Stephanie and the Slavers

She had been here long enough to know the routine, had been through her oral and anal training, and had spent a mercifully short sojourn in one of the punishment cells to reinforce Theo's rules. However, she had only been staked out in the showroom three or four times before, and had obviously not become resigned to the treatment she was receiving from Theo's clients. To tell the truth, she looked absolutely terrified, and more so when the giant lumberjack started feeling her hair and fondling her compact little breasts. I know that you can't always judge a man's cock by the size of the rest of his body, but if it was a reasonably good match, he looked as though he could split her in half. I could see that she was struggling not to cry.

Paul Bunyan turned to Theo and said, "New?"

"Just arrived this month."

"Looks interesting. I think I'll try her out." He held out his hand for the key. "I like the little ones. They're so tight."

As she followed him down the hall, I could tell that her legs were shaking. Possibly it was from having been immobilized on the dildo pole for half an hour or so, but more likely it was pure terror. Poor Grace, I thought as I watched her little ass wiggle slightly as she disappeared down the corridor. At least my experience had gotten me somewhat used to slavery, even though it certainly didn't make me like it. Grace's brief experience of taking her clothes off from the safety of a stage had done nothing of the sort. I hoped Paul Bunyan would go easy on he, just tie her up and fuck her rather than getting creative.

I waited, shifting around slightly to make myself as comfortable -- or as little uncomfortable -- as possible, considering that I had s steel dildo shoved up my snatch. The third time, it was my turn. The guy walked slowly up and down the line, squeezing and prodding like the previous one. He stopped in front of me, helped himself to a good feel, and said, "Her."

He left the tape gag in place, but took off the other cuffs before we walked into Room Four and over to the bondage chair. It was a heavy but otherwise unremarkable high-backed wooden chair, except that it was bolted to the floor and covered with attachment points to which someone could clip cuffs, straps, and all manner of restraints. He positioned me in front of the chair, but said, "Wait a minute." He went to a shelf and got a large dildo made of what looked like rigid silicon, with a short threaded bolt sticking out of it. He brought it over to the chair, and I noticed for the first time a small threaded hole in the middle of the seat. Oh fuck, I thought. I just got a dildo out of my pussy, now I'm going to have to put up with another one.

Sure enough, he screwed the dildo in place on the seat, lubed it up, turned me around, and said "Sit." Man of few words, I thought as I lowered myself over the dildo. He held my lips open to help me let it slide in. It was positioned perfectly to hold me with my back touching the back of the chair.

Scorning all the elaborate cuffs and straps, he picked several long coils of rope from another shelf. He positioned my arms along the arms of the chair, cut a long piece of rope, doubled it over, and started neatly winding it up the chair arm and my arm, starting at the wrist. He paused to make sure each turn was snug but not a threat to circulation, letting no skin show between turns but never letting the rope cross over itself. He had a good eye for rope -- he had cut exactly enough to bring it up to my elbow and tie it off, with nothing wasted. He did the same for my other arm and then both legs, pinning them firmly to the front legs of the chair so that my thighs were held apart. Then he stood back to admire his handiwork.

It certainly is neat, and thorough, I thought. He's obviously not into Shibari or other forms of fancy Japanese rope bondage -- no intricate weaves or odd ritualized positions. Just good, thorough, confining Western-style restraint.

I remembered the advice that Jess has given me going in. "If a guy seems interested in visuals, try to struggle, protest through the gag -- give him a good show. The more you can keep him interested in looking at you, the longer he'll watch before moving on. You goal is to run out the clock before he decides to do something you'll like even less."

Sensible advice, I thought. I made some sustained "Mmmmpphh" noises behind the tape, and tested my restraints with some attempts to pull myself out of the chair. Totally futile, of course -- between the dildo and the coils of rope holding my elbows firmly to the arms of the chair, it was as if I was welded in place.

The performance had the desired effect. He pulled over another chair and just sat and watched my futile struggles with a little smile on his face. Unfortunately, my mmmpphh-ing had another less desirable side effect: it drew attention to the way I was gagged. He inspected the tape for a minute, and, evidently finding it not up to his artistic standards, peeled it off. I had a minute to get my breath and work my lips while he went to the nightstand and got a small cloth off the pile that sat there. He wadded it up and came toward my mouth with it.

I hate having anything shoved in my mouth; I would have much preferred to stick with the tape. Still, as I had told Theo earlier, almost anything was better than the filthy rag the slavers had favoured, so I obediently opened my mouth and let him wad it in. To hold it in place, he cut another short length of rope and wound it twice around my head and between my lips in a sort of cleave gag.

The two turns of rope would have been plenty to keep my mouth stuffed for the rest of our session, but he decided to continue to indulge his rope-wrapping fetish. He cut a longer piece, doubled it over, and started wrapping my face, starting just under my nose and ending at the point of my chin. He was as meticulous as ever. winding the rope in snug, neat coils. I knew that if I looked in a mirror, I would look as though I was peeking out over the rim of a woven basket.

He paused to admire again, and then cut more rope. Where the fuck is that going, I wondered, but I didn't have to wonder long. He wrapped my chest, crossing the strands between my breasts and including the back of the chair in the wrap. Before, I had at least been able to lean forward a few centimetres in the chair. Now, I was even more tightly welded to it.

With the last metre or so of rope, he wrapped the base of each breast, forcing them into an elongated point that protruded obscenely from my chest. I could feel them starting to engorge, and I knew that they would turn purple very soon. I trusted Theo not to let him wrap me tightly enough to cause any real damage, but I can't say I wasn't alarmed at the sight of my breasts starting to turn a nasty colour.

That seemed to be enough for him. He stood in front of me to admire the sight of a woman mostly reduced to a pile of neatly coiled rope, only a few bits of skin showing here and there. Then he started taking off his clothes. By the time he pulled off his underwear, his cock looked as though it had been at rigid attention for quite a while.

One of the interesting features of a chair tie -- an advantage or a disadvantage, depending on your point of view -- is that it makes it practically impossible to do much with any interesting body parts. Even if I hadn't been gagged, it would have required some gymnastics to get his cock very far in my mouth. My asshole was completely unavailable, and even though the front bits of my pussy-cleft were visible between my legs, he wouldn't have been able to penetrate it with a cock even if it hadn't already been occupied. He did play with my distended breasts, which were already beginning to lose feeling, and he reached down with a lubed finger and played with the clit and lips that showed around the dildo. He was able to get a slight rise out of my clit, but it was pretty much automatic. Under other circumstances, I might have found his ministrations erotic, but under these circumstances, I didn't find them arousing at all. Just annoying.

There was a big clock on the wall with two displays, a real-time display and a countdown clock to let clients know how much time they had left in their session. I glanced at it and saw with relief that he had used up all but fifteen minutes of his time wrapping me up. Maybe I would get away with just a little messing around.

No such luck. He backed up half a metre and began massaging his cock, first just gently playing with it and then pumping it with increasing ferocity. After five minutes or so, he grunted, shuddered, and sprayed me with cum from neck to waist. It made little sticky rivulets as it tricked slowly over the ropes to drip between my legs and onto the chair.

He gazed with satisfaction at the mess he had made, then took a clean cloth and wiped off the cum that still clung to the end of his penis, making no attempt to wipe me up. Then he looked back at me -- or rather, his rope job -- fondly one more time, put his clothes back on, and walked out.

I was to learn that this was pretty common procedure. It may have been terribly erotic to tie a woman up, but untying her afterwards seemed to be somewhat anticlimactic. More often than not, clients would just walk away and leave Theo or Jake to set the captive free.

Thank God, Jake didn't take more than a minute or two before, seeing on the cameras that the client was done, he walked into the room and picked up the sharp surgical scissors that were always lying ready. "Fuck, he really did a number on you, didn't he?"

He cut the rope around my face at one spot, unwound it, and helped me spit out the cloth. Then he unwrapped my breasts, which soon started to burn as the blood began to flow back into them. He cut away the rest of the ropes, tossing about half a kilometre of biohazard into a big garbage bin he had dragged over, trying not to touch the cum-soaked parts more than necessary. He didn't put them in the bin marked "wash-and-disinfect" -- I guess it wasn't worth Theo's time to recycle them, especially since Rob the Roper had cut them into lengths suitable for his project.

I inspected my arms and legs. The ropes had left a very symmetrical pattern of deep impressions all the way down them, but they looked like the kind that would massage out quickly -- no skin seemed to be broken. Jake wiped me off with a wet cloth, and then washed his hands at the sink. Then he came back and helped me stand up, levering out the dildo that had been invading me for the past hour and a half. It was a good thing he helped, as my legs were so shaky that I would have had real difficulty levering myself awkwardly off the dildo by myself.

Satisfied that nothing was damaged, Jake finished picking up the other discarded bits and pieces. The cuffs went into the wash-and-disinfect bin, the tape in the garbage. He left me alone to pick up my shoes and walk slowly and carefully barefoot back to quarters.

**

That evening we compared notes. Grace had fared not too badly. Paul's cock was indeed really big, and it hurt a lot, especially as he made no attempt to make it easy, but otherwise he had just tied her up and fucked her mouth and her pussy. I was glad to hear that he had kept out of her little asshole.

Some of the others hadn't fared as well. Tiffany, who had brought a couple of pillows to sit on while we chatted over snacks in the lounge, had been badly worked over with a flogger and paddle, and Althea, another relatively new recruit, had been suspended in a particularly painful position while her client reamed her asshole with a variety of objects and eventually his cock. I felt lucky for having had to put up with nothing worse than my rope-and-spray experience.

I hadn't slept well the night before, worrying about my upcoming first bondage experience at Theo's. That night, however, I made up he it with a deep and relatively restful sleep.

**

The next morning, I dressed and came to breakfast. I usually like to start the day with a shower so that I feel refreshed and ready to go, but I was quickly learning that it was better to wait until after your shift at work, since you were likely to come back covered with God knows what mixture of bodily fluids, both your own and the client's.

The days were quickly falling into a routine. After breakfast I worked out in the gym for at least the required hour, often more. I particularly enjoyed swimming in the little current pool. It was only about twice the length of my body, but pumps kept a current of water flowing against me, so it was if I was swimming infinitely long lengths. We hadn't been issued bathing suits, of course, but if I had ever felt self-conscious about my body, it had long since left me. In fact, many of the women worked out naked, unless they were doing something particularly bounce-producing, in which case they wore a sports bra.

After the gym, some time for Kegel exercises and some anal stretching. Lunch, then some free time to chat, watch a movie or two, read a book or a magazine. Dinner, then a shift in the entertainment suites. Shower, snack, spend a bit more time unwinding, then bed. I was already starting to feel a bit like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, living the same day over and over. The main thing that broke the monotony was speculating what that night's client would want to do to me.

The second night on shift, I was picked right off the top. It's hard to say what attracts a particular man to a particular slave. Some are tit men, others are ass men. Some like the full-bodied look, others like them small, compact and girlish-looking. Some of the regulars seemed to have favourites, and Theo usually tried to arrange things so that the client could get the one he especially wanted.

The guy who picked me was nothing particularly special to look at. Good-looking in a neutral way, with good features, a stubble beard, neatly trimmed brown hair. Casual dress. He seemed to be an ass fancier -- he went slowly along the line of women, squeezing cheeks, fingering cracks, sometimes even checking out assholes. When he chose me, it was obvious that he wasn't just looking for a big ass -- other women were more generous than I was -- but rather some kind of Goldilocks ass, not too big and not too small, but just right. All this attention to the derriere suggested that I might be in for some spanking, flogging, or other activities that would make sitting down unpleasant for a little while.

He walked me into Room Two and positioned me standing behind the bondage chair. My God, not that chair again, I thought, but I was relieved to see that there was no dildo screwed into the seat. He left the showroom cuffs om my wrists and ankles, and took advantage of some of the chair's many attachment points, clipping the cuffs on my wrists and ankles to places on the arms and legs of the chair, and adding another set of cuffs at my elbows so my arms were held firmly down to the arms of the chair. This meant that I was bent over the back of the chair, legs spread and breasts dangling.

Like the first guy, he thought he could improve on my simple tape gag. He peeled it off, wadded up a cloth and stuffed it into my mouth, making sure it was well inside so I could close my lips over it. He selected duct tape from the many types and colours of tape provided, and used a strip to secure the cloth. One strip would have done the job just fine, but he continued to wind it around and around my head so the entire lower part of my face was covered.

As I suspected, my ass was in for some abuse. He started with hard bare-hand spanking, then went on to a flogger, which he applied mercilessly. A flogger is supposed to sting a lot, but it isn't supposed to hurt badly; it certainly will, though, if you use it on the same spot over and over. Soon he was drawing muffled yelps of pain from behind the tape, none of them put on for show.

When he thought he had softened me up enough, he decided to move on. He selected a big anal hook with a ball on it the size of a golf ball, which he held in front of me as he licked and massaged it lasciviously. When he knew he had my attention, and more so, he put some lube on the ball -- spit is a really poor sexual lubricant, despite what you might have seen -- walked around behind me, and pressed the ball against my tight rosebud.

I tried to follow the relaxation exercises I had been taught, preventing my sphincter from clenching up and making the process hurt any more than it had to. I wasn't totally successful -- it did hurt as he forced it past my sphincter -- but once the ball was in, the rest of the hook slid in easily until the shaft was nestled in my asscrack.

Attached to the hook was about half a metre of rope ending in a big clamp with teeth covered in rubber. He wound a big handful of hair into a ball and held it with the clamp. Then he pulled the rope through a ratchet until it was tight. The hook was buried deeply in my ass, and my head, which had been hanging down while I coped with the pain of the flogger, was how cocked back at an uncomfortable angle.

He walked around in front of me again. I had no choice but to look at him, given that my head was pulled firmly back, as he slowly took off one piece of clothing, then another in a slow strip tease. When he finally pulled off his underwear, I could see why he was so interested in having me watch him undress. Starting at me with its single eye was the largest cock I had ever seen in my life.

I was starting to see why he liked to come to Theo's. It must have been hard for him to find many women who would voluntarily let him put that monster into any parts of their bodies. It was much larger than you would expect from the relatively average size of the rest of his body, and I wondered if he had finally found one of those "Add three inches to your cock in less than a month" products that actually did something. But no, it was likely just the way his genes happened to line up.

If he intended that cock to be intimidating as he held it in front of my face, it was certainly doing its job. I had to do some deep breathing exercises to try to quell my fear of what I knew would happen. The only saving grace in this situation, I thought, was that he wouldn't be able to shove it in my ass with the hook already taking up the space. I didn't look forward to having it put anywhere in my body, but at least my vagina would be more elastic than my anus, and better designed to fit a penis.

No such luck. He evidently felt that the hook had done its job in forcing me to watch his little strip show, so he unclamped my hair and pulled the hook out, none too gently. It hurt almost as much coming out as it had going in, but at least I could ease my aching neck.

He lubed us both up and then started using his fingers to open me up, inserting first one, then two, and finally three. Then he pressed his cock-head against my asshole and started pushing. I hoped that all the anal stretching Theo had me doing would serve me well.

He had to use a lot of force to get the head of his cock in, and when he did, my sphincter erupted into a white-hot circle of pain. I let out what would have been a blood-curdling shriek had not all the stuff in and over my mouth held it down to a muffled whimper. This is the point at which a considerate and consenting partner would have pulled back a little, let my sphincter get over its spasm, and then tried gently to gain a few more centimetres. Not this guy. He kept up his unrelenting pressure until he had managed to slide his entire length into me. I kept screaming behind the gag as he began thrusting, gently at first and then with increasing urgency, pulling his cock almost out and then plunging it in again. Every thrust multiplied the pain in my anus. Christ, I thought. What's he trying to do, make it come out my mouth?