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The following morning Forbes appeared in the dormitory looking rather the worse for wear. From the pinkness of his skin he looked as if he had stood in a shower for half an hour to shake off the effects of the previous night. His brow was slightly furrowed as though he was using the muscles in his temples to keep the top of his head from falling in.
The morning inspection was perfunctory; the girls happy to be excused his usual attentions. It was after he’d finished checking each of the kit layouts in turn that he told me I’d be checking up on the progress that Clegg’s people had made for another report to the Colonel that evening.
I didn’t expect there to have been much activity since the day before but I guessed that Forbes was simply keen to get what he saw as a disruptive influence away from the other girls without him needing to do anything.
Luckily, when I logged into Clegg’s network, it turned out that they had picked up the first two already and I was able to spend my time writing that up in a report for the Colonel.
The reports of Clegg’s operations teams made scary reading. The blunt, matter-of-fact tones in which Harry’s people wrote up their post operation notes made you realise just how little they thought about the consequences of their actions. L101’s the forms were called. Everyone hated them and even Harry didn’t push people if they were a bit late in getting them in unless it was an important job. You could tell a lot about the person filling the form in from the way they wrote it. Usually the better and more competent the operative, the simpler and more straightforward the L101. “Flowery language usually means a fuzzy mind,” Harry always says. I could imagine that the Colonel would agree with him.
The L101 for the first pick up bordered on the terse. “Potato #1 and #2 arrived on time, #1 driving a Porsche 944, now garaged as asset #07/00989” it began (field operatives always refer to their targets as “potatoes” because they get “lifted”), “and both appeared to have completely accepted the legend we’d given them and were following their script exactly.” (“Legend” was the term for the deception used to entice a target to a venue; “script” was the set of actions the target had been directed to follow or was expected to carry out.” P1, known by my research work to me as Barbara, had been invited with her friend to discuss a possible TV role. Already known as a presenter on Belgian TV, she’d built up a reputation for schmoozing the Belgian jet-set and was renowned for her spiteful, arrogant treatment of hotel staff, restaurant waiters, and the like. We’d had no trouble finding folk to fill us in on her foibles and weaknesses. P2, Isabelle, had a similar attitude by all accounts but she’d got her position and money from a series of advantageous marriages. They had become friends a few months earlier and were often to be seen together drinking and partying in the smarter clubs of Brussels and Antwerp. The two of them, the legend had suggested, would make the ideal couple to front a series to be called “Inside L.A.” and, subject to a very confidential discussion, they could both find themselves in receipt of a substantial fee and with the opportunity to shift up a notch in international celebrity ranking. At a venue chosen by Harry’s team the two women arrived in time to be greeted by drugged drinks, two of Clegg’s transport boxes and an appropriate quantity of ropes, straps and mouth sealing tape.
They wasted no time consuming the drink so it wasn’t too long, according to the L101, before the other items came into play. “It was hard to tell,” the L101 said, “whether the anaesthetic was strictly necessary or whether the amount of alcohol consumed alone would have been sufficient for our purposes. Both girls showed an enthusiastic acceptance of hospitality that speeded the process of lifting.”
The collection of Patricia, Katherine and Helen – well Countess Helen to give her the proper title – was a bit more of a problem. The research reports showed that all three of them led a hectic social life. It hardly seemed like there was any time when it would be possible to get them alone, and that included night times when all three enjoyed a procession of boyfriends through their bedrooms. One possible opportunity presented itself when Rick’s research team identified that the three of them had been invited to spend time in the Aegean on the yacht owned by Helen’s uncle. Freddie’s team soon established that the three of them had fallen into the sort of routine that always presents opportunities for a lift. The days were spent sunbathing on the yacht’s foredeck. Even through binoculars it was apparently easy to tell that the girls had been upsetting the crew; demanding they take time out to fetch them sun cream, to find towels, or to fetch them drinks. As the sun set came they would head off in the yacht’s tender to the nearby port in search of an evening’s clubbing. The boat would wait there, often until dawn when they staggered back to the jetty, usually the worse for the evenings drink. Whichever unlucky member of the crew had been assigned to ferry them across got to wait around – usually in one of the harbour side bars. Typically they’d be gone from the yacht for six or seven hours. That gave Harry’s team plenty of time.
Patricia, Katherine and Countess Helen were grabbed before they got to their first club, according to the L101. “P1 grabbed when she emerged from a bar while the other two were still inside using the washrooms. P2 and P3 went in search of their friend and split up. P2 collected as she entered the alley at the side of the same bar. P3 (Countess Helen) was followed and lifted as she took a short cut around the back of one of the clubs. She took a little longer to subdue being rather more athletic than her friends. Sounds of the music spilling out of the club masked her squeals. All three girls were stripped, bound gagged and shipped out from the port to our own boat. Meanwhile the yacht tender was taken, driven out of the harbour and up towards a rocky headland where it was scuttled, together with some of the girls clothes and belongings.” The L101 indicated that reports in the local paper suspected that the girls had returned to the harbour, taken their boat out in a drunken state, overturned it and drowned. Their analysis suited Clegg’s organisation.
After a few hours on the PC I was able to reassure the Colonel that all had gone according to plan and that Clegg’s operation had the five women that he had requested in their hands. With that done, I was able to take a few moments to think about my own problems.
After the indignities that Tsai Linn had suffered after coming to my defence I felt that the least I could do was to apologise to her. I sought her out while she was cleaning in the kitchen, taking the chance to slip away from my work while Forbes had sneaked out for a cigarette around the back of the house. “I’m so sorry about last night, Tsai Linn,” I said.
“Not for you to be sorry,” she said, smiling in a reassuring way. “Not your fault at all. Those other girls. Most unfair. I think such behaviour is most incorrect. We may be slaves here but we are not animals. We should look after each other. Mylene, Angie and Lucy need to know they cannot bully others with impunity.”
As we finished our conversation Mylene and Lucy came into the kitchen carrying piles of dirty plates in from the dining room.
“Hoping to set up another kinky session, Anderson?” sneered Lucy. I ignored her. “Or did you enjoy yourself so much you want another go, Tsai Linn?” The girl from Hong Kong simply smiled at her but then went on with her work.
Forbes voice called from the corridor outside. “Dobbs, Connor, Banks!” he shouted. “At the double!” Lucy, Mylene and Angie put the plates down and dashed out in response to the call.
“Don’t worry,” said Tsai Linn. “Their bad behaviour will not go unrewarded.”
I never did work out exactly how Tsai Linn managed it but Lucy, Mylene and Angie all suffered unfortunate incidents over the next few days, resulting in punishments from Forbes.
After Lucy had been ordered to clean the living areas the discovery of a stale sandwich lodged behind one of the cushions on the couch brought her up before Forbes and the Colonel on a charge of dereliction of duty. Sentenced to twenty five strokes from Forbes’s cane, she spent the next two days unable to sit or lay on her back.
Mylene had discovered that Forbes hardly ever used the downstairs lavatory and had managed to disable the smoke detector that was fastened to the ceiling. She had even somehow been able to swivel the lens around on the CCTV camera so that its field of view was restricted sufficiently to allow her to sneak in there to enjoy one of the cigarettes she stole from either Forbes’s or the Colonel’s supply. Unfortunately the camera lens somehow got pushed back and Mylene was confronted with the video evidence of her wrong doing. Another beating left her bruised and sore.
Angie had been accumulating a secret stash of chocolate bars. Forbes enjoyed all sorts of chocolate but was particularly fond of large bars of dark, cocoa rich, chocolate that reminded him of his times in Central America. Angie had managed to steal half a dozen bars. Taking one at a time, only stealing a bar when there were six or seven in the pile in Forbes’s room and only taking them when Forbes had been out on one of his merry drinking sprees. She had hidden them behind a cupboard in one of the unused rooms. Somehow they found their way into Angie’s locker, only to fall out at Forbes’s feet during a kit inspection. She was summarily taken to the gym, strapped to the wall bars and thrashed by Forbes who was furious at the theft.
As was always the case all the girls were assembled to watch the punishments. Throughout Tsai Linn watched impassively. The others didn’t seem to bother her or me after that.
Who did bother me was Forbes. That evening he announced I was assigned to be assigned to the Colonel’s “relief duty” and I had a pretty good idea of what that would involve. The others all looked grateful. After Forbes had seen all the others into their beds he escorted me up to the Colonel’s quarters. Basher was already in bed, lying on his back in monogrammed pyjamas, a sleep mask over his eyes.
“That you, Forbes?” he barked as we came in.
“Sir!” Forbes exclaimed.
“Fine. Who’s on relief detail this evening?”
“New girl, Sir. Cadet Anderson.”
“Fine, fine,” Snell responded. “Might as well make use of her while she’s here. Set her up and then you can go.”
“Yes, sir,” said Forbes. He pointed to the floor beside the Colonel’s bed and had me kneel down. Reaching under the bed he pulled out a short length of chain and looped it around my neck before fastening it with a padlock. It didn’t take much thinking about to realise I wouldn’t be moving any distance from where I was until the chain was unlocked.
“That’ll do, Sergeant,” the Colonel said as the padlock clicked shut.
Behind me I heard Forbes snap himself to attention. “Good night, Sir,” he said and the door closed.
With Forbes gone I stayed put, not that I had much choice, hoping that the Colonel would doze off without requiring my services. It was a forlorn hope. “Anderson,” he barked.
“Yessir, Colonel, sir,” I responded.
“Don’t shout girl, I’m trying to get to sleep here. Now you won’t know the drill so here it is. You take your pretty little fingers and see what you can find inside my pyjama trousers. Just make sure it stays stiff until I get to sleep. Never could sleep without a good pull. And watch your finger nails too. They way some of you girls go at this I could be scarred for life.”
“Yes sir,” I answered quietly, reaching up to untie the cord of his trousers. I was quite surprised to discover he was completely shaved. (“That’s one thing he’s never asked any of us to do,” said Tsai Linn when I mentioned it to her.) Whether years of masturbation had worn it down or not I’ve no idea but it took me some feeling around to find his cock.
“Good grief girl, stop fumbling and get on with it,” Snell complained.
“Sir!” I said, gripping hold of the short stubby projection that I’d finally managed to get hold of. Almost at once it started to grow. With surprising rapidity a penis that had felt not much larger than my own thumb, swelled to four times the thickness and five times the length. That I was having the desired effect was clear from the Colonel’s breathing which had become deeper and more rhythmical. I’d been forced to jerk off some of Clegg’s guards many times of course and the sexualisation programme had made me practice for hours at a stretch (well at a squeeze as well, really) but what was surprising was that once the Colonel’s erection was fully formed he just seemed to lapse into a relaxed state with no sign that he was approaching orgasm. No matter how I squeezed, pulled, teased or stroked, the Colonel continued in his half asleep state, his cock rigid in my hands. At the slightest sign of slacking on my part, the Colonel was quick to encourage me to renew my efforts and to remind me that Forbes’s cane would surely await any failure to continue.
Eventually after an hour or more, the sounds of the Colonel’s heavy breathing were replaced by the unmistakable sound of snoring. Finally I felt able to stop, allowing his cock to shrink back. I slipped down beside the Colonel’s bed, clutching my aching wrist, almost sobbing with the pain in my fingers. As I did so, taking the weight from my knees, I realised that I had been kneeling for so long that my knees and legs were virtually numb. I toppled over to lay on the floor, the chain to my neck just long enough to allow me to lay down. With the pain in my joints almost enough to make me cry out I curled up as best I could to try to sleep. It wasn’t helped by the constant sound of the Colonel’s snoring.
I slept fitfully but eventually fell into a deep sleep which was only disturbed by the arrival of Forbes the following morning. He helped the Colonel into his wheel chair and then unchained me. “Off you go Anderson,” Forbes said. “Plenty to do today.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” I said trying to stand as smartly as I could in spite of the aches in my mistreated limbs.
As I left the Colonel’s bedroom I heard the Colonel say to Forbes, “Not too bad, that one. Seems to have a bit more strength in her wrist than some of those girls. You can have her on relief duty again, soon.” Not for the first time I was sorry to have done such a good job.
The Colonel was quite insistent. “I want a detailed report on the training of all of these girls,” he said. “I’m sure Clegg’s people can set it up so you can do it from here.”
He was right of course. All the training rooms back at the Prep Centre had CCTV and Rick was able to set up a link with the Colonel’s PC so I could follow what was going on. Some of it made pretty unpleasant viewing, especially knowing that I was responsible for the girls being there.
Here’s the first part of my report on Barbara, for example:-
Barbara’s first training session
followed immediately after she was put through the Centre’s admission process.
It was clear from her responses that she objected to being weighed, measured
and fitted with her collar. She failed to cooperate with the admissions clerk
by providing the necessary personal details for her files. As a consequence,
her gag was replaced pending use of more intensive interrogation techniques.
She was still wearing the dress that she had on at the time of her abduction –
a long, cream dress in an off-the shoulder style - but by now it was streaked
with stains and the skirt was torn as a result of the treatment received during
her capture. She was sitting on a solitary chair in the middle of one of the
small training cells, her wrists still bound behind her and her mouth taped
shut.
She looked up at the arrival of the
chief trainer. I could see from her look that she was impressed by his
appearance. Always a smart dresser, he was wearing a black Armani suit over a
black open necked shirt. Barbara looked at him as much as to say, “Hmm, if
you’re my captor, maybe this won’t be so bad.” She was cocking her head to one
side in a way that invited the suspicion that she was flirting. He pulled the
tape clear of her mouth. She straightened herself up. He appeared pleased by
the view this afforded him of her breasts and cleavage.
“You seem like a man of taste,” she
said.
He looked at her for a moment. “I have
that reputation,” he replied. “Although unfortunately, for you my dear, I also
have a reputation for ruthlessness and my primary interest at present is to see
that you are properly prepared and trained.”
“I can see you know what you want,”
Barbara responded. “I admire that. I might even confess to being aroused by a
ruthless and handsome man. Why don’t you free me and we can see how we can
amuse ourselves.”
The chief trainer gave her a tolerant
smile. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t think you’ve yet understood how things
work here. I just needed to be satisfied that you would be ready to start this
morning. My admissions clerk had some difficulty in getting the required data,
I understand.”
“I’m not keen on talking to minions,”
Barbara said with a smile. “I prefer dealing with the boss.”
“So I see,” he replied. “No matter. I see
no reason why we cannot proceed. We will talk again soon, I am sure.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” Barbara
said. Ignoring her, he replaced her tape gag and left the cell. I knew what
would happen next. I knew she was under estimating her captors. I knew that
they would just see her flirtatious approach as another tool to break her.
It didn’t take long for it to start. One
of the orderlies that clean the cells appeared, carrying a bucket, broom and
shovel. Barbara, ignored him as he swept around her, peering disdainfully at
him, in spite of the fact that her wrists were tied and her mouth taped shut.
He finished his sweeping and turned towards her. “Hey,” he said, “you’re the
new cunt, ain’t you?”
She looked back at him with shock. He
grabbed her by her arm and half dragged her, half threw her across the room to
a mattress that lay on the floor in one corner.
“Let’s see if you’re any good,” he
smirked, pulling at the belt of his trousers. He looped it around her neck
earning a terrified look in return. “I think you know what I want,” the cleaner
grinned as he pushed his trousers down. She shook her head in protest. He
reached forward and pulled off the tape that gagged her.
“No, stop,” she said, as the gag came
clear. “Your boss, he was just here, talking to me. He won’t want you to be
doing this.”
The cleaner laughed. “You’ve got a big
mouth – it needs filling.” He reached behind her head grabbed a hank of hair
and twisted. The pain made her squeal. He laughed, his cock stiffening at the
sound of her distress. Her eyes widened as he pulled her head towards his
crotch, pushing his thick salty member between her protesting lips. She gagged
and choked as he thrust against the back of her throat. He came quickly,
pulling clear of her mouth, leaving a trail of his cum, dripping from it down
onto her dress. She coughed and moaned as he pulled his trousers up, only to
see one of the man’s colleagues appear at the door of the cell.
“Hey Ted,” her assailant called. “You
finished cleaning out those sluices?
There’s a new piece in here. You wanna try her out?”
“No, please,” begged Barbara.
“Why not,” said Ted, stepping into the
cell and unzipping his coveralls. He took her the same way, holding her head
hard against his crotch as his cock throbbed inside her mouth. Ignoring her
struggles and choking grunts, he kept up a constant stream of chatter with his
friend. “Did you see the game last night? Yeah, rubbish weren’t they. Have you
heard if the new valves and pumps are in yet? Those sluices are in a terrible
state! Fuck knows what I had to wade through to clear that last blockage. Is
this the only new piece or have we got some more new toys around the place this
week? You up for a drink when we get off? Yeah? Great. Still gotta get on, I
guess.” And with that he climaxed, pushing more cum into her mouth and down her
throat. As he let go of her head she fell back, coughing. He reached down and
pulled at her skirt, using it to wipe himself off. Then he looped a length of
chain around her neck, fastened it with a padlock and then padlocked the other
end to a ring set in the wall. “There you go darling,” he said. “We wouldn’t
want you wandering off before the other guys have had their go, would we.” Barbara looked up in horror as the two men
left the cell, locking the door behind them.
By the third day she appeared completely
disorientated by the abuse. Still chained by her neck to the wall, the remnants
of her dress and underwear hung in tatters from her body. She would look up as
soon as anyone entered her cell, opening and closing her lips like a goldfish
in the expectation that she would be expected to use her mouth to pleasure
whoever was next to confront her.
Working with the CCTV meant I could check up on the progress of any of the girls as they went through their initial training. As well as getting them used to being used sexually, the Prep Centre tries to give them some basic household skills. That’s a problem for some of the women that are brought in, especially if they’ve come from a privileged background like the women that had been collected for the Colonel. Take Isabel for example…..
“Day 5: Isabel completed her basic
sexual orientation training yesterday and now seems able to take partners
orally, vaginally or anally without resistance. In spite of her large mouth
which indicated a potential talent for oral sex, it appears that she is
relatively inexperienced in that area and will need further practice if she is
to move from initial reluctance through acceptance to proficiency. However it
is recognised that this is of relative unimportance in her planned position.
Work has started on domestic training and has already encountered problems due
to her background. First difficulties occurred when she was instructed to put
on her overalls so that she could complete a cleaning duty assignment. At first
she refused to do this claiming that the uniform was demeaning. Although her
trainer pointed out that this was the intention she continued to object,
earning a beating.”
Beatings form an important part of the
training approach although Clegg’s team are careful not to allow it to become a
ritualised focus for the trainee. Some slaves have been found to suppress their
resistance to training by using the pain of beatings as a demonstration of
regard by the trainers for their trainees. To avoid this punishments are
frequently given without warning and with as little ceremony as possible. All
of Clegg’s training staff carry whips or crops for this purpose.
“Day 8: Patricia, Helen and Katherine
have all been introduced to training in domestic duties as requested. Together
with Isabel and Barbara they all now accept that they wear domestic uniforms
and carry out cooking, cleaning and other housekeeping tasks. Focus has been on
the use of repeated punishment to develop their levels of performance in the
tasks assigned. Helen has had most difficulty with laundry and wardrobe tasks.
All five girls were paraded in their uniforms this morning and now seem to be
taking orders and carrying them out without question. Work has continued to
break down their sense of individual personal identity. This has involved the
use of punishments for all for the mistakes of any individual and by adding to
their uniforms. All five have been carrying out their duties while wearing
identical blonde wigs and identical latex face masks. The use of corsets,
padding and shoes with different heel heights has enabled all five to present a
closely comparable physical appearance. Staff only refer to them as “girl”,
never by name or in any other way that might allow them to identify themselves
as individuals. This approach seems to be having the required effect. Today’s
tasks were completed without the need for additional corrective punishment.
To the outsider, the training methods used by Clegg’s operation must look like random acts of cruelty, brutality and humiliation. In fact Clegg’s team have pioneered the use of psychological techniques in the development of their slave training programmes. Unfortunately, though, the techniques are often employed by staff that don’t have a degree in clinical psychology and, what’s more, have a pretty boring life and need to find ways to amuse themselves to fill up their days. As a result, training sometimes goes further than the programmes might need and since, behind their face masks, the girls all have their mouths taped shut the trainees don’t have too much opportunity to object.
All the girls were given special fitness training to cope with the Colonels particular needs after the Doc had provided some feedback on the RSI suffered by the first shipment. Patricia and Katherine, for example, were encouraged to exercise by being chained in chairs with only the hand that they would use for masturbating the Colonel free. They had a replica penis secured to the desk in front of them. The girls had to follow a strict routine of changing techniques designed to ensure that different muscles in the wrist and hand were exercised. Failing to follow the prescribed sequence earned them additional punishment points from the ever watchful trainers. In time the two developed the ability to maintain their masturbatory activities for long periods without the risk of stress to their muscles and joints. I reported to the Colonel on their progress. He was pleased, he said, hoping that he would find their performance a great improvement.
Unsurprisingly some of Clegg’s team were only too happy to help the girls to improve both their stamina and technique and to help them become oriented to their role as sexual playthings. One of the sessions involved all five of the girls, all still wearing their identical face masks and wigs, being brought together into a room with five of Clegg’s team. Each was encouraged to draw from a deck of cards. Each was then subjected to the sexual attentions of one of Clegg’s men in a way that corresponded to the suit drawn. Drawing a heart resulted in the woman being fucked. Spades meant she would be taken in the arse. Diamonds that she’d use her mouth. Clubs that she’d use her hands. The men found the rounds of repeated assaults amusing, as much for the luck or otherwise of each other as for the misfortune of the girls.
When the youngest of Clegg’s men found himself being wanked yet again by one of the girls rather than fucking one as he had hoped, the rest of them gathered round, clapping their hands to try to encourage the young man’s penis to respond.
Of course, his embarrassment was relatively minor compared with the shame and degradation suffered by the girls but Clegg’s men were hardly renowned for their compassion in such matters. As far as they were concerned it was all part of getting the girls ready for their new lives and making sure that their own team members knew what was expected of them too.
Yesterday the truck arrived to deliver the five new girls. The Colonel had created an ingenious way of housing his new acquisitions. In the centre of a barn just behind the house he had arranged for Forbes to put up a large glass walled box. “My girl tank,” the Colonel announced when I saw it. “Thought you’d like to see my new toys installed.”
Each of the girls was wheeled in, strapped inside her transport crate. They were taken into the barn, freed from their crates and then herded, still handcuffed of course, naked and gagged, into the aquarium. Cowed by their training, they offered no resistance to their captors as they were manhandled into their new accommodation. Both of the delivery men seemed to pay particular attention to Barbara. Neither seemed ready to leave her until they had enjoyed groping her tits for a final time. The smirks that both men wore as they left the aquarium showed how much they enjoyed their work.
The girls in the tank looked around in confusion, whimpering quietly through their tape gags and with all five girls imprisoned in the glass walled cell, Clegg’s men got the Colonel’s signature on the shipping documents and left.
It was only as we were about to leave the barn, with the girls in their glass cell now struggling in dismay and distress at their new situation, that I noticed the low door in the outside wall. I asked Forbes what it was.
“That young lady,” he replied, pleased to be showing off the results of his ingenuity, “is the new security system for our guests. Just look at this.”
He took me to where the Colonel was sitting observing the girls on the far side of a wire fence that stretched across the barn between the girl’s box and the door. He unfastened a rope from its cleat and began hauling on it. As he did so the door slid up. I was puzzled, not seeing how opening a door actually improved security.
A few moments later my confusion evaporated as first one, then two, then all of the Colonel’s vicious guard dogs, slunk in under the door which obviously led from their enclosure. They paced around the barn, sniffing and peering at their new surroundings. I could see that the girls in their transparent cage were terrified by the arrival of these slavering beasts. In spite of the fact that the girls had tried to stay as still as they could the dogs realised that the central, glass-walled, cage was occupied. Used to being fed by the others, the dogs now obviously felt these newcomers should be seeing to their comfort as well. They began snarling, barking and jumping up at the glass box. The girls tried to back away from the dogs but there was barely enough room for them all in any case and the more they did so, the more the dogs simply circled around snapping and growling. One of them came across to peer at us through the wire fence and bark but then decided that the contents of the glass box were more interesting and returned to that.
Only when the girls became completely still did the dogs stop their circling and drop to sit quietly. The slightest movement from within the cell set the dogs off again, barking and jumping up at the glass.
The Colonel gave a self satisfied grin. “That seems to be a satisfactory security arrangement,” he said. “Well done, Forbes.”
“Thank you, Sir,” said the Sergeant, saluting in acknowledgement of the Colonel’s praise. “I’ll leave the dogs’ feed until the morning, Sir, if that’s all right. It’ll help them keep their minds on their job tonight.”
“Quite right, Sergeant,” said Snell. “You get on now. I’ll just sit and watch for a while. Always fascinating to watch wild life, don’t you know? When you’ve got your girls sorted out you can bring me one of the new girls to try out. I like the look of that one with the big tits for a start.”
“Yessir,” said Forbes, saluting. Leaving the Colonel to watch his girl tank, Forbes told me to round up the others for a project he’d been planning. In a few minutes all of us were lined up wearing our uniform fatigues, waiting to discover what new piece of lunacy he had in hand.
“Right,” said Forbes. “Colonel wants to try out one of the new girls. Here’s how we’ll organise things. Dobbs, Banks, Connor you’re trained as Dog Handlers. Dobbs and Connor, you make sure the dogs are on their leashes. Banks, take a leash and muzzle and bring out the girl from the aquarium. Barbara, it is he wants. The one with big tits. Not natural if you ask me but the Colonel didn’t and I suspect he doesn’t care. Bring her out on all fours, that way the dogs won’t mind so much. Dobbs and Connor make sure the dogs are under control. Banks keep the new bitch away from them. Anderson, Tsai Linn, when she’s been brought out, you two can take her up to the Colonel. Understand? Any questions?”
“No, sergeant,” we all chorused.
It was hard to tell who was more scared. Mylene Dobbs and Angie Connor were standing in the compound desperately trying to hang on to their snarling, slavering charges while Lucy Banks walked across between them towards the glass cell, not daring to take her eyes off of the dogs in case they should break free of their leashes or just pull their handlers over. Once inside the cell, she fitted Barbara with her own collar, leash, head straps and muzzle. Once Barbara realised that Lucy intended to take her out of the cell and across the compound she began struggling and it was only Forbes’s bellowed order to give her a slap from the leash end that subdued her sufficiently to allow her to understand what was required of her. Lucy led her back across the compound on all fours; Barbara staring around in terror at the vicious looking animals. The dogs, puzzled by this new animal in their midst, watched as she crossed the room, giving only an occasional sniff, snarl or bark before she reached the door and Lucy escorted her away from them.
Forbes, Tsai Linn and I were waiting when Lucy brought the crawling Barbara out. She looked up at us, whimpering through her muzzle. Forbes took her leash and whacked the strap across her buttocks to silence her. He handed the leash to me. “Take her up to the Colonel,” Forbes ordered. “Private Linn, you are responsible for ensuring our newcomer is made ready and secure for the Colonel.
When we paraded into the Colonel’s room with Barbara muzzled and on all-fours, the Colonel pronounced himself delighted. “Ha,” he said, “that’s the way to treat a bitch. Good idea. Whose was that?”
“Sergeant Forbes, sir,” said Tsai Linn.
“Thought so,” the Colonel said. “Just his style. Like the idea though. Got enough troops around the place with you girls. What I need are some pets. This will make a good start.” He reached over from his bed and patted Barbara on the head. She swung her head up in response and tried to object but the gag in her mouth turned her objections to a growl. “Well, they’ll all need some training, I suppose. Still, this one will do to keep me company tonight.”
“The Sergeant said we should make sure she was secure, Sir,” Tsai Linn volunteered.
“Quite, quite,” said the Colonel. “Well get on with it. “You’ll find restraints in that kit locker.” He waved to the cabinet beside his bed.
Tsai Linn looked bashful, but didn’t move. I realised what the problem was. “It’s just we weren’t sure what to do about her hands, Sir. Her being new and us wondering how we should leave her as no doubt you’d want to, err, make use of her. Tonight.”
“Quite right Cadet Anderson. Good thinking. I’ll tell Clegg you’re up for a commission if you carry on thinking like that. Let’s see.” The Colonel appeared lost in thought for a few moments but a stirring under the blankets from around his groin showed that his thinking was having a result. “Right,” he said suddenly. “Here’s the drill. Cuff her hands behind her. Cuff her ankles. Lock her collar to the chain that’s linked to my bed. She can sleep on the bed. She’ll be quite safe with her muzzle on.”
“Yes sir,” said Tsai Linn, relieved not to have had to come up with the ideas herself. For all her slight build she was very strong and easily wrestled Barbara’s wrists behind her back while I found the handcuffs and ankle shackles in the kit locker. Barbara was growling into her muzzle as we put the restraints on her.
“One more thing, Private Linn,” the Colonel went on. “You’re an eastern type after all.” Tsai Linn looked at him impassively. “You know this Chinese bondage style?”
“Shibari?”
“That’ll be it. Too intricate for me to bother with most of the time. Looks quite decorative, I suppose. Just takes too long.”
“It’s a very ancient way of doing things, Colonel. A Japanese art,” Tsai Linn replied.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Chinese, Japanese, all east of Suez as far as I’m concerned.” The colonel was becoming impatient. “Still I’ve a use for it now. Tie her tits up so there’s somewhere between them for me to sink my cock. Big ones like those you should be able to make a nice tight groove. Certainly not going to use any of her other parts and I prefer to have my women facing me.”
Tsai Linn looked at me. I nodded to the locker where I’d seen some thin rope. Tsai Linn went to work under the Colonels watchful eye. Barbara struggled as Tsai Linn wound rope around the base of each breast and then stretched it around Barbara’s chest making a harness. As she skilfully tightened and knotted off the different parts of the harness, Barbara’s tits were forced together. Two tit clamps from the locker with a short length of cord between them added to Barbara’s agony but created the ‘tight groove’ the Colonel was looking for.
The Colonel nodded his approval and pushed back the sheets. Inspired by the site of the bound girl his cock was already erect. “Get my little pet up here,” he ordered, “and put her where I can use her tits. Good work Private Linn. That will be fine.”
She struggled as the two of us wrestled her up onto the bed, lying so that the Colonel’s cock was buried between her breasts. A beatific smile spread across the Colonel’s face. Barbara tried to struggle free but the Colonel gripped her by the scruff of the neck and stopped her wriggling. “Very good girls,” he said. “You can dismiss now. Back to your dormitory. This will keep me amused for the night.”
Angie and I were the unlucky ones that had to collect Barbara from the Colonel’s room the following morning. Crouching on the floor, still gagged and chained by her collar to the bed, she looked up in terror as we came in, terrified in case still further humiliations were to be heaped on her. The Colonel had evidently had an enjoyable time. Barbara’s tits looked bruised and sore from where he had been abusing her, the ropes around them coated in the crusty remnants of his dried cum. She looked relieved as we unfastened her from the bed and helped her to her feet with the aim of taking her down to the shower block to help her clean up. We’d only just got outside the door when we heard Forbes bellowing from the other end of the corridor. “All fours! That one goes on all fours or you’ll be joining her in that glass tank.”
“Yes Sergeant,” Angie confirmed. Luckily Barbara offered no resistance. We walked her back to the showers.
While we were helping Barbara to clean up and freeing her tits from the cocoon of rope that Linn had devised, the others of the Colonel’s new intake were being put to work. Although they’d all been trained in domestic tasks as part of their induction at Clegg’s, Forbes knew better than to let them lose on the place without supervision. Mylene was assigned to the housekeeping squad with the instructions that if they didn’t perform she’d be beaten every time they were. That together with her own natural bitchiness was sufficient to ensure that Isabelle, Patricia, Katherine and Helen kept their minds on their tasks. The rest of the girls were pleased to be relieved of the mindless cleaning, cooking and laundry tasks that Forbes seemed to devise simply for the purpose of keeping them busy although of course the continuous job of keeping the Colonel amused still fell to them.
One task that Forbes added to the regular duties of those assigned to the Dog Section was that of training Barbara or Babs as she was to be known – as a sort of regimental mascot for the squad. Forbes took great delight in explaining his plans. “The Colonel is obviously taken with the idea of having this new girl as his pet but I can’t stand the idea of pampered animals around the place. Working dogs – or in this case bitches – that’s another matter. Squad needs a mascot. Might as well be this one.”
Angie, Lucy and Mylene, who were on dog section duties looked dubious. Barbara who was crouched on hands and knees beside Mylene as she held her lead looked worried.
“You three,” Forbes called to them. “You three will take turns at working the guard dogs and training the regimental mascot. She’ll need to be properly groomed of course. Better get one of the others to trick up some sort of ceremonial blanket she can wear over her back. Needs that muzzle polished and a better collar. See what you can find in the equipment cupboard. Oh, and while your at it, give her a tail too.”
The last suggestion caused Barbara to look up in concern. Forbes scowled in response and Mylene jerked at Barbara’s leash to bring her to heel. It was obvious that the three girls assigned to her training were not going to let any fellow feeling for the newcomer cause them to earn any punishments from Forbes.
“Right,” said Forbes, “Carry on. I’ll be back in an hour to see how you’ve got on.”
I was busy on the last bits of paperwork for the new girls up in the Colonel’s office but I had a view down into the barn where Angie, Mylene and Lucy were working on Babs. The other girls were out of their tank, around the house at their domestic duties. The real dogs were all chained up but even so the activities in the barn were attracting their attention and causing a great deal of barking and snarling at the comings and goings as Babs began her training.
Angie went out and came back a bit later clutching a new collar. As she fitted it to Babs’s neck I could see it was one of the broad leather posture collars that were used as part of Forbes’s discipline regime. Angie buckled it around Barbara’s neck and I could see that it made her hold her head back so that as she crouched on her hands and knees she was facing forward rather than looking at the ground.
While Babs was fretting at the collar, trying unsuccessfully to toss her head in protest, she didn’t see Lucy with the fruits of her labours. I wasn’t sure where she had got it from but she had managed to fix a few lengths of string to the base of a butt plug. As she pushed it home into Barbara’s arse it was clear that it gave the girl a convincing tail. Barbara bucked and squealed in response. Mylene thrashed at her buttocks with the leash end to calm her down and then she and Lucy paraded Babs up and down to get her used to her new trappings.
Tsai Linn appeared to take the others out of the tank so that they could start on their domestic duties. All four were led out, chained by the neck one to another, still naked and gagged and followed Tsai Linn across the barn and into the house.
Angie was obviously getting into the idea of training their new charge as she reappeared carrying a dog bowl, a reel of tape and Barbara’s muzzle. She fitted the muzzle in place and I could see that she had added a pair of flaps of leather to the top in simulation of ears. She used the tape on Barbara’s hands, binding them into useless fists, effectively turning her hands into paws. It was obvious that with the muzzle in place, Barbara couldn’t use the dog bowl but that didn’t prevent Mylene pacing her around the barn, bringing her to a halt beside her bowl and teaching her to walk to heel, coping with her newly taped paws and the discomfort of her tail.
I was still working on the Colonel’s paperwork when Tsai Linn appeared with Helen and Katherine under her supervision. Now the two new slaves were dressed in short, khaki, dresses. Although they were still both ball gagged and shackled at the ankles, they were no longer chained by their wrists. “Colonel says these two are to clean up in here,” said Tsai Linn. “Can you watch them while I take others down to clean out shower block?”
“Sure,” I said. I was happy to help Tsai Linn out. She’d been a good friend to me since I’d come to the Colonel’s.
“Thank you,” said Tsai Linn dragging her two charges into the room. “You, sweep and polish floor,” Tsai Linn ordered Helen and then turned to Katherine. “You, dust and clean furniture and windows.” The two new slaves grunted their agreement through their gags and Tsai Linn left, giving me a wave as she headed off to find the other two.
Helen and Katherine set to their tasks. I carried on with mine.
Looking back out to the barn I saw that Lucy, meanwhile, had found an old blanket in one of the hay boxes at the back of the barn. She had draped it across Barbara’s back. I guessed that she would be finding something better but she seemed satisfied that it would do to start with. I could imagine that it wasn’t going to be the end of the ingenuity applied by Forbes and the rest of the ‘troops’ to the humiliation of Barbara and the rest of the newcomers.
With Snell’s new acquisitions fully installed, even he couldn’t think of a reason for keeping me around any longer. Besides, he was pretty preoccupied with playing with the girls’ pioneering project and enjoying his “aquarium”.
Forbes turned up in the dormitory just as I was packing some laundry back into my locker to tell me that I was being shipped back to Clegg the next day.
“I shall miss having you around, Anderson,” he said.
I didn’t feel able to return his sentiment but said, “Thank you, Sergeant.”
“Yes,” he went on, “you have obviously benefited from Clegg’s programmes in ways that the other girls have not. It’s a shame they haven’t had the same opportunities to experience the programmes that you have.” The sexualisation conditioning that I had been through was still experimental, I explained. Only a few of us had been through it so far and the results were still not fully predictable.
“They seem to be in your case,” Forbes said, reaching out with one hand and sliding it slowly across my belly as I stood to attention beside the bed.
His overtly sexual touching had immediate effect as my sexualisation programming kicked in. My back stiffened. I pushed my chest forward. I could feel my nipples hardening as I became more aroused and I could see Forbes’s appreciative look as he took in the shape of my breasts under my tight white tee-shirt. “Yes, Sergeant,” I confirmed, although I hadn’t needed to.
Forbes smiled, showing no sign that he expected me to do anything other than to stand at attention. He cupped one of my breasts in his hand, squeezing and pinching at the nipple through the white fabric. I grunted a pleasurable response, licking my lips, and then parting them to give out a quiet, “Oh!” as he transferred his attentions to the other nipple.
“We need to sort things out for your return, I am afraid,” Forbes announced, evidently reluctant to stop fondling my breasts and showing no sign of stopping. “Clegg’s people will be here in an hour and the Colonel promised them you would be ready for them.”
“I’ve packed all my kit in the locker, Sergeant,” I replied. “I’m – ahh - quite ready.”
“Not quite, I think,” said Forbes, continuing with his groping. “I’m sure Clegg’s people will want you to be appropriately secured, won’t they?”
I suppose that I hadn’t really thought about that. Since my arrival at the Colonel’s I’d been able to wander around quite freely because the house was secure. As soon as Forbes said it, I knew that I would have to be bound or chained before I could be returned. “Yes, Sergeant,” I said quietly acknowledging the situation.
“Good,” said Forbes, with a worryingly cheerful grin. “I thought you’d agree.” He turned to the door and called. “Security party! At the double!” Tsai Linn, Lucy and Mylene came jogging in; Tsai Linn in the lead with the other two carrying bundles of ropes. The three of them came to attention immediately alongside me. “Make ready!” barked Forbes. Lucy and Mylene laid out the ropes in neat coils on the floor.
Tsai Linn came over to me and said, “We have to tie you, Miss Sarah.”
I nodded in acquiescence. “That’s all right,” I said. “What should I do?”
“Please turn around,” Tsai Linn said quietly. “And please put your hands behind your back.” As I did so I felt her take my wrists in a gentle but firm grip, placing them one beside each other with the palms of my hands together. There was something deeply sexual about the combination of gentleness and strictness in the way that she began to wind the ropes around my wrists, slowly tightening and pulling at my wrists. Tsai Linn continued, winding ropes around my elbows to ease them closer together, gently but inexorably. The constant touching and tightening of the ropes became more and more arousing. My sexualisation responses, already primed by the fondling from Forbes, were triggered again by Tsai Linn’s attentions. It was the first time that I had been bound in such an erotic manner. Although Clegg’s people had often used ropes or straps or chains on me, they had always been imposed in a perfunctory manner, purely for the purpose of immobilising me, Tsai Linn seemed to derive delight from the pleasure I took as she tightened the ropes. And Forbes, looking on, looked pleased as well.
In the mean time the rest of the girls had assembled, summoned by Forbes as a final parade. Angie led the way with a reluctant Barbara on all fours, muzzled and masked, with her tail in place and the regimental mascot’s blanket across her back. The others marched in behind and the whole party came to attention in a line behind Forbes.
Tsai Linn turned to Mylene asking her to pass across another length of rope. This she took and wound it around my chest, threading it between my breasts and around my arms, cinching it off at each side to fix my arms rigidly. More rope followed, stretching across my chest, crushing my breasts. As Tsai Linn tightened this, the pressure on my tits became increasingly pleasurable. I began to moan quietly, much to Forbes’s amusement. Tsai Linn carried on, carefully but insistently adding ropes, knotting them so as to immobilise me but in such a way as to create an elaborate pattern of ropes and knot work across my body. Each tightening pull invited increased arousal.
Lucy passed more rope to Tsai Linn. She looped it around my waist and then around my wrists locking them to the small of my back. From my wrists she ran the rope down between my legs and up again to the waist in front. As she tightened it I realised that she had added knots in the rope that stretched across my crotch so that as I struggled I could not avoid dragging the knots across my clit, adding to the increasing crescendo of sexual pleasure that Tsai Linn’s activities were stimulating.
As I panted and squealed, Forbes grinned. Lucy and Mylene looked on in amusement while Tsai Linn allowed herself a look of quiet satisfaction that her work was having the effect it was designed to.
The colonel arrived, propelling himself into the room in his wheel chair. The three girls stiffened to attention immediately. “Very neat!” he exclaimed. “Nice to see you girls taking a pride in your work. Still don’t mind me. Carry on.” He turned to look approvingly at the other girls lined up as smartly as they were and wheeled himself over so that he could pat Barbara, the mascot, on the head. She growled in response though whether it was from anger or a wish to get into the spirit of the role was hard to say.
“Carry on,” ordered Forbes and Tsai Linn, Mylene and Lucy picked up the ropes again.
With my arms, wrists and body tied, Tsai Linn bound my ankles and thighs. The three girls helped me to the floor before tying my ankles back to my wrists. Now if I tried to ease the pressure on my wrists or elbows the rope tugged across my crotch. If I tried to save myself form the crotch rope the resulting wriggles tugged at the ropes that cut across my breast and nipples. There was no way in which I could avoid progressively increasing the sexual stimulation that I was giving myself and my sexualisation programming ensured that my responses were more extreme than anything I would normally have experienced.
As I wriggled on the floor, I knew I was moving inexorably towards orgasm. Forbes looked on dispassionately. “I think she’ll need a gag too,” he said to Tsai Linn as my moaning increased in volume.
“Very good, Sergeant,” Tsai Linn responded, collecting another length of rope. I watched as she doubled the rope and tied a large knot in the centre of it. She knelt beside me and stroked my head. “For your mouth,” she said, quietly, offering the knot to me.
“Mmm, please, yes,” I said, licking my lips, eager to take the knot between them, keen to add another sensation of restraint to my body. My pleas were succeeded by grunts as the knot was eased into place and the doubled rope fastened first at the back of my head and then so that my head was stretched back towards my elbows. I was rolling around in sensual delight, coming closer to orgasm, almost oblivious to Forbes and the girls as they stood watching the effect of Tsai Linn’s elaborate bondage. It was as the first orgasm swept over me that I was vaguely aware that we had been joined by others.
“Mr Clegg said you’ve got a package for us,” it was the voice of the driver that had brought me to the Colonel’s in the first place. “And it looks like you’ve done a good job with seeing that it’s properly wrapped.”
As the crotch rope sawed backwards and forwards with my struggles the knots that Tsai Linn had added caught at my clit. I whimpered into the knots of my gag as my body bucked and the shudders of orgasm swept across me.
“Seems like she’s been having a good time,” I heard another voice say. “She’s well warmed up.”
“My man Forbes has taken great care to see she’s been looked after. You can tell Mr Clegg she’s done a good job,” it was the Colonel’s voice this time but I wasn’t paying too much attention – as the twitching at my crotch slowed, I became increasingly aware of the way the ropes were fretting at my tits and the sensations of tightness and restraint as my body bucked in response to orgasm. I gasped as the waves of spasm began to recede, conscious that I was drooling from my gag, making a growing pool of spittle on the floor.
“We’ve got a crate for her if that’s OK,” said the driver.
“Of course,” said Forbes. “Bring it through.”
I lost track of what was happening as the pressure of the crotch rope snagged insistently, setting me off once more towards orgasm. I barely registered as the crate was brought in, as they lifted me from the floor and lowered me into it, so distracting were the waves of pleasure that Tsai Linn’s bondage (and my sexualisation programming) had managed to stimulate.
It was as the spasms of my second orgasm ebbed away that I became aware of the Colonel’s voice again. “… and don’t think that any of you will be getting her sort of programming either,” he said, “although I might get Miss Linn to exhibit her skills on you two or some of the others for some amusement one evening. Make a note Forbes!”
“Sir!” I heard his sergeant respond.
I realised that all three of the girls were staring down into the crate watching as I struggled and wriggled in my rope cocoon. Mylene’s and Lucy’s looks were a mixture of envy, embarrassment and concern at being the subject of Tsai Linn’s future attentions. Tsai Linn smiled, happy that her skills had given rise to such pleasure.
The driver and his colleague fitted the lid of the case I was in and my journey back to the relatively normal world of the Clegg Enterprise’s offices began. It was only with the jolting that came as the case was lifted that I realised I would have to suffer the effects of the bouncing and vibration of the ride to add to the effects of my bondage during the drive home. I could feel the crotch rope starting its pernicious work again. I just hoped that Harry wasn’t expecting me to do anything useful when I got back to the office.
THE END
© 2007 Freddie Clegg
All characters fictitious.
Sarah and Basher feature in
Freddie’s story “Market Forces” available here.
Download PDF copies of other Freddie
Clegg stories at :
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
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