Sally and her Mistresses Ch. 02

Sally and her Mistresses 02

Thank you for opening my story: I hope you enjoy it and feel able to rate it, and/or make a comment when you've finished. It is the second part of what will eventually be a full-length novel. Because of its length, the action intensifies slowly, and this section, like the first, might not seem to warrant the "non-con" classification. Please have patience; the third section will be much more diverse.

I am hoping that each part can be enjoyed individually. If you have read the first, you might prefer to skip the rest of this preface.

Sally Greenhall is a buxom and curvy woman in her very early twenties; a recent graduate who is taking, as an associate student, a module on The Literature of Alternative Feminisms. Maude, the tutor, befriends her and clearly has a sexual interest in her, but she is already in a settled lesbian relationship with Mikaela, who is an investment banker and extremely rich. Both women are dominant, and for their lives to be complete they need a submissive. They have agreed that, should they find a suitable candidate, they will have sex with her only if she is in bondage.

Sally is by nature submissive, and she readily agrees to spend a weekend at Maude's house, which turns out to be in the southern part of the English Lake District. There she is bound and seduced, and then stretched out on a bed to await Mikaela's return from work. She is ruthlessly exploited by the latter and then, after dinner, used by both her new mistresses. The first part of the novel ends with her being chained up for the night, alone in bed, with a screen showing porn for her to watch before she falls asleep.

Maude and Mikaela

The Boat House

Sally slept the sleep of the just for six hours. To her it seemed like five minutes, and she was rudely awakened by the slight figure of Mistress Mikaela- in a short nightdress- climbing onto the bed. As she struggled in her chains to turn onto her back, she was told peremptorily to wake up. "We don't feed you to have you sleep all day. I need to make an early start and I don't want to wake Maude up."

Now straddling Sally and facing her, she shuffled forward, lifted her nightie, and, taking the still bleary slave's head in her right hand, shoved it into her crotch. She worked her way forward until she was virtually kneeling on her face, moving up and down and back and forth by holding on to the bedhead. Sally, who could see nothing under the fabric, managed to work her lips into the opening, licking and sucking, thrusting her tongue deep into the slit. It was not wholly unlike her previous experience with Mikaela, but this time, from right above her, the juices tended to flow right into her mouth, forcing her to swallow from time to time.

It was also shorter; the woman had obviously woken up horny. It culminated in Mikaela bouncing on her face like a gymnast on a trampoline, mashing her pubes down on her lips, drawn closed to keep her teeth from hitting the tender flesh. She let go of the bedhead and propped herself up by reaching behind and taking handfuls of breast. For the last few seconds Sally couldn't breathe at all, and took great gulps of air as the weight lifted. The orgasm subsiding, Mikaela paused for a while without moving, then both her hands grabbed Sally's head and pulled her hard against her, wriggling as if to work her mouth further in. Then she pulled away and stepped off the bed.

"Well, duty calls. Have a nice day." With that she bent to kiss Sally briefly on the forehead, straightened the duvet and left, locking the door behind her.

Chest still heaving, Sally mewed with frustration. Mikaela had left her aroused but she had no means of getting release. She would have to wait for Maude, who would probably find her with swollen lips and bruised breasts. What time is it?, she thought. Looking at the window she realized that, in this room, the wooden shutters outside were closed. She contemplated making her way over to see if she could see a chink of light, but what did it matter? Whatever the time was, she just had to wait. Again she underestimated her tiredness, and dropped off quickly. When she woke up again, still alone, she felt more randy than ever.

Sally often masturbated in the mornings, and that was without being ravished in chains by a lesbian. She managed to pull the duvet off a few inches at a time, and found that if she lay on her back and crossed her legs, she could hold the chain by her fingers and "walk" the surplus length up her body. Its weight caused it to droop between her open legs, giving her a little stimulus as the links passed above her pussy. The she could straighten her legs, pulling it slowly down again.

Whether she could have brought herself off that way was doubtful. She was soon thinking that the risk of scratches and abrasions from the roughly soldered links would force her to stop, even more frustrated than before. She never had to make the decision. Preoccupied as she was, it took a moment to realize that Maude was standing in the doorway, wearing a towelling bathrobe and looking mildly annoyed.

"Mikaela warned me that slave heat was difficult to control. I thought it was something she'd read in a seedy novel. Now it looks as if you'll end up spending your nights staked out like a dead butterfly."

"I'm so sorry mistress. I've always been weak that way. Please forgive me."

"It's not forgiveness you need, but control, and that we'll have to set about providing. The cure for poor self-control is strict bondage."

That didn't sound too bad, and Sally relaxed as she was urged to her feet and led shuffling into the big family bathroom. Maude unravelled a very long, light chain that was hidden behind the toilet, and locked it to her waist. She removed all her other restraints, replacing her wrist cuffs with a chain that was locked directly on her, without cuffs. Another chain, thicker and smoothly finished, was put round her throat, locked both shut and to her wrists, which were thus confined closely under her chin.

"We don't want to get the leather wet, but we need to clean you thoroughly. Your face is positively shiny."

Maude started the shower and adjusted the temperature, shrugged off her robe, pulled Sally into the stall and proceeded to wash her, all over, including her hair. She did the same for herself, alternating between their two bodies, and then led the way out, to dry them with big, fluffy white towels. She rubbed their hair but left it to dry naturally. Simple moisturiser was applied all over both their bodies.

Then it was off to the master bedroom, Sally hoping very much that the process was going to end on the big bed. She was disappointed. her waist was locked to a bedpost with the usual precautions, and her other chains removed. Her collar was locked back in place. Maude then made her face the bed and pulled her hands behind her back, crossing the wrists. She produced from a drawer a big roll of black tape and proceeded to wind it, first horizontally, then vertically, many times in each direction. When she was satisfied that they were secure she used more winds of tape to secure the bound wrists to the waist chain, explaining as she did so.

"This is special bondage tape. It sticks only to itself. It's been made for a long time, but this is an improved type. It's self-annealing as well; the adhesive melts the layers together, so your wrists are set in a soft plastic mould. It should be very comfortable, but it's completely secure." She looked at her watch and added, inconsequentially; "It's just turned nine." She dressed herself simply in a red blouse and white shorts.

The last step before they went downstairs was to replace Sally's ankle cuffs, but she didn't lock them together until they reached the kitchen. They sat at the little table again, to the plainest of breakfast. Maude put four Weetabix and milk in one big bowl, and with a single spoon fed them alternate mouthfuls. She poured two mugs of coffee, one with a straw. After they had finished she took Sally into the lounge and sat her on the big sofa, facing the patio doors. To the bound girl's astonishment and dismay, she quickly raised the blinds, exposing her to the outside world. Reflexes took over; unable to conceal herself with her hands, Sally bent double with a horrified gasp. Tutt-tutting disapprovingly, Maude walked briskly around the sofa, reached down over the back to grab her collar, and hauled her upright.

"Don't be ridiculous, there's nobody out there," she snapped. "If there was, that would be my problem. Slaves are not allowed modesty."

From her pocket she took a length of cord and used it to tie the collar to the sofa's wooden frame.. Sally's head was pulled back slightly, and she felt that she was thrusting her breasts at the window, still half expecting a rustic gardener to appear, pushing a wheelbarrow. Her obvious distress brought another tirade from Maude, who seemed a different woman from yesterday.

"Keep still! I really can't understand how you can be such a harlot at one moment, and a blushing virgin the next. I thought I could see before; now the daylight makes it obvious. Your lips are fuller, and there are pink finger marks on your tits. You've been fucking Mikaela in the night. She needs protection from girls like you."

Sally began to detect a note of irony; Maude was having difficulty keeping up the pretence of an angry schoolmistress. She was feeling a little more confident now, enough to shuffle back on the seat to get her head up straight enough to survey the scene outside. There was a spacious patio with several trees in tubs, a wooden table with four dining chairs, two loungers and the inevitable barbeque. Beyond that was mature garden; a twenty yard square of well-tended lawn with herbaceous borders on each side. It was surrounded on three sides by a tall hedge, but opposite the house it was broken by a white metal arch with a gate, giving promise of more beyond. Spring bulbs were beginning to flower in the borders, with the promise of much more to come as Spring progressed. Maude had stopped to admire the scene herself for a few moments, but now she came around to sit at right angles to Sally, looking much less stern now.

"I really need to explain to you what we're doing this morning," she said, in a tone that suggested that she might be about to produce a couple of pairs of knitting needles and some wool. "You are a beautiful girl and you have breasts to die for, and I think they are shown to best advantage with your hands behind your back. It makes them completely open and accessible at all times, my property to do with as I like."

To demonstrate the point she reached out and gently manipulated the right one for a few seconds. "What I need to know is, how long can we keep you like that without it hurting you badly. So, you may ask me, at any time, to undo your hands, and I'll put them in another position. It'll take a few minutes to cut away the plastic safely, so I wouldn't leave it until you're in agony. I won't release you until you ask; there's no time limit. Is that clear so far?"

"Yes, mistress." Sally was thinking that it was odd to give her so much control. How will I know when she's satisfied? But Maude had more to say.

"Of course, you need an incentive not to give up too easily. Slavery isn't conducive to the development of a sense of responsibility or a determination to meet and overcome challenges. It isn't supposed to be, of course, but sometimes one needs to cater for a special case. A few years ago, I asked a friend- not Mikaela then- to tie my hands behind my back with some nice soft rope. She did it very well, I was very comfortable, and spent the next four hours mostly reclining on the sofa. The problem then was that my friend succumbed to the temptation to take advantage of me. Having her bouncing up and down on me- and she wasn't a gentle lover- gave me terrible aches and cramps in my upper arms and shoulders, and just as the fifth hour was over I had to ask her to let me go. I was disappointed, but there it is." She shrugged philosophically, before going on.

"This is the deal, and I think it's quite a good one for you; I'm in a generous mood despite your misdemeanours this morning. If you fail to hold out for three hours, you will be very severely punished. I wouldn't worry too much about that, though. Yesterday you were locked up in that position for about two hours, and you never even looked uncomfortable. You've already done an hour now. Are you OK?"

"Yes mistress. I had forgotten about my arms, mistress."

"Good. After three hours, the punishments will gradually diminish, until you reach five hours. That's a neutral outcome; you will be neither punished nor rewarded. After that, you will earn rewards, increasing as you go on. If you should manage seven hours- and I think that's very unlikely- your reward will be a day of total bliss, until Mikaela comes back. That would be tomorrow, but I don't expect to have to make good on that promise. Is that all clear?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Good. Remember that it was nine o'clock when I did you up. Of course you won't be lying here all day; I'm going to show you round the garden. It's supposed to be a nice warm day, but we'll have to amuse ourselves somehow for an hour while the temperature rises and the dew dries."

She went off, presumably to find some piece of equipment. Sally was feeling very confident. She had in fact conducted some experiments of her own about six months previously. Tying a knot in a dressing-gown cord, she had, while lying in bed, put her hands behind her back, through the loop, and twisted it tight. She had never meant to stay like that for more than an hour, but one night she had done it shortly after getting into bed at around midnight. She had drunk a little too much wine, and had promptly fallen asleep. She had woken at half past seven, dying for a pee, with her arms stiff and sore and her hands numb. It had taken her five minutes, sitting on the loo in the cold and dark of that January morning, to work her wrists loose.

It was the end of her venture into self-bondage, but no harm had been done. Now she was glad of the experience. She would make a point of flexing her upper arms and shoulders, as much as her bonds allowed, when her mistress wasn't looking. The only enemy that she knew she couldn't overcome was cramp, but she rarely suffered from that.

Maude returned with surprisingly little in the way of equipment- just the ankle spreader, which she left on the crescent sofa- but she had swapped her shorts for a skirt; black, short and flared. It didn't really suit her, and would have been unremarkable but for the lack of panties underneath. She pulled up a small armchair, putting it even closer to the patio doors, facing the sofa. On it she put the seat cushion from another identical one; they formed a pair that usually stood against the back wall of the room. She sat down, trying it out, and seemed satisfied. She could sit upright against the back, with her legs open but her knees bent over the front edge, and the balls of her feet resting on the floor. Rubbing her hands in gleeful anticipation, she summoned Sally from the sofa.

"Kneel in front of me; close as you can."

She had to reach forward to help her down, as Sally's ankles were still locked together. Having done that she lifted her skirt, put her arms behind her head and sat back, relaxed. Sally did not need instructions, but leant forward to begin her work.

Doing cunnilingus on Maude was quite different to performing the same service for Mikaela. The latter had supplied a lot of the muscle herself, forcing Sally's mouth into place and holding it there with hands or body weight. Now Sally had a passive subject leaving her to it. In some ways it was a more pleasant task. She hardly had to move at all to make contact; the outer lips were half open and it was just a matter of using her tongue to push her way through.

It was easy to gain entry, to penetrate the inner lips and gain access to the clitoris and the tunnel beneath. Beyond that it was more difficult. Without help, and with her hands bound, she had only her neck muscles to supply the force that she needed to push her tongue further in, and to press down on the whole vaginal area. She knew that she wouldn't be able to push continuously, and so used other techniques as much as possible. She chewed very gently on the labia, ran her tongue round inside the inner lips, and as the nubbin became engorged and swollen, took it between her lips and moved them rapidly from side to side, one against the other.

Every few seconds she pushed down, forcing her tongue deep into the wet hole and withdrawing to stroke the whole pubic area up and down. Maude's breathing indicated that she was getting a response, but to keep her excitement growing she needed to work faster and harder. Everything was aching; her neck, her tongue and her lips were all nearing the limit of their endurance. To flag or fail, she assumed, would mean a whipping, but the feeling of having failed her mistress would be a worse punishment.

She made herself go on, and at long last the flesh under her mouth began to push back, almost imperceptibly at first. Maude was doing her best to keep still, wanting to assess her new slave's stamina and ability to work unaided, and as she became more aroused she concentrated on deep breathing to help control the stirring in her loins. Her efforts to keep calm bottled up the pressure and ensured an explosive outcome.

Suddenly she bucked, once, twice, three times, four times, in quick succession. Sally was nearly thrown back by the first convulsion, and was lucky to keep her teeth clear of the tender flesh that was jammed against her mouth. Then she just clamped her lips in place and sucked, and was able to ride out the rest of the storm. When all was quiet she kept her place until gentle hands pulled her head away. She could feel more bruising in and around her lips. She waited anxiously for some pronouncement on her performance.

"Very nice. Now I know how you've managed to bend Mikaela to your wicked ways. Those lips are going to look like a Botox trout-pout if we keep this up, but I expect you'll toughen up in time. Time for coffee."

She went off to make it, leaving Sally kneeling on the floor, but soon returned to help her to hobble into the kitchen. Just like the day before, it was coffee through a straw and bites taken from a big cookie. Maude chatted about skin care products, showing a healthy scepticism about anything but moisturisers, and wanted to know Sally's opinion on different brands. With her face once again damp and salty, it was difficult to take the conversation seriously.

Afterwards Maude decided that they both needed something on their feet. She found sandals for herself, but went off and returned with a pair of high heeled patent leather (or plastic) shoes.

"These are just a little novelty that Mikaela picked up in Blackpool. It doesn't matter if you get them dirty."

The novelty lay in the fact that the shoes had a locking strap round the ankle, and a light chain, permanently attached, that kept them no more than fourteen inches apart. Thus hobbled, on heels that were much higher than any she had ever worn before, Sally was led tottering through the kitchen door into a little glass vestibule. Maude clipped a dog lead to her collar, and draped a woollen poncho-like garment over each of them, Sally's being much longer. "I look forward to the warmer weather, when we can go out naked," she remarked, "but it'll be another month or two, unfortunately."

They went out, and strolled (and minced) round the edge of the lawn that dominated the view from the lounge windows. Maude returned to the role of tour guide, and told Sally that she was free to ask questions or comment on the garden and its contents. The latter was still struggling to come to terms with being out in the open air, bound and on a lead, in a place new to her and where a gardener had been working only the day before. What if the gardener decides to do some extra work, to make up for time lost to bad weather? Suppose he's just planted some seedlings that need daily watering? She tried to make a conscious decision to accept that it just wasn't her business anymore. Her mistress would take care of her.

She began to distract herself by asking questions about specific plants, and found Maude very knowledgeable. The garden was beautifully kept; the lawn a weed-free lush green, the borders fully stocked in the English style, with mature perennials banked at the back, and smaller plants, including wallflowers, which Maude called "gillyflowers," towards the front. Most of the larger plants were just breaking into their spurt of spring growth, enjoying the shelter provided by the walls and hedges that made the garden so private. Rustic metal supports carried roses, honeysuckle and clematis, while a couple were vacant, waiting for their sweet peas.

The lawn was bisected by a herringbone brick path that led to the white metal gate that she had seen from the house. She was drawn through it into another "room" dominated by a large round lily pond. Most of the area was laid with stone flags, and it was surrounded on three sides by an old brick wall (the fourth side was the hedge backing onto the lawn). At one side was a large wooden shelter with a long bench and a slate roof, with climbing roses at the corners.

The next opening led to a longer walk along a little stream that had been channelled over rocks and through little pools, with the banks forming an alpine garden, and azaleas and camelias- some of the latter in full bloom- lining the sides. At the end, the path led to a solid wooden gate in a dense yew hedge, with the stream tumbling under it on the right. Maude pushed her charge to the left.

"We have to be a bit careful here. The odd fisherman sometimes comes a bit too close."

She dropped the lead and opened the gate carefully, disappeared for a moment, and returned smiling.

"It's fine. Come on through."

Sally didn't have much choice, but her first sight of the view beyond tested her resolve to trust her mistress. They were standing on the edge of a medium-sized tarn, probably four hundred yards long and half that across. There was a strip of grass between the shore and the garden hedge, and in places banks of reeds offered some protection from being observed from the opposite side, which was grazing land occupied by Jersey cows. Towards the end she could see farm buildings set back a little from the waterside. In the distance were hills which, she was sure, were part of the Lake District. They were exposed to view from a number of points, especially to anyone with good binoculars, but the scene was empty of people, and idyllic.

Along the shore to the left was a boathouse with a room above, and she was led in that direction. Maude opened a door and led the way onto the wooden platform inside, against which a pair of skiffs moved gently. They were well-kept, with hardly any water in the bottom. Next came a very careful climb up a narrow wooden staircase and through a trapdoor, and then the real revelation. The emerged into a luxurious studio, with comfortable cane furniture, a table and dining chairs, and a double bed with wooden posts at each corner. It was fully made and scattered with cushions, and looked most inviting to a slavegirl who was still waiting for the day's first orgasm.

She was pulled over to admire the view of the lake from the window, which was actually the whole end wall. It was a delicate framework of small panes, each about nine inches square, and the middle part was a French window that opened inwards, with a railing outside for safety. Having pointed out some salient features of the landscape- there were more farm buildings in the distance and a road that wound its way towards the hills- Maude brought down a huge roman blind and adjusted the slats to let in light while giving complete privacy, and urged Sally onto the bed.

"We haven't taken care of you yet, have we? You must be gagging by now."

The room was heated to roughly the same temperature as the house, so she quickly removed their strange garments and lay beside her. One of her long, sealed-lipped French kisses followed, after which she buried her face in the mounds of Sally's bosom, using her hands to push them together against her cheeks, then forcing the nipples, each in turn, deep into her mouth for prolonged sucking. Eventually she came up for air.

"If you keep waving these under my nose, I won't be able to think about anything, and you'll never get what you need. Open your legs. Cross your ankles."

She moved her right hand down to Sally's moistening sex, and, missing out most of the customary preliminaries, slipped three fingers straight in. She bent again to suck the swollen teats, moving from one to another every few seconds. The body underneath her was trying to respond; to move rhythmically against the probing fingers, but with the arms so helpless there was nothing to push with, and the outcome was a kind of undulation, with most of the impetus going into the chest, pushing against Maude's mouth. She bore down harder, moved faster, and was conscious of hoarse, meaningless cries filling the room. When the explosion came the legs snapped straight, trapping her hand in place and squeezing it up against the clit. It hurt a bit, but she hung on until peace was restored. She turned Sally onto her side to relieve the pressure on her arms, and presented her wet right hand to the still-panting mouth.

"Lick it clean now."

The fingers were eagerly devoured, first all at once, then sucked one at a time, and then it seemed natural to join the questing and now salty lips to her own. At least ten minutes passed before she parted them and lay back with a chuckle, slipping a hand down to rest lightly in the parting of the slave's pussy lips.

"It's really strange that anything gets done in the world, isn't it? Why don't people just do this all the time?"

She expected no answer, and got none. The breasts just quivered a little, and settled more closely against her. She happened to glance at a clock that hung on the wall.

"I hadn't noticed the time passing; it's after midday. Your first three hours are up; at least you know now that you aren't going to spend the rest of the weekend on bread and water."

Sally, who was beginning to doze off, looked up at her briefly before she remembered to keep her eyes down. Her mind was working now, although she gave no outward sign. Bread and water? That doesn't sound much fun, she thought. I assumed it would be whipping; a set number of strokes per hour. It's lucky I'm good at this. She realized, as the thought came and went, that she was thinking more and more about whipping. It was obviously going to happen at some point, but she had no idea at all what it would be like, except that it would hurt. Will they use a cat o'nine tails, or a single strand? Will the stretch me out and beat me like a rug on a line, or will the leave me some slack so that they can watch me writhe under the lash? Will I scream and beg, or will I be gagged; possibly blindfolded so that I won't see the strokes coming? How long will the marks last afterwards? Quite unknowingly, she was beginning to move- ever so slightly- her pelvis under the resting hand. Maude might not have detected it, had her fingers not felt wetness bubbling up between them. She gave a theatrical sigh.

"A housewife's work is never done, they say."

She reversed her position to bring them into the sixty-nine position, rolled them over to put Sally on top, and pulled the ankle chain to open her legs fully, holding on to it for the duration. As she went to work she crossed her own ankles and felt herself being pushed open and entered by a wet tongue. She closed her eyes to cut out some of the distractions, trying to concentrate on just two things at a time.

Sally was experiencing the same problem. She had never done a sixty-nine before, but had thought about it often enough, though always with a penis in the picture. It was easy, with gravity to help her, to play her own part. Once she had wormed her way through the slackening labia with her lips, she was able to push them down securely in place, flexing them constantly so that her lower lip was constantly moving over the clitoris. She kept her tongue extended, and it moved in and out of her mistress's sex automatically as her lips widened and closed again. She fully understood, now, the meaning of the phrase "eating pussy." The problem lay in the difficulty of doing that while fully appreciating the attention being paid to her own sex.

Maude was doing her best to distract her, and had a spare hand to give her an unfair advantage, but Sally closed her own eyes and tried to merge the sensations into a single whole. The feeling of the tongue and lips squirming in her own sex; the fingers feeling for her sweet spot, and her liquid flowing into the open mouth, was simply a mirror image of the sensations that she was inflicting on Maude's sopping flesh. How successful she was in bringing about this mental synthesis she was never quite sure, but she obviously got close enough. Both women came within seconds of one another, and when the bucking and twisting was at its height, Maude had to move one hand onto Sally's buttocks, and another onto her head, to hold her in place. When it was over she threw her off laughing, and turned to rub their wet faces together, and taste herself in her new slave's mouth.

She was tempted to let them relax on the bed in post-coital harmony, but time was passing. She pulled Sally off the bed and to a door in a side wall and out into the open again, after a quick check for potential observers. With her bound arms, Sally was glad not to have to tackle the ladder, especially as her legs were distinctly wobbly. There were only three broad steps to the ground, safely negotiated with her mistress's hand on her arm. They went back to the house, but walked around the left side into a large gravelled courtyard.

The layout of the property became clearer. The big front door opened into the space which was bounded in front by a brick wall with the drive passing under an arch. To the left was the very large barn that served as the garage; obviously the drive branched outside the gate to give access to its doors. On the right was a lower, older barn, and into this Maude led the way. It served as a store and housed all the gardener's equipment.

"There must be stuff in here that we can make use of."

Ferreting about in some boxes, she came up with a plastic tool that seemed to be designed for making small holes in compost. It was green and a little longer than a pencil. One end was a rod, a pencil width with a rounded end. The other, shorter end also had a blunt end, but it widened gradually to a diameter of about a third of an inch, before tapering sharply to a narrow "waist" at about two-fifths of the length of the instrument. It all rang a bell; Sally had seen similar things attached as free gifts to the covers of gardening magazines. This one was clean and unused; doubtless it held no attraction for a professional.

Maude took it and led the way into the house, going back around to the kitchen door. Sitting her slave at the kitchen table, she started putting out food; very much the same as the day before. This time she cut the cheese up into small pieces that she could pop into Sally's mouth, and offered bits of bread torn by hand from another defrosted loaf. There was orange juice to drink through a straw, and cherry tomatoes to balance the meal, more or less.

Trying not to sound too interested, she asked: "How do your arms feel now?"

"Very well, thank you, mistress."

It was close to the truth. Sally had felt some twinges and little aches, especially after lying on them in the bed, but there had been nothing that could not be dispelled by flexing her arm muscles and shrugging her shoulders, which she had done often when her mistress's attention was elsewhere. She liked the bondage, which felt so natural that at times she practically forgot that she had arms at all. With more than a day's experience behind her, she was learning the secret of living comfortably in restraints. There was a natural tendency to see them as an imposition and to fight against them. With rope there was always a chance of getting loose, but in leather, chain, steel, moulded plastic, it was easier to forget about the possibility of freedom, and to relax into the bonds, treating them more as a support than a restriction.

She could see that Maude was getting a little uneasy, probably having expected some evident distress by this time. She said nothing more about it, however, and concentrated on feeding her pieces of apple and segments of clementine, and finally making coffee.

Sturm und Drang

After lunch Maude pronounced that it was far too nice to stay in, so after a visit to the bathroom she brought the ponchos, threw a few assorted items into a shoulder bag, and led the way back outside. She took them back to the "room" with the lilypond, but this time they went into the shelter, which turned out to have a door in the back. It led to an area that they had not visited in the morning; a rectangular space that obviously ran parallel to the alpine garden. It comprised mostly herb and vegetable beds, some of them raised, and the walls were home to cordoned fruit trees. Beyond that was a square occupied by old wood-framed greenhouses, cold frames and composting bays. Skirting the latter they came to another gate in a hedge, and after a quick peek through, Maude led the way through to the shore of the tarn.

They were close to the boathouse on the side opposite the other gate, and Sally began to realize that the garden was actually a square, with the house in one corner. This part of the shore was particularly open to view from the water or the far side of the tarn, but she was pulled away from safety to look through the boundary fence, which was a stout metal one with barbed wire at the top.

"Have you noticed anything odd about the layout of the property?"

"Mistress, it's a beautiful place, but it seems odd to me that the house has no view of the tarn. Most restorers would want to exploit that."

"Look over there." Maude pointed through the fence to a flat area above a clear meadow that sloped down to the water. "The original house was there; a hall with nothing but a lawn in the way. The garden with all these high hedges and walls hid the buildings of the home farm; that's my house now. The old hall was burnt down accidentally in 1977, and after that the farm buildings were separated from the land and sold with the garden. I bought it five years ago and had some changes made, and the gardens restored. I own the drive between the house and the road and the paddocks on each side, so I have good privacy and lots of security devices. I have access by another gate near the garage to another track that leads through farmland into a big area of woodland. It's quite a maze down there. One can drive for miles without seeing a paved road, and you'd be surprised at the number of homes dotted about, much more isolated than this. Anyway; let's go inside and relax for a bit."

She led the way through the door into the room in which they had had so much pleasure that morning. The air seemed more close, and she opened the French windows, gesturing to Sally to stay well back in the room.

"Try not to make as much noise as you usually do. This is a quiet, respectable neighbourhood. Lie face down on the bed, I'll be with you in a minute."

She rummaged in the bag and came up with keys, locks and cuffs, and pulled on Sally's feet to bring her sliding down so that most of the length of her legs were over the end of the bed. She checked that her hands were still secure, and unlocked and removed the shoes with their connecting chain. Then she cuffed her ankles and, pulling them as wide apart as they would easily go, she chained them to the bedposts.

"I've seen pictures of girls with their legs tied to a single straight pole, so they stick out as perfect right angles from their bodies", she commented. "I don't think you are quite up to that yet, but we're not far off. Perhaps in time. These are unbelievable."

She was referring to Sally's buttocks, forced upwards by the position in which she was confined. This form of bondage displayed her quite differently to any other that she had experienced; her crotch stretched open, her private parts aimed upwards, almost begging for attention. Maude looked at her critically. Her bust, crushed under her like two pillows, was holding her chest up a little, so that her head drooped onto the bed. She put a pillow under her face to level it with the rest of her torso. It made for a more pleasing line, and was probably more comfortable, too.

She left Sally for a few minutes to make some more preparations. Despite the show of bringing the bag from the house, much had been done in advance to ensure that the boathouse was fully equipped, and a drawer in a bedside cabinet offered a selection of vibrators and ointments. She chose a simple straight probe, the thickness of an average erection. She knew the batteries were fresh. She took the dibber out of her bag and applied KY Jelly to the narrow end, and laid both instruments on a cloth on the left (facing the bottom) of the bed. She sat on the right, and bent to grip the proffered buttocks, kneading and massaging for a minute. As she moved her thumbs into the valley between them, stroking outwards to pull stretch the anal orifice, she felt them stir under her hands; whether with apprehension or anticipation she couldn't tell.

As she began to move her thumbs ever so gently over the opening itself, she felt delicious little shivers under her hands and pressed a little harder. Discretion being the better part of valour, however, she decided to shift her focus for a while.

She took the vibrator and turned it on low, and rubbed it gently against Sally's outer labia. Her juices were oozing out to lubricate it, and the lips were pouting more as they pushed out to make closer contact. She obliged by pushing it right in, and leaving it still for a long minute before beginning to move it gently in and out. It was a tried and trusted approach, perhaps too much so to be very interesting, but to its user it was only a means to an end. She monitored the effects very closely, feeling the bottom moving gently against the thrusting of the shaft.

As Sally's breathing quickened she was taking the dibber in her left hand (she was almost ambidextrous) and positioning it carefully over the sphincter, but without actually touching. When the orgasm began she still waited, until certain that all possibility of control was gone. Then she met an upward thrust of the beautiful bottom with a downward movement of her hand, and the dibber sank effortlessly inside. About three inches in, she held it steady. That was really all she had to do. The muscles clenched shut round the plastic rod, but the convulsions of the vagina were strong enough to take charge, so that the sphincter muscles joined the rhythm. The relaxations coincided with sharp upward movements of the whole pelvic area, and the probing plastic sank a little deeper with each cycle.

Helpless under these ministrations, Sally was aware of the foreign invasion as a hardness entering where and when she was most vulnerable. Her uncontrollable urge to expel it brought a series of sharp, stabbing sensations as the passage walls cramped against the rod, but she found herself relishing the pain that allied itself so perfectly with her orgasmic spasms. The much thicker rod of the vibrator was still pushing and twisting itself ever deeper into her vagina, and as her anal opening began to give up the struggle the balance in the partnership between pain and pleasure began to shift towards the latter. Instead of subsiding, she went straight into a second climax. Everything in her body that could move at all was shaking, her bound arms drumming on her back, her hands and fingers opening and closing below the tape that held them fast. She had managed to take a huge bite of pillow which was soaking with her saliva, gagging the cries that might otherwise have been audible far beyond the walls of the boathouse.

Afterwards, she was soaked. Although she couldn't see it, a little electronic weather station near the window was showing over 90% humidity. The sky was darkening ominously, and the first distant rolls of thunder could just be heard. Still clothed, Maude felt damp and sicky, so she gently removed the plastic tools and stripped naked, resuming her sitting position.

"We seem to be making a bit of progress," she remarked. "You know, porn writers often refer to women "squirting", and I've always taken it with a pinch of salt, but the bed here under your cunt looks as though you've peed on it. If the vibrator hadn't been in the way it would have gone halfway across the room."

While she was talking she was repeatedly wetting her hand with Sally's juices and rubbing them into the still proud buttocks, which wriggled provocatively under the treatment. Not wanting to start all over again she stopped, released her ankles from the bedposts and locked them together. She rolled the slavegirl onto her side and lay with her, and they fell into one of the kissing sessions that were becoming a hallmark of their relationship. As they were lost in one another's lips the first storm reached the peak of its fury: the lightning flashed almost continuously in the near-darkness, the thunder crashed with it, but the sound was almost drowned by the drumming of the rain on the Velux windows in the roof.

The noise just beginning to abate when Maude came up for air and glanced at the clock. She had to speak quite distinctly to be heard even at close range.

"It's after two o'clock. You've done five hours; you can ask me to release your hands at any time without punishment."

Sally didn't want her to do anything that would involve removing her hands from her breasts. After her orgasms her arms had felt very sore, but that was largely due to gravity pulling on her shoulders. As soon as she was put on her side she felt much better, and quite sure that she would be able to hold out for the maximum reward. Maude looked a little disappointed to get no reply, but gave her another brief kiss before rising from the bed.

She went over to the little kitchen corner near the window and made tea, producing some biscuits from a drawer. There were no mains services except heating in the boathouse, but there was a little gas hob running from a cartridge, a tank of rainwater on the roof, and (much needed in the deep gloom) two battery-powered lanterns. There were some little cartons of fruit juice, and from one of them she took the straw for Sally's teacup. They sat at the little table where they would have been clearly visible from the water, but the weather was enough protection.

Tea was taken with very little conversation, both women watching the storms with amazement. The first had passed over and the rain had eased enough to allow a clear view of the next thunderhead gathering over the hills. The lightening flickered constantly in the distance, while flashes from the one that had just passed lit up the landscape every few seconds. The din was tremendous. Sally had never experienced quite such intense weather at close quarters; she had always managed to be in a proper building.

"May I ask something, mistress?" She ventured.

"Go on."

"Are we in any danger from the lightning, mistress?"

"No, I'm glad to say. The previous owner was terrified of it; one of his brothers was struck and killed playing golf in New Jersey. He had conductors fitted to every structure on the property. They are even in the garden walls and hedges; he hired an expert to make sure that it would be practically impossible to be hit anywhere. I marvel at how lucky I was to find this place. I wanted privacy, but I didn't know then how much I needed it. Now I'd like to buy up all the land round this tarn, but there's no sign of the owners wanting to sell it yet. At least there are no public footpaths."

They lingered, watching the rain for another few minutes, and then returned to the bed. Both were sleepy, and not wanting to be disturbed, Maude arranged the cushions to make Sally's arms as comfortable as possible. She went to sleep quickly, right hand on her slave's right breast, head against her shoulder. After a bit of wriggling and flexing Sally dropped off also. She had long had the knack of ignoring noise, and the next approaching storm had woken her mistress before awareness returned. The latter was dressed, but leaving aside her poncho she was busy shaking out a thin plastic raincoat, which she then put on. It was big- almost coming to her ankles- and had overlong sleeves and a capacious hood. The front sealed shut, but Maude left that for the moment.

"Woken up, cloth-ears? How on earth can you sleep in this racket? We need to be getting back to the house. You won't want to get your shoes wet."

With that she removed the high heels. Sally was still wearing ankle cuffs above them, so Maude connected them with a foot of chain. Sally was wondering what thin plastic would feel like when plastered against the curves of her body by the driving rain. She needn't have worried, for she was left naked. After a quick check that the gas cartridge was properly turned off, Maude sealed up her mac, pulled Sally to her feet and led the way out. By the door the overhanging roof gave some shelter, but she lifted Sally- whose feet were chained too close together for the steps- out and to the ground.

The rain was torrential, although the thunder had receded somewhat and there was no lightning close by. In a second Sally was as wet as if she had jumped into the tarn. The water plastered her hair to her head and ran down her face in rivulets, and, worst of all, it poured into her eyes, so she could see nothing but a blur. It was also cold; colder than she would have thought possible on a mild day in March. Gasping, she struggled to follow the pull of the lead, her bare feet often immersed where the water stood in puddles. She would have loved to make a dash for the house, but even if that had been allowed, she could only take short, shuffling steps.

She was taken via the garden gate and the alpine garden, where Maude was able to stride from rock to rock, while Sally sloshed through deeper pools where the stream was overflowing. After what seemed a very long time they reached the main lawn, but instead of being led straight to the house she was dragged over to one of the borders.

"These little chrysanths were only planted on Thursday; I was worried that they would need watering over the weekend. It's good that they've had this shower." Turning to look directly at her charge Maude went on: "You look very sexy wet. Look at the water on your breasts; the way it runs down and gathers to fall off your nipples in little cascades." She held her hands open to collect the flows, and moved them to stroke and caress the glossy mounds. She moved in close and pulled her hood over to cover both their faces, and joined their mouths together, feeling the coldness of Sally's wet lips. Despite the temperature they felt even softer than usual, and an even closer, more airtight seal. But she also felt a tremble in the shoulders as she grasped them, and decided that further exposure was counter-productive.

She broke off and they finished the journey to the kitchen porch. Sally stood shivering on the tiles, relieved to be out of the driving rain but still cold, so her mistress left her for a minute to return- minus the mac- with two white bath towels. One she used as a mat, grumbling about drips on "her nice clean floor." With the other she rubbed her dry, using enough friction warm her up as well. Then she led the way through into the lounge, and lay her flat on the sofa facing the patio. She stripped, straddled her face, grasped her head, and pulled it hard into her crotch. After she had satisfied herself, she stretched and relaxed, using a convenient breast for a pillow, but she was not allowed long.

The landline rang, and Sally found herself trying to extrapolate from half a conversation with Mikaela. Yes, she had been good, except that she'd been caught masturbating this morning (audible sounds from the other end). Yes, she still had her hands taped behind her back (surprised noises). Yes, Maude would see to it. She would order dinner. She would have something nice for Mikaela when she came home. She was looking forward to seeing her.

Hanging up, Maude took a hard look at her slave, decided that no plea for release was imminent, and left the room. She was gone for about twenty minutes, and then only returned to check on her charge before disappearing again. Sally closed her eyes and appeared to be dozing, but by now the ache in her shoulders too severe for that. Nevertheless, when her owner returned to announce that the seven hours were up, she only thanked her for the information.

"I'm going to have to speed things up a bit," was the reply," I've got things to do before Mikaela joins us."

A few short minutes later Sally was standing against one of the posts that supported the ceiling beams, with a wooden pole under her armpits The metal eyes at each end were roped to a ring above her head, and she was almost hanging; at least half her weight driving the rod into her armpits. It hurt. Without the weakening effect of the day's bondage she might have stood it for half an hour, and she managed to grit her teeth and last ten minutes, but the end was inevitable.

"Mistress, I beg you to release my arms."

The pain became bearable as soon as her feet were back on the floor, and the tape connecting her wrists to the waist chain was soon cut away with sharp scissors. She was locked to the post by her collar, and it took another ten minutes to release her wrists, very carefully, with the scissors and a sharp knife. She was left to exercise her arms for five minutes, and it did take that time to get them moving properly again. She was surprised to feel very flat, almost depressed, as if she had hoped that her arms would never be free again. She snapped out of it when her mistress came back, cuffed her hands in front, and took her, via the toilet, upstairs. The destination was not a bedroom but the family bathroom.

"You had a good wash this afternoon, but I wasn't so self-indulgent, and I'm still all clammy. I'll take a shower."

Sally was chained to a towel-rail by her wrists, and had to watch while Maude stripped and enjoyed the hot water for a good twenty minutes. The open "wet alcove" gave an unobstructed display as she paid special attention to her breasts, buttocks and intimate openings, going over them several times each. Sally started kneading her own boobs, bending forward to reach her hands with them, but was stopped with a sharp word and a wagging finger. When her tormentor finally came out and took a towel, she tried to nuzzle her back, which was turned to her, but was rewarded with nothing but a brief peck on the lips. When Maude was finally dry, moisturised and dressed in a long bathrobe, she was taken to Mikaela's bedroom, which looked exactly as it had the day before.

"This is a tricky one to get just right, and we have to do everything in the right order. Mikaela should be here in about twenty minutes, so don't distract me. You can put this on first."

"This" turned out to be a breather gag: a thick, hollow rubber tube over two inches long, faced with a black leather pad. When fitted it completely covered the mouth, with a hole in the middle and a row of metal studs around the edge for decoration. The strap buckled and locked behind the head. There were chin and head straps as well, also locked in place. Sally found it neither more nor less comfortable than the gag she had worn the day before, but being able to breathe freely through her mouth gave her confidence.

"It comes with a few accessories." Maude produced them like a keen shop assistant, demonstrating how they fitted. "There's a funnel for introducing liquids, and a kind of whistle that sounds if you breathe through it, but we don't need those now."

Sally was still wondering about the liquids when Maude produced a black, penis-shaped rubber dildo, lubricated it with KY Jelly, and inserted it was far as it would go. It had a flange that fitted against her pubic mound, and that in turn had a flat vertical loop fitted to the outside. The next item was strap-on dildo, mounted on a rubber belt with a hook inside that fitted into the loop. The assembly was tightly buckled at the side. The slavegirl now sported an extremely realistic Caucasian penis, fully erect at about seven inches, with a slight upward curve.

She was then made to bend over with her hands over her head, so that her breasts hung free. A thick rubber band was fitted round the base of each, and she was pulled in front of the full-length mirror to examine the result. The bands had been carefully chosen, she could feel their pressure but they did not hurt; at least not yet. Her boobs were made more bulbous- more protruding- and the nipples more forward pointing. Combined with the gag, with black straps framing her chin and nose and passing up between her eyes, and the thrusting shaft of the male tool below, it made an image that threatened to turn her knees to jelly.

Next, she was pushed on to the bed, face up, and her collar chained to the frame behind her head. Her wrists were separated and stretched out to the corners, as they had been the previous day. What came next was quite different, however. Two broad webbing straps, like those often used to retain loads on trailers, were led over her body above and below the bust, under the bed, and tightened, with the fasteners to the side. She was held down, barely able to wriggle her chest. A thin line was tied between the top of the vertical gag strap and the bedhead, making it impossible for her to lift her head from the pillow that had been put under it.

She expected that her legs would be stretched out next, but instead her ankles were locked together and chained to the bottom rail very loosely, so she could bend her knees and put her feet almost flat on the bed. It seemed odd to be so closely confined while having so much movement in her legs, but Maude seemed satisfied with her work. She had now switched on the television, and was watching the gate. To pass the time- for a few minutes passed uneventfully- she sat on the bed and, dropping a little baby oil into her right hand, massaged it into Sally's breasts, which now resembled slightly misshapen versions of the onion domes on Brighton Pavilion. She seemed happy to keep up this good work indefinitely, but it was only a few minutes before the monitor showed Mikaela's car arriving.

With a show of reluctance she got up, bent to kiss Sally briefly on each nipple, said, "She's here. She'll have had a busy day, so try not to tire her out," and left the room.

It was about ten minutes before "she" came breezing in, showing very little sign of fatigue.

"Well well, these are certainly the best things I've seen since the Mancunian Way. I suppose you're going to want me to do something with them? You'll have to get me in the mood first, though."

She stripped, giving Sally her first glimpse of her naked body. Previous impressions were confirmed; it was not voluptuous but smoothly muscular, with a waist that was distinct but not particularly narrow. The breasts were shallow but broad- pads rather than points- with large nipples and areolas. The latter, like the prominent, fleshy outer labia, were brown-tinged, confirming the impression of some Asian content in her ancestry. There was an economy and grace in her movements that suggested a background in sport or dance, and a lack of self-consciousness that spoke volumes about their relationship. Sally was there for her pleasure, not she for Sally's, and her opinion was neither here nor there.

Mikaela looked more thoughtful than excited as she climbed onto the bed. She took a tube of KY Jelly thoughtfully left there by Maude, and applied it to the strapped-on penis. Then she straddled Sally's legs and slowly impaled herself on it, easing her whole weight down before rising again to the point where only the very tip was hidden. Beneath the belt the dildo stirred, pushed by the weight above, then pulled by the hook, but restricted to a fraction of an inch by the tightness of the fit. Mikaela increased the tempo only very gradually, pausing briefly at the bottom of each downstroke to include a little circular, grinding, motion. Sally tried to maximize her own sensations by pushing up with her feet flat on the bed, but although she was aroused she held little hope of cumming before or with her rider.

The latter was more and more absorbed in her own feelings, tossing her head, eyes closed, and seemed close to her goal. Then, without any break in her rhythm, she reached behind to find another accessory left by her reliable friend. It was a soft leather flogger, about two feet long, with three broad tails. As she reached the lowest point in her next cycle, her right arm came over, and the whip seared across Sally's left breast.

Sally had fantasized about many things, but breast whipping was not one of them. The shock probably had more effect than the pain, and her whole body would have convulsed had it been free to do so. It was not: her chest and arms could not move at all and her head very little, so all the impetus went into her legs and torso, driving the penis upwards to force the last millimetre of penetration. Striking right and left domes alternatively, it took Mikaela a few strokes to get the rhythm exactly right, but then the pace quickened very rapidly, as she seemed to be imitating a rodeo rider on a bucking bronco.

For her mount, the sting of the lash on such tender flesh was severe but not unbearable. Maude had chosen carefully and well. As the initial shock wore off she was able to use the pain as a spur; and the feelings in her sex combined with the stinging in her mammaries, as if a short-circuit had occurred in her nervous system. Sometimes the effect was doubled as one of the whip tails hit a nipple. It was after several of these strikes in succession that she suddenly came, violently and without warning.

Mikaela was almost thrown off, but held on to cum herself only seconds later. She abandoned all self-control with a series of yells that must have been heard by Maude. Finally she threw the flogger onto the floor and flopped onto her front with her head against Sally's. There she stayed for quite some time without making any move to lift herself off the penis, but just as it seemed that she might want to go again she raised herself, and got off the bed.

"I have to say, that I really enjoyed that. I wonder how much your tits can take. I like the bands, but I think we could have got away with a size smaller."

She removed the rubber bands. The breasts were by now a very much darker pink than the surrounding skin, and were striped with darker lines left by the whipping. They already ached, and more pain flooded into them with the returning blood, causing Sally to strain at the straps that held her down flat, and moan into the gag. Mikaela made no move to release her, but threw on her housecoat and left the room.

It was some time before Maude appeared to get her up for dinner. She was taken downstairs with her hands locked to her collar, but once at the dinner table her feet were attached to the legs of her chair, her left hand to its side, and her right left free. It was Chinese, so she only needed one, as they ate with forks. She enjoyed the meal, eating lots of special fried rice, with lemon chicken and prawns with cashew nuts. There were sides; butterfly prawns, prawn toast, spring rolls and little spare ribs. With it went champagne; Mikaela was celebrating the end of the working week. She was going to spend Sunday in Blackpool and would be back later ("don't wait for dinner") but would spend most of Monday with them.

She knew that Maude had promised Sally a whole day of bliss, and clearly didn't approve.

"You make rods for your own back. A slave doesn't need rewards. You can't say "Do this and I will do that;" it makes obedience conditional. But obedience is an absolute requirement."

"It is," replied Maude, "but you have to remember that a slave might not be fully aware of her capacity to obey. She needs punishments and rewards to help her to override her natural instincts."

"I think that one should train her so that her natural instinct is always to obey. Otherwise you don't really own her completely."

"I suppose it depends what you want to own. I want to own Sally completely, but I want to own her as she is. I don't want to suppress her personality, and own an automaton. Remember that if you buy a dog you own it. If you want the dog to learn a trick you offer a treat, and if he does what you want you give him the treat. He's still your dog."

"That's rather a mixture of arguments, but I can understand what you mean. It's not just having her as a slave that you find interesting, but the process of enslaving her, and you want her to understand what's happening to her. It's something that you can never really finish. Keeping it going over a long time; that will be a real challenge."

"But one to which I will apply myself conscientiously."

The subject of their conversation was continuing her banquet in silence, noting the further evidence that she was not to be discarded on Tuesday. Dessert was fresh raspberries and summer fruit sorbet, and there was port with the coffee. By that time the conversation had shifted to more harmless topics, such as their favourite brand and flavour of ice cream, and they even sought Sally's views (Haagen Das; caramel and salted butter). Mikaela, however, was full of surprises.

"Are you going to change her name?"

"I hadn't thought of it; I quite like her present one."

"It would put your stamp on her; make her feel more yours."

"What would you suggest?"

"From what I've read, it's best to use a name that emphasises one of her more valuable slave attributes. It can be a physical feature or a name based on one, like 'Nipples' or 'Titney.' Or it can be something she is prone to, like 'Juicy,' or something she does well or likes, such as 'Cunny.' It should be changed at least once a month, if not more often."

"It's something to think about, but I'd be a bit nervous of forgetting and using the name in public. I'll stick with 'Sally' for now, but you're welcome to use another name if you want."

"We'll see."

After they were finished Maude arranged Sally's daily trip to the toilet. She left her for twenty minutes this time while they cleared up after the meal, but some back issues of bondage magazines had been put in the room for her entertainment. Afterwards they put her straight into sirik, with her hands tight to her throat and the main chain shortened so that she could only walk bent over, and only lie down with her legs drawn up. Tired and a little affected by the wine, they all lay down on the big window sofa, the slave between her mistresses, and slept for nearly two hours.

Sally woke up first, and tried to keep still so as not to disturb the others by rattling her chain. Maude was second, and they were engaged in a long, deep kiss when Mikaela came to. They disentangled themselves and moved to the crescent settee, where it was more comfortable to sit side by side. The two mistresses removed their clothes. Sally was put face down, head on a cushion by Mikaela's side, chest on her lap, bottom facing up from Maude's, and legs on another cushion, bent like those of a frog about to jump because of the short chain. The dibber and a tube of lubricant were on the coffee table.

For the time being the two mistresses contented themselves with manual stimulation of their respective ends. Sally had fingers exploring her mouth and lips, and others probing her labia and the rising damp beneath. One hand idly moved across her back, reaching underneath sometimes to stroke the side of a crushed breast, while another stroked the buttocks that were lifted and separated by her position and her restraints. Following the tried and trusted method that had worked that afternoon, Maude was dipping into the wetness and wiping it backwards along the valley, running fingers round the puckered entrance that faced straight upwards, as if beckoning, almost demanding attention.

Sally felt a finger circling the target slowly, but gradually pressing more insistently on the muscle, and found it impossible to refrain from pushing up against it. It went in just a fraction of an inch; less than the (well-trimmed) nail, and there was no adverse reaction. Sally felt her sphincter quiver but managed to relax, distracting herself by concentrating on the fingers in her mouth. Then the finger was withdrawn, and a few seconds later she felt the more insistent, deeper thrust of the plastic dibber, going in this time by the thicker, blunter end. Again, she managed to relax her whole lower half, and for a few seconds she was able to take the rod, but then the contraction came and she cried out with the sudden sharp pain, and Maude allowed the tool to slide smoothly out, just leaving the tip holding the entrance ajar.

Calm was restored, and pleasure followed as fingers wriggled into her vagina. As the ass under her hands began to move again, Maude exploited each wave by allowing the rod to sink a little deeper. This time the distraction was enough for the writhing slave, and by the time she came the intruder had regained all its lost territory. Riding her luck, its handler moved it in and out like a little dildo, keeping to the rhythm of the orgasm, and when it was over, she just took her hand away, leaving it sticking out like a little mast. Sally could feel the hardness inside her, but it no longer hurt, and she found that she could control her reaction to it, enjoying the feeling that she got from squeezing it gently. It did not come out, as the narrow opening was grasping the narrow stem in the middle of the object.

"You know, I think you've broken her," exclaimed Mikaela. "She's wanking on it!"

"Let's just leave her to get used to it for a few minutes," was the reply. "We can amuse ourselves in the meantime. Leave your fingers where they are."

The two mistresses leant back, looked at one another, and kissed. Sally lay there accustoming herself to the presence in her bottom, licking and sucking the fingers in her mouth, listening to the faint sucking noises from above, and feeling the movement of the laps under her as the torsos above twisted gradually to face one another. She half expected to be dumped on the floor as their passion grew, but that didn't happen. Her mistresses restrained themselves, but Mikaela still wanted satisfaction. They lifted her off and put her on her back, and first knelt on either side of her chest, each taking a breast and rubbing her clit with the nipple. They were firm enough to hurt a little, for the whip had tenderized the sensitive flesh. It was an awkward position for them, however, more suited to porn films than real life, so they decided to take turns on her mouth.

Mikaela mounted first, kneeling to face Maude who was astride her hips, keeping herself aroused by rubbing against the chain. Sally was able, with her hands locked to her throat, to reach up with her fingers to the stroke the clitoris just above, so she could use her tongue to thrust into the gaping tunnel. It crossed her mind to wonder whether it would have the stamina to do both the women, who were kissing above her and fondling one another's breasts.

Maude's constant movements were causing the protruding part of the dibber to rub against the bed, and the thick end was making little movements inside her. In an attempt to enhance them she was wriggling her bottom, causing movements in the chain that further stimulated the sex that was moulding itself round the links above. It was smooth, well-finished steel, so Maude was able to ride it hard without fear of damaging herself, and as her excitement grew her kisses grew more insistent, and she tried to pull Mikaela closer by seizing and pulling on her nipples. She in turn was infected by the rising passion, and soon came, groaning into one mouth and grinding her wetness into the other. Maude followed almost immediately, and Sally endured long seconds of being pounded by the hard links of the chain on her belly.

Afterwards Mikaela kept to her perch as she relaxed, like a jockey who has just won a race, sitting back in the saddle. She was laughing and clutching her breasts at the same time;

"Fuck! You nearly pulled my nipples off!"

"They were damp and difficult to keep hold of. Perhaps you should think of having them ringed, to give me something to grasp."

Maude was climbing off, feeling gingerly where the chain had rubbed hardest. Underneath, Sally was wondering whether this was another opportunity to show initiative, perhaps of earning an orgasm for herself. By easing her head back she could run her mouth underneath, reaching Mikaela's anal opening with her tongue. She circled it a few times and then poked at it, expecting hands to come down from above and pull it open. But her rider just wriggled and pressed down for a few seconds, and climbed off. As she dropped onto the floor she bent down, as if by chance, to bring her mouth close to Sally's ear.

"Nice touch," she whispered. "Soon."

Wine was brought from the kitchen, and they all sat side by side refreshing themselves. The mistresses decided to inspect their slave for wear and tear, since the last few hours had included a certain amount of roughness. She had stood up to it well; her breasts bore a great many faint pink whipmarks, and overall they were a little blotchy from the pressure of being forced down on the bed. There were no marks remaining from the rubber bands. Between the two mounds, slight indentations from the chain were visible. From the way she reacted when touched, it was obvious that the teats were tender and sensitive. Her face was quite flushed and very salty to the taste (they tried it) and, as had been the case earlier in the day, her lips looked fuller and more pouty than usual.

Moving down her body, the marks of the chain could be traced right down her abdomen, but as her vagina had been facing almost backwards, no damage had been done there. All in all they found her condition as good as could be expected, but agreed that breast care was all-important.

"They'll need lots of massaging, lots of oiling and moisturising," pronounced Maude. "We need to look up diet and exercise; see if we can find out what's best for them. It's ironic that they're one of the most delicate and sensitive parts of the body, but also one of the most hard-worked. And if you think of most women's tits as the muscles of someone who cycles to work now and again, think of these as the thigh muscles of a Tour de France winner. We need to treat them accordingly."

"Not sure about the analogy; we don't want any part of her all tough and stringy!" Mikaela replied with a laugh. "The hard part is keeping this softness and roundness" (illustrating her point with gentle squeezes) while they're in hard, daily use. Good bras are part of the solution, but they need to let enough air through to the skin. This isn't our problem yet, anyway. If it becomes so we'll get her properly fitted. In the meantime we should just take every opportunity to stimulate the blood flow to them."

"The trick with the rubber bands: doesn't that do the opposite?"

"I think that breast bondage is actually helpful. When they're released the blood comes flooding back and pumps through them really vigorously. Don't let them turn purple, though; a darkish pink is probably the optimum. A gentle whipping is good, but don't hang her from them!"

Sally was listening to all this with mixed feelings, wondering, among other things, what a severe breast whipping would feel like. Luckily it didn't sound as if she would be finding out anytime soon. While her mistresses fell silent as they sipped their wine, she was trying to get some discrete stimulation from the sirik chain. By keeping her feet well up she could get it to hang between her legs, But that only brought more frustration. The answer lay in bending her knees so much that she could reach it with a heel, pushing it against her sex and varying the pressure. She managed to keep this up for a while without attracting attention, but in the end her breathing gave her away. Her mistresses were, after all, sitting close on either side of her.

"This is what we're up against," protested Maude, grabbing the offending foot. "She's completely insatiable. We can keep an eye on her in the daytime, but the real problem's the night. It's surprisingly difficult to chain her up so that she can't interfere with herself; I hadn't really expected that."

"We could make her sleep with her hands behind her, or stake her out."

"It might come to something like that, but we do need her to get a good night's sleep, and I want her hands behind her a lot during the day. I'd also like her to use the video; some of the clips have very improving messages for her."

"We need a chastity belt, but we won't have one this weekend. Bondage mitts or a straitjacket would do, and we might be able to fix up a way for her to start and stop the video with her head or a foot pedal. For now, I'd lock her hands where they are now, and put the strap-on belt on her, good and tight. It'll be a bit unhygienic if she has to pee, but we can live with that."

Maude looked directly at the subject of their discussion. "Do you often have to go during the night?"

"No, mistress. I hardly ever do."

"Good. You do understand, don't you, that what you're doing is wrong?"

"I'm very sorry, mistress, but I need you to explain it. Lots of doctors who write in magazines claim that we should masturbate for the good of our health."

"You get your instructions from us, not from magazines. But I will explain it to you. Free people can do it because, obviously, they can consent to sex with themselves. You, however, don't have the right to consent. We own your body and only we can consent to it having sex. For you to masturbate without our consent is rape. In a sense you're raping us, too, as it is our body that you are abusing."

"I'm so sorry, mistress. I hadn't thought it through."

"No, but there are other reasons too. I told you yesterday that I take pleasure from watching you enjoying sex. I see your sexual pleasure as something I own, and something I can share with Mikaela. If you take some of it and use it yourself, that can only be theft. Even that's not really the most important thing. We need to control your level of sexual frustration. We want you to be needy all the time, to be ready to respond to us helplessly; slavishly. It's vital that we are your only means of relief."

"I understand now, mistress. Thank you, mistress."

"You may understand, but we know that you can't control your slave needs yourself. We could whip them out of you, but that would spoil you. We don't want you to associate sex with pain. We want you to keep wanting it, and not be able to get it, except through us. We want you to feel your cunt oozing, and not be able to reach it. That's why we need to keep you in tight, helpless bondage."

"Phew!" from Mikaela. "You'll have to put me in bondage if you go on like this. What I need is some more wine, and I suggest we release her hands from her collar, so she can exercise her arms before bedtime." Doing that, she went on: "Don't forget that I won't be back for dinner. You'll have to choose the take-away yourself."

The pair spent the remainder of the evening discussing the welfare of Mikaela's relatives in Blackpool, all of whom had either lucrative jobs in various financial institutions, or investments in them, or pensions from them, or all of the above. She was intending to visit her father in the morning, go shopping in the afternoon, have dinner with her brother and his wife, and be back with them by about ten thirty. There were "interesting shops" in the town, and she was hoping to find "one or two useful items."

By eleven o'clock both were ready for bed. Maude took Sally upstairs and, after the usual trip to the loo, fastened her wrists to her collar, removed the sirik chain, locked the strap-on tightly in place, and joined her ankles. Then she put her to bed under a simple sheet- the night being hot and stuffy- gave her a quick kiss on the lips, and left the room. Sally lay on her back, contemplating the peak in the sheet made by the stiff plastic cock on her belt. She had not been allowed to cum since before dinner.

After a few minutes she decided to watch a couple of video clips, since her mistresses obviously thought them important. She had some difficulty grasping and pointing with the remote, but soon the TV was working.

The playlist started where it had left off the previous night, but the first clip was very different. It showed a naked brunette with a voluptuous figure being outfitted by her mistress for ponyplay. The finishing touches were just being put to an elaborate head harness which incorporated blinkers, a rubber bit gag with big metal rings at each side, and an ostrich feather sticking up from the forehead. She wore a deep posture collar that prevented any movement of the head at all, and below that a full body harness framed her breasts and kept her arms folded behind her. She was a well-fleshed girl, though not fat, and the straps made visible grooves. The belt was tight, compressing her waist, and from it a crotch strap almost disappeared into the cleft beneath. When she was happy with the basic fit the handler went back over all the buckles, tightening them by a hole before fitting them with padlocks.

The "pony" was shod with shoes that resembled horses' hooves with very high heels, and were connect by about eighteen inches of chain. The handler, who was much smaller than her charge, clipped reins to the rings on the bit, and began to urge her forward with light taps from a riding crop. The scene expanded to show a stable yard, and just before the clip ended, another ponygirl, similarly attired, crossed the picture at a fast trot.. She was harnessed to a light two-wheeled cart. The driver was a woman, clad from head to foot in a skin-tight red latex suit that left her breasts bare. Sally could understand why, having paid so much for them, she wouldn't want to hide them away.

Tired enough to be sure of sleep despite her frustration, Sally switched off, turned on her side, and knew nothing more until the morning. When she awoke she had no idea of the time. She wished her mistresses would allow her a clock, but presumed there was some good reason why they did not. She tried rolling onto her front and rubbing her strapped on cock on the bed as hard as she could, but without the insert she got very little sensation through the thick rubber belt. She struggled against the wrist cuffs and collar to reach her nipples with her fingers but couldn't quite manage it; one of the downsides, she thought, of having big tits. An attempt to get her chest high enough off the bed to rub them on the surface, by pulling her knees up under her and pushing her hands down also failed.

She was not the kind of person who gave up easily, however. There was a certain inevitability to the fact that when the door opened silently and both Maude and Mikaela tiptoed in, she was kneeling by the side of the bed, eyes closed, moving rhythmically from side to side, so that with each movement her teats brushed the mattress. It wasn't really working. The position of her arms and hands made it impossible for her to really swing her breasts, and even in the most favourable circumstances she would never have achieved release that way, but she was desperate enough to try anything.

"Now you see the extent of the problem," exclaimed Maude with very well simulated indignation. "I think if we put her in a plaster cast every night she'd still find a way to abuse herself."

"Still, that's not the worst idea I've heard this month. Plaster's a bit slow but there are other things. Get her back on the bed; I don't have all day to worry about her moral welfare."

The two mistresses, both already naked, lifted their slave bodily onto the mattress, and mounted her without further delay. Maude took her face, facing Mikaela who quickly smeared the strap-on with lubricant before lowering herself on to it.

"No pulling this morning; they're still sore," she said curtly, and pulled her lover's head towards her for a kiss.

It was very much like the evening before, with the riders reversed, but their style did differ in small ways. Maude's movements were slower, more deliberate, aiming to achieve maximum contact, and then to leave her slave's lips and tongue to do the work. Most of Sally's attention went in to that effort; without the insert Mikaela's bouncing up and down on the plastic penis made little impression on her. Both women were extremely randy in the mornings, she realized, but so was she, and she was getting no satisfaction again. It didn't last very long; Maude came first, and leant forward to hold Mikaela down as she followed.

They left immediately afterwards, and it was at least half an hour before Maude returned. For their shower she used brass chain to confine Sally's hands behind her back and to her waist. She washed her thoroughly, as she had the previous morning, but as the breasts were more exposed she paid special attention to them. When she reached round to them from behind, Sally tried to get her fingers to her vulva, but it was only tolerated for a minute.

"This is your day, not mine. Let's get dry and have some breakfast."

Fighting the Chains

The big white towels came out again, and the repeat performance of the previous morning continued, except that breakfast was taken with Sally's wrists still chained behind her.

"I promised you a day of bliss, so you won't lift a finger for yourself all day."

She was fed with pieces of croissant spread with butter and home-made strawberry jam (from someone else's home, presumably). Cereal followed, with Maude carefully wiping any spilt drops of milk off her skin. Coffee she drank, as usual under such circumstances, through a straw. Afterwards Maude took her to the living room and left her on the window sofa, chaining one of her ankles to a leg.

She returned fifteen minutes later to take her back upstairs and to the master bedroom where, she said, they were going to spend most of the day. First she took her to the bathroom for a wee, cleaning her with her own hands, and cleaned her teeth for her. The collar had been removed for the shower and not replaced; so she locked on a much broader and more shaped posture collar; a luxurious affair with thick, soft, rolled edges that nestled into place under her chin and round the top and bottom of her neck. It was black with a wide red band round the middle, to which were rivetted very large D rings at the sides and front. Sally found it comfortable but very confining; her head was held up straight with almost no sideways movement.

Maude chained her by it to the bedhead, released her hands, made her lie on her back and, putting the steel-faced cuffs on her wrists and ankles, chained her limbs to the four corners of the bed, staking her out. She left very little free play; just enough to make sure that the joints would not be stretched painfully when her weight pushed Sally down into the mattress.

With her slave now unable to do anything but stare at the ceiling, she spent a few minutes arranging bits of equipment and mixing oils, laying it all out neatly on a bedside table.

She brought three chairs over to the sides and bottom of the bed to enable her to work in comfort, and went over to the dressing table where an iPod Classic sat in a Bose docking station. Wanting something that would play softly in the background without being annoyingly trivial, she chose Mendelssohn's Songs Without Words, and then she was ready to begin.

Using sweet almond oil scented with Ylang Ylang, she began to massage Sally's toes, one at a time, taking a good minute over each. Then she spent another two minutes on each foot, rubbing oil thoroughly into the soles. Sally had to consciously relax as she felt the hands moving there; she shared many peoples' automatic assumption that she would be tickled. The touch, however, was firm enough, and the feeling passed. She was still a little relieved to feel them progress to her ankles, which could only receive limited attention because of the cuffs that held them apart.

Progress up the legs was by long, slow, positive strokes from ankle to knee. Sally was now feeling a tingling warmth that followed the hands as they progressed upwards. Once above the knees it was possible for Maude to kneel on the bed and do both thighs together, one with each hand. She was using more oil now, and stopping every inch or so to make little circular motions with her fingers, digging gently into the muscles, feeling the legs stirring in their restraints as she worked.

Her subject was experiencing conflicting emotions. The feelings imposed on her by the two hands together were exquisite. Every time they moved to the insides of her thighs they sent little messages to her pubic area, and while she enjoyed them hugely, she was anxious for Maude to make faster progress in that direction. Instead the hands continued their spiralling zig-zig ever more deliberately, lavishing at least twenty minutes on that area alone. As they approached what she assumed to be their goal, her feelings became ever more intense, and she felt that she would explode at the very moment that the first finger entered her portal.

It was not to be, just yet. At the very moment that the oily fingers first brushed against the outer labia, they changed direction, moving outward over the hips towards the waist. Sally was now squirming in Maude's grasp, trying in vain to open her legs further and push the openings down for her attention.

"Please mistress, please! Put them in me, please!" she cried in despair.

"Shhh; the longer you wait, the better it will be. Don't speak without permission! Do you need me to gag you before I continue?"

"No, thank you, mistress. I'm sorry! Please go on, please!"

So she did, pushing her fingers under the waist chain, kneading the flesh of Sally's midriff and hips, but mercifully not advancing further up to her chest. Instead she went lower again, until she was on either side of the opening, pulling the flesh open and pushing it back together, She was surprised at the amount of movement that Sally was achieving by pulling her knees up the few inches that was allowed to them, and rocking them from side to side to try to get more sensation out of her tormentor's hand movements.

Maude made a mental note to chain her more tightly next time, or possibly to strap her limbs to rigid splints. Finally, after some minutes of continuous massage, she slipped three fingers into the orifice that had for some time been oozing moisture onto the sheet. Her thumb went against the sphincter; it was oily enough to penetrate easily but there was no need. Sally was now wholly animal. Groans, cries and howls came from her mouth, while her chains rattled and jangled as she jerked and bucked against them. The knee movements were now so rapid as to be almost a vibration, and all Maude had to do to keep the storm brewing was to push harder and hold on. For good measure she used her other- left- hand to push down on the top of the vaginal opening, making swirling motions to stimulate the clitoris.

Sally's body seemed to undulate, waves passing up and down its length as the sensations found the only outlets that her bondage left available. It went on for longer than any orgasm that Maude had ever experienced or witnessed, even in video simulations, and afterwards she was not at all clear whether there had been one, two or even more in succession. Whatever the score, she was satisfied that the exercise had been a success, and as the shaking body in front of her began to recover some of its humanity, she stretched herself onto it and planted her mouth on the still gasping lips.

After a few minutes" kissing, she relaxed and lay on top for a while, noting that the chained arms and legs were still flexing and pulling gently, as if Sally was almost subconsciously testing the restraints, or, possibly, was hoping to be released. That was not going to happen any time soon. She pulled herself back onto her knees and off the bed, to sit on one of the side chairs. Recovering her supply of oil, she massaged the locked hand and, deciding to take the lazy way out, moved up her forearm before getting up again to sit on the other side, and repeat the process. She had to do the same for the upper arms, massaging the biceps very firmly indeed, conscious of her responsibility for her slave's physical fitness.

She could not do the throat because of the posture collar, so she moved straight to the breasts. It was possible to do both at once, of course, by kneeling over Sally's head. The latter was forced by the collar to look straight up into her privates- for she was also naked- but could not raise her head to make contact with them. Maude lavished oil on the mounds, until they were slick and glistening under her hands, and she rubbed, squeezed and manipulated until the surface wetness had been absorbed.

She left them, rising and falling as excitement began to mount again, to move onto the stomach, and then to the area immediately below, which she pulled and pushed as she massaged, forcing the slit below to repeatedly change shape, like the mouth of somebody tasting something unfamiliar. A little dribble of liquid appeared as feeling was rekindled, and new supplies of moisture expelled what remained of the previous spouting.

When she was satisfied with her preparations, Maude changed her position enough to lean down and taste the new fountain, and to push her tongue in towards its source. With both hands on the bed to keep herself steady, she worked with mouth alone, but her subject had never descended far from the peak of a few minutes previously, and had no difficulty reaching the heights again. The rigidly collared head could do nothing in return, of course, so all Maude got for her efforts was a very wet face, but it took only a moment to turn and place her own crotch firmly on Sally's mouth. She bounced gently up and down, with little twisting motions at each low point, and it was only a very few minutes before she achieved her own release.

It was eleven o'clock; time for a break, and Maude put on a dressing gown and went downstairs to make coffee. She returned with two mugs and a long, flexible tube to use as a straw. She removed the posture collar and replaced it with the usual steel faced one, and that allowed Sally to raise her head enough to suck up her drink, and swallow it without choking. When they had finished she took the mugs back to the kitchen, saying that she was going to check the mail at the same time. She was therefore gone for a few minutes, and when she returned she was naked except for a strap-on.

The chained girl's eyes followed her as she prowled round the bed, looking for patches of skin that had not been properly oiled; stopping now and again to rub a little more in. The spread-eagled body now glistened all over, almost as if glazed, and the spicy odour of the Ylang Ylang filled the room. She stopped to put an extra pillow under Sally's head, and, then, satisfied that all was as it should be, she climbed on the bed and lay on top of her.

She spent a few moments relishing the feeling of slipperiness; indeed she almost slid off as she pulled herself back and forth with her hands gripping the bars of the headboard. The pillow was pushing Sally's face up to hers, and she kissed her very deeply, before reaching down and guiding the dildo into her. The immediate effect was on the lips that thrust themselves up against hers, the tongue seeking- demanding- entry into her mouth. For long minutes the kiss was the centre of their world, the slowly moving dildo adding to the intensity rather than acting as a distraction. Sally could hardly move at all, and the muscles of her legs and torso were tired and weak from fighting the chains, so she responded to the thrusting rod mainly with her mouth.

As Maude gradually increased the pace, the mounting excitement seemed to be flooding Sally's whole body. Maude was helping the process by manipulating her breasts, alternating between squeezing and kneading them with her hands, and pinching the nipples between her thumbs and fingers. She had hoped to keep the build-up very slow, and she was maintaining a very low tempo with her thrusts, but she could soon feel Sally's chest pushing up rhythmically against her own not insubstantial boobs.

It was a clear sign that she was not adhering to the timetable; that she had returned to her pre-coffee level of arousal with astonishing speed. The dildo was still moving quite slowly when the first orgasm came. It manifested itself by a shuddering in the torso, a jerking, spasmodic tugging of all four limbs against the restraining chains, and the mouth leaving Maude's to gasp for air, the head pressing back into the pillow to fight for space. Maude let her have it, but as peace gradually returned she made no move to withdraw. Instead she waited for a few minutes, occupying the time with one of her sealed-lip kisses.

Soon she was moving again, starting slowly, but this time she was able to gain a little more speed, but not much, before Sally came again. After that they both lost count, and it was two exhausted women, sodden with oil and sweat, who finally fell asleep, one on top of the chained body of the other.

Maude woke first, and in the process of climbing off the bed she woke Sally. The latter was all aches and pains, all her limbs having fought their chains for what had felt like hours on end. Her body felt utterly spent; never in her life had she experienced as many orgasms in such a short time. Maude undid her ankles, locked them together and to the bed, and released her arms. Struggling into a bathrobe she told her to exercise her arms while she went to make lunch.

Sally tried to make the best use of her freedom that was consistent with feeling like a washed-out rag. The aches in her arms soon eased, and she lay limp on the bed, waiting for her mistress to return. She was not sleepy, and soon began to realise the source of her unease. She was now so used to bondage that it felt somehow wrong to have her hands free. She jerked her legs, as if seeking reassurance from the feel of the cuffs pulling on her ankles. She had a significant wait before Maude came back, sat her up, put the cuffs back on her wrists, and locked them behind her back in the usual way. She released her ankles, leaving the cuffs in place, and helped her off the bed.

Sally was very unsteady, and needed constant support on the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. A special lunch had been set out; lots of little snacks and canapés with small pieces of a delicious pork pie; presumably the product of a local butcher. There were some very sweet cherry tomatoes and slices of avocado, and some Southport potted shrimps. Most of the food was in bite sizes, fed to Sally in Maude's fingers. She was allowed to choose anything she wanted, with her mistress taking her own food while she was chewing or drinking. For the latter there was champagne, of which she took only one glass, continuing with fresh-squeezed orange juice. Asked whether she was enjoying her lunch, she ventured to add a question.

"It's all delicious, mistress. Did you prepare all this yourself?"

"Of course not. Most of it came from Marks and Spencer's, and the pork pie from the village. Mikaela picked it up yesterday. I cut up the pie and the avocado. That's about as much work in the kitchen as I usually manage. It always seems to me that you can buy such good food nowadays, cookery is largely redundant. Are you missing home-cooked food? Would you like to add kitchen slave to your other duties?"

"No thank you, mistress. I love the food that we eat here. I wouldn't have the strength for any more duties."

"I can't see why you'd be short of strength. It can't be that hard lying around enjoying yourself all day. You probably need more exercise. But I don't really want home-made food, so the job isn't really open."

Dessert was a sherry trifle. Eating it was a bit messier, but Maude kept her face wiped regularly. Then they moved to the sitting room for coffee. The conversation- very one sided- was mainly about sport. Sally learnt that her mistress was a keen follower of a number of martial arts, although on that subject she seemed to nurse a number of feminist grievances.

"Did you see any of the women's wrestling during the Olympics? Isn't it outrageous that they had to use a male type of ring? Women have always wrestled in mud, but they had to kowtow to the men's way of doing it to get into the competition at all. I was going to write to The Guardian about it, but Mikaela said they would ignore it. I thought they were supporters of women's rights."

"Guardian readers often put their own spin on things, mistress. Some might argue that men like women to wrestle in mud."

"Why does it matter what men want? Men didn't want us to vote, so we couldn't do so for centuries Now you say they do want us to wrestle in mud, so we can't do that. They don't know what they want, and don't care as long as they can boss us about. There's no point in feminists setting goals for women; they just move the posts. We just need to get away from this situation in which the approval or non-approval of all female behaviour is male-referenced."

"Yes mistress. I'm sure you're right, mistress."

"No you're not. Don't patronise me, girl, or I'll tan that hide of yours. Now let's have a turn in the garden before we go back upstairs."

Sally had recovered enough energy to walk unaided, although she wondered what toll another session upstairs would take from her. Wearing the poncho again, she was led out onto the lawn, and her mistress repeated her inspection of the new plantings.

"Yesterday's rain worked wonders; though a couple of the smallest seedlings got washed away. I think we're OK for another few days now."

Sally listened and made the right noises from time to time. Despite yesterday's experience, it still seemed odd to be outdoors in chains. She knew that the garden was private, but still could not shake off the mental image of a neighbour- probably holding a pair of shears- appearing over a hedge to pass the time of day. It also felt cooler than yesterday. The storms had left the air much fresher, and the breeze on her oily skin felt strange. Still, it was not actually cold, and it did revive her more. The tour took them down through the alpine garden by the stream, out onto the lakeside, past the boathouse and back through the vegetable garden. Half an hour later they were back in the house, and Maude led the way, first to the toilet, and then back to the bedroom.

For the afternoon session Sally was spread-eagled on the bed again, but this time face down. Most of her body was supported on cushions and pillows that were placed under her head, shoulders and midriff, reducing the weight on her breasts. Her abdomen was propped up a little higher, so that her bottom stuck up more than nature had intended, and the valley between her buttocks faced the foot of the bed. Maude spent a few minutes adjusting pillows to ensure that every part of her body was comfortable, and began the massage, as before, with her feet.

The formula was the same as the morning's, but she moved a little less slowly, and lingered a little in the valley before leaving it to work on the shoulders. There she took longer, kneading firmly enough to extract the odd groan from the prone slavegirl. She was also very thorough as she moved down the back, alternating between her fingertips and the heels of her hands, with plenty of oil to reduce the friction on the skin. The journey from the shoulders to the small of the back took twenty minutes, but eventually she reached the buttocks.

The tactics changed then. She first flooded them with oil, and then began with very light, large circles, almost but not quite tickling them. She left the circles to spiral slowly towards the centres, and having reached them, began to massage the mounds, squeezing the flesh a handful at a time, again moving in a rough circle. When she was satisfied, and the buttocks shone bright pink with the rubbing and the oil, she abandoned the heights for the valley. For the time being she made no move to enter either of the caves that were displayed so invitingly before her, but let oil dribble over them, stroking up and down the sides with gentle movements of the thumbs of both hands.

She could feel Sally trying to push back against them, but there was almost no free play in the chains, and all she could do was to wag her bottom up and down just a little, and clench and unclench her muscles, until she realised that it was probably counterproductive. Maude was listening to the breathing, and the little whimpering sounds, for a more accurate guide to her subject's state of mind. When she saw liquid oozing between the pussy lips, she eased three fingers in, and simultaneously let her thumb slip into the anal opening. She kept that still, a little relieved to feel no potentially dislocating spasms, but kept the fingers moving, using the whimpers as a guide, until she felt he vaginal muscles responding. Then she began using her other hand to slap each buttock alternately, quite hard. It was the decisive move. Sally came, her body shaking in waves that passed up and down her body from crotch to shoulders, but they were very small waves; the tightness of the chains made sure of that. Most of the burst of uncontrolled energy was expelled through her mouth.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Aaaahr," and further contributions along those lines lasted for half a minute or so. Maude, no admirer of bad language, regretted her decision not to use a gag, but continued to work her fingers, although she stopped the slapping. Waiting for a period of relative calm, she changed hands, putting the thumb in the vagina and two fingers in the rectum. as she moved them in and out she squeezed the flesh between the two openings, and, when she was sure that all was going well, slipped in a third finger. Sally responded to her greatest anal challenge to date with gasps of pleasure and renewed attempts to push down against them. The second cumming began two or three minutes later.

Afterwards, Sally felt that she could sleep for a week. Maude went to wash her hands and get some fruit juice for them both. Then they did sleep, the slave still face-down in her chains, her mistress lying the "wrong" way, using her buttocks for her pillow. There they remained for nearly an hour, until Maude woke, wondering for a moment why her pillow smelled of Ylang Ylang. Then she roused herself, walked over to a chest of drawers and took out a strap-on penis, which she put on and lubricated. Positioning herself between Sally's legs she eased the erection into her sex, trying to get it right in before the sleeper woke. When that happened it was, not surprisingly, with a start and a yelp, and a rattle of chains.

Sally had been dreaming about canoeing down the St. Lawrence. It was not an accurate representation, since she had neither visited that river nor been canoeing anywhere, but it was interesting. She had been waiting for some time to see the face of the man paddling in the bow, enjoying the rippling of the muscles in his bare back as he propelled the boat forward. He was just turning to look back at her when she was distracted by a sudden leak in the boat, that caused an unnaturally powerful jet of water to strike her private parts. Nevertheless she forced herself to look up to see the man who excited her so.

He had disappeared, along with the boat, the river, and the Canadian countryside. Only the pressure between her legs remained. The new reality began to crystalize. She was not in Canada; she was in Cumbria, and she was staked out prone on a bed being ravished by a lesbian with a strap-on. After a few moments of regret for her lost world she began to appreciate that something might be saved from the wreck.

The penis, however artificial, felt good, and the bed was more comfortable than the bottom of a canoe would have been. Quite apart from the motion down below, the closeness of Maude's body was comforting and stimulating, as her breasts stroked their way up her back, and hands reached down to where her own hung between the pillows. She felt lips and a tongue nuzzling the back of her neck above her collar and her ears, and she tried in vain to turn far enough to meet them with her own.

The thrusting was constant, relentless and accelerating now, and Sally's arousal was mounting just as quickly. She remembered, now, that just before she dropped off to sleep, the thought had crossed her mind that her passion had been spent- squandered- so thoroughly that she would not be able to cum again for at least a week. Oh, well, at least another thirty seconds, she thought wryly.

She tried to make it last longer, to enjoy the feeling of fulness that was suffusing all her lower abdomen. There was very little that she could do for herself, except to use the tiny amount of movement that her chains allowed, and Maude could do as she pleased. It pleased her to keep increasing the pressure, and Sally had no safety valve. It was actually about three minutes before the obscenities began once more, to quickly dissolve into meaningless gasps as every ounce of strength was poured into the fruitless task of heaving and jerking against the chains.

As the pace slackened Maude slowed but did not stop, and as she speeded up again she put all her weight on Sally's back and reached under to grasp both nipples between thumbs and fingers. This time there were no words; just a deeper, partially strangled groaning. For the third crescendo she let go the nipples and grasped the breasts firmly, manipulating and squeezing hard. For the fourth she reached right round the waist and down to the clitoris, stretching and squeezing with her fingers and thumbs, and, at the very peak, rubbing it with the surplus length of the waist chain. After that one she decided to stop: Sally was wheezing and gasping for breath and her own arms and fingers were aching. She rolled off, discarded the strap-on, and lay down beside her until both were breathing easier.

Neither woman could have said with any certainty whether or not they slept again, but Maude somehow became aware that it was five o'clock. Rather reluctantly she released the other's wrists and locked them behind her and to the waist chain. Then she released her ankles, helped her off the bed and took her into the en suite to answer the call of nature. Sally could hardly walk, and the stairs were negotiated, for safety's sake, on her bottom. Soon she was established on the sofa by the patio door, with her ankles locked to an eighteen inch spreader bar. She seemed inclined to go straight to sleep, but Maude had a question for her.

"Since it's your day today, I'll let you choose dinner. We've already had Indian and Chinese this weekend, and the only Thai within reach is closed today, so I'm afraid that it's kebabs or fish and chips. Which is it to be?"

"Mistress, I'd like fish and chips, please."

"Are you hungry now?"

"I'm getting there, mistress, but I'm also so tired I don't know what to do with myself. I had no idea that it was possible to feel so much pleasure in one day, mistress."

"Don't worry; I know what to do with you. And there isn't really any limit, though we'll do our best to find one. Now; I'll have to go and get the food, and there's often a wait at the chippy, so I'll be gone at least half an hour, probably. I'm going to leave the patio door open a little, so if the house catches fire you can get out. When we went for our walk earlier I made sure all the garden gates were locked, so you can't get any further."

"I don't want to escape, mistress."

"You can't. What you want has no bearing on it. That's the point."

"Yes, mistress."

Maude went off to get dressed and to run her errand, and as she heard the garage door close Sally had that feeling of exposure again. She was alone in the house, naked and helplessly restrained, lying in front of an open door. How secure was the garden? She wondered, but not for long, for above all she was sleepy. The next thing she was aware of was her mistress shaking her awake, and the delicious aroma of chip-shop food. She was helped into the kitchen, waddling awkwardly because of the spreader bar, sat down at the table, and fed.

There was haddock, scampi, mushy peas, chips and a big, greasy sausage, with white wine to wash it down, and she discovered that the day's activities had given her a voracious appetite. Her mistress, who had landed herself with the job of putting the food in her mouth a forkful at a time, did not fail to notice.

"How can you eat so much without getting fat?"

"I don't usually eat so much, mistress, but I expect that I've burnt a few calories today."

"I don't see why. As I said earlier, you just lie there enjoying yourself while I do all the work. We'll have to make sure you get some proper exercise while you're with us."

Ice cream and raspberries were produced from the freezer and the fridge for dessert, and finally, coffee was accompanied by Tia Maria and chocolates that were hand made by a shop in Keswick. As they finished Sally had to relieve herself: Maude locked her to the toilet and freed her hands. The ankle bar made it a bit more difficult, but not much. She was left for at least twenty minutes during which, presumably, the dinner things were cleared away, Eventually the two women were comfortably established on the sofa, Sally's hands once more behind her. Maude had undressed again and snuggled up amorously against her, but soon realized that her slave was virtually asleep, and settled down to a nap herself.

Sally awoke to find her lower lip being plucked between both of Maude's, and the latter's hands grasping at her breasts. She would have preferred to have been left to sleep much longer, but knew that the call to duty had to be answered. When she responded, her mistress moved up to present her breasts to her mouth and tongue, while stimulating herself by hand. After a few minutes of that Maude moved up further, to let Sally finish her by cunnilingus. Then she turned and knelt for a while, quietly enjoying the pressure of her slave's mouth in her sex.

As soon as arousal returned, she dropped into the "69" position, using one hand to pull the spreader bar towards her, forcing the crotch open. Sally was convinced that she was beyond reaching another climax that day, but the combination of sensations- the taste and scent of the soft flesh against her mouth and her mistress's considerable oral skills- overcame her exhaustion.

Afterwards the two women did not resume their former position, but simply shifted a little to lie against one another, each with her head resting between the legs of the other. They were still there when Mikaela came in, loaded with packages.

"Good God Almighty! I suppose you two have been at it like rabbits since I left this morning! If you could spare a moment to get me a glass of wine, Maude darling, I need to wind down a bit before bedtime."

She was disrobing as she spoke, and while drinks were on the way she took the vacant place on the sofa. Sally was still dozing, but returned to consciousness to find a tongue invading her sex, and was a minute or two before she opened her eyes and saw that it belonged to her other mistress. Mikaela was only doing it to wake her up. As soon as she had got her attention she pushed herself up, kneeling on her face, and rubbed herself against her mouth, moving back and forth, and occasionally in a circling, grinding motion. Meanwhile she reached down with her hands to stimulate herself, and, with these combined efforts, came very quickly.

She didn't move afterwards, but took a glass of white wine from Maude and sipped it, enjoying the contrast between the cold, sharp taste on her palate and the feel of the warm tongue squirming in her sex. Eventually she relented, and they all sat side by side with their drinks, Sally's being placed, as usual, on the coffee table with a straw in it.

"I brought back a few things that might be useful," she said to Maude, speaking across Sally. There's an adjustable chastity belt that takes inserts, and a locking double-dildo gag. I also picked up a kind of double manacle, that holds both wrists rigidly. We don't have to use them all this weekend, of course."

"We'll try the manacle now," decided Maude. "She's had her hands behind her all evening, so a change will do no harm."

They stood Sally up and removed her wrist cuffs, allowing her a minute to swing her arms. The new device was simple: it comprised two heavy, three-inch bars of stainless steel, each formed in the shape of two half-wrists, two inches apart. They were joined at one end with a stout hinge, and when closed with the wrists inside them, they locked automatically and could only be opened with a key. What made the design special- and difficult to manufacture- was the fact that the wrist channels were angled to allow the wearer to keep his or her arms straight, making them more comfortable for long-term use.

"They seem to fit well enough, though they should really be made to measure," said Mikaela when they were locked in place. "The weight could be a problem. I think the designer probably wanted the wearer to feel the burden, but they might spoil her posture by making her round-shouldered. They could be made in carbon fibre or even plastic, but so many people like the look of iron on slaves, and that would be even heavier."

"I like the steel; it inspires confidence, and I like the way the lock's designed so that she couldn't reach it even if she had the key," replied Maude. "The weight will be an advantage when we use them behind her; it'll pull her shoulders straight."

They all sat down on the crescent sofa with a bottle of wine. Sally could still drink normally with her new restraints, though it was obvious that eating would be more awkward. Her two mistresses chatted about the way they had spent the day, talking across her as if she didn't exist. It was obvious that both were very tired, and had no intention of putting her to their use before bedtime. She was surprised to find herself relieved. During the day she had experienced pleasure and excitement beyond her most erotic fantasies, but she was now drained and flat, hoping only to recover enough, quickly enough, to give them satisfaction when they demanded it from her. Two or three times she nodded off, but each time she was nudged back into wakefulness.

"She doesn't seem to have much stamina," remarked Maude the last time it happened. "She has such an easy life, while I slave all day to keep her amused. It doesn't seem right, somehow."

"Fresh air and exercise; that's what she needs," was Mikaela's prescription. "You're both as bad as one another. I come home to find you fast asleep on the sofa, while honest folk are out walking, jogging, gardening, riding etc. And do you realise that both your sofas now smell of Ylang Ylang? Are we running a massage parlour?"

"I forgot to put towels out for her to sit on. They need steam cleaning anyway."

They carried on with their light-hearted bickering until it was decided, by mutual consent, that it was bedtime. Sally was allowed to sleep with them, still manacled and with her feet chained loosely together and to the foot of the bed. They made her wear the strap-on, in case they needed relief during the night. She was sandwiched between them, and within four or five minutes she was aware that they were both asleep. Sally was almost too tired to sleep, and she spent the next quarter-hour reflecting on her situation.

Of one thing Sally was certain: she could not possibly go back to her old life when the weekend was over. Having tasted something different- something so much more exciting- she realized how insufferably dull it had been. If her mistresses rejected her she would have to find others, but she did not think that it would happen. She was not vain enough to think herself unique, but she thought she was unusual, and that Maude and Mikaela would not embark lightly on a search for someone with her submissive and accepting personality.

Sally knew now that there would be a great deal more for her to accept. She had agreed to be Maude and Mikaela's sex slave with only the haziest notion of what it would mean. What she had really wanted was a lesbian relationship with Maude. The condition had been that, in order to avoid creating conflict between the two established lovers, she would be shared between them, and would always be in bondage during sex. It had been a novel and exciting prospect, but she had not expected to be helpless virtually all day and every day.

Now she strongly suspected that her mistresses' relationship had always been a pretext, although they may not have been aware of that themselves. To both of them, bondage was an end in itself, not just a means identifying her as a sex-slave. Nor was it a means of stopping her escaping. In slightly different ways, they both revelled in the effect of rope, rubber, steel and chain on the human body. They loved to watch the way she moved in restraints, and were determined to keep her in some form of bondage for twenty-four hours a day. They were interested in the effects of long-term restraint on her limbs, muscles and joint. It excited them to know that they could use her for their sexual pleasure at will, and that her breasts, vulva and bottom were always available. Maude, especially, loved to watch her struggling in chains as she orgasmed, her soft, voluptuous body contrasting with the hard, unyielding steel as she writhed and thrashed under the torrents of ecstasy that coursed through her helpless body.