Abigail's Abduction

He came round my chair, took my head gently in his hands and kissed me, with infinite tendernss, letting my tongue flirt with his, before pulling away, and calling, 'Clara!'

The black girl came trotting in on her heels, and gave a respectful little curtsy.

'Clara,' said Bruno, 'show Abigail your piercings, please!'

The lovely negress took a coupl of paces, stood before me, and put her tongue out, revealing a decorative silver stud, not the usual bar-bell, but a pretty knob sat flush on top of her tongue.

'That's nice,' I said, but she hadn't finished. She raised her short skirt, showing a smoothly-shaven pubis, below which there sat a silver ring with two links of chain and a little set stone dangling prettily from it. I could see that the ring was threaded through a piercing in her clitoris-hood.

'Thank you, Clara,' said Bruno, 'I should like you to take Abigail to be done later this week, please.'

'So that's what you meant by marking, sir?' I asked.

'Well no, not exactly,' he said, 'but that's for later.'

I knew not to pursue the matter further, and I loved the idea of being pierced – had always wanted to have it done, but never plucked up the courage, no the decision was being made for me!

Bruno was speaking again: 'Now, my dear, it's been a long day. I think you need to rest. Go and sleep. After breakfast, Ana will prepare you and bring you to me.'

Alone in my room, I put on a short silk slip, which seemed to caress my body, in its stte of anticipation, and sliding between the satin sheets, I masturbated myself to sleep, images of Bruno, pounding the arsehole of the beautiful Jane, while I was pinned down by her brutish husband, his enormous cock threatening to split me apart, then more imaginary scenes, of myself, suspended by my wrists, being flayed by medieval monks, filled my head, and merged into dreams. When I awoke, it was still dark, and I was soaked, with sweat and my vaginal secretions. I got up and showered, went back to bed and slept soundly.

The next thing I knew, sun was streaming into my room, and Ana stood there with my breakfast tray.

I drank my coffee gratefully, but picked at the croissants, full of nervous excitement, and was shaking with it when Ana returned, and took the tray from me.

'You're very nervous,' she observed, a bit superfluously.

'I'm excited,' I told her, and she looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. Was it disbelief, or envy, or something else?

While I was making up, Ana fussed around, selecting this and that, and then came and put my hair up in a French twist. She next fitted me with pretty ankle and wrist restraints, broad bands of silver and diamante, each with a large stout ring set into it, matching my collar, which I wore permanently. They all fitted snugly. She gave me a long white transparent nylon negligee to wear, with long, voluminous sleeves and a cord at the waist.

'You will always wear this when you are to be punished,' she told me, 'the Master likes ritual.'

Ana clipped foot-long lengths of steel chain between my ankles and wrists

'Today, you are to go barefoot,' she said, and completed the job by clicking a leash into my collar ring. 'Come on,' she said, 'your're ready,' and led me out, along the corridor, and down to a room I had never seen before.

'This is the library,' she said, 'the Master's private place.'

I looked around. It was a large, rather gloomy room, and cold. I shuddered when I saw the immense wooden pillars that held up the gallery floor at the far end, for into them were set ring-bolts, with chains dangling from them, and more chains hung from the soffite of the gallery itself. On racks on the wall behind were whip and canes of several kinds, all neatly arrayed. We were alone there, but not for long, because the door opened a minute later, and in walked Bruno, wearing a wine-red dressing gown.

'Good morning, my dear,' he said, as if we were going shopping or something. He looked me up and down, and taking my lead from Ana, led me to a point below the gallery, where he unclipped my leash, removed the chain from my wrists, and told me to take off my negligee. I did so, and stood there, feeling cold, naked and barefoot on the tiled floor, my ankles still shackled. He took my wrists and, lifting them above my head, clipped them deftly together, to a snap-link on the end of a chain which hung below the gallery. He walked slowly around me, the tension building within me, my whole body screaming – 'if you're going to whip me, get on with it!'

But he was in no hurry.

'I want to do some things to you before I whip you, Abigail,' he said, and took from the pocket of his dressing gown two little silver clamps, connected by a length of chain, I had never seen before.

'These are nipple clamps,' he said, 'and I want you to get used to wearing them sometimes. I think they will hurt quite a lot.'

I watched, wide-eyed, as he opened up the clamps, then slipped them onto my nipples, already distended by the cold. Then he tightened them down hard and I gasped at the sudden pain which shot through my breasts as the blood supply was cut off. He hung a silver weight on the connecting chain, and the pain grew worse, but my nipples were always sensitive, and the pain had a sexual component, not unlike the pain I was getting used to from the butt-plug which now felt much more comfortable in my rectum. But Bruno hadn't finished with his fiendish ideas, and whilst he was turned away from me, he had taken a small box from his pocket. Now he opened it up, and I saw it contained several long needles, with plastic handles, like hat-pins.

He looked into my eyes, and taking one of the needles out of the box, he pierced the tender flesh just above my right breast with it – it was agony, and I yelped with pain.

He repeated this twice more around my breasts, once just above the nipple, which hurt terribly, then treated me to two more in my buttocks.

Ana, meantime, had been stood nearby, an inscrutable expression on her face, and I couldn't help wondering what was going through her mind.

But the time had apparently come for my whipping, and Bruno walked slowly around behind me, and whispered in my ear, 'I'm going to whip you now, you little slut. It's what you want, isn't it?'

'Yes, Master,' I whispered.

'Louder!' he rapped, 'and you must ask me for it!'

'Please whip me, Master,' I said.

'One thing,' he said, 'I'm going to use the riding crop on you. You will not cum until I give you my permission. Is that understood?'

I looked at him, not knowing if he seriously thought I was going to have an orgasm while being whipped.

'Is that understood?'he repeated, 'And don't look directly at your Master – you will get extra strokes for that.'

I heard him say something to Ana, which didn't sound very friendly, then he strode over to the racks on the wall and was back at once with a long, leather crop. I closed my eyes, and suddenly thought – My God, all my young life so far has been leading up to this! It's what I'd always longed for – a man to dominate, humiliate and even torture me. Hurt me, please!

I heard the crop whistle through the air, then felt the first awful, stinging pain as its leather thong bit into my pale flesh just above my shoulder blades. I gritted my teeth and remained silent, but couldn't suppress a small 'oh' at the second vicious stroke, a fraction lower.

'That's lovely,' said Bruno, 'you're going to have some very pretty welts. I can't wait to whip you with the singletail.'

He laid into me again and again, each time lower, an expert at his trade, and I squirme and writhed in my bonds as he struck, but managed not to cry out. When he reached my lower back, he felt my crack with his free hand.

'You're very wet, you little slut,' he said, 'I do believe you're enjoying this.'

When I didn't reply, he said sharply, 'Are you?'

I couldn't trust myself to speak, and merely nodded dumbly.

'Four across your buttocks, then you can cum,' he said, and when I didn't respond, he said, 'did you hear?'

'Yes Master, thank you Master.'

He returned to his labour, and fetched me four ever sharper, awful strokes on my tender arse, but the juices that had built up in me were demanding release, and it took every bit of self-control I had to hold off my shattering orgasm until I had counted the fourth cruel stroke, then I screamed as the flood-gates burst and I squirted spectacularly, some of it hitting my Master as he returned the crop to its rack.

Ana was giggling, off to one side, and, fortunately, Bruno saw the funny side, and joined in the fun, as he unclipped me, then gave Ana instructions to tend my wounds.

'I'll see you for lunch,' he said, 'here.'

Ana proved to have gentle hands as she soothed my welts, which were no more than superficial, anyway, with some magic lotion she had, and she seemed almost envious of me when she asked me if it had hurt, and I replied that it wasn't as bad as the butt-plug had been. That reminded her, and she said, 'Don't go away!' and disappeared, to return a few minutes later with a small box.

I was already lying naked on top of my bed, and now she asked me to spread my legs. Wheen I did so, she grasped the flange of my plug, and out it came, the suction making a cute 'plop.' We both laughed at that, then she showed me what she had brought in the box. It was a string of five silver balls, the size, I suppose, of ping-pong balls, with a silver ring at the end of the string. She had also brought with her a pink dildo, and was busily lubricating it while I looked at the balls, thinking there was no way I should be able to get those into my arsehole.

'Spread your cheeks for me,' Ana said, 'maybe it would be better if we put a pillow under you?' I shoved one under my stomach, and reached back, spreading my arse-cheeks, wincing slightly as one hand touched a crop-mark. I felt the lubricated tip of the dildo be inserted, at first very slowly and gently, into my anus, then its greater width following up, as it invaded me, penetrated my velvet tunnel, took away my last secret, virgin opening, passed my sphincter, causing me to squirm and moan as the agony and ecstasy merged. It was much longer than the plug had been, more like a real prick, and I felt for the first time what anal sex really might mean to me.

'Oh, Ana, please,' I groaned.

'Do you want me to stop?' she asked, 'it's nearly in full length!'

'Oh no, please carry on!'

She gave another thrust, and I pulled her bodily around, while she still had a hand on the end of the dildo, grabbed her hair, and kissed her, my tongue questing into her sweet mouth. I came, for the second time that morning, a hot, onrushing orgasm, which swept through me like a tropical storm, and I soaked the sheets of my bed.

'Wow, Abigail,' said Ana, 'I know what the Master saw in you, I really do.'

She had removed the dildo when I had cum, and I now sat on the edge of the ruined bed, and watched in the mirror while she was on her knees in front of me, feeding the impossibly huge balls into my surprisingly commodious anus. It was true to say that they filled me, and I felt very uncomfortable at first, when I walked about with the balls in place, the ring dangling lewdly out of my arsehole, but with corsets, tight skirts, plugs, high heels and clamps, I was becoming well accustomed to discomfort, even beginning to welcome it as a part of my new life – there was something intensely erotic about suffering for sexual ends and this permanent type of discomfort was a constant reminder of more acute pains which would surely follow.

Dressed in a short cotton print sundress and, of course, high heels, I lunched with my Master, who asked solicitously after my wounds, and was a perfect gentleman. As we took coffee, he said, 'Would you care to come to my bed for the afternoon siesta, my dear?'

'Oh, yes please, Master,' I replied.

He treated me like a young lover, tenderly stroking my body, kissing first my mouth, then teasing my nipples to their easy erectness, then licking his way down to my mons, and running his tongue the length of my crack, opening me gently with delicate fingers, thn allowing me to guide his stiff, rampant prick slowly into my waiting cunt. I used my vaginal muscles to alternately grip and release his shaft, as he kneaded my breasts, and I wrapped my long legs around him, pulling him deeper within me as his strokes became more urgent. I whispered to him as he plunged ever harder within me that I wanted him to cum deep within me, and to emphasise my point, I rammed my forefinger deep into his arsehole. He came then, in a great gush, which filled me, not only with his sperm, but with happiness. He withdrew, and worked my clit the very short time necessary for me to have yet another climax. I was fast losing count of the number of times I had cum, and, with that thought, I slept, in my Master's arms.

I awoke to find my Master looking at me tenderly, running a finger lightly over one of the welts on my back. I wondered if he was going to apologise for whipping me, but he just said, 'Come on, it's time to get up, sleepy!' and, as I slid out from between his black satin sheets, he gave a playful tug at the ring dangling from my arsehole. I felt one silver ball pop out, and presented my rear to him, so that he could poke it back in.

'That's nice,' he said, 'you should be able to take me there by tomorrow, I think. Now we'll go and get some exercise, then dress for dinner.'

He took me to yet another corner of the house I hadn't seen and showed me his gymnasium, and we worked out, side-by-side, both of us naked, for an hour, then took a leisurely swim in the indoor pool. I felt refreshed when it was time to dress for dinner.

Left alone, I pottered around in my walk-in wardrobe, deciding on the very sexiest thing I could wear – my Master deserved nothing but the best. I had worn lace the night before, so I decided that silk would be in order, and found a beautiful, long, white, flowing halter-neck gown in soft silk, completely backless, so that my prettily-striped back would be obvious, and the loose top would allow my unfettered breasts to jiggle around nicely as I walked. Apart from a waist-chain and my collar, I wore nothing else, brushed my hair out to a rich sheen, stepped into customary stilettos and was ready for anything. I got a surprise when I arrived in the dining room. My Master hadn't told me that we weren't dining alone, and the gorgeous Jane was stood, sherry glass in hand, also wearing a backless dress, though hers was black, and short, with a flared skirt. Her gross husband, Marcus, was talking to my Master and another man, taller than either of them, all dressed in tuxedos, Marcus smoking a cigar. But it was the woman stood with Jane who commanded my attention. She was of – probably – east Indian extraction, her hair longer and, if anything, blacker than mine, her face a thing of sculpted beauty, her body slim and magnificent, with long, long legs. She wore a black dress, with alternate diagonal stripes of opaque material transparency, beneath which I could see she had on a pair of tiny white lace panties, tied at their sides by huge white ribbons. The effect was startling, and my eyes travelled to her full breasts, naked under the excuse for a dress, one dark, almost black, aureola with a prominent nipple jutting out through a transparent stripe. I thought her the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen, and knew I wanted to fuck her, desperately. But I was also aware that slave-girls were not supposed to have their own desires.

Bruno was at my shoulder. 'Hello, my dear, you look ravishing tonight. And I see you have noticed Trina; she is very beautiful, isn't she?' I risked a glance, and he was smiling sardonically as he said this – he knew somehow what had been going through my mind. He introduced me to her, and I went slightly weak at the knees as I took her languidly-offered hand, its long, slender fingers tipped by long, long, blue-polished nails, and decorated with many rings, then he presented me to the man he described as her 'escort,' – a strange term, I thought – the tall guy I had seen earlier, a young stud by the name of Jason.

When the time came to eat, I found that a sheet had been placed over two chairs at one side of the table, and one at the other. The other chairs were uncovered, as usual. Bruno directed me to the covered chaair in the centre at the far side, whilst he took the uncovered one opposite, flanked by the two women, whilst I had Marcus and Jason either side of me.

'Remove the sheets, ladies, please, then we can all it down,' he said.

I whisked the sheet away, and saw that it was a special chair, with a huge, slightly curved, realistic-looking dildo firmly set into its seat.

'I'm afraid you'll have to raise your skirts, and remove any underwear you may be wearing,' said Bruno, and looked pointedly at Trina, who seemed to be the only one wearing panties, but who looked not at all embarrassed when all eyes turned to her as she flipped the bows on the little white silk numbers she wore, then let them fall.

We moved around our seats, and, at least in the case of the three women, manoeuvred ourselves carefully into position before sliding down gently, accompanied by some sighing, onto our seats. I couldn't see how we could eat like this, and caught my Master's cynical smile – he was, of course, aware that I had both holes well filled!

'I hope the ladies enjoy the little extra entertainment I have provided to go with the meal,' he said, 'you'll find a little button on the right arm of your chair, which will give you a rather interesting dinnertime, and afterwards, we shall have further diversion.'

I pressed the button he mentioned, and the dildo that I had worked up into my cunt started to vibrate – not the normal, buzzing kind, but a longer, throbbing beat, setting my juices moving instantly. Glancing at Jane and the lovely Trina, I saw from their faces that they were experiencing the same sensation, and then I became aware that my Master was watching me intently, and felt his foot touch mine under the table, in a silent incitement to cum for him. I abandoned myself to the sheer hedonistic joy of being fucked by a stiff, inhuman object, and allowed my pussy to rule me. I came, squirting copiously, as ever, though nobody could see more than my closed eyes, and hear my shuddering little moan.

'My slave cums a great deal,' said Bruno, to all and sundry, 'she's a multiplier!'

Everyone seemed to think that was a good reason for a laugh, though I noticed that Trina didn't really join in – then dinner was served.

I turned off the vibrator, and sat enjoying my food, still acutely conscious of the invader in my pussy – if I moved slightly, I had to relax my cunt-muscles to accommodate it – but I got lost in a bit of a day-dream. What's a nice girl like you doing, I thought, without a deal of originality.............I had been back-packing around aimlessly, almost ready to go back to an equally aimless life in England, probably marry a chartered accountant or something, then – wham! Here I was, cumming half a dozen times a day, being whipped and enjoying it, about to lose my anal virginity and looking forward to it – and, on top of that, wanting another woman more than I could remember wanting anyone in my life. Shit!

But Bruno broke into my reverie with an announcement: 'I trust you are all well fed. We should all now go to the library, where the evening's entertainment awaits!'

Grimacing with the other two women, I eased myself up from the chair. As we made our way to the library, I found myself beside Trina, who said quietly, 'That was once I didn't want to leave the table – it takes me a long time.'

I looked into her big brown eyes, and said, 'I'd love the chance to help you solve that problem.' There, I'd come right out with it – I really was a slut! – and she didn't look taken aback, so I knew then that somehow, I was going to get her in bed with me. I thrilled at the prospect.