'Is that one ours?' asked Shannon James, suddenly sitting forward as a tall, thin girl with pale skin and straw blonde hair was led out from the holding rooms by a burly male Restraint Officer, her neck and ankle chains jangling gently as she followed docilely, eyes down.

'If she's number 56, then she's ours,' said the girl's father, leaning forward too, looking at the slim naked female but trying hard not to stare at her small patch of blonde pubic hair. It was hard to see how attractive she was with the red leather gag over her lower face, but she looked pretty enough. Privately, the man was relieved: he didn't want some grim, overweight female like the Sanderson family had ended up with.

'Not before time,' sighed Shannon's mother, also watching the female being led out. 'Does it really take two hours to process them?'

Neither the man or the girl answered.

'Umm, she doesn't look fourteen,' said Shannon as she watched the thin teenager led across the polished floor of the Domestic Slave Center. She was thirteen herself and imagined a naked fourteen year old would look much older.

'She's from Russia,' said Shannon's father, Bob, as if it was an adequate explanation. It wasn't, as his daughter pointed out.

'What's that go to do with the size of her...' the fourteen year old almost said 'tits' but managed to say 'bust' instead, hoping her mother hadn't noticed the hesitation.

'Shannon James!' frowned the girl's mother, knowing what her daughter had meant to say. But she had said it to partly suppress a smile - after all, this guest of theirs didn't look any more developed than Shannon.

'But she isn't very big at all,' grumbled Shannon, looking at the Russian teenager's almost flat chest as her neck chain was secured to a locked hook on the side of the Despatch desk.

'I expect,' said Bob, glancing at his wife Eleanor as he said it. 'Where Svetlana comes from they haven't had a lot of food. That's why she's here for two years. Our way of helping out.'

'She's here to work,' said Eleanor firmly. 'We agreed she should only be with us if she did what we wanted round the house. I don't think we should be helping people get fat. If she went home overweight they'd be jealous.'

'She won't be getting fat, will she?' said Bob, irritably. He knew his wife had only agreed to having a Home Slave if the Russian worked hard. This Svetlana girl wasn't going to be allowed to sit around in chains all day, lazing and being fed for two years. 'But we can hardly starve her, can we?'

'Can I teach her to speak English?' asked Shannon brightly.

'Honey, we've been through this,' said Eleanor. 'She is a slave and slaves are gagged. She's here to work for us in the home and then she can go back to wherever she comes from - hopefully happier and a lot wiser.'

'But she has to understand English, right?'

'Shannon, sweetie' said the girl's mother. 'That's what whips are for. She'll learn quick enough when you beat her - all you have to do is know when to use the whip on her.'

'Eleanor,' breathed the man, looking round to make sure they weren't being overheard. 'Children aren't allowed to whip Home Slaves! You know that.'

'Marlena Anderson lets her girls do it,' said the woman, defensively. 'They've had their slave for six months and she's okay. It's better than what she'd get back in her own country.'

Her husband wriggled a little in his seat. His view - and he understood this wasn't the time or place to air his opinions - was that even as a slave this girl ought to have some comforts, especially a good meal and an assurance that she wouldn't be just whipped for the sake of it. He knew the Andersons: their twin girls Beth and Laura seemed way too cruel for his liking. He also knew areas of Russia had been badly hit by drought and famine and political upheaval, and the granting of two year slave licenses allowed girls like Svetlana to be flown out, given a life for a while and later returned when things had hopefully settled down in her homeland.

Bob knew Shannon and his wife understood that too. But the terms of the agreement were to provide a reasonable home - and in his book that meant making her welcome. Sure, she was a slave but hey, you didn't have to be cruel to them.

'Why aren't they calling us to pick her up?' moaned Shannon, tired of the waiting.

'First of all, they won't call you,' said Bob. 'As a minor you can't take charge of a slave. I have to sign.' He was aware of Eleanor glaring at him. 'And your mom,' he added hastily.

'They have to finish all those forms. Every one of them,' said the girl's mother, with a snort. She worked for a government welfare office and had plenty of forms to fill out herself. In one way she ought to have been understanding but for two hours she had been sitting with all the other families who had come to pick up their Home Slaves and the chairs weren't designed to be comfortable.

'It won't be long,' soothed Bob. Almost before he had finished speaking a panel above the Despatch desk lit up with the number 56. 'That's us, folks,' the man said, glad to be able to get off his butt at last.

The guard at the gate checked their pass and let them through. Shannon was still commenting about Svetlana's chest as they crossed the polished floor. 'She isn't as big as the last one who came through,' she said. 'You should see Mary Lundy's slave - she's big, though not as big as Minnie's slave.'

'And takes a lot of feeding, no doubt,' grunted Eleanor as they arrived at the desk.

The man behind it, a small man with a pinched face, looked up. 'The James family?'

'Bob and Eleanor James, and our daughter, Shannon.'

'Children can't sign,' said the official.

'No, we know,' said Bob. 'She's here just for the experience.' He glanced at the naked Russian, looking down and not at them with her hands cuffed behind her back. Probably she had been told to avoid eye contact, the man thought.

'Does she speak English?' asked Shannon, staring slightly upwards at the Russian girl's gagged face. A standard issue ball gag that was causing her to drool a little, despite the red leather pad covering not only her stretched lips but also most of her lower face.

'She can't speak at all at the moment.' The man with the pinched face gave a shrug. 'Don't know anything about her if it's not in her papers. Most of 'em don't speak English.' He looked down at the papers in front of him and shrugged again with a sigh. It had been a long day and he wanted to go home. This was the fifteenth Home Slave he had processed since this morning and he was tired.

'Long day huh?,' sympathized Eleanor. 'I work for the government too. Hours are awful, aren't they?'

The official brightened slightly at the presence of a kindred spirit. 'Yeah. We could do with another ten Processors here, like me. You know the number of home slaves is increasing each month and they're talking about cutting back on staff?'

'That's just terrible,' sympathized Eleanor.

'Anyway,' said the man, shuffling the papers in front of him.'You have to sign for this one... Svetlana Matsikov. Age 14, duration of home slavery stay two years...' he rattled through what they already knew. Then he looked up at the James family. 'I have to read you the outline terms of your agreement over this Home Slave.'

'We read the documents before we signed,' said Bob.

'Sure. But I have to tell you.' The official took a deep breath and launched into his well-practiced monolog. 'This Home Slave is for the sole purpose of assisting in domestic duties only at your place of residence for the full term of her assignment. She cannot be traded, sold, transferred, altered, marked or scarred in any way. She cannot be put to commercial use, including gainful employment outside the home, medical experiments, the use and sale of narcotics, prostitution or sexual services or for any financial gain for herself or adults in the controlling family. The slave cannot be tortured, starved, victimized or kept in solitary confinement for longer than 24 hours and her punishments must be consistent with the approved code of Home Slave health and safety. She remains the property of the Domestic Slave Center and at any time must be available for checks and examination by qualified and authorized officials from said department or their agents. This slave is subject to all laws of the country but is solely the responsibility of the signing family. Any failure to comply with the terms and detail of the agreement will result in the removal of the Home Slave and may result in legal action against the signees.' He paused from the monologue. 'Do you understand and accept?'

Bob and Eleanor nodded, and Shannon did too, though she wasn't part of this. The man and woman signed where indicated on several forms as their daughter took the opportunity to study Svetlana. The chained girl was taller than Shannon and her flattish chest and short, spiky straw blonde hair suggested more of a boy. Though her tits may have been little more than an A cup her brown nipples were large and with the air conditioning they were pleasantly hard. Shannon looked down at the slave's thin, light pubic hair and could see the shape of her sex quite clearly. It was shock for her to see she had a small, polished steel ring through one of the lips of her labia. Shannon gave a small gasp and Svetlana must have heard her. The Russian looked up for the first time and met the youngster's eyes.

For some mysterious reason that would trouble and intrigue Shannon for a long time to come, a small jolt went through her as Svetlana's large blue eyes met hers. The younger girl swallowed hard and looked away. When she glanced back, Svetlana was still staring at Shannon.

'Hi, I'm Shannon,' said the girl, blushing a little at having a naked, gagged and restrained girl looking at her so intently.

'Honey,' said Shannon's mother as she was signing another document, 'Don't talk to the slave. She won't understand.'

'She has to know who we are.' Bob tried to be conciliatory.

'No, she doesn't,' said the woman a little testily. 'She's here to work. Cleaning the bathroom doesn't require her to know anything about us.'

'You've brought restraints for the slave,' said the official. 'Or you want to hire ours? Returnable within 48 hours with proof of purchase of approved ankle, wrist and neck chains. And mouth restraint, of course.'

Gag, not mouth restraint, thought Shannon. But maybe it was government terminology.

'We have ours here.' Bob picked up the zip bag he had brought with them and patted it. 'The ones the instruction manual recommends.'

'Demands,' corrected the official. 'We don't do recommendations.'

'Sure.' Bob colored up a little.

'You can put them on her in changing room seven.' The official nodded to one side of the large room as he gathered up the signed papers. 'The Restraint Officer in there will help you swap the chains.' He reached to the locking ring at the side of his desk, slipped it open and handed the slave's neck chain to the man. 'She's all yours,' he said and looked back down at the papers on his desk like a man who had moved on another consignment of boxes, not a person.

The Restraint Officer - a cheerful looking black woman - helped the James family remove the department's chains from the Russian girl and showed them how to apply their own. 'Wrists first,' said the Officer. 'You better make sure until you know her, you keep her hands occupied. Stay out of the way. Some of them resent being here and lash out.'

'Mrs Grapelli, over on Vine,' nodded Eleanor. 'Happened to her. Broken nose, can you believe it?'

Bob sighed. He believed it as he had heard the story a dozen times.

'How does she do the work, if her hands are behind her?' Shannon was curious.

'At first you might wanna keep them locked in front and run a short chain to waist belt. Then she can work but not raise her hands too much,' chuckled the Officer. 'Some folk like the slaves to do the work with their hands locked behind them. Kinda slow but safe and enjoyable to watch.'

'But.... that would take her ages to do anything! Shannon shook her head.

'Sure, but safer,' said the Officer as she squatted down. 'Plus, attach her leg chains by being at the side of her, so she can't kick out, back or front.' She demonstrated how easy it was from the side to change them. Svetlana, Shannon was glad to see, didn't try to kick out.

'You got restraining points round your house?' asked the Officer, standing up.

'In every room,' said Eleanor. 'She has to clean every place.'

'Good. The standard twelve foot neck chain should allow her limited range and we do say you oughta keep them neck chained for the first three months in case they want to try and run away. And by her bed, of course so she sleeps soundly.' The big woman snickered. 'Doesn't try sleep walking, huh?'

Shannon was puzzled. 'Why should she want to run away? She wanted to come here, didn't she?'

The Officer laughed. 'Weeell, sweetie... some do, some don't. Some don't like it when they get here, some think they're gonna be mistreated. Some are plain awkward, but there are some who get sent by their families. Guess no one asks them what they want for themselves.'

'That's why she's gagged,' said Eleanor briskly, not wanting to get drawn into long conversations when there was work to be done at home. Slave's work. 'And stays that way. I don't want her shrieking in Russian or whatever language she speaks.'

'She has to be ungagged at mealtimes,' Bob offered.

'Not if we get feeder gags,' snapped Eleanor. She eyed the slave mistrustfully.

Svetlana stared back, eyes unwavering, making the woman look away flustered.

'Guess we should swap her gag now,' said the Officer, picking up the one the James family had brought. 'Hmm, size five. I'd say she'd need only a four. Guess this will stretch her jaw a bit.'

'I wanted it to be efficient,' said Eleanor. 'I read a size bigger keeps them very quiet. Very quiet.'

'Right,' agreed the Officer. 'Now, I'm gonna ease out her gag and I want you, sir - or your wife - to slip your gag in.'

'I'll do it,' said Eleanor with a small smile, snatching the gag from her husband. 'I've been looking forward to this.'

The official gag came out and Eleanor immediately wedged her larger size gag into the girl's mouth, snapping the buckles shut behind Svetlana's head and under her chin. The teenage girl had groaned a little as the large ball sank between her teeth and forced her jaws wider apart but she made no effort to resist. The size five gag came with a lip cover like the one she had been wearing and Shannon's mom closed that with a snort of pleasure. She'd had the leather cover decorated in black with: 'Owned by Eleanor and Bob James, 302 Maple Road,' and it stood out.

'Mom!' protested Shannon as she looked up at Svetlana's gagged face. 'She looks...cheap!'

'She is cheap,' sneered the girl's mother. 'She's a slave. Anyway, it's the fashion. You don't go to anyone's house these days without knowing who owns the slave.'

'It's okay,' Bob soothed his daughter. 'Your mom's right. We can't have people not knowing who owns her. Anyway, she can't tell anyone herself if she gets lost, can she? The gag does that for her.'

'Time for us to go, unless there's anything else.' The woman looked at the Officer.

'Nah,' said the woman Officer, thumbs hooked into her leather belt. 'She looks fine to me, apart from her cape. Can't have slaves naked on the streets.'

'Ohmigosh,' groaned Bob, hitting his forehead with his palm. 'I clean forgot it! The cape's at home.'

'Idiot!' Eleanor snapped, glaring at her embarrassed husband. 'I told you to pack everything. How the hell can we get her home now?'

'She can have my coat,' sighed Shannon, shaking her head at her parents. 'We can fasten it round her shoulders. It should just about cover her pussy.'

'Shannon!' frowned Bob. 'Don't use that word!'

'Let the child be,' grumbled Eleanor, still unhappy with her husband. 'We should be thankful at least she remembered to bring her coat!'

The Officer winked at Shannon and when he saw the girl's coat round Svetlana's slim shoulders did hide the slave's pussy, she cheerfully waved them out of the room.

In the car back, Shannon sat holding the slave's neck chain and soon grew tired of her parent's bickering. They were usually like this: they'd even argued over whether it was better to have a Russian slave or one from some east-European country. The mother had won that argument because she said: 'Russian slaves work harder,' thus overriding her husband's point: 'But some of the Romanian ones look good.'

Shannon didn't care. She wanted one with the biggest bust of all the slaves owned by her friends. It was a bet she had hoped to win and had fervently wanted Svetlana to be some stocky, heavy breasted slave that would stop Minnie McLean going on about how big her family slave's tits were and how no one could have a bigger set of boobs on a slave than Olga had.

Svetlana, sat next to Shannon on the back seat, wouldn't win that bet. She might get the flattest chest prize, or the palest hair, but that was all. Still, she had other qualities and Shannon found herself glancing repeatedly at the Russian slave.

To her equal consternation and pleasure Svetlana was looking back at her - and she appeared to be not entirely unhappy. Then the slave did something that Shannon would never have expected: she winked at the thirteen year old.

'Mom!' cried Shannon before she could stop herself.

'What is it now?' said the woman in front, looking over her shoulder and frowning at Shannon.

'Um... nothing. It's okay.'

With a sigh, Eleanor turned back to face forward, still chastising her husband over his forgetfulness.

Shannon looked at the slave and winked back with a little smile of her own. She couldn't be sure, but she thought Svetlana was grinning behind her gag.

The thirteen year old girl felt a strange sensation swelling in her. She gripped the chain tightly as if scared this strange, pale slave might somehow slip away. But she didn't dare look at Svetlana until they reached home.

---

'Why does she wear chains?' Shannon asked her father as she watched the slave working the vacuum cleaner up and down the hallway, chains at her ankles and wrists and her neck chain padlocked to one of several restraint points fixed firmly to the wall.

'Because... um, she's a slave.'

'I know, but why not ropes, or straps?'

The man laughed. 'You can't tie a slave up. It's against the law.'

'Why?'

The man, who had been reading his paper, put it down and smiled at his daughter. 'Way I understand it, ropes can be tough all day. Cause her to bleed maybe and if nothing else that makes a stain on the carpet. Ropes might cut off circulation and with that gag your mom was so keen on she could hardly tell us and - as some people found - slaves can slip out of ropes or get the knots undone. But most of all it's because she's here to work. Chains let her move round. Ropes wouldn't.'

'Straps,' said Shannon. 'They'd work.'

'No,' responded the man firmly. 'They wouldn't.'

Shannon considered the point. 'Deanna's slave is sometimes strapped. She showed me some pictures. And in that magazine you get, Good Slave Owning, there's some pictures of a slave all strapped up.'

'Deanna Olin? Hmm, must have a word with her father, see how they manage it. But maybe they don't work her as hard as mom works ours.' He returned to his newspaper.

'The magazine,' insisted his daughter.

'Honey, don't believe everything you see in the media. Sometimes, magazines show, um, fantasy stuff. Chains are best,' he reiterated.

'She's finished that part of the hall,' said Shannon, looking at the motionless Svetlana, standing by the cleaner.

'Then go and move her to a new place. Just unlock her padlock,' said the man without looking up from his reading, 'and fasten her up elsewhere.'

Shannon approached the naked slave cautiously, even though she was restrained. The girl was looking at her, almost as if curious and that made Shannon feel strange. 'I have to move you,' said the girl. 'So... don't try to run away, right?'

Feeling Svetlana's eyes on her, Shannon unlocked the neck chain and moved it down the hall, leading the slave - carrying the cleaner - to a new point near the foot of the stairs. Shannon closed the lock and tested it to make sure she had done it properly.

Then, and unsure why she did it, she looked at the slave and their eyes met. Shannon felt a tingle in her, like this was someone important to her. Without thinking she put her hand on the girl's arm. 'Um... I hope you're okay,' she whispered, and then fled, embarrassed.

But from behind the bannister rails at the top of the stairs, she watched the Russian carry on cleaning.

---

Shannon spent a lot of time just watching the Russian girl as she went about her duties around the James' home. If Svetlana wasn't in the room, the thirteen year old listened for the rattle of the slave's chains like some reassuring chime.

Shannon found herself thinking about Svetalana more and more and it began to slip into her conversation at odd, unexpected moments.

With her friend Sondra, it didn't matter so much, though the girl was amused at Shannon's apparent interest.

'It's not that I like her,' protested Shannon when Sondra had pointed out it was the fifth time that day the subject of slavery in the home and specifically Svetlana had been raised by Shannon. 'It's just that... um, we ought to be kind to them. Chain 'em, sure, maybe even gag them but...'

'But you'd like her in bed,' teased Sondra.

'No!' blushed Shannon. 'No way!'

Sondra laughed. 'Double negative, uh-huh. That means you do.'

Shannon blushed deeper and felt her heart flutter. She knew her friend was just having some fun with her but she resolved she would have to be careful with everyone on this matter. She knew her mother had already made comments about the amount of time Shannon had sat staring at the slave working, and had seemed reluctant to accept Shannon's protestations that she just wanted to make sure the slave 'was doing her job right.'

Shannon's mother had said that morning over breakfast, with narrowed eyes when the name Svetlana had slipped from Shannon's lips once more: 'I hope, young lady, you aren't having any strange feelings for her.'

'No, mom,' said Shannon, avoiding meeting those mistrusting eyes.

'Touching her is against the law and totally against the rules in this house.' The mother said sternly. 'We have a slave to work for us and we have to make sure she works hard. Got it?'

'Sure thing,' replied Shannon, hopping off her chair and heading out the door. 'I have to go to school.'

She could feel her mother's eyes on her back - and weirdly, Svetlana's too, as she pulled her coat on.

But she would have to be careful, Shannon reminded herself. She'd heard stories that slaves who get too close to families get taken away. There was even a rumor that one teenage girl who'd been found trying to have sex with their slave girl had been in real trouble, though the end of the story changed depending on who was telling it.

But the one version that jolted Shannon was the bizarre one that the slave stayed but the unnamed American girl was sent away to be a slave herself.

---

Shannon couldn't sleep. The more she thought about what was happening with her and the slave - or what had passed unsaid between her and Svetlana, the looks and glances they exchanged - the more concrete it all became in her mind. For some reason she knew she had to speak to the Russian. She didn't want the female to think everyone was cruel and unkind in this country.

The James girl lay awake in the dark, wondering if she should try to teach her English, somehow get her to communicate. But there was the problem of the gag. Sure, it was only a buckle arrangement with a simple lock to stop the slave undoing it herself, but getting it off and back on would take a few minutes and it was imperative Shannon's mom didn't see it happen - and she never strayed far from the slave, and then only left her alone when Shannon's dad was around.

The only way was to wait until both her mom and dad were out, or one of them was engrossed in something else and that, Shannon knew with a sinking feeling, could take ages.

Shannon half sat up in bed and listened, wondering if she could hear a tinkle of sleeping chain from Svetlana's room, in the basement. But the house was silent. The thirteen year old girl eased out of bed and tiptoed across the floor and opened her bedroom door an inch. She thought she might go to the bathroom and take the chance to go down pause to listen at Svetlana's locked door, but she didn't want to get caught by her mom and dad.

But if nothing else she would get close to the slave and touch her again, put her hand on Svetlana like she did in the hall when the girl was working that time and try to reassure that way. Feeling better, Shannon closed her door and went back to bed, before drifting off to sleep.

---

It was three days after that decision before Shannon managed to corner Svetlana alone, or more accurately, find the Russian house slave in a room where her mother wasn't.

The naked Russian girl was polishing the faucets in the kitchen, her wrist chains jangling as she carefully brought a shine to them.

Shannon could hear her mom on the phone in the living room, laughing and telling her friend Phyllis how good Svetlana was as a domestic slave but only if you whipped her frequently. Shannon grimaced: the slave girl had a lot of red marks across her slender back where Shannon's mom had liberally applied the soft-thonged whip and darker bruises on her ass cheeks from a savage thrashing the girl had received with a riding crop within minutes of arriving at the house from the Center. 'Just to show her whose boss,' Eleanor had said with a frightening, almost manic look in her eyes.

The girl shuddered. She didn't like her mother being cruel. At least, not to Svetlana.

Shannon had even seen her mother whip the slave when she was doing a good job dusting down the stairs. There seemed to be no reason for it. Even her father had added his own unwarranted whipping, lashing Svetlana across her small boobs as she toiled to clean the garage bench with a small brush.

The girl hadn't complained - the gag would have prevented that - but she had stood and allowed the beatings. When Shannon's father had whipped her chest, Svetlana had stood, arms back to expose her front. It was as if she had been trained for it, as if she accepted it as a natural part of her life. She'd even bent over without being told as Eleanor inspected her work, almost as if expecting a beating.

She got it too, more often than not.

'Svetlana,' said Shannon, sliding up to the girl. 'I know you can't understand me but I'm sorry they treat you like this.'

The Russian shook her head. For a moment Shannon thought the naked girl was signaling she couldn't understand, but it didn't quite look that way. Heart beating, Shannon whispered: 'Can you understand me? Do you speak English?'

Svetlana nodded. She winked and seemed to smile.

'Oh,' gasped Shannon. She was about to say something else when her mother walked in the kitchen.

'What are you doing?' the woman asked suspiciously.

'Checking she's working while you're not in the room,' said Shannon as sweetly as she could. It was a lie but it would please her mom.

'And is she?'

'Sure. Doing a good job.'

'Hmm. Maybe, but I think you should whip her as she does it, to make sure.'

'Mom...' Shannon began, coloring up and a panic welling in her. 'I-I couldn't!'

'Why not?'

'I... um, I'm not allowed to. The law says -'

'The law doesn't need to know. She won't tell anyone.' Eleanor laughed, holding out the whip she always carried, towards her daughter. 'You been acting kind of funny with her,' said the woman, eyes narrowed. 'You soft on her? Scared of making a slave do her job well? You want us to have to send her back in disgrace?'

'Course not!' Shannon felt sick. She didn't want to do anything to Svetlana, especially as she spoke English - or would if it wasn't for the big gag with that stupid ownership message on it. But she knew she had no choice. She took the offered whip.

To the young girl's horror Svetlana dutifully bent forward, over the sink, red marked back exposed. She braced herself as if she knew exactly what was coming.

'Make it five lashes, and hard,' sneered the mother cruelly. 'That pale skin of the slut's needs colored up.'

The word slut annoyed Shannon. 'Mom...' she began to protest, but stopped. It was an argument the teenager couldn't win.

'Honey, lots of girls your age want to whip slaves. You ask your friends. Unless you're scared - or weird.'

'I'm not anything.' Shannon shot a look at her mother, hoping she might be spared from this. It was one thing to have a naked slave working round the house - and maybe if she was incompetent, then whip her - but it was entirely different simply whipping a hard working female simply for your own pleasure.

'What are you waiting for?' Eleanor scowled at her daughter, holding the whip aloft but not moving.

'N-nothing,' said Shannon. She took a deep breath and brought the soft thonged whip down over the Russian girl's back. The thwack resounded round the kitchen and red marks appeared instantly on the chained female's pale skin. Svetlana flinched and let a gasp escape from her gagged mouth.

'That wasn't hard enough,' snorted Eleanor. 'Start again - that one doesn't count - and do it harder!'

Shannon felt sick. She brought the flogger down harder and this time Svetlana jerked harder, gasping into her gag and clutching her hands into a tight ball.

'Better,' said Eleanor. 'Now the next four... no, make it five more. Six of the best from my darling daughter's hand.'

Shannon didn't know how much the slave was suffering but she was in torment herself, barely able to stop the tears welling in her eyes as each time the thongs splayed on Svetlana's back and the lash rang round the kitchen. Eleanor was chuckling and Svetlana groaning and sobbing into her gag. Shannon, fearing her mother would be dissatisfied and she would have to do it again to the slave, made each of the strokes as hard as she dared.

Then, equally worried her mother might think she was too soft on the slave, Shannon added one more lash of her own, and handed the whip back to her mother, saying: 'And one from me for luck.'

Eleanor laughed. 'Good. I thought you were being too soft on her, like you thought she had feelings.'

'No way!' laughed Shannon, hiding the well of anger and sadness she felt deep in her. 'I hope I can give your arm a rest by helping out with her flogging.'

Eleanor nodded, looking more pleased with her daughter than she had for some time. She lifted her arm as if to lash Svetlana again but the Russian had overcome her pain enough to continue her work. The whip was lowered and Shannon stepped out of the kitchen, giving one last glance at the chained female and her back now covered in bright red weals, seeing tears drip from her nose as she continued her work.

---

Shannon felt bad about what she'd done but didn't get any bad feelings from the slave.

Over the next few days Shannon contrived to get as close as she could as often as she could to the slave, passing as close to the Russian girl as she dared and on the few occasions she felt they weren't being watched, allowing her hand to brush Svetlana's pale, bare flesh.

Whenever she did, a strange shock would tingle through the American girl making her heart beat faster.

They made eye contact often but frustration began to mount in Shannon: she lay awake at night, contemplating how she might get even closer to the slave girl. She wasn't sure why it was important, but Shannon knew it was.

However, it was a further two days before Shannon finally got Svetlana alone. She wouldn't have done, if her father hadn't been called out unexpectedly, telling Shannon to 'keep an eye on the slave until your mom gets home.' That, Shannon knew, might be an hour away if she was lucky.

Svetlana was in the kitchen, hand-washing some of Eleanor's underwear (as the woman said: 'we never have to use the washing machine at all these days!'). Shannon watched her father drive off, waited a few minutes and then went to the kitchen. Without a word she stood behind the Russian and unlocked the gag and unbuckled it, pulling the ball free from the thin girl's mouth. It came out saliva wet, with a plop.

Svetlana looked startled but her face dissolved into a smile as she turned. She flexed her jaw (the gag only came out at her meal time, alone in the basement, twice a day) for a minute before she said, quietly: 'Thank you, Shannon.' She pronounced it as Shan-non, which the teenager thought was sweet.

'I had no idea you spoke English,' said Shannon. 'Nobody told us.'

'They did not ask, and would not want to,' said the Russian in her thick, slavic accent. 'I am a... slave, from leaving my village a year ago.'

'A year? But you haven't been here that long.'

Svetlana shrugged. 'I was, how you say, trained for this. A special camp for women, uh, girls like me. We are whipped many times, so we do not scream here.'

Shannon's face turned red. 'I-I'm sorry about the whippings. My mom is a bit harsh...' she blushed deeper. 'And the one I gave you. I didn't want to, but...' She wasn't sure what to say.

'Do not worry,' Svetlana smiled. 'I am glad you obeyed. Your mother is owner of me. She does what she thinks she must, and I have been trained.'

'But I hurt you!'

Svetlana laughed gently. 'Not as much as you thought. I play-acted, pretended, yes?'

Shannon couldn't help grinning. 'So... I could have done it harder?'

'It was not in you to hurt me too much, devochka moya.'

'What?' asked Shannon.

Svetlana laughed. 'Devochka moya means my little girl in your language.'

Shannon blushed. 'I'm not your... um, little girl.'

'Then I call you milaya moya. That is, my sweet. Go on, you say it.'

'Um, mi-layer moy-uh.'

'No. Mi-lay-a moy-a.'

The young teenager shrugged as it didn't matter but said it anyway. Despite having her hands chained in front of her to a belt the Russian girl clapped, her wrist chains tinkling. Shannon blushed more, feeling a curious sensation well inside her. She liked this girl, more than she thought possible.

'You have a question about me,' said the Russian, suddenly serious.

'A question?'

'I should say, a confusion.'

'Um, I'm not sure. I don't know what you mean.'

'You do not know to treat me as friend or slave. Between, perhaps.' The Russian slave held up her chained wrists as far as the belt chain allowed. 'You could free me, Shan-non, but will not.'

Shannon blushed again. 'I can't free you. I just wanted to talk to you. You know...uh, apologize.'

'There is nothing to apologize for milaya moya, I am a slave here. I wear these to show.' She gestured with her hands at herslef, setting the chains rattling pleasantly. 'Yet I am more to you. You have feelings. You feel a warmth towards me.'

'Warmth? Oh right... I like you... but...' The younger girl fumbled the words out. She hadn't expected her feelings to be out in the open so soon.

'You want to be close to me, am I not right?'

Shannon gasped. This was not what she expected - and yet something stirred in her.

'Closeness is important, milaya moya. Is it not?' The taller slave girl was leaning towards Shannon.

Before Shannon could answer there was the sound of a car on the drive. 'Your mother,' said Svetlana, urgently. 'Come to see me in my room, tonight, when all are asleep. Gag me now and whip me, to turn your mother's suspicions away. She fears us.'

'Whip you?'

'Yes. Hurry!' Svetlana picked the gag up and pushed it at Shannon. 'Silence me now!'

Inside a minute Shannon had the gag in place and grabbed the whip by the side of the slave. The first lash sounded with a loud slap across Svetlana's sore looking back as the front door opened.

'Take that,' sneered Shannon, connecting with a second lash just as her mom appeared at the kitchen door. 'And be more careful with those clothes in future! Hi Mom, just reminding our slave to do the washing better.'

'Good,' purred Eleanor, setting down the groceries. 'I was thinking of treating her to a lashing myself, when you've finished, honey.'

'That's great' said Shannon, not believing it.

---

The basement was silent and dark when Shannon eased her way down the stairs at three in the morning. The girl stood in the dark, listening for breathing or the sound of chains moving. Or worse, her parents coming down the stairs too, but they appeared to be deeply asleep.

She had taken the keys from where they hung by the locked door. She would have to remember to replace them later, she thought.

For a moment she thought Svetlana might be deep in sleep too but there was the slight rattle of chain by the simple bed she slept on. In the dark Shannon made her way over to the bed, feeling it just before she barked her shin on it. There was a faint 'mmmphing' sound from the slave's gagged mouth and in the dark Shannon managed to locate Svetlana's head and find the back of the gag. It wasn't easy getting the lock off and the buckle out but it came free after a few anxious minutes.

'Thankyou,' breathed Svetlana.

'It's okay,' said Shannon settling on to her knees by the bed. 'I wish I could take your chains off but it's too risky.'

'You have been very bold, brave for me,' said Svetlana, her face close to Shannon's. 'I would like to reward you, milaya mora.'

'Reward? I don't know what you me-' she got no further as the slave's lips met hers. It wasn't a passionate kiss but it was soft and tender. A jolt like no other went through Shannon. She pulled back and leapt to her feet. 'I-I can't...' she blurted out and turned and fled back to the stairs, back to her own room, remembering to lock the door and fumble the keys back on the hook.

---

'Where's the slave?' said Shannon at the breakfast table, looking round.

Shannon's mother scowled but didn't say anything.

'In trouble,' said Bob abruptly as he finished his coffee. 'Seems the little whore got her gag off somehow in the night.'

'It was in, I told you,' growled Eleanor. 'But not fastened properly.'

'So, it's okay then?' Shannon felt gripped by fear of discovery but tried to be casual about it.

'Okay?' The girl's mother nearly exploded. 'That's a top of the range sleep ball gag with lip cover. It isn't meant to come out, off or anything!'

'But... she was still chained right. I mean, she hasn't escaped.'

'No, of course she hasn't. Her chains were all okay,' said the man. 'But your mom's right. Gags don't come out on their own.'

Shannon tried hard to keep a level voice. 'Perhaps it wasn't in properly after her meal.'

'I checked,' said Bob, looking flustered. Clearly he had already been blamed and resented it.

'But she didn't get free, that's the main thing,' said Shannon, trying to defuse the situation. She could feel her mom looking at her hard. 'So, she's still in the basement, right?'

'No. I put her in solitary.' The woman stood up from the table and shot a look at her husband. 'She won't get out of there, except for her whipping.'

Shannon nodded, coloring slightly. It was her fault, leaving the Russian without gagging her and now the slave was in the small brick structure in the backyard, cramped and no doubt chained to the walls.

But it was also Svetlana's fault: the Russian teenager shouldn't have kissed like that. Girls don't go kissing other girls. Shannon felt strangely hot. Shannon's mother looked as if she'd noticed but didn't say anything.

Shannon was relieved when her mom turned and left the room. She got on with her breakfast, thinking about the girl in solitary. Shannon had peeked inside the solitary cell when it was built, before they collected Svetlana. The famous Home Slave Services mark three single use container - the Hermit, as it was called. But everyone knew it was the solitary punishment cell people had built for troublesome slaves - a cold, dark and cruel little box that the slave would spend a day in.

'A whole day, huh?' said Shannon suddenly, thinking of the rules.

'Three days,' said Bob, getting up himself. 'Your mom decided she should be there three days.'

'Three? But that's not wh-' began Shannon.

'It's what I want,' said the woman tersely, coming back into the room. 'What the little slut deserves.'

---

The small brick building had a solid metal door and two large padlocks on it. There was no window, no way out other than getting the keys.

And even that would be useless without more keys: the slave would be neck clamped in there, short chains at her wrists and ankles attached to rings in the wall. That was why the confinement cell was so popular: slaves didn't escape, ever. The makers even said it would stand through a tornado or earthquake.

'Svetlana,' said Shannon in a voice barely above a whisper. She pressed her face to the cold metal door. 'Can you hear me? I'm sorry. It was my fault, I didn't mean to do this to you.'

She didn't know if the slave could hear her. Svetlana wouldn't be able to answer as the unit had a built in gag and hood arrangement. But she might feel vibrations, so Shannon banged on the metal door with her fist, gently at first and then a little harder.

'What are you doing?' Eleanor was standing with hands on hips right behind Shannon, making the girl jump.

'Mom...Hi! I just thought... I' d come and taunt the slave. You know, tell her what a slut she is.' Shannon banged the door loudly as if to demonstrate.

'She won't hear you. I plugged her ears.' The woman's voice was without emotion, and that chilled Shannon.

'Great,' said the girl, trying to put as much enthusiasm into her voice as she said it. 'I hope you whipped her sorry ass before she went in.'

'Sure,' responded Eleanor, but she didn't look as if she quite believed her daughter. 'Now I think you should leave her alone.'

Shannon nodded and scooted away.

---

For the next three days Shannon could hardly sleep and concentrating on her school lessons was impossible. Even her mother noticed her listlessness, between her grumbling she had to do all the house work while the 'useless' slave was locked in her solitary confinement.

There was an unpleasant atmosphere between the man and wife over the gag incident and while Shannon tried to keep a low profile, she found she was getting in trouble over next to nothing. Worse, she suspected her mother knew why the gag wasn't in properly.

At school, Shannon's friend Sondra was puzzled why the girl looked so anxious.

'It's my mom and dad - arguing about the slave,' Shannon confided on the third day of Svetlana's solitary.

'Oh, that!' laughed Sondra before dropping her voice to a whisper. 'My folks argue over Mishka all the time. Mom says Dad's been fucking her.'The girl snickered. 'But she's fat and Dad wouldn't do that.'

'It isn't sex, or anything like that' Shannon tried not to color up. 'It's just that she did something bad.'

Sondra grinned. 'Like burning a hole in your mom's favorite bra? Mishka did that the other day and boy, did she get a whipping!'

'No.' Shannon shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 'She nearly got her night gag out.'

'Wow, serious stuff,' gawped Sondra. 'I hope the check up people don't find out. I heard they don't like ungagged new slaves unless you got a license.' She paused. 'So what's happening with her?'

Shannon shrugged. 'Guess she'll get a whipping when she gets out of solitary. Mom's mad at Svetlana - and she's mad at dad as she thinks it was his fault.'

'Was it?' Sondra looked curiously at her friend.

'I don't know!' Shannon realized she had been a little too quick, a tad too sharp. Her friend knew it too.

'So... Was it you?'

'No!'

'Liar!'

Shannon colored up. 'I'm not!'

'Tell me,' smirked Sondra. 'Or I'll tell Nicole and her fat friend Laing that you like girls more'n boys.'

'Do not!' Shannon blushed furiously at the threat of the class bullies being told such a thing. 'I just said that once, I thought girls look better than boys.'

'So, did you use the keys?'

Shannon took a deep breath. 'Um... Well, okay, yes it was me,' admitted Shannon. 'I took her gag out. But don't tell anyone, please! Not my parents! I'll be grounded for a year.'

'At least,' laughed her friend. 'So what are you going to do about it?'

'Nothing. What can I do?'

'So why did you take her gag out? You want sex with her?'

Shannon tried to stop her face reddening more, to no avail. 'Of course I don't. I'm no dyke.'

'Didn't say you were,' said Sondra. 'Lots of girls of our age get the hots for a naked chained slave, especially if she's good looking. I read it in a magazine.'

'I don't have the hots for Svetlana,' protested Shannon. 'She's okay... I wanted to talk to her, that's all. I thought she spoke English.'

Sondra laughed. 'Sure. Some of them do. I read that about it: some have learnt it anyway but some get taught how to speak our language, but the crazy thing is they are gagged so much while they are here. My mom says it's because the government are scared people will feel sorry for them if we hear their side of the story.'

'What story?'

'You know, how they get brought here, how they were treated in their own country. How they want to go home. Stuff like that.' She paused. 'They also say these Russkis prefer it here - because they like Western girls a lot. You know?'

Shannon tried to dismiss the thought.

Sondra leaned closer. 'You heard of the phrase: Devochka moya?

'No.' Shannon lied.

'Means 'I really want you.' It's what Russian lesbians say to attractive girls.'

Shannon was itching to correct her friend, but that would reveal too much. 'Well, I wouldn't let any slave say that to me.'

'So, what did she say, when the gag came out?' Sondra was way too curious for Shannon's liking.

'Dunno. Her English was real bad.'

'So she could have said devochka moya.'

'She didn't,' insisted Shannon with as much authority as she could muster. To her relief Sondra seemed to let it go at that.

---

Shannon's mother was in a bad mood at having to do so much housework and she roped in her husband and Shannon to help out. 'You can do the dusting in the living room,' said Shannon's mom, thrusting the duster into her daughter's hands. 'And do it properly,' she snapped.

Shannon knew there was no point in objecting so she took herself off and began dusting round. From the kitchen she could hear her mother shouting at her father to get the back porch tidied up. Shannon sighed. Her mother was never the happiest person around but she had changed for the worse since Svetlana arrived. The only time she seemed happy was when the slave was in trouble and she positively glowed when she could whip the girl.

Now there was no slave to whip and the housework to be done, Eleanor was in a bad mood all the time. At least, Shannon thought as she got down on her knees in front of the TV to dust the shelves of DVDs, I'm out of the way here.

One of the boxes was turned the wrong way and Shannon pulled it out to turn it round. For a moment it didn't register what the title was but her mouth dropped open when she saw it: 'Real Punished Slaves.' The picture on the box was a naked, heavily chained girl writhing under an assault from three women whipping her. One of the women was standing legs apart and holding her skirt up with clearly no pants on - the way the slave was facing, the position of her head, made it look as if the chained girl was being encouraged to move her head in and use her tongue. One of the other women had her hand up her skirt as if she was playing with herself as she delivered the whip and while it was hard to see what the one nearest the camera was doing she was grinning like the other two. The slave's back was criss-crossed with bright red weals and her face contorted in agony.

The line under the heading read: 'Twenty five real life tortures for unwilling slaves. Watch them suffer and weep in two hours of uncensored actual punishments.'

Astonished at what she had found, Shannon stared at it and then flipped the box over. On the back were several small still shots from the DVD, all of them with naked slaves either tied or chained, some gagged, some not, some in pain and some being whipped. A strange feeling of shock and arousal went through the girl. At the bottom of the box was a web address and a glowing tribute from a magazine called 'Punished for Pleasure,' claiming this one was 'Five stars for hot, hot whippings.'

Another quote said: 'What's Russian for No More Pain, Please? You'll soon find out with this great compilation from the people who brought you Russians Run Red!'

Shannon turned it over in her hand, wondering why it was there. Then she understood. It was her mother and father's and they got off on seeing movies like this.

There was a door slam and Shannon jumped, swiftly wedging the box back among the others and leaping up from the shelves. But she needn't have worried: it was her mom and dad going out. From the window Shannon could see her mother and father arguing as they got into the car and the vehicle back down the drive. She was alone and could check out this DVD.

Not knowing how long she'd have, the teenager slipped the disk into the player and sat back on her haunches to watch, her heart pounding. The screen was filled with a menu and you could select which slave you wanted to see punished. At random, Shannon chose 'Tanya.'

The scene opened in a garage, much like any garage. A naked slave was being brought in, already weeping. The girl looked about fourteen - the youngest age for a slave supposedly (though Shannon had heard of twelve year olds being brought over to work) and her short, blonde hair reminded Shannon of Svetlana.

The girl on the TV - Tanya, if the title was to be believed - wasn't gagged and her chains at her wrists and ankles were lightweight. They were soon removed by a man and a woman, both quite young. Then this girl, Tanya presumably, was made to stand on a stool and her up-stretched arms fastened with more chains to a beam by her wrists. The stool was removed and as the struggling girl dangled from the beam, her legs kicking weakly, the man and the woman proceeded to lash the helpless female mercilessly. They only stopped when the screaming girl seemed to have lapsed into unconsciousness. A close-up of her back and ass revealed dozens of bright red, sometimes bleeding, cuts. Water was thrown over the female to wake her up (and wash any blood off her) and then the hanging slave's legs were bound together before her thighs and calfs were beaten with a thin rod by a young girl, aged no more than seven.

Tanya was struggling feebly against this assault and her hoarse screams were now whimpers. A gag was introduced into her mouth and clips with wires attached to her nipples - these were linked to a box plugged in to the wall and the older female turned a dial, which must have sent some electrical shock thorough the slave as she jerked and twitched at each turn of the dial.

Shannon felt sick but equally understood that under her disgust was a distinct tremble of excitement. She checked the drive, saw no car, and flicked to another scene. This time a well-gagged female (she looked 18 and surprisingly latin) by the name of Raisa was being tightly bound to a chair. A large number of clothespins were liberally applied to her body and ripped off to make her twist and pull against her ropes in pain, alligator clips put on her nipples and heavy weights attached. Her gag (the biggest jaw distending gag Shannon had ever seen) was pulled from her mouth and her tongue eased out. An alligator clip with a weight attached was added to Raisa's tongue, making it hang out. Then a wire fork on a length of cord was put in the unhappy girl's nostrils and pulled back up over her head so she had a pig-like look. Finally, the clips on the girl's nipples were attached to wire and the wire fastened to her pierced ears - so short that her already dragged down tits were p ulled up towards her head.

To Shannon's horror (and shame at the buzz in her cunt, making her want to finger her own clit as she watched) a man's thick, erect cock appeared in the shot and he began to masturbate, ready to shoot his sticky load at Raisa's grotesque face. To Shannon's astonishment the Russian girl turned her head towards the cock as if she wanted the full force of it on her face, lifting her head so her stretched out tongue was in line with the purple head. In a few moments the pulsing cock squirted its hot white jism onto Raisa's helpless pig-like nose, into her gaping nostrils and on to her pink, wet tongue.

The sound of the car on the drive brought Shannon back to the hear and now. With a jolt she realized she had moved her hand between her legs as she had watched the punishment of Raisa and she hastily leapt to her feet. The DVD went back in the box and on the shelf in a moment. Shannon hurried to the bookshelf, busily dusting that as her mother came in.

'Taking your time,' the woman said icily.

'Lot of books,' said Shannon over her shoulder. To her dismay she saw Eleanor move to the TV and put her hand on it.

'Set's warm,' said the woman, suspiciously.

'I put it on to entertain me while I was working,' said Shannon, airily. 'Music station, but didn't like what they were playing.'

'Hmm,' was all Eleanor replied.

---

Shannon was eager to see more of the DVD again but when she checked a couple of hours later, it had gone. She wondered how many more DVDs like that her parents had hidden away - and whether her mother had suspected her daughter of watching it.

Later, in the back of Good Slave Owner Shannon saw there were plenty of small ads for DVDs and magazines on the theme of punishing slaves, some masquerading as 'officially approved' guides or produced by so-called government research labs. Some hinted at darker material and she saw the web address of the people who produced the DVD she had watched.

Clearly, she could see, there was a big market for this material.

Shannon called her friend Sondra to ask her.

'Your parents ever watch any, um, DVDs about punishing slaves?'

Sondra snickered on the other end of the phone. 'Dad does. Mom doesn't know. He's got about five at least. I saw one once, all about slaves being whipped and stuff.'

'Stuff?'

'You know, torture and tying up. Happens all the time in them.'

'But why? We've got the slaves. They get whipped.'

'Sure,' said Sondra. 'But not hard! And people want to do more. I heard old Mr and Mrs Smithings got into trouble because they used a brand on their slave. One of the cops who arrested them told them they should have just watched it in a movie.'

'So what happened to them?'

'Oh, nothing much. They won't go to court, my dad says. Probably can't keep a slave for a year. Not officially, anyway.'

'I don't get it,' said Shannon. 'What's official?'

'Licenses, dummy,' laughed her friend. 'Don't you know anything? You and us and most everyone else has official slaves. In theory. Mom says there are lots of people with just slaves.' She paused. 'We pay our taxes, we have government approved slaves. Some people don't pay taxes and lots of people have slaves no one hears about. That's what my dad says. Women from asia, Philippines. Even Cuba.'

'Cuba's nowhere near Asia.'

'I know. It's just they come from all over. Everyone knows. I bet the females in my dad's torture movies aren't all Russian and if you see a slave at the Mall she may not be official. That's why real speech stopping gags are so popular, I guess.'

Shannon thought of how latin-looking that Raisa had been in the DVD. Screams, she knew, sound the same in any language.

'You seen any of these things?' asked Shannon.

'Course I have,' laughed Sondra. 'When I get the chance.'

I know what you mean, though Shannon, idly reaching between her own legs at the thought of seeing more of these movies.

---

Shannon was desperate to see Svetlana when she was brought out of solitary but she feigned disinterest when her mother said she would bring the girl back into the house. 'Three days up already. She'll just be getting used to it,' said the girl airily as if she didn't care.

'That's what I thought,' said Eleanor. 'Maybe we should keep her in there another day.'

'Oh, what... S-sure. I mean, good idea mom.' Shannon knew she'd sounded hesitant so she added quickly: 'But better we get her working and have her whipped.'

'Indeed. I have, by the way,' said the mother as if she hadn't noticed her daughter's verbal acrobatics, 'bought a better locking gag. It's adjustable so we can really hurt her mouth.'

'Good,' said Bob from his chair. 'Then I won't get blamed.'

'Good,' echoed Shannon, a sinking feeling in her belly. If it was one of those new Sklaven gags from Germany she'd seen advertised on TV, then Svetlana would really suffer. An expandable gag with a pluggable hole in the center so a pipe or tube could be screwed in place. How much water can your slave's belly take? the ad had asked, and answered itself by showing a young girl standing by a sink, water dribbling from the tube where it went into her gag and the slim girl's belly dsitended with the amount of liquid forced down her. The bulge made the girl in the ad look pregnant.

'Feeding time's easier now,' the voice in the ad had said, showing a slave tied to a chair and being fed some sloppy food down the tube. 'A slave just can't say no,' enthused the ad.

Approved in state prisons all over Russia,' continued the ad. Give them what they know and fear most, it added.

Shannon's mom, maybe deliberately, held the gag up for her daughter to see. It was indeed a Sklaven gag, the plug hole open and the seal dangling on a short chain. The ball gag section was a long, thin shape that would reach into the slave's throat, with hard rubber points that looked as if they would dig into the wearer's mouth.

Bravely, Shannon nodded as if she approved.

---

For a couple of days after the release, Shannon didn't go near Svetlana. She was scared of what she'd see after several days locked in the cell and worse, didn't want to have to punish the girl. Shannon was sure her mom would insist she had to whip the slave hard.

It was almost as if her mother wanted the child to admit she had helped the slave, that she had feelings for the Russian. The best thing to do was simply to stay clear. She also feared, maybe irrationally, that Svetlana would blame Shannon for what had happened.

As it turned out, the American girl needn't have worried. When she did find herself confronted by the Russian girl, Svetlana winked at her little friend. Shannon also thought she could detect a smile but that was hard to tell: the new gag looked horrendous - while it didn't have that ridiculous engraved message on the lip cover (it didn't have one as the plug could be removed and the ownership information was on a dog tag padlocked on a chain round the Russian's neck) the plug looked huge and uncomfortable. It wasn't the gag of course, but it sealed the opening for the tube device and suggested the rubber insert in Svetlana's mouth was jaw-achingly huge.

Shannon also found out that her mother had softened towards her suddenly. The frowns were gone, and the girl put it down to the fact that since the solitary confinement and the Sklaven gag had been introduced, her mother had suddenly seemed far more relaxed about her daughter and the slave.

The key to the gag though wasn't with the others. Eleanor had taken the precaution of telling no one, not even her husband, where it was. It broke all rules of slave ownership, but it eased the atmosphere in the house. Particularly, as her friend Sondra was to point out, the Sklaven gag tube was smaller than most men's dicks so there'd be no sucking off, as she called it.

Shannon had laughed, masking the feeling that she felt hopelessly denied she couldn't converse with the family slave.

But contact needn't just be with words, though for a reason she couldn't pin down Shannon longed to hear the slave say: 'Milaya moya' Or even, if there was no gag: 'devochka moya.' The truth of non-verbal contact came when Shannon found herself alone with the slave.

With her father out, Shannon was surprised one day that Eleanor wanted to go to the Mall with her friend Phyllis. Even more bizarre, Phyllis had brought her slave Tanya along and left Shannon in charge of both slaves. It was probably illegal and certainly, in the James household, unprecedented.

'We'll be out all afternoon,' said Eleanor briskly as she pulled on the white gloves she always wore when she went shopping. 'You can be in charge of both slaves,' she added. 'Just keep them working.'

Shannon nodded, amazed that it was all so casual. She waved her mom and Phyllis off and went back to see the two slaves. Tanya, she was happy to see, wasn't like the Tanya in the DVD she'd seen: this one was dark haired and with a long, slightly curved nose. Not unattractive, but not as good looking as Svetlana was.

Tanya's owner had left her slave's gag key with Shannon, and she decided she would see if this one spoke English. She did, though less fluently than Svetlana. As Shannon hadn't been able to locate the hiding place of Svetlana's gag key she got the idea Tanya might help.

It didn't take long to work out a way of communicating: Svetlana may have had better spoken English but she couldn't write it. Tanya however could obviously read Cyrillic script and interpret it. Thus began one of the strangest 'conversations' the American teenager ever had.

'She say,' began Tanya, translating a note that Svetlana had scribbled in Russian. 'She understand you feel sad. But not worry. Um, she say she like you. Not good... it say...' Tanya searched for the word. 'Love, that good. Svetlana love you.'

Shannon felt a wave of shock that made her want to sit down. She did, and stared at Svetlana. Inside, Shannon felt the surge of something she'd never known before.

'Tell her...' Shannon began and stopped herself. She could tell Svetlana herself: the girl might not be able to answer but her ears were still good. 'Svetlana, milaya moya,' the girl began. 'I have this... sort of feeling for you. But not, um, love. We mustn't love. It's wrong...' Shannon halted herself, staring into the soft, appealing eyes of the blonde slave.

For a minute Shannon struggled for words that would encapsulate all she felt. 'I mean,' she resumed, 'it's forbidden. I'm American and, uh, free and you're Russian and...' The girl gestured at the chains on both girls, but especially on Svetlana. 'You're slaves. You have to be, um, made to work and punished.' The girl stopped herself with a small gasp: she was sounding like her mother.

Taking a deep breath, Shannon continued: 'No, you have to go home one day. Both of you. Your families are waiting.'

Svetlana suddenly began writing something urgently. Tanya read it out haltingly as the girl scribbled, her chains rattling with the urgency: 'You wrong... have no family. Sell me to... America. I not know where family is... I belong you... love you. Little, um, sister... girl.'

If Shannon hadn't been sitting down she would have fainted with the shock. She had imagined Svetlana would go home one day, wiser perhaps but glad to be back with her family. She would go home to Russia and soon forget the thirteen year old girl in the States. Shannon found her voice, weak though it was: 'Svetlana, you can't.'

The Russian girl in the Sklaven gag was writing furiously again. 'The silencer... mouth ties... gag... untie - no - unfasten...' Tanya was struggling to translate. She asked something in Russian to Svetlana, who shook her head. Another question from Tanya and a nod this time. 'The unlock metal...' A pause while the words came to Tanya. 'The key... it is in...' Another, longer pause as the ungagged Russian struggled to interpret. Again she asked a question in her language, and got a shrug in response. Svetlana scribbled something else.

Shannon realized she was sitting on the edge of her seat, anxiously waiting.

'You must walk...' said Tanya, reading the paper. 'To upstairs... I show.'

Shannon leaned forward more. 'The key, where is it?'

Tanya gestured towards the hallway and the stairs. 'She show you... I not know the words.'

Svetlana was walking as quickly as her chains would allow, towards the stairs. Shannon scampered after her and caught her arm, half turning the girl towards her. 'You're going to show me where the key is, where you can't reach it, right?'

The Russian grinned behind her gag and nodded.

The key for the Sklaven gag was in the last place Shannon would ever have looked. It wasn't in her mom and dad's room, or hidden in the bathroom or any of the places Shannon had tried. The mother (for Shannon guessed she was the one who had hidden it) had put it on a small hook high up inside the frame of the closet in Shannon's own room.

Too high for the family slave to reach it but very much in the one place Shannon wouldn't think of looking.

Shannon brought the key out, feeling for the first time there was a definite war between her and her parents - or especially between her and her mother. There was no trust: the woman clearly suspected her daughter was infatuated with Svetlana.

'I'm going to unlock your gag, milaya moya,' said Shannon tenderly. Outwardly she tried to stay calm, but inside her heart was pounding. 'Then I am going to kiss you because I love you.'

The lock clicked open, the gag slid out. The two teenage girls looked at each for a split-second and then their lips met. A tenderness dissolving into raw passion.

Within a second their mouths were open, tongues pushing and probing, Svetlana's hands straining against her chains to reach Shannon's small breasts as the American girl's hands clutched the Russian closer to her. She was holding the Russian girl tightly, feeling the slave's chains through her own clothes, wishing they were against her naked body.

They broke, drool between their lips. 'I love you,' said Shannon, gazing into the slave's eyes.

'I love you, milaya moya,' smiled Svetlana. 'From when I first saw you. Now we will make love as women.'

A flicker of confusion across Shannon's eyes made Svetlana laugh. 'We will make love only as women can,' she continued. 'We will place our fingers in each other's sex.'

'Fingering,' said Shannon with a small blush. 'I don't know how to.'

'Then I show you,' breathed the slave. 'Your skirt, lift it please and push down your panties.'

Shannon blushed at doing such a gesture, revealing herself like this. But she did it, skirt up over her waist and pants down to her knees.

The two females clutched again and kissed passionately. Shannon felt the slave's hands slide across her naked belly to her crotch, to her small, hairless vagina, chains cold on her flesh. The Russian's surprisingly long fingers ran lightly over the lips of Shannon's labia and effortlessly worked deep into the thirteen year old.

Shannon gasped with astonishment and delight, feeling a thrill explode in her. Her own hand, she realized, had slid round and down to between Svetlana's legs. She eased her finger into the Russian's receptive, hot pussy. More, she could feel the slave's silver ring, in one of her labia lips. She wanted to play with it, tease it. But later, perhaps.

'Deeper,' sighed Svetlana with a happy sigh, breaking the kiss for a moment. 'Finger me deeper, little one.'

Shannon did as she was told, delighting in the wetness, the smoothness, feeling Svetlana in her. The same.

The two teenagers kissed deeply again, fingers stretching and probing and caressing and stroking. Shannon could feel moisture running down her hands, felt her own wetness trickle down the inside of her legs. She had dreamed of this, fingering herself lying awake at night, but never imagined it would be this good.

'I love you, Svetlana,' whispered Shannon as her free hand came round to the slave's chest, seeking the girl's hard nipples and small bust.

'Then you can join her,' said Shannon's mother's cold voice, behind them.

---

As traps go, it was good. Shannon conceded that.

Her mother's Mall trip was just a trick to get Shannon and Svetlana into a compromising position - and as the thirteen year old girl accepted, caught with your skirt up, pants round ankles, kissing and fingering an ungagged slave was about as compromising as it got.

Now Shannon stood next to the regagged Russian, wondering what her mother intended to do with her - though the fact she was naked and wearing chains just like the slave gave some hint that things weren't going to be quite the same again.

'Mom, you must understand,' said Shannon, her face still tinged red from being told to undress and stand still while her own mother put the spare set of slave chains on her. 'Svetlana and I love each-'

'Love?' Eleanor James rounded on her daughter, face purple with rage. 'You think it's right for two girls to love? It's perverted for two normal females, but a child and a slave is worse... it's... it's sick!'

Phyllis, watching over Eleanor's shoulder with her own slave safely re-gagged and on the leash she held, smirked. 'I told you these things happen, Eleanor. Like Martina La Guiz and that slave they had. Dirty little whore got what she deserved.'

Shannon gave a start. Martina La Guiz was a girl in her grade, back in the fall. One day she wasn't at school, simple as that. 'Gone away,' was all she'd heard. Gone away like this? A panic welled up in the teenager.

'Mom, please listen!' The girl lifted her cuffed and chained hands towards her mother. The short chain to her padlocked waist belt snapped taut, preventing her from raising her hands more than a few inches above her waist. 'Please... Me and Svetlana, we didn't mean any harm. Svetlana wants to be a good slave and I don't want to -'

Again, Shannon was cut off by a snarl from her angry mother. 'But you did do harm, you stupid child. You gave the slave ideas, made her think of you and her in some sort of bizarre freedom.' The woman was shouting, angrier than Shannon had ever seen before. 'She's here to work, to serve me!'

Shannon stared at her mother. The question, 'To serve you?' formed on her lips but she didn't say it. She didn't need to - it all fell into place and Shannon's jaw dropped. It was the woman who had wanted and organized a slave, not for the home but for her. The DVD that Shannon had found wasn't her father's, as she thought. It was her mother who'd bought it, watched it. The Sklaven gag was mom's idea, too - particularly as she, not her husband, had been the angriest over the loose sleep gag.

Shannon shot a glance at Svetlana, standing with head bowed next to her, then back to her mother. 'Don't hurt her. Blame me,' said the girl, feeling tears in her eyes.

Eleanor James regarded her daughter coldly. 'You want her to like you, so you can be like her. Exactly like she is!' The woman, hands on hips, nodded at the slave, all signs of anger suddenly gone. 'You and she will both take the blame. And as for hurt, you are going to find out what hurt is.'

Shannon felt a chill sweep through her: there was something more frightening about her mother like this.

'I suspected you and she were going to do something like this, especially as I knew she spoke English. Fortunately, Phyllis and I were able to work out a plan to catch you being stupid. And guess what, we -'

'What about dad,' interrupted Shannon, face flushed. 'What's he going to say?'

'What I want him to say, as he always does.' A smile was at Eleanor's lips, a thin humorless smile. 'Phyllis, I think we've heard enough of this.' The mother held her hand out and her friend placed a simple ball gag into it. 'Recognize this, Shannon? It is dear, sweet Svetlana's first ball gag. Not as good as the Sklaven model she wears so well, but good enough.' The woman let the ball gag swing by its strap, like a pendulum. 'Even better when you can keep the key hidden away.'

Shannon gulped: the gag's red ball looked bigger than she remembered it. 'How did you know I'd loosened Svetlana's gag?' she asked.

'Simple. Your father didn't know I'd hung it on the hook by her cell. Anyway, he's too scared to do anything stupid like trying to remove a gag without my permission.' Eleanor grinned, full of humor now. She beckoned her daughter towards her.

Shannon stood her ground. This was ridiculous: a mother couldn't gag her own child. But there again, a mother couldn't chain up her own daughter but she'd done it. Made the child naked, too. Like a mere slave.

Sweat broke out on the child's brow, rears in her eyes, despair in her whole being.

'Don't make me come to you,' said Shannon's mother in the coldest, flattest voice the child had ever heard. 'Or it will be worse for your sweetheart.'

Reluctantly, the teenager stepped forward. Four short, chain restricted steps - four steps in which Shannon realized how hard it was for Svetlana and slaves like her to walk and move.

'Open wide, honey,' said the woman holding the gag up. 'Take your medicine like a big girl.' A snigger broke Eleanor's rigid face a she used the phrase she always did when Shannon was a small girl. Shannon, tears coursing down her cheeks, opened her mouth. The rubber ball slid between the teenager's teeth. Suddenly the woman pulled the gag out. 'Oh, how bad of me. You haven't said goodbye to your slave friend, have you?'

Shannon stared at her mother. What did she mean, goodbye? 'Mom, I can't -' she began but a glare from the woman holding the gag close to the girl's mouth stopped her.

'Tell. Her. Goodbye.' Eleanor punched the words out.

'Mom,' appealed Shannon weakly. But it was no use arguing, and the girl knew it. Tearfully, she turned to the slave standing a couple of feet behind her. 'Svetlana...' The Russian looked up, tears in her eyes too, looking at her friend. 'I'm sorry, milaya moya... Goodbye.'

The gag went in. Hard, before the girl could say anything more. The padlock snapped shut behind Shannon's head and Eleanor and Phyllis laughed.

---

There was a screech of tires as the plane landed. Through the window, Shannon could see no town, no houses. Only a flat landscape under a drab gray sky and semi-derelict buildings of what looked as if it had once been a military airfield. Once, when the cold war meant they were needed.

She glanced at the girl next to her who - she was thankful - had finally stopped sobbing into her gag. Across the aisle, another naked girl - a black girl with surprisingly large breasts - had also long since stopped trying to fight the straps that pinned her to her seat. Someone else though elsewhere in the plane was clearly trying to get loose, as if landing after such a long, uncomfortable flight was the signal for another futile attempt to get free.

Shannon grunted into her gag and gave her wrist and ankle straps a little tug, just in case by some miracle they had come free. The thick leather straps were - as they had been throughout the twelve hour flight - just as unyielding. Anyway, if they did come loose, where would she go? Who had the key to her gag lock.

A thickset middle-aged woman in a cheap, plain navy blue uniform passed down the aisle, glancing at the rows of naked teenage girls secured in their seats. The woman paused by the black girl and stared at the child's large tits before she reached down and cradled one of the firm orbs. The uniformed woman said something to the girl, who probably didn't understand. Another woman, in a similar uniform, stopped in the aisle by her colleague and laughed, joining in the fondling.

The plane taxied to a halt and up ahead, the door was opened. Cold, fresh air rushed into the cabin. Air cold enough to make Shannon shiver and harden the nipples on her small but distinct bust. The sobbing girl next to Shannon began sobbing again, louder.

Shannon could see men and women in navy blue busying themselves with the naked girls, undoing straps, clicking chains at wrists and ankles, orders issued though what they meant was beyond her. At least, for the time being. The girl had no doubt she would learn Russian in time.

----

The processing was quicker than back home, Shannon thought as she was led to the family who would own her. A fat man, a fatter wife, two children - a teenage girl of her age and a boy, aged maybe nine. She was glad: he wouldn't be horny for a while yet.

The man looked pleased, his wife doubtful, the boy disinterested apart from a sly glance at Shannon's slit with its thin hair covering. The man was staring at her small breasts and said something to his wife, his fat hands indicating weight. A joke she didn't share.

But it was the girl who seemed most interested. Her round face beamed as she looked Shannon up and down. She said something excitedly to her mother, who shrugged. Then to her father, who nodded. The girl jumped up from the bench they were sat on and seized Shannon's leash chain, tugging it and almost unbalancing the naked American slave.

'American,' she gurgled, reaching out and seizing one of Shannon's small breasts. 'American chains. Good gag, nyet?' She squeezed Shannon's tit but the girl didn't step back. Slaves don't, she had been told. She wished her nipples hadn't hardened at the assault, but the way the girl was amused at this reaction meant it would no doubt be investigated time and again. The girl let go and made a gesture at Shannon's limbs. 'Russian chains heavy. You wear them much, yes?'

Shannon stared at the girl and at her family, trying not to cry. Two years with them, serving them? Then what? No promises, the officials said, when her parents took her to the Outward Slave Facility. Could come back, might not. Shannon's mom had said: 'Good.' Her father looked cowed and stayed silent. Svetlana, heavily chained and Sklaven gagged, had been close to tears as Shannon had been taken away to the Russian plane waiting to fly back.

Like they said, you don't make money bringing slaves one way. You don't fly back with an empty plane and restraint straps on seats unused.

'Illishkov,' the fat man said as he stood, indicating his family. That was when Shannon noticed he was carrying a whip at his waist, and she gulped as much as the gag allowed.

'Mishka,' giggled the girl holding Shannon's chain, yanking it and causing the helpless American to make a choking noise. She tapped her finger on her own chest and said, 'Mishka' again. Then she prodded the family slave hard, making the naked teenager gasp. 'You Svetlana, now,' The Russian teenager snickered. 'Milaya moya, Svetlana.'

Then Mishka leaned closer, so no one could overhear. 'Devochka moya, Svetlana,' she smiled.