Abducted Ch. 10

In the silence, the Grand Inquisitor spoke. "She didn't count!" he cried. "I can take that one again!"

"Wait, Excellency!" Hans announced, putting up his hand and moving towards Emma. He removed her blindfold, and lifted an eyelid. "As I thought," he said, "she's fainted!"

"That's a pity. I enjoyed her screams. We'll forget that she didn't count the last one in that case. I'll just give her the last two, and go."

"No, Excellency!" said Hans, angrily. "You know it is not allowed to punish a slave who is unconscious!"

"Well, revive her, then! Throw some water over her, or something."

"No, Excellency. You know that once a slave has regained consciousness, it is not permitted to punish her again with the same implement until twelve hours have passed."

The Grand Inquisitor regarded him with fury. "And you, of course, would report the matter," he hissed though clenched teeth. "Your word against mine! Who do you think will be believed?"

"My word – and hers," replied Hans. "And after her performance at the Inquest this evening, I think her word will count for a lot! You know I'm right!"

"Too bad," said the old man, accepting defeat. "I need to leave for the capital first thing in the morning. But I'm sure she'll remember to-night. Goodbye, Master Hans, enjoy your slave."

He dropped the bullwhip, and headed for the door, obviously disappointed that his enjoyment had been curtailed. Hans called after him, "Goodbye, Excellency. I hope you have a good trip!"

Quickly, he lowered Emma from the pulley, released her wrists, and carried her to the bed. He wrapped her unconscious body in a blanket, and went to put on a kettle and fetch some ointment.

Returning to Emma, he unwrapped her from the blanket, and gazed at her pale body, marred by four angry red hoops. Gently, he began to massage soothing balm on her tender wounds. Eventually, she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she moaned gently. She began to shiver. She was in shock.

Hans wrapped her in the blanket, and whispered quietly, "It's OK, Little One. He's gone! Lie quietly; I'm just getting you a warm drink."

'Tea!' he thought, dredging his memory for the correct remedy for shock. 'Hot, sweet tea!'

As quickly as he could, he made a pot of tea, poured some into a large mug, and added milk and two large spoons of sugar. He returned to Emma, and propped her upper body against his chest, wrapping his arms around her, and bringing the mug to her lips. "Drink this," he ordered, "it will do you good!"

She sipped gratefully, and snuggled against his body. "Has he really gone, Master?"

"Yes, Little One. He's gone."

She sipped again. Her shivers reduced. "Oh, Master, that hurt so much! Did I really deserve that?"

"No, Little One, I don't think so; but, regrettably, he has the authority to punish you as he sees fit. Unfortunately for you, he and I have a long-standing feud, going back about three years."

"Yes, Master?"

"I persuaded His Highness to over-rule one of the Grand Inquisitor's judgements. He was not pleased. Ever since, he has tried to get back at me. When he can't get back at me directly, he takes it out on one of my charges."

Gradually, her shivering subsided. "Oh, Master," she whispered, "it stings so! May I look?"

He nodded. She pulled back the blanket and gazed at her white body. Gingerly, her fingers traced the angry red mark below her breasts. "The marks look terrible," she pronounced. "Will they go?"

"Yes, in about three weeks I expect. He wouldn't want to risk the marks lasting longer than the permitted twenty-eight days; he knows I would report him to His Highness. You'll need to apply the ointment several times a day; that will help the pain and speed up recovery. At least he avoided your nipples."

Playfully, the tips of his fingers brushed across her nipples which hardened at his touch. She sipped her tea, and snuggled against him. A familiar feeling spread through her. She felt safe again with Hans' arms around her. This was not just the man who a few minutes earlier had beaten her and used her to satisfy his lust; this was her Master. Her nipples tightened further, swelling into little brown buds; as if instinctively, her thighs parted slightly, her naked pussy lips peering out invitingly. He smiled to himself, and stroked her clitoris.

"Mmm," she murmured, "that's nice, Master. Are you going to fuck me again?"

"No, Little One!"

She pouted. "But I didn't get to cum last time!"

He pretended anger. "Oh, Girl, you have so much to learn! You no longer have any right to an orgasm. In future, you will cum only when I allow it. I will allow it occasionally, sometimes as a reward, but not always. Mostly, I will allow you to cum simply because it would please me to watch you in the throes of an orgasm. Is that clear, Girl?"

"Yes, Master, I suppose so," she replied sadly.

"In any case," he continued, "there is no time. You need to get to bed; we have to be up early in the morning, to attend the Execution Ground at seven o'clock."

"For Boris and Clyde?" she queried.

"Yes. We are expected. I told you, the Chief Executioner rang me earlier. Go and wash, and put on some more ointment. Make sure you use the toilet – you won't be able to during the night."

Obediently, she rose and headed for the bathroom. Suddenly, he reached into his pocket, withdrew a small white bundle, and threw it in her direction. "And put these on!" he ordered.

Emma caught the bundle and held it up, to reveal a pair of skimpy silk briefs. Puzzlement crossed her face. "Panties, Master? But I thought…"

"Yes," he interrupted, "normally they are forbidden, but for some purposes they are allowed. Do as I say; don't query my orders, Girl!"

"No, Master!"

A few minutes later, Emma returned, to find Hans standing by the bed with several lengths of silk rope. "Do you normally sleep on your back or on your side?" he enquired.

"On my side, Master."

"Left or right?"

She thought for a few seconds. "Right, normally, Master."

"Lie on the bed, on your right side!" he ordered.

He took her left ankle, attaching a rope to the suede anklet, and then to the left-hand foot-post on the bed, leaving several centimetres of play. He repeated the exercise, attaching her right ankle to the right-hand foot-post. He then attached her wrists together with the catches on the suede wristlets, and tied them to the right-hand head-post. He checked the amount of slack on the three ropes. "That should be OK," he announced. "You can move a bit, but you certainly won't be able to masturbate! I don't want you cumming while I'm sleeping."

"Oh, Master," she whimpered, "Please! I won't sleep if I can't stroke myself a little!"

"You can AND WILL!" he urged, crossly. "You will learn to sleep in the most unusual positions." He looked at his watch. "It's almost one o'clock," he announced. "We need to be at the Execution Ground by 6.55 at the latest, so I'll set my alarm for six o'clock. That will give us time for a quick breakfast. I'll set yours for 5.55, so that you wake up first."

Hans took something out of his pocket, and started moving dials. He placed on the table what looked like a control box. He retrieved something else from his pocket and Emma craned to see what it was. It looked like a small vibrator. He opened a drawer, removed a tube of lubricating gel, and spread some on the vibrator. Deftly, he used one hand to move aside the gusset of Emma's panties and with the other slipped the vibrator into her vagina, re-arranging her panties to hold it in place.

"That," he announced, in response to her puzzled expression, "is your alarm. "Let's just test it!" He moved a small switch on the control box, and immediately a soft buzzing sensation assailed her cunt. Her eyes flew wide open as the vibrations increased, and she gasped in astonishment at the intensity. "Seems to be working," he smiled, turning the switch so that the sensations ceased. He fiddled with the controls. "OK, that's it. It will go off at 5.55! Until then, sleep well, Little One! Good night."

Almost affectionately, he stroked her cheek, and covered her naked body with a large thick silk sheet.

"Good night, Master," she whispered.

She heard the curtain being pulled across, separating her from the rest of the 'playroom'. The lights went out, and she heard the door closing.

Emma lay still. Her mind was in a whirl. So much had happened in one day, and she wasn't sure how to make sense of it. Here she was, tied to a strange bed by a man she barely knew, but whom she called 'Master'. She – Emma Stewart!!! No man was her master! But yet, it somehow felt right to be subservient to this man, to obey him in all things. In spite of his maltreatment of her, the beating on her bare buttocks, and the fact that he had practically raped her when she was powerless to resist him, she felt safe and secure with Master Hans.

Her body ached. Her pink buttocks glowed gently, but the over-riding sensation was the constant pain from the four red wheals on her body, left by the Grand Inquisitor. She longed to relieve the pain by gently stroking the marks, but her hands were securely attached to the bedpost.

She felt the small vibrator buried in her vagina. She tried to bring her thighs tighter together, to manipulate the intruder, but had insufficient purchase on her ropes. 'Damn,' she thought, 'if only he'd tied my legs the other way round, I could have rubbed my pussy on the mattress! That might have helped to distract me from the pain.'

Then she realised. Of course! Master Hans was an expert! Goodness knows how many women he had tied to this bed – or to other beds! If he said she wasn't to masturbate, then he would make sure that she couldn't.

She was exhausted, and closed her eyes, trying to sleep, but her thoughts kept revolving in her brain. She was increasingly confused. Was she going to settle meekly for a life of slavery – to be a sex toy for any man to whom she was ordered to give herself? No! She couldn't bear the thought! Somehow, she would escape, but for now, she needed to pretend to succumb to her predicament and to obey her Master.

At last, tired, lulled by the faint hum from the air conditioning system, she drifted off into sleep.