Interviews in a BDSM Resort

Interviews in a BDSM Resort

Thank you for opening my story. I hope you enjoy it and think it worth giving a rating, and if possible, a comment. Like many contributors to this site, I find readers' reactions helpful in deciding what to write next, and what to include in my stories.

This is the third volume in the "Interviews" tetralogy, which was originally intended as a trilogy. It is not a serial. Each volume can be enjoyed on its own, so please don't be deterred if you have not read the first two. If you enjoy this one, you can go back to Interview with a Slavegirl and Interviews in a Slave Trader's Liar at your leisure. To those who have already read them, I am very grateful for your patience and persistence!

Chapter One - The Representative

"At some point in their lives, many dominants experience a kind of impostor syndrome. They look at their slaves, or the slaves they use, and imagine themselves in their places. They see them living a life with no worries about money, no responsibilities to clients or employers, no trying to understand complex laws and regulations, lots of good food and drink, unlimited medical attention with no waiting, and all the sex they can possibly want.

"Above all, they see slaves as having no choices to make. They do what's required of them, and they live happy, fulfilled lives. If they don't do what's required of them, they are whipped until they do. What could be simpler than that?"

The rep sat back, looking self-satisfied, almost challenging Sally to find fault with his argument. She hesitated, pretending to be distracted by the mouth under her skirt, lapping gently at her pussy. Slavegirl Shaba was kneeling between her legs, wrists locked behind her back. The rep, his trousers around his ankles, was receiving a similar service from Mina, while Millie was standing by to offer drinks, snacks and any further sexual services that might be called for. It was extravagant of Sally to deploy all her resources for a single interview, but she thought that much might come of it.

"It can't be quite as simple as that," she replied at last. "I can see the appeal of a place that offers a trial period in slavery. I expect that owners learn a lot about how their slaves really feel about their servitude. It must help them to get the best out of their property. Can't they get the same kind of experience from clubs, which give them what they want, when they want it, for a modest subscription?"

"Clubs are often recruiting systems. People join and think they can be part-master, part-slave, and end up being wholly the latter, or that's what they think will happen. We guarantee an experience that will last an agreed length of time, and then the client is freed, unharmed and uncompromised. It's like a cruise, or an all-inclusive holiday."

"Can the clients leave part-way through, if they're unhappy?"

"No. What distinguishes our offering is that it's 100% genuine. For the agreed time, the clients are slaves. They are not pretending to be slaves, and we are not pretending to enslave them. They are slaves. Then they are free again. We do discuss their requirements with them beforehand, and we have very few dissatisfied customers. Occasionally, one decides to volunteer herself, or himself, for permanent slavery. Then there's no guarantee that it their lives will resemble our offerings. We are, in a sense, selling holidays."

"Tell me more about what you offer."

"We hope we can accommodate almost any requirement. The simplest packages are for a week or a fortnight. The client is used as a sex-slave in a purpose-built apartment, by specially trained slaves that we call 'submasters' and 'submistresses,' who are also chained in their places. It's a very rich and intense experience, and to avoid misunderstandings the client is rendered dumb for the duration. We can also offer short or long stays in the pony stables, and almost any kind of labour slavery. You might be surprised to hear that anyone would volunteer to spend a fortnight digging ditches, toiling under the lash."

"Different strokes for different folks," replied Sally, for want of anything more original. "Are you happy with what Mina's doing for you?"

"Very, thank you. When I'm staying at the resort I'm often fellated by clients, and they can be very clumsy. This one's good enough to be classified as an oral slave."

"Yes, but I need her for other things too. Can a client be, say, a hucow for a week?"

"The hucow sheds are popular, but not for just a week. It takes time to get the milk flowing, and it's not worth it for so short a time. We offer stays of not less than three months. We keep a very few hucows of our own, and a handful of hu-bulls. They can cover ponygirls too. We aren't breeding pedigree animals, or breeding at all, for that matter."

"How can an estate be large enough to do all this, and still be completely secret from the general public?"

"It's on an island, and I'm sure you don't expect me to tell you where. It's very well fenced and has lots of sensors to detect and deter intruders, but our best defence is rumour. The place was a research laboratory during the Cold War. As far as the public's concerned, it's contaminated with nerve gasses and other deadly chemicals. The only bridge has a very private and concealed entrance, so no-one is ever seen coming or going. We use a lot of the military buildings. They are perfectly harmless."

At this point, while Sally thought about her next question, he stroked Mina's head; the signal that he wanted to cum in the near future. The bobbing head increased its speed and the depth of its movements, and the lips gripped his shaft more tightly. Seeing that, Sally patted Shaba's head, and breathed more deeply as her tongue touched her clitoris. Before she could ask him anything, the rep spoke again.

"Our service is popular, mainly with wealthy clients," he went on. "Usually, we have about two-thirds occupancy in the high season, and about fifty in winter. We do have a lot of indoor facilities, even for the human ponies. We'd like to increase that, and we think that some discreet internet coverage on the most private subscription websites would help to do that."

"So you'd like to engage my services as an influencer?" asked Sally. "Will you let me visit the resort?"

"We'll do more than that. We'll give you a complimentary week in one of our apartments; the full enslavement experience. And you can come a couple of days early to sample the rest of our facilities. We'll see to your transport, there and back. Obviously, we need to see what you film and write about us. That isn't to censor your opinions; if you think we're rubbish you can say so. It's to make sure that you don't inadvertently give anything away."

Sally was surprised to be made so generous an offer, but the thought of being a slave for a week was daunting. Did it mean that she'd be whipped? "Do I get to discuss my requirements in advance?" she asked, trying not to sound too doubtful.

"Of course." He was breathing very heavily now, as his orgasm was not far off. "You'll be treated like any other client."

There was a break, then, as he spurted his seed into Mina's mouth and throat, and she worked to suck out and swallow every last drop. Sally also came, clutching Shaba's head against her groin and trying not to shout out loud, as her guest was making virtually no sound at all.

Finally he spoke again. "Let me give you a bit of advice. Keep your requirements to an absolute minimum. We don't allow scat anyway, or really sadistic torture, or anything that leaves permanent marks. But the point is, that there's no point in being a slave if you're going to be made to do exactly what you'd have done anyway. Our sub-slaves are very good at detecting our clients' boundaries and pushing them just a little bit further. It's best to trust them to do their jobs."

"Is this offer good for a specific time. Are you offering me a last-minute cancellation? It's late spring now, you must be almost booked up."

"We'll try to fit you in when it's convenient for you. But we do have a vacancy for a week starting a fortnight on Friday. If you join us on Wednesday, you'll have plenty of time to look around first. Do be aware that you won't be allowed to wander around free. You can go where you want, but you'll always be escorted and controlled."

Sally decided not to ask what "controlled" meant, exactly. The dates suited her very well, and it was inconceivable that the journalist in her would refuse the offer. The rep left her with the promise that more information would follow almost immediately. She found herself feeling very nervous in the hours that followed, often hugging her slaves for reassurance. They seemed very dubious about her decision, but perhaps that had something to do with the fact that they would be left at the disposal of James, their official owner and her employer. He had eccentric ideas about master-slave relationships, which tended to involve whippings inflicted at random.

Chapter Two - The Laboratory

Whenever Sally felt worried or stressed, she looked around her laboratory and counted her blessings. It was a large space in an old warehouse. One quarter was occupied by a metal-framed four poster with built in chains. Another housed a comfortable suite that included two large sofas, with anchor points hidden under the upholstery. The remaining half was more utilitarian, housing all manner of BDSM equipment, including some items that were not designed to produce sexual pleasure, such as a rack.

The cost was offset by sales, for Sally's employer imported and supplied bondage furniture and equipment, and her experiments were videoed and used for advertising. It was a valuable side-hustle, but most of the costs were covered by research grants. James had secured a princely sum to underwrite a project that he had entitled Mammalian Responses to Variable Stimuli during the Breeding Process. It was easy to assume that it was something to do with farm animals. Somewhere, someone was working on that, but it was not Sally's field.

Few people were able to delve deeper into James' sub-agendas and trace all the funding that financed them. Sally's own project was so secret that it did not have an official title, but it might have been Bondage as a Stimulus in Human Sexual Behaviour. By "bondage," however, neither James nor Sally meant occasional games played by couples with furry handcuffs. They meant ropes, armbinders, manacles, chains and padlocks, supplemented by gags, blindfolds, and any other devices that human ingenuity had produced.

Sally's laboratory occupied the southern end of an old and restored warehouse, and there were no windows at ground level. The middle third was still used as a warehouse, and the northern end had been converted to make a new home for James, who had previously lived nearly a mile away. The cellar was continuous from one end to the other, and he had provided a very simple electric tramway to transport both the free residents and the slaves between his residence and the laboratory. That avoided any exposure to the elements, and also to the labour-slaves who worked in the warehouse.

Sally had only one slave who was available for her use almost all the time. Millie had been obtained from a trader who had donated half her value as his contribution to her research. She was in her thirties but looked much younger, and was a second-hand pleasure slave of exceptional abilities. She was also talkative, witty and not a little cheeky, which her previous owners had tolerated but had helped to motivate the trader to avoid including her in one of his auctions.

Her first and only owner had been a syndicate, and although with Sally it was love at first sight, she had mixed feelings about being donated to the laboratory as an experimental animal. Not understanding what the project was about, she took it to be the end of her career as a pleasure slave. Sally had tried to reassure her by letting her use her skills on visitors, and she often spent the nights with her. They were well-matched for height, so she was exceptionally good in a "69", even when spread out in a rigid "X", as she often was in Sally's bed.

Sally used the "X" position a lot with the other two slaves, when she had them at their disposal. She had instruments that measured the intensity and length of orgasms, and a friend had provided her with algorithms to arrive at a total score for a series of either single or multiple climaxes. Her method was to tie one of them down rigidly, always using similar lengths of chain for the same slave, and ensuring that both, when underneath, were equally taut. For the experiments she used a board that had very thin, firm padding, so there was no need to allow slack for the pressure of another body.

The upper slave was then chained in the "69" position, but very loosely, both for security and to ensure that she could not reach the other's breasts or vulva with her hands. The pair were then left for an hour, and the instruments measured the orgasmic scores of both women. She always left them to finish an orgasm that was in progress at the end, but was still to decide whether to credit all the points that were added, as would be the case, for instance, in a game of rugby that exceeded the regulation eighty minutes.

The experiment was dependent on the slaves' cooperation, and although she could whip them if they failed to use their best efforts, she never touched them during the hour. She alternated them on top and underneath, and repeated the procedure every time she had them both to use, but she knew that measuring orgasms was not an exact science. Nor could she always ensure that the conditions were the same, or that the slaves were equally horny on every occasion. Her only solution was to do it over and over again- at least ten times in each position- in the hope that the average readings would give her an accurate picture.

The aim was, of course, to compare the orgasmic experience of tightly bound slaves with that of those whose restraints were minimal and purely functional. She was hoping to try many other positions, preferable with different slaves, and was willing to experiment on herself. She was still in the preliminary stages, but she was already sure that she could demonstrate a definite improvement resulting from bondage. Her first experiment would be complete by the time she took a break for her own experience, about which she felt increasingly excited.

She was also experimenting on Millie, as well as using her as her bedwarmer. She had a fucking machine that could be used in several positions, and she was letting it drive the slave to one orgasm, and then whipping her breasts lightly as she enjoyed the second, third and fourth climaxes. She had some "control" readings taken without using the lash, and now she was finding an improvement in intensity, but not in length. She had called in a friend of James, her employer, to build a whipping machine, with the intention of getting much more consistent and reliable results, but it would not be delivered until after her break.

Ultimately, Sally needed men, and therein lay a difficulty, as James was obsessively straight and disliked having male slaves on the premises. Her best hope was to find an alternative source; well-wishers who would lend her males for reasonable periods of time. She was doing her best to cultivate contacts who might be persuaded that it would be in their best interests to contribute to her research. So far, she had enjoyed only limited success.

Sally worked hard to complete her first experiments before her departure. Millie was experiencing a problem with sore breasts, so her bottom had to be used instead, and then the soles of her feet. That meant that there would be no presentable results until after her break, but the experiment would be much more complex, and the outcomes more useful. She was also doing some work towards other lines of enquiry, but without means of measuring the results. She was masturbating Millie in very different positions; hogtied, frogtied, in pillories, stocks, etc., and hanging upside down. It was light relief, but potentially valuable.

The first communication from the resort came only three days after she had seen the rep. the package included some pills and capsules, with instructions and an assurance that they had no known side-effects, were not addictive and included no narcotics. There was no detailed explanation of what they were, but Sally went ahead and took them. She was not told where the resort was, but was given an estimate of the journey time; nine hours. That told her she was going to Scotland, and probably to the isles, unless her transport was going to use a circuitous route to mislead her.

The second message was an email, two days before she was due to be collected, and gave her a time and a means of identifying the vehicle. It would be the tried and trusted motorhome with frosted windows, and she was advised to spend most of the journey sleeping in the fixed bed. She was allowed to take a few changes of indoor clothing; anything else would be provided. All toiletries- even toothbrushes- would be provided, and they seemed to know that she did not need prescription or proprietary medicines.

She spent the last two days before departure in her laboratory, never leaving even to see James. On the final morning Shabah and Mina were already with him, and she packed Millie off in the basement tramway to join them. She would probably appreciate a more restful week, despite the possibility of extra whippings. She had spent the past fortnight having sex, eating and sleeping, and the monotony was probably affecting the results from the instruments.

Chapter Three - Arrival

The journey would have been boring, but Sally was suffering from sleep debt and appreciated the chance to catch up. If the motorhome used a ferry she missed it, and she was surprised at how lush and green everything was. She wondered whether they were in Devon, Cornwall, or on the Isle of Wight, but doubted whether it would be possible to "hide" a substantial estate in those popular destinations. Then she remembered the landscapes in The Wicker Man, and returned to a Scottish Island as her best guess.

She was met by a very welcoming, friendly and handsome woman who was obviously free, and dressed in a blouse and a short skirt. She led Sally straight from the garage through a series of corridors- all carpeted with original works of art on the walls- to her guest apartment. They met no-one else, and the accommodation was luxurious, with a four-poster bed, thick carpets, a three-piece suite and another sofa, and en suite facilities that included a huge walk-in shower.

"You'll be attended throughout your stay in this suite," said her escort, who had not introduced herself. The door will be locked, but your slave will be able to call for it to be opened. She will just have to show that your wrists are locked or tied behind your back. You are free to roam the common areas of the resort, and to speak to any of the slaves or residents who have voices, but out of this room, you will always be restrained. I trust you understand the need for these precautions."

Sally didn't really understand, but did not intend to make difficulties for her hosts. "That's quite all right," she replied, "but am I allowed to take pictures or recordings?"

"Your assigned slave will do that for you, according to your instructions. We will check the footage before you take your recorder away. Your slave is called Mitha, although you can call her anything you like. She's general purpose, but you'll find her good at almost everything. She has a strengthened tongue: a little bird told us that you liked that. She will serve you your meals here. We don't have a communal dining room for the guests. Mitha is also cleared to administer injections and other simple medical treatments. Here she is now, so I'll leave you in her capable hands."

Mitha was pretty in a "girl next doorish" way, with a round, smiling face, big blue eyes and a full-lipped and wide mouth. Her bobbed hair was dark brown, and her body was depilated. She was quite a fleshy girl but not actually overweight, and her breasts were generous but not huge, with prominent nipples but pale, undefined areolas. Her labia were pale, and even for a white girl her skin was a very uniform colour all over her body. She was collared, and her wrists were cuffed and lightly chained about fourteen inches apart. Although she wore ankle-irons they were not connected.

The girl stood in front of Sally and knelt, holding out her wrists. It was Sally's understanding that she was entitled to bind the girl more strictly, but if she wanted to leave the room she would have to release her and be restrained in turn. It seemed an odd arrangement, and for the time being she simply pulled her back to her feet and introduced herself. "I'd like something to eat; something light, like an omelette, and then I'd like a shower, Mitha."

A cheese omelette appeared almost like magic, with Mitha simply speaking the order in a clear voice, and admitting the serving-wench who came with a tray a few minutes later. There was also some wine and fruit juice, and for the time being Sally stuck with the latter. There was a little bowl of pellets for Mithra, but she explained that she had only recently been fed. She did speak while Sally was eating.

"Mistress, I've been told to answer all your questions, and to point out things that you might find interesting. I hope, mistress, that if I talk too much you will tell me, and likewise if I don't talk enough. I'm usually a very quiet girl, mistress. That's why they chose me."

"How does that make sense?" asked Sally "They send a quiet girl to act as my guide?"

"Mistress, there are slaves here who like to chatter. I think the managers thought that, given extra encouragement, they'd be so garrulous that you wouldn't get a moment's peace, mistress."

"Probably a good decision. You seem quite capable of communicating. I think I'm ready for a shower now. I presume you're going to help me with that?"

"Of course, mistress. I'd be whipped if I left you to shower alone. Does mistress need the toilet, and would mistress like an enema?"

"Does anyone actually like enemas? I think I'd better have one, even though I only need to pee. My hair needs washing. The motorhome was rather warm and it feels lank."

Mitha ran her hands through Sally's hair, being careful to keep the chain clear of her face. "Mistress has very fine hair that reacts to humidity. We'll soon having it looking good as new."

She was right about that, and Sally, who usually washed and showered herself, found the whole experience very erotic. The hot water warmed up Mitha's wrist chain, and the feeling of it dangling and rolling over her breasts and nipples was definitely arousing. A couple of tentative kisses followed, and afterwards they went straight from the en suite to the bed.

Considering the nature of the establishment, the rules about bondage in the privacy of the suite seemed very lack. Normally Sally would have made Mitha step through her chain and locked her wrists behind her back, but she left them as they were. The only handicap was that to hold Sally's body properly, the slave had to loop the chain over her head. She seemed quite sex-starved, so they rolled around the bed together with Sally providing most of the leverage. Mitha kissed her hungrily and gripped her breasts, and then pushed herself down to deliver cunnilingus. Her tongue was, indeed, very strong, forcing its way into her vaginal tunnel like a hot, wet, and very flexible penis.

With Mitha's mouth on her clitoris, Sally came over and over again, but she won Mitha's undying loyalty by doing at least as much for her, using both fingers and mouth on her vulva. The slavegirl particularly liked having a finger in her bottom with a thumb in her vagina, with the two pressed together through the wall of tissue between. Meanwhile Sally licked her clitoris, and the result was both explosive and long-lasting. They followed half an hour of unbridled lust with another of deep kissing and breast massaging. Sally remained rational enough to understand that she had been dosed with libido-enhancing drugs of a type that gave her the impression of being madly in love with the last person with whom she had copulated.

So long as she kept her emotions in check, there would be lots of pleasure and no problems, except that time was passing. Finally she murmured to Mitha: "Aren't you supposed to be showing me around?"

"There should be plenty of time tomorrow, mistress, but if mistress wants a short outing before bedtime, I could take mistress down to the kennels. My masters and mistresses offer a service to owners and keepers who need somewhere safe to leave their stock, either while they go abroad, or until the next auction, mistress."

Sally agreed, and was told that there was no need to dress. She just needed to pee if she wanted, and then to present her hands for restraining. "Would mistress prefer steel, leather, rubber or rope?" asked Mitha.

Confused by the unexpected choice, Sally asked what she recommended.

"For a short outing, mistress, I think rope would be nice. I have some that's quite soft and pleasant to the touch, but it's still very strong and secure. I'm trained to use it, mistress, so I can guarantee that you won't get loose and find yourself in trouble."

"Then go ahead. It's always wise to take the chef's recommendation."

Chapter Four - The Kennels

To Sally's surprise, Mitha bound her wrists back-to-back instead of crossing them. She used as many as six windings, neatly laid alongside one another, and then another two to cinch them, leaving the knots out of reach of questing fingers. It was done very quickly, and was obviously the result of long training and practice. Sally then moved towards the door, but Mitha stopped her, holding another, longer piece of rope. With that she tied her arms above her elbows, drawing them together. They were not actually touching, but had a couple of inches of carefully wound rope between them.

The entire process took no more than six or seven minutes, and Mitha seemed used to doing it with her chained wrists. She also derived evident satisfaction from a job well done. "That was a very good choice, mistress, if mistress doesn't mind me saying so. Doubtless any choice that mistress made would have been good, but you must be noticing, mistress, how your arms push your chest forward, and display your breasts. Everyone we meet will want to play with them, mistress. It's such a pity that free women usually keep them covered."

"You think that I should go around naked to the waist, Mitha?"

"I wouldn't presume to comment on you personally, mistress, although you have a beautiful chest. I think, mistress, that there could be a scheme applying solely to free women. Surely, it would increase her status and reputation, if a mistress's mammaries were declared an area of outstanding natural beauty. She would then be obliged to keep them on view, except during inclement weather, and to allow some degree of manual exploration. She'd receive a small grant to pay for the cost of keeping them in good condition, mistress."

"Every word of that's going into my interview with the staff here," replied Sally. She had an almost eidetic memory for conversations. "Now, perhaps, we'd better get moving."

She half expected Mitha to put her on a lead, but she just opened the door and left Sally to follow her, feeling unbalanced without her arms. The walk that followed was not challenging, however, as there were very few steps, with elevators whenever they needed to go up or down. It was mostly down, for the kennels were in the second basement, much of which was converted from old mines and natural caverns. Mitha took the opportunities offered by the lifts to steal kisses or suck Sally's nipples. They did pass three or four people, all slaves, and they all curtseyed or bowed to Sally, despite her nakedness and bondage.

The kennels were built into several large spaces- probably old mine workings- deep underground, and there were more people about, two of them free supervisors who introduced themselves but then left Sally and Mitha alone. There were half a dozen slaves moving about freely- the property of the resort- and they all bowed or curtseyed, but left Mitha to act as the guide. Sally deduced that she worked there from time to time.

The main part of the facility comprised two rows of cells with perspex fronts, so the residents were all clearly visible to the staff patrolling between them. They were a uniform twelve feet square, and were furnished with a simple shelf-type bed, a reasonably comfortable chair, a washbowl, and a toilet positioned so that the user was always side-on to the perspex wall, which incorporated a door with multiple locks. The sparse upholstery had waterproof covers, and there were no voids underneath the furniture in which the client could hide or shelter.

The only variation between the rooms was in the type of exercise equipment provided. Some had treadmills, some exercise bikes, and some rowing machines. A surprising number were in use, and Sally asked Mitha what motivated the slaves to make the effort.

"On entering here, their muscles are all very precisely measured for bulk and strength, mistress," she answered. "The results are expressed as one hundred percent. The owner will have told the slave the number of lashes that will be given for every percentage point lost. The guests are moved between rooms, so they all get access to the full range of equipment."

Sally could see that every cell was a wet room. The residents were cleaned by spraying the whole space with warm water with cleaning agents included, and then with a pure water rinse. It was warm enough to let them dry naturally. They all wore collars and cuffs, but were restrained only by a single chain from an ankle to a staple in the floor. They could reach a hatch in the perspex front, and standing close- encouraged with a cattle-prod if necessary- their wrists could be padlocked, and the chain released by remote control. Thus it was easy to move them between cells.

Every cell had a television in one wall, protected by a waterproof housing, and a music system. They were the sole means of entertainment, but if the residents were impeccably cooperative and obedient, a bound slave of the same or the opposite sex- they could choose- would be introduced into the room and left for a couple of hours; a different slave every day. It might be another kennelled slave, or a guest-slave from another part of the resort.

Two of the spaces were occupied by couples who were copulating vigorously on the shelf-beds, which were barely wide enough for two. Another pair were doing it sitting in the chair; both males with the bound one on top, facing away so that he looked straight at the watchers. A bound male was standing behind a female resident, buggering her as she bent double over the toilet, propping herself up with her hands on the rim. "I suspect the staff here give them more sex than their strict entitlement," said Mitha quietly. "It keeps them docile and easier to manage."

Half the cells were empty; more than could be accounted for by the pairings, so Sally asked about the occupancy rate. It was a costly facility to maintain if it was not fully utilized.

"I think there's only one vacancy at the moment, mistress," replied Mitha. Some of the owners offset some of the cost by authorizing us to use their slaves for experiments. I was intending to show you a couple of those. We ask for complete confidentiality, mistress, but my owners think that there's some room for cooperation between their research and yours, mistress. If you'll be kind enough to come through here, mistress. There'll be a few people present, as it's a common room for the slaves who work in the kennels."

Passing through a pair of locked doors, both of which responded to Mitha's fingerprints- they entered a large space, roughly divided into a cafeteria, a lounge, a workspace with desks, and an area for bondage displays and experiments. About a dozen slaves were either eating or relaxing, and Sally could see three who were being served by other slaves; a male who was being fellated on a sofa, a female eating with a woman between her legs, and another snogging an older female who was in a very strict hogtie, both lying on a couch.

"Any of our slaves who've served down here for more than six months can use the guest-slaves during their free time, unless the owners have specified chastity. The others get a ration decided by the overseer-slaves."

It was clear now to Sally that the resort had a hierarchy of slaves. Perhaps that was inevitable in so large an establishment which was run by so few free personnel, but she was not used to it. James insisted that all slaves had equal status, which was to say that they had no status at all. He had described to Sally establishments in which the menials who shovelled the compost had occasional turns with the finest pleasure slaves, even though for the latter it meant a lot of scrubbing afterwards. Because of her own calling, however, she was mainly interested in the experimental and display area.

The current exhibit was a pair of crucifixes, on each of which was mounted a female slave. Both were locked by their cuffs to rings in the woodwork, Their ankles were together and also locked to the uprights, but they did not have anything to stand on. The ankle-irons were well-fitting enough, with bevelled edges, to take most of their weight without causing injury or much discomfort. Both women wore panel-gags with breather holes, so it was difficult to tell from their faces or voices what they were feeling.

The obvious indication was their movements. They were mounted with their legs slightly bent, but by straightening them they could achieve a standing position, with very little weight on their arms. Gravity, however, would cause them to lean forward, and although they could resist with their shoulder and arm muscles, tiredness eventually forced them to give up and bend their legs again. They then hung from their wrists, and for reasons about which Sally was never completely clear, they would begin to have trouble breathing.

The two women were thus condemned to keep cycling through positions, none of which were comfortable for any length of time. The constant struggling was fascinating for spectators, but unless it was meant as a severe punishment, slaves were rarely crucified for more than an hour or two. Sally was surprised to be told by Mitha that the two who were on show had already been on their crosses for three hours, but there was much more to the display than met the eye.

One of the two women was a "control" experiment. The other was experiencing the effects of an after-market accessory; a long vibrator-cum-dildo that was attached by a bracket between her legs to the wooden upright. It was not very conspicuous, for at the moment the dildo was very deep in her pussy as she was hanging by her wrists in the lowest possible position. When she began to push herself up, and then to sink down again, she was effectively fucking herself.

The device had a peculiar property that Mitha was eager to show to Sally, and which necessitated an examination at close quarters. With any commercially available vibrator, the woman would have been able to lift herself off using the full range of movement available to her. This one, modified on site, was telescopic, although with a very weak spring so that it would never push hard into her. As she rose it lengthened, so although she could feel the ridges that gave it friction and texture, it would always remain in her vaginal tunnel. Her chains, and the bracket, had to be adjusted carefully, so that it could move up and down without coming clear of her opening.

"This took a lot more designing than you might think, mistress. Believe it or not, I devised the spring mechanism. If you'd be so kind, mistress, we can look at the results in this laptop."

It was conveniently positioned on a small table nearby, although Sally hesitated long enough to watch the woman beginning an orgasm. Her whole body was trembling and she was doing her utmost to haul herself higher, using her arms muscles as well as her legs. It was not at all clear whether she was finding the sensations so intense that she was trying to escape them, or whether she was gaining extra height in order to drop herself hard onto her impalement.

It appeared to be the latter, when Sally transferred her attention to the laptop, on which a graph showed a short but massive spike in the woman's pleasure as she descended. The rest of her chart looked like a range of mountains, especially as it often dipped below the neutral level to indicate that she was experiencing more pain than pleasure.

The "control" woman's chart showed mostly mild pain, with occasional dips into something more severe. There were a very few moments of mild pleasure; one of them when Sally and Mitha were looking closely at her. She was excited, presumably, by being on display, especially to two other desirable women, one of them in bondage.

According to Mitha, after a couple of days' rest the two women would exchange roles. Then there would be other additions, including vibrating nipple clamps and anal stimulators, and it would then be possible to compare the pain and pleasure experienced in a wide range of conditions, all in the context of a single system of exacting restraints. Mitha seemed vague about the uses of the resulting mass of data, and about what contribution it would make to Sally's research, or vice versa. That would have to be pursued at a later date.

After spending another half-hour watching the crucified women and the readings on the laptop, the pair returned to Sally's suite, with Mitha ordering wine and snacks for bedtime. Sally was surprised to be left in bondage while the slave washed their faces and cleaned their teeth. There were straws with which to drink the wine, although they only needed one. Mitha gave Sally a little lecture on the customs of the resort.

"Mistress, now that we're back in your room, it's up to you to decide when I should untie you. From that point, however, you should not use me for sex until you have chained me for the night, in whatever manner you choose. I thought, mistress, that it would be less trouble for you if I left you tied a little longer than absolutely necessary."

"That was very considerate, Mitha," replied Sally, with more than a trace of sarcasm. "Are you sure you're on the right side of the slave/mistress divide?"

"Mistress, I speak the King's English, but I was born in Eastern Europe, and brought up by an uncle after my parents died in a civil war. He sold me into slavery on my eighteenth birthday, mistress. I've hardly known anything else. You're not the first to say something like that, mistress. The one before last complained to the management, and I was whipped, mistress."

"I'm not thinking along those lines; yet." Sally shook her shoulders. Untie me now, and bring me a padlock."

Mitha was even quicker undoing the knots than she was tying them, so the reversal took no more than two or three minutes, and when Sally saw the rope marks on her arms she felt an irresistible desire to ravish the slave immediately, which she did. "Do you mean that I can hang you upside-down for the night?" she asked afterwards.

"Yes, mistress, but mistress might like to remember that I need to be fit to show her around tomorrow. Perhaps mistress would like me to chew her clitoris?"

"Did someone tell you I'm a masochist? Lick it gently, and keep your teeth to yourself."

With the help of a few more orgasms and a couple of glasses of wine, they slept the sleep of the just despite Sally's long nap in the motorhome. A serving-wench brought them breakfast, and as Mitha's wrists were still fixed behind her back, Sally fed her, and masturbated her by hand before taking her to the en suite. She had decided to play the role of bath-slave, and quite enjoyed it, but afterwards she had to submit to bondage again, this time with steel cuffs.

Chapter Five - Animal Farm

Even though the morning was quite chilly, Sally was glad of a breath of fresh air. Mitha assured her that there was an underground route for use in winter. Their first stop was the stables, where most of the ponies were guests of the resort, although because of the physical demands of the role, most had volunteered for stays of a month or more. Because they were in essence a leisure facility, the stables were spotlessly clean, with no smells even from the straw, which was all fresh and sterilized. The ponies were all assigned stalls with basic wooden benches and pallet beds, and there were stable hands to scrub them clean every day.

At night the ponies were paired by an algorithm that provided a different partner every time, and in the daytime the mares were often covered by the stallions, always with one or the other in strict bondage. Usually the mare was bent over a bench that resembled a vaulting horse, and penetrated from behind, vaginally or anally. Two matings were going on when Sally and Mitha entered the stables, and two more had begun by the time they went outside to watch ponies being exercised.

Sally was as interested in the surroundings as the activities, still hoping to spot clues that would help her to locate the complex. Mitha noticed. "Everybody wants to know, mistress, where we are. I don't know myself, and I don't care. Why do they all care?"

They watched ponies being walked, trotted and galloped in circles, and exercised on the spot, being made to raise their knees higher and higher with every step. Mitha explained the benefits of every routine, in terms of fitness, discipline and aesthetics, and Sally tried to remember it all, hoping that she wasn't going to spend half the day watching dressage. After a few minutes, however, Mitha declared that it was time to head out for a picnic lunch.

Just in front of the stable doors, a stable hand had brought a two-wheeled, two-seat buggy, with a single ponyboy locked between the poles. In a storage space behind the seat was a large hamper, a blanket, and a couple of very simple homespun garments that could be worn if the weather was not warm enough for driving nude. Mitha put one on Sally, donned another herself, and when they were seated, she spread the blanket over their knees and legs. The pony, presumably, would rely on exercise to keep him warm. At that time, Sally did not get a good look at him, but could see that he was white, young and quite muscular.

Mitha cracked the whip, and used the reins to steer the outfit away from the stables and the house, which Sally could now see was a dull grey Victorian building. It was not very large; most of the complex was either underground, in outbuildings, or in the hillside behind. She only had a minute to take in the scene. Mitha drove quickly, using the whip lightly but freely on the pony's flanks as she steered the buggy into and along a sunken track that was probably a dried-up stream bed. There was no-one else about, and she kept the pony at a brisk trot for a good twenty minutes, until they emerged into more open countryside and began a long but gentle ascent. As the speed dropped she plied the whip with more vigour, leaving his buttocks and thighs glowing red, but he was still managing a brisk walk when they reached the top, coming to rest among a jumble of massive rocks and outcrops.

The views were magnificent. Sally could see over the whole island and its neighbours, although she was no closer to being able to guess where they were. There was enough sun and shelter for Mitha to strip them both and to lay the food out on a flat stone surface, leaving the blanket for them to sit or lie on. For the pony there was a funnel gag to replace his bit, so when she had unhitched him she was able to leave him to munch on a handful of pellets, while she fed Sally little pies, tiny sandwiches and vol au vents. There were also some salads, including delicious cherry tomatoes. Mitha shared the picnic; apparently pellets were for her an occasional treat.

While they ate, Mitha told Sally about the pony. "He's a special case," she explained. "He's on permanent loan to the resort, on the condition that he's kept in very strict conditions and used as an experimental animal, mistress"

"Why is that, Mitha?"

"He's a rescue from somewhere in Eastern Europe, mistress. His profession was stealing pension money from old-age pensioners, using a variety of methods. You've probably had people calling you from 'the bank security department;' he was one of those. The locals are better at catching them than you might think, and most disappear into lithium mines or similar facilities. One of our people spotted him, and thought him handsome and strong enough to make a good pony, so he was brought here. He understands English, by the way, but his voice has been permanently disabled, so he'll never speak again. Take a look at his penis, mistress."

Sally had, naturally, glanced in that direction before, but had seen only a chastity cage, without him being still enough or close enough for her to take in the details. Now Mitha ordered him to come close and kneel in front of the mistress, and he shuffled forward, legs apart and still munching his pellets. There was a valve in the gag panel next to the pipe from the funnel, and Mitha used it to squeeze some water into his mouth from a specially-designed bottle. Meanwhile, Sally gave his tackle a full manual examination.

His penis was indeed enclosed in a cage, but it was an unusual one. He was confined to the bottom part, which was long and thick enough for him to come partly erect, with his flesh protruding from the openings that also enabled him to urinate and be washed with a showerhead. Above that, another two inches of metal tube was shaped like the head of a penis, but it was textured with bumps- like rounded rivet-heads- to offer extra sensation when in a vagina or asshole. It was a curious hybrid between a cock-cage and a dildo, and she reckoned that about fifty percent of the skin of his penis was exposed by the gaps in the metalwork.

Sally stroked the lower part, ensuring that her fingers contacted the cock-meat within, while she examined the method of attachment. She was surprised to see that the ring at the base passed through a piercing in the flesh at the root of his penis, and that the ring around his scrotum had a central post that went right through the middle. They were big piercings, and the device had no visible locking mechanism, and so she had to conclude that it was permanent. The ponyboy would never enjoy a full erection, but she could not tell whether or not he could ejaculate, in which case all his orgasms would be partly spoilt.

Mitha seemed to read her mind, and put aside the water bottle to remove his gag. "He can cum in his cage, mistress," she told her, "but it's never very satisfactory for him. His in the middle of a conversion process. The idea is that, eventually, he'll be able to have oral and anal orgasms. Then his regulator can be used to make him fully impotent."

She had the gag off by then, and he was sucking her fingers as if to demonstrate that useful progress had been made. She remembered that he could understand what was being said, so he knew the fate that awaited him. Mitha had a remote control for him, and she used it to cause his penis to swell and bulge through the gaps. Sally stroked him, enjoying the contrast between the feel of his flesh and that of the metal, which seemed to be stainless steel.

"Kiss me, Mitha, while I do this," she said, and the two women snogged hungrily while the ponyboy sucked the fingers and tried to push up against Sally's hand. Nothing he could do was likely to make much difference, and his arms were held behind him securely in a square binder.

After a few minutes Mitha broke off the kiss briefly. "You can see that his breasts are beginning to swell a little," she said, pulling at the skin and the nipples with her spare hand. It had not been noticeable because of the binder's straps, but he was just beginning to grow breasts.

"Why don't they just do a proper sex-change?" asked Sally. "It would be quicker, and more thorough."

"They're aiming for something more ambivalent; something non-binary, mistress," replied Mitha. They think that, in the future, it won't be enough to have just males and females. Would you like to try the hybrid cock, mistress?"

Sally would, so they laid him out on an area of soft- if rather damp- grass, and after helping her to mount the flesh-filled dildo, Mitha straddled his mouth, facing her. They resumed their kissing while the slavegirl ground herself down onto his face, and Sally rode gently up and down. She made sure that she moved the full length of the penis, ensuring that she was stroking the flesh as well as the metal.

The ponyboy was a quite exceptional fuck. The studs in the metal tip were perfectly judged to give extra sensation without scratching or abrading the vaginal wall. Below them, the steel cage with the bulges of flesh gave him a distinctive shape, to which she could feel herself conforming whenever she paused for a moment. She fancied that she could feel the difference between him and the metalwork, but knew that she might be extrapolating from what she knew to be there. She and Mitha kissed as much as they could, with the latter's hands holding her breasts to help her to balance. She had never before had upright sex with her wrists locked behind her back.

Sally had, since entering James' employment, taken medicaments to enhance her sexual responses, and the pills sent by the resort had added to their effect. She fancied she could feel the semen oozing out of the sides of the cage as he came, twisting and struggling vainly as he did so. Then she and Mitha had simultaneous orgasms, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe with his face deep in the latter's soft slit. Both carried on longer, and finally changed places, and the ponyboy was stiff and sore when he was finally allowed up off the ground.

"If mistress has questions to ask me, she had better do so during the next three hours or so," said Mitha. "Before dinnertime, mistress will begin to lose her voice."

Sally knew then that she had been treated surreptitiously, but she knew that, during her planned week as a pretend-slavegirl, she would be dumb. Faced with that deadline she could think of nothing to ask, so she was surprisingly quiet as Mitha packed up, hitched the ponyboy, and drove back to the complex by a different route. She did ask whether he was earmarked for some special purpose.

"Not really, mistress, but it's always useful to have a pony who can pull a carriage all over the island and satisfy both male and female drivers and passengers, without talking and pretending to be anything but an animal, mistress. '

"Given his prospects, he seems very cooperative," replied Sally. "What would happen to him if he were less so? The mines?"

"No, mistress. If he can't do what we require of him, he'd be no good for mining, either. There are various roles available that don't demand much from the slave. Craftsman whipmakers need them to test and balance their products. Galley slavery does not require many social skills, mistress, but it's hard work in confined spaces, always under the lash. He knows, mistress, that he's better off with us. These things are relative, mistress."

Sally was thinking, that if her acquaintance with Mitha had been longer, she would have told her to say "mistress" less often. They were back at the stables in no time, for most of the route was on a slight downward incline. The pony was showing signs of fatigue from running so fast, but Mitha made no move to have him unhitched. They watched briefly for a short time while a hu-mare was literally dragged protesting to the mating horse.

She seemed to have various complaints; that there had been no honey on her morning oats, that she had been driven until she could barely stand, that she needed more painkilling ointment on her whipmarks, and that she was not being assigned to the stallion that she liked best. The stable hands' patience was soon exhausted, and she was bound in position and gagged with filthy, urine-soaked rags. She was then covered by their choice of hu-stallion, but for luck they brought in three more, none of them the one that she wanted.

"It never makes sense to let animals talk," remarked Mitha. "It gives them ideas above their stations, mistress."

"I presume she's a paying guest? How long has she been here?"

"Less than a week, mistress, but the awful truth is that she's signed up for three months. I think her husband must have given her a choice of that or a divorce. If she goes on like this, we'll all be wishing that we had a knacker's yard. She'll probably end up as a carthorse or plough-beast, serving the tenant farmer. Otherwise she'll poison the atmosphere in the stables."

The hu-mare was not the most attractive woman that Sally had ever seen, and despite the gag she made enough noise to put off the stallion, who had to be whipped to apply himself properly. Mitha then applied her own to their ponyboy's thigh, and he started with a jerk that almost tipped Sally from her seat. Mitha grabbed her arm and they drove quickly to the hucow shed, which was no more than a hundred yards away. They dismounted but left their rig hitched and ready, and wandered into a rather different environment.

Hucows had, of course, to be in milk when they arrived at the complex, although those signed up for the multi-role experience could be given the necessary drugs while serving as ponygirls. The shed was very clean and smelt fresh; almost disinfected, and the hucows all lived in their own stalls. The design was ingenious, There was a bar across each, about four feet high, with three rings spaced to hold a collar and the cuffs on outstretched arms. The chains attached to them worked on inertia reels set under the floor, so with only a little effort the beasts could move around their spaces, using the toilet, the washbowl, the chair and the bed.

The hucows had televisions with access to a library of films, many of them pornographic, and they were visited frequently, not by other hucows but by stallions, servant-slaves from the house, or one of the three specially-kept hu-bulls who were very large, very well-hung and very virile. Female slaves also visited from time to time, and occasionally, double-teaming was allowed. Feeding was done twice a day, with specially formulated gruels and pellets that enhanced the quality and quantity of the milk.

The hucows were milked three times a day, in rotation to ensure that they could be watched by the handful of staff on duty. Other guests- Sally on this occasion- were welcome to watch the process. Motorized winches wound in the chains until the hucow was right against the bar, usually kneeling, but it was permissible to stand and bend at the waist. The effect resembled a pillory, and when she was in place, suckers were attached to her breasts. The milking usually took about fifteen minutes, but they were left in place for up to half an hour.

The process could be uncomfortable, and Sally noticed that the hucows who were undergoing the process while she watched were shaking their breasts irritably, although they were not uttering any complaints. Mitha told her that malcontents got reduced access to sex, and sometimes even less appetizing food. Ultimately, the whip could be used to deal with serious problems, but as the hucows regularly got mild canings or whippings to stimulate their milk production, that was a last resort.

The cowshed differed from most in that many of the women were only moderately busty. They still produced as much milk as most nursing mothers, but in the world of BDSM much could be done to increase both breast size and the proportion of tissue that was productive. Some of those treatments were given to the guests who served as ponies for at least a month beforehand, and the shed also housed four proper hucow slaves with very large, pendulant mammaries.

There were no giant-breasted, immobile milkers, however, as they required too much maintenance. The hucows could all walk, if very slowly, and in summer they were sometimes unchained in ones and twos and allowed out, with their hands cuffed and their ankles hobbled, to graze on raspberry bushes, strawberry plants, sugar snap peas and other crops that were grown in raised beds where they could easily be reached.

Sally managed to interview two of the hucows; one of the guests and one of the slaves. The former, after her first two weeks of a four-month holiday, was blissfully happy. A lovely blonde woman in her early thirties, she was by profession a business systems analyst, but had amassed enough savings to take a six-month sabbatical. "This is heaven," she told Sally. "In my job, I think all day about really boring things, but I have to think fast and hard because it's very competitive. I worry that one big mistake will ruin my career.

"Then there's constant sexual harassment. I love sex, but I have to keep choosing, and then stick to my choices even if they're the wrong ones. If I was as promiscuous as I'd like to be, it would reflect on my business reputation. Here I get fucked by more men and women than I can count, and I don't have to choose between them. I get all the food I can eat, and I have no decisions to make. I have to produce milk, but I don't have to worry about it. The machine does it all."

"Don't you get whipped and caned, to improve your production?" asked Sally. She was just beginning to experience some difficulty in forming words and speaking them clearly, but it was not a serious handicap at that point.

"Sometimes I feel a little guilty about having it so easy, and letting my partners do all my work," replied the guest hucow. "The pain purges me of that guilt, and I feel at peace afterwards. I've never had a punishment whipping, and I don't want that. I'm totally obedient and cooperative, and I do my very best to please everyone who uses me for sex. That's my formula for being a happy hucow. Accept everything and everyone. Never complain, and never, never resist."

Clearly the woman was a slave-keeper's dream. She was happy and easy to manage, and it was easy to imagine her deciding to opt for permanent servitude. The other interviewee was already in that condition. She was only in her mid-twenties, but her breasts were large and growing, and she produced nearly three times as much milk as any of the guests. She was the only one of the enslaved hucows who could still speak, and so was self-selecting. As Sally was now struggling to pronounce words clearly, she settled for asking her how she had come to be a hucow, and how she felt about it.

The woman seemed to understand that the question had been abbreviated. "If mistress means to ask me how I became a slave, I was on my way to prison, and some women I'd offended were waiting for me there. You'll find that's a common story, mistress, and I'm sure you don't want to know my chequered past as a free woman. When I was assessed and given preliminary training as a sex-slave, everyone wanted to suck my tits, mistress, and they started oozing liquid without any treatments.

"A VIP, who I can't name, bought me for his household, and for two years I served at table, and the diners milked me straight into their tea and coffee. Some used me for their breakfast cereal, but that took longer, mistress, and the milk tended to spray around and get on their clothes. I also served my owner's guests in bed, mistress, and they often sucked me then.

"There were some things at which I wasn't very good, mistress. I don't really like being with men, mistress, and I was terrible at sucking cock. There were too many complaints, and my master didn't want to whip me, so he sent me to auction. This place bought me as a hucow, mistress. They usually direct the men towards the other hucows, mistress, so I'm more content here. Food, females, and fucking. Those are the three 'Fs' that keep me happy, mistress."

Sally felt that there was something that needed to be probed more deeply, but she no longer had any confidence in her speaking voice. She just nodded her thanks and submitted to Mitha's decision to lead her away. In a way she was relieved to be gone and on her way back to her room. As the afternoon sun had raised the temperature, Mitha had seen no need to cover their bodies for the ride back, and Sally found it strange to be interviewing slaves with her own arms locked behind her back and her body on display.

Back in her quarters, Mitha stood facing her, looped her chained wrists over her head, and pulled her in for a long, sensuous French kiss. Sally cooperated fully. The slavegirl's tongue, pushing into her mouth and wrestling with her own, always excited her, and she knew they would be parting soon. She had expected to have her arms freed, but that did not seem to be part of the plan now. Mitha took her to pee, and then to bed, and the kissing resumed, with hands roving over her breasts, and then fingers worming their way into her slit.

Sally climaxed with Mitha lying half-way down her body, the fingers of one hand fluttering over her clitoris while the forefinger of the other poked its way into her bottom. She was then guided from one orgasm to the next for nearly half an hour, and she realized that, without her hands being locked behind her, Mitha would have found it impossible to control her bucking and twisting body. The slavegirl then pushed her down to deliver cunnilingus, but confined herself to a single orgasm before pulling her up, facing her, and delivering one of her little lectures.

"Mistress, you must be wondering why you're still restrained. You can't talk at all now, and I wouldn't advise you to try. Some people find it a bit frightening at first, but you know that you'll have your voice back within a fortnight, at least, and that should make you less anxious.

"Mistress, my keepers think that, with no voice, you cannot reliably use me as your pleasure slave. As you have no means of giving me clear instructions, I would be likely to incur punishments through no fault of my own. That would not trouble me, mistress, for I'm only a slave, but my masters and mistresses are very fair. This is a wonderful place to be a slavegirl, mistress.

"It's been decided, mistress, that I'll keep you bound from this point on, while we have our dinner and spend the evening and night together. I'll do my best to make it pleasant for you. Then in the morning I'll feed you your breakfast, say goodbye and hand you over to the handlers from the submasters' pits, mistress. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful week. Please don't try to answer, mistress. It'll take you a few hours to become accustomed to your condition. It's best if we snog until the girl comes with our dinner, mistress."

She rolled over to face Sally, and their lips joined again. Although Sally's head was full of questions, she accepted that it was better to leave them unasked. Like a pet dog, she would now have to give up thinking about the future, and simply take what came to her. At least, he would enjoy the next few hours.

Afterword

If you have enjoyed this story, dear reader, please keep an eye open for the final part of this tetralogy. Interviews in Bondage will be published in a very few weeks.. Thank you for your patience: this volume turned out to be much longer than I anticipated.

DB, April 2025