. One thing is dominance – and pain is ok, if it has a purpose, but George is something else. Trouble is he commands a magazine, so we have to keep him ‘on the inside’ so to speak. I hope you get my meaning?”

“Yes. I think so. I would not like to see him on a day-to-day basis, and it would be awkward to appear at work each day.”

“Of course he made noises – a lot of them. I think he was looking forward to having you under his nose every day, and be the one managing you. On the other hand, I don’t see you last very long with the treatments he exposes the slaves to!”

His face darkened, then lit up in another smile as he raised his glass: “…but here’s to a happy solution to all that – and let’s forget old, frustrated George for the night!”

He continued questioning about her education, job, ambitions and plans in general. All the information he did not already have, she thought to herself.

They had reached dessert – another artistic display on their plates – and a small glass of sweet wine to go with it.

“You are aware that I will require your services later tonight, Catherine?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m looking forward to that. I hope this pleasant evening will continue.”

She had already thought this would be an easy night, and hoped not to be too badly exposed to pain. He was a quite handsome man, and he seemed most gentle. She could handle that, she hoped.

On the other hand, Peter had been most friendly and polite – till she was under his control at ‘The Society’, so she was still very much on the alert….

“You know it will not always be as pleasant as tonight. You are here – in ‘The Society’ – to service our needs and follow our ways?’

“I know. This evening has surprised me and generally seemed to be a bit out of context.”

“I used to be an accomplished sadist, but now in my older days, I find it much more pleasing with light dominance. I am perfectly aware that you are here by order, and that you would not give me a second glance in the street. That excites me quite a lot. I am in complete control of you – without any restraints or force.”

She smiled and looked down at the table. She was going to show him a thing or two.

Looking up, she said: “I’m quite aware of that, but I don’t agree that I would not give you a second look. You are a very handsome man!”

“…and I do not fall victim to flattery.“ He said with a chuckle.
“No honestly. It makes me happy, to hear you say that, but the realities are that you are mine – body and all. And I intend to use that right later.”
“I’m at your command, Sir.” She said staying in the tone he had started.

It did not feel the bit least awkward to be sitting here at a splendid dinner, making polite conversation of her body being sexually used and dominated later that same evening.

“Good. Then that’s in place. Shall we proceed to the library for coffee?”

She waited for him to come round and lift the chair away and got up. Then they went next door, where coffee, cognac, small treats and chocolates were lined nicely up on the low table.

When he had poured coffee and cognac in their glasses, he sat down:

‘To continue on the note from earlier: You will be told to participate in other sessions – sessions as I explained before, that will not be as pleasant as this.
Sometimes it will be like at ‘The Society’ sometimes it will be private sessions – all in all everything you can imagine – and then a few more things.
You will also be required to attend ‘The Society’ and help introducing and training new members, but if you find your new Master agreeable, I’m sure he will help you with all that.
You don’t have to think about it, as long as you are obedient!”

“Its’ quite ok with me, Sir.” She had reverted to the ‘Sir’ing, and he ignored it – consciously or not.

“I have been getting regular reports from Yvonne and Jeanette. They too are full of praise. You must be doing something right!”

She smiled again: “ They were with me through most of my stay, so I suppose they would be able to do a reasonably good assessment. I grew very fond of them, as they helped me over most of the though spots, and took very good care of me – physically and mentally!”

“I’m sure you have not seen the last of them. Now that you are on the same level as they are, you will be performing some of the same duties, but you will be briefed in advance about that of course.”

They had some more coffee. She felt quite full after the dinner, so she abstained from the treats on the table.

He coughed quietly: “Ahem. Mistress K.”
“Yes?”
“She has been with us for a long, long time – almost as long as me.”
He smiled again.
“Even she has had nothing but praise for you, and she is – believe you me – a very critical and observant Mistress.”

“Ohhh. I adore Mistress K. She thought me a lot of things. She is a very, very good teacher – with lot’s of patience and insight. She is also very, very fair in her treatment of us. I have never been unduly punished – or punished beyond what was reasonable by her!”

“Well – You seem to have started a mutual ‘praise-club’ – I’m beginning to think it’s a conspiracy!”
They both laughed.

“Mistress K actually put a bet in to take you over, but I think you are better off with a male owner, than a female at this point. Don’t you agree?”

‘As if anybody cared or bothered to listen to her. It was all decided’, but she appreciated him telling her in this way. Mistress K might be ever so gentle and all the other things, she had said to him, but she would rather not be her property.

Although she did not really know why.

Jones seemed to have vanished, but she was certain that he could reappear in seconds – should he be needed.

“Now on a practical note: I’ll make sure you get some corsets, so you can keep in shape. They will be designed for you to put them on and take them off without assistance. I suggest you wear a corset as often as you can, to keep your present shape – if not in public, then in the privacy of your home. Nothing wrong with sleeping while wearing one – by the way. You’ve gone to all this trouble to look like this. Pity if you have to start more or less over!”
“Thank you for the advice. I’ll be sure to keep fit.”

“Another thing: The face piercings. I would suggest you find some ear-clips, you can wear! It is often used by the girls. The right clip, can cover the holes in your earlobes, and as far as I am informed, ordinary ear-pins can’t be found in the diameter required to replace the rings.
I’ll also see if I can help you out on that somehow.”
She thanked him again – even though she could not imagine what he would be able to do.

“I think I have something that will make it easier for you regarding your nose puncture – but otherwise you should wear the rings as often as possible. Such piercings tend to close if they are not in use, and – again – I am told it can be quite a mess to reopen them. As I said: I do have a few tricks up my sleeve regarding both types of piercings, but I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

“Thank you, Sir. I’m very thankful for the advice. I will be sure to follow it.” And this time, she meant it – and did not think differently in her head. She was adjusting to her situation – without considering any other option.

He got up and put his hand forward: “And now, my dear. I would like to see what all the fuzz about you is actually about! Please come with me!”

She smiled without replying, took his hand and together they walked out, upstairs and into his majestic bedroom.

He ushered her into the ‘master-toilet’ behind the only other door in the room.

“You may undress and prepare yourself here – be quick!”

She felt excitet by the way he gave her this simple and short direction. He enjoyed having full control in this way, and did not need restraints or whips to make her obey his smallest ‘request’.

Naked she inspected herself in the mirror, turned to each side, had a close look at her face and smiled.

‘I’m gonna give him the ride of his life’, she thought. ‘She was going to show him! HA! If they wanted a slave – they would get one’. She took a very deep breath. ‘Go get ‘em, girl!’

Then she returned to the bedroom.

He had already undressed and stood by the bed wearing a red, silk robe: “Come here!”

She approached, stood with spread legs, wrists crossed on her back, looking down at the floor in front of him.

His hands sought her breasts. A touch she almost did not feel at first. Caressing her orbs, and playing with the rings. She held her breath and tried to control herself. She was not going to make it easy for him at the beginning.

His hands went to her shoulders and he turned her around.

His fingers now followed her spine down to her waist. Took her wrists and put her arms down her side.

He laid his hands round her waist. His fingers almost touching on each side of her body. He pressed slightly. “Hmm. Very, very nice!”

He sat down on the bed, and started tracing the welts and stripes on her butts with his fingers.
“…quite nasty, but I am glad you seem to be healing fine!”
“Yes, Sir!” She did not feel obliged to comment further.

“Now turn again!”

Her stomach was close to his face. He slid a hand under her, cupping and lifting the rings in her outer lips. When he had played/inspected all three rings – and the landscape around them for a few minutes, she thought: ‘Now is the time.’

She bent down, took his head between her hands, used her lips to part his, and sought his tongue with hers.
She pressed him down on the bed.

For the next almost four hours she took him on a rollercoaster ride. Up and down at will. She came a few times herself, but had him floating in ecstasy constantly. She used all the skill, she could muster, and each time he thought he was going through the ceiling, she gently brought him down a few notches - only to have him again pant, scream, convulse and behave like a wild horse being ridden for the first time.

He had quickly stopped giving any kind of orders or commands, and she had taken total control.

Half way through he had asked her to stop, then begged and finally screamed that he could not take it anymore.

Now he lay on his back – panting. His chest gradually slowing down its up- and downgoing movements.

She lay pressed against his side, a leg over his, and playing with the grey hair on his chest and circling a nail round his nipple.

She smiled.

“Please. No more. Please!”

She smiled even more, gave him a small kiss on the cheek. ‘You think I’m going to let you off that easy? It’s not over yet!’ She thought.

She hoped he had a strong heart, got up and placed herself backwards on his chest, using her legs to hold his arms tight to his sides. Knowing he had a perfect, close view of her openings. She leaned forward and spread his legs with her hands.

“No. No. Please. Enough.”

She ignored him, knowing he had very little room to do anything, and as she moved her behind slightly up and down and from side to side, she knew he was looking at the rings, her openings and behind – without being able to touch or kiss them.

She leaned down and concentrated her fingers, nails and mouth on his relaxed member and slack balls.
It did not take long before she had him on cloud nine again!
--
She woke slowly. Felt the sun on her face. Stayed a minute with her eyes closed, and imagined she was actually purring like a cat.

She tried opening one eye, and found hat she was alone in the bed.

As if on cue, the door opened, and Jones came in with a trolley. Not a nasty one, but one with a complete breakfast – a large, red rose damp with small drops of water on its petals stood in a thin, glass vase on the side.
She could smell it from across the room.

“Good Morning, Miss Catherine. I trust you have been sleeping well?”
“Yes. Thank you very much, Jones. It has been a wonderful night!”

He still deadpanned her.

“I took the liberty to make some breakfast choices for you. I hope it is satisfactory. When you are ready, please pull the brass lever beside the bed!”

“Thank you again, Jones. You are most kind and considerate. I’m sure I’ll love the breakfast.”
But he had already turned and was on his way out.

Walther was not around. She looked for some kind of note. First on the breakfast trolley, then in the room in general – nothing.

Had she been too independent? Had it been too much? Had this been another test, where her folly had showed him, that she was by far the meek slave, he wanted? Would she be going back? She shivered and felt cold in spite of the sunny morning.

All through breakfast, when she showered in the enormous designer shower and when she got dressed, her heart was up in her throat. Fearing the worst and having all kinds of bad notions, she pulled the brass knob, which produced Jones after a few minutes.

“Are you ready, Miss?”
“Yes Jones. Thank you for a lovely breakfast!”
“Come this way, please.”

She trotted after him through the place and out the front door. At the bottom of the stairs, the driver stood at attention by the open rear door of the car.

They drove in silence. As they approached the city, she began calming herself. She knew ‘The Society’ was somewhere rural, and they were obviously heading downtown.

She did not breathe easily until she was standing at the nearest corner from her own apartment and saw the car disappear down the street.

Walking the short distance to the entrance, she gradually regained control of herself, and began smiling again.

He had liked it! She had done it! She was not going to be ‘re-educated’. She almost jumped in the air, and people turned to look at the girl with the light stride going down the street. A wide smile on her face!

She managed to slip past the antique dealer and the hairdressers unnoticed. They were both probably enjoying their lunch in the privacy of their back offices.
--
She was not surprised to see someone had been in her flat. The dining room table was full of stuff. She dropped her handbag, and went to the far end of the table.

Here she examined three corsets:
A large with supporting half-cups for the breasts and room for the hipbone at the bottom.
A medium model that would begin just under her breasts and end over her navel.
The last one was more like a wide belt with a solid buckle.
They were all in black leather with red edging, and the two ‘ordinary’ corsets laced in the back with black, string – she would be able to put them on and take them off easily by herself.
Beside them were matching ‘covers’ in lace and blondes – and in ‘skin-color’.

Next was a complete do-it-yourself enema kit, which she quickly put back on the table.

A box of the ‘G-string’ period bandages, each in a sterile, see through plastic package.

In the middle of the table was a rough, wooden box. The lettering on the side advertised that it contained 6 bottles of the champagne they had had before dinner last night. (She later found out that the box represented a value more than a month’s wages for her!)

At the front of the table were three gift-wrapped parcels in different sizes, and an envelope in thick, handmade paper, and ‘Miss Catherine’ written in longhand on the front.

When she opened it, a small calling card fell to the table. She picked it up and it read: “Walther’ and then a mobile phone number. No last name or other means of identifying Walther. ‘Very clever’, she thought, but he had at east kept his promise to give her a contact number – nice!

She knew she was a trusted slave now. She knew where Walther lived and could easily find out who he was - but it did not cross her mind to do so. The idea of a magazine story were lost in the back of her head a while a go. She had almost completely resigned to her new life.

The note inside – also in paper that looked handmade - read – again in elegant longhand:


Dearest Miss Catherine!
Thank you for a wonderful evening and night. It was most pleasing, and more than I had ever anticipated.
Please accept the items on your table as practical gifts and as a token of my appreciation of you.
I would suggest you wear the corsets as often as you can to keep in shape as we talked about. If not anywhere else then in the privacy of your home – and at night maybe - if you sleep alone.
I am sorry I had to leave on urgent business this morning, but I trust - as you are reading this note – that everything has been to your satisfaction?
As we agreed, I have enclosed a card with a phone number. You are always welcome to contact me, should you have the need to do so.
I wish you all the best in your new life, and I will try and follow your progress and merits as best I can.
I hope sometime in the future, we will have an opportunity to meet again – and that it will be just as pleasant as last night!
Yours truly
Walther


‘Very apt’, she thought. ‘Not too personal. Short and to the point.’ She was disappointed that it did not have a more ‘personal’ tone, but after all, he was an elderly, correct gentleman, so that was ok.

She opened the largest of the gift-parcels. It contained a leather, jewellery case with a set of ear-hoops inside.

They were thin – not like her steel rings. The material was several threads wound together. To attach them they had a ‘clam-look-a-like’ clip. Big enough to hide the holes in her earlobes, and with a small, special feature on the inside: Between the two clamshells were a pin, and as she tried them on immediately, the pin fitted perfectly in her piercings.

She shook her head and felt the light rings dangle against her skin – went and had a look in the mirror – very nice. Everybody would think, she was just wearing clips, but actually it would keep her piercings open. Good.

She looked in the box and noticed it was made by one of the more expensive designer goldsmiths in town. Another note was in the bottom of the box:


Dear Catherine,
I hope you appreciate the earrings? I have enclosed a gift card so you will be able to go to (the name and address of the shop) and pick a few more – maybe some that is more to you liking. If I may suggest so, bring this set to the shop, so they know you need models with pins, and the dimension of these pins.
Kindest
Walther


The gift card under the note had no amount on it, but simply stated her full name and address, and was valid for 4 more earring sets.

The next parcel was small and contained a plastic pin – in skin colour – with a flat plate on each end. One of the plates in the end could be detached. Inside was a more impersonal note from the producer giving instructions as how to place it in her nose piercing. She tried it on immediately – and inspected herself. It was almost invisible when she looked up her nose in the mirror. Clever.

The last parcel was yet another jewellery box. In held a very elegant fingering. In gold, silver and titanium, had a ring of small rubies or diamonds round a centre, where an engraving of two oblong rings interlocked in each other was the only decoration.

The accompanying note was again from Walther:


Miss Cathrine.
Here’s your ‘Society ring, which I will ask you to wear as much as possible – and especially in public. It is a discrete way to be recognized by other members of ‘The Society’, and thus be able to interact with them. Kindest.
Walther.


‘Oh. So the actual idea with this beautiful piece of jewellery was to discretely advertise her status to members of ‘The Society’ in order for them to take control of her’.

Goose pimples developed on her skin as she followed the thought of being picked up by total strangers, who would have full rights to her body. She would be at their mercy, with all that entailed. She would consider carefully how much she would wear the ring.

She put on the medium corset. It was quite easy, and it was a smaller and lighter model, than the ones she had been used to. She decided to give the laces an extra pull, making her waist even smaller.

Remembering Walther trying to make his fingertips meet around her waist, she thought she might work on that.

When she looked at herself in a mirror – naked, the slim waist in contrast to her wide hips and slightly heavy medium breasts – she thought it was a nice effect. As far as she could see looking over her shoulder, the statement, that her butt looked bigger, meatier and more appealing was also true. She would definitely work on it.

Chapter twentythree
Everyday life
The next week she did not heard nothing from ‘The Society’. Her butt healed well, She wore the medium corset as much as possible, and got to be rather fond of it, She also tried to wear the ring, thinking that the chances of meeting anybody from ‘The Society’ in the street was next to zero. After all this was the capital – with a lot of inhabitants.

Besides it made her skin feel ‘tinkling’ and her crotch in a constant stage of ‘alert’. Having only bottomless knickers, she had to change and wash her skirts very often, as she would lubricate directly on the inside of the material, when she sat down.

The only ‘incident’, she encountered was in the middle of the week. She was sitting with her usual afternoon coffee at ‘Café Europa’ and noticed a young, handsome couple a few tables away. They kept looking at her, and at one point they each lifted a hand – and showed her that hey both wore a ring similar to hers. She blushed and smiled at them.

Casting discrete looks in their direction, it did not take long to identify the woman’s attires. She was wearing a rather bulky, wool sweater – not unlike her own. When she moved on the chair, her slim waist and the way the corset limited her movements was easy to detect. She also had earrings like her own, hiding the piercings and pretending to be just clips.

Cat was wearing no makeup, but recognized the other woman’s very red and shiny lipstick, the dark shadow round her eyes, and the very red nails.

Fortunately the couple got up shortly after, nodded at her and walked slowly down the street.

She gave a sigh of relief.

She went to the Goldsmith and picked out the four sets of earrings. They were not from the display cases or the window, but from a set of trays, brought from the back room in the shop.

All the ones, she was shown had the hidden pin in the clip-system, and the woman helping her choose did a lot of winking and blinking, which she ignored. She picked different types, but all very elegant and all very expensive.

She was careful to select one pair that was just a small clip, nothing dangling, but a fine, real stone encased in an intricate holder.

She noticed that the prizes of the things in the shop were all far above her budget – and each item was unique and handmade. She later found out that the shop was one of the most elegant and most expensive jewellery shops in town….
--
She had her hair done. The small clips came in handy, and she refused to remove them – much to the hairdresser, Marc’s resentment. He made a lot of fuss since nothing had been done to her hair for over three months. She got the full treatment, as Marc entertained her about his love-life and recent partner.

Explaining her lack of hair care was no problem – he bought the story that she had been on an extended holiday, and had not had time or opportunity to have her hair fixed.

He did make remarks about her ‘having slimmed’ and asked if she had been on a diet.
She let him believe that, and he made noises that she was ‘definitely not to loose any more weight’ as she was perfect the way she was, and would begin to look sickly if she got any thinner.

The constant enemas, the meat-free diet, the amount of ‘exercise’ she had had, and of course her waist-training had made her look thin and fit, she thought. Not at all a bad thing. Before she had had a tendency to have a few kilos too much, but that certainly was not the problem anymore. She could clearly see her ribs in the mirror, but not in a bad way at all.

After having spent a tense two hours under Marc’s tender care, she gave a sigh of relief, when she was back in her own flat. Celebrating her new look, by putting on the medium corset and lacing it almost as tight as it would go.
Being summer, she walked around naked apart from the corset for the rest of the afternoon/evening.
--
She went to her old job to collect her things. She had phoned her best friend at the magazine, and asked her to put it all in a box for her – and she had made sure that George would not be in the office.

Never the less she was nervous all the time she was there. Her soon to be ex-colleges congratulated her on her new job, and she had trouble hiding that she was just interested in getting the hell out of there – before George might appear.

The next thing was an appointment at her new job – the next day. There were almost two weeks till she started there, and she was still getting paid from her old job, so she had money to pay the rent and other expenses.

Somebody – probably Walther - had arranged that she was under notice, but did not have to appear at her desk – fine with her. She had not even been made to sign a ‘Non-Disclosure’ agreement, something everybody else leaving her old company had to do. That left her totally free to start on the new job.

The new Editor was very friendly, and knew a lot about her work at George’s magazine.

She was shown the office that she was to occupy – her own office! – were introduced to everybody, and discussed different ‘Features’, that she might want to administer when she started. It was all very much okay and she was confident that it would be a major improvement in her job-situation.

This magazine was by far more international oriented – and by far more modern – in respect to the way it seemed to be run, the contents of the magazine itself – and definitely the office space.

She also went for a last hair-removal-job. One morning an appointment occurred in her calendar, when she opened her laptop. It was the same Beauty Parlour, and the same people as the first time. She decided it would not be to her advantage to mention the fuzz she had made there, and kept silent. The back room had the white table instead of the brown massage bench – and the mirror in the ceiling...

She had gotten quite used to being hairless, and liked the tickling sensation of a man’s pubes hair against her naked pussy when he was all the way inside her. However here and there stubborn single hair had grown out. Probably overlooked at the first treatments or whatever.

She now knew that the Beauty Parlour was a more or less integrated part of ‘The Society’.

It was the longest session she had had there. They meticulously went over her body with their strange enlarging glasses and laser apparatus’s. Afterwards she was sure that the hair she had left – primarily on her head, was the only hair she would ever have growing on her body again.

She was quite happy about it, as she had been plucking a few of the unwanted single hair from time to time – that would not be necessary now.
--
A few days later another appointment appeared in her calendar. This time it was for a private clinic in the posh north end of the town.

She went for a full physical check-up: X-rays, Blood samples, cardiogram and a physical inspection. She was not shy about it, but jumped on the anatomical seat and swung her legs up in the holders. The doctor was an elderly, very friendly man, seemingly unaffected by her metal adornments.

About a week later, she received an extensive report by mail. She was perfectly fit, and had gotten her prescription for The Pill. So all was well. She did not like that each page had ‘The Woman’s Copy’ printed in the top right hand corner. That meant that there had to be a ‘Man’s copy’ or something like it. And who got that?

Friday Gabriel phoned.

Chapter twentyfour
New management
She saw an unknown number on her phone display, but answered anyway: “Hello, Catherine here!”
“Hello. I’m Gabriel. I’ve been assigned your new Master. We had better meet!”
“…ahem….yes…I..suppose…so!”

His voice sounded friendly enough. Dark, but young.

He proceeded to ‘invite’ her to dinner in two hours at one of the better restaurants.
“Quite informally”, as he said.

This was the first time she had been invited to a ‘blind date’ – and a rather perverted one as such. She decided, she had better make the effort, and two hours later, she entered the restaurant. White blouse with velcro-lock in front, half-length black dress, make-up and of course the ring on her finger.

She stated her name to the waiter at the door, and was immediately ushered to one of the discrete places at the back. It had separation walls to the tables next to it, and was just a place for two.

Gabriel turned out to be quite handsome. He got up and held her chair, as she sat down.

He was tall, lean, and had jet-black hair and dark eyes. He seemed very friendly.

During a fine 5-course dinner, he told her that he was a lawyer just made partner, and did Corporate Law mostly.

He did not disclose much else about himself, but inquired about her job, flat, interests and all sorts of other everyday things.

She was quite aware, that he had probably studied her ‘Journal’, and probably also been thoroughly briefed by people that had had been in close contact with her.

She felt quite at ease with him, and began to think it might work out fine. So far it looked like Walther had chosen a good Master for her - she thought. She knew that the final test would come later.

After dinner he took her to a modern penthouse in the centre of the city. Not far from her own apartment.
Sparsely but elegantly furnished.

He did not go for pain a lot, but was a ‘rope’ enthusiast. During the evening and night he made her into one beautiful ‘rope-sculpture’ after the other. He also showed her some of the many books he had on ‘rope-art’ – mainly Japanese.

Several times during the night, he used vibrators on her sensitive spots – while she was tied up ‘sculpturally’. He enjoyed making her come as he tied and vibrated her. She was not at all displeased with that.

Late in the night having roped her a number of times, he finally got down to business, and fucked her brains out, while she was encased in a rope harness.

They played around till the sun came up, had breakfast in his small but adequate kitchen, and he sent her home again.

Waking along the streets of the old city back to her own apartment, she evaluated the night, and found it quite satisfactory. He apparently adored her body- did not mind giving her ‘a ride’ with his hands, mouth and sometimes a vibrator – he liked her ‘letting go’ in her orgasms – and had often continued far beyond the first orgasm sending her into one more – and one more.

She knew she was sharing him with other slaves, but she was his primary slave – and he was her Master.
--
They met a few times over the next weeks. She started on her new job, and he was busy with his, so they were usually together during the weekends. He had an old but very well restored British sports car that he sometimes drove her up the coast in.

It was almost as if they were ordinary lovers.

Not quite though. One evening he had asked her to come to his flat, where he strapped a battery box round her corseted waist. Invisible as there was plenty of ‘air’ around her middle. He also mounted a rod in her front and back opening – locking them with small, but strong chains to the bottom of her corset.

Then he ‘wired’ her. With clamps to the rings in her body – and of course to the rods. He told her to get dressed again and took her to dinner, where he enjoyed himself seeing her agony as he pressed the different buttons on the remote in his hand. It was only a light jolt, but enough to make her jump in the seat, and shiver from time to time.

He especially enjoyed jolting her, when she was addressed by the waiter and had to answer. The ‘vibrato’ in her voice made the waiter raise an eyebrow more than once.

She found out that the remote worked for quite a distance – even on the toilet. At one point he apparently thought she had spent enough time there, so he began playing with the buttons. The two other women in the toilet – also using the mirrors to fix their makeup, sent her strange glances…

When they finally got home, she was ready to climb the walls, which he certainly enjoyed after having taken all the wiring and the rods out.

She had mixed feelings about the electricity, but had to admit to herself it was a very efficient way of having ‘foreplay’.

One Friday, he had summoned her as usual, but he was not alone. In the ‘Chamber Separee’ he had booked in the restaurant, there were another woman – obviously also a submissive belonging to ‘The Society’ herself, and two other men.

She was introduced to the two men and the woman by Gabriel: “Now, Cat. This is Richard and Peter. They are contemplating joining our little club – and on the side we have Liza. Meet Cat. My personal slave!”

Both men took her hand in turns and smiled at her.

The conversation was not memorably. She kept quiet for most of the time – as did Liza.

Between last course and dessert, Gabriel suddenly said: “Get up Cat. Lift your dress!”
She was sitting at the end of the table, with the two new men at each side. She pushed the chair back, stood up, and lifted her dress, blushing slightly.

The men took their time in examining and fondling her crotch. Having a detailed look at her rings, pulling and twisting making her gasp a few times.

When Gabriel thought they had had their fill, he told her to turn, lift the skirt again and bend over.

As she did so, the waiter came with the desserts. She was happy she did not see his face, but heard him rummaging about the table.

Holding her hands on her knees and with spread legs, she submitted herself to the same examination as before – this time from the behind.

“What’s that?” One of the new men asked.
“Oh. She has been disobedient, so she had to be punished, you see.”

They were referring to the 6 stripes on the back of her upper legs. Stripes, Gabriel had created with a long, flexible cane the night before, as she had been late in coming to his apartment. He did not punish her often or hard, but sometimes saw it necessary to remind her of her status and keep her in line. She had been half an hour late.

She was told to sit down, and open her blouse. Again the rings – and her breasts were exposed to close examination.

“Are they all like this?”
“Almost. Cat is a very well trained one.”
“And she belongs to you?”
“Yes, but she also belongs to ‘The Society’ meaning she is available to all the Masters at will.”
“Will she do anything?”
“Anything you desire – and with skill, energy and feeling. I can assure you, she will not disappoint. Her incentive being the punishment she will receive if she does not perform satisfactory or get out of line.”
“Like the marks on her legs?” One of them asked.
“Quite. But she also has to feel the whip once in a while, just to remind her of her status and keep her in check.”

She was told to button up, and the other woman was examined. She was not ringed, but corseted tight.

More questions and more answers.

The dinner wound down, and they all took a minibus-cab to a house on the outskirts of town.

Gabriel had keys and though the lights were on, nobody was about.

They went straight down to the cellar, where a soundproofed room not unlike the dreaded cellar made her skin creep.

Under Gabriel’s supervision, the two new men ‘played’ with them for most of the night.

She was glad he was there to keep the two men under control. They quite clearly had no experience in this. Gabriel kept a sharp eye on them in order for them not to pull her steel to hard, not to use too much force with the whip and cane, but do a controlled whipping or caning. They did tend to get overly excited, and loose control – hitting too hard according to Gabriel – and according to her, but as usual she was unable to utter her disagreement – she was gagged most of the time.

When she was finally sent home in a taxi, she had plenty of fresh whip marks on her body, the taste of semen in her mouth, and was sore inside and out.

The next day Gabriel called her, and told her that she had been a success. The two new men had decided that they wanted to join and was now passed on to others to get an in depth introduction and be prepared for a trip to ‘The Society’ itself.

She was certain that their preparation and introduction would be much different from the one she had received.

She felt sorry for the girls that would be used as ‘training objects’ for these new members. They had not been very skilled with the whips and canes, so she were in much pain from the spots where they had missed their intended target, and hit somewhere else on her body.

The top of her back – the part that between the top of the corset and her collar was also very, very sore.
Contrary to general beliefs this part of the body is not very meaty, and therefore should be whipped with great care not to break the skin and/or make permanent marks. The legs, buttocks, stomach and several other places on a body have either muscles or body fat that can take a considerable punishment. It might be painful – very painful, but it is like hitting a cushion. The back has almost no skin, muscles or fat between the outer skin and the ribcage/shoulder blades.

She also had a very nasty bluish, thin stripe on the back of her neck. One of them had managed to miss his mark, and hit her just under the collar. She wore a turtleneck sweater for the next week.

Chapter twentyfive
Testing with friends
A very different kind of test came a few days later. Catherine had 3 friends from way back at The Journalist College. They usually met a couple of times a year.

She used to see her closest friend: Emma more often, but as she had been ‘unavailable’ for a considerable length of time, this was the first encounter they all had in almost half a year.

Emma and her had been ‘leading the pack’ at the College. They were often referred to as ‘The Kamikaze Twins’ – and that probably said it all.

They were both petite, but Emma did not have a lot of ‘shape’ – someone had called her: “A pair of lozenges on an ironing board!” which was not much off the mark. Emma was blonde, thin on the verge of skinny and hardly had any hips – and her breasts were small and pointed.

Charlott and Maya were ‘plain’ in the most positive meaning of the word. They would probably not turn many heads walking down the street, but had a silent charm, a god sense of humour, and winning personalities.

The traditional start of such an evening was to have burgers in one of the many trendy places in the small streets around town.

Cat had had serious problems deciding what to wear.

Eventually she decided on one of the pastel coloured Velcro-locked blouses with a high neck and showing very little cleavage. After all it was summer, so a bulgy, wool sweater would look too suspicious.

She picked one of the half-length black skirts. One with a wide, but low sitting waist – that would rest on her hips. It had a wide an amble pleating with enough material too give a fluffy appearance, and could swish in a nice curve when she turned quickly.

She had managed to find ‘self-sitting stockings’ that had a seam up the back and gave her legs a nice, dark look.

She did not wear a bra. All her bra’s would just lift and part her breasts making it more probable that the rings would show against the material of the blouse.

Her selection of knickers gave her not much other choice than to pick a pair that was the least open. The material joining down the middle of her stomach. She made the labia rings hang on the outside of the trousers. That also helped in keeping the slit closed. Of course the slightest spreading of her legs would make the knickers part to her open crotch – but it could not be helped.

She picked the Louboutin heels. Might as well go all the way,’ she thought.

She did not wear a corset – of course, and decided in the last moment not to wear any makeup. All the makeup she had was the kind used by ‘The Society’ and that would make her look cheap in the eyes of her friends – and give her an explanation problem.

She selected the big loopy, earrings and wore her finger ring. She was not unaware that she was going to show off a bit, and hoped not to encounter any Society members.

If she was recognized and did not wear the ring – she would be punished. Probably not there and then – but later, and if she wore the ring and was recognized she risked being ordered away with someone. She decided that she would be able to explain to her friends if she went off with a man, and that was better than having to wait for a suitable punishment.

When they met a lot of cheek-kissing and embracing took place. She was careful to avoid too close embraces, as it would reveal her waist.

She got some ‘flak’ as she did not order a burger like the rest, but went for the mixed salad. That resulted in a few remarks about her having lost weight and maybe dieting?

She managed to slide off on that.

Half way through the meal, Maya said: “ What wonderful earrings, you have. Are they xxx?”
“Yes, I think so. Someone gave them to me!”
“Ahhhh – they all said. “You have a new and rich lover!”
“…ahemmm..no..not really…”
“Secretive – are you not. Go on tell us, Tell us.”

She had to think of something: “Well…..I do have a new boyfriend, but I’m not sure how serious it is – yet”.
“Judging from the earrings – and the magnificent ring, you are wearing, I would say he is a keeper.”
“I don’t really know. Let’s see. It’s all very new.”

Charlott checked the earrings and knew that they were spun of gold, platimun, silver and steel thread. She proceeded to study the ring, and declared that the stones were real. When they asked Cat about the motive in the centre, she said, she did not know but had found it pretty.

Maya speculated that the two rings within each other was a kind of an engagement symbol. Cat found it actually very suitable. She was in a way engaged – but to a whole group…

They continued to talk about their jobs – and her new position.

After the meal, they went to a club for drinks.
--
It was crowded and noisy as always. They managed to secure a table so far away from the music that they could talk without shouting their heads off.

They took turns getting drinks.

At the bar, there was a big Stag-party going on. The poor guy that was going to get married had collapsed at their table in the other end of the place. He was easy to recognize by his ‘funny clothing’ and the cardboard sign round his neck saying. “Kiss me! I’m getting married!”

She inched her way in between two tall and not very sober guys at the bar, managed to shout her order to the girl behind the counter, and waited.

One of the drunken guys turned to her: “Ah. A beautiful woman! Just what I was wishing for. You look like you need a real man! Wanna see my manhood?”
She looked up and down at him: “If its size is comparable to your brain – don’t bother!”
All his companions laughed loudly and his facial colour turned into something between red and purple.

She got her drinks and returned to her friends.

A few times they were asked to dance, and did so. She refused all offers. Knowing that moving around on the dance floor would be far too exposing.

Late in the evening, she and Emma went once again to get fresh drinks. The party at the bar was even more drunk than before. She and Emma had a G & T in each hand, when somebody behind Emma got pushed or lost balance, tilting into Emma, so she spilled a lot of her drinks on Cat’s left shoulder.

The alarm went off inside her head.

As they got back to the table, she placed the drinks and hurried to the bathroom. Fortunately she was alone, but she was quite right: The liquid had made her blouse see through – or at least it showed the nips and the ring – to a degree that made sweat begin to form on her forehead and in her hands.

She got a handful of paper towels from the dispensary on the wall, and frantically dried the patch. She kept getting new towels and rubbing the patch. She did not notice Emma behind her until she spoke: “I’m so sorry. Can I help you!”

As she spoke, Cat looked in the mirror and saw the look of surprise in Emma’s eyes.

“No – it’s quite all right. Just join the others, I’ll be out in a minute.” She did her best to hide the wet spot with towels.

When she got back, Emma did not say anything, but gave her a strange look from time to time. She was happy when the evening wound down shortly after and they got out and made their goodbyes.

Chapter twentysix
Donna’s admission - one
One evening, Gabriel had summoned her as usual. After a wonderful meal at yet another fine restaurant, they ended up at his place.

As usual he had inquired into her life since last time, they had been together, and she had told him of the ‘friends night out’. When she gave him a short summary of the pickup situation in the bar – and the few other attempts that had been made to charm her during the evening, he laughed and declared that he was happy, she was his slave and that it probably was a formidable task to woe her into bed.

She smiled and agreed – wondering herself how different her ‘two lives’ were.

Up until now she had not considered herself going in and out of character, but now it made her think. She decided that she actually stayed in character most of the time, and was reserved for the members of ‘The Society’ – all others she could treat like she wanted to – and she had to defend herself against outside attempts on her body.
It belonged to ‘The Society’ – did she really think like that? She wondered.

She also told him of the incident with the drink and Emma, and he inquired in detail if Emma had noticed something and how her reaction had been.

He then made her kneel – naked on the soft carpet in front of him.

“I’ve got a job for you!”
“Yes?”
“You know, you have been told to assist in different functions in ‘The Society’?”
“Yes, Quite.”
“The thing is, we have a new woman coming in to be trained. She is an American with lots’ of heavy BDSM experience.”
“I see.”

“She has a Master, and as I said is experienced in BDSM – in her own opinion. Now her and her Master would like to take it to a new level. They have been members of ‘The Black Society’ – but you know – compared to us, it is a social club.”

“…and you think she will respond favourably to training and slavery, Sir!”
(She hardly ever ‘Sir’ed’ him except on formal occasions – or when he was ordering her around the flat.)

“Well – as usual we are not sure, she quite understands the full extent of being a slave to us, but on the other hand, I’m told you did not really know what this was all about before – and you’ve turned out well – and hopefully satisfied?”
“Yes – surprisingly enough.” She was honest. “After I took the final decision that this was my life, it has been a wonderful time!”

He smiled and caressed her cheek gently.

“Right. This is what is going to happen. Donna – that’s her name, or rather the name, she would like to be called – have been through the usual preparations: Hair, photos, measurements and so on – and she has of course signed all the necessary documents. She does not know what or when something will happen.

For two weeks, she and her present Master, has been invited to several social gatherings, where light BDSM sometimes have taken place. She has responded positively to serving (She knew this was an euphemism for having forced sex with different and unknown persons), Light punishment, light pain and so on.

On Friday she and her Master will be invited to yet another party. This time it will be a little different. She will be taken to ‘The Society’ for training at the end of the evening. Part of the fun - and a suitable way to start her training - is that it must come as a surprise to her – as you have figured out by now.

The initial shock will make her most susceptible at the start of the training. Her Master is of course informed, but told to keep quiet about it.”

‘No wonder’, she thought. Her present Master was probably one of ‘The Society’s’ ‘Talent Scouts’ like John had been.

“What’s expected by me, Sir?”

“You – and several other experienced slaves will be attending the party. At first as ‘ordinary’ guests. One might say you are there to fill out the chairs, make her feel comfortable till the fun starts. You will probably be serving later in the evening, but you are mainly there to give the whole thing a look of a cosy, informal dinner. Something that will remind her of ‘The Black Society’, and make her relax till the fun begins.

“Ok, Sounds interesting.”
“Should be so. I expect you to do your duty.”
“But of course, Master. As always.”
Then the ropes came out….

Chapter twentyseven
Emmas dilemma 1
A few days later, Emma phoned her. Nothing unusual in that as they were much closer friends than the two other girls. Now that Cat was back and available, Emma probably wanted to renew their confidential relationship.

They agreed to meet for lunch at Café Europa.

A small devil began moving about in the far corners of her brain. She went three shops down the street. To one of the city’s biggest antique- and second hand bookshops. Easily found what she was looking for and went back to her flat to make a few arrangements.

She knew that the incident at the nightclub would come up, so she had plenty of time to construct a probable story.
--
They met, had lunch, talked – mainly Smalltalk and of course evaluating their night on the town

After lunch she suggested that they took coffee at her flat, and so they did.

When they arrived, she made Emma go to the small table at the window and sit in one of the easy chairs.
Cat picked up the copy of ‘The Story of O’ that she had just bought from the second hand shop, and ‘accidentally’ left on the table – and made sure Emma saw it.

It had a picture of Corinne Clery – from the film on the front page. Leather collar and just showing her beautiful breast in the cups of the special dress.

She put the book in her bookshelf – at the furthest end – and made sure it stuck out about an inch, and went to the kitchen to make the coffee.

When she returned, Emma had – as Cat had expected – been to the shelf and was sitting with the book, reading the back notes, and the ‘flaps’.

“What is this?”
“Oh. It’s part of some research, I’m doing. About female sexuality. It’s quite good.”

“Looks like a weird story. Rather perverted, if you ask me.”
“Not really. The author wrote it as her lover was leaving her. It was an attempt to hold on to him. Don’t know if she succeeded.”

“Strange way to go about it. Don’t you think?”
“I’m not so sure about that. It’s rather exciting. For many years, the author hid behind the name, you see on the cover, and there was much speculation as to if it was a fantasy or a real account. Written by a man or a woman.

You want to borrow it? I have done the note-taking I need from it?”
“Suppose it could be an interesting read – so yes please!”

The book disappeared into Emma’s Handbag.

“Talking about perversions. What was it I just got a glimpse of in the toilet the other night?”
“Oh. That. It’s just an experiment. I’ll show you.”

She ripped open the Velcro at the top of her blouse, pushed it down under her breasts and arched her back: “See. Nice isn’t it?”
“Wauv…..mmmmm….Don’t know what to say. Are they heavy? Why have you had it done? Can you remove them? How does it feel?”
“Whoa! One question at a time. Yes. They are a little heavy but one gets used to it, besides it gives a thrilling feel. I had it done as an experiment. Wanted to see what it felt like – and yes, of course they can come out, stupid”. She lied!

Emma looked at them with a mix of surprise and fascination: “You have always been the experimenting type, so why not. Are you not afraid a lover will pull too hard on them?”

‘She should only know’, She thought, but said with a grin: “No of course not. If and when a lover should get his hands on them, I will have my hands very close to a very sensitive spot on him….”
They both laughed, and she closed the blouse again.

“Smart blouse, by the way!”
“Yes you know how I hate buttons, and this always works and never breaks – and I do not have to worry about loosing a button…”

She rose, opened a drawer in her cabinet took one of her earrings and the pliers out: “Look. I’ll show you how it works!”
She proceeded to open and close the ring with the pliers, hoping Emma would not insist in her repeating the manoeuvre on the ones in her nips…

Emma held the ring in her palm: “It’s much smaller than the ones in your tits – and…heavy.”
“yes – wanna try feeling the ones in my breasts?” She made movements as to open her blouse again.
“…ehh…no…thanks…I don’t think so. I’ll settle for this and take your word for the rest.”

Their conversation turned to everyday matters, and soon after Emma left.

She felt excited: ‘I sure live on the edge’, she thought. It had been fun provoking Emma, and seeing her reaction. She was sure it was to be their little secret, as she had made Emma promise, so the other two friends would not know about it.

Lying down on the couch, she looked at the ceiling and thought about where she had actually wanted to go by this – probably just to provoke Emma, and get a reaction. She would never tell her the full story, but would probably provoke her some more down the line.
--
In the meantime. At ‘The Society’ The webcam room, which lately had not had much attention directed to the cams in her flat – and where still unknown to her - where routinely checked.

When the operator saw Emma pick the book out of the bookshelf– and what book it was, he made a call on the intercom. Shortly after quite a number of eyes and ears were following what went on in Catherine’s apartment.

“Devious little thing. What’s she up to. I hope she does not spill the beans about us?”
“I don’t think she will. Probably just having some fun teasing her friend.”
“Hm. Maybe we can use this to our advantage. Zoom in on the other bitch. Let’s have a closer look.”
Emma was studied in detail, and they did not cut the camera until Cat was alone in her flat again.

Chapter twentyeight
The final mark(-ings)
Gabriel called late one afternoon: “Get ready. Have an enema, be naked. I’ll be round at about 6!”
The he hung up.

Being used to his short phone calls, she prepared herself, and sat naked in a chair till the doorbell rang.

She opened and smiled at him. He made her turn for a quick inspection, and was satisfied with what he saw: Made up, showered and perfumed after the enema.

Having opened the strongbox in her bedroom closet, he dumped into her best chair and ordered her to ‘get into gear’: Metal Collar, wrist cuffs, medium corset, with the attached leather straps for the black stockings with the seams down the back. She preferred ‘self-supporting stockings’, but had noticed he had a fondness of the type being held up by this perverted suspender belt.
On her feet the nice Louboutin shoes elevated her and defined her legs by tensioning her muscles.
--
Just as she thought they were to start playing, he grabbed her cotton coat from the rack by the door and held up in front of her: “Here. Put this on. We’re going out!”

She grew cold! Was he really going to parade her in public like this? Not seeing any other options, and being wise enough not to ask questions, she put the cotton coat over her naked body, and tied a small silk scarf, he produced from his pocket, round her neck to hide the collar.

It was late summer/Early autumn, so she would not be overdressed. She was glad it was after business hours, so she would have a chance to get out of the building unnoticed.

He held her upper arm, as he guided her down the street to the nearest corner, where his little English car was parked.

They drove off in silence and stopped in an industrial part of town. Down by the harbour. Not much street light and nobody else to be seen.

Again he had a firm grip on her upper arm, as he led her to a building that looked like a warehouse.

They went up to the only feature in the façade of the building: A massive door. He pressed a button on the side. A lamp lit up above them, a small window in the middle opened and a pair of eyes looked at them for a long minute. Then she heard the door unbolt, and blinked in the sudden light as she was ushered inside.

Two women, both wearing ¼-cup bra’s, and both wearing corsets, cuffs and collars received them. The man that had opened the door had disappeared though a side door.

They were both helped out of their cotton coats, which were hung on a rack on the wall – over a pile of other overcoats.

The girl behind her grabbed her wrists, and clicked them together. Then produced a short, red leather leash. It went in to the ring in her clit. She handed the end to Gabriel.

She uttered a small cry as he janked the leash, turned and started walking – after the girl. She naturally followed trying not to get the leash to tight.

She heard faint noises of pain, and when they came through the next door, a male slave was ‘X’ed up against a wall – naked. A girl in the same attire as the rest of the women she had seen was kneeling in front of him – and was sucking energetically on his erect hard tied penis and balls. A Mistress directed the whole thing with a long bullwhip – alternating her attention between the man and the girl.

Cat, Gabriel and their lead went through the room and out the other side.

In the next room, a totally naked woman was hanging upside down with her legs spread. A Master was rhythmically hitting her pussy with a small, black ‘cat-o-nine-tails’. The woman twisted and turned and made noises of pain under the leather gag in her mouth.

It was a dildo-type gag – and probably the anatomical piece in her mouth had a considerable size judging from how little sound escaped.

She began feeling a little worried. Apparently this was some kind of club or one of the places ‘The Society’ used for their ‘pleasures’.

In the next room, a woman was sitting facing her, but on top of a man. Cat could clearly se his stiff member move in and out of her anus as she bopped up and down. Beside her another man stood on a low stool and – having his hands deeply entwined in her hair – rammed his stiff rod in and out of her mouth in a slow rhythm. A third and fourth man were looking on.

‘Come here!” One of them said. Pointing at Cat.

Gabriel let go of the leash, and pushed her forward by her shoulder. She stepped up to the man: “On your knees!”

She sank down, and opened for his erect manhood. His hand quickly took a solid grip of her hair.

After a few minutes, when she had been almost gagging a few times as he really struck deep, a pair of hands lifted her hips, and someone entered her anus.

She was hammered in both ends.

As on a signal, the man behind her came with a loud cry. The one in her mouth pulled out and sprayed her face, and the girl in front of her lifted up, so the penis went out of her anus and started spraying her from the other side.

The girl finished Cat’s complete her degradation by urinating in a thin, short jet over the mess in her face.

She lay on her knees with her head on the carpet. Cum and urine dripping down her face, and from the edges of her mouth.

Her hips were grabbed once again, her leash undone and her vagina filled with another hammering rod that finished her ordeal by filling her with warm semen.

Gabriel lifted her up by her shoulders. Got her to her feet. Supported her as she was unstable and dizzy and staggering on the high heels.

Giving her a few moments to compose herself, he clicked the leash from her clit to her collar and dragged her along through few more rooms. These were all empty.

They ended up in a room with a workbench along one wall and in the middle of the room: a chair-model she had not seen since the cellar: It was low, had almost not seat, and a reclining back. On each side was a ‘U’-Shaped holder. She shivered. It brought memories of a lot of things – all of them rather unpleasant.

Gabriel manoeuvred her down on the chair. The woman, who was still accompanying them, released her wrists, took her arms over the top edge of the chair pulled them down on the back, and made them hurt as they were stretched down, so that she almost hung on the top edge of the chair by her armpits.

Her legs went into the holders and straps held her ankles to the posts under the ‘U’-shapes.

Gabriel adjusted the U’s – that is he loosened them and pushed them even further apart, till she was wide open – then locked them.

A masked man came in. He had a hairy, chest and a round potbelly. His penis and balls hung out through a hole in his tight-sitting black trousers. His booths made quite a sound on the floor as he walked over to them.

“So this is the bitch?”
“Yes. Gabriel’, answered.
“Is she ready?”
“Quite ready.”

She looked from one to he other as small drops of semen seeped out of her vagina, tickled down her skin and dripped to the floor. The semen in her face was drying fast.

The ‘potbelly’ went to the workbench, put on surgical gloves and came back with……a tattooing machine.

She wanted to protest and gave Gabriel her most begging look – but knew that it would be in vain – of course. The decision had been made and she was going to get tattooed.

Potbelly knelt down, placed a finger on her clit and began tattooing just above her opening.

She closed her eyes. It felt like something between a tickle and a slight pain as the needled danced over her skin with a buzzing, mechanical sound.

Closing her eyes and pretending to be somewhere else was not an option. Gabriel, who stood beside her, grabbed her head by the hair, and let his half erect penis slide up and down over her face.

She opened and let him inside.

By the time the Potbelly had finished, Gabriel emptied in her mouth, and let her swallow it all.

When he let go, she looked down, and before potbelly taped a piece of clingfilm over it, she saw the line drawing on her skin: two circles within one another and in the centre the well-know two interlocking rings.

“Right. Let’s do the other one!”

There were rings in the floor for her spread legs – of course there were rings in the floor.

- and a solid rope from the ceiling to heave her arms backwards up into vertical position making her feet almost lift off the ground.

The needle began dancing just above the crack between her buttocks, and she knew the same figure was now being etched permanently into this spot.

When potbelly had finished, he used her in her rear opening. He stood on a small stool that he pushed over and almost under her, stepped up on it so he was at the right height, grabbed her hips and trust into her.

The movements made her swing back and forth and making her shoulders hurt badly from the strain. Gabriel stood in front of her and caressed her sperm-soiled cheeks while potbelly used her rear end.

In a daze she was let down, taken to the front door, released, given her cotton coat and helped out into Gabriel’s car. First then she began to regain her senses.

She sat quietly on the trip home, her face still feeling the dried up semen, and drips coming from both of her openings. Her mouth having the salty taste of several ejaculations.

When he set her off on the usual corner, he said: “Now you are really a slave belonging to us. Should you ever try to have sex with someone outside ‘The Society’, the owner marks now on your body will clearly show him, who and what you are – and to whom you belong. Good night, Catherine!”

She followed the car with her eyes till it turned the next corner with small tear running down each of her cheeks.

He was right, of course. She would never be able to have sex without her lover seeing the marks and her having to explain. Before, she would have had enough trouble with the rings in her front, but maybe she could have indulged in very discrete anal- or oralsex. Now even that was impossible. Her body belonged to them.

She turned and locked herself in her building.

Chapter twentynine
Emmas dilemma 2
‘The Society’ left her alone for the time it took for the tattoo’s to heal up.

She took care of her job, which was pretty much routine by now. She learned to sit on her chair, not resting her back and thus not feeling the soreness of the healing tattoo there.

It healed up nicely on both sides of her, and she convinced herself it was not that bad. It was – after all – just a small line drawing, even though the message was quite clear.
--
She learned other ‘tricks’. Got a knitted, long scarf, that she wound around her middle. It made her waist look ‘normal’ and she did not have to think about revealing herself. It was hot to wear, but gave her a better sense of ‘freedom’.

She also adapted the trick with the gaffer tape over the rings in her nipples. It looked more ‘natural’ with a smooth orb showing through her blouses and sweaters, than the risk of the contours of the rings being visible.

The slight pain of pulling the tape off again was nothing compared to the freedom it gave her.

Between her legs she could not do much about the labia rings, but the clit one, which was annoying her every time she sat down, she turned upwards and fastened with a small piece of gaffer tape to the bottom of her stomach.

She thought of getting ‘normal’ underwear but rejected the thought, as she never knew if Gabriel would dump in on a sudden and unannounced visit. She was also afraid to meet anyone from ‘The Society’ when she was outside her home.

She wore the ring on her finger almost all the time, as she was afraid of an encounter in public without it.

She saw Emma a number of times. Their usual café meet and chat, and most times they ended up in Cat’s flat.

Emma had read the book – and even gotten a DVD of the film with Corinne Clery. They discussed it for quite a while. Emma seemed fascinated. The thing she liked the least was the scenes where ‘O’ in both the book and film is put in the cellar.

Cat understood this better than Emma could imagine, and tried to explain to her that it was part of the mental breakdown, necessary for the later build up as a slave.

Emma said she also figured out where Cat had gotten the idea of the rings, but did not understand that ‘O’ had had one ring in her outer labia where Cat apparently had two in her tits. Cat let her stay in the belief that she only had the ones in her tits.

She told Emma of ‘The Black Society’ and other ‘playgroups’, she had encountered during her ‘research’. Emma was fascinated.

Cat had also gotten a copy of the comic by Crepax giving the full ‘Story of O’ in graphic detail. Emma borrowed it, and Cat said it might help her imagination even more.

At last they got to the point, where Emma asked if she had ever met any of these people during he research. She answered as loose and imprecise as she could. Now feeling that her little game with Emma was getting too far – and actually regretting she had lent her the Crepax-comic.

The persons at the other end of the webcams on the contrary were very pleased.

“We ought to get Cat to be a permanent procurer. She’s really good at this!”
“Yes – and I think Emma will be a perfect candidate for further treatment.”

They all agreed, and laid plans for the next step.

Chapter thirty
Donna’s admission - two
The time came for Donna to be introduced. Cat was summoned to yet another large mansion north of town – for dinner.

She had been thoroughly briefed by Gabriel in advance, so she wore no visible signs of her status – except perhaps the makeup.

She was told to bring her Cuffs and collar, as they would be needed at some point during the evening.

(The strongbox in her closet was now seldom locked, and she left it alone. She had no desire to look closer at the tools of her slavery, and had sufficient and regular contact with the contents for her to have any desire for more. It was also practical as Gabriel did not have to be present when she got into gear, but could just giver her directions by phone.)

She arrived at the designated time, and to her surprise, it was Lonnie, who opened the door.

“Hello, Catherine. Do come in. Nice to see you again!”
Her face broke into a wide smile: “And you too.” – then in a whisper: “What are you doing here?”

He grabbed her, pulled her inside and to the side of the hall. To a corner were they were hidden between two marble statues. His mouth and tongue opened her mouth, and he kissed her for very long minute or two.
Whoa,” She said. “Easy now!”

He panted: “I’m assigned to help out tonight. I’m a trusted servant now, and they often use me for this kind of external gatherings.”

She was too clever to ask what was going to happen, and he took her hand and led her along saying: “There’s someone else, I want you to meet!”
--
He took her to a small side room, where she met Jeanett and Yvonne. The reunion was a great one. She did not have to feel alone in her bondage. As sisters in slavery they embraced each other lovingly.

They quickly exchanged the most important news – and she showed them her tattoo’s and they showed her that they had also been ringed and tattoo’ed since they last saw each other.

She felt proud and a full member of this sisterhood.

They all wore similar clothing – almost as a uniform: White blouse, black skirt, stockings, and high heels. If one did not scrutinize their bodies one would not see that they all wore tight corsets under the blouse and skirt.

After a while another servant summoned them.

In a room with bookcases from floor to ceiling, they were introduced to the rest of the company: Donna and her Master, Gabriel, a third Master, she had not seen before, and WALTHER!

She almost gave him a hug, but controlled herself and formally shook hands with all.

Donna was beautiful. ‘Something you might even call ‘voluptuous’, Cat thought. She was medium height, clearly had streak of Italian or South European blood in some of her veins. She had curly, black hair, almost black (big) eyes and slightly high cheekbones. She was a few kilos on the heavy side, but that was probably the reason for her amble bosom. She was wearing a thin blouse open down to about half way between her breasts, informing everyone that she was not wearing any bra. A light, discreetly flowered skirt and no stockings.

Having passed the introductions, and after having had a small, refreshing, pearly drink, they all went into the large dining room next door.

Cat was a little disappointed that she was not seated next to Walter. He sat at the end of one side of the table, with Jeanette on his right, then Donna’s Master, a slave unknown to her, answering by the name Frida and in the end another unknown Master.

On her side of the table, Yvonne was sitting opposite to Walther, with Gabriel on her side, then Donna, The unknown Master and then her at the far end. She was stuck with two unknown Masters one on her right and one opposite.

It was not a bad match – both Masters turned out to be courteous, good looking, charming and easy to make conversation with.

Lonnie and 4 other servants were attending the table. They all wore white shirts and tight sitting trousers. She could sometimes get a glimpse of the triangular material over their genitals behind their white waiter-aprons.

It was – as usual – an opulent dinner – with lots of small servings and good wine to go with it.

Lonnie and the others moved almost silently behind them and cleared and served. Conversation was light and everyday. Once in a while Walther looked down at her end of the table, and winked with one eye as he smiled. It had a calming effect on her. She had been a bit nervous about what was going to happen, but gradually relaxed.

She noticed that the chairs were big and impressive. They all had heavy armrests, and at least hers had wheels underneath.

They were padded, and seemed a bit oversized for the rest of the interior. The backrest was even weirder. It went full size to the shoulders (though not hers as she was probably the smallest in the company), continued as a much smaller board with padding and a strange ornamental cut through several places on each side. It ended in a decorative woodcut crown.

The fun started between the last course and the dessert,

Lonnie and co. had discretely moved a trolley in position behind Donna. She was probably the only one that did not notice, as trolleys with food and dishes were constantly being moved around behind them. The only difference with this one was, that it had a cover concealing its contents.

While Gabriel on one side, and the unknown Master on her other did their best to keep Donna occupied, Cat noticed Lonnie and the other servants gathering behind her, silently putting their black gloves on.

They stood behind Donna, two on each side, and looked down at Walther. He nodded very slightly, which was the signal.

Donna was gripped by the wrists and held by two servants as the other two strapped them to the armrests with black leather bands.

They pulled her chair out from the table.

“What the,,,stop that..you brutes…mmmmmmpppphhh!” She was clearly taken by surprise.

And that was her last recognizable uttering.

As her wrists had been secured, the two servants had grabbed her head and turned it back so that her mouth opened. Placing a large, red ball-gag on her jaw they turned and pressed until it was firmly inside her.

When they let go, she shook her head as if she could push the thing out in that way. Cat had never yet seen a mouth big enough to be able to push these gags out without help. Never mind. It was soon strapped firmly behind her head.

The servants got busy. Donna was fighting in the chair, wringing and arching her body and trying to kick with her feet, although her ability to move quickly got restrained to almost nothing.

The posts for the armrest had ‘fallen down’ vertically, her legs had been parted, and then the posts had been pushed back up, and secured, now with her legs spread and the posts preventing her from putting them back together. Just like the ‘dentist chair’, Cat had been prepared in a long, long time ago.

A leather strap round her ankles and the front legs of the chair definitely stopped her kicking.

Just over her elbows, another strap was tied round the armrest.

A tight strap through holes in the backrest cut into her waist, narrowing it and firmly pressing it against the back.

Another strap went over her breast, one across her neck (and through some of the holes in the last, upright piece of the chair).

Finally a strap round her forehead rendered her almost totally immobile.

She was still making noises, and even more, when the four of them started cutting her clothes into pieces with scissors. Some of the material was stuck behind the straps or her body sat too close to the chair to be pulled out.

They did cut all ‘free’material, so her front was naked.

The chair held more secrets. With a metallic sound, they released and removed a whole middle section of the seat, and a similar piece from the backrest.

Lonnie oiled a very large, metal dildo on a steel rod. Donna watched the process with very wide eyes. He bent over between her legs, spread her labia with two fingers and pushed it up as far as it could go. He then attached it to a crossbar between the legs of the chair.

They wired her up: Clips in her tits, wire to the rod in her vagina, clips on her outer labia. All connected to a large battery box on the floor.

The adjusted the position of the chair, turned a spotlight on her and left her there. The gathered the scraps of her clothes from the floor and pushed the trolley away.

Gabriel rose, went to the battery box, and started it. It sent a random strength jolt to a random point on her body, and indicated the jolting by a little lamp on the battery box, which blinked when the electricity was activated.
Not that any signal from the box was necessary. She was twisting and making noises of pain at every jolt under her gag. Cat knew the terror in this refined form of torture only too well, and by Donna’s squirming knew that they had set it to use the higher end of the scale on the box.

It took all her willpower to look away from the chair, and continue the conversation with the Masters on each side of her.

Everybody ignored Donna (or tried to) during dessert, after which the servants put a tray with their personal cuffs in front of them.

As they all stood up, took their clothes off, folded them on the tray and locked the cuffs and collars on.
Donna’s eyes widened as she looked from one to the other between jolts. The servants had removed their aprons and the triangular piece of material, leaving their penises and balls hanging out in the air.

The trays were collected and coffee was served.

Cat was taken aside by Yvonne and Jeanette.

“You’ll be the ‘drinks girl’ tonight. Its an easy job.” Jeanette said, as she mounted a tray round her waist, and Yvonne secured her elbows and wrists on her back.

The tray hung down over her stomach, until two very thin chains in each outer corner lifted it up. The chains clipped on to the rings in her nipples, Jeanette adjusted the arrangement in order for the tray to sit horizontally.

Then gave her an encouraging pat on her bum as she said in a very low voice: “There you go girl! Now circulate between the bar at the wall, were the empties will be removed and fresh ones placed. Try to have four full glasses on the tray at all time, and circle slowly so they have time to grab a drink.”

She nodded and tripped immediately to the bar, where Lonnie with a smile placed 4 full glasses of champagne on the tray. It made a quite noticeable pull in her tits, but the supporting quarter cups on the corset supported them nicely. They were still more upward than downward.

Yvonne had put a short – very short chain between her ankles so she was literally tripping in her very high heels.
Seeing herself in one of the big mirrors on the walls, she thought it was quite sexy, with her tight legs in the high heels, and the horizontal tray sticking out from her slim waist – and supported by the shiny, thin chains in her nips.

That was her task for the next long period. Some just took a drink or placed an empty on her tray, some could not resist playing with the chains and tray, pressing and pulling a little and making her squirm.

One thought it a good idea to have his finger up her vagina, as he picked his drink. She managed all evening without spilling anything in spite of the teasing she was exposed to and the minuscule steps she had to take.

By now Donna had been in agony for almost an hour and she looked quite worn out. Between jolts her head just hung down, then bobbing up and down as her body tensed with a new jolt.

The servant rolled a low, square, slightly padded platform in. It had small wheels underneath, like the chairs.

Donna was flaccid when they took the wires off, the dildo out, and released her from the chair. The sorry remains of her dress and her shoes went off. Two held her by the arms, while two others fitted her with the familiar steel collar and cuffs. Her wrists were secured on her back.
It was more a question of supporting her than dragging her to the platform.

They got her down on her knees with her toes almost sticking out at the back edge of the platform. Spread her legs, and fastened her ankles to small rings embedded at the edge of the platform. They bend her forward, and connected a short chain from her collar to a ring in the middle of the platform.

She came to her senses for at short while and tried arching her back and pulling at the chain from her collar, but was locked in position. She did not show many signs of resistance apart from that. The electricity ‘game’ had taken its toll – she was exhausted.

The servants went out and came back with some very big metallic frames, that they fitted on all four sides of the platform. She was now in a cage.

They pulled a chain under her belly, and locked it to the end of the frame in each side. Making her bottom stationary.

One pressed her back down and another other pushed a padded steel rod in between her back and elbows. It was also locked to the frame on each side of her.

Her elbows rested on top of the padded crossbar and the wrist cuffs were pulled tight backwards and attached to the end of the cage with a short chain.

A small pillow was gaffer-taped on the frame in front of her head.

Then the top frame was put on – and also locked.

From her position Donna could not see or anticipate what was coming as the first dildo was oiled by a servant.
It was a cone-shaped, metal version – rather long and thick – and mounted on a metal rod with a long thread in the end.

She did react when she felt it getting contacting her vagina, and then pressed slowly inside.
The whole cage shook as she tried to move – and possibly avoid the fat rod entering her.
After the dildo was almost all the way inside her, the end was mounted on the back grid of the cage. A ‘handle’ was put in the end, and slowly the servant turned the rod as the thread made it go further and further in.

The next dildo was an exact copy of the first one – but slightly smaller. Again Donna reacted violently in the cage as her buttocks were spread and it was pressed inside her smallest opening.

Finally the servant gave each of the dildos a few extra turns – making them go even further in.

She was helpless and impaled – and ready for transport.

Everybody admired her as she was curled up immobile inside the cage. Hands went in under her breasts and fondled them, other hands turned the handles to the dildos, and again others kneeled, grabbed her hair and pulled her head slightly up and looked at her face.

Then she was rolled out of the room.

Her Master asked what was going to happen to her next, and was answered that she was being lifted on to a truck by a forklift in the garage, and driven to ‘The Society’ for further training. Cat knew Donna would find herself in the Cellar before the evening was over. Her skin crawled and she felt icy cold by the thought.

Everybody proceeded to play for a few hours more. She was released from her duty as ‘walking bar’ and had the opportunity to service Walther, but they did not speak.

They were dismissed just before midnight, and she fell into a deep sleep as soon as she got home.

Chapter thirtyone
Emmas dilemma 3
A few days later, she was sitting with Gabriel at their usual Café.

“I hear that you have been working on your friend, Emma?” He said casually.

This did not surprise her. Not only had she been questioned and given him a full account of her meetings with Emma but they seemed – as usual - to know everything – all the time.

It was almost like an interrogation. He wanted to know every detail, and asked a lot of questions along the way.
She answered as truthfully as she could.

He was particularly interested in the details of their conversation about Emma wanting to meet someone connected to ‘The Society’.

Before they parted, he had instructed her to invite Emma to a specific Café at a specific time, where he – or someone else would meet them ‘by chance’.

When they parted – and she was back in her apartment, she walked the floor and felt very uneasy. What had she done? How did it come to this? Emma was her best friend, and now she had gotten her into serious trouble.
Did she really want this? Was there a way to avoid it now? – Not really. She had to comply with her orders.
--
In doing so, she was amazed that it was Lonnie, who appeared as the ‘casual acquaintance’. When Lonnie dropped by the Café and pretended to recognize her across the room, they acted as if they knew each other only superficially and she invited him to join them.

When he later excused himself to go to the toilet, she quickly told Emma, that Lonnie was one of the persons, she had made contact with in connection with her research for the article about female sexuality, and that she believed he had ‘connections’ to this ‘Society’, she was investigating – and an inclination towards BDSM sex.

This turned Emma even more on, and she flirted openly with Lonnie before they all left the Café.
--
Two days later, Emma called and said, that she had become ‘more than an ‘acquaintance’ with Lonnie.

Cat feigned surprise, and asked where Emma wanted to go with such a relation. Emma answered a little avoiding, but finally admitted, that she would like to try some light BDSM sex, and that he would probably be the right candidate. Emma inquired as to how much Cat new about him – which she kept to a minimum.

When they rang off, she did not know if she was happy or sad – but she did have quite a guilty conscience from luring Emma into this situation.

On the other hand, Emma was a grown girl that could make her own decisions, just as she herself was.
She used that as an excuse to herself.

Time went by, and she heard and met Emma once in a while as usual, but did not get much information out of her; She did get ‘reports’ from Gabriel as to the progress between her and Lonnie.

On a ‘café-session’ with Emma after about two months, Emma told her about the ‘amusing’ contracts’, Lonnie had downloaded from the net, and that they had ‘played’ around with them.

She confessed that it had excited her to do so, and Cat thought that the excitement would be on a far higher level, when she realized they were for real.

She also said, that Lonnie had shaved her, and that it had been a yet another new and wonderful experience. Being questioned by Cat, she admitted that Lonnie had talked her into having her hair removed professionally – just for a short period, so she was going to this Beauty Parlour and have treatments with laser.

Cat pretended to look shocked, but Emma was most convincing in telling her that the laser would create a hairless look – but the hair would grow back eventually.

Cat thought of her own crotch that was totally smooth and had been so for almost for a year.

All that is lacking now - she thought - is the measuring and photos.

She dared to ask Gabriel about that, to which he replied that Lonnie had an ‘amateur photo friend’ – a woman, that was most interested in nudes, and – praising Emma’s body – had persuaded her go to have some ‘artistic’ photos taken.

As for the measurements, a small dose of sedative in her coffee had sent her out for as long as it took for Lonnie to let himself in her flat (with the keys he had copied one day, when she went for a brief visit to the toilet in a bar) together with a couple of experienced ‘measure takers’.

Gabriel also told her that Emma had been eager to join a club to try out some more advanced BDSM, and that Emma was very excited by the prospect. She was in fact pestering Lonnie about when she could go.

Gabriel assured her that everything was almost ready for Emma.

They just needed to decide time, place and method. Emma’s faith was sealed and she was ready to go.

One last thing – Emma was a journalist like herself, employed on a freelance contract by a magazine. It would therefore not be at all strange, if she stayed away from her job for a longer period, as she would be ‘working on a larger feature, and needed the time to do the research!’

Her workplace would receive a mail from her to that effect as soon as she was on her way. (Lonnie had installed a little piece of software on Emma’s laptop in an unnoticed moment, so they were able to see everything she did on the computer – including having the password to her mail.)
--
The next Cat heard was a phone call from Emma. During their conversation, Emma explained that she was having the best sex of her life.

Lonnie had held her down, ordered her around, watched as she masturbated on his orders, and been spanked lightly. Emma elaborated in detail on the ‘sex games’ they were playing.

Emma told her, she was now going to go one step further. She would let him tie her up, but she needed Cat to be there – as a security.

She reluctantly agreed, knowing that she would be betraying her best friend!

By phone Emma informed her when the ‘game’ was to take place, and when Cat was to accompany her and ‘assist’ in the game.

Later that day Gabriel briefed Cat by phone. She had to be present and be supportive, and when the doorbell rang, she had to slip into the next room, where she could follow the events on a monitor.

Seemed simple enough, but again she had a stroke of guilty conscience.
--
Lonnie lived in a small rented house, and she and Emma went there together at the arranged time.

Before they rang the door, Emma held her hand hard and looked her deeply in the eyes. Cat asked one more time, if she knew what she was doing, and if she really wanted to do this.

One last time, she tried to put her off by explaining that she was going to be his Bondage slave!

Emma felt confident that she could handle it, and was happy that she had Cat at her side. That gave Cat an even deeper sense of betrayal, and she went cold all over.

Her explanation had just made Emma more excited so they rang the doorbell.

Lonnie opened and smiled at them. First they had coffee, but conversation was slow, and the atmosphere tense.

Finally Lonnie got up and said: “Let’s do it then! I’ll show you what I have in mind.”

They went into the next room, where he had placed an ordinary dining room chair the middle. On a low table next to it, Lonnie had put the equipment, and he took each item and explained in detail what they were for.

He let Emma hold and feel each object. Then held up a black, Latex dress. The exact model, Cat had been wearing as a ‘novice’ at ‘The Society’: “I want you to wear this and nothing else!”

She took the dress, went into the bathroom and it took quite a while before she came back. Cat and Lonnie sat in an uncomfortable silence and waited.

The dress fitted perfectly (of course) and made her look good, Cat thought.

It was short with the hem just below the place where her legs parted.

It had open cups, supporting, lifting and spreading her small, pointed breasts.

The rest of the top was a series of decorative, thin, latex straps – exactly like the novice-dress.

She turned in front of them and smiled. She was still a little shy – which Cat could see from the red colour on her cheeks.

Lonnie made her sit down, and gave her an iron pole with a little ring in the middle and two, padded heavy metal cups in each end. He instructed her in how to put it on her spread her legs.

The loud sound as she locked the cuffs was ear shattering in the silence.

She tested it by lifting her feet, one at a time and moving about a little. It was solid and fitted snugly around her ankles.

Next he handed her a wide, red leather collar, with an equally wide strap extending down to two wrist cuffs at the end.

He made her put on the collar, gave her a long kiss, and explained that he was now going to secure her hands.

Slowly he took one hand after the other and buckled the cuffs around her wrists on her back. He lifted her wrists a little by shortening the strap to her collar.

He made sure, she was comfortable, and gave her plenty of time to look in the big mirror on the wall.

She leaned back with her arms on the other side of the backrest.

He told her that he was going to gag her. She agreed.

He produced a roll of pink gaffer-tape, asked her to keep her mouth shut, and wound it round her head a few times.

He then sat down and looked at his handiwork.

Slowly he caressed her body letting his hand explore her, putting it in between her legs, and making her feel that she was open and accessible. She made noises that sounded like she was enjoying it.

Then the doorbell rang.

They all startled. Lonnie got up without a word, Cat caressed her cheek and said: “This is were I leave you. I hope you will be a good little slave.”

Emma’s now desperate look followed her out the side door.

In the next room, there was a large monitor – as promised. The camera was placed in the centre of the room and pointing right down at Emma in the middle. It even had sound.

She could hear Emma making noises and twisting, turning and hopping in the chair.

3 masked men entered the room – with Lonnie close behind.

“Ah. There she is. Wonderful.”

Emma made even more noises and struggled even more.

Lonnie sat down at the far end of the room.

One of them grabbed Emma’s head in a gentle but firm hold, and another found the end of the gaffer-tape and said: “tsk, tsk. Gaffer tape. Sit still my dear, while I remove this nasty tape.”

The tape was wound off. Emma started to protest and curse, but not for long. The one holding her head had kept his grip, and the last one pressed the familiar red ball gag into her mouth. Her noises again became muffled, but her feet stamped on the ground in each end of the steel rod.

He stroked her cheek: “See. This is much better. Now we can even enjoy it, when you start drooling.”

She shook her head violently.

Still holding on to her head, one of the others tightened the collar, and checked that there was just room for a finger between the leather and her neck.

Two of them tightened the cuffs on her back, lifted her arms up to almost between her shoulder blades, and buckled the backstrap. They stood back and looked at her.

One of them explained to Lonnie: “Look. You have to do these things tight as this otherwise she will have much too much room to move and wriggle.”

Emma was apparently bent on proving him wrong, because she kept on wriggling, but he was right. Soon she stopped and finally became all still. Cat knew much too well how the tension of this strapping made one meek and still in a very, very short time.

They all smiled and looked at Emma.

Cat thought she recognized some of the voices from her own terrible ordeal on the night, they had ‘brought her in line’ after her first and only attempt to be free of them. Cat knew that they were not going to deviate from the plan they had been briefed with – no matter what Emma did – or tried to do.

A set of butterfly clips, connected with a short chain went into her nipples, and – using them to pull upwards, the guy holding the chain said: “ Now. Stand up dear. Yes, yes, I know it hurts. The more I pull, the more it will hurt, so you’d better stand up.”

They helped her getting up. While he was still holding the chain high and tight, the two others lifted her dress up and swung a medium type corset round her torso.

They type with straps that could be padlocked on the back.

Her body responded in a positive way. Her waist got considerable thinner as the corset was tightened and locked.

He pulled the dress down again and its elastic sides fitted tightly around her now thinner waist.

One removed the stool another grabbed her shoulders and pressed his knees behind hers, making her go down on the floor.

The chain from the butterfly clips, went up through a hole in the middle of her collar, got another chain connected to it, and as they pressed her face down on the floor, the chain locked to the little ring in the middle of the bar between her legs.

She struggled some more. Lifted her head tightening the chain from her nips to the bar between her legs, shaking her head from side to side and wriggled as much as she could.

One of them said: ‘Just pull, bitch, and you’ll loose a tit or two…!” He laughed out loud.

She got 10 strokes with a long, flexible cane on her bottom.

They did not have to hold her. The connection between her tits and the bar between her legs was enough to make her stay folded on the floor.

The first man got down behind her, grabbed her butt and pushed himself into her vagina with one long movement.

After having moved his body a few minutes in little in circles, he started going out and in. First slowly – then faster and faster.

He came with a low grunt.

One of the others handed him a large, black, oiled dildo that went into her vagina as soon as he pulled out.

Small chains with locks – as Cat new so well, attached the dildo to the bottom of her corset – back and front.

The next man did the same – just in her anus this time, making her scream under the gag even though he used his fingers to lubricate her opening with grease from a small flask first.
Probably because it was the first time her back opening had been used this way.

Cat remembered all too clearly how the first many times had hurt, and it was no comfort to know that Emma would be expanded enough for easy use during her training. Right now it was very painful.

The violation of her anus continued - after the man had emptied himself inside her - by inserting a similar dildo as in her front – and it too was also locked in place.

They undid the chain from the little ring and used her hair to pull her into upright position.

The ballgag was quickly replaced by a dental gag, in order for the last man to use her mouth freely to stimulate his penis and eventually spray his load in her mouth and over her face.

Of course they replaced the dental gag with a dildo variation. She had now been used in all openings, and had rods locked in the same 3 openings.

Cat had a very bad conscience by now. Her body felt cold all over and she was shaking slightly even though she could not take her eyes off the monitor.

She had been instrumental in getting her best friend, Emma violated in this manner.

They got Emma up on her feet, took the bar off her ankles, and replaced it with a set of steel cuffs with a short chain between them.

Still having the chain from her nipples and the long connecting chain hanging from her collar, they used that to attach her to a hook on the wall.

“Now don’t go anywhere, bitch. Just stay here and relax.”
They all laughed out loud at this sick joke….

She stood shaking and swaying and after a while she tried moving backwards – only to tighten the chain to her collar. She tried to pull with her body, but of course the hook stayed firmly embedded in the wall.
Cat could see that she did try to move her arms – in their painful bondage – but it was only small movements, and far from having any influence on the tight bondage at all.

“So, Lonnie. How about that coffee?”

They sat around drinking coffee for a while – ignoring Emma completely – they knew she was not going anywere – or able to free herself from any of her restraints.

A car was heard drive into the garage, and hooted low two times.

“The princess ride has arrived. We had better get to it.”

As they led Emma out by the chain, Lonnie came in to her room. He was white in the face, and very quiet. He told her that there was another camera in the garage. He switched to that.

Here they saw how Emma was dragged into a van that had a post in the middle of the passenger compartment.

They forced her to kneel with her back to the post. Strapped her to it, and lastly folded her ankles up behind the post and attaching them to a hook on the back of the pole. Her knees were the only contact, she had with the floor – and they rested on a small mat.

If Emma had ever had any idea that she would have a chance to escape – during transport – it was efficiently extinguished by this painful bondage, Cat thought.

They pulled a black bag (Ykkk!) over her head and tightened the strap round her neck – the door slid close, and they drove off.

Chapter thirtytwo
The return
About two weeks later, Gabriel announced that she was going back to ‘The Society’ – not for a dreaded re-training – but to ‘assist in matters there’ as he put it.

As she was one of the trusted slaves, she was called upon to help out in the day-to-day business of the place.

Upon her many questions, Gabriel just told her, that she would be instructed when there, and that she should not worry – all would be fine, and she would probably perform perfectly – as always.
--
Before going back to ‘The Society’ – and after Emma had been gone for a week - she had one meeting with Charlott and Maya.

She had been trying to avoid seeing them all through the last stages of Emma’s ‘preparation’, but their usual meeting was long overdue. So - hard pressed - she agreed to meet them at a new Burger joint that had just opened.

Apart from her usual fear of them finding out about the state of her body, she was even more nervous and had an extremely guilty conscience about Emma.

She did wear her corset, as it had become almost habitual for her. The textile cover would camouflage it – she thought.

She kept thinking about when and how she could excuse herself and leave.

Officially Emma was researching a story and had therefore gone under the radar for a while. As Cat was her closest friend, she had to answer a lot of questions from the two others. Mostly she answered as neutral as possible. She did not know much about the story Emma was researching. She had not discussed anything in detail with her, and did not quite know what it was all about etc. etc.

Visions of Emma in that dreadful cellar kept popping up in her mind, and she felt more or less sick from time to time.

Her friends noticed that she was not her usual happy, talkative and outgoing self, and more or less hinted that she might have problems with her love life. She also managed to ‘slide off’ on that, just making them more curious as to if she had been let down by a lover or….

At last the meal came to an end. She made a few attempts to excuse herself, but ended up going with them to a bar anyway – as they always did.

On her third trip to the counter for fresh drinks, a man that had been eyeing her every time, turned to her and said:

“Well hello there. Haven’t I seen you before here?”

The oldest pick-up line in the book, but she still choose to answer him. Maybe it was to get away from her friends for a moment, maybe it was because he was actually handsome.

”No – don’t think so. Don’t get out much at all.”
“You here with friends?”
“Yes. They are sitting over there.’

She pointed across the room, as she was scanning his hands for a ring like her own, but found nothing.
She still felt, she had to be careful. Maybe he was a member, but had chosen not to wear his ring this evening.
She did her best to flash her hands. Grabbing her drink and sipping the straw with her ring clearly visible to him.

No reaction.

They talked some more – or rather shouted through the noise of the place. She found out that he was Danny, a ‘Shipping Man’, whatever that meant.

She tried her best to reveal as little as possible about herself.

Then he got down to business: “ Why don’t we get out of here and find somewhere more quiet, where we can talk?”

She thought about it for a few moments. On one hand she would get away from her friends, on the other hand, she might be venturing into something, she could not handle.

He kept pushing and the noise in the bar made conversation almost impossible, so when he suggested a bar just round the corner, she agreed.

Her thoughts were that she would get away from her friends in an acceptable way, and she would be able to leave him at the bar before things got serious – or make him admit he was a member. Either way it seemed to be a win-win situation for her.

She gave her friends a few glances and made sure they understood, she was going – and with the guy.

They made appropriate faces indicating that they found him attractive, and that she had been lucky – again.
--
The bar was not crowded as it was early in the night, and as it was an all-nighter that had just opened.

She just took coffee, and he had a small beer. He was tall, lean, charming and had a nice smile. He also had a habit of stroking through his thick, brown hair with his left hand from time to time.

She could not help thinking that if it had been before in her life, she would have thrown himself at him, but now she knew that she was not allowed interactions with people outside ‘The Society’.
She was their property and they decided.

She did manage to push Emma back in her mind and felt relatively relaxed for the first time that evening.

He was very charming and kept giving her compliments and wove little, suggestive remarks into his conversation all the time. He also laid his hand on hers a few times.

The hand with the ring, so she was by now sure he had nothing to do with ‘The Society’.

She was quite aware that this was beginning to go to far. So when he asked if she was in a relationship, she knew now was the time.

“..ahem..relationsship..and relationship..you might call it that. I’m spoken for, if that’s what you mean.”
“How do you mean? Are you in a relationship or are you not?”
“It’s complicated. I think it will be too much to try and explain.”
“Ok. Does this relationship block you from having a good time? Or to be frank: shall we go back to my place and have some fun?”

His eyes locked on hers, and the both smiled.

“I suppose we could do that – but I must warn you. You might find out things, you don’t really want to know about me.”
“How bad can it be? I suppose you are not a she-male or cross-dresser? If so you have made a wonderful job out of it!”
“No, no – nothing like that…” She could not help giggling.

She thought for a while, the decided that she would make a go of it – come hell or high water. She would face whatever consequence later.

She lifted her butt off the chair. An operation a bit difficult as she had to support herself with her arms because of the corset, leaned over the table, put a hand behind his neck and let her lips meet his.

She gently pressed his mouth open, and let her tongue slide inside him. He grabbed her head with both hands, and they kissed for e very long time. To her surprise, her body responded immediately.

At ‘The Society’ and outside - with members - she had gotten used to being more or less wet and ready all the time. A ‘natural’ consequence of being open and available for all – at all times, but now she experienced the same quick reaction from kissing this stranger.

She thought: ‘This is going to be the quickest foreplay in history!’ and smiled as she continued exploring his mouth with her tongue.

Untangling themselves, they got up, and left. He put his arm around her waist as they walked down the street.

She had expected some sort of reaction when he felt the hard corset under her blouse, but – nothing. Maybe he was holding her so gently that he did not notice that he was holding a leather ‘armour’ rather than soft skin.

Fortunately he lived not far from the place and although her heart was up in her throat, she slowly began to come to terms with it.

If he reacted in a negative way as he started to discover her body, she would just leave quickly.

When the door closed behind them, he pressed her against it, grabbed her head again and they continued their kissing.

She swung a leg round his body and held him close. She held his head with both her hands, and his hands moved down on her chest, cupping her orbs. Then he stopped abruptly.

Her leg swung back down on the ground and he stepped away.

She held his eyes in steady gaze as her hands went down along the Velcro, slowly pulling it apart. She arched her back as much as the corset allowed, and pulled the blouse aside.

He looked down. She knew that her rings and the top of the corset were clearly visible.

He grabbed the edges of the blouse and slowly and gently pushed it over her shoulders.

Then he leaned forward and as he held her breasts with both hands, he slowly kissed and sucked each nipple. She grabbed his head, and fondled his hair, as she moaned and sighed as the tongue and lips worked her breasts and tits.

She could hear from his breathing that he found it exciting – good….

He came up and kissed her neck, caressing her ears with his lips, as he loosened the belt on her skirt. He did some fumbling, looking for some sort of buckle or buttons, but finally figured out that the belt was also Velcro-locked.

A short rip and the skirt fell to the ground. The blouse just slid off her arms and ended in the same place.

She kicked her shoes off…

He put an arm under her knees and another behind her back, and lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.

He undressed quickly while she lay on her back on the bed and watched.

By the look in his eyes, she could tell that his ‘discoveries’ including her now open crotch, did not matter.
She gave him her best smile.

He spread her legs with his hands, and descended between them. Then he worked his way from her feet to her crotch.
Kissing and caressing every possible and impossible spot on the way.

She gave a small cry when he reached her opening with his tongue, and he quickly found out how to open her with his fingers and the rings in her labia. His tongue had a great time pushing between the ring in her clit and the sensitive spot – first from one side, then from the other.

Her hands were deeply entangled in his hair, and she could not help arch her body a few times in ecstasy.

He did not pause, but drove her higher and higher – until she screamed for him to stop, and had multiple orgasms, throwing herself around and trying to avoid the oversensitive touch of his lips and tongue.

He did not let her off easily, but kept on till she felt she was floating on a red cloud of sweetness…

When he let go of her, she sank into the bed with a very, very deep sigh, only to feel him climbing further up, and slowly sliding his stiff rod into her wet vagina.

They quickly found the rhythm and she locked her ankles together on his back.

Pressing as if she could not make him go far enough into her.

Her first orgasm simply floated over into the next as he – faster and faster – moved in and out.

They both reached the peak of euphoria as she felt the warm semen spray deep inside her.

He brought her down again as his movements gradually slowed down, and lifted himself up on his elbows.

Stroking her sweaty hair away from her forehead, and kissing her face all over.

Eventually he rolled to the side of her, and they lay close for a long time, looking at the ceiling and
Getting their breathing under control.

She held his now relaxed member in one hand, and slowly and very gently caressed it.

She felt it begin to react again, and without them having exchanged a word, she moved forward and let her lips and tongue play with his manhood.

It was no match to a skilled slave like herself.

He reacted very fast and she sucked him dry as he cried out for her to stop.

Of course she used the trick of stopping once in a while and pressing hard on the head to reduce the tension – and then brought it back up again.

She completely controlled his ecstasy.

She brought him up and down at will – until she allowed him to release his load in her mouth, after which she sucked and swallowed all that he could produce.

Licked him nice and clean, brought the foreskin back with her lips and gave him her biggest smile.

He pulled her up and kissed her – a very long kiss. He could probably taste his own cum as much as she could, but that did not seem to bother him.

When they eventually had done all that could be imagined between a man and a woman, they lay in the bed side by side and looked up at the ceiling in the slowly increasing daylight.

Then came the questions.

“Tell me,” he said. “The tattoo’s on your back and stomach? They have a strong resemblance to the ring on your finger. They all show two rings linked together. Does it have some significance?”

She put a finger to his lips: “Shhh. No questions please.”

That did not stop him: “You are the strangest woman, I have ever met. You have steel rings in the strangest places, weird tattoo’s and you wear an old-fashioned corset?”

“Don’t you like my small waist?” She teased him.
“Ahem…. Yes. Very. It’s rather sexy with an hourglass shape like that. Enhances your figure in the most appealing way, but to me it seems rather extreme.”

“One get’s used to it – and it makes me feel good to wear it. It makes me feel very sexy as well.”

“What about the rings? How long have you had them, how does it feel to have them, and do they come out?”
“Stop, stop…many questions. I’ve had them for a while, it usually feels good, and they do not come out – and now I think you have had enough answers for one night.” She hoped to close the conversation with this – but no.

“You said you were not in a relationship – but in one somehow?”
“That’s what I told you before. It’s complicated, but I am spoken for. Actually I’m not allowed to make love to you.”

“I’m glad you decided to do so. It was one of the best love nights of my life. Can I see you again?”
“It’s not possible. In fact it would be best if we both forget about this night.”

“Hardly. That would be too much of you to ask of me – but I will keep it for myself, and I must confess that I am very disappointed that we cannot meet again!”

She slipped out of the bed.

“It can’t be helped. That’s the way it is, but I too will cherish you and this night in my heart.”
“That’s not a lot to go on – but I suppose I have to respect your wish, and be thankful for the time we have spend together. Will you give me an address or a phone number?”

“No. Definitely not – sorry!”

She was now almost dressed, bent over him and gave him one last, long kiss.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

She hurried out of the door.
--
A few days later, she ‘confessed’ to Gabriel, had to give a full account of her evening and night with Danny – and had an extensive whipping with the braided leather whip. He was very thorough, but she was grateful that it had not cost her an even harsher punishment.

She would not be able to show herself naked for a while. Her breasts had several long, blue and green stripes across them, Her stomach and the insides of her legs were marked the same way, and it hurt to sit down for a week after the punishment.

She had also – for some time – had a new and personalized CB. As the first one – that she had ruined – this one was also steel with neoprene lining, but the part going under her had an opening allowing herself to empty her bowels while still being encased in the belt. (The opening was not big enough for someone to use her back door – and it had nasty little spikes at the edge for extra security.)

It was also personalized and had her name ‘Cat’ engraved on a prominent place on the part round her waist.

It usually resided with her cuffs, collar and punishment utensils in the strongbox in her bedroom, which by now was seldom locked.

Gabriel made her wear it for almost a week – 24/7. She had been very good with the corsets, so her waist was a trifle smaller than when the CB had been fitted. That meant that she could slide the corset off between her skin and the belt – when she was showering each morning.

She learned to walk, sit, get up and down with the CB, and sometimes did not even notice, she was wearing it – but it was a more or less constant reminder of her status and her inability to decide over her own private parts – as well as the healing stripes and welts on her body….

Gabriel told her that they would be ‘investigating’ Danny to see if he was material for ‘The Society’.

Later she understood fully that she had been let off lightly. As ‘The Society’ was a closed club, and everybody went for medical check-up regularly, it was possible to have ‘unsafe’ sex with no risk.

Should one of the members be ‘contaminated’ with a venereal disease – it would be disastrous for everybody in ‘The Society’.
--
She still had fading marks on her body, when she went back to ‘The Society’ about a week later.

She was not yet trusted enough to know where the place actually was.

It was a new driver that picked her up at the designated time, but the same Mercedes with dimmed windows and locked doors that took her there.

She had packed a small bag – according to Gabriel’s instructions – with her cuffs, collar the CB and her 3 corsets.

In the garage at ‘The Society’ she was met by a ‘servant’, who introduced himself by saying;: “Welcome Catherine. I am Henry, you servant for this stay. Please follow me.”

As they trotted along the familiar corridors, halls and stairways, she had expected it to be a negative experience – all things considering. Instead she found a strange calmness. It was – yes actually – like ‘home’.
Here she did not have to hide or pretend. Here she was, what she was, and everybody knew it.

She just had to be at her best behaviour and relax.

All the slave rooms where the same, so the one she was to occupy did not differ from her old room except the window gave another view of the grounds.

This time she undressed and put her everyday clothes in the lockable cabinet in the closet, and closed it shut – hearing the lock releasing and barring her from access to them.

She had a quick look round and actually felt quite at ease and at home, till she looked through the bathroom door, and saw that an enema bag was already prepared and hanging from a hook on the wall inside.

Henry told her to get ready, and left.

She went into the toilet, inserted the end of the hose and inflated the small ball inside her, so it would stay in place.

Then she turned the valve and went down on all four, feeling the tepid liquid slowly seeping into her.

The bag was empty when Henry came back.

He watched as the absolute last fluid ran out of the bag, helped her up and removed the hose – after which she sat down on the toilet.

While she emptied herself she could see Henry preparing the things in the other room: Laying out a red ‘O-dress’, her corset, cuffs and collar on the bed.

She had time to look closer at him.

He was another of the ‘student-types’ – like Lonnie, but not quite as handsome. He had bright red hair and freckles, and a sturdy, square frame to his body. Either he had been doing some hard labour, or he was going to the gym – regularly.

When she had finished, she took a quick shower, did her makeup the usual way, and had Henry help her into gear.

He did not ‘inspect’ her like Lonnie had done on their first encounter, but he would have plenty of time for that later.

She looked in the full sized mirror on the wall one last time – and was quite satisfied with what she saw. Then followed Henry out.

Halfway down the long hallway, she met Yvonne and Jeanett. They had a noisy reunion, and Henry discreetly withdrew to the side, keeping an eye out for any Masters that might enter.

There was much embracing and cheek kissing.

Among the news and gossip, they told her that Hayley and she had been among the first slaves to be ringed and tattooed, but now it was almost a ‘standard procedure’ done to all the slaves at some point. The only exceptions being owned slaves, where their owner wanted no marking – or a different marking from the standard they used.

It was not just Yvonne and Jeanett that was happy to se her. Her first chore was to assist in the afternoon tea in the small salon, and here she did not have many moments to herself.

When Henry finally locked her up in her bed for the night she was exhausted and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next day she started working. She was paired with Yvonne to follow Annika, a slave recently out of the cellars.

Annika was a tall, blonde and blue-eyed girl with a shapely figure.

She had only spend a little over a week in the cellar, and was now dressed in the tight fitting, latex, short dress that identified her as a novice to ‘The Society’.

She still wore the remote controlled, electric collar with the nasty electrodes in contact with the front of her neck. It was seldom used, mostly when she was too slow to react on a command.

By their whispering conversations as they wandered the rooms and took care of their chores, Cat learned that Annika was a highly educated woman with a degree in ‘Nutrition Science’.

She had a penthouse flat in the inner city, not fat from Cat’s apartment, but in a much more expensive enclave of the city. She had moved further and further into the bondage scene, since she had been dissatisfied with a number of boyfriends.

One day she had accidentally stumbled into one of the members.

She seemed quite happy in her role as slave.

Cat was amazed that this apparently independent, intelligent woman so quickly had turned into a willing tool for the pleasure of men (and women) – just like she herself had done.

Cat wondered where Emma was, and why she did not meet her on her daily tours of the place – but she soon found out.
--
On the fourth day, she was ordered – together with Yvonne and Jeanette to assist in the cellars.

Annika was ‘taken’ to a private session for most of the day, so they were available for cellar duties.

Cat had a suspicion, and it was confirmed, when they gathered in the monitor room to have a look at the slave they were going to work with.

It was the first time Cat was inside this room, which was the last one room in the passageway.

Next to the doors to the four identical ‘training chambers’.

She realized how closely she had been watched during her time there, and blushed at the thought of unknown eyes had watched all the degrading things she had been exposed to there.

She also felt icy cold as she saw the insides of the rooms on the monitors.

The slave they looked at was Emma. She had been in there for almost 3 weeks!!

A Master explained that she was almost tame by now, but it had taken more than the usual time, as she had been very difficult to break in.

Today’s session would be a self-impaling lesson done by the increasing rods on the long bar – in all three openings, followed by securing the last of each rod inside her, and then prepare her and execute an electric torture session on the small stool.

Cat was to assist as best she could as this was a new experience for her – and her two friends had done it many times before. The Master would be with them all the time and supervise the whole thing.

Cat was also instructed that if she had the opportunity to make herself known to Emma, she was to try and convince her to be obedient and so on.

They were all masked, and the Master wore gloves.

One of the rules of the cellar was that only assisting slaves did not wear gloves – all others did.

This made the candidate feel even more alienated, as the only skin contact was between her genitals, mouth and breasts – and the corresponding parts on the Masters or Mistresses.

Cat’s heart beat fast – very fast - as she pulled the tight leather mask over her head.

The Master checked them one last time, then ordered the light to be turned up in the slave room, and off they went.

Another shiver went through her as she heard the airlock disengage with a much too familiar sound.

She took a deep breath and went in after the others.

Emma looked surprisingly well. She did have stripes of different age over most of her body, but otherwise looked ok.

As she slowly came round from her daze, the Master pulled the chain from her neck and wrists making her first sit and then stand up.

With his whip on the insides of her legs, he encouraged her with small, slight strokes to spread until he was satisfied.

He unlocked the short chain from her neck to the long chain from the wall, and turned and sat down in the only comfortable chair in the room.

Cat now lifted her arms up on her back and fastened them to the ring in her corset.

She then (as she had been told) went to the wall and got a suitable red ball gag, to which Emma obediently opened her mouth.

Cat made sure – by tracing a finger round her lips – that it was not pinching but sat nice and tight.
She then pulled her by the short chain to the Master, who ordered her to kneel.

He pushed her knees apart with the tip of his heavy boots. Cat stood at attention a little behind them – hands clasped at her back.

In the meantime, Jeanett and Yvonne had been busy mounting and oiling the rods on the beam. Now they adjusted the height in each end.

The Master instructed Emma in the well-known ‘game’: She could chose to have 50 lashes – in a place on her body that he would decide and with the tool he chose – or she could choose to mount the rods – one by one.

Each rod would represent 10 lashes.

He would ask her if she would like to continue after she had mounted a rod. She could then nod or shake her head.

If she shook her head, the remaining rods would be counted, and she would have the number of lashes accordingly. If she decided to go to the next rod, and was unable to mount it, the whole ting would be void, and she would receive the full 50 lashes.

He made her nod and get up.

The girls helped her swing one leg over the beam and moved her forward so that the first, long, black and oiled rod was just touching her stomach.

They adjusted the height of the beam in both ends, placed themselves on each side of her, attached a ropes to her ankle cuffs (going through a slit on the underside of the beam), and each held an end.

Supporting her upper arms, they guided her gently forward.

Emma went up on her toes, positioned herself on top of the rod, and waited till the Master said: “Ok. Lower yourself.”

As she bent her knees the rod slowly disappeared up inside her.

It was long.

Cat remembered how these rods pushed on the tip of the uterus – it was very, very uncomfortable.

“Are you all the way down?” The Master asked. She nodded en energetically.

The Master gave the girls a look, and they each pulled their rope, heaving Emma’s legs off the ground.

Everybody was now sure that it was all the way in. Her butt rested on the beam, and she had no support from her feet.

“All right. Will you do the next one?”

Emma nodded.

“Stand up.” The girls released their hold on the ropes, Emma’s legs found Terra Firma, and she lifted herself up slowly. When she was up on her toes, the Master said: “Move forward!”

She took small steps forward to the next rod, got on her toes and placed her opening at the tip of the rod.
‘OK. Lower yourself!”

Again she slid the rod into herself by bending her knees. This one was obviously fatter than the last one, but nothing compared to the last three, to which Emma had a clear view from her position on the beam.

Again her ankles were off the ground and a small tear ran down each of her cheeks. Cat remembered the feeling as if it was yesterday: Knowing that you are at the mercy of this Master – in a soundproofed room, and a choice between being split painfully open, or receiving an equally painful whipping.

Emma managed one more, with some problems. She had to move up and down to force the very thick thing inside her.

When asked if she wanted one more, she shook her head.

The Master pointed at Cat: “Secure it!”

Quickly she went up to the beam, found the small chains that all rods had hanging from their bottom, and locked two up her buttocks and one up her front. She used the small, open padlocks that Yvonne and Jeanett had supplied on a small tray beside the beam.

While she was still balancing on the beam with her feet off the ground, the Master reached under her, and released the rod from the beam with a small spanner.

“Get up, bitch!” He said. The girls let lowered her feet, and helped her off the beam.

The Master looked very satisfied that Emma now had the biggest rod she could take fixed in her vagina.

As the girls made the beam ready again, the Master explained that they were by no means finished.

The next game would be her anus, and as if to demonstrate this, the girls released a lock on the beam, and turned it sideways.

Then they proceeded to mount a fresh set of rods - with a slightly different design - in the holders.

The rules were explained to Emma – they were basically the same as before, and as he informed her that she had 20 lashes in ‘the bank’ – he made her kneel.

Cat assisted in mounting a steel t-pipe on Emma. A rod from her neck down to the floor and a transverse steel rod at the end – keeping her hands apart, but enabling her to stand on all four on the floor. The ‘T’ securing that she could not touch any part of her body.

They made her move on her knees till the tip of the first rod was resting on her back opening and her knees bent.

On the Masters orders, she pushed herself on to the rod.

When she nodded to the question if she was all the way in, Jeanett pulled a rope from her corset over the beam – very hard – making sure that the rod was definitely all the way in.

Again Emma could take 3 – but not more. Cat had to secure this beam with one chain up the slit in her back and two running along the sides of her stomach.

She now had 40 lashes – the Master smiling informed her – but it was not over yet.

Again the angle of the beam was changed, this time slant and a fresh set of shorter, but fatter rods were mounted.

The whole thing repeated.

This time with a kneeling Emma having her hands locked on the back of her corset once again.

She took one rod after the other in her mouth, a rope from her collar to the beam securing that each rod was as far inside her mouth and throat as it could go.

This time she took them all, and Cat secured the last one with straps round her head.

She was swaying when Jeanett and Yvonne lifted her upright. Cat helped them getting her over to the low chair; put her legs in the ‘U’-shaped holders and strapping her in.

The Master connected wires to the rods and her nips himself, then started the box, that would give her random jolts at random spots for as long as he desired.

He administered the 40 lashes with a very thin and long cane – on the insides of her legs – 20 on each side.

He took some pleasure in this, and gave her plenty of time to ‘come back’ after each stroke.

He then turned on the electricity, and instructed them to keep watch over her till he came back.

It was the longest wait, she had ever had.

They had to sit on the bed.

The three of them side by side, and watch as Emma repeatedly got jolted and twisted and turned in her restraints – sometimes arching herself in a tight angle, sometimes just shaking.

All the time with tears running down her cheeks and drool dripping from her chin down between her breasts.

Finally the Master came back, stopped the machinery, had them release Emma, take the rods and gag out and help her to her bed.

As they left the Master nodded at Cat. She was to stay and repair the damages and comfort Emma.

She sat down on the bed beside her. Very quietly she whispered: “It’s me, Emma. Catherine.”

Emma opened one eye and looked at her masked face: “Is it really you, Cat?”

“Yes. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course, but please, please get me out of this room, please.”

“Shyyh. Not so loud. There are cameras and mikes everywhere here. We have to whisper, and I don’t have much time.”

She moved down to her legs, and spread them very gently. Opened the jar of ointment, and began administering it on the fresh whip marks on the insides of her thighs. Emma shivered as her fingers put the cold, soothing lotion on the welts.

“What day is it?”
“You don’t need to know. All you got to do is concentrate. Now listen carefully.”

She proceeded with the lotion.

“You must be obedient, and do whatever they command you to. It’s the only way out of here. You have been here far too long.”

“I know. I fought in the beginning. Screamed and struggled and did my best to give them a hard time, but they have measures for everything I tried – and it just made it worse. Have you been through this as well?”

“Yes – but I quickly found out what they wanted, and was not here for as long as you. If you behave according to their book, you’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I think I just about grasped that by now. It’s been terrible….”

“I know. We have all been there – but believe me: It’s not a bad life when you get out of here. You are over the worst.”

She turned Emma round on her stomach, and continued with the lotion.

“ahhh…that’s very nice. Thank you, Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Just pull yourself together and behave.”

She finished with the lotion, bent over and kissed Emma’s forehead softly.

“Sleep well. Try and rest. I hope to see you on the outside very soon, my little friend.
- but Emma was already fast asleep.

She got up and went to the door. As they had observed her from the monitor room, the airlock hissed as soon as she was in front of it, she went out and heard the hissing as it closed behind her.
--
A few days later, Cat, Yvonne and Jeanette received Emma in one of the slave rooms. They gave her a long, warm bath, massaged her body, rubbed it with oils and lotions, and put her to bed.

Cat was pleased to see that Emma’s servant seemed to be a decent and shy young man.

She was sure things would work out fine for Emma now.

Unfortunately, Cat and Yvonne was stuck with Annika, while Emma got Jeanette and a girl Cat did not know as her ‘followers’, but they did have lots of opportunities to whisper together as they walked the grounds and hallways.

Emma had taken Cat’s advice, and was obedient, quick and energetic in her serving of the Masters.
--
Donna was nowhere to be seen, and nobody seemed to know anything about her.

Rumours had it that she had been sent on to ‘The Farm’. A place only whispered about with awe among the girls.

Through the grapevine Cat got to know that there were a place called ‘The Farm’, and that it was run by another Society, specializing in Pony girls.

She had overheard some of the Masters talking about their special Equestrian interests, and had also met a few slaves, who had told her that they were used as ponies from time to time.

As with so many other ‘secrets’ of the place one had better be silent about it not to get oneself into trouble.

Fact was that they never saw or heard from Donna again – at ‘The Society’ or otherwise.

Chapter thirtythree
Playing with Emma
Cat had to go back to work before Emma was finally released, but by the time Cat was on her way, she had followed Emma’s development, her ringing and tattooing – the latter was done at ‘The Society’ instead of the club, she had been at – a great relief for her to know.

They had also whipped each other – on command, been helpful and supportive of each other when they were in need of comfort and assured each other that they were on the right track.

It was obvious to most of the Masters and slaves that Emma and she were friends – and had been so before their lives had taken this turn.
--
The last evening before Cat had to leave, there was an introduction evening for 4 new Masters. She discovered that she and Emma were part of the evening’s entertainment.

They were not informed as to what they were expected to do – of course, but were made ready in their respective rooms.

Cat by Yvonne who helped her bathe, oiled her body and put the usual makeup on.

She was wearing corset, cuffs and collar and a long red cape, that covered her body – with a large hood leaving only her face free to be seen.

When the time came, Yvonne fetched her from her room, led her by a collar leash to the main hall.

Here she was walked up on the platform and told by a waiting Master to stand still, face the group of Masters by the fireplace and wait. Yvonne positioned herself behind her – still holding the leash.

A few minutes later Emma joined her – also in a red cape, led by Jeanette.

The light was slowly turned up on the platform, and they stood quietly in the shining spotlight. Side by side with their ’handlers’ right behind them holding their leashes and the Master between them.

She recognized a lot of the men in the group by the fireplace, and quickly identified the 4 new ones, even though they all wore the same ‘Masters Outfit’.

A few slaves were kneeling in a group right up to the fire. She saw that they were all in the ‘O-dress’ costume, so there were now novices – only experienced slaves present.

After having stood there for a long while, the Master in the middle quietly ordered them to take their capes off and throw them down on the side of the platform.

They now stood with their hands down their sides, legs spread, heads down and waited again.

Cat sensed a lot of eyes measured her and Emma.

On the Masters almost whispering orders, they were led down from the platform – side by side with their handlers in front – and up to the group by the fireplace.

Again they took up the required position, and again the men inspected them.

“Turn slowly – very slowly.” The Master whispered. They did so – as slowly as they could.

“Now walk them to then end of the room and back to the other end.”

As they walked, she felt the short sting from the long, braided leather whip, the Master used to ‘encourage’ them with on the back of her legs and bottom.

She felt like a prize animal in a zoo or a circus thus being ‘walked’ in presentation.

Back at the original position in front of the men, the Master waited a few minutes before ordering them back to the platform.

Here the leashes were taken off and Yvonne and Jeannett went over to the slave group by the fireplace.

The Platform was about 3-4 meters from the nearest easy chair at the fireplace, so they were in absolute full view of everybody.

“Turn and face each other!” He ordered. “Kneel. Closer.”

They now sat opposite each other, hands on their legs, eyes interlocked and their knees almost touching.

The Master bent down and whispered: “Now. Make love to each other – and you had better do a good job of it!”

Cat froze. This was her best friend Emma.

She had not served many women, and had never felt at ease by it – except maybe Mistress K, who had had her a few times – and actually made her feel good by it. She had had a number of good orgasms by ‘K’s skilful hands.

Now this was different. This was her best friend, whom she had never had any sexual thoughts about.

She could see from the look in Emma’s eyes that she was having similar thoughts.

How devious of the Masters to conceive this situation.

After a long waiting moment, she leaned forward, caressed Emma’s cheek with one hand, and slowly moved close to her face. She tried to give her a small smile, and Emma responded by smiling back.

This was very awkward!

She turned her head sideways and made her lips meet Emmas. She kissed her a few times. Tiny, sisterly kisses with closed lips after which she let the tip of her tongue touch Emma’s lips. Emma opened her mouth and let her tongue inside. She moved a hand up and caressed the back of Cat’s head.

Cat moved closer on her knees, sliding one knee in between Emma’s legs.

They both used their free hand to hold around the others slim waist as they continued kissing.

Slowly – very slowly Cat moved the hand from the waist and up till she cupped Emma’s small, pointed breast.

Her thumb gently touching the areola and the point, Emma gave a small shiver, and Cat could feel the goose pimples on the skin. Emma almost bit Cat’s tongue as she closed her mouth.

She moved her hand a bit away, and waited a minute, then moved it back and began again to caress the point and the area around it.

This time Emma just kept on kissing her, and held even firmer on to the back of her head.

A second later, she felt Emma’s long nails slide up the top of her legs, until it reached her torso. From there they very slowly moved down in the fold between her torso and legs.

Emma’s hand resting lightly above her crotch and one finger touching her clit.

Cat let her knees glide even further apart and felt small, electric shots from her clit as Emma’s finger moved slightly back and forth over it.

To reassure Emma, she gave a very quiet, small ‘mmmmm’-sound.

Cat stuck her nails in Emma’s back, and pressed her head backwards by the thumb and forefinger that held Emma’s jaw.

She buried her tongue deep inside Emma.

Now that they were over the first shyness and awkwardness of the situation, they put some energy into it.

To Cat it was strange to touch someone else’s rings and intimate places. She had not satisfied herself or hardly touched herself since the beginning of her quest. Now she got a first hand impression of how it was to fondle these ringed intimate parts.

It almost became a competition of who could find the most racking place on the others body to work on.

Their hands and fingers were all over each other, and their nails made little tracks on the skin as they let them slide over the most sensitive places of their bodies.

Cat drew herself away and looked at Emma.

They both had wet eyes, short breaths, open and wet mouths and shivering bodies.

She pushed Emma gently and slowly down on her back, and began from her toes to kiss and caress her all the way up to her mouth.

She was suddenly aware that some of the Masters had left their comfortable chairs and was now standing close around the platform watching them in the light.

She thought that as they had devised this situation, she would make sure that she and Emma gave them a show for their money. If they had thought it would be difficult or whatever for her and Emma – she was going to disappoint them.

Up at Emma’s head, she pretended to kiss and suck her earlobe, but managed to whisper: “Come on, girl. Let’s give them a run for their money!”

The moaning “yes, yes..” that Emma emitted was probably taken by the bystanders as a sign of ecstasy, but was of course the answer to her remark.

Emma arched her back and held her head as she sucked first one nipple then the other, while her hand was busy in Emma’s crotch.

Emma’s other hand was busy in Cat’s crotch.

She placed herself backwards on top of Emma with her legs beside her head, and her face in her crotch – in one long, sliding, quick movement.

Emma raised her knees and spread them wide, giving her full access to the soft, wet opening.

She descended on it with a lot of energy. Using everything she remembered from her training.

She sucked on the inner labia, let her tongue slide round on the outside of the top of the opening.

Sucked the clit into her mouth and worked it with her tongue.

Held her hands under Emma’s legs and let her nails play with the soft skin just before her opening and under her vagina.

At the same time, she felt Emma doing almost the same to her sensitive parts in the other end.

They came – without pretence – jumping and screaming.

Like one strange organism in cramps on the platform. Entangled legs and arms everywhere.

She rolled off Emma and they lay side by side panting.

Some of the men even clapped at their performance – and one shouted ‘Bravo, girls’, like he had just witnessed some kind of show, which one could say he had.

They did not care, but laughed up at the ceiling while holding hands – tight.

The men walked away, the light dimmed, and soon after Jeanett and Yvonne discretely came and helped them up and into their capes – and back to their rooms, apparently their performance had been so successful that they were excused for the rest of the evening.

Cat felt she had had her share of new Masters and was happy not to have her body exposed to their whims.

When Yvonne and Henry put her to bed soon after, she had a happy smile on her face, and Yvonne gave her an admiring look.

She slept like a baby…

Chapter thirtyfour
Emmas dilemma 4
When Cat had been home for some days, Emma called.

She had just been sent home only to discover that her apartment had also had a visit from the ‘redecorators’.

Cat told her to do nothing, and that she would be right over.

By now Cat had figured out that there was webcams in hidden places in her apartment.

One day she had accidentally stumbled into a monitor room at ‘The Society’.

The door had been open, as the operator had probably gone to the toilet and forgotten to lock it.

She had seen that some of the monitors showed what seemed to be private homes, and soon figured out that they were all under more or less constant surveillance.

She had only found one camera in her own apartment: The one in the beam over her dinning room table.

As with the fastenings of her bed and table, the camera could not be removed and was embedded deep in the wood.

She had let it stay, as her bitter experience told her that it was most unwise to tamper with anything belonging to ‘The Society’.

It also made sense to her how they had been able to know when she was asleep the night they came to punish her, and how they seemed to know more about her taking to Emma about ‘The Society’ than she knew she had told them.

She now assumed that Emma’s apartment had probably been fitted the same way.
--
So as soon as she arrived, she put a finger to her lips, and suggested that they go for coffee at the nearest café.
A little puzzled, Emma agreed.

Making her keep quiet till they were well seated and had their coffee, she told Emma about the cameras probably in her flat and about her own experience when first released from ‘The Society’.

Emma showed her (discretely) that she was in a CB, and told Cat about the rods that sat deep inside her.

Emma had also been ‘invited’ for a meeting the next evening.

Emma had plans of abandoning ‘The Society’ – just as she had had herself, but hearing of Cat’s experiences with that, she decided – after some convincing – that she would keep the appointment the next evening, and then see along the road if she somehow could be released.

They had gone over the ‘options’ Emma had in her mind. She could immediately see that staying away from the ‘invitation’ was a very, very bad idea as she heard of Cats’ experience.

An idea of ‘going away’ for a period was quickly discarded as Cat told her that sooner or later, she would have to come back, and then they would surely be waiting for her.

All the time the dreaded cellar popped up in their conversation. They both knew that they were only a short ride away from being there again – and the thought made them both shiver….

Cat let her continue to believe that at one point there would be means of getting out of ‘The Society’ as it was already a large mouthful for Emma to accept that she was outside ‘The Society’ but by no means free and that her life change was permanent.

They had more than one cup of coffee, and had time to laugh and be serious as they went over their experiences at ‘The Society’.

Emma liked the idea of meeting Walther the next evening.

Of course Cat could not guarantee that it was so, but the setup seemed just like the one, she had experienced. (It turned out to be just so!).

As Emma realized she was out of options and Cat had calmed her down and given the most important pieces of advise she could, they parted with a sisterly kiss on the cheeks.

None of them mentioned the lovemaking they had been forced to do in public on the last night at ‘The Society’.

Epilogue
Gabriel kept Catherine as his personal slave – they were very happy in all respects of the word.

Lonnie finished his college degree in economics within the year. He went on to have a row of successful and well-paid jobs enabling him to pay the entry and subsequent fees for ‘The Society’. He kept Emma as his personal slave.

Cat and Emma stayed best friends – and fellow slaves…and they were all very happy with the arrangement.
Once or twice a year they had a ‘holiday’ – and went to ‘The Society’ to live out their wildest fantasies – together.

Jeanette and Yvonne became ‘resident slaves’: Some of the few people employed full time by ‘The Society’.
They worked and lived at ‘The Society’ and never had their own Master.

Mistress K continued to be a kind mentor (and also lived at ‘The Society’) for the slaves.
She was much appreciated and respected by all.
Her only regret was that she never got to own Catherine, whom she considered one of her best students.

Walter showed up now and then at different occasions. He never participated very much, but stayed in the background – observing. He called upon Catherine a few times a year, when they met and had a good time together.

Catherine was not the least bit surprised when she at a later date met Danny, her one-night stand, at ‘The Society’. He had been discretely approached, and gently introduced to the ways of ‘The Society’.
Catherine noticed that he behaved like a fish in water at ‘The Society’ on the occasions, she met him – and they had a few ‘encounters’ to their mutual satisfaction.

Henry the new servant did his stint at ‘The Society’ then turned to other interests.

Annika, Cat’s protégé at her first duty at the society went on to become one of the most desired slaves. She never got her own Master, but continued to be owned by ‘The Society’ in general. She seemed very happy with that arrangement.

THE END

“If I exorcize my devils, my angels might leave too”, Tom Waits

Acks
Here one normally thank everybody one has consulted in the process of writing. Of course I cannot name names etc.
I will thank the real Catherine, who is an English girl, whom I stumbled over at an elegant French bondage internet site! (The site is not running anymore).
I do not know anything about her – except that she has – involuntarily acted as the body and gestalt for this story – and thus being my brave, little heroine….


o_girl1@hotmail.com