Tales from a Far Country Ch. 04-25

"But Gaspazha Alana. Gaspazha Neena, may I ask a question?"

"Of course," responds Alana.

"If you wanted someone to give you sexual service, surely there are ever so many nice girls who could do that? If you needed help with your baby, there must be people who have training and qualifications in child care. They would have much more expertise than me, wouldn't they? If you wanted help with catering, or a hostess to help at a dinner party, there are companies who do just that. If you wanted the results of my research, you could have left me alone to complete it, in England and in due course my thesis would have appeared in the University library, available to any academic who wished to read it?" I pause and look from Alana to Neena. It's clear that they don't see where I'm going. "So why did you have to take me?"

Alana's earlier look of shock and disapproval disappears at once. Both women laugh in unison, as if I have made the most incomprehensibly stupid remark.

I stand before them, crest-fallen, feeling ridiculous and as usual, completely defeated. What did I think? That they might even say, "Goodness Vyerochkaa, how right you are! Look, here are air tickets to take you home ..."

Instead Alana replies, "Vyerochka! You are so naive!" She looks at Neena who shrugs her shoulders and then continues. "First, yes you are quite right. There is a range of professionals who could do all the things we have you do. Better, possibly. Less trouble, possibly. With more qualifications and training in the areas other than the academic, certainly."

At least she acknowledges my academic expertise, I think.

"Second, that's actually not the point. The point is that it's the owning and training of people that we enjoy. Selecting just who will be suitable. Stalking them. The hunt. The capture. The great pleasure from watching as they struggle to come to terms with what has happened to them and then watching them struggle again with adapting to the new opportunities we have given them. Not that they have any choice, because disobedience, or laziness, or recalcitrance will always be punished with the cane or the whip or the birch. And then we have the fun of modifying our slaves: their behaviour; their bodies." She nods to my bald head. "And of course, I can whip you or birch you at any time I choose, just because I can and you have to take it and thank me. You cannot imagine what a satisfactory, a delicious feeling that is.

She pauses. Actually she is wrong. I can imagine it, because I know what it feels like to receive it. But of course, she knows that too.

Alana continues: "Also, Papa always tries to makes sure the slave's new life is better and more fulfilling than their old life -- and he makes sure they are carefully looked after, so if you are ever sold, you can at least expect us to keep our eye carefully on you, to make sure you are looked after properly. Finally, you enjoy it! You have admitted to us just now. You enjoy it!"

She is right - at least I think that is what my feelings are telling me. This exotic, exhausting, demanding, erotically satisfying existence

Neena takes up the theme. "In a world where unemployment and poverty are constant companions; where women are betrayed or abandoned by unfaithful men; where so many people are worn down by dull unrewarding occupations; remember just how fortunate you are. You were sought out. Brought across a continent. You live with wealthy attractive people. Having your innermost sexual fantasies fulfilled. Guarded and cared for. Slavery is not a burden. It's a gift, a privilege."

How do I respond to this? It ought to make me angry. The presumption. The arrogance. And how do they know that the new life they have given me will be better than the life I was leading before? Once upon a time I would have been able to answer them, but now it's different, somehow. To the two of them I merely smile, look down, and say, "I'm sorry. Thank you for all the time and effort you have spent on me!"

Alana comes forward and gives me a hug. It feels nice but deep inside my mind -- perhaps my soul -- I remember the little girl hiding under her parent's bed, safe from the people chasing her. She tucks a downie around her and lays still, watching, listening for the moment when she can find her way to safely. But does she still have the will to run, if the opportunity should ever come?

PRIVATE GIRL TALK

Alana gathers up some things she needs from the house. I'm not sure if the purpose of the journey was to show me this place or if there was some other reason but of course, it doesn't matter to me, does it? It's just what they decided to do. We return to the car. Once more, Neena is going to drive with Alana beside her and me in the back.

Before we set off Neena hands me a discipline helmet. It's dark; dark brown leather, soft, waxy and strong. It smells wonderful. Just the touch and the smell of it start to arouse me.

"Put this on Vyerka. It's time for you to quiet down for the ride home."

Well I'm not usually talkative these days and up to now, Neena has been quite keen for me to see my new environment, to underline to me how far from home I am. Still, it's not my place to reason why, so instead, I meekly obey. I also notice she has called me 'Vyerka' so its time to remind me of my proper place once more.

The helmet feels cool. It slips easily over my head, my cheeks and my jaw, closing softly around my neck. Someone - Neena I suppose - comes up behind me and folds a gusset over the back of my scalp and pulls a zipper closed from the crown to the nape. As she does so I feel pads press against my ears. The sounds around me all but disappear. I can see light through some pinhole eye openings, but this hood is double layered. The unseen hand brings a second zipper up from beneath my chin, over my face, and across the crown of my head. The light disappears. The zipper continues back down to my neck. A lock of some kind, I imagine, is passed through the zipper tags. I feel it snap shut. A final strap encircles my neck and is fastened off with the snap of a second lock.

I take my hand and pass it over my face and head. It is smooth and featureless. I have been reduced from a human being to an object, all in two minutes. I could still speak, I suppose but does an object like me speak?

My hands are guided back down into my lap and cuffed. The seat belt is passed across me. The car starts -- I can feel the vibration from the engine, but only just. We depart. We're returning to the Dacha, I suppose. Or are we going somewhere else? I have no way of knowing and I cannot even hear the murmur of traffic of any spoken words properly. I am alone in my sweet, leathery prison, close to others but also in solitary confinement.

"Now we can have some private girl talk, you and I!"

"Can we drive to the clinic first? Just so I know where it is. When the time comes?

"Of course: your Mama asked me to make quite sure I could take you, if I had to. In fact she told me to make sure I knew exactly, so for a moment I felt a bit like Vyera must feel when we give her instructions!"

So, how's she made out, Mamma and Papa's new toy"?

"Vyera? I have really enjoyed her. I like her a lot. You know some of them accept their slavery but somehow, there's no real spark in them. I suppose it's probably how they were, before they got taken. Anyway, Vyera has been different. She has been brilliant fun to train! At the beginning she absolutely refused to accept where she was, so to convince her, I just let her walk out into the garden."

"In the snow?"

"In the snow and wind. The temperature was minus ten to start with and the wind chill must have brought the temperature way down. Lev found her stumbling along one of the paths, boldly marching on to England."

"Neena, you are priceless! So was she more convinced after that?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"The thing was, she thought we were some sort of criminal gang holding her in the 'home counties'.(1) When I called her 'rabinya' she says, 'Hah! Now I know you are all frauds because that's the wrong word. The real word for slave is sluzhanka!' And then there was the time when we started her on the research work and as soon as my back was turned, she fired off this email to just about everyone she could think of asking then to turn up and rescue her."

"It did not transmit, did it?"

"No, of course not. I had blocked outgoing emails so the only place it went was to all the other computers at the Dacha. I thought she might get up to something like this so I let her get on with her work all day and then printed the email; You should have seen her face when I showed it to her and asked her what it was!"

"What was her bum like the next day Neena?"

"An absolute picture! In fact it was exactly the turn of events I had hoped for and I thought, yes, this girl is real quality. You know there are some of them you just think 'why on earth did we go to all the trouble of lifting you?' and you're tempted to just cut losses and pack 'em off straight back to where they came from? Well, Vyera here is definitely 'a cut above' as the Brits say. Definitely top notch."

"And of course you've been indulging your sexual tastes?"

"Certainly have! I have had her service me in the evenings. Then in the mornings I've given her to Andrei so he can give her a good fucking. We have been giving her MSH to darken her skin and you know the side effect is to make people horny as hell? Well, she was going around fingering herself so your Mama had her belted to keep her mind on her work, in a sort of a way."

"Mamma! Mind on her work? Vyera must have been seething with frustration after that".

"Seething just did not do the situation justice. Anyway, I though this was about the right time to teach her that a slave's body is for the use of its betters."

"So she took to it?"

"Definitely did. And gave the domestics a very good time too. I gave Vyera to them as a reward for hard work."

"Neena! You can be quite dreadful. So overall do you think she has accepted her new role. I mean is she locked in to it and stable?"

"Er ... well ... in some areas definitely. With the sexual submission and the physical discipline, she is completely there, but in other ways I'm not one hundred percent sure. Example. Just before the party, she was laying out the drinks and I caught her staring at the bottle of whisky in a wistful sort of way. When I asked her what was the matter, it turned out that this particular whisky was the last birthday present she had given her husband, so I think if he walked into the Dacha tomorrow, she would be off like a shot, collared or not".

"Time is a great healer?"

"So they say. I thought your Mama was good with her afterwards, when she spoke to her about leaving family. I think there are some occasions and some people where being tender and understanding is more effective than just being tough all the time."

"What about the other one?"

"Pavea?"

"The American."

"That's Pavea. Well, she is absolutely awfu! She could have walked straight out of some American TV movie. She is so brash and abrasive. Really hard work."

"Then why did Papa acquire her?"

"I don't know all the details but the gist of it is that your Papa must have owed someone a favour and this same someone was in a business relationship with Pavea'a papa who (unfortunately for Pavea) was not too good at paying his debts on time and so it was decided that she would be taken in lieu."

"Ah ... that is not the sort of thing my Papa gets involved with?"

"No: not normally. So now we have this girl -- her real name is Tracy Randolf as she will tell you at very great length if she gets the chance -- who has not a submissive bone in her body and I am trying very hard to break her and its not going well."

"I would have thought she would succumb to your charms, Neena?"

"Well she began by giving me a black eye -- which I birched her for -- but she is still very aggressive and insolent. Americans always seem to need an enemy and a combative situation seems to bring out the best in them."

"Meaning?"

"Well, first they had to settle an hostile virgin country, then they fought the British, then it was the Indians, then it was bad guys in the Wild West, then the Germans and the Japanese came along and finally -- us. Also, their world view: 'the best days are always ahead'."

"Yes but there must be plenty of submissive Americans, surely?"

"I am sure there are. The trouble is that Pavea is not one of them. I can't remember how many times she has told me how much she looks forward to testifying against me at my trial (which will be in Texas, by the way) and how many years I will spend in jail. Also, Igor Mendeleyev thought it might be a good idea for Vyera to be involved in Pavea's training. It has not been one of his best ideas!"

"Changing the subject back to Andrei, I haven't seen him around?"

"No, he's been on leave but he is back tomorrow."

"Aha. And will ...."

""Should do. She normally goes running, then does a gym session with him -- and then has a session riding on his prick."

"Hmmm. I guess Andrei rather likes that?"

"Seems to."

"Neena! I have just had this delicious idea for a trick we can play on Andrei ......".

A MYSTERIOUS INTERVENTION

The car has stopped. I hear Neena and Alana leave the car, and leave me. I just have to wait for their next requirements.

I heard them chatting to each other on the journey, but I could not make out what they were saying. The hood was tight and warm. Even though it was so close fitting, there was still plenty of air to breath and every breath smelled intoxicatingly of leather.

A hand touches my shoulder, to tell me someone is there. I feel someone unlock my seat belt and then gently guide me out of the car. A lead is fastened to my collar and I am led into a building.

I'm pretty sure it's the Dacha. We turn to the left as we enter -- so this will be the basement corridor where my cell is -- and finally enter one of the other rooms. I have no clue about which one, because the hood completely blinds me and the only smell I am conscious of is leather.

The lead stops pulling. My hands are un-cuffed. Someone tugs at my jeans and my T shirt. I respond by stripping them off -- they were only borrowed anyway.

Were they bought for me, or am I merely wearing someone else's clothes when I go out? After all, a slave has no possessions. That's rather nice in its way. No possessions. No worries.

In a moment I am naked again. Once this would have embarrassed me, but after Inward Bound and especially after all the months here, I prefer nakedness. Someone is in front of me. I feel them hold the waist band of the chastity belt they have me wear. Pressure. A key is engaged -- and the belt is unlocked, then removed.

There's a hand on my shoulder. It guides me to a couch. I lay down. It's cold and hard. This must be the medical room. Just what are they going to do with me? Or is this just another mind fuck? Hands guide my feet into gynae stirrups. My labia and clit are wiped and dried. It would be a nice sensation except for the feeling of anxiety rapidly growing in me as I am then cuffed to the couch.

Something else -- warmish and wet is left on my vulva. Then silence. Nothing. Apparently, they have left me alone.

"How long do we leave her"?

"I would give it about twenty minutes".

"Are you going to inject?"

"Yes: I do not want her to realize what I am doing, and I have to prevent her from feeling the injection. The injectable anaesthetic is long acting and will keep our secrets until all is revealed in the morning, to the dismay of Andrei and Vyera when she gets unlocked!"

"So what was the solution you made up and put on the swab?"

"That was pure cocaine in distilled water. It's the 'original' local anaesthetic and it's extremely effective. The trick is to be patient and give it time to 'take' -- after which I will follow it up with marcaine -- that's the long acting material". (2)

"Any risk of damage?"

"I don't think so ..."

There are people back in the room. I can just hear them moving around. There are hands on me, but I feel really numb. I can feel pressure and feel I am being "interfered with" but that's it. What ever they are doing to me takes several minutes and seems to involve some delicate work of some kind.

OH! I hope they aren't circumcising me or anything like that? Then suddenly, they are finished and I feel them re-installing my CB, so it can't have been very drastic, what ever it was?

My hood is stripped off. The light in the room is over powering. I have to screw up my eyes until they adjust. Finally, I can take in my surroundings. I have been in the "Medical Room". What have they done to me? Even inside the belt, all I can feel is numbness.

"Gaspazha Neena?"

"Yes, rabinya Vyerka?"

"Can you tell me what you have ...."

"No! You will find out in due course."

"Am I damaged?"

"Damaged? Why would I want to damage you? Look Vyerka, are you asking for another caning? You should know by now that you have a significant value to us, so why would we damage you?"

"I'm sorry ...."

"You see Alana, this is typical of this slave. Too much imagination. It's not good for her."

"Yes, Neena, and not enough trust in her Owners, I would say. I think a caning might help. Or what about a birching? Has she had one of those yet?"

"Ah, now that's an idea! No, I have not birched her yet. Rabinya! That will be something for you to look forward to. I am sure Gaspazha Alana would enjoy teaching you about the birch, but perhaps this is not quite the best time"

Neena nods her head towards Alana's tummy and Alana giggles. I am saved for the moment but I do not suppose she will forget ...

Neena leans towards me and drops her voice, as if she was imparting a confidence.

"Well, I think rabinya will just have to see how the story unfolds and yes, Alana, I think you are right. She does need a caning. Perhaps tomorrow? Vyerka: go to the kitchen and get something to eat, then back to your cell and go to bed. I will lock you in as soon as you get back. You have twenty minutes before your collar starts to shock you!"

With that I scuttle off to the kitchen. I've been told to eat so I go in search of food. But it's not easy to think about food. I'm more concerned about what has been done to me under my chastity belt.

CLOSED FOR REPAIRS

Morning comes. This time it's Andrei who appears, opening the door to collect me for my training session.

He has my running shoes and socks with him. I put them on and we head off outside. It's a wonderful, warm, fresh, clear, bright morning. The sort of day where its good to be alive. We spend several minutes walking, then break into a gentle jog and then run.

The air streaming past my naked body imparts a feeling of well being: that all is right with the world. This is one of the "challenges" that I have really enjoyed. To be able to run naked and not worry about what happens if you meet other people. I just don't know how I could reproduce it, were I ever to be transported back to the life I had before. We take up a fartlek session: run briskly, throttle back to run more slowly, then faster, then fast then walk then jog, then a brisk trot. We cruise the paths and tracks around the estate for about forty minutes before heading back to the gym. (3)